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captainswanmoviemarathon · 3 years ago

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Is everyone else loving this story as much as I am?

A Date for the Holidays (and everyday too would be nice)

Summary: Tired of the constant backlash from her family about being single, Emma finds herself striking an arrangement with a roguishly handsome stranger at the mall the day after Christmas. Now she won't have to be alone for the holidays. Emma and Killian agree to be each other's dates, no strings attached, no commitment, no pressure. Just two friends getting together to appease her annoying family and get his brother off his back. It's the perfect setup really...until sticking to the holidays isn't enough. What happens when they both want more?

Holidate AU

A/N: Thank you for all of your feedback from the first chapter 🥰

I don't know how many of you have watched the movie, but I have to say, besides the sexy accent, I wasn't super impressed with Jackson, and I tried to make Killian as Killian as possible in this fic. So there will be much more pining than there was in the movie.

Thank you to the lovely @veryverynotgood for beta reading!

Catch up: Ch 1 //

Also available on: AO3 // FF.N

Chapter 2

New Year's Eve

Killian doesn’t think he could get any more nervous than he already is...until the Uber pulls up in front of the house Emma gave him the address to. And he thinks the anxiety he feels might have to do with how decked out the house is, with the Christmas lights and tall candy canes in the front yard strung together around the Santa and reindeer and the large blow-up snowmen and gingerbread people, or the fact that seeing her parents’ house just made this all too real.

Either way, his stomach is coiled in knots as he makes his way up the walkway. Emma doesn’t live with her parents, but when she told them she had a date for New Year’s Eve, they were insistent upon meeting him. He’s fine with that—he truly is—but he hopes her parents will like him.

He had sort of downplayed how attracted to her he was at the mall. He couldn’t exactly say, hey, I ran into you because your incredible beauty distracted me. He was on his way to the vitamin store when he spotted this beautiful stranger with her long golden curls, pouty red lips that were begging to be kissed and those sparkling pools of emerald beneath long, dark lashes...he doesn’t even know how to describe her eyes exactly, all he knows is they momentarily made him forget his own name. And when she mentioned the holidate idea, he had hoped she’d offer to be his date, because he was too afraid to ask her himself. He, Killian Jones, was too afraid to ask a woman on a date.

He normally has no problem asking out women he’s interested in—there haven’t been a lot—but ever since Milah broke his heart, he’s been trying to protect himself. And he didn’t exactly tell Emma the truth about his brother. The reason he works on the holidays isn’t that Liam makes him work; it’s because Killian would rather work than face another holiday alone. He knows he shouldn't have lied, but he didn’t want Emma to think he was just desperate to find a date for the holidays. He didn’t want to bring his baggage into the equation.

Killian chuckles when he reads the welcome mat in front of the door.

If there’s no answer, we’re either under a sleeping curse or making tacos.

His nerves ease a bit, but the way Emma described her family, they seemed more intense than the welcome mat suggests.

Killian takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly and heavily before he rings the doorbell. He’s looking down at his feet, reminding himself to relax and trying to convince himself everything will be fine.

The bells hanging from the top of the Christmas wreath chime when the door opens.

The first things he sees when he lifts his gaze are the black fuck-me heels on her feet—bloody hell, even her toes are sexy—and he moves his eyes up her body to take in the entire package.

Long legs that are tan and toned and go on for days, a black dress that hugs all her luscious curves. And then there’s the sweetheart neckline with a deep v-cut which showcases the most fantastic breasts he’s ever laid eyes on. She is so goddamn sexy, and he’s hard as a rock just imagining how good she'd look out of that dress. Which is not a visual he should be having when he’s about to meet her family.

“Wow…you look,” he breathes, barely able to lift his jaw off the ground long enough to get the words out, “stunning.”

When he lifts his eyes, her cheeks are painted a beautiful shade of pink as she flashes a pearly white smile. His face heats as she seems to be appreciating the view in front of her. “Thank you. You don’t look so bad yourself.” She lets him inside and grabs her clutch purse and red jacket from the closet.

Once she returns, his eyes are again spanning up and down her form, but they keep gravitating toward her gorgeous breasts, and he keeps remembering what she looked like covered in his green juice. Her breasts looked fantastic even then, but it doesn’t compare to the way they look in her dress.

“Killian?”

The sound of his name pulls his attention from Emma and toward the man coming up behind her. Who, oddly enough, Killian recognizes. His stomach drops when he sees David standing there in the foyer to meet him. “Mr. Nolan?”

“What are you doing here?” David’s eyes flick to Emma as he puts the pieces together. “Wait, you’re my daughter’s date?”

Daughter?

Killian blinks in disbelief as he glances between Emma and David. The brother she had mentioned was Leo, the one who got engaged on Christmas? And David is her father? “Wait, you’re um…” He swallows hard, still trying to process this. “You’re Emma’s father?” There is a keen resemblance between the two, and he’s not sure why he didn’t notice before when he met Emma at the mall. He knew there was something familiar about her, but he couldn’t put his finger on why at the time.

“Yes, I am,” David answers curtly, crossing his arms as he gives Killian a hard stare. “And you’re the guy Emma met at the mall who’s taking her on a date?”

“Aye.” He nods and shifts his gaze to Emma, who seems to be just as baffled as he is. “I had no idea she was your daughter.”

“Hey Killian, what’s up?” Leo comes up to him, giving him a high five, and a young woman who looks to be about the same age is next to him, her arm wrapped around his back.

“Hi, lad. How are you?”

“I’m great! I finally proposed to my girlfriend,” he says excitedly. And Killian knows Emma’s cringing since Leo says finally, as though he’s been seeing Audrey for years, when in reality, he and Audrey have only been together for five months. “This is my fiancé, Audrey.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Audrey,” Killian says, shaking her hand. “Congratulations on the engagement.”

“Thank you,” they both say, exchanging blushing smiles.

“So, you’re taking my big sis out?”

Emma rolls her eyes at the title. “It’s older sis.”

Killian refrains from laughing, because her correction reminds him of Liam calling him little brother, no matter how many times Killian corrects him.

“Aye, I hope that’s okay with you.” Killian scratches behind his ear, hoping Leo doesn’t get all protective on him.

“No, not at all. That’s awesome.” He looks at Emma and grins. “He’s a great guy. I don’t know why I didn’t think to set you two up before.”

Emma rolls her eyes again.

Killian’s relieved Leo’s not opposed to the idea of him taking his sister out.

David, however, doesn’t appear to feel the same way.

Emma’s brows knit together as she looks between her dad and brother. “Wait, how do you guys know Killian?”

“He and his brother own the tackle and bait shop, where Leo and I get our fishing supplies.”

Audrey furrows her brows at Leo. “Wait, you fish?”

“Yeah, Dad and I go all the time.”

Killian scratches behind his ear, his cheeks heated. “Well, this is awkward.”

“Who’s at the door?” A woman with a pixie haircut enters the foyer. Her eyes widen when she sees Killian, a big smile overtaking her face. “Oh, you must be Killian!” she squeals.

He forces a polite smile. “And you must be Mrs. Nolan?”

“Oh, there’s no need to be so formal. Please call me Mary Margaret!”

Killian extends his hand, but instead of shaking it, she throws her arms around him. He doesn’t want to come off as rude, so he hugs her in return as he glances at Emma, who looks like she just wants to leave. “Now, you take care of my daughter, you hear me?” she says as they break the hug.

“No worries, your daughter couldn’t be in better hands,” he says with a smirk, trying to ignore the nerves in his stomach and how awkward this situation is.

“That’s exactly what worries me.” David’s still glaring at him, and this is a side Killian’s never seen of him before. Usually when he comes into the shop, he’s friendly and always wants to shoot the breeze. But that was before he knew Killian was going on a date with his daughter.

“Ohhh-kkkay, I think it’s time to go,” Emma says, grabbing Killian’s hand. His heart flutters in his chest, his skin tingling when he feels Emma’s warm palm against his.

“Well, you two have fun,” Mary Margaret calls after them as they head out the door.

“But not too much fun,” David adds sternly.

He can feel Emma wince as they run out the door and down the porch steps.

“Well, those were my parents,” Emma says with a sigh once they’re both in the backseat of the Uber, buckling their seat belts.

“I can’t believe I know your father and brother. When you described your family, I hadn’t pictured David and Leo.”

“Yeah, well, my dad treats me like I’m a porcelain doll or something, but he’s your typical prince charming to everyone else,” she says bitterly.

“Unless you’re dating his daughter,” Killian chuckles.

She shoots him a venomous glare, and he shudders, but he doesn’t hate it. Not at all.

~🥂~

The club is packed and loud as Emma and Killian stand at the second-floor railing of the club, looking out over the raving crowd screaming and hollering below.

“White satin ruffles...tuxedo, just drenched in sweat.” He nods toward the couple in question. “That bloke’s definitely proposing at midnight.”

Emma hums in agreement, turning to look at Killian. “You’re good.”

“It’s a gift,” Killian boasts with a proud grin and looks over at her, unable to help the way his eyes land on her breasts. He leans into Emma’s space to say something in her ear. “I think you should know, your tits look exceptional in that dress, love. Even better than they do in a white t-shirt and green juice.” As soon as the words come out of his mouth, Killian’s expecting her to slap him across the face. During the Uber ride here, they agreed to be open and honest with each other because one downfall of relationships is all the dishonesty. And the whole point of holidating is to avoid all the typical relationship stuff.

He’s relieved when Emma smiles and blushes, glancing down at herself before returning her eyes to his. “Thanks, that’s why I bought it.” She does a slow spin to give him the full effect.

“Mmm, I love the way it hugs your ass.”

When Emma’s facing him again, she tilts her head and seems to melt at his compliment as she places her hand on his shoulder, her cheeks pink. “Thank you.”

“Of course, love.” Killian chuckles. “This is brilliant. I can say whatever I want and not have to worry about you breaking up with me for not being cordial since this isn’t meant to be an actual date.” He’s inwardly grimacing though, because he wishes he did have to worry about being cordial and appropriate around her. He wishes this were an actual date. But it’s not. And he keeps having to remind himself of that.

“Exactly! And I can dress like a slut without worrying about being slut-shamed,” Emma states, seemingly relieved by this.

“What a holidate bonus!” Killian high fives her, and his skin once again tingles at her touch.

Emma’s eyes widen as she looks over his shoulder. “Aunt Ruby?!”

Killian turns around to see a tall brunette in a dress that matches the color of her crimson lips and the streaks in her hair.

“Emma?” She drags her date over, who looks much younger than her, and pulls Emma into a hug. “Hey, baby!” As they pull apart, a big grin crawls over her lips as she gives Emma a once over. “Your tits look great in that dress!”

Emma laughs a bit as Killian grins and nods in agreement. “That’s what I said.”

Ruby gestures to her date. “This is Peter.”

“Pete,” he corrects, giving Killian and Emma a small wave.

“We met at the Art Institute.” She hugs her date’s arm. “I was a nude model for his figure sculpting class. He made me the most perfect clay clitoris…” she stares off dreamily into space with a blushing smile on her lips, “...like a butterfly taking flight.”

Killian looks over at Emma to see the disgusted expression on her face while he simply raises an eyebrow.

Ruby flashes him a sultry smirk. “So, who’s this?” she asks her niece.

Killian can’t believe Ruby’s her aunt. She looks too young. But he’s guessing she’s Mary Margaret’s younger sister. He does remember David mentioning he had a sister and brother, though, but he said the three were triplets, and Ruby looks younger than David.

Emma wraps her arm around his back and grins happily, so Killian does the same, winding his arm around her. “Aunt Rubes, this is my date, Killian.”

Ruby’s eyes light up. “Your mom said you were bringing a date. I just thought she was hoping to set you up with someone.”

“Nope. Snatched this one up all on my own,” she giggles, looking up at Killian.

He flashes a grin at Ruby. “That’s right. Apparently she’s a sucker for blokes who spill their green juice down her shirt.”

Emma nods and teases playfully as she wraps her other arm around his front, making his stomach do somersaults. “Yep, you know me. I swoon over guys who can’t watch where they’re going.”

“I couldn’t help it, love. This blonde beauty who was charging toward the customer service desk with her lumberjack pants distracted me.”

Killian grunts when he feels Emma’s elbow jabbing at his side.

Ruby narrows her eyes suspiciously at Emma. “You returned the pants your mom got you for Christmas, didn’t you?”

Emma sighs. “I tried, but someone messed them up. And they're too big for me to fit into.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell her,” Ruby assures with a wink.

“Thank you,” Emma says appreciatively.

“Well, it was nice meeting you, Killian.”

“You, too.”

“Happy New Year, kids. Have fun!” She blows Emma a kiss and pulls her date away.

“Your aunt seems nice. Is she the one who got her cookie licked on Christmas?”

Emma groans, obviously revolted by the memory. “Yeah, but Peter wasn’t the cookie licker. She has a different date for every holiday.”

For some reason, Killian’s heart drops as he wonders if Emma will do the same. He wonders if this date is only a one-time thing. “So, first it’s the cookie licker, then the cookie...molder?” He chuckles. “Is she your dad’s sister, or your mother’s?”

“Neither. At least not biologically. She’s my mom’s best friend.”

“Ah, I see.” Killian turns toward her. “Would you like a drink, love?”

She nods. “Please.”

When they reach the bar, Killian orders a glass of champagne for Emma and a glass of rum for himself. They find a cozy sofa to sit on and chat and drink, just enjoying the night.

“There’s no way in hell her character would ever do that!” Emma exclaims, taking a sip of her champagne.

“Who cares? It was funny.”

“Uh-uh.” She lowers her glass. “It was cockamamie.”

Killian chuckles. “No one uses that word anymore.”

Emma scoffs. “Well, it’s the only word I know that accurately describes every romantic comedy in history.” She rolls her eyes. “There’s always some fake reason the stars can’t be together when you already know they’re gonna be together from the movie poster.”

Killian nods in agreement and chuckles, bringing the tumbler to his lips.

She balls her hand into a fist and brings it to her eye to imitate someone who’s crying. “It’s like ‘boo-hoo, I’m so heartbroken. Even though you’re perfect for me, I’m taking a break from dating.’”

Killian snorts out another laugh.

“No one is ever…” she sips her champagne again, lowering her glass before continuing, “taking a break from dating. Let me tell you, if Ryan Gosling waltzed in here, picked me up and floated me around to the theme of Dirty Dancing , I’m not gonna be like ‘oh, hey, Ryan, buddy, bad timing. I’m taking a break from dating.’ I am jumping on that train. The Ryan Gosling train.”

“I'd jump on the Ryan Gosling train,” Killian agrees, clinking his glass against Emma’s, and they drink to that. “So, who was this dickhead who ruined romantic comedies for you.”

Emma shakes her head, her face souring at the topic. “I’d rather not go there.”

Killian tilts his head at her. “Oh, come on, we’re already here.”

She rolls her eyes and laughs as Killian leans forward.

“What was his name? Bill? Fred? Carlos? Bob? Tim? Come on, who was it?” he asks again after she still doesn’t answer.

Emma gives in with a sigh. “His name was Neal.”

“Neal?” Killian groans. “Ugh, sounds like a wanker.”

“He wasn’t at first.” A look of nostalgia crosses her face. “He was sweet and nice and taught me how to unlock doors with tumblers. And I liked how his eyes crinkled when he laughed.”

“What happened?” Killian immediately regrets asking her more about the bloke. He’s not feeling one bit of jealousy in his stomach. Definitely not.

“We wanted different things. I wanted someone to take home for the holidays...he wanted to text photos of his tiny dick to the girl who made his double macchiatos.” She forces out a laugh.

Killian’s face sours, and the jealousy he felt a second ago morphs into anger. He doesn’t understand why anyone would cheat on a bombshell like Emma. Or anyone, for that matter. “That’s rough, love.”

“It was my own fault for listening to my cousin, Anna. She said to always date down so I didn’t get my heart broken by someone who’s too hot to be trusted. I should’ve known better.” She sighs. “I have to pee.”

Killian watches her walk away as he downs his rum, thinking the advice her cousin gave her was terrible, but on the other hand, if Emma tried to date someone above her, she’d die alone, because he doesn’t think there’s any guy too good for her.

They spend the next few hours drinking, dancing, hijacking giant bubble wands, playing with sparklers, and definitely not setting a table on fire and having to put it out with a glass of water. As midnight approaches, they return to the railing on the second floor, both of them a bit tipsy from all the alcohol they imbibed.

It’s not long before the DJ makes the announcement over the speakers. “Are y’all ready for a new year, Storybrooke?!” The crowd cheers. “Grab your sweethearts and let’s do this thing!”

The countdown begins as the numbers are displayed on the giant screen at the front of the club.

“Ten...nine...eight…”

Killian’s heart thunders in his chest as he looks at Emma, not sure if she wants him to kiss her or not, but the way she’s biting her bottom lip as she eyes his lips tells him she does. So he turns toward her, relieved when she follows suit.

“Three...two...one! Happy New Year!”

The crowd roars as Frank Sinatra pours from the speakers and horns and party poppers go off in all directions.

Killian frames her face in his hands, crushing his lips with hers. He sighs in relief when she wraps her arms around the back of his neck, pulling him close. Everything around them—all the noises and cheering and music—fades into the background, and it’s just him and Emma kissing like their life depends on it. But she’s a bloody good kisser, and he doesn’t know if he’ll ever get this chance again, so he soaks in every fucking second of it, sweeping his tongue along the seam of her lips. When she parts her mouth invitingly, he immediately swipes his tongue against hers, tasting the champagne in her sweet mouth. Her smell, her taste, the way her skin feels under his palms are so intoxicating. He angles his head to deepen the kiss, breathe her in and let himself get lost in her mouth for however small amount of time he has with her.

