#Killian's home is not the Jolly Roger anymore | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ohmightydevviepuu · 1 year ago

Text

imperfect boys. perfect ploys. (this is a song about tragedy) [6/6]

“My ‘story’ is that I left a fucked-up situation and it kind of fucked me up,” he’d said. But it was the way he’d said it, like it hadn’t broken him. Like it was just a fact. But Emma’s life was a story, too. A fucked-up situation that had kind of fucked her up. She wasn’t that kid anymore. Confidence could be learned. And maybe—maybe—she wasn’t broken, either. Not if she picked up the pieces. Not if she told herself a new story. About who she was. About what she wanted. Roots, family, friends, a sense of the familiar—these did not have to be fairy tales. “You owe it to yourself,” Mary Margaret said. “Happy endings always start with hope.”

–

S3 post-neverland canon divergence. 20k of no-curse renaissance.

read it on AO3

to @wistfulcynic and @thisonesatellite who sat with me while we daydreamed on a hilltop in cornwall on the summer-iest summer day england has ever seen. it took me eight months but i got there in the end.

thank you to @shireness-says for time and feedback and kindness to the IAS @spartanguard @optomisticgirl @idoltina @initiala @thejollyroger-writer @phiralovesloki for always giving me a cheer when i needed it

seventeen. 'and straight on 'til morning'

The girl, Wendy, insisted on helping Neal to gather Henry’s belongings and stayed at his side for the entire walk to the Jolly Roger. It was a race against a clock that was suddenly very real in this place where time did not exist, every second another precious tick against Henry’s life.

The boy looked very small in his father’s arms and smaller still once laid out on the deck to await the arrival of his mothers. The Lost Boys were settled against the bulkheads and Killian had sent David below deck to sort out cabins and sleeping arrangements for himself and his family.

Any moment, the women would return; the Jolly Roger awaited her departure.

That left Killian and Neal standing side-by-side at the helm for the first time since Bae had left. Neal’s fingers worried at the scratches in the wood. “You sailed her well when you took the Jolly Roger from me in New York,” Killian said.

“I learned from the best. Isn’t that what you would say?” Neal sighed. “How did we get here, Hook? How does this end?”

Killian glanced at Henry. “Emma swore she would bring back Henry’s heart. And I’m not sure any of those women know how to fail, especially her.”

“Yeah, she’s—” Neal sighed again. “She’s really something.”

“She’s a hero,” Killian said. “And an extraordinary woman. She will return, and we will sail home.”

“We, huh?” Neal’s eyebrow twitched. “What’s it feel like, to be one of the good guys?”

“Am I?”

“I don’t know, Hook. Are you? You know I need to do this. I need to fight for her. A man who refuses to fight for what he wants deserves what he gets.”

“Aye.” Killian pinched the bridge of his nose. “And Emma deserves someone who will fight for her.”

“So does that mean you’re gonna stand in my way?”

“I am in your way. You and I, we’ve gotten caught up in so much nonsense—over a woman. That’s not what I want for us. Or her. I won’t interfere in your fight, Neal. I will let Emma make her own decision, and I will respect it.”

Neal held out his hand. Killian took it. They shook.

And then they heard the commotion. Regina yelling at the top of her very commanding voice. “Henry!”

And Emma: “Henry? Where is he?”

“He’s over here!” Neal and Killian met the mothers at Henry’s side. David nearly tripped coming up the companionway.

All they could do was watch as Regina pushed her son’s heart back into his body. Watch, and wait. Killian’s own breath felt like a weight in his chest as he watched for the boy’s.

“Are we too late?” Emma whispered.

With a sickening cough, Henry came awake. His eyes opened and he tried to sit up—too quickly, which made him cough again.

“Whoa. Whoa, whoa—take it easy, buddy. Take a breath. We’re here. We’re all here.” Neal’s voice wavered as if he was holding back tears.

“I’m so sorry,” Henry said. “I just wanted to save the magic. I wanted to be a hero.” He looked at Emma. “Like you, mom.”

“It’s okay,” Emma said. “It’s okay, Henry.”

“There’s plenty of time for that.” David gripped him on the shoulder.

“Right now, it’s time to rest,” Snow White said.

Killian’s relief filled him. His smile hurt. “Welcome back, lad. Only the best for our guest of honor. Captain’s quarters, I think?”

“Come on. I’ll tuck you in.” Regina’s hand shook as she pulled Henry tightly against her and led him away.

Killian kept himself at the helm and away from the family dramas unfolding before him. The ship was ready; there was little for him to do but wait. And watch. The Lost Boys were scattered on the forecastle but the poop was cluttered with Emma and the Charmings and a box containing the Dark One.

Would that he would stay so contained.

But Neal appeared nervous--eager. Held the box tightly in his hand as he shuffled on his feet, preparing himself for the enormity of what he was about to do. Killian saw him dart a glance at Emma—stock-still, her expression etched in stone. Behind her the Charmings clutched at each other with the waterskin pressed between them and waited.

David turned, slightly, and caught Killian’s eye. Nodded. That was when Killian realized he was holding his breath and forced himself to expel it. Released his grip on the wheel.

With a twist of his wrist Neal opened the box and for an instant the very air stopped moving. The starlight dimmed. Everything seemed to vibrate and there, on the deck of the Jolly Roger, stood the Dark One; Killian hated how grateful he was for it.

Neal pulled his father into his arms and Emma seemed to collapse. Her shoulders sagged, her spine curved. Her mouth moved for several seconds with no sound before she said, “He’s back. That means—”

David could go home. They could all go home—Emma’s entire family.

Killian grinned. Emma Swan never failed.

The prince laughed. “He can cure me.”

Snow White was nearly sobbing. “We can go home?” Emma flinched when her mother grabbed her , frozen, before collapsing again—further—into the embrace. “A family.” David’s hand gently cradled the back of Emma’s head.

Regina emerged from the companionway and took in the group hug with a roll of her eyes. Emma extracted herself from her parents and looked at Killian—he tipped his head—then Neal, who straightened and removed the tied-up coconut from the strap of his cutlass.

“Can we get a move on?” Regina was as patient as ever. “You—get over here.” This was said to Neal.

“You think it will fly?” Emma said.

“It has no choice,” Regina said. Grim satisfaction tinged her words as she held herself ready for the spell. “Light it.”

Emma reached for the cannon fuse with her lighter—no magic—and Neal held the coconut steady.

“Now,” Regina commanded, and Neal obeyed; the Shadow was caught by the cannon and by the magic and trapped in the sail. The fabric changed from white to black and filled with invisible wind and momentum as the Shadow strained to move.

“Let’s get the hell out of Neverland,” Emma said.

“As you wish,” Killian said. “Prepare to weigh anchor!” The magic of the ship responded to his order and shifted immediately with a tilt skyward. Propelled by the Shadow, they were soon airborne. Airborne, and free.

David and Emma murmured to each other on the deck as Snow White dug into the remainder of their stores and began making a round of the Lost, offering them bits of food or sips of water. Wendy pulled her dressing-gown more tightly around herself and made her way toward Tink. When Bae—Neal joined them, the tiny girl wrapped herself around him. Regina stood amidships along the starboard side—alone—until Tinker Bell moved to stand beside her.

Killian watched them. He was alone at the helm and it stayed that way as, one by one, the assorted passengers of the Jolly Roger took themselves to the cabins assigned them by Prince Charming. The Lost huddled together on the fo’c’s’le, sleeping in stunned silence. The only sound aloft in the night air was the pleasing rush of fresh, cold wind as they sailed.

Emma was the last to take herself below. For a while she stood there, only moving to tuck her hair behind her ears. Over and again as the wind immediately whipped it into a tangle and she said nothing, did nothing, until finally she turned and looked up at him. Taking him in from his brows to his boots.

Killian watched her and felt the hunger rise up inside him. The need. The desire. It was unfamiliar and aching and it hit him with a force. They had retrieved the boy and his promise, if there was such a thing, was fulfilled. But with so much unresolved he held fast to what he had said to Neal—he would fight. And he would let Emma make her decision.

He might as well have spoken the words out loud—Emma blinked, and turned away. It was difficult not to take that as an answer but Killian turned his gaze skyward again as Emma made her way carefully through the companionway and down to the crew quarters.

Alone.

A shiver ran through him, right through the edge of his coat; it was a shock to feel the weather again. A sign of his exhaustion, no doubt. It was past time for sleeping. Even Neal was sprawled on the deck, in between Tinker Bell and Wendy. Killian locked the wheel on its course and left the magic to guide them through to the morning. They’d nearly be home by then.

Home? Killian chuckled unkindly to himself. The Jolly Roger was his home, hell or high water. He stifled a yawn and headed toward the cabin Dave had set aside for him—stopping at his usual quarters to check in on Henry, pleasantly surprised when Regina tolerated his intrusion. Her hand was wrapped around her son’s as she mouthed the words to a story.