The kiss is over far too soon for his liking, and they both stand there, catching their breaths, foreheads pressed together, holding on to each other for dear life.

He pushes the butterflies in his stomach down, reminding himself this isn’t real. But if it’s not, then why can’t he get the fucking kiss they shared out of his head and why is his heart still beating when they both climb inside the Uber?

They sit quietly in the back of the car, sharing awkward glances now that their so-called date is coming to an end and they had shared an explosive kiss that still has him trying to recover. “Tonight was....” Killian finally breaks the silence, his voice still completely wrecked from that kiss. And maybe his heart, too.

“A one-time thing.” She doesn’t even look at him when she says it.

His heart sinks into his stomach. “But what about Valentine’s Day? That’s the worst holiday to be alone on.”

“But it’s over a month away. A lot could happen before then. And if not, I have a standing date at a candy store, so I’m good.”

“Alright.” Killian offers a frail smile as the car comes to a stop in front of Emma’s place. He’s disappointed this was their first and only date, but then he remembers she still has his flannel shirt, and he’s filled with hope, knowing she’ll have an excuse to see him again.

“Let me get your shirt. Be right back.”

Well, fuck.

“You don’t have to worry about that right now, love,” he insists.

“No, it’s fine. It will just take a second.” Emma flees from the Uber before he can argue with her any further. He drops his head against the back of the seat and sighs. Tonight was the most fun he’s had in a long time, and he’s sad it has to come to an end.

Emma returns two minutes later and opens the door, handing him his shirt. “Thanks for letting me borrow it.”

“Of course, love.”

She bends down into the car and plants her lips on his cheek. “I had fun.”

“Me, too. Goodnight!” He calls out. “Happy New Year!”

“Happy New Year.”

When Emma shuts the door, the car pulls away, and Killian shifts around in his seat and sees her standing outside, watching the Uber drive off. Killian's heart sinks as the distance between them widens, but he doesn’t know why. Tonight was meant to be a one date only situation. Just one night of relaxing and having fun. One night of spending time with someone without all the romantic stuff getting in the way.

If only he could get her scent out of his nostrils or remove the taste and feel of her lips from his. If only he could stop replaying that kiss in his head.

If only he didn’t already have feelings for her.

Facing forward again, he brings the shirt to his nose and breathes in slowly, taking in her cinnamon, citrus and floral scent that still lingers in the fabric. The same fabric that touched her soft, creamy skin. Her perfect breasts.

That thought will haunt him everytime he sees it or puts it on.

Fuck.

He's never washing this shirt again.

#Captain Swan #cs ff #CSMM #CSMM20 #Captain Swan Movie Marathon

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teamhook · 3 years ago

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Ser-en-dip-i-ty :: Serendipity Movie CS AU

Hello!! The struggle is real but I made a deal with @hookedonapirate. She knows what I’m talking about.

I want to thank my lovely beta @ultraluckycatnd and my lovely enabler dream team @karlyfr13s @veryverynotgood @apiratewhopines @hookedonapirate @batana54 and all the lovely ladies on the CSMM Discord for their support.

//AO3//://FFN//

A/N: Ser·en·dip·i·ty

The occurrence and development of events by chance in a happy or beneficial way.

A chance meeting thousands of days ago led to a magical night between two strangers the universe insisted on bringing together. Could fate finally reunite them?

Five days before Christmas...

New York...

Bloomingdales...

Cashmere gloves are hanging from a hook. White, red, beige, and just appended by the sales clerk, one single pair of black gloves are added to the display.

Two different hands grab a glove each and pull. They find the other glove is attached to someone else.

The man asked, "I'm sorry lass, did you want these?"

The woman sighed. "Damn, it's the last pair."

The sales clerk walked by and they gained her attention to ask if they had more of the black gloves on display. The salesperson confirmed that they didn't have any more in the back.

They put the gloves back while they decided what to do.

A grumpy man grabbed them and the woman stopped him.

"Sir, we were discussing those!" The woman said.

"You two can discuss them all you want, but I will be the one paying for them."

"Sir, with all due respect. The lass and I were discussing what a perfect gift those gloves would be for -my girlfriend."

"-my boyfriend." The woman said at the same time as her partner in crime.

The old grumpy man stared at them with a scowl. "Are you saying that these gloves are for both your boyfriend and his girlfriend?"

The woman smiled sweetly. "Yes, right now he is my boyfriend but after the surgery..."

The younger man scratched behind his ear. "Aye, after the surgery she will be my girlfriend."

The grouchy man didn't believe them for a second and muttered that he had no time to argue and bid them Merry Christmas before moving on.

The pair laughed as the man left.

"Lass, you were bloody amazing!" he said in awe.

"Come on, you were right there with me. Let's just call it a team effort," she said with a smile.

"I don't mean to upset you, but I think we make quite the team."

She snorted.

He paid for the gloves and handed them to her.

"Well, I think it's only fair if I buy you a drink then," she said.

They ended up at Serendipity. The chocolate there was to die for and it was her favorite place.

"Tell me lass, how did you find this place?" he asked while drinking a blended coffee.

She moaned as she took a sip of her hot chocolate. "My mom. She loves this place."

"Oh, serendipity is one of my favorite words," he said smiling.

"Why is that?" the woman asked curiously.

"It's such a lovely word for what it means. A fortunate accident," he clarified.

"Oh, it does have a nice ring to it," she said.

"Except I don't believe in accidents. I think fate is behind everything," he replied.

"Wait, so if fate is behind everything, that would include the one pair of gloves?" she asked.

"That is my belief."

She shook her head. "Everything Is predestined and we don't have any choice? I don't know how I feel about not having control of my destiny," she said.

"Not exactly. I think we make our own decisions. I just believe fate sends us signs and it's how we read them that decides if we are happy or not."

"Little signals," she said hesitantly.

"Aye, fortunate accidents," he stated.

"Perhaps I should get going. Now I have to go find something

for my girlfriend," he said hesitantly.

She grimaced. "Oh, they were for your girlfriend. I'm sorry, are you sure you don't want them?"

"No, it's alright. I will find something. I do confess I have no regrets. Those gloves were lucky. I got to enjoy your company," he said with a smile.

"Thank you, good company is hard to find these days. I guess it's time to go," she replied.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to keep you from meeting your boyfriend," he said.

"Oh no. I'm sure he is out doing the same thing you are," she said.

"Ohh, is he becoming smitten with someone else's lady love?"

he said with a raised eyebrow.

"No, he is buying a Christmas gift," she said with a light blush on her cheeks. "So what do you want for Christmas?" she asked to shift attention to him.

"I would love some golf clubs. I really enjoy the game," he said with a dreamy smile.

She paid the bill and they walked out of Serendipity. They both wanted to continue their night together, but it was obvious the timing was wrong since they both had somebody.

The woman smiled shyly at him and his hand went to scratch just behind his ear.

"Do you think exchanging names makes us horrible people?" she asked.

"I don't know," he said thoughtfully.

"Well, my name is Emma. Does that make you want to tell me something?" Emma said smiling.

"Merry Christmas, Emma," he said smiling. "It was a pleasure meeting you today, but it's not our time. It would be bad form to ignore the signs," he said as he signaled a cab.

Emma stared as he got inside the cab and disappeared.

Emma was disappointed, but she did have a boyfriend and what was she thinking? She had been so lost in the magic of the meeting. She couldn't shake the feeling that he was special. She was riding the train to go home and then noticed she didn't have the Bloomingdale's bag. She must have left it at Serendipity. She groaned and made her way back.

She asked the host if it was turned in and he said no, but that she could go check the table.

She arrived at the table and she was lucky to find the store bag underneath the table.

She sighed in relief.

Someone cleared their throat.

She looked up to find dazzling blue eyes. The same ones she had been staring at for hours.

"Hey, what are you doing here?" she asked while picking up a black pashmina.

"I forgot my scarf," he said, pointing at her hands.

"Oh!" Emma said as she walked towards him and wrapped it around his neck.

His breath hitched at her proximity.

"We keep meeting," Emma said with a smile.

"Aye, it appears we do."

"Maybe we should do something?"

"Alright, what do you want to do?" he asked.

They end up ice skating.

Emma gracefully skated around him, giggling at his hesitant movements.

"So I need to know, are you here to marry someone for a green card?"

He laughed loudly. "No, lass. Did the accent give me away as a foreigner?"

"Okay, what do you miss the most about home?" she asked.

"That is easy, my brother."

"I'm sure he misses you, too. I would miss you," she said, smiling when she noticed the tip of his ears reddening.

"It's my turn to ask a question. What is your favorite movie?" he asked, shaking off the moment.

Emma stopped for a second. "That is an easy one. The Princess Bride." She shrugged. "What about you?"

"The Pirates of Penzance. It appears we have the love of pirates in common," he said.

"Yes, it does. Okay my turn, favorite New York moment?" Emma asked.

He pondered his answer for a minute. "This one is sailing to the number one spot."

She grinned and then she bit her bottom lip. "What is your favorite sex position?" she asked while raising her eyebrows.

He growled at her. "You are being very cheeky, lass."

She laughed, lost her balance, and promptly fell down.

"Lass, are you alright?" he asked as he helped her to her feet. He inspected her for any damage.

"I'm okay," she grumbled.

He gently grabbed her hand and noticed a deep slash.

"Oww!" she winced.

"Let's look at this." He guided her to the bench and sat down. He inspected the cut carefully. He reached into his coat pocket and took out a flask.

"What the hell is that?" Emma asked as he poured it on her injured hand.

"Rum," he said as he took his scarf and wrapped it around her hand slowly while staring deeply into her eyes.

Emma sighed.

He grinned and with difficulty turned his eyes away to inspect his handy work. He traced some freckles on her arm.

"What is it?" she asked.

"It's just that your freckles resemble the constellation Cygnus. Did you know Cygnus is associated with the myth of Zeus and Leda in Greek mythology? Its neighboring constellations are Draco and Pegasus, among others. Sorry, lass, I fail to recall all of them at the moment."

Emma was distracted by his soothing voice and how warm his fingers felt on her arm while he traced the freckles.

He cleared his throat. "Lass, perhaps exchanging contact information would be acceptable?" he asked, hoping she would agree.

She wasn't the type of girl to give a guy her information while dating another, but there was nothing wrong with making a new friend.

"Okay, can I borrow your phone?" she asked.

He patted his pockets and shook his head. "I must have left mine at home charging. I'm sorry, but I can enter my details in yours."

She smiled and searched for it in her bag but came up empty. "Damn it. I don't have my phone either. I hope you don't mind if we exchange information old school." She wrote down her name and phone number on a piece of paper and a gust of wind blew it away.

He huffed his disappointment and said, "Perhaps it was fate telling us to back off."

"I don't believe in fate. I can write it on something else," she said when she noticed his face.

He smiled. "I have an idea." He took out a five-dollar bill. "Write down your name and phone number."

She did as he told her and once she was finished, she handed the five dollar bill to him.

"Thank you, my lady," he said and walked across the street to a vendor's cart.

She eyed him curiously. He was so oddly refreshing.

He purchased some gum with the money and turned to wink at her as he walked away.

She jumped into action and walked after him. "Hey! What was that? I thought we were exchanging information."

"Lass, the signs point out it's not the right time, but when it is, you will hear my voice and then you will believe in fate."

She rolled her eyes. "You don't have an incredible night with a perfect stranger and leave it to chance? But what about me? Shouldn't I get the same opportunity to find something with your details? It would be the fair thing."

"You are right," he said as he found a table filled with books for sale. His eyes brightened when he found the perfect one and picked it up. "See this copy of JM Barrie's Peter Pan? I will write down my name and phone number and sell it to a used book store tomorrow. You will have to go in the stores and check to see if it's there."

The truth was that he wanted to ignore the signs. He smiled at Emma and pulled her inside the hotel they were in front of. "Lass, don't worry. I'm always a gentleman." He guides her to stand in front of the elevator, and he goes to the opposite side. "When the door opens you walk inside, and once the elevator door closes you need to press a floor number. Just don't think about it. Trust your instinct. If we pick the same floor, that means this is our time. If not, I will do as we planned with the book." Just as he finished his instructions, the elevator door started to close. "My name is Killian. Have a little faith in destiny."

Without thinking, Emma threw one of her gloves at him. The elevator closed, and Emma stared at the buttons. She took a breath and pushed the number 24 button while holding the bag close to her heart.

Killian pushed floor number 24 with a hopeful smile.

Emma rolled her eyes at the man's antics. No his name is Killian. Her elevator door opened and a man and small child entered. Her heart dropped as she saw the little kid press a lot of buttons at the same time. She still had hope that he would still be there, but once she makes it to the floor, Killian is nowhere in sight.

Killian had waited longer than he expected, but Emma never arrived. So he would wait to find her.

@allons-y-to-hogwarts-713 @andiirivera @anothersworld @apiratewhopines @artistic-writer @batana54 @beckettj @bethacaciakay @bixisarusher @branlovestowrite @brooke-to-broch @captainodonoghue @carpedzem @chasedancer17 @cocohook38 @courtorderedcake @darkcolinodonorgasm @deckerstarblanche @demisexualemmaswan @djlbg @donteattheappleshook @dovelyheart @elizabeethan @gingerchangeling @gingerpolyglot @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 @queen-serena88 @resident-of-storybrooke @revanmeetra87 @rumdrum91 @sailtoafarawayland @sals86 @scientificapricot @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 @winterbythesea @xarandomdreamx @xemmaloveskillianx @xsajx @zaharadessert @myfearless-love @cosette141

#Captain Swan #CSMM #cs ff #CSMM20 #Captain Swan Movie Marathon

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captainswanmoviemarathon · 4 years ago

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Hello all! I know we still have fics updating and other events. I was wondering if anyone would want to participate on a new wave of CSMM or just do the event all year?

I mean if you write a fic based/inspired by a movie you tag us and we reblog or like we did last year?

I know last year was a horrible year and it affected our real life’s so much.

We had writers unable to submit their fics due to that issue.

Let me know what you guys think...

#Captain Swan #Captain Swan Movie Marathon #CSMM #CS Crew #cs mafia #CSMM20

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captainswanmoviemarathon · 3 years ago

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Great chapter!!!

Thanks to @teamhook for the updated artwork. She’s the only person I know who will provide a gift for her own gift 💝

Thanks to @motherkatereloyshipper for helping me pick Killian’s hometown in this story and for being an all around lovely person

Midnight

Chapter 2 — The Stroke

Summary: In which our heroine does what she does best

Chapter 2 of 7 on AO3

“And my imagination will feed my hungry heart,

Leave me one thing before we part”

-A Kiss to Build a Dream On, Louis Armstrong

The spot he was referring to was an out-of-the-way pub serving the greasiest onion rings in existence and a lively clientele that didn’t notice it was one o’clock in the morning and all decent people were in bed. After days of getting by on breakfast bars and the memory of what a full meal tasted like, Emma thought she had died and gone to heaven.

Melancholy tunes droned softly in the background as she demolished enough food to feed an army. The pretty waitress earned her respect when the woman didn’t even blink at her handsome companion, and she liked to think she earned it back when she ordered three of their daily specials without a trace of shame.

Ignoring the way Killian watched with an expression close to awe as she stuffed her face, she happily gulped down a cup of coffee and observed, “Nice place. Come here often?”

“Not as much as I used to,” he murmured, taking a sip of his drink. “Tell me about this man you’re hunting. Is it personal?”

“Please, don’t make me lose my appetite. Surely we can come up with something else to talk about,” she groaned around a mouthful of beef and melted cheese. He had removed his leather jacket when they entered the pub, and his black short sleeve t-shirt stretched across his biceps in a manner entirely too distracting for comfort. Their high-backed booth made it feel as though they were on an island all by themselves, the dark wood and Tiffany lamps creating a cozy cocoon while still allowing a view of the nearly deserted dance floor.

“Ah, definitely personal then. Did he insult your honor? Break your heart? Have you ever even been in love?”

It stung how quickly he was able to see through her. Did she wear her heartache like a stamp on her forehead announcing to everyone she was an idiot? Ignoring the last question, she replied, “He hurt the only person who ever cared about me out of petty revenge. Neal Cassidy broke me. Now I’m going to return the favor.”

“Chills, darling.” His tone was teasing, but she thought she saw him shudder at her words. “I guess you don’t abide the notion of turning the other cheek.”

“Not when the first hit cost me my home, my possessions, and my peace of mind.”

“So he’s the reason you haven’t eaten in days and don’t have any luggage? Sounds like a lovely chap.”

“I don’t need your commentary or your sympathy, Captain. While I appreciate your help tonight, and I definitely owe you one for the meal, I think my past is closed for further discussion. Let’s talk about you instead. What’s your story?”

“I don’t have one, love. What you see is what you get.”

“What I see is someone dodging my question. Guess I’ll have to fill in the details myself then. Let’s see…thirty-something-year-old man who lives a life of boredom and pines for more while feeling stuck in his white picket fence world. You have a decent career in a field that pays well but decided to start a side hustle to meet new people and have something to do after eight in the evening.” Gesturing with her chin toward his forearm, she continued, “Currently nursing his own broken heart over the woman who loved and left him. The only thing I can’t figure out is what part of England you’re from.”

“Well, aren’t you the perceptive one,” he answered with a self-deprecating chuckle. “Although, I would argue it’s cheating since I have my emotional baggage inked on my skin for everyone to see while you carry yours around like an invisible tumor on your soul. As far as where I’m from, a man likes to maintain a little mystery.”