He hesitated outside the cabin assigned to Emma, his hook poised to knock on the door, but it was dead quiet and she hadn’t slept, either. Killian took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose and took himself to his cabin.

Emma Swan was sitting in the candlelight—waiting—though she stood immediately when he entered. He opened his mouth but no words came out. He couldn’t even breathe.

She grabbed him. She kissed him. Again, again—all he could taste was her—until he was gasping for air, desperate, unmade. She flicked her wrist, and the door slammed shut behind him.

For one shining second everything snapped into focus.

Like magic.

She could feel it. Every nerve in her body was alive. Dancing. On fire. Everywhere they touched hummed with power. Emma wanted to laugh. To scream. To cry.

“I’m sorry,” he said suddenly, pulling away.

“Wait, what?” What was he apologizing for? She’d kissed him. She’d wanted to. God, she’d wanted to. She just hadn’t wanted to let herself. There had been too much on the line.

And Henry.

But they were on their way home. Together. A family. And Henry was fine. Alive, and whole. Just like he’d said. They hadn’t failed.

They’d been a team.

“Hook? Killian?”

He smiled—sort of. His mouth moved, half-up at one corner. It did not reach his eyes. “I want this. I want you,” he said. “When you say my name—I want to make you scream it.”

“And I’m here to take you up on that,” Emma said, but she stepped back, too. She wasn’t going to beg. She wasn’t going to—

His grip on her wrist was soft, and sure, and gentle. It centered her. When was the last time someone had touched her like that? So easily? With such care? When was the last time she’d let them?

“Emma.” It was a whisper. It was a caress. His thumb slipped under the cords of leather wrapped around her wrist—right at her pulse point—she felt it everywhere. Everywhere. “My foolishness almost got us killed in the Dark Hollow,” he said. “I don’t make a habit of this. I apologize, unreservedly. My behavior with Neal was inexcusable.”

“Me and Neal—we’re not—”

“I know,” he said. She liked the way he said it. Like it was just that simple. She also liked that he did not let go her wrist as he spoke. “And that is not the kind of man I want to be. But it was nonetheless an uncomfortable reminder.”

“Of what?”

His hand moved. His thumb played with the ring on his first finger. “Villains don’t get happy endings. And I have been—I am—a villain. Seeing you two together so soon after what we had shared—”

“It was just a kiss,” she said. A lie, and he knew it. He knew it as well and as easily as she knew that he spoke nothing but the truth. “Killian—” his hand stilled “—we wouldn’t be here now without you. My father is alive because of you. We saved Henry because you helped.”

He blushed, and looked away.

“Thank you, Killian. For coming back.”

“It was the right thing to do.” He shifted. “I just wish I had done it sooner. I’m sorry.”

Emma leaned forward, slowly. Forced him to look her in the eye. “Trust me, you have a mark in the hero column.” And then she kissed him. Again.

Slowly.

Savoring it.

She wrapped her hand around the back of his neck and pulled herself closer. Teased her tongue against his lips. The sound he made was pure pleasure and he moved, his fingers threading through her hair. Brushing against her cheek as one kiss became two. Then three. She stepped back, slightly, and smiled. Killian’s fingers moved to trace her lips and he leaned forward, fusing their mouths together.

One kiss. Another. Three.

Then the kiss changed and she stopped counting. His tongue slid into her mouth. Greedy. Heated. His arms wrapped around her and she felt protected—precious—safe—as his mouth wandered, kissing a path across her jaw and down her neck. Emma exhaled a noise that might have been his name. The cool metal of his hook played at the hem of her top and his hand fingered the edge of her bra, pulling at the strap. “May I remove this?”

Always a gentleman.

Emma unclasped it and tossed it aside, along with her top. She watched him as he removed his coat and then it was her turn, her fingers working at the buttons of his vest and the laces of his shirt. His eyes trailed every movement with searing intensity and then he lifted her. “I would like to take you to bed.”

“And I would like to hear you scream,” she said, wrapping her legs around his waist.

“As you wish.”

Sated. Spent. Fucking exhausted. Emma cocooned herself in the blanket; nestled more deeply into the pillow. “My parents want me to get back together with Neal,” she said.

His fingers, idly tracing patterns on her back, froze.

“They didn’t even ask me,” she said. “They just assumed. True Love. Yadda yadda.”

“I see.” She reached for him but he twisted away from her, maneuvering himself until he was sitting up, his feet squarely on the floor, his back to her—inked and muscled, and twitching when she ran her finger up his spine.

“Killian?”

He shivered when she said his name but his words, when he spoke, were strained. Almost formal. “A one-time thing. I quite understand.”

“No. No, Killian, that’s not—” Emma sat up, pulling the blanket with her. He was so beautiful and had a confidence in his body and his nakedness that she was not feeling. Not when he said that. “That’s not what I want.”

“Are you sure?”

“About Neal?” She shrugged. “Yes. He broke my heart.”

Killian gave a hoarse chuckle. He smoothed his hand down his face. He did not look at her. “He did.”

“Neal left. My parents left. Graham—” she caught her breath. “Everyone I’ve ever cared about.”

“Me.”

She nodded. Took a deep breath and moved. Touched him. Let her hands roam and feel the warmth of his skin and the tension beneath. Turned him to face her and dropped her head to his shoulder. “I left you first,” she said. “That’s what I do. That’s what Neal taught me. I don’t want to go back to that. I want to be a part of something. Aside from Henry, I don’t think I ever have.”

“But you could.” His arm came around her. She reached up and threaded her fingers through his. “Is that what you want? Or is that what you are afraid of?”

“Both,” she said.

“I would follow you to the end of the world, love. And back again. Which are you asking of me?”

“I’m asking you to stay,” Emma said. Her body hummed as she said it— focused. Powerful. “I want to try something new. You’re not a villain, Killian. You’re not a monster. Your happy ending—”

Killian smiled. A breathtaking, beautiful, hopeful smile. “It’s you,” he said. “Don’t you know, Emma? It’s you.”

Every candle in the cabin flared. He laughed. His arm hooked around her waist and in less than a second he had her on her back, crowding her, his nose and his face buried against her neck until his breath tickled. His hand went to her breasts and when she reached for him, his hook caught her wrists and brought her hands above her head. His fingers danced along her stomach, her muscles tense. Killian’s forehead pressed against hers, his eyes lit up in the night as she shivered and shook under his slow, gentle caress—as his touch slipped between her legs—as he kissed her, teasing—“Please,” she gasped.

It was the ‘please’ that did it. His fingers twisted and the world around her went white; she came down slowly, letting herself melt into the bed. His arms. She was in a haze, in a place between sleeping and awake. She felt like she could say anything and be understood.

It was an entirely new feeling.

She liked it.

“I don’t want to tell my parents,” she said. “My father and mo—Mary Margaret. About this. About us.”

“You needn’t protect me from your father, love,” he said, amused. “He’s made his opinions clear. Called me names. Meant a lot of them, I think. But Dave and I, we’ve arrived at an understanding. I’m more worried about Snow White. She’s a fair hand with that bow.”

“I don’t need their permission. Neither do you.”

“You’re angry with them,” he said. “Aye, you’ve a right to be.”

Emma shifted to face him head-on, resting herself on his chest. Inked—like his back—muscled, strong. Her hands made a pillow and she set her chin down; their eyes met. “I’m tired,” she said.

“Aye,” he said, slowly. “You’ve a right to be.”

“I’m so tired, Killian. And if I tell them then they’re just gonna try to convince me how much they know better. I don’t want to fight or explain. I just want them to understand. Just once.” Emma laid her head down on her hand-pillow and listened to his heartbeat. Closed her eyes.

“You have a plan,” he said.

“Maybe,” she murmured. She was so drowsy. So comfortable. “Maybe I do. Will you trust me?”

“Yes.”

One eye opened. “Just like that?”

“Just like that.” Killian leaned forward and kissed her forehead. Her cheek. The corner of her mouth. “It will be daylight soon. We’re nearly home.” His hand smoothed her hair as he slid out from underneath her.

She was asleep before he was gone, the word ringing in her dreams.

Home.

eighteen. 'happily ever after'

Mrs. Lucas greeted him with a very particular—knowing—look as he walked into the diner, the bell over the door heralding his arrival just a few minutes after the device in his pocket had made a noise. A text: They know. Granny’s.

Eloquent, Emma Swan was not.

He’d replaced the device—the phone—in his pocket and hurried, though he affected nonchalance as he pushed the door open. Mrs. Lucas was not fooled. Her face lit up in what could only be described as glee. “Leroy owes me ten bucks,” she said. “How did you pull it off?”

Killian carefully settled himself on a barstool before he leaned forward, beckoning her with a finger. Raising his eyebrows. Making a show of looking around before he answered. “Magic,” he whispered.

“Is that what we’re calling it?” Her laugh was short and sharp, like a bark.

“Now, Mrs. Lucas”—Killian raised his eyebrow dramatically—“would I lie to you?”