“Come on! You really aren’t going to tell me anything about yourself? After I guessed all that about you?”

With an unfathomable look, he smiled softly and said, “Fine, I’m from Cambridge. Now you know all my secrets. And allow me to call your attention to how well my devious plan worked. My first evening with my side hustle, as you call it, and I’m already having a late night rendezvous with a beautiful woman. One full of food and dancing.”

“There will be no dancing, Captain. But I wouldn’t be opposed to more food.”

“Not sure where you’ll put it, love, there’s no more room on the table. But I’m game if you are. Come on, one dance, and I’ll buy you a whole pie.”

She wanted pie but not as much as she wanted to feel his arms around her. She wanted it so badly her mind raced with images of skin on skin and restless hands exploring. Then her stomach twisted at the knowledge they would say goodbye soon. They probably should have already said it, truth be told. As she debated what harm could come from giving in just this once, he extended his hand and pulled her gently from the seat. Slowly, she felt a small section of her walls crumble and gave him a reluctant smile. “One dance.”

The soft music wasn’t loud enough to allow for an appropriate selection of dance style, but she didn’t mind when he gathered her close and swayed gently in time with his soft humming. She felt his breath stir the hair around her face and realized this was a mistake. Now that she knew how it felt, it would be harder to deny herself an encore. Especially knowing tonight was a one-time thing.

“Tell me something, Swan. Do you believe in love at first sight?”

“No, I don’t believe in love at all,” she answered. Her words conveyed her deeply held conviction that poets and Hollywood movie producers invented love to make people so miserable with the lack of it, they had to seek out fictionalized versions to find some measure of happiness. Her tone, however, sounded as though she was open to being convinced otherwise.

“That’s a shame. I think you’ll miss out on a lot of what life has to offer by being so close-minded and scared.”

“If I were scared, which I’m not, I have every reason to be. One of my foster moms told me a long time ago that love wouldn’t buy me a diamond ring, and it was as easy to be in a relationship with a rich man as a poor one. Easier really. I used to think she was a witch, but now I think she had a point.”

“Bloody hell, what exactly did that man do to you?”

She felt his direct gaze like a physical thing caressing her even as his eyes flickered with disappointment. “I told you. He broke me. And my bank account.”

“Money isn’t everything, love.”

“Excuse me if I ignore advice telling me to count my non-monetary blessings from the man who picked me up in his Beamer. It may not be everything but not having it leaves you with nothing.”

“A person who needs forty dollars a day and makes forty is richer than someone who has everything and needs more.”

“Now you’re just being silly,” she said as she slipped from his arms. “And when a rainy day comes? What then?”

“I recently took up being an Uber driver in my spare time, love. I imagine I’ll make more on rainy days.”

Laughing as she looked at his endearing face under the dim light, she shook her head. “About my pie…”

—

She knew what she was doing. She lingered over the large platter containing a sampling of every type of pie the surprisingly eclectic menu had to offer. She watched him with affection as he critiqued each in turn, always saving the bites with whipped cream for her. The best parts, in other words.

She was stalling.

The night hadn’t turned out as she expected. While her main goal was unfulfilled, she couldn’t make herself think of it as a loss when her sides hurt from laughing, and her troubled heart felt at peace. It was a pity it had to end. And not because she had nowhere to go, although that was certainly the case.

Slowly they made their way back to his car, neither one speaking as the noises of the summer night buzzed in the background. She’d said a lot of goodbyes in her lifetime, eagerly in most cases, but was strangely reluctant to add this one to the list. “Well, Captain, it’s been an expensive night for you. I think you better drop me off at the nearest bus station before I cost you any more.”

“You’re always trying to bring the conversation back around to money. Get in,” he ordered as he handed her into the car.

The air in the cabin of his luxury sedan felt heavy with expectation. Neither of them spoke nor hardly moved a muscle. She considered asking him to turn on the radio but didn’t want to miss out on the last few moments of hearing his even breathing next to her. Minutes passed, and it took her a while to notice they had left Storybrooke and were heading back toward Misthaven. “How much further to the bus station?”

“We passed it several miles back. You’re going to stay at my place.”

Under normal circumstances, this would be where she prepared to kick someone’s ass, but she knew deep down, as surprising as his announcement was, she had nothing to fear from him. Well, nothing except a repeat of the broken heart fiasco that was getting harder to remember with every second spent in his company. “Oh no, I’m not. What happened to no strings and no funny business?”

“Calm down, Swan. Our deal stands. I’m working the rest of the night so you’ll have the place to yourself. Trust me, the bed in my guest room is much more comfortable than a seat at the bus station.” Without taking his eyes off the road, he reached into one of the compartments in the console and pulled out a key. “There are some shirts in the dryer if you need something to wear. Help yourself to whatever you want. If you hang around until nine, I’ll even make breakfast. If you don’t, leave the key under the Welcome mat.”

“I think you better keep your key, Captain. There are two ways this could end, and neither one is pretty.” She gave him a sidelong glance and was mildly irked to see him grinning at her.

“Only two? Please enlighten me with your power of premonition.”

Heaving a sigh of frustration, she wished he would be logical about this whole thing. Sure they had attraction in spades; the very air around them seemed to crackle with electricity whenever their eyes met. But she knew it would fade, and the only thing left then would be goodbye. Better to skip the messy part and go straight to the end. “The first is I stay and have breakfast, and it turns into the day and then another night….”

“That doesn’t sound so bad, love. And the second?”

“I leave the key under the mat, and we never see each other again.”

“Hmm, option two is decidedly less appealing. I’ll take what’s behind Door Number One, please,” he joked.

“You think so until reality sets in and you realize you’ve taken in a stray with a score to settle and not a cent to her name. It won’t be long before the sight of me in your shirts makes you cringe, and you resent having to share the couch with a woman who has nothing to give.” She would know having been in a relationship with a person who was only capable of taking, and she vowed never to do that to someone else.

“I have half a mind to hunt down this Cassidy fellow myself after seeing the hit job he did on you. Listen, Swan, the key has no strings. Breakfast is just food. Whatever happens, happens. But if you think I’m going to drop you off at a deserted bus station with only the clothes on your back, fetching as they are, you’ve got the wrong idea about me in more ways than one.”

“I’m not yours to rescue, Captain.”

“You could be,” he whispered in a voice that made her skin tingle. He tossed her a half-hearted smile, eyes stormy with the knowledge she was going to turn him down. Again.

“The fact we both want me to be is warning enough it’s a bad idea. Come on, Killian, let’s call it a night now so we can remember it fondly in the years to come.”

His jaw clenched, and she was worried he was going to fight with her sensible argument. People didn’t meet people in the middle of the road and form attachments in one night. This wasn’t a fairy tale, and she was as far from a princess as a person could get.

Although she had to admit he made a rather fine prince.

Pulling off into a nearby gas station, he turned to her and said almost threateningly, “We’re not through discussing this.”

Then he stepped out and slammed the door as the sky opened up.

—

It was a dirty trick. She knew even as she did it, but it was for his own good. For whatever reason, he felt like he needed to protect her, and she needed to save him from himself. So she waited until he walked into the convenience store and made a run for it.

That’s not to say she didn’t have a brief moment of whimsy. She couldn’t stop herself from placing a kiss on the key he had casually tossed to her as if inviting her into his home and his life wasn’t a big deal. Then she carefully placed it on the dash, grabbing the newspaper from his backseat as an afterthought, and scurried away before she was caught.

Like a rat.

Maybe Neal was exactly the kind of man she deserved.

The rain beat down in a punishing way, her makeshift umbrella getting soggy and soft under the onslaught. She was so busy looking over her shoulder, convinced he was going to search for her and half hoping he was successful, that the sudden absence of the storm took her by surprise.

“Here, miss, it’s raining cats and dogs tonight,” the sturdy doorman of the fancy establishment she was passing said as he reached out to place his umbrella over her. The burgundy awning extended to cover most of the sidewalk and, despite the late hour, classical music was drifting from the open door. Limousines lined the street, spilling well-dressed patrons as they approached the swanky club.

Before she could maneuver out of the way, she was swept into a tide of rich fish, all glammed out and ready for the party to start or continue as the case may be. She overheard one woman, whose hat was so large she had to tilt her head to make it through the door, complain, “Regina’s parties are always so dull even nature weeps.”

Deciding a boring party indoors was better than a lonely night in the rain, Emma changed her stance and walked over the threshold with her head held high like she belonged there. She noticed the plaque on the wall as she entered read The Rabbit Hole and couldn’t help but think it was aptly named. With its marble floors and curving staircase, it was no wonder this wasn’t one of the stops on the Captain’s tour of town. This place was as high-end as they came.

There was a man collecting tickets at a small side table and, with only a minute to improvise, she was glad to see the stubs were roughly the size of the photo she was toting around, one of the few remaining possessions to her name. Without a moment of regret, she turned the photo face down, relieved the love note Neal had written on the back was faded and worn, so only his faint signature was legible. Luckily, the sheer volume of people entering the place meant the employee merely took it from her without looking to confirm it was what it appeared to be.

Following the crowd into a large ballroom off to the side, she saw a black grand piano played with a precise kind of violence by a wild-haired man in a tuxedo. The room was packed to the gills, the group she straggled in with taking the last seats on the far side of the room. The audience was appreciative but far from silent, conversations carrying on as if private concerts of this caliber were a normal everyday occurrence for them. Every time Emma thought she found a place to rest her sore feet and sorer heart, someone took it before she could get there and, in one near miss, she almost flattened a lap dog that warranted his own seat for the show.

Finally, after pushing her way through a narrow row, she found a place and asked the man in the next chair with a hint of desperation, “Is this seat taken?”

Shrugging a silent negative with brooding eyes that lit up when she neared, she tried to ignore the searching glance he gave her as she dropped into the chair and surreptitiously removed her shoes. She could tell by the hint of a smirk he noticed the movement, but at least he had the good grace not to comment on it.

He was handsome in a careworn kind of way. His tousled dark hair and thick stubble were eerily similar to the Captain’s look, and it made her shuffle in her seat with guilt. The man kept staring, his light-colored eyes settling somewhere between gray and green, keenly taking in her appearance and finding it amusing if the continued presence of his smirk was any indication.

As the final notes of the concerto echoed through the room, a burst of applause started. Now that she was fed and able to sit for a few moments, Emma realized she was exhausted. It was a bone-deep weariness far beyond fatigue, and she was fairly confident it could be traced back to a man with blue eyes and more charm than any one person should be allowed to have.

She wondered where Killian was now. If he had already given up or if he was wasting more time and losing out on more money combing the streets looking for his erstwhile damsel in distress. Emma knew what she did was for the best as surely as she knew she would be haunted by the feeling of his arms wrapped around her for a long time.

After a brief break, the musician approached the piano again. Before he could start hammering out another song with the intensity of a madman, a raven-haired woman stepped in front of the instrument. She called out in a commanding voice, “Pardon the interruption but does anyone recognize this man? It would seem there was a mix-up at the ticket counter and someone accidentally handed in a photograph instead of their invitation to this private event.”

Resisting the urge to sink deeper into her chair, she furtively looked around as the audience murmured amongst themselves regarding the unusual disruption. She could tell by the sardonic tone of the woman’s voice and the way she emphasized the word private she wasn’t convinced it was an innocent mistake. A scene would be made if the guilty party were found and couldn’t provide the appropriate documentation.

“Really? No one is going to come forward?” With an annoyed look at the assembly, she sulked, “Fine, I won’t waste any more of your time.”

She saw the woman hurry to the corner and carry on a quick conversation with a few men before the group disbursed and fanned out to cover the room. Feeling her luck was running out, she slipped her feet back into her shoes with barely a wince and slowly stood under the watchful gaze of her neighbor.

She needed to escape for the second time that night, but now she had hundreds of witnesses. Nonchalantly, she surveyed the room, trying to determine the best way. During this perusal, a man caught her eye, and she froze as he began to cut across the room to her side. So much for a stealthy getaway.

Her pursuer had an air of refined boredom with an edge of mischief. His graying hair was an attractive finish to a lean, well-dressed form. Cocking an eyebrow in disdain or maybe curiosity, he spoke quietly to not draw the notice of the surrounding crowd. “A word, madam.”

“With me?”

“Indeed.”

“I was afraid you were going to say that.” Squaring her shoulders, she ignored the way her neighbor watched with rapt attention as she resolutely marched toward her fate.

@teamhook @kmomof4 @jrob64 @motherkatereloyshipper @stahlop @xarandomdreamx @xsajx @klynn-stormz

#CSMM #CSMM20 #Captain Swan #Captain Swan Movie Marathon #cs ff

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demisexualemmaswan · 4 years ago

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the story can resume (2/???)

A/N: "I'll definitely update in October," I said to myself two months ago. I tried to write but I admittedly struggled a little bit with writing this chapter. Hoping you'll enjoy this chapter! Also, I thought Henry was going to bet he sole narrator and then the muse decided otherwise. Hoping you’ll enjoy Emma and Killian’s perspective too!

Summary: “The story can resume. … I will return. Find you, love you, marry you and live without shame.”An unfortunate misunderstanding caused by secrets and naivety forces a young couple to be torn from each other far too soon. It’s up to Henry Nolan to put the clues together and right the wrong he has caused his sister and the man she loves most.Inspired by the book/film Atonement for the Captain Swan Movie Marathon. Tagging: @kmomof4 @hollyethecurious @teamhook @jarienn972 @dreameronarooftop15 @captain-emmajones @klynn-stormz @snowbellewells @csalltheway @captainswanmoviemarathon @captainswan21 @xsajx @lonelyspectator12 @yasbio2015 @mariakov81 @xarandomdreamx

[Read on Ao3]

“And he burnt the manuscript?” Killian asked angrily, digging another hole in the ground for the new shrubbery.

“He tried to,” Emma sighed from where she was lounging on the grass. “Apparently it was rescued from the fire with only a singed back cover and enough emotional scars to almost keep Henry from writing ever again.” She closed her eyes, tilting her face toward the sun. “Was it a mistake for me to leave, Killian?”

Her voice trembled and it stopped him in his tracks.

“I...I can handle it when father gets like that. It’s been this way for ages, and he’s never understood Henry. I should’ve stayed here to protect him.” She slung her arm over her face to stop him from seeing her tears. He could tell by the way her chest hitched a little bit. “At the very least, by now they would’ve married me off and I could do something they’d actually be proud of.”

“Emma,” Killian murmured, putting the shovel down. He furtively glanced around to make sure no one was watching him before he sat beside her. “Emma, love. You would’ve hated being stuck here. As awful as those gits were to you, I know how much you relished using your mind the last four years. You’re brilliant in so many other ways that your father is an arsehole for being unable to appreciate. There’s no point in sacrificing your happiness for everyone else’s. You deserve to be just as happy as any of them.”

He reached out to touch her and then thought better of himself.

Killian glanced around again to make sure that Emma was the only one who had heard him. If he was to be honest, he had gotten quite used to the freedom that had come with being at Oxford. No one scrutinized their every movement, he could speak his mind to Emma, and she could speak hers in turn. If anything, their time away from the manor had solidified their ironclad friendship. When they were taking the train home, Emma curled into his side as she slept, the nightfall cloaking everything that they had wanted to hide from each other, everything they’d wanted to ignore. But daylight had thrown everything into a sharp relief.

Their stations, and Emma’s family, would never accept him as being more than the servant boy that they found on the street. Which would’ve been perfectly fine, if Killian had not been ardently and devotedly in love with Emma. He had no idea if she returned his feelings, but he fancied himself the keeper and protector of her heart.

(He had other feelings toward Emma that he would only act upon when he was alone, as he pictured the hollow of her throat, her hair tossed back and what she would feel like around him.)

He would just have to simply resume the task in secret. If anything, it made him feel like her knight, championing himself for her, promising himself in all things to keep her heart safe. He was quite sure Emma would break his nose again if he ever verbalized his feelings, either sort of his feelings. She was a tough lass and she certainly didn’t need to be rescued. An incident in a bar at Oxford involving one Neal Cassidy and a broken foot certainly proved that to all and sundry that Emma Nolan was not to be trifled with.

But Killian did not mind building his best friend back up when she felt knocked down. She was fierce and brilliant, but it did not change that she needed to be reminded of this when the world knocked just a little too harshly.

“I’m supposed to be picking flowers,” Emma muttered, finally drawing her arm away from her face. Her eyes were dry, if a little red. “David’s coming home today. For a visit. Did you know?”

“Aye, I’d heard,” Killian murmured. “A very reliable author informed me.” Warmth and amusement flooded his tone and Emma chuckled softly in spite of herself. “He’s bringing the fiancee. Mary something.”

“Mary Margaret. And two friends: Walsh Ozman and Graham Hubert,” Emma sighed, her green eyes flickering up to him. In the sunlight, he could see the golden flecks that were found in both Henry and David’s eyes, but they made her eyes look all the more striking. “Apparently they’re both extremely eligible bachelors.” Her voice hardened and her eyes narrowed.

“Well, you can always break their noses and send them running,” Killian said serenely, standing up and getting ready to return to the yard work.

Emma rolled onto her side and looked up at him, a smile playing on the corners of her lips. “It didn’t scare you away,” she reminded him softly.

“And it never will,” he promised, heading over to the wheelbarrow and shovel again.

Emma’s hand reached for him as if to call him back and then she seemed to think better of herself, her fingers neatly folding in on themselves. “Thank you,” she murmured softly. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Killian.” She came up beside him for a moment and rested her chin on his shoulder, her arms ensnaring his waist.

He tilted his head slightly so he could look at her over his shoulder. “You’ll never have to find out,” he promised softly, his lips so close to hers that it wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibility to just turn around and kiss her.