She snorted and turned away, leaving a pint of beer in front of him. Killian twisted on his stool and watched her in the corner. Watched them, for Emma and her mother huddled close together over their table.

But he hadn’t told her a lie.

That first night in Storybrooke, as he’d sat in his quarters contemplating the bunk that felt too soft and too large and the night air that felt too cool and too still and too quiet, she’d appeared. A shift in the air, and a puff of white smoke; he’d been sure he was dreaming. In her hand, there was a small object. A black rectangle of some hard material that folded over. “I can’t stay,” Emma said. “But—it was too quiet at home. And I brought you something. It’s a telephone—”

“A talking device,” he said. He’d recognized the Greek even when he hadn’t known the word. Astonishing what one learned in the Royal Navy, and how it carried over even into this realm. “The mermaids have a magic like this.”

“This way we can talk. Or text. And no one will know but us.”

“How romantic,” he deadpanned. But her fingers curled in his as he spoke, twined together.

“I’m going to lunch with Neal tomorrow,” Emma said. “Tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after, until they see what I see. What I know. And then maybe—” she stopped. “What are you going to do?”

“I have some ideas.” He pulled her into his arms. Into his bed. Felt her rands roam as she traced his tattoos with her fingers and then her lips and her tongue until he shivered. Screamed.

And so did she.

She slipped from the sheets, quietly, and stood. “I can’t stay,” she said again.

“I understand,” he’d said. Because he did. “I’ll see you tomorrow, love.”

“So we’re going to do this?” And the unspoken question—you’re going to stay?

Killian nodded, answering both. “Your father’s been waiting for me to rob him since the moment we met. I would hate to be a disappointment.”

She’d appeared that first night and every night since; he almost wished that time were stopped again just so he could live in those moments forever. Here and now, David stood next to him--also watching, also quiet.

In the corner, Snow White started crying. So did Emma. Happy tears, Killian thought—Snow was smiling, holding Emma’s hand—Emma’s shoulders were relaxed and open as she leaned closer.

Killian smiled, too. He heard David’s sigh of relief. Saw his smile when their eyes met. “Take care of her, brother,” the prince said.

“She can take care of herself,” Killian said.

“Better than anyone,” David agreed. “But something tells me she’ll be busy watching out for you.”

“She would, wouldn’t she?”

“Just like her mother,” David said. He clapped his hand on Killian’s shoulder. Gave a squeeze, walked to the table in the corner.

“Another one, if you please, Mrs. Lucas,” Killian said, running his hand through his hair. The bell over the door rang, and Killian glanced over his shoulder. “Make it two.”

He slid the second pint over just as Neal sat on the stool next to his.

“I’m sorry,” Killian said.

Neal took a long, slow sip. He said, “I don’t need an apology, Killian. “And you don’t need my permission.”

“Not about that,” Killian said. “I’m sorry, Bae, for the ugliness that passed between us. If I could do it again, I wouldn’t.”

“Neither would I,” Neal said. “But then we wouldn’t be here. With her.”

“She loves you,” Killian said.

“I love her,” Neal said. “I probably always will. She’s my family.”

“Aye,” Killian said. “She is. And your boy.”

Neal surprised him, then. He turned on his stool and offered his glass in a toast. “And you,” he said.

“To family,” Killian said. He clinked their glasses together.

“To family, and home.”

#cs fic #canon divergence #season 3a #no curse renaissance #happily ever after

9 notes · View notes

henrydanilmills · 1 month ago

Text

Killian sighed as he walked out of the house that he shared with Emma Swan on the hill in Storybrooke. He pinched the bridge of his nose and then looked up at his home. Killian and Henry had made plans to get the house on the hill for Emma so that Killian could have a life with her. Killian sighed again as he stared down at the ground at the memory. Henry was there for him because Killian was there for the boy. But he wasn't there for his own son.

Regrets, guilt. That's all Killian ever feels when he looks at Dante. Killian had finally convinced Dante to come back to Storybrooke with him and the group after they rescued Henry from Peter Pan's clutches. But Dante was reluctant to come back, and Killian knew why. Dante still resented Killian for abandoning him years ago when he needed his father. But Killian understood that and knew where Dante was coming from. Killian had resented his father, Brennan Jones, years ago for abandoning him and his siblings when he was young.

Killian walked towards the house and opened the door once he reached it. "Dante, let's go." He called inside. "Just a minute!" Killian heard Dante call back. When he heard it, Killian crossed his arms in front of his chest and waited by the front door. Today, Killian wanted to teach Dante about the Jolly Roger. But also an excuse to bond with his son and hope to make up for lost moments. Dante walked out when he was ready. Killian smiled at him. "You ready?" He asked. Dante glared at his father. Killian smiled sadly and stared down at the ground as he started to walk. He knew it would be difficult to approach his son, but he didn't think it would be this difficult. Dante followed his pace next to him, staring down at the ground.

Occasionally, Dante would steal glances over at his father. Killian chuckled softly to himself, knowing about the occasional glimpses from Dante. Suddenly, Dante stopped walking and just stood there. Realizing Dante had stopped, Killian stopped and turned around to look over at his son. "What's wrong, Dante? I thought we would have a lesson about the Jolly Roger." Killian asked. Dante gritted his teeth and tightened both of his hands into fists. "You can cut the act, you know?" The boy asked. Killian tilted his head and looked confused, taken aback by his son's behavior. "You can cut the act, I said," Dante repeated. "I know how you really are because I'm nothing to you!" The young boy snarled. "What? Where is this coming from?" Killian asked, his heart feeling like a spear piercing his chest. His own flesh and blood who hated him. "I'm nothing to you because I was invisible when I needed you!" Said Dante, tears welling up in his eyes. "So, do you think of her when you look at me?" He asked.

Killian frowned as he looked back at his son. "Dante, I --" He begins. But Dante cut Killian off before he could finish. "Just answer the question, Papa." The young boy commanded. Killian sighed and slowly nodded his head, tears welling up in his eyes. "Yes, I do. And it hurts even more because I abandoned you. I wasn't there for you. And I'm truly sorry." Killian put his hand over his face and started sobbing. Remember the feeling of helplessness as Rumplestilskin had a blade to Milah's throat and how it felt when his heart broke after the beast killed Milah in front of him. It was too late by the time Killian had heard the little feet running away. Dante had seen Rumplestilskin kill his mother.

Killian slowly lowered himself to the ground and sat down. The weight of the memory and the emotion that came with it was too great. It was becoming difficult to stand because he couldn't feel his legs anymore. They had become numb. Seeing his father admitting his true feelings, the tears rolled down Dante's cheeks. It had been so long since he had witnessed his own mother's death. And he had never known how his father felt about him because Killian took off with plans of revenge the next day after Milah died. The boy walked towards his father and knelt down next to him. Dante put a hand on Killian's shoulder, still not knowing how to show affection to the people he cared about since he grew up with the Lost Boys.

With Dante trying to reassure him, it was like a band-aid to a wound. Killian stopped sobbing and slowly put his hand off his face to look over at his son. "Let's go to the Jolly Roger, Papa." Said Dante. A smile slowly creeps upon Killian's face. He nodded. "Sure." Said Killian. Dante stood up and helped Killian up. The smile started growing wider on Killian's face. The father and son duo started walking towards Storybrooke dock. The morning sun shone down; Killian tilted his head to soak in the warmth. The beginning of reconciliation and a better father-and-son relationship.

#drabbles #writing samples #this was my drabble from roleplayer #I used to write as killian #this was when I wrote with an oc #this was a drabble so I wasn't godmodding #I wrote this back in 2021 or 2022 #this was a drabble writing from a prompt #I apologize

1 note · View note

laschatzi · 4 years ago

Text

What His Captain Needs

This is an idea brought to you by the fabulous @thesschesthair who wants to see more of Killian/Smee interactions. So, we decided to fill in a few blanks with little missing scenes between them, and we’ll loosely post them. This one’s written by me, as well as It’s Forever. Be sure to check out @thesschesthair‘s fabulous Killian/Smee take Who Is She?

summary: Set in 3x17. After his unsatisfying talk with Killian, Smee watches his Captain from afar talk to Emma Swan and her son. And suddenly he understands a few things.

word count: ~ 970

rating: G

also on: ao3 and ff.net

----------------------------------

"Sir."

The sturdy man inclines his head in a mix of a nod and a respectful bow and turns away without another word. In the many, many endless years he's spent serving his Captain he's learned when it's advisable to back down and be silent, but that doesn't mean he can't be annoyed with him. And William Smee is pretty annoyed with his Captain right now.

My reasons are my own, question them again at your peril.

It's not the harsh words or the gruff tone, he has heard far worse over the years – it's the message that angers him. Yes, he's the Captain, and of course it's his ship and his call, but Smee has been a loyal subordinate and First Mate to Captain Hook for almost three centuries, has seen him become Captain Hook, and by God, it hasn't always been easy – and he bloody well deserves a little more honesty, doesn't he? Instead, the Captain prefers to keep him in the dark about everything: what happened in the missing year he has no memory of, and what happened to the ship that has been a home to him for the last three hundred years - what his plans are for the crew, the future.