For a moment they shared a breath, simply looking at each other. His eyes searched hers, desperate for some sign that he could do what he’d wanted to do for the last four years. Her gaze never broke from his, and he could’ve lost himself in the green of her eyes forever. She leaned in a little closer until a yell from the house distracted them both.

Emma pulled away abruptly, her breath rattled. Though he had not kissed her, he felt like his lips were buzzing with the anticipation of the act. “I need to go get the flowers,” she rasped, immediately turning on her heel and all but fleeing back into the house.

“Emma!” Killian called after her, racing to try and grab her hand, to get her to explain, to get her to tell him what the hell that just was.

But the honking down the lane signified the return of Liam with the car and the arrival of David and their guests.

And then one car became two, signaling the arrival of Emma’s cousins and Killian sighed. It was going to be a very long day.

“But I don’t want to act out your stupid old story!” Jack protested, folding his arms over his chest. “This is horrifically boring! Hardly any violence in it at all!” “I agree, I want there to be some action! I think it’d be rather exciting for Leon to be stabbed at the end and I am an excellent stabber!” Nick added excitedly.

“And I am very excellent at falling over and pretending to be dead!” Jack exclaimed. He leapt to his feet and Nick pretended to stab him. Jack held onto his chest and staggered before falling over, pretending to be dead. “See, Henry?” the boy asked, his voice muffled by the floor.

“No one is getting stabbed!” Henry protested hotly, crossing his arms. If he had known that casting his cousins in the reading of the story was going to be such an arduous task, he wouldn’t have done it at all. They were every bit as opinionated and bossy as they ever were, and any sympathy Henry had for their plight was long gone in the wake of their atrocious behavior. “If you want a part with stabbing then you can write your own story.”

“Let’s go swimming!” Jack cried, springing up from the ground. “It’s too hot and I don’t want to write or read any sort of story! It’s summer and I shan’t do any school work while I’m here!”

“It’s not school work,” Henry short back.

“No school! No school!” Nicholas chanted.

“Let’s go for a swim!” Jack cried.

“But then we won’t be prepared for--” Henry started, but the uproar of the twins drowned out his protest as the two bolted out of the rooms, racing to see which one could find their swimsuit the fastest and which one could do the biggest cannonball off the docks.

“Just a half an hour break, Henry.” His cousin, Ava, had only sat back during the whole exchange with a little smirk on her face. Even when she spoke, there was still a condescending edge to her tone that had Henry crossing his arms. “I’m sure you can manage that for your guests, can’t you? It’s what Uncle Leopold would want.”

Henry’s shoulders slumped. “Yeah, go take your swim,” he muttered, looking at the floor. “I’ll just be up here waiting when you guys get back.”

“Will you rewrite Arabella’s last scene so that she faints?” Ava asked, tapping her cheek. “I’m a wonderful fainter. My drama teacher at school says so.” Henry just nodded mutely. “Good boy,” she said snidely before flouncing out of the room.

WIth a sigh, Henry sat back down at his desk, pressing his forehead to the wood. There was a moment where he briefly considered tearing up the whole thing and letting his cousins off the hook. But he was sure that it would come back to haunt him someway.

No doubt Ava would complain that Henry wasn’t being courteous to the guests and had destroyed the book because it wasn’t going his way. And then Henry would get a long lecture which certainly would feature the phrase “man up” several times over.

Besides, as much as he wanted to, he was sure ripping up his manuscript would only prove his father right and greatly disappoint Emma. He was more afraid of the latter in that regard that the former and so he set it aside.

Still, there was nothing that said he couldn’t write a revenge story about his cousins very quickly. That he could shred up so that it would never see the light of day, and it would make him feel more amiable toward his cousins upon their return from their swim.

After quickly adding in a line at the end to indicate that Arabella would faint, Henry began work on his project to let out his frustrations. In this story, he was much braver, all but shouting at his cousins. In this story, his voice roared like a lion when he took back his manuscript from his father and his father kowtowed to his interests. And maybe in this story, he was just a little bit better at math. There was nothing quite like getting lost in a story, as the world around him seemed to fade away. His bedroom no longer seemed to exist, but instead a world of evil queens, werewolves and monsters. He was quite entranced in his plot when a shout drew him away from his writing. Going to the window, he saw Emma and Killian standing by the fountain. Their father’s favorite vase was beside Emma, full of flowers. Henry was too far away to hear exactly what they were saying but he could hear Killian’s voice shouting at Emma. His sister stood stock still before she brusquely began shimmying out of her dress leaving her only in her chemise. Henry ducked away from the window, his heart pounding against his chest. What had he just seen?

Had Killian told her to do that?

Emma, after leaving Killian in the garden, had walked back into the house to get the vase. Her cheeks burned with how close she and Killian had been, though she tried to convince herself that it was just because it was hot outside.

She only had a moment’s notice to pull herself together as the twins came barrelling down the hall.

“I can jump farther than you!” “Well I can swim faster than you!” “Goodness, what’s all this about?” Emma laughed, watching Jack and Nicholas chase each other around the table.

“Can we go for a swim, Emma, please?” they pleaded in unison, still chasing each other in a circle.

“Yes, of course you can go for a swim!” Emma laughed. “Go on! Race to see who can get there faster!” The boys giggled and went tumbling out of the house, shoving each other as they went. She smiled fondly for a moment before she went back to find the vase.

She picked her father’s favorite vase, knowing that he would want to show it off proudly on the table, and at least if she’d picked the right vase it would be a small recompense for whatever damage she was liable to do later on in the evening.

Closing her eyes and counting to three, she took in a few deep breaths still trying to will the heat in her cheeks away.

“Why are you so flushed, cousin?” Ava asked suspiciously from the door.

Emma’s eyes flew open. “Because it’s the hottest it’s been all summer,” she replied. “And I’ve just been in the garden.”

“With Killian, I’m sure.” Her cousin responded, then took a considerable pause before adding, “I’m sure your father would be very interested in hearing about that.”

Emma did not appreciate the tone that her cousin was taking. She stepped closer to Ava, just to remind the other girl she was a little taller and a little older.

“A reminder to you that this is my house, and I am to go where I please,” Emma replied firmly. “And if Killian happens to be working while I’m lounging in the garden, then there’s nothing wrong with that. If anything, I’m sure my father would love to hear how committed Killian is to the upkeep of the estate.”

She brushed past Ava before turning around and adding, “It would do you well, cousin, to be more gracious to your hosts. You may be a guest, but don’t think I don’t know about the money that’s gone into keeping your family’s indiscretions quiet.”

“Are you threatening me?” Ava demanded.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Emma replied with a thin smile. “I’m just reminding you that you could certainly practice a little more gratitude. After all, your reputation hangs quite precariously and if you fall out of my father’s favor, then you might actually have to work for a living, cousin.” She tilted her head and added, “Perhaps Killian might be able to teach you about gardening. He’s quite good at it.”

She began to walk away, but Ava was determined to have the last word. “At least I’m not a good-for-nothing like you!” Ava shot back, folding her arms over her chest with a pout.

She stopped in her tracks, turning around to face her cousin. The remark didn’t sting coming from her cousin. She heard it so often that the remark barely made a mark coming from anyone. “Was that meant to insult me?” Emma laughed, the sound high and bitter. “You’ll have to do better than that. I already know I’m a good-for-nothing.”

With that, she walked back out into the garden. Killian straightened up when he saw her, but didn’t dare approach. He went back to his work, watching her out of the corner of his eye. Emma picked flowers while she waited for Ava to stalk past them and follow her brothers. True to form, Ava flounced past them with her nose in the air.

“It’s an excellent bouquet you’ve picked, love,” was the first thing Killian said to her, after a few moments of heavy silence.

“Yes, I think David will like them a lot,” Emma said, trying to keep her voice bright. “I just need to grab some water from the fountain.”

“Well, that works out for me. Your mother wishes me to water the rose bushes by the fountain. I’ll come with you.”

Emma and Killian walked side by side to the fountain, the only sound passing between them the rattling of the wheelbarrow at first.

“You’re not a good-for-nothing,” he said quietly to her. “You have to know you’re…”

“I am, Killian,” Emma said quietly. “But you’re sweet for saying I’m not.” Her sigh was heavy. “Knowing me, somehow I’ll have picked the wrong flowers or the wrong vase too.”

“Well, let me water them for you,” Killian offered gallantly when they arrived at the fountain. “So that you can say you didn’t mess up the watering.” He wrapped his fingers around the handle of the vase.

“No, I’ve got it.” She tugged the vase closer to her.

“I insist, love.” He tugged it back to him.

“It’s watering a vase. I can do it.” A firmer tug and a firmer tone.

“Emma, it’s fine!” His handle broke off of the vase and fell into the fountain. His eyes met hers and he shrugged. “Oops.”

“Don’t ‘oops’ me, Killian Jones!” Emma demanded, running a hand over her face. “That was my father’s favorite vase. He’s going to kill me.”

“I’m sure he won’t,” Killian replied. Emma took a step forward to yell at him. “Careful!” he shouted. Her feet had barely brushed the jagged edges of the vase and she stopped, frozen for a moment. Realizing that the handle was still in the water, she quickly stripped down to her chemise and dove in to fetch it. She winced when she felt the jagged edge of the broken piece cut into her hand, but she still held on when she came up for air.

“Emma, your hand! It’s cut!” Killian exclaimed. “Let me help.” “It’s fine,” Emma replied, fully aware that she was dripping with water and her chemise was essentially see through at this point.

“Let me help,” Killian insisted again, gingerly taking her hand in his own.

“So now you’re going to a gentleman?” she asked, trying to keep her breath from hitching at just how close they were standing to one another.

“Goodness only knows what’s been living in that pond and if we have to cut off your hand, I’ll never hear the end of it,” Killian replied. “And I’m always a gentleman.” He took a bottle out of his pocket and gently began pouring it on Emma’s hand. “Ah!” she hissed. “What the hell is that?” “Rum,” Killian replied, closing the bottle and taking her hand back in his. “And a bloody waste of it too.”

“What? Are you drinking on the job?” Emma asked, raising an eyebrow. “Hardly, but it makes for an exemplary disinfectant,” Killian replied. He took a handkerchief from his pocket and began wrapping it around her hand. Using his mouth to secure it, he very gingerly tied it in a knot to secure it in place. “There.”

“Thank you,” she said breathlessly, the hairs on her arms standing up.

“Is that all your hand is worth to you?” he teased, pulling back. “Perhaps some gratitude is in order.” He tapped his lips playfully, and Emma rolled her eyes.

“That’s what the thank you was for,” Emma retorted, her eyes shining with mirth. “Besides, it wouldn’t have happened if you had just let me fill the vase.” Killian quirked an eyebrow at her, and she smirked at him, knowing full well that he had blushed when pretty girls looked at him at Oxford. “Please. You couldn’t handle it.”

“Perhaps you’re the one who couldn’t handle it,” Killian taunted, popping the ‘t’ sound in ‘it’.

Emma stared at him for a moment before grabbing him by the suspenders and yanking him toward her. Her mouth slid against his and she desperately pressed into it for more. His arm hooked around her waist while his other hand went to her hair, trying to draw her in closer. She couldn’t help but moan as their lips slid together and he pushed back as if he could never get enough. When they broke for air, she was still clinging to his suspenders. They were sharing a breath, and though Emma couldn’t see Killian’s face--when had she closed her eyes?--he sounded as wrecked as he felt. Then, with a horrified spring of guilt, she realized that this was her best friend, and by kissing him, she could’ve compromised his future and his esteem in her father’s eyes.

“That was…” Killian started, the wonder still in his voice. “A one time thing,” Emma said frantically, pulling away from him. She gathered her things together and headed back into the house, leaving Killian there alone.

It broke her heart to leave him there, but she couldn’t put his future in danger.

The kiss made her realize that he meant too much to her for that.

#blaire's writing #csmm #csmm20 #captain swan movie marathon #cs ff #cs ff au #captain swan fanfiction

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kmomof4 · 4 years ago

Text

Chosen, Protected, & Saved Ch. 3

We made it!!! It’s the final chapter of Chosen, Protected, & Saved for the @captainswanmoviemarathon!!! Thank you all for the trust you placed in me after last weeks cliffhanger. Everything gets tied up in this chapter, happy ending ahoy, and I hope y'all enjoy it!!! Thank you so much for coming along on this ride with me!! I’d love to know what you think!!

All the love and hugs to @profdanglaisstuff and @hollyethecurious for their beta services, brainstorming sessions, and encouragement!! Thank you so much, ladies!!! This fic wouldn't be here without either of you!!! *MWAH* 😘

Summary: A little boy with the Heart of the Truest Believer. Demonic forces will stop at nothing to possess it. It’s up to Killian Jones, PI to find him and save him before it’s too late.

Rating: T

Words: 4253 of 18.4K

Tags: Inspired by The Golden Child, Kidnapping, Magic, Minor Character Death, Temporary Major Character Death, True Loves Kiss

ao3 fic link ch link Prologue on Tumblr Ch1 on Tumblr Ch2 on Tumblr

Tag list: @hollyethecurious @winterbaby89 @snowbellewells @stahlop @resident-of-storybrooke @jennjenn615 @kingofmyheart14 @profdanglaisstuff @thisonesatellite @branlovestowrite @ultraluckycatnd @flslp87 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @let-it-raines @shireness-says @kymbersmith-90 @darkcolinodonorgasm @bethacaciakay @searchingwardrobes @ilovemesomekillianjones @teamhook @aprilqueen84 @qualitycoffeethings @superchocovian @artistic-writer @donteattheappleshook @doodlelolly0910 @seriouslyhooked @tiganasummertree @lfh1226-linda @nikkiemms @xsajx @klynn-stormz @captainswanmoviemarathon @jonirobinson64 @itsfabianadocarmo

Please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed.

Under the cut, unless Tumblr ate it.

Ch. 3

Killian finally came to a stop in front of a warehouse near Boston harbor in the early hours of the morning. Even traveling down state roads and the interstate in the middle of the night, he lost count of the number of frenzied honks he heard as Bubo flew only about fifteen feet above the road and about that same distance in front of him. It made it wonderfully convenient to not have to worry about losing him.

Now that he was here, he scanned the building in front of him, taking note of the surroundings. The large, imposing structure reminded him of the slasher flicks he used to watch as a teenager. The kind of places that the audience groaned or shouted at the hero to not go in. A chill tried to work its way down his spine. He put a firm lid on it reminding himself that he had to find Henry and bring him home. Going in with no foreknowledge of this particular building or backup, it was important for him to identify potential hiding places, entrances and exits, security cameras and the like. It was times like these that he thanked God for the experience he gained as a beat cop then detective with the Boston PD before he left the force and struck out on his own as a PI. That background would surely be useful in getting to Henry.

Not seeing anything that stood out, and making a mental note of where Bubo had flown up to the building and disappeared, he checked that his piece was ready to rock in case of trouble and got out of his car. Securing the Glock in the shoulder holster he wore, he crouched in the shadow of the vehicle before he ran the fifteen or so feet to the side of the structure. Turning toward the lone door, he could feel the dark magic covering it. He could almost see the magic, even in the darkness, a slightly shimmering cascade that he hesitated to touch. Pushing back his exhaustion and gathering his courage, he reached out to touch the door and was amazed when his hand passed right through the magical barrier. The dark magic chilled him to the bone, but he turned the knob and found it unlocked. He figured the Dark One must not be too concerned about anyone getting past his magic.

As he opened the door, something oddly familiar awoke just under his skin. A humming that was strangely comforting. He remembered feeling something like it in the split second before his magic saved Emma underneath the cathedral the night before. Could it be my magic? Closing the door behind him, he took care to stay in the shadows. The main space of the warehouse was completely empty, but he didn’t want to risk being seen by any cameras that might be hidden by the shadows near the top of the building. He stayed by the wall and made his way around to where the offices appeared to be on the other side. As he got closer, the humming became a full fledged vibration. A rustle from up above drew his attention as Bubo flew down. He held his arm out like he’d seen raptor trainers do and Bubo landed neatly on his offered limb. He wasn’t prepared for the sharp talons though, as they pierced the leather of his jacket. It was all he could do to limit the scream that wanted to emerge to a loud pain-filled hiss. His magic started to crackle at the ends of his fingers as he continued stealthily toward the offices. Bubo was not thrilled with the magic sparking so close to where he sat, so he took off again.

Killian finally came to the first office, but as he peered in through the open door, he saw nothing of interest. As he moved toward the second, lightning started to spark from his hands. Killian inhaled sharply as he saw that the door was closed and the sheen of more magic caught his eye. Henry was obviously being held inside. The disquiet he felt in his spirit only intensified as he got closer to the door. For someone who was so desperate to keep him away from Henry and this case, there was a disconcerting lack of trouble actually getting to the boy. Killian pulled his gun out. He wasn’t sure it’d be terribly effective against the Dark One, if he also happened to be in the office, but it certainly helped him feel better. Not quite so vulnerable. He may have his own magic, but he didn’t have the first idea of how to use it, especially not in a situation like this.

He looked in the window of the door to the office. On the other side of the room, he could see a small boy asleep on the floor, covered by nothing but his own clothing. Killian’s heart nearly broke before an anger he had never known completely overtook him. He held his left hand up to the door, and a surge of blue magic completely obliterated the magical shield and destroyed the door as well. The jarring racket was enough of a shock without the startled cry both from Henry and the other boy in the room. Killian hadn’t noticed the teenaged guard asleep on the plush sofa behind the desk when he looked through the window. Another surge of rage filled him at the mistreatment Henry had suffered at the hands of the Dark One and his teenaged cohorts. Before he could even think, another surge of magic pulsed from his open left hand toward the youth. He still held the Glock in his right, but in a corner of his mind, he was glad it was magic going off and not the gun. The teen was thrown back on the sofa and was completely frozen, rendered impotent in thwarting their escape.

Killian replaced the gun in his holster and approached Henry as Bubo flew in. “Bubo!” Henry cried. Bubo landed on the floor before him and turned his head to look at Killian. Henry looked up at the man standing in the doorway. Something about him seemed familiar, though he couldn’t tell what.

“Henry?” Killian asked. Henry nodded. “I’m Killian and I’m here to take you home. Will you come with me?”

Henry nodded and stood up. “I know,” he said.

Killian tilted his head, puzzled. “You know?”

“Yeah. Bubo told me.” He held his wrist out. “Can you take this off, please? It stops me from using my magic. I can’t remove it, but someone else can.”

“Sure,” Killian replied. He reached under the black cuff on the boy’s wrist and pulled it off. He held his hand out and Henry took it as they walked toward the door. Before they got there, however, a chill came over Killian that meant only one thing. He stopped and looked down at the little boy whose eyes shone with absolute trust as he looked back at him.

“We’ve got to get out of here quick, Henry,” Killian said. “He’s coming,” he looked back at the door, “if he’s not here already.”

At that moment, a purple cloud of smoke enveloped him and Henry and the next moment, they were back at Regina’s.

“Regina!” Henry cried, running into her outstretched arms.

“Henry!” she exclaimed, “I’m so glad you’re safe!” She held him close and Killian’s eyes filled with tears at the sight.

Regina looked up at him and mouthed a silent “thank you” as she continued rocking the boy back and forth. She released him and held him away from her as she quickly scanned him for any signs of injury.

Henry’s eyes sparkled with happiness as he turned back to Killian. “Killian saved me.”

A watery smile split Regina’s face. “I know,” she exclaimed, “I was watching him. And you were right, Killian,” she continued, looking up at him. “The Dark One was there. He was just outside the office. I didn’t want to risk a confrontation with him, so I just brought you back myself.” She turned her eyes back upon Henry. “Henry,” she said, softly, “there’s something I need to tell you.”

Killian suddenly remembered the events from earlier in the night and it was all he could do to remain on his feet instead of collapsing to his knees in despair. He’d been so focused on finding and getting Henry, that Emma’s death had been pushed to the back of his mind. Now it came back to the forefront and all he wanted to do was curl into a ball until his complete and utter heartbreak eased enough for him to go on. His jaw clenched and his eyes filled with fresh tears as Regina took Henry’s hand in her own and led him from the room.

They climbed the stairs to the bedroom he and Emma had shared the night before. She was laid out on the bed looking so peaceful he could almost believe she simply slept. Henry stared at his mother.

“Mama?” he said, in a trembling voice. He took a step toward her.

“The Dark One came last night to get the dagger, Henry. Before Killian came for you,” Regina whispered. “He and your mama fought hard, but the Dark One killed her before I could intervene. I’m so sorry, Henry.” Regina choked back a sob as Henry moved toward his mother. “But, there is a way to save her.”

Killian’s head turned sharply towards Regina. “What?”

“Killian,” she began, wiping away her own tears, “there is no doubt in my mind that you share a bond with Emma. A bond that I’ve never actually seen before, although I’ve heard tales...” She took a deep breath. “When you got back here last night, you were both so tired that there was no time to talk about what happened when you went after the dagger. But I could see the remnants of the magic you used while you were gone surrounding you. And as I said when we were talking about your magic, it would have only come to the surface in a moment of extreme emotional upheaval. Whether that was fear, love, joy, or sadness. Can you tell me what happened to trigger it?”

Killian’s agitation increased at her question. Why was she asking him this? What did his magic have to do with anything? Especially when there was a possibility that Emma could be saved. They were wasting time!

Regina’s eyes bored into his as she made a placating motion with her hand. “I know this seems random. But please believe me when I say, it truly isn’t. My question has everything to do with saving Emma.”

Killian swallowed hard and looked down at Henry’s face. The little boy nodded at him, encouraging him to trust Regina and answer the question.

“We were underneath the cathedral, but hadn’t made it yet to the chamber of the dagger under Stonehenge,” he whispered, haltingly. “A teenager… kind of gangly, blonde headed, thin as a scarecrow, came at us with a sword.” He shook his head as the details came back to him. “Some kind of black, thick substance coated the tip. I would have guessed it was tar. But why would someone put tar on a sword?” He shook his head again, cutting off his rambling. “Anyway, he was coming for her and I threw my arm out to try and push her back out of his way. I remember feeling a tingling just before my magic shot out and sent him flying across the chamber.” He bowed his head in shame. “His head cracked against a column.” He swallowed hard. “I’ve never been responsible for the death of someone that young.”

“You’re sure he was dead?” Regina asked, her heart hurting for him.

“When it happened, we couldn’t stop. We had to keep going. But when we came back and he still hadn’t moved, I checked his pulse.” His eyes looked haunted, but his story confirmed her earlier thoughts. The manifestation of his magic at that time and under those circumstances told her that their bond was indeed True Love.

“You can save Emma, Killian,” she asserted.

Killian’s eyes widened. If the situation wasn’t so serious, she would almost laugh.

“How?”

“You saw how the Dark One removed Emma’s heart and crushed it.” He nodded. “Magic users can remove hearts. I can remove yours, split it, and put one half inside each of your chests. You have True Love for her, and that True Love should bring her back.”

“True Love,” Killian breathed, completely overwhelmed. He never knew that such a thing existed. But it would certainly explain the connection he felt with her and how and why he fell in love with her so quickly. Not to mention the way he felt about Henry, a little boy that he had met literally minutes ago. He shook his head again. He didn’t even have to think. “Do it,” he demanded.

Regina held her hand up and tilted her head to the side in warning. “There are risks that you should know about.”

“I don’t care about any risks,” he assured her, vehemently. “If it will save Emma, it’s worth it.” He looked down at the woman he loved on the bed. “She is worth everything,” he whispered.

The sun was rising and the bedroom was flooded with the morning light. Henry raised his hand to Killian’s heart. His palm glowed a vibrant gold color. A soothing warmth filled him. “You’ll save my mama, Killian.”

Killian nodded. “I will indeed, lad.” He looked at Regina again. “Do it.”

Regina placed her hand on his chest. She stared into his eyes, deadly serious before she pushed her hand into his chest cavity. The pain stole Killian’s breath, but he looked over at Emma on the bed and endured it as he felt Regina’s fingers close around his heart and pull it out. He caught his breath and beheld the glowing heart now in the palm of Regina’s hand. He looked back at Emma on the bed, and while he could still feel his love for her, it was muted. Regina looked back up at him.

“When your heart is no longer inside your body, all your emotions will be dulled. They’ll be restored as soon as it’s back where it belongs.”

Killian nodded. “This is going to hurt. Are you ready?” Regina asked.

“As I’ll ever be,” he replied.

Regina placed her other hand over his heart and twisted. A pain far worse than being shot burst through him and his knees buckled. He landed on all fours on the floor and looked back up. Both of Regina’s hands now held a piece of his heart. She knelt before him and placed her right hand at his chest again. She pushed into his empty chest cavity and he took a deep cleansing breath as the agony subsided.

“Can’t say as that’s something I’d ever want to repeat, love,” he quipped.

Regina let out a small laugh. “I should hope not.” She rose with him and turned to Emma on the bed.

She moved quickly and pushed her other hand into Emma’s chest. Everyone held their breath as they waited. When about twenty seconds had passed with no movement from Emma, Regina’s brow furrowed and panic started to rear its ugly head in his mind. Henry turned to Regina.

“What’s wrong? Why isn’t she waking up?”

At that moment, the bone chilling cold of the same dark magic that he had encountered just a short time ago came over Killian. He turned wide, alarmed eyes at Regina who stared at him with equal apprehension.

“He’s here,” they stated, together.

Regina waved her hand and the dagger appeared in her hand. She handed it to Killian.

“This is the only thing that can destroy him.” Regina’s eyes were wide with dread as she gave him last minute instructions. “As the Chosen One, it falls to you. As long as you hold it, you are master of the dagger. He can’t summon it to himself. Don’t lose your grip on it, whatever you do!”

Killian nodded. Regina continued as they all ran downstairs. “You may be untrained in magic, Killian, but your love for Emma has made you powerful. Use it! Magic is emotion. Keep your love for Emma at the front of your mind, and you can defeat him. Stay inside, Henry,” Regina said, turning to the boy. Henry nodded and he and Regina ran onto the back lawn where the Dark One waited for them.

“Ahhh,” he gloated, “You’ve brought me my dagger! How considerate of you!” He waved his hand and they were both frozen in place. Terror filled him as the demon strolled toward him. When he was so close that he could smell the fire and brimstone emanating from him, he felt the same sensation that he had just experienced at Regina’s hand.

The Dark One stood before him with his half a heart glowing in his hand.

“Interesting,” the demon cooed. “Only half a heart. Where is the other half?” he asked, speculatively, “Could it possibly be in the chest of your Twue Wuv?” he singsonged. He looked back at Killian and cackled. “But where is she? She’s not here, is she?” He got right in Killian’s face with such a face of gloating triumph that Killian felt sick. “No True Love’s Kiss, then? Awww, and that’s the only thing that can save her, isn’t it? Since it’s your heart, only your True Love’s Kiss will do.” Killian’s eyes grew wide as the beast’s statement registered in his panic. “But if I crush your heart,” he squeezed slightly, the pain overwhelming Killian, stealing his breath, “you can’t very well share True Love’s Kiss with her, can you?”

Rage filled Killian and if he could have spit in the creature’s face, he would have. But at least he knew why Emma hadn’t come back when Regina placed his heart in her chest. The kiss, his kiss, was needed to bring her back to him.

“Fortunately for you,” the Dark One continued, “I can’t crush your heart as long as you hold my dagger. But I can hold your heart. For as long as necessary. I can leave you right here, frozen, until your death returns my dagger to me. But, I don’t want to wait that long.” He shrugged, in studied casualness. “So how about a trade? I give you back your heart so you can save your lady love, and you give me my dagger. The Dark One never breaks a deal, so you have nothing to fear and boy is obviously well protected, for now.” He sneered in Regina’s direction. “Do we have a deal?”

Killian’s brain worked furiously. It was an impossible choice. By releasing the dagger, the chances of being able to destroy him shrunk exponentially, plus, he was giving the monster exactly what he wanted, bringing him one step closer to being able to harm Henry. A very large step. But, he would be able to save Emma and surely, between the three of them, they could protect Henry. If he refused, the Dark One would simply hold his heart until his death returned the dagger to the demon and Emma would remain as she was, forever.

He cut his eyes toward Regina, her own eyes wide with realization. He tried to convey how sorry he was in his gaze before he turned his eyes back on the demon in front of him.

“I’m going to partially lift the freezing spell I’ve got on you now and you can give me your answer.”

Killian’s mouth and hand holding the dagger were suddenly free.

“Fine,” he gritted out. “You have a deal. My heart for your dagger.” He opened his hand and the dagger fell to the ground. The Dark One giggled and picked the dagger up from the ground. He looked back at Killian.

“A pleasure doing business with you, dearie,” he chortled as he all but punched his heart back into his chest. As soon as he had done so, he was enveloped in a cloud of grey smoke and disappeared.

The enchantment holding them frozen disappeared with him. Killian collapsed to the ground and Henry ran out of the house toward them.

“True Love’s Kiss, Killian,” he cried. “When you give Mama True Love’s Kiss, you’ll save her!” Regina ran over to him as he struggled back to his feet.

“Aye, lad,” he replied, somewhat out of breath from his ordeal, “Let’s go give it a try.”

At that moment, the Dark One again appeared in the yard, this time just behind Henry. He had not gone far and was simply waiting for Henry to leave the house so that he could strike. Regina screamed as Killian jumped in between the Dark One and Henry and tackled the demon. Regina grabbed Henry and ran for the safety of the house.

They crashed to the ground and the Dark One lost his grip on the dagger. As they rolled, each trying to gain the upper hand, Killian remembered what Regina had told him on the way down. That his love for Emma made him powerful and that if he kept his love for her at the front of his mind, he could defeat the monster.

Killian closed his eyes and let the love he had for Emma fill him completely. He pictured the dagger in his hand and the same moment, felt the instrument in his grip. His fist curled around it and he pulled the hilt toward his chest, the blade tilted slightly upward. The Dark One was on top of him now, their faces so close together that Killian could see the madness in his enemy’s eyes and then the grimace that crossed his lips as he felt the dagger pierce flesh.

The demon went limp on top of him. Killian pushed the dead weight off only to find the dagger buried in the Dark One’s chest. A dark swirling cloud poured out of the wound and coalesced around the dagger. After a few moments, the cloud, the dagger, and the Dark One, his unseeing eyes staring toward the rising sun, seemed to fold in on themselves, until with a pop, they were gone.

Killian got back to his feet and looked to where Regina and Henry had made it inside the house. He ran toward them as Henry barreled out the back door toward him. He caught him in his arms and spun him around, laughing at the little boy’s exuberance.

“You killed him,” Henry shouted.

“I did, indeed, my boy,” he said. “You’re safe now. He can’t ever hurt you again.”

“Thank God for that,” Regina agreed, hugging them both.

Killian held them both in his arms for a few moments, relishing the fact that they were all alive and safe. All except one. He looked back at Henry as he set him on the ground. “Let’s go save your Mama, shall we Henry?”

“Yeah!” Henry shouted, taking off for the house again. Killian and Regina followed him into the house and up to the bedroom where Emma still lay.

Killian entered the room after Regina and Henry. The morning light completely filled the room now and Emma seemed to be surrounded by a gold shroud spun from pure light. He had never beheld anything so breathtakingly beautiful. Everything faded from the periphery as he moved toward her. His heart raced in his chest and his breathing hitched as he beheld her. His True Love. He knelt beside the bed and took one of her hands in his own. His thumb rubbed over her knuckles as he leaned over her and pressed his lips to her own. It took only a moment before a rainbow burst fell over them and Emma took a breath and opened her eyes.

“Killian,” she breathed. Killian’s face split in the biggest smile he’d ever worn.

“Swan,” he exclaimed, gathering her in his arms, tears of joy filling his eyes.

She hugged him back just as fiercely before they were interrupted by Henry’s enthusiastic “Mama!” before he launched himself toward her from where Regina had held him near the door.

“Henry!” She caught him up in her arms, hugging him tightly. “I’m so glad you’re safe! I was so worried!”

“I know, Mama,” he exclaimed, “Killian saved me! And he saved you, too!” Emma looked back at him, pure love shining out of her eyes. He scratched behind his ear until he finally looked back at her. “He’s your True Love, Mama! He saved you with True Love’s Kiss! That means he’s gonna stay here with us!” Henry spoke a mile a minute in his unbridled enthusiasm. “Right, Killian?” Henry turned back toward him, expectantly.

“With your mother’s permission, lad, I’d like that very much.”

Emma beamed as she held out her hand for Killian to take. “I think we can handle that.”

Killian grinned widely as he took her proffered hand and bent over to kiss her again.

It didn’t take long for Killian to move his PI practice to Storybrooke where he courted Emma properly, much to the sheriff’s dismay. A year later, Killian and Emma were married, and a year after that, Henry had a baby sister to show off.

And they all lived happily ever after.

The End

~*~*~

Thank you all for all your love for me and this fic!!! I’d love to know what you thought!!!

#csmm20 #chosen protected & saved #krystal writes #art by krystal #inspired by the golden child

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lassluna · 4 years ago

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Off the Deep End (2/?)

Emma Swan has had to fight for everything in her life. She’s had to fight to keep a roof over their heads, she’s had to fight to keep her marriage from crumbling--that was a fight doomed from the start--and to fight to make something of herself.

Then of course that rich snob on a boat cost her her job. He’s an absolute prick who has probably never fought for anything in his entitled life. So when an opportunity for a little revenge pops up, who was she to deny it?

Now she has to fight to keep from having actual feelings for the amnesiac who might just care about her and her kids.

CS Overboard AU

Ao3 FFN

AN: Long over due second chapter of my @captainswanmoviemarathon, submission thank you so much for you support of this. I really appreciate it. Also thank you @carpedzem for the wonderful art It’s wonderful as always.

Chapter 2

Killian Jones had never wanted for anything. Not with his mother’s multimillion dollar shipping company that she had built herself. Their fortune provided him the opportunity to live in the lapse of luxury, anything he so desired was his with a simple phone call or a credit card. Everything except his mother herself.

He remembered Alice Jones fondly, remembers the trips to the beach they went on, being 5 years old and watching her teach his elder brother to sail. They both adored their time with her, their time cooking in the kitchen, going to a movie anything to keep the boys from realizing just how privileged they were.

He remembers what she used to tell them before they went to sleep. “A man who doesn’t fight for what he wants deserves what he gets.” She would say. He tried to live by that, even after her death when he was still a child. Even after his father, drowning in grief, spent most of his childhood in board meetings or bars rather than with him.

Boarding schools raise the children of the rich. This was a fact Killian knew quite well from all his time spent in them. But Killian was nothing if not resourceful. A man who doesn’t fight for what they want deserves what they get, and so whatever Killian wanted, he would get. He had enough power and influence to do so.

Sometimes it took money, other times it took throwing around his father’s reputation. Anyone who said no to him never held firm for long, all it took was a message to his father (His secretary really if Killian was being honest) and whatever stood in his way crumbled under their weight.