Smee stops and turns around to look back.

The Captain isn’t standing there by himself anymore, brooding and staring into the distance of the ocean, but the blonde woman has approached him, Emma Swan, the Savior. Smee notices her lad waiting a few feet away, absorbed in something he does with one of those modern contraptions. This is the boy, he recalls, the Captain went to rescue to godforsaken Neverland of all places – the accursed island they’d spent decades desperately trying to get away from. He still can’t wrap his mind around the fact that the Captain willingly maneuvered himself within the reach of the blasted child demon again, for the sake of a boy he had no connection to.

Curiously, he watches the interaction between the Captain and Emma Swan; he's too far away to hear what is spoken, but that's not even necessary. His mouth pulls into an involuntary little grin when he sees him utilize the whole arsenal he’s witnessed so often – the smirk, the smolder, the whole body language that suggests intimacy; alas, this time, it doesn’t seem to work on the lady: she seems bored at worst, sober and unimpressed at best.

The Captain immediately drops the dallying and gets all serious, obviously he's really listening to what she's saying. Smee narrows his eyes, trying to make sure they don't deceive him – he's never seen him like this. Oh, the Captain has always been a ladies' man for sure, and not for no reason, as far as he can judge; he always treated women well – looked at them like he was really seeing them – but he never showed them anything but the Captain. His expression right now is unlike anything Smee has ever seen on that handsome face: it’s soft, and sad, and vulnerable.

Now he has always been a good Captain looking out for his crew – strict, yes, and even severe whenever his orders weren’t obeyed, but mostly fair, and never unnecessarily cruel. He’d taken him in and given him a place in his crew when he could easily have made him walk the plank – God knew he was in a dark enough mood right after giving the body of his former love to the sea. But Smee became a respected member of the crew, and after the Captain had satisfied himself of the former trader’s loyalty and clever resourcefulness, he’d even made him his trusted First Mate. But even though Smee likes to think that over the decades, their companionship has evolved into one that comes very close to a friendship, he has never really seen a display of kindness, even if he always suspected the Captain has some of that in him. One could always read his mood on his face – sometimes a booming joviality, often grim determination or anger – but he’d always been very careful not to show emotions like hurt or sadness, even if Smee was sure they haunted him many a night.

He scrutinizes his Captain’s face again from afar, feeling almost guilty doing so, like an intruder, and it’s like he’s looking at a man he never met before.

Emma Swan has beckoned her lad nearer and talks to him, motioning to the Captain who smiles at him and puts his hand on the boy's shoulder. After a brief nod, she turns around and walks away, leaving the man and the boy at the mole. Smee watches the Captain's gaze follow her – blue eyes full of pain and... longing.

And suddenly he knows. The Jolly Roger isn't here, but whatever happened to the ship isn't important anymore, not to the Captain. This ship, any ship, isn't what he wants. Even if – at least right now – it brings him pain and sadness and makes him vulnerable, it also makes him look alive, somehow. Like he's found something he's been missing forever. Something worth fighting for. And this is why he's staying here: Emma Swan and her fight against that witch. But mostly Emma Swan. Of course he wants to keep that reason to himself – pirate captains live on their reputation, and they can't have anyone blabbing around that they've gone soft… but Smee has no intention to. He likes that expression on him.

Now, even without a ship – he is still a First Mate, and the man over there is his Captain. And it's a good First Mate's duty to help with whatever it is that his Captain needs.

William Smee nods to himself. That's exactly what he's going to do.

#cs ff #cs #captain swan #killian jones #killian jones ff #what his captain needs #killian x smee #william smee #mr. smee

85 notes · View notes

jrob64 · 4 years ago

Text

Self-promo Sunday Reception Redos and Jellymoons - Chapter 3

Here is chapter 3/5 of the story I wrote in 2019. This chapter is nothing but sweetness and fluff, and you still won’t find out where they’re going on their ‘Jellymoon’, so hang in there until next week!

I’ve posted Chapter 1 & Chapter 2 on Tumblr.

The entire story is posted on Ao3 & ffn.

Thanks to those of you who sent caring thoughts and prayers for my son. He had surgery to repair his fractured vertebrae and spent 4 days in the trauma unit of the hospital before coming home mid-week. He has a long recovery ahead of him, but is doing well.

*********

Despite how late they had gotten to sleep, Emma & Killian were up by mid-morning. While Killian made a light breakfast for them, Emma called Henry and her parents to tell them what time they were planning on leaving.

“They want to see us off, so you’re gonna have to tell me where we’re leaving from,” Emma said smugly.

“They know where we’ll be,” Killian answered with a smirk of his own, as he watched his wife’s brow furrow.

“Seriously? You tell everyone else, but you won’t tell me?” Emma pouted.

“Just trust me, Swan.”

Twenty minutes later, their luggage was loaded into the VW and Killian was behind the wheel to drive them to their place of departure. Emma grinned with satisfaction when she realized that he was indeed headed to the docks. Her parents, baby brother, and Henry were already waiting for them when they pulled into a parking spot beside David’s truck.

Before they exited the car, Emma turned to her husband. “I had a feeling that we would be sailing off on the Jolly Roger.”

“Aye, that we are. The real secret is where we’ll be going, though.”

David and Henry walked to the front of the car and started unloading their suitcases. Killian joined them, and Emma left them to their work as she walked over to her mother.

Mary Margaret handed Neal over to Emma who squeezed him tightly and kissed his chubby cheek. “Hey, Buddy. Are you gonna miss your big sister and brother-in-law?”

Neal blew a loud, sloppy raspberry and Emma chuckled. “I’ll take that as a yes. I’m gonna miss you too. Now don’t do too much growing while we’re gone, ok?” She kissed him one more time, and then passed him back to their mother.

Snow reached with her free arm to wrap Emma in a hug. “I’m going to miss both of you too, but I’m so happy that you’re going to have this time together. After all you’ve been through, you really deserve to get away.”

“Yeah, I know. I just wish I knew where we were going.”

“You’re going to love it, Sweetheart. Killian is so proud of what he has planned. Just try to relax and enjoy the surprise.” She released her daughter and backed up a step so she could look her in the eyes. “It will be worth the anticipation, I promise.”

Emma sighed. “If you say so. I guess I’ll find out really soon, anyway.”

She turned to see her father and son coming back down the gangplank. Apparently they had already transferred their luggage onto the ship. David reached her first and pulled her into a hug, cradling the back of her head.

“Have a great time, and don’t worry about what’s going on around here. We’ll handle anything that comes up,” he whispered.

“I’ll try not to. Thanks for taking Henry for the last week.”

He pulled away and grasped her upper arms. “We’re really looking forward to it. He’s growing up so fast and we just don’t spend enough time with him anymore.”

“Tell me about it. I almost hate to leave him because I’m afraid he’ll be three inches taller than me by the time we get back.”

David laughed and gave her a kiss on the forehead. “I doubt that. Safe travels and have fun. I love you.”

“Love you too, Dad.”

Before moving on to bid farewell to her son, Emma saw that Killian had disembarked from the ship and was making funny faces at Neal. She smiled softly at his antics, then turned and strode over to where Henry was double checking the VW to make sure they had gotten everything out of it.

“So are you all ready for your trip?” she asked, though she already knew that he was.

Henry grinned. “Yeah, I’m pretty excited. I’ve never left Storybrooke for a real vacation. Maybe next year, you, me and Killian can travel somewhere together.”

“That sounds great, but we’ll see how things go on these trips first. I’m still a little leary about leaving Storybrooke for so long.”

Henry stepped closer and hugged his mom. “It’s gonna be fine. Just try to relax and enjoy it. Killian has put a lot of work and thought into this trip and you don’t wanna ruin it by worrying about things back here the whole time.”

Emma sighed. “I know, Kid. I just wish there was a way to communicate with you. Three weeks seems like an eternity to not talk to you at all.”

Henry pulled back and gave her a sly smile. “Oh, you never know.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Emma asked, looking at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Swan, are you nearly ready to go? I’d like to get out on the open sea by early afternoon,” Killian stated as he walked over to his wife and stepson.

Emma continued to look at Henry, waiting for an explanation.

“Never mind, Mom. Just go and have a great time.”

Killian pulled Henry into a hug, telling him to behave himself and to make sure his Aunt Zelena did too. Then he allowed Emma to give her son one more hug before he took her hand to lead her up the gangplank to the Jolly Roger.

******

As her husband expertly maneuvered his ship out of the Storybrooke harbor, Emma leaned on the railing at the front. She was still trying to take everyone’s advice to relax, but years of being on constant alert made it difficult. The gentle waves rocked the Jolly in a soothing way and Emma closed her eyes and turned her face to the warmth of the sun.

Once Killian had the ship clear of any potential obstacles, he focused his attention on the beautiful figure in front of him. He knew that Emma was struggling to let go of her anxieties, and he truly hoped that she would be able to do so soon.