(Killian never really asked how exactly they did it, just that it was easier than parenting)

Liam never really liked Killian’s mentality when it came to these things, he always tried to teach Killian how to deal with things like this with honor or good form. Those concepts made him roll his eyes.

It’s not like Liam ever stuck around either to actually clean up the mess his bouts of ‘honor’ led him into. The moment Liam joined the military Killian was alone again, back to handling things his way. It was easier that way.

Killian would never want for anything. Except maybe for this splitting headache to subside. And it wasn’t from a bloody hangover.

“Here you go babe.” A voice says besides him as one of the crewen handed her an icepack to put on his aching head. “I can’t believe that crazy person threw you off your own ship!” She exclaims, the coldness seems to help his aching head.

He smiled at her, his brunette beautiful girlfriend of half a decade. He doesn’t know what he’d do without her, or at the very least he’d have a lot less fun doing it.

“Perhaps Mr. Jones needs to go see a doctor.” The crewman notes. Milah rolls her eyes.

“Killian is fine, aren’t you babe?” She asks. “We have a party tonight that I-we simply can not miss.” He smirks. Typical Milah, much like himself she knows that the celebration shouldn’t stop, he was Killian Jones after all.

What he wanted, he got, what he couldn’t have he’d buy. Simple as that.

“Mr. Jones, you have a call sir.” Another crewman said, the young lady who typically served the food. He waved her away.

“Tell whoever that is I’m busy.” He says. He does not have time for his father or brother getting involved in his personal life. Always wanting to change him to fit their needs. He had no interest in whatever they had to say.

“Your brother says it can’t wait.” She adds nervously. “He said something about flying over if you don’t take his call.

Killian groans in annoyance. The only thing worse than talking to Liam is him showing up here unannounced and killing his buzz. He recalls a time last year when he and his mates stormed into his party and effectively confiscated all the rum, a killing blow to even the most lively of events.

“Fine.” He says offering his hand for the phone. “What is it brother?”

“Nice way to greet me, little brother.” Liam says mildly amused.

“Younger brother.” He responds impatiently. Killian’s always hated his nickname which of course just made Liam use it at every turn. “Now tell me what’s so important that you had to threaten to show up if I don’t answer?” He snaps. He glances at Milah’s face, she seems mildly annoyed but listening all the same.

“Why are you in Maine?” He asks. “You’re supposed to be in New York for father’s birthday.” Killian rolls his eyes.

“Well that’s exactly why I am here, brother. Today it’s Maine and then tomorrow we head out to cross the Atlantic, we’re thinking of hitting London next.I have no intention of visiting my father and his gang of supporters and gathering around and talking about what a wonderful father he is.” Killian snaps. “You and I both know he wasn’t.”

“Be that as it may, he still only wants the best for us.” Liam adds. “Just come down, smile and then you can be off again.”

“You know the second I step foot there he’s going to be down my throat about taking up the reigns of the company alongside you.” Killian reminds him. He does so every time he sees him.

“And is that so bad?” Liam asks. “Is it so terrible to try to protect what mother built? So terrible to make something of our lives?” Killian can tell he was getting impatient with him “It’s about time you stop obsessing over the past and grow up brother.”

“Easy for you to say, you joined the bloody military to get away from him.” Killian reminds him. While Liam was off being the honorable brother, he was expected to take part of their mother’s company. He never wanted any of that. But what he wanted never seemed to matter.

“And you used alcohol and your bloody boat.” Liam snaps. “What would our mother think if she saw you now? Prancing around without a care in the world with that gold digger at your side”

Now Killian was getting angry. “Mother always said we need to fight for what we want, brother. And right now I want to be done with this conversation.”

Killian didn’t wait for a response before hanging up.

He gives a long sigh, running his hand through his hair in frustration. Talking to his family always left him frustrated. Couldn’t they see he was not interested in any of that? That he was perfectly content with life as it was?

“I’m sorry sweetie.” Milah says, as she always does when he has a difficult phone call with his family. “But maybe it’s best for us to go.” She offers. “Rub a few elbows, and maybe get absolutely wasted at your dear ol’ dad’s expense.” She says with a smirk.

He can’t help smile at Milah’s attempt to make him feel better.

“But for now, let’s get ready for the best party this little rundown port has ever seen!” She says happily. She stands up and points to the crew who had given her the cold press. “What are you standing around for? We have work to do.” She announces. “Don’t worry babe, I’ll take care of everything.” She promises.

True to her word, she does. Killian can’t help but laugh at the way Milah barked her orders and demanded at his employees, making sure that this party Milah insisted on throwing was to her liking.

Hell hath no fury like a disappointed Milah.

The party was excellent, just as Milah intended. Lord knows he would have heard about it had things gone any other way. It was something Killian liked about her, always striving for perfection.

They headed off to sea onwards the end of the party, just in time for the locals to get the bloody hell off his ship. Killian quite enjoyed it like that. He much preferred to head off to England with just his normal crew and Milah.

“Did you have a good time?” Milah asks, smiling down at him from her position on the railing. He was nursing one last beer, watching the lights from the town fade away.

“Of course love.” He says, standing up to give her a swift peck on the cheek. She didn’t hesitate to draw him in deeper, a hand on his cheek. “I always do.”

It made her smile brighter.

“Always.” She repeats. “That’s what I’ve been meaning to talk to you about. We’ve been together for years Killian.”

He nods. It had been a whirlwind romance, full of sex and alcohol and quite a bit of fun along the way. She understood him in ways that most did not. Far more than his brother or father ever did.

“Always.” Milah repeats. “Do you think...” She trails off. He smiles, cupping her cheek.

“What is it? You know you can talk to me.”

“Killian.” She says slowly. “Have you ever thought... do you think...”She looks away then glances up. “Marry me Killian Jones.”

He doesn’t think he’s heard her correctly. Marriage? Him?

He can’t help it, he bursts out laughing. Him marry her? It was more ridiculous the more he thought about it. He felt Milah push him away, her hopeful smile gone in an instant.

“Why are you laughing?” She demands. “You ungrateful bastard.” She pushes him again rougher.

“Milah...” He says trailing off. “Why the hell would I want to marry you?” Because that’s the truth. They’d never spoken about this, never talked long term. Sure they've been together for the last few years but he never...he never thought about them being long term, never thought she wanted that life.

He sure as hell doesn’t want it. He doesn’t want to run the company like Liam wants him to. He doesn’t want to stop seeing the world and he sure as hell doesn’t want marriage and children.

Perhaps Milah doesn’t quite understand him like he thought.

“Because-Because” She stutters out. “Because you love me!” She declares.

He shakes his head. “Milah I think you have the wrong idea about what we have. It’s just...fun, nothing so serious. Just mindless fun.”

“You absolute jackass!” She shrieks and gives him another push in the chest. It doesn’t hurt persay, but it does make his grip on the railing loosen, then there’s a sickening crack as the security on the railing breaks under their weight. He stumbles backwards and barely catches himself. He’s holding onto his ship now.

“Bloody hell.” He curses. “That was a close-”

He’s interrupted by something being smashed over his head. The next thing he knows he hits the freezing cold water below.

He wakes up cold. The sun is high in the sky and everything bloody hurts. From his head, to his arm to ever bloody inch of his skin.

He groans at sound above him, buzzing and buzzing.

“...who is he...”

“...ambulance...”

He opens his eyes just a crack. There’s a man, no two of them, standing over him, one has a phone in his hand.

“Sir?” he says. “Are you alright?”

He’s not but that should be bloody obvious.

“Can you tell us your name?” He blinks.

He can’t. He can’t remember...anything.

“Killian Swan.” He repeats, now knowing his name.

Something about the name doesn’t sit right with him. But then again, he doesn’t know what does sit right with him.

He narrows his eyes at the blonde. “And you’re my wife?” He repeats, looking over the blonde once more. She’s attractive enough, he thinks. But she seems guarded, not at all the warm welcome he expected from a loving wife. Not to mention the obvious waitress outfit she had on. No, no wife of his would have to resort to serving food to make a living. He can’t explain it, but he knows that his life was more than that, it was...he wasn’t sure...

“What the bloody hell happened? Why am I here and why can’t I remember anything?” He snaps impatiently. He has a hundred questions, starting with why he woke up on the beach and why it took him so long to be found. He’s been in this insufferable hospital for hours and-

“Cool it buddy.” The blonde snaps, shutting him down immediately. “Doctors say you got hit in the head, gave you some long term amnesia, probably from falling off the harbor drinking.”

“Drinking.” He repeats. Now that sounds like a fantastic idea...

“How are you feeling?” She asks, her expression softening slightly. But he can still feel walls from his lovely wife.

“Irritated.” He replies. “And how do I know you’re telling the truth?”

The blonde crosses her arms. “You have a compass tattoo on your rib cage.” She replies. “A little detail I would only know if I was your wife.” She replies smugly.

“I do not have a-” He stops short as he lifts his shirt to reveal the exact compass tattoo the woman described. He traces it lightly with his fingers. Ink on his own body that he didn’t recognize. “Bloody hell.” He says in realization.

“You really are my wife”

#captain swan fanfiction #off the deep end #cs movie marathon #CSMM20

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kmomof4 · 3 years ago

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This chapter was HEARTBREAKING!!!!!

But soooooo BREATHTAKINGLY GORGEOUS!!!

I CAN’T WAIT FOR MORE!!!

One Love, One Lifetime

A Phantom of the Opera inspired Captain Swan AU

Chapter 6: Music of the Night

AO3 Links: 1 Overture, 2 Think of Me, 3 Angel of Music, 4 Poor Fool, 5 All I Ask of You

Note: Again, some violent imagery in this chapter, though this time it is self-harm. Nothing lethal, but avoid paragraph 4 if reading about someone intentionally injuring themselves will cause you unease.

Summary: This time, we shift narrative perspective to follow the struggle for dominance between Killian and the Dark One. A glimpse into the world as seen from behind Dark Killian’s eyes.

He’d broken everything. The tenuous trust forming between them, the connection he’d felt when at long last he’d given in and allowed himself a moment’s pleasure at the brush of her lips–all of it discarded with the crumbling of that loathsome stagehand’s heart. Though the other fools who prowled the halls of his theatre might remain oblivious, he had no doubt Madame Lucas would make the connection. Given her maternal feelings toward Emma Nolan, the ballet instructor would undoubtedly caution the young woman against seeing him again.

Not that she would choose to see you anyway, a voice slithered through his mind, the unwelcome intrusion that had snaked its way back into his consciousness at the sight of the viscount down on one knee.

A murderer, chastised the voice. A jealous wretch who dwells underground, who hides from the light like the demon they all know you to be. What did you think would happen? That they would forgive your crimes? That she would stay with you in this bleak pit?

“She deserves more,” Killian mumbled, pacing the length of the cavernous space. “But he doesn’t deserve her. Now get out of my head.” Gritting his teeth, Killian hauled back, slamming his fist against the stone walls of the cavern again and again. His knuckles now bleeding, he carefully unfurled his fingers, throbbing echoing through his hand as he cataloged his injuries. Likely he’d fractured a knuckle on his middle finger, several lacerations from his rings cutting into his skin, inconsequential abrasions from the rough stone walls, but all of them might be worth it. Sometimes pain drove the darkness back to the inner recesses of his mind. A broken bone here or there often provided him a measure of freedom for a time.

Unfortunately, it did not appear to work this time. As the dust he’d kicked up drifted through the air, catching the soft firelight from the many candles whose warmth Killian sneered at, the oil-slick voice wormed its way through his consciousness. The poor misguided hero, it crooned. Locked away in a tomb of his own making, fighting against his very nature after his fall from grace.

Killian caught his reflection in one of the many mirrors meant to reflect and amplify light in this dank dwelling. His eyes were wild, his hair a chaotic tangle, and more than anything he resented seeing his own lips move as the other voice filled the chamber and his mind. What would dear Liam think? To see you now: thrumming with hatred, and pining for someone pure and true as the North Star? Though using the Dark One’s magic left no physical trace, Killian wiped his hand on his trousers and knelt by the underground lake, attempting in vain to wash both hand and hook of the violence he’d earlier committed. The cold water brought some numbing relief, but the unseen filth of his actions and loss of control remained.

Keep reading

#cs ff #csmm20 #one love one lifetime #karly tries to write #art by hollye

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allons-y-to-hogwarts-713 · 4 years ago

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Captain Swan Movie Marathon - CS Descendants AU

inspired by Disney’s Descendants for @captainswanmoviemarathon

They can try to deny our style But we were born this way 'Cause you can take the VK outta the Isle But you can't take the Isle out the VK

This is my third and final piece for CSMM2020. I tried to go for a little bit of a mashup of Auradon and the Isle.

Emma grew up on the Isle of the Lost, never knowing about her familial connection to the rulers of Auradon. Killian Jones is her best friend and brings out the pirate in her. When she discovers her royal ancestry, she’s forced to choose between the only home she’s ever known and her rightful place as heir to the throne, with Killian by her side no matter what, until she faces the real truth: that she belongs right in the middle, as both a royal and a VK.

#csmm20 #csmm2020 #captain swan movie marathon #captain swan #cs au #disney's descendants #descendants #descendants au #cs descendants au #cs aesthetics #cs aesthetic #disney #kayla's cs aesthetics #kayla's aesthetics

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teamhook · 3 years ago

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Swan on A Wire :: A Bird on A Wire CS AU

Hello!! I have been struggling with my other WIPs but I thought it would be a great idea to start a new one. I want to thank my lovely beta @ultraluckycatnd and my lovely enabler dream team @karlyfr13s @veryverynotgood @apiratewhopines @hookedonapirate @batana54 and all the lovely ladies on the CSMM Discord for their support.

I thought it would be good to dedicate @apiratewhopines this fic for her birthday because she has been such a fan of the story.

FFN//AO3

Swan On A Wire:

The bright yellow beetle sputtered as it chugged the last of the gas fumes. The poor old car was running on empty. She managed to pull to the side of the road as it rolled on the gravel in order to avoid traffic if she got stranded. The radio played a soft melody. The blonde's tears blurred her vision. She couldn't accept the proposal of her longtime boyfriend on the spot. He had been patient with her, almost saintly. He had been with her throughout her mourning. She had lost her first love and their friend at the same time. That is why she was driving her old car. One last trip down memory lane. He had told her he could no longer live in the shadow of her lost love. So he gently placed the engagement ring on her finger and said, "Emma, I love you, but you need to say goodbye to him. If you come back to me wearing this ring, I will know your choice. If not, I will still be in your corner as your friend." It was a small break in their relationship for her to decide if she could finally move on or stay living in the past.

She knew it was time, but it was so difficult to say goodbye. She decided a road trip on her own would be the final hurrah. Yes, she wanted to reminisce one last time about her time with her beloved before she finally moved on with her life and put him to rest.

The bug finally stopped and her head slowly slumped and hit the steering wheel. She took a breath and exited the vehicle. She looked around and saw no cars coming; that was both good and bad. No traffic meant no help, but she wasn't going to cause an accident. She took out her phone, no signal. That was priceless. She walked to her trunk and opened it to see if she could find an old map from their old trips. He had collected so many maps. He would smirk and ask her, "What kind of navigator would I be if I wasn't prepared?"

She opened the trunk only to notice all his maps were gone. She didn't throw them out. It must have been either MM or David. She did notice, however, a brand new gas container and a box. She swiveled the gas container and it had gas. She opened the box and it was a GPS system with a note. "Emma, since we didn't know what route you were going to take, we thought this would help in case of an emergency. Be careful, love MM and David.

She smiled and at the moment loved her friends' overprotectiveness. She poured the gas in the tank and turned on the GPS. She had enough gas to get her to the closest gas station.

She arrived at a small, full-service gas station. She noticed a man in the mechanic shop. "Excuse me, sir?"

The man stopped working on the car and paused for a second, cleared his throat, grabbed an old worn-out cap from the table, and put it on. He slowly turned to face her with half his face covered from the cap and oil smudges.

With a lousy country accent, he muttered, "Ma'am?"

"I need to fill the tank; do I do that myself or will you? The sign says full service." She didn't want to upset anyone who was just doing their job. She looked at him and there was a familiarity. Her heart started beating faster. Familiar bright blue eyes. She looked at the dirty mechanic uniform for a nametag.

He noticed she was observing him. "I'll take care of it. Miss, you should get in your car."

He walked around her towards the car. His smile was completely missed by her. He pulled out the gas pump and went to fill the car.

She walked to the car, her heart pounding so fast.

He moved fast once the car tank was full. He washed the windows and once he reached the driver's window, he casually covered his lips with his elbow as he leaned on the car. "Your total is $23.32."

She smiled and handed him the money. "Thanks, Killian." She waited for his reaction.

He froze for a mere moment. "Ma'am, I'm sorry you've confused me with someone else. My name is James Rogers."

She stared at him and nodded. "I'm sorry, you just reminded me of someone I knew a long time ago."

He nodded and looked down at her left hand and noticed a big diamond. His heart dropped to his stomach. "No problem, good day Miss."

He turned and walked back to the mechanic shop. He closed the door and put the closed sign up.

Emma looked at the time. She was going to need to find a hotel. She put the car in drive and couldn't help but look in the rearview mirror.

Inside the mechanic shop, Rogers peeked out the window. "Bloody hell." He took out his phone and speed-dialed #1. "Keith, I need to be relocated. Again."

"What happened?"

"My ex somehow ended up at the gas station. She recognized me. I tried to convince her otherwise, but she is a stubborn lass."

As his conversation continued with his handler, Killian was running around grabbing essentials. He had his ever-handy backpack ready to go. Gods, he'd had to move so many times for different reasons.

Keith said, "I'm sending someone in the area to pick you up."

Killian couldn't believe his luck. He really liked the job and his boss the old man had been too nice to a scoundrel like him. He scribbled a brief thank you to the man.

Emma had driven away from the gas station unsure of what the hell just happened. She was sure it was Killian; his voice, she could never forget his voice. Emma arrived at her hotel dazed. Her heart was beating so fast. She was in danger of having a heart attack. She couldn't get the gas attendant out of her mind. He said his name was Rogers but in her gut, she knew it was her Killian. She needed answers. He left her behind after promising he would never leave her. Had he been in that town all this time? Did he know about Liam?

She parked outside her hotel and didn't get out. Instead, she made her way back to the gas station. It was too much. Her heart knew it was him. It didn't matter if he lied, he was not James Rogers, he was Killian. Because when you love someone, you just know and her heart was sure it was him. She needed to know why she had to grieve for him if he was obviously very much alive.

She drove back to the gas station, hoping he was still there. The street was dark. She parked her bug across the street waiting. She felt like a stalker. Was she one? If this man wasn't Killian she was going to be so embarrassed, but even the timbre in his voice was the same. The accent wasn't the right one but it sounded fake to her ears. She still had one last resort; he would have to show her he didn't have a swan tattoo covering his heart like a shield. She would not leave until he would let her see if he had it or not.

She was about to get out of the car but noticed the lights were off and the small building looked abandoned. She noticed a black SUV slowing down in front of the garage door.

::24 Hours Earlier::

The prison gate opened and a man emerged dressed in a leather jacket and faded jeans, quickly approaching the parked black vintage 77 Trans-am. He opened the door and sat down, turning his attention to the man in the driver's seat.

"No luggage?" the man raised a brow.

"Teach, shut up and drive."

"My, my, prison certainly rid you of your sense of humor," he said as he put the vehicle in drive and peeled off.

The ride was silent for miles.

"Did you find him?"

Teach kept his eyes on the road. "Silver, not yet but we will. My contact will let me know the moment he surfaces and when he does, we will finish this."

"He has to pay for putting me in that place. They fed us bologna sandwiches. That is disgusting!" Silver growled.

Teach couldn't help the snicker that left his lips. "We will do it ourselves."

Keith Nottingham sighed in defeat. His past had caught up with him days ago. He received a call giving him instructions to erase a witness; if not, his tainted past would surface. He would lose everything.

He cursed himself and did the only thing that ensured his survival and made the call after Jones reached out to him for relocation. The line rang once.

"Teach, I got him. He is working at a mechanic shop in a small town, and now we're done!" Keith growled. The line went dead after giving the location details.

If his old partner knew what he had just done, he would be disappointed in him. Nemo always saw the best in people. No one could ever know how low he had fallen, both in his past and just now. He had no choice.

Killian had been anxiously waiting for his contact for relocation to arrive. He liked the job and had worked out an agreement with his boss to stay in the small room above the garage. His boss occasionally stayed in the other bunk when they had a big workload. He couldn't risk Emma getting caught in the middle of the mess his life had become. Even after all the years that had passed, he still knew her, and she was still a stubborn lass that wouldn't give up easily. He was about to turn in for the night when he looked out the window and noticed a black SUV approaching the gas pumps.

Two men dressed in black got out and approached the door. Killian could see they were wearing suits as most agents did, but couldn't see their faces.

Killian opened the door wide enough to speak to the men. "I'm sorry, but the pumps are closed. They won't be running until early tomorrow."

"Interesting accent you got there," Silver said lowly.

Killian recognized the voice that ruined his life. He looked past behind the man to find his cohort glaring back at him.

Silver pulled out his gun and aimed it at Killian. "Any last words?"

Across the street, Emma had been watching the scene. Once she saw the gun aimed towards the man she believed to be her Killian, she reacted quickly. She did the first thing that came to her mind and pressed the horn until the men turned their attention her way before she sped away.

Killian made his move then; he ran inside the garage and slammed the door shut. He was frantic as he ran looking for his bag, but there was no time. He made his way to the back door. The narrow alley behind the shop was his best shot at escaping.

The dimmed alleyway clattered with discarded automobile parts. Killian cursed; he was supposed to clear that out, and now he was fighting to stay upright. He couldn't afford to trip and get caught.

He cleared the alley and reached the side street. He ran into the road, only to almost be run over by the yellow monstrosity Emma drove.

Emma slammed the brakes and pulled over. She stared at him through the window.

Killian winced as bullets missed him and hit the corner wall. He made his way to the car and tried to open the door as he felt a shot hit him in his butt.

"Emma, drive!" Killian groaned as he closed the door with a broken side mirror. He tried not to put his weight on his bum.

Emma hit the accelerator and they disappeared into the night.

@allons-y-to-hogwarts-713 @andiirivera @anothersworld @apiratewhopines @artistic-writer @batana54 @beckettj @bethacaciakay @bixisarusher @branlovestowrite @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 @queen-serena88 @resident-of-storybrooke @revanmeetra87 @rumdrum91 @sailtoafarawayland @sals86 @scientificapricot @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 @winterbythesea @xarandomdreamx @xemmaloveskillianx @xsajx @zaharadessert @myfearless-love @cosette141

#Captain Swan #cs ff #CSMM #Captain Swan Movie Marathon #CSMM20

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captainswanmoviemarathon · 3 years ago

Text

New chapter!! whoohoo!!

Feels Like Home

A/N: So a few things before you start this chapter: One is, though I decided I wasn't killing off any children in this story like the movie does, this fic still talks about child death and covers some uneasy topics. This chapter in particular gets very descriptive with the embalming process. It's not like the movie where Dan Aykroyd is seen with a scalpel in his hand and that's about all it shows.

I did a ton of research for this fic, and while I was researching, I stumbled upon the real life Vada Sultenfuss, Eileen Hollis, who was raised in a funeral home and has a TikTok account that revolves around her life as a funeral director. So I also watched some of her videos for reference. I tried to be as accurate as possible, but I'm not a mortician or funeral director, so my knowledge on this subject is limited. My husband used to transport dead bodies to funeral homes, but that was several years ago and at the time I really tried not to pay attention to a lot of the details.

Anyway, I got a little carried away with the details in this chapter, and I know it may not be everyone's cup of tea, but if I had to recommend skipping a section, it would be the first part of the chapter before the section break, where it switches to Emma's POV.

Thanks for reading and for all the support and feedback so far! 🥰 A shout out to @hollyethecurious for helping me brainstorm and for the name, Beatrice. I was trying to think of a good name for Killian and Milah's daughter, and she pointed out it could be a female spin on Bae. Also, a huge thank you to @ultraluckycatnd and @snowbellewells for beta reading! This title comes from the song by Chantal Kreviazuk—Feels Like Home. I was trying to think of a good title for this story, and I usually listen to songs or look at lyrics for inspiration, so when I listened to this song, it just immediately clicked, and I had to use this title. If you ask me, this song should be Emma's theme song; it just fits her so perfectly It's also fitting for this fic because funeral homes are normally associated with death and sadness and grief, but in this story, Emma quickly associates this particular funeral home with a new beginning and hope and friendship and eventually love and of course, home. Rated: Mature

Also available on: AO3 FF.N

Catch up: Ch 1

Chapter 2

FULL NAME: Marco Geppetto Booth

DATE OF DEATH: June 1st, 2021

CAUSE OF DEATH: Cancer of the prostate

Killian pulls on a paper gown, tying it around his waist before donning a face mask, goggles and a scrub cap. He snaps on a pair of gloves, his boots clunking across the floor as he approaches his newest guest, as he likes to call them.

“Hello, Mr. Booth. Not to worry, I’ll take excellent care of you.”

To Killian, the dead are to be treated just as well as they should’ve been treated when they were alive. He likes to treat his guests as if he were having them over for coffee or dinner—and yes, that means sometimes he talks to them.

“It’s a great day to build something,” Killian says as he begins washing Mr. Booth with a disinfectant solution. His woodshop teacher would start every class with that line. And just as carpentry is an art and skill, so is embalming the dead. Killian likes to think of each body he works on as his own personal canvas, and the viewing room is where he will eventually display his artwork.

Some people say it takes a certain kind of person to be an undertaker. It takes a certain type of person to look death in the face and not tear up, be weirded out or get emotional. But for Killian, death has been his life for as long as he can remember. And it’s not as if he doesn’t feel any type of remorse or emotion for his guests; he’s just gotten good at hiding it. He’s embalmed and prepared more bodies than he can remember, and after a while, they all started to blur together, so he’s gotten good at doing his job without letting his feelings get in the way.

The embalming process itself isn’t extremely complicated. That’s not to say it can’t be tedious or difficult or thankless at times, but there are very few steps when dealing with a relatively normal corpse, like the ones who’ve died of natural causes. Those are simple and routine, and he’s usually able to let everything else fade into the background while he works.

The only time he’s ever let his guard down while working on the deceased was when the body was of a young girl around his daughter’s age at the time. Sadly, he’s had to take care of babies and children who’ve died of some type of illness or medical condition or were involved in a car accident or had a fatal allergic reaction, but very, very rarely does he get a child who was a victim of murder. Those he never handles very well. This particular child had been assaulted and her body was littered with marks and bruises. He had broken down into tears and felt an unbearable amount of rage inside him—something he rarely feels. He almost couldn’t go through with the embalming, but he’d forced himself to for her parents’ sake, because they already had enough to deal with; they didn’t need him adding to their pain and suffering.

Killian had wanted to find the person who had done this atrocity and murder him with his bare hands. Thank the Gods above, Graham is fairly good at what he does and was able to track down the murderer and arrest him. The man received a life sentence and can never harm another child ever again. Though in Killian’s opinion, he deserves so much worse. Killian has never been a violent person, but when it comes to his own daughter, he would do unthinkable acts to anyone who dared to bring harm to her.

Luckily, the victim’s face had been untouched, and he was able to make her look as presentable as possible to her family and friends. It was bad enough the parents had lost their child, so to not have been able to see her one last time and say their final goodbyes would’ve been even more devastating for them. Wounds and autopsy scars from the neck down can be covered up by clothing, but facial injuries are more difficult to make palatable. If the corpse is too unsightly, he and Liam recommend a closed casket service.

After washing the body, Killian positions Marco’s arms across the man’s abdomen and massages the limbs to relieve rigor mortis, which makes the body less stiff. His entire job is to make his guests appear as lifelike and peaceful as possible to allow the family and friends to remember their loved ones as they were when they were alive. Killian didn’t know Mr. Booth very well, but he has a lot of fond memories of him as his teacher in woodshop class. And Killian went to school with Marco’s son, August, who was known as a troublemaker and never liked to show up to class. After he got his GED, he left his father to travel the world, only thinking of himself. He never even knew his father had cancer until Marco was on his deathbed. But thankfully, he returned to Storybrooke to see that his father had a proper funeral. Killian had received the phone call early this morning and retrieved the body from Storybrooke General Hospital. Liam had performed the intake paperwork and consulted with August about his wishes for his father.

Killian shaves the areas that will need an incision, inserts eye caps to keep the eyelids closed, stuffs the nose with cotton and wires Mr. Booth’s jaw shut. The man was extremely kind and pleasant and always had a friendly smile on his face, which is evident in the lines around his lips and eyes. Since there will be an open casket funeral, Killian consults the photo on his instrument table for reference and makes sure to arrange a pleasant and mild expression on Marco’s face, a small smile playing upon the dead man’s lips, which Killian glues shut. Mr. Booth now looks like he’s sleeping peacefully and hasn’t just died of prostate cancer.

It used to surprise him that the dead could appear so lifelike after an embalming. He’d forget he was in the presence of the dead until he touched their clammy, pallid skin. And after many years of being an undertaker, the line between the living and dead became blurred. If his father had taught him anything, it’s that the dead are just as important as the living. Brennan used to tell Killian how important it was to understand the person on the embalming table. To try and understand what they went through, even if they were a bad person when they were alive. Even the bad people had loved ones.

He admits his work is a little sloppier if his guest used to be a criminal, but he still treats them with respect and tries to understand why they did what they did. It’s more difficult to show compassion toward the grumpy town drunk who spent most of his life in jail and hating everyone than it is to show compassion toward a kind, elderly man who served his country, gave back to his community and worked hard his entire life. But every person has their own story, their own childhood and experiences that helped mold and shape them into the person they became. So the best way to show someone compassion is to first understand them.

Killian mixes chemicals in his embalming tank and makes an incision near Marco’s collarbone, allowing access to the carotid artery and the jugular vein. He inserts forceps into the jugular vein and injects the embalming fluid into the carotid artery through a tube connected to the tank, which pushes the formaldehyde through the arteries as blood is pushed out through the jugular vein. The lanolin base he’d added to the fluid will keep Marco’s skin moisturized and firm the tissue, replacing the ashen with a pink color for a more lifelike appearance. After the arteries are embalmed, next is the body cavity, where he inserts a trocar to drain the gas and excess fluids.

After he embalms and preserves a body, it’s also his job to wash and groom the hair and apply makeup, and he takes great pride in the work he does to prepare his guests for their final resting place. So when Liam not only mentioned hiring a beautician but also put an ad in the paper without discussing it with Killian, it was a blow to the gut. He doesn’t need anyone’s assistance to put makeup on a guest—never has; he’s perfectly capable of doing it himself.

But luckily, Liam had the ad pulled from the paper.

~*~

Emma’s eyes widen as she pulls up in front of the large Victorian home. She didn’t know what she was expecting exactly; she only spoke briefly with Mr. Jones over the phone to set up an interview when she saw the ad for the beautician job in the paper after deciding to stay in Storybrooke. She gave up her son ten years ago when she was in jail and homeless and definitely not ready or able to raise a child; but after Henry knocked on her door, she took him home.

She’d intended to leave after a not-so-pleasant meeting with Henry’s adoptive mother, but it seemed like Henry needed her, and she’s already turned her back on him once; she didn’t have the heart to do it again. So she let her landlord know, paid the rent and utilities she owed and quit her job. Problem is, she doesn’t have a place to park her camper. Before she came here, she was renting property in Boston so she could live legally in her camper. But now, she doesn’t have that luxury. And she can’t just get rid of it; this camper is the only thing Neal left her with and it’s the only home she’s had in a very long time. So once she finds a job, she’ll find an RV park to set up camp in while trying to find a more permanent place to live.

After one final check in the mirror, she fixes her hair for the millionth time and grabs her portfolio binder. She hops out of her camper and makes her way down the walkway, taking in her surroundings. It’s a beautiful house, but the sign inscribed with the name of the business, Jones’ Parlor, irks her a bit because it looks like a tombstone.

She doesn’t understand why the owner chose a tombstone for the sign of a hair salon, but right now, she can’t be picky. It’s a small town and there are not a lot of beautician jobs in Storybrooke. In fact, this was the only one that had an opening. She sashays up the sweeping porch steps and stands at the front door, taking a deep breath before ringing the doorbell.

The door cracks open a few seconds later, and Emma lowers her gaze, a young girl appearing in the doorway.

She’s probably the most beautiful young lady Emma’s ever seen before. She looks to be around her son’s age, maybe ten or eleven, and she has big, sparkling blue eyes and long, dark, shimmering hair.

Emma plasters on a big grin. “Hi. Is Mr. Jones here?”

The young girl nods, a small smile curving her lips as she steps back, opening the door to let Emma in. “Sure. Come on in.”

~*~

When Killian is finished with the surgical part of the embalming process, he sews up the incisions and holes he’d made. He’s almost done washing the body once more when he hears the door at the top of the stairs creak open.

“Papa, there’s someone here!” his daughter calls from the top of the stairs.

The embalming room is a sacred place, and Beatrice knows she’s not allowed in the basement while he’s working unless it’s an emergency. Even if she were allowed down here, the basement creeps her out anyway, especially when there’s a guest.

“Be right there, Birdie!” He dries the body with towels and discards his protective clothing before switching to his dress shoes and grabbing his suit jacket. He has no idea who could be at the door, most likely a client, but he always makes sure to look professional when people come over. He makes his way upstairs and follows the sound of his daughter’s voice, who’s talking about his former high school teacher’s prostate cancer, which she must have heard from Liam.

He pulls on his jacket and enters the arrangement room where his brother usually holds his conferences with the bereaved to discuss services and financial details. “How may I…” his words hang in the air when he looks up and sees a gorgeous woman standing up from the chair upon seeing him, “help you?” he finally finishes when finding the words again.

Bloody hell.

Long, golden blonde hair, glittering green eyes and glossy pink lips curved into a big, beaming smile, revealing her pearly whites. She’s all dolled up and wearing black, knee-high boots, a blue scarf around her neck and some kind of matching blue sweater dress with bell sleeves like she just stepped out of the seventies. But he’s not complaining.

“Hi, I’m Emma Swan.” When she shakes his hand, her grip is firm, her movements are assertive and she’s looking him directly in the eyes. She doesn’t seem the least bit disheartened, nor is she either crying or on the brink of tears like their usual clientele.

He’s still awestruck by how beautiful she is as he feels her warm palm in his, his heart speeding up a little. He breaks eye contact with her, hoping she can’t see how entranced he is, and that’s when he spots the swan pendant hanging from her neck, underneath her scarf. It matches her last name.

Emma Swan.

Wait. Why does her name sound so familiar?

“I’m…” Again he forgets how to speak, and when she releases his hand, he immediately feels the loss of her warmth.

“I know, you’re Mr. Jones.”

Before he can respond, his daughter chimes in. “Wait, you’re Henry’s mother?” she asks, coming up from behind Emma and standing next to him.