They sailed on for almost half an hour before Emma finally turned and made her way back to the ship’s helm. Killian had taken her out on the sea many times, so although the ship was rocking as it moved across the waves, she was able to walk surely and steadily.

Killian let go with his right hand and allowed his wife to step between himself and the wheel. She leaned back against him, placing her hands over his on the handles. He brushed a kiss against her temple, then rested his cheek on top of her sun-warmed head. No words were spoken as they traveled on until there was nothing but open water in front of them.

“Are you hungry, Love?” Killian asked, his voice rumbling against Emma’s back.

“Did you pack something to eat?”

Killian chuckled. “Oh, we’ve got plenty of food in the hold. We’re not really going to be close to a store where we’re going.”

Emma whirled around. “Seriously? Are we gonna be out in the wilderness somewhere? Because as much as I like watching “Survivor”, I really don’t wanna do that on my honeymoon!”

“Would you just trust me already, Swan?” Killian said with another laugh. “I’m not going to make you build a fire and live in a cave. We are, however, going to be in a secluded place, and will have limited contact with anyone else. I hope that you’ll be able to withstand being with only your husband for the better part of three weeks.”

“That actually sounds really nice. And to answer your original question, I am getting pretty hungry.”

Killian nodded, checked his compass to make sure they were headed in the exact right direction, and tied off the ship’s wheel to hold the course. Then he turned and rummaged through a wooden chest behind him until he emerged with a blanket.

“Lay this out on the deck and I’ll be right back,” he instructed, before disappearing below.

As soon as Emma had the blanket straightened out, her husband reappeared with a honest-to-goodness wicker picnic basket. He set it down on the blanket and settled himself beside her, then flipped both sides of the lid open.

Emma peered into the basket to see wrapped sandwiches, fresh fruit, chips, and bottles of water. “This looks really good, Babe. Did you pack it yourself?”

Killian reached into the basket and took out the sandwiches, handing one to his wife before answering. “No, your mother is responsible for this. She knew that I’ve had a lot of details to take care of in the past couple of weeks, so she volunteered to pack our meals for this first day.”

“You’ve got her wrapped right around your hook, you know that?” Emma giggled.

“Well, I tend to have that effect on people,” Killian smirked.

******

They sailed on for the rest of the day, finally dropping anchor when the sky started to turn into shades of purple and pink. After admiring the sunset together, they lay on their backs on the blanket and looked at the stars.

“It’s so peaceful out here,” Emma observed. “And even though the Storybrooke lights don’t really obscure the stars, there’s nothing like seeing them out here on the open water.”

“Aye, it’s a sight that I never tire of,” agreed Killian. “I think the only sight that I love more is that of my lovely wife.”

“You’re so corny.”

“And I’m all yours.”

“You’d better believe it, Buddy.”

They gazed at the sky until they both started to doze off. “Swan, we’d best go below and get into bed. It’s not going to do either of our backs any good to sleep on this wooden deck.”

Emma yawned and sat up. “Yeah, you’re right. Especially for a three-hundred-year-old back like yours.” She jumped to her feet and danced across the deck to escape her husband’s hook as he reached out to grab her. He chased her toward the doorway that led down to the cabin, catching her just as she got to the opening. He used his body to pin her to the door as he tickled her on her left rib cage, right where he knew she was the most ticklish.

“K-K-Killian! S-stop!” she gasped out.

He immediately pulled his hand away but continued to lean against her, grinning widely. “I think that I need to show you just how strong this three-hundred-year-old pirate’s back still is, my love.” He guided her to the ladder leading down to the cabin, and proceeded to show her for the next couple of hours.

******

“So are we going to sail all day again today?” Emma questioned after they had enjoyed some breakfast the next morning.

Killian leaned back on the wooden chair on which he was sitting and reached up on the shelf to his right. He pulled his hand back, clutching a small, blue pouch.

“We still have a little sailing to do, but we will reach our destination later this morning.”

Emma looked at the pouch with curiosity, but knowing that asking what was in it was probably going to be answered with “wait and see”, she decided to do just that.

They emerged on deck to a beautiful, calm morning. There was a slight chill in the air and Emma shivered. Her ever-observant husband noticed and pulled another blanket out of the wooden chest to wrap around her.

“Don’t worry, Love. It will be much warmer where we’re going.”

Emma cocked her head at him. “But if we’re not sailing for very long today, how are we going to end up in such a warm place?”

Killian ducked his head and looked up at her from under his eyelashes, knowing that when he looked at her like that, it made her weak in the knees. “Must I tell you again to trust me, Swan?” Then he set about raising the anchor and adjusting the sails.

When he finally had everything situated to his satisfaction, he returned to Emma’s side and handed her the blue pouch. She tugged it open and poured the contents into her palm. Half a dozen crystal beans fell out and she looked up at him with a smile.

“I forgot that Anton gave these to us as a wedding gift,” Emma said.

“Aye, he’s got quite the crop growing, and they’re in high demand.” Killian plucked one of the beans out of her hand. She deposited the rest of them back into the pouch and pulled the strings to close it. He traded the bean in his hand for the small bag and tucked it into his pocket. Then he turned and headed toward the helm.

“Go to the front of the ship and throw the bean as far as you can off the starboard side,” he directed.

“Why can’t I just throw it straight ahead?”

“Because the ship will reach the portal too soon and I won’t be able to keep it under control as well,” Killian explained. “If you throw it off to the side, it gives me time to turn the ship and slow it down a bit.”

Emma nodded her understanding and then went to the front and threw the bean as she’d been instructed. Killian gestured for her to join him at the wheel, and the two of them braced themselves as the Jolly Roger dipped down to enter the portal.

*********

I’ll be posting the final 2 chapters on the next 2 Sundays. I don’t know if my new MC story “For the Sake of Henry” will be ready to start posting after that or not. My son’s accident has thrown off my writing schedule a bit. Thank you for patiently waiting!

Tagging: @hookedmom @xsajx @kymbersmith-90 @kmomof4 @lassluna @pirateherokillian @teamhook @stahlop @elizabeethan @whimsicallyenchantedrose @resident-of-storybrooke @therooksshiningknight @jennjenn615 @lfh1226-linda @ilovemesomekillianjones @killianswannn @stories-enchanted @eleveneitherway @withheartfulloflove @kday426 @lyssapup27 @swanlovato @djlbg @kristi555 @laschatzi @xarandomdreamx @lkles08 @wyntereyez @bubblegum1425 @xhookswenchx @yasbio2015 @tiganasummertree @winterbaby89 @wefoundloveunderthelight @hollyethecurious @let-it-raines @jonesfandomfanatic @searchingwardrobes @dreamingdreamsalways @oncechicagolove @andiirivera @vvbooklady1256 @gingerchangeling @everything-person @klynn-stormz @qualitycoffeethings @vampcoffeegyrl23 @enchanted-swans @cassy1511 @ohmakemeahercules @donteattheappleshook @bluewildcatfanatic @the-darkdragonfly @demisexualemmaswan @lavenderbudd @grimmswan @spartanguard @flslp87 @ultraluckycatnd @sarahpaq08 @thisonesatellite @captainswan21 @zaharadessert @mariakov81 @snowbellewells @xouatxcs @kiwistreetswan @batana54 @nadine200179 @probalicious17 @courtorderedcake @julesep3026 @jackieorioncat @whatthehell102082 @xemmaloveskillianx @jarienn972 @sthonour @linda8084 @carpedzem @pirateprincesslena @daxx04 @winterbythesea @artistic-writer @cocohook38 @chrisilybrooke @pcrcabcth @captainswan4life85 @molly958 @kingofmyheart14 @badwolfreturns @itsfridaysomewhere @chamomileandmint @fallingforthecaptain @lovethelifeyoulive1106 @onceratheart18 @strangestarlighttree @omgmarvelous @justanother-unluckysoul @mrs-potatos-but-likes-tomatos @anothersworld @deckerstarblanche @purplehawkcaptain @therealstartraveller776 @superchocovian @k-leemac @citygirlscowboy @laughterandbooks

#csff #reception redos and jellymoons #jrob64 #self promo sunday #cs canon compliant #cs fanfic #CS fic #ouat fanfic captain swan #captain swan fanfic #captain swan fic #cs fluff

32 notes · View notes

wefoundloveunderthelight · 4 years ago

Text

Mystery Of Pixie Hollow by GleefullyCaptainSwan - Sneak Peek

Chapter 3/11

Read on AO3: | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

Or on FF

Stacy's Tortured Crew: @teamhook @kmomof4 @stahlop @lfh1226-linda @ilovemesomekillianjones @itsfabianadocarmo @mariakov81 @qualitycoffeethings @zaharadessert @jrob64 @jonesfandomfanatic @natascha-ronin @tiganasummertree @xarandomdreamx @therooksshiningknight @batana54 @superchocovian @onceratheart18 @ultraluckycatnd @snowbellewells @karlyfr13s @the-darkdragonfly @xsajx @deckerstarblanche @jonesfandomfanatic @winterbaby89

Chapter 3: Story Time

“I asked who you are, and you have yet to give me a name.” He growled again in her ear.