Ah, that’s where he’s heard that name.

Killian looks at his daughter. “Birdie, why don’t you go ride your bike or go up to your room while I chat with Miss Swan.”

“It’s fine,” Emma assures with a wave of her hand as she looks at Beatrice. “I am his mother. You know Henry?”

Beatrice nods. “He’s my friend.”

A crease appears on Emma’s forehead. “You’re Beatrice?”

“That’s right.” In the same second Beatrice’s eyes light up, her brows knit together. “How did you know?”

“Because he told me he only has one friend.”

Beatrice’s face clouds over with sadness. Killian knows more than anyone how much his daughter wishes Henry had more friends, but Henry mostly keeps to himself because kids at school never want to come over to his house since his mother is the mayor and very strict. Beatrice has always made friends easily, but her friends never want to come over because...well, because the thought of having a slumber party at a funeral home creeps them out. And Henry never minds coming over, nor does Beatrice mind going over to his place, so that, among other things, makes them good for each other.

Beatrice sticks her hand out to Emma. “It’s nice to meet you, Miss Swan.”

Emma beams as she shakes her hand. “Please, call me Emma. And it’s nice to meet you, too, Beatrice. Henry tells me you’re a good friend to him.”

His daughter grins from ear to ear. “He’s a good friend, too.”

Releasing her hand, Emma looks up at Killian. “You’ve raised a very nice young lady.”

Killian grins proudly as he looks at his daughter. “Thank you, I think so, too.” He bends down, dropping a kiss to the top of his daughter’s head.

She scowls at him. “Paa-paa, not in front of people.”

He chuckles and runs a hand through her hair as she wraps her arms around his waist and leans her head on his side. “Sorry, Birdie.” He looks up at Emma again, scratching behind his ear. “So, uh, what can I do for you, Miss Swan?”

Emma’s face falls, and she appears to be a bit offended. “Oh, uh, we spoke over the phone yesterday about the beautician job.”

He smiles and nods, about to respond, but then confusion crashes over him.

Beautician job?

His smile fades, his face paling. “Beautician job?” He remembers his brother mentioning something about a beautician job yesterday morning, but Liam told him he was pulling the job ad from the paper. Killian shakes his head. “Sorry, lass, you must’ve spoken with my brother. Liam Jones.”

Emma’s eyes widen at her mistake. “Oh. Sorry, I wasn’t aware there were two of you...I mean two Mr. Jones’.” She looks around, her brows furrowed. “So, is he here? I really need this job.”

Anger spirals through him at his brother’s insistence they need a beautician. Liam told him he was canceling the job opening, then went behind his back and scheduled an interview with Henry’s mum.

“He’s not here at the moment.”

Her face clouds over with disappointment, and to his surprise, it makes his heart clench. But why does he care if she’s disappointed? He’s perfectly capable of doing the hair and makeup of his guests.

Killian peers down at his daughter, who’s giving him that look she always gives him when she’s silently pleading with him with her big blue eyes. It gets him every time. He thinks about what Liam had told him, about taking some of the load off his shoulders, and he thinks about how much more time he could spend with his daughter if he didn’t have to work as much.

Emma shakes her head, her eyes full of apology. “I must’ve mixed up the times or dates or something. I’m sorry to have bothered you, Mr. Jones.” As she leaves the room, Beatrice lifts her brows and tilts her head toward the woman, silently coaxing him to stop her.

Killian drags a hand over his face, sighing deeply into his palm. He might regret this, but then again, maybe he won’t. Maybe Liam’s right. Maybe it’ll be handy to have her around. Killian hears the front door open and immediately drops his hand as he follows her. “Wait, lass...”

She stops and turns around, a bit of hope flaring in her eyes. “Yes?”

He slides his hands into his pockets. “I can interview you for the job...if you want.”

Emma’s eyes light up and a smile once again overtakes her beautiful face. “Really?”

He nods. “Aye, I’m working on a guest right now, but I have a few moments to spare. Liam must have forgotten to mention you were coming. My brother’s a bit of a git sometimes.” He regrets making that comment as soon as the words come out of his mouth, because he knows Beatrice will tell her uncle what he said. “He’d forget his own head if it weren’t attached,” Killian says, throwing Liam under the bus. He knows his brother set him up on purpose. Liam left, knowing Emma would be here because he wanted Killian to meet her himself. Liam knows she’s Henry’s mother and knows Killian doesn’t have the heart to turn her away. Or at least Liam thinks.

“Oh, thank you so much, Mr. Jones,” she exclaims appreciatively and shuts the door, walking over to him. She reaches into the large, pink binder in her hands and pulls out a resume, handing it to him. “I earned my cosmetology license from Paul Mitchell Schools and worked five years at the Viselli Salon in Boston.”

Killian scans the resume over, seeing the different places she’s worked at, but none of them includes working on the deceased. All of her clients had heartbeats. And this will be his reasoning when he tells Liam why he didn’t give her the job. “Uh, Miss Swan…” He lifts his eyes from her resume.

“Please, call me Emma. And don’t worry, I have a sunny disposition. I put people right at ease.”

Killian would’ve thought she was joking if not for how sincere she seems to be, which means only one thing—Liam failed to mention this was a funeral home. “With all due respect, Emma, the clients here are already at ease. This is not a beauty parlor. It’s a funeral parlor.”

Emma gapes at him in surprise. “They’re dead?”

“Aye.”

“Stiffs?”

His face sours at the flippant term. “Deceased.”

“The ad just said beautician.”

“As I said, my brother can be a git sometimes.”

“Well, I guess that explains the tombstone you have as a business sign. I thought it was a bit morbid for a hair salon.”

He shrugs. “That would be morbid, but luckily, this is a funeral home, not a hair salon.” He walks toward the door, pulling it open for her. “Sorry to have wasted your time.” And his. He’ll admit she’s beautiful and he can see she was right—she does have a sunny disposition—and he’ll hate to see her go, but his guests are his number one priority when it comes to his work. So, he can’t risk having someone who’s not qualified to do the job correctly. He can’t hire someone simply based on the fact he finds her unbelievably attractive.

“I don’t mind.”

Killian’s eyes snap to hers, his brow arching in surprise. “You still want it, even though...”

She waves a hand. “Yes, it’s fine. I’m okay with my clients not having a heartbeat. It may take some time to get used to it but—”

He lets out a silent sigh and shuts the door before turning around. Beatrice is now standing on the first step of the walnut staircase, leaning against the newel post of the balustrade, appearing to be intrigued by Miss Swan. It’s been a while since they’ve hired anyone, so having someone like her would be a refreshing change of pace.

Killian walks over to Emma, looking her dead in the eyes. “Listen, Miss Swan, applying makeup on a deceased person is much different than what you did at Viselli’s. This isn’t like glamorizing people before they go to a party; this is making a deceased person look like they did when they were alive so their loved ones can say their final goodbyes without having to see the reminders of what took them from this life. The cosmetics I use on the deceased aren’t the kinds you buy at Walgreens, which react to warm skin; they’re special cosmetics to make the faces look natural and lifelike and to cover up trauma like bruises, wounds or disfigurements. You’ll also be using wax, clay or plaster of Paris to reconstruct the faces when needed. And you’d be answering the phone.”

Emma doesn’t even flinch at his explanation. “No problem. I can handle all of that.”

He’s not convinced she realizes how different working on a dead person is compared to someone who’s alive, but he has a feeling she’ll find out very quickly and will most likely run out the door screaming. “Alright then, you can start right away.” He throws on a grin, hoping she’ll think twice about the job once she starts.

“You got it, Mr. Jones.”

“Call me, Killian.” Letting his eyes roam up and down her body, he wonders if she plans on dressing in attire similar to what she’s currently wearing to work every day. “Now uh,” he gestures at her clothing, “is this what you’d normally wear for work, or...?”

Her brows furrow as she glances down at herself and reverts her eyes to his, shrugging. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

“Nothing,” he replies quickly, clearing the frog from his throat. “You look uh…” he closes his mouth, thinking it’s probably not a good idea to tell his new employee how sexy she looks or how much he really likes her outfit. “It’s just uh…” He scratches behind his ear, failing to cobble together a sentence that won’t get him in trouble.

Meanwhile, she’s still staring at him in confusion, her brows furrowed. “Why does it matter how I dress? My clients won’t care what I’m wearing. They’re dead.”

“Yes, but…”

“Look, Killian, I promise I’ll take good care of these people. They deserve it. All they’ve got left is their looks.”

He glances at his daughter, who has both brows raised toward her forehead as she gives him one of her looks. One that says the lady’s not wrong about that.

“Alright, let me show you where you’ll be working.”

Emma grins as he hands her back the resume, and she tucks it inside her binder.

Killian leads her downstairs to the basement where he explains the entire embalming process so she has an understanding of what’s involved in preserving and preparing a body for a funeral.

He thought for sure by this point, she would run back upstairs and flee out of the funeral home, but she doesn’t seem at all off put or spooked by the dead body lying on the porcelain table in front of her. Instead, she casts her gaze over the lifeless corpse and seems intrigued by the entire process, asking lots of questions and greeting Marco like he’s alive and well. “Hello, Marco. Not to worry, I’ll be taking good care of you today,” she says, casting her gaze over his lifeless body. “So, this was your teacher?”

Killian nods. “Aye, he taught me how to make a birdfeeder. Which I still have, by the way.” He grabs two black bib aprons from the coat rack, handing her one. “Here, you’ll want this, so you don’t ruin your lovely dress.”

“Thanks.” She takes it with an appreciative smile and pulls it over her head, tying the strings around her and removing her scarf, which he takes and hangs on the coat rack as she pulls her hair into a ponytail. “And thank you for giving me this opportunity, Killian.”

He gives her a small smile, and after they wash their hands and pull on gloves, he moves Mr. Booth to the dressing table and grabs the suit August had brought for his father. He shows Emma the specific techniques he uses for dressing the body, since putting clothes on an ungiving corpse is a bit more challenging than applying makeup, and requires lifting and rolling the body from side to side.

When Killian’s finished dressing him, with Emma’s assistance, he smooths out Mr. Booth’s suit jacket and once again crosses the hands over the abdomen. He picks up Marco’s photo and hands it to her. “This is a recent picture of him. His son wants the beard kept the way it is because that’s how Marco always wore it.”

Emma nods in understanding as she studies the photo.

Killian gathers the cosmetics and supplies she’ll need from his drawers, setting everything up on the instrument table. “I’ll let you get to work.”

He sits off to the side and reads a book, observing her occasionally as she works carefully and meticulously, her features etched with concentration as she uses clippers on Marco's nails and then cleans up his brows with a pair of tweezers.

Killian can’t help but notice how high her cheekbones are, or how soft and smooth her skin looks; his fingers itch to stroke her face and feel her warmth underneath his fingertips, which is not a thought he should be having in the embalming room. Or about his employee.

He shakes away his musings and focuses on his book.

As though her client is alive, she explains the entire process to Marco and her reasons for using each product as she applies them, testing the makeup on her black-gloved hand before using it on Marco’s skin. “This will take away these pesky blemishes,” she tells him as she covers them with a concealer.

Killian has to admit, she’s much better at this than he originally thought she’d be. She treats Marco like he’s her grandfather, speaking to him with respect and compassion, probably just like she would speak to a client at Viselli’s. He also has to admit, he admires her for wanting to be in her son’s life. Moving to Storybrooke and finding a new job and a place to live must not be easy. She’s taking on a lot of new responsibilities all at once.

He’s still not entirely convinced he needs her help, but the woman has moxie; he’ll give her that.

After a while, Killian stands up and studies her work.

“I’ve added shadows to give him a more natural look,” she explains, using a brush to add some natural color to Mr. Booth’s eyelids.

He’s a bit surprised by her work. Not only does Marco look like he did when he was alive, but he looks better than he did, which is not always easy to accomplish on a dead person. “Impressive, love. For your first dead body,” he teases with a smirk. “You never forget your first.”

She waves a hand and smiles. “It was nothing. Dead people are actually much easier to work on than the living. They don’t move around or scratch their nose or ruin their makeup.” She lifts her eyes from the task at hand, her eyes dancing with curiosity. “When was your first time working on a body?”

“It was in my Gross Anatomy class at mortuary school. We learned about anatomy through a cadaver.” Killian smiles a little at the fond memories of that class. “I got to hold a brain in my hands.”

Emma’s eyes widen with fascination. “Really? What was it like? Was it weird?” she asks curiously. Most people get squicked out when Killian talks about his time in mortuary school. But not this woman, apparently.

“Aye, it was very weird…” he chuckles softly, “but also very cool to hold something that once held someone’s thoughts and memories.”

“What did it feel like in your hands?”

“It was kind of like holding Jell-O. Soft and squishy, and it was so fragile, I was afraid I’d drop it.”

“Wow.” She grins and reverts her attention to Marco. “I think I may have chosen the wrong profession.”

Killian arches a brow. “Why do you say that?”

She looks up at him in shock, as though not understanding why he would even have to ask. “Because...you got to hold an actual brain in your hands. The highlight of beauty school for me was switching from a mannequin to a real person.” She flourishes her hands, gesturing around the room. “Plus, you have the dream job. You get to talk to people without having them talk back or be rude or tell you how to do your job.”

Killian furrows his brows. “You think this is the dream job? For one thing, I’m always on call, Emma. Death never takes a break. I get calls at three in the morning and have to get up and drive across town to pick up a body. And my guests may not be able to tell me how to do my job, but their family tells me whether they think I did their dead loved one justice or not. If they hate the results, it only adds to their pain and suffering. It’s a lot of pressure. Not to mention, your worst day at work was probably when you had a rude client. My worst day was when I had to work on an eight-year-old girl who was murdered and sexually assaulted and was the exact same age as my daughter at the time,” he exclaims, his voice cracking and much louder and harsher than he intended. “I would’ve much rather have been yelled at by a fussy client that day, believe me.”

Emma’s eyes cloud over with sadness and regret. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean your job was glamorous, or easy...not at all.”

Killian squeezes his eyes shut briefly and lets out a deep sigh, lowering his voice as he speaks. “It’s just that, not everyone can do this job. Not everyone wants this job. But I do it for my guests. I do it to give them the treatment and respect they deserve after everything they’ve been through. I do it for their loved ones. And don’t get me wrong, I love my job most days, but other days...sometimes I’d rather be doing anything else.”

Emma nods in understanding. “I can imagine.” Silence fills the room as she applies blotting powder across Marco’s face and over his neck and hands, being careful not to get any makeup on his suit. After she’s done, she sets the brush down, admiring her work, thoughtful expression on her face. “Do you ever wonder if people look like this in the afterlife?”

He arches a brow at her as he goes around to the other side of the table and helps her gather the supplies. “Like what?”

“Like their best self?”

Killian furrows his brows in confusion. “You think this is Marco at his best? He died of prostate cancer.”

“Well, yes, but I mean their best self when they were alive and healthy, but without all their wrinkles and blemishes and flaws showing?”

“I don’t know. I try not to think about the afterlife,” he mutters glumly.

“But don’t you think the families do? Like where their loved one will go after they die? Do you realize how important your job is, Killian?”

“Of course I do...but in the end, the body is still just an empty shell. The soul is gone. The embalming process is only important for the bereaved because it helps give them closure.”

“But don’t you think it also gives them an image of what their loved one looks like enjoying their next journey?”

Killian thinks about it for a moment as they scrub the brushes and instruments. “I guess I never thought of it like that.” Not wanting to dwell on the subject, he explains to Emma how important it is to wash and disinfect every single instrument after each use on a corpse to prevent clostridium perfringens from being passed from one body to another. And how these bacteria can be harmless when ingested by a living person but will speed up decomposition in a dead person and cannot be stopped by formaldehyde. His explanation seems to be daunting to Emma, but as soon as he says clostridium perfringens also cause skin peeling, she immediately understands.

Once they’ve scrubbed the instruments and brushes, they let them soak in a strong disinfectant. After he removes his protective clothing and washes his hands, Emma does the same and takes her turn at the sink. As he dries his hands with a paper towel, he looks over, catching her glance at the wedding ring he still wears.

“Where’s Mrs. Jones?” she asks curiously.

Killian’s face saddens as he peels his eyes from Emma’s. He doesn’t reply with words, but his expression says it all.

Apology clouds over her face. “What happened, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Actually, yes, I do mind,” he answers sharply, not wishing to talk about it.

Emma looks down in shame. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” He throws the paper towel in the trash. “That’s enough for today. Come back tomorrow at 9 a.m. sharp.”

“I’ll be here.”

There’s an awkward silence in the room, and after Emma gathers her belongings, Killian follows her upstairs and escorts her to the door, opening it for her. “See you tomorrow morning.”

She nods, offering a faint smile. “Goodbye, Killian.”

After she leaves, he closes the door behind her and goes over to the window, peeling back the curtain. As he watches Emma get into her RV, he feels like a complete jackass for turning so cold on her when she asked about his wife. But he’s not used to working with people who are able to talk his ears off. He’s used to peace and quiet or sometimes music as he works. And after eleven years, he’s no longer used to people asking about his wife.

This is one of the many reasons he didn’t want to hire Emma, or anyone for that matter, in the first place.

The sound of someone padding down the steps breaks him from his reverie.

He turns around, seeing his daughter sashaying down the staircase.

She must sense the sadness in his eyes because concern clouds over her face. “What is it, Papa?”

“Nothing, Birdie.” He smiles and kisses her forehead when she reaches the bottom of the stairs. “Where’s your Uncle Liam?”

She shrugs. “Not sure. Why?”

“Because I’m going to murder him as soon as he gets home.”

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