“My name’s Emma Swan. I just want to talk to you about your daughter.”

“What do you know about my daughter?”

“I know she went missing just like my son, Henry.” She felt his entire body flinch. “Please, right jacket pocket, there’s a picture of him. I just want to talk.”

She felt him dig into her jacket, pulling the photo free and stepping away from her. He stared at the picture, a frown slipping on his stubbled face. “How old is he?”

“He’s six. He went missing on his birthday a few days ago.”

He was waving the knife around, tucking it under his chin as he talked to himself. “It’s the appropriate age range…makes sense…hmm...few days ago…where were they…went North…” He stopped moving and stared at her. “Storybrooke, not again...”

“I’m sorry?”

“They were in Storybrooke last weekend, correct? The carnival.”

“That’s right, how did you know that?”

“I track their movements, keep an eye on where they go, look up any missing person reports after they leave.” He stepped into the boat, gesturing for her to join him. Emma stood nervously on the pier as he disappeared into the belly of the boat. She looked around at the empty pier. If she went missing now, no one would have any idea where she was.

Shit.

He poked his head up through the stairwell. “Are you coming or not, lass?”

She sighed, stepping onto the boat, and following him cautiously down the stairs. When she got to the bottom she gasped. In every direction she could see there were photos on the wall with string connecting them. It was like an art project had exploded in the small area, except it wasn’t art, it was some low-tech stalking shit if she ever saw it.

She knew she should turn around and get the hell of this man’s boat, but curiosity was eating at her. What did he know? Why was he so obsessed with the people on the walls?

“This is where I started doing my research, Alice, she went missing five years ago. We found Pixie Hollow just walking through the neighborhood and Alice loves fairytales, so she just had to go.” His voice trailed off sadly, as if he didn’t even remember she was in the room and then suddenly he spun around on his heels. “This one went missing shortly after, it’s harder for me to get information on anyone that disappeared before Alice, I tried, but my research skills aren’t that great. I hate computers, Alice always did everything…” He trailed off as he turned around again.

“You can see that they all fit the age range, around 5 to 8 years old usually.”

“You’ve been collecting all of this information for 5 years?” She finally spoke.

“I’ve had to be resourceful; the cops are useless.”

“Tell me about it.” She said with a snort.

He turned around and stared at her. “Where did he go missing at?”

“I told you, Storybrooke.”

“No, what attraction?”

“It was a mirror maze, you know, filled with mirrors, can’t find your way out.”

“Mirrors…that’s a new one. Alice, she went missing from the Jolly Roger Adventure ride, she got in the cart, she was only in for a few minutes, but when it came out the other side, she was no longer there. Vanished.”

“I don’t remember that ride being there.”

“I’m sure they change them out to avoid suspicion, just like the name. When we went, it was called Neverland Adventure Park. I believe they go by Pixie Hollow now.”

“How do you know it’s the same park?”

“You have to follow the money, love.” He said with a smirk. “And this one.” He turned toward the board on his wall. “She’s always with them.”

“Who’s that?” She stepped closer to the photo of a woman with short hair, wild eyes.

“That’s Tink. If the park opens near you, she’s sure to be found nearby.”

“Wait, like Tinkerbell?” She laughed.

“The one and only.”

“This is ridiculous. Next you’re going to tell me Peter Pan owns the place, and all his lost boys operate the rides.”

“Well done. You’re quite perceptive love, there doesn’t seem to be any reason to need to tell you.”

Her mouth dropped. “You’re insane.”

“Ouch, you wound a man, I can assure you I have my wits about me.”

She turned to leave. “I just want to find my kid, I’m not here to play pretend with a man who believes in fairytales.” He reached out and grabbed her by the wrist.

“I can assure you love; this is no fairytale; this is the stuff nightmares are made of. Pan is dangerous, and if he has your boy, you best start believing in him.”

She shook her head and pulled her hand away from him, turning to leave before something caught her eye near the stairs. She stepped closer to the photo. “I know this idiot.”

She felt him hover behind her, his breath at her neck. “That’s Felix. Real jackass that one.”

“He’s the assistant manager at Pixie Hollow.” The idiot who told her that Henry must have run away. He was there. No. Emma closed her eyes. This was insane. “I have to leave.”

“This isn’t some fantasy I’ve made up, Swan. It’s all real.” He called after her, letting her run up the stairs and away from the boat. “It’s all real.” She heard him shout as her feet hit the pier and she hurried back to her car, slamming the door shut behind her.

She tried to slow her breathing, the thought that perhaps what she had witnessed was just an elaborate nightmare and soon she would wake up in her bed and Henry would come bounding into her room and everything would be alright but as she drove home that night, thoughts of what she witnessed in that boat, she knew that no matter how crazy he seemed, the man was just desperate to find his kid.

Henry had only been missing for a few days, Killian’s daughter had been gone for 5 years. She wasn’t sure how crazy she would look if she hadn’t found Henry after that long of a time.

She stopped at a station when she was halfway to home, she filled up the bug and bought some snacks to eat on her way. She was starving and realized that she had skipped eating since she left her home that morning. As she stepped into the light, leaving the gas station behind her, she recognized a black car that she swore she saw parked outside Ashley’s house.

The sunlight gleamed across the front window for a moment and Emma walked casually to her car, she opened her door and sat in the front seat. Glancing over at the black car she saw movement in the front seat. She pulled out of the gas station, turning onto the road as she watched the black car behind her do the same.

Whoever this asshole was, they were definitely following her.

Emma drove a few miles until she spotted a convenience store on her left, turning quickly she dashed into the parking lot and parked her car. The black car squealed to turn into the lot, parking a distance away from her. Emma watched it in her rearview mirror and then swung her car open, grabbing the tire iron next to her on the seat.

She marched toward the car, gripping the tire iron in her hand. As soon as she got close to the vehicle, the door opened, and Officer Nolan stepped out of the car with his hands in front of him. “Hello Emma.”

“Are you fucking following me?” She yelled as she lowered the tire iron.

The passenger door opened, and Officer Locksley stepped out, his hand firmly on his hip where she knew his gun sat.

“We weren’t following you…” He said and Emma rolled her eyes.

“Are you kidding me? I spotted you miles ago, are you really going to try and convince me that we all just really had a hankering for some snacks miles away from town?”

“Well, we weren’t following you earlier, we just…” Officer Locksley started before his partner interrupted.

“We were following Killian, so imagine our surprise when you showed up.”

“Jones? Why are you following him? He’s just some nut on a boat.”

“You need to let us do our job, stay away from Killian Jones.”

“Why, what aren’t you telling me?”

“Look, I can’t get into specifics with you. I get it, you’re desperate.” Officer Nolan began and Emma found herself wanting to toss the tire iron at him. He flinched and held up his hand. “I’m sorry your kid hasn’t come home, but this isn’t the way to find him. Jones isn’t all there.” He said pointing to his head. “His daughter’s been gone for a long time now; we’ve been keeping tabs on him.”

“Why? I’m pretty sure you’re outside your jurisdiction.” She said with a laugh. “Why are you so obsessed with the guy.”

“Alice went missing in Storybrooke five years ago. He moved out here after a while, but we’ve always kept tabs on him. He was in and out of shelters with that little girl. Working as a fisherman with men he never should have trusted around his daughter. He’s dangerous, stay away from him.”

“Wow, judgmental much? So, if you’ve ever had the unfortunate experience of not being able to provide for yourself, of needing to ask for help somehow that makes you a bad person? Is that why you don’t believe someone took my son either? You looked me up and don’t like my backstory either?”

“Look Ma’am, we don’t want to see you get murdered too.” Officer Locksley added.

“Murdered?” She exclaimed

“Why do you always do that?” Officer Nolan yelled at his partner before turning back to her. “Look, just stay away from the man, let us do our job.”

Emma laughed and turned away from them. “Try doing your job first, maybe then you can give me advice.”

Emma took the backstreets home, satisfied when she didn’t see the black car following her anymore. How dare they judge someone because they had to live in a shelter. Emma had spent a few years in one herself before she was able to provide for her and Henry. Things weren’t always easy for them after Neal left them high and dry with no income and no clothes on their backs. Emma did what she had to do to survive. She hated to think that because of that, she was viewed as a bad mother.

She would do anything for Henry.

Emma tossed her keys on the table, shutting the door behind her and locking the latch. She went to the fridge and grabbed a beer, popping the top and dropping down on her couch. She reached over and pulled the laptop toward her, clicking the button as it blinked to life.

Pulling up Google, she typed, “Killian Jones Storybrooke.”

The search was quick and efficient, the first story came with an older photo of the man she met today. He was younger, probably in his early 20’s. The photo was of him being taken into custody, and another of his mug shot, steely blue eyes staring into the lens with a look of anger. The article was from 15 years ago.

“Killian Jones arrested for manslaughter.” The title caused her eyes to grow, she clicked the link, digging into the details. It appeared the man worked for a criminal mastermind, Mr. Gold, who operated outside the lines of Storybrooke. Killian appeared to be the muscle, hustling people for money that was owed to his boss. The story told of a love affair with the bosses’ wife, Milah. Apparently love was enough to set him straight and he turned on Gold.

From what she could gather from the court case notes, Killian had interrupted a fight between Mr. Gold and his wife, a fight so brutal that it left the woman paralyzed and unable to walk. The ensuing fight ended with Mr. Gold’s death and Killian’s incarceration for manslaughter, with time served and good behavior, Killian served five years.

Emma searched again, “Killian and Milah Jones.” A grainy photo of a wedding was all she could find, the man smiling as he stood behind the woman in the wheelchair. She bit her lip, clicking onto the next article. “Woman dies in car crash leaving behind husband and infant daughter.”

Emma made an audible noise as she clicked the article, reading the story about how a drunk driver had crashed into the couple who were returning home from a quiet dinner. Milah Jones died at the scene leaving Killian alone with his infant daughter, Alice.

Emma wiped the tears from her eyes, clicking on the search bar. “Killian Jones missing daughter”

The photo of the carnival caused her heart to stop. She recognized the lettering on the sign in the background. It said “Neverland”, but she remembered the way the letters of “Pixie Hollow” lit up the night she had arrived at the carnival. Reading the article, she found that the story matched the one that Killian had told her earlier that evening. His daughter had gone into the ride and never came out.

Whatever Killian had become in his life, a liar wasn’t one of them.

Emma didn’t know what it was about the man on the screen in front of her, blue eyes staring back at her as if he had a sad story to tell, but more than anything, she saw understanding behind his eyes. He understood what she was going through more than anyone else.

She reached for her phone sending off a text to Will.

Emma: You were right, it was a wild goose chase going after these parents, no one wanted to talk to me. I just need a few days to get right in my head. I’ll text you soon. Love you.

Before she could stop herself, she was in her car, driving down the highway on her way back to Boston. She glanced in the rearview mirror making sure there wasn’t a black car behind her, the officers who had found nothing about her son in the time they had been looking.

When she pulled up to the dock, she looked at herself in the mirror. “This is crazy.” She said with a laugh.

Crazy was all she had, she thought.

Getting out of her car, she made her way toward the boat parked at the end of the slip. She creeped onboard, unsure of the etiquette for alerting the resident of a houseboat to her presence. “Hello?” She called out nervously, hoping he wasn’t brandishing his knife at this hour. “Killian? It’s me, Emma Swan. We met earlier today.”

There was a creak below her, and she froze. “Hello?”

“It’s bad form to sneak into a man’s home in the middle of the night.” She heard the voice below her; his boots tapped against the boards as he ascended the stairs, moonlight dancing against his dark hair as he reached the deck.

“I’m sorry. I uh…I needed to talk to you. To warn you.”

“Warn me? What do you have to warn me about, love?”

“When I left here, I was followed by the cops.”

“Of course, you were. I’m honestly surprised it took Mills this long to send those two out for a visit. Pity they involved you, my apologizes, Swan.”

“Wait, you knew you were being followed?”

“David and Robin have been keeping an eye on me ever since I left Storybrooke. They are determined that one day they will catch me slicing young children to pieces and put me away forever.” He narrowed his eyes. “Is that what you believe, love?”

“I think you just miss your daughter.” She said softly.

“You mean the boys didn’t tell you all about my sordid past?”

“No. Well, I mean yes, but I don’t care. I read all about it, Mr. Gold, Milah, Alice, if you wanted to hurt me you would have done it earlier when you held a knife to my throat. The way I see it, everyone has a past, that doesn’t mean we don’t miss our kids.”

He stepped toward her. “You’re not afraid of me, Lass?”

She shivered as his lips practically danced off her neck. “N..no.” He stepped back and stared at her as if he were examining every inch of her.

“Then you believe my little, how did you put it earlier…fairytale?”

“I don’t know what I believe, but I know my son didn’t run away.”

“Very well, then it’s story time.”

~*~

“Daddy I want to ride the Jolly Roger!”

“Ok starfish, but first daddy needs to get you that churro you wanted.”

“But I want to ride the ride, there’s isn’t any line.”

“But you can’t take food with you on the ride, Alice.”

“I can go on it by myself while you hold my churro, daddy. I’m a big girl.”

“Are you now, love?”

The little girl smiled brightly, and Killian knew he could never tell her no. He paid for the churro and the man handed it toward him as they walked toward the Jolly Roger Adventure ride. They approached the attendant and he handed over the tickets.

“Is she alright to ride alone?”

The man laughed, “Ah yeah, it’s not scary, in one door and out the other.”

He nodded to the man, looking around at the quiet ride, there wasn’t a single child in line. “Alright, starfish, get in your ship and enjoy the ride.” The little girl wrapped her arms around his waist and smiled up at him.

“Love you daddy.”

“I love you too, my darling.”

She ran toward the ride, looking back one last time. “Don’t eat my churro.”

Killian’s eyes darted around the room, watching as the woman examined the photos he had amassed in the belly of his boat. He didn’t know if the woman believed everything he had told her about his dealings with Peter Pan and his traveling carnival, but he knew that she was desperate to find her son and if he knew anything it was that desperate people would believe almost anything.

If Pan had this woman’s son, he would need her to believe him. It was the only way he was ever going to get Alice back. He’d been doing this alone for five years, maybe it was time to try something else.

~*~

“What are you going to do when you get out of here?” Alice asked Henry as they sat in the dark.

“I’m going to eat the biggest piece of birthday cake I’ve ever eaten. I might even eat an entire cake.” The girl laughed. In the few days she had known Henry, he had always been at her side. He was scared and missed his mother, but more than anything else, he seemed to feel comfortable in her presence.

Alice had been here longer than most of the other children, she had remembered that terrifying feeling of being alone, knowing that you were trapped and couldn’t get home. She missed her father more than anything in this world but growing up she had learned a lot from her father about accepting your circumstances, learning to adapt to your environment.

She had done just that, adapted. She didn’t cause trouble, she made friends with all the children, and she knew when to speak and when not to. She felt it was her job to take the children under her wing, to keep them out of harms way.

“What are you going to do when you get out of here?” The boy asked.

“I’m going to sit down with my dad and eat a churro.” She laughed, smiling fondly at the last memory she had of her father standing at the entrance of that stupid ride, holding a teddy bear in one arm and a churro in the other. The smile on his face as he watched her disappear into the black void was the last thing she remembered every night when she went to sleep.

One day, I’ll find you daddy, she thought.

One day, I promise.

#mystery of pixie hollow #stacy's fics #emma swan #killian jones #captain swan fics #captain swan au #captain swan modern au #captain swan

22 notes · View notes

thejollyroger-writer · 4 years ago

Text

THE WASTELAND - HOME (15/15)

Some triggers: this story is rated TEEN, mostly for violence. It takes place during wartime, and some of the characters go through some violence and torture. If you need more information about this, please just message me!

SUMMARY: In a world that has been saturated in war for as long as anyone can remember, Emma Swan has rebuilt her life as far away from the chaos as possible, opening her own maternity hospital after spending too many years in makeshift battlefield aid stations. But one night, a bloodied and battered soldier finds her hospital trying to get away from an enemy with a penchant for torture and a personal vendetta against him. With the help of Emma’s childhood friend Prince David and a motley collection of humans and magic-wielders, the quest to save Killian Jones’ life from the poison used by the enemy takes them to places even beyond the known world.

A/N: Can you believe it? This story is COMPLETE, which feels surreal and ethereal in unexplainable ways. I've literally been writing this story longer than it took me to write my masters' thesis -- though, needing to write my masters' thesis is most of the reason it has taken me this long. Thank you all for sticking around through it all, if you've been here since the beginning -- and if you've hopped on somewhere along the way, you're just as important to me. Thank you, all. Enjoy the last chapter.

Start from the Beginning // Also on AO3!

For a long, drawn-out moment, nothing happens. Emma can feel the beating of her heart in her stomach and fears that something has gone wrong, attempting to use her unhoned magic for too big a task too quickly.

And then, she feels her feet shift on uneven ground and she dares to open her eyes.

Sand.

They're on the shore. Everyone is on the shore, Belle still tending to Will's wounded shoulder and Mary Margaret comforting David, his pain obvious on his face. Killian releases her hand, rushing to the prince's side with his canteen at the ready. The water doesn't heal David as quickly as it did Killian, but as he swallows the few sips he was given, his expression grows relieved and the tendrils of poison retract across his exposed chest before disappearing from the site of the wound. It's not nearly as climactic as Killian's healing was (Emma refuses to think about why that might be) but she still feels a weight lifted from her chest as all traces of the poison disappear, leaving only a small cut on his side where the arrow nicked him.

Killian and Mary Margaret simultaneously sigh an audible breath of relief, her petite form almost comically small as she leans into Killian's shoulder.

"Let's get off this bloody island," Killian says, allowing only a moment's pause before he helps Dave to his feet — though his words are practically forgotten as the forest begins to groan and grumble, trees snapping, cracking, falling to the ground behind them.

And they watch as four, five, six boys move through the treeline, all dressed in rags and covered in dirt.

"The Lost Boys!" Wendy cries, rushing towards them.

"Please take us home with you, Wendy," the one who looks to be the oldest begs, terror obvious on his face, as on all of their faces.

She turns to look at David. "Without Pan's magic, the island will disappear, and the boys will die."

David shakes his head. "I have no argument."

"What about what Pan told your brothers? That only the amount who arrived can leave?" Regina's voice is heavy with worry. None of them want to leave the boys behind, but if it means that no one will make it home, it's a much heavier question.

But Belle is the one to answer. "With Pan defeated, the island holds no power. Even if it wanted to stop us from leaving, it is no longer able."

The oldest boy knits his eyebrows. "Does that mean—" he starts, but is silenced by a deafening thump as another large tree hits the ground, this one not far from the shore and sending a tremor under their feet.

"Welcome aboard the Jolly Roger," Killian says with a smile, gesturing for the boys to lead the way to the waterline and aboard the ship.

"Rufio, where's Felix?" Wendy asks, walking beside the oldest of the boys.

But the boy shakes his head. "He's always been the most dedicated to Pan and here longer than the rest of us, you know that. He said he would rather die here with Neverland than become a traitor."

"Oh, Felix," she breathes, but it does not keep her or the other boys from boarding.

As the rest of them move towards the ship, Emma moves to stand beside Killian, who is waiting to go last as the captain does. He pats Robin on the shoulder, the pain of losing Graham sinking in once more as his body is carried onto the ship. “Take him below decks. Merlin can show you where to find what you’ll need to wrap him.” Robin just nods.

"We did it, Swan," he breathes, reaching down to squeeze her hand. "How do you feel?"

"It's almost surreal," she replies, lifting his hand so she can look at his arm. She still barely believes it, would not have believed the way the water healed him if she hadn't seen it herself — and she still had trouble understanding how easily he was healed by her magic, even after learning of their connection, their destiny.

She still doesn't want to believe it, really. Everyone is so sure that it's about them, that they were prophesied ages ago to go on this journey, to save each other. She's not denying their connection, not anymore, but she still struggles to believe that they were destined to be together because some ancient seer decided it was supposed to be so.

"Let's go home," he says finally, gesturing for Emma to follow Robin and Regina onto the Jolly Roger.

Home. He's not even sure where home is anymore. For years, it was in the Northern Mountains, then with Dave and his band of followers after returning from Neverland. He's been ready for a new home for a while, he realizes, following Emma onto his ship. With her, he hopes. Hell, he's never wanted anything as much as he has wanted to be with her. They're destined to be together, but all he wants to do is kiss her, find all the things that make her happy and never stop giving them to her. He wants to wake up beside her, learn the way her golden waves look in the morning sun, the way she takes her coffee. If it means working beside her in the hospital, doing everything he can to help her while hopefully keeping them from harm — hell, he'll work in a maternity hospital. For her. He would do anything for her.

They leave the island behind quickly, the Lost Boys, Wendy, and a fully-healed Will watching it crumble, leaving behind nothing but a pile of ash and a cloud of dirt that covers the horizon.

Killian doesn't turn back. Some of the others peer over their shoulders but Killian seems to be the only one fully content leaving the island behind without a second thought — but, then again, he is the only one among them to have experienced it twice, to have it take multiple people he loves from him, even if it brought others together.

He thinks of Graham, being prepared belowdecks for burial at sea once they're out of the wretched Neverland waters; he thinks of Milah, who sacrificed so much, who hid her true identity from a world she felt so unsafe in, gone forever in the pile of rubble and debris.

Liam. He thinks of his brother, releasing the helm to feel the large ring hanging from his neck between his fingers. He left Liam behind in Neverland twice, never able to give him the burial at sea he always wanted. Well, he thinks, turning his head to glance behind him, if the entire island crumbles into the sea, then Liam is finally laid to rest as he would have wanted.

"I was wondering if you were ever going to look back," Merlin says from the spot he has found against the railing, only using the basest of his powers to move the ship along the waters until they take to the sky.

"I wasn't going to," he confesses, looking down at the ring once more. "But then I thought of Liam, and the burial at sea he deserved and never got."

"Well, the whole damned island got a burial at sea, and that sure as hell included him."

Killian nods, managing a smile. "That's what I thought, too."

They travel along the water for a few hours, pausing around dusk to bid their final farewells to Graham before taking to the sky. The sun sinks below the horizon, and Killian turns to the same star charts they used on the journey there to guide them home, though this time Emma takes part in all of it: helping Merlin and Belle fly the ship, learning the stars that they use to guide them back to the Northern Mountains. He has always felt at peace behind the helm of this ship, even when it was his brother's; having Emma beside him, his chest pressed against her back as he points over her shoulder towards the stars, is the most at home he has ever felt, and he wishes — on the stars that guide them home, on any good luck charm he has ever known, praying to the gods who have seemed to answer him a lot lately — that it's not a feeling that disappears.

The journey back isn’t as celebratory as expected from a group of people who have evaded what they all believed would be certain death. David and Mary Margaret spend most of the trip in the lieutenant’s quarters, Mary Margaret finding the sleep that evaded her the last few days, the two of them taking turns caring for the other. Merlin and Belle spend the return trip just as they did the journey there, guiding the ship through the air, though when Emma is feeling at her strongest, she attempts to assist them. (The rest of the crew does not fail to notice how Will spends much of his time sitting against the railing near wherever Belle has stationed herself, eating what seems to be a never ending supply of apples and chocolate and other types of random snacks and reading the books spread across his lap, even though he was never known to be a voracious reader before.) Similarly, after being comforted by her after Graham’s burial, Robin and Regina spend most of their time together, a pairing of sensible pantsuits and olive green attire that none of them saw coming.

Wendy and the Lost Boys spend most of their time gaping at the views over the railing, trying their hardest not to get airsick to avoid ridicule, filling their stomachs with each of Merlin and Belle’s smorgasbords as if they have never seen that much food in their life — Killian doesn’t let himself think about how long they may have been in Neverland, just how long it has been since their last decent meal, and he is happy to be the one to offer it to them.

"What are we going to do with them?" Mary Margaret asks Emma one night as she sits with her on the deck, picking at the half-eaten sandwich on the plate in her lap.

"With who?"

She points to the boys, throwing small rocks and food scraps off the deck of the ship and laughing as they disappear into the clouds below them.

"I guess we're going to—" she starts, but then realizes that she has no idea how to finish the sentence and leans closer to her friend. "What are we going to do with them?"

It's a thought that never even crossed her mind. She's been so worried about returning to the life she had, possibly even learning to include Killian in the chaos of running the hospital, that she never stopped to think about the people whose lives have been upended because of their trip. Who knows how long the boys have been stuck on Neverland, how long it has been since they were taken from their families — if they ever had them in the first place. Emma remembers the long nights on the streets of the Gale when she wished she were anywhere else,praying to whichever of the gods was listening to give her a place to belong. That's what Pan did for these boys in his own wretched way, she realizes.

“Who knows how long they were stuck on that island. I doubt many of them have thought about what they would do if they ever returned.”

But Emma shakes her head, remembering the nights she stared up at the stars and wondered what her life could be like if she were in any other situation. “I can assure you that some of them have thought about it.” She doesn’t mean for her voice to be that soft, to make the hurt so apparent in her words. She tries not to play the orphan card, especially around Mary Margaret, whose empathy is so strong Emma sometimes thinks she fully understands the heartbreak she tries her hardest to hide even though she only recently lost her father and sees her mother as often as her and David’s schedule allows.

Mary Margaret just nods, taking a bite of her sandwich. “I suppose we could start by talking to them.”

Emma can’t help but laugh, thinking of how she would have responded in their place — which, she supposes, is exactly what David did, granting her a new life in the infirmary. She wonders if any of them have discovered their powers, or if they would simply hide, dormant, for the years they spend without aging in Neverland. “We should wait until morning, though,” she comments, watching as one of the younger boys lets out a big yawn across the deck. When she turns back to Mary Margaret, she is stifling a yawn of her own. “Looks like it’s your bedtime, too,” she adds with a soft laugh.

“I’m just so tired all the time. Is this all that pregnancy is?”

“I have no firsthand experience to share, but from what I’ve heard, yeah, that’s a big part of it.”

“Someday, Emma,” Mary Margaret comments, and it’s a thought that hits her like a truck. Sure, she’s spent years in the maternity hospital, helping other women bring babies into this world, but having one of her own was never a thought that crossed her mind. Is that what she wants? Could she even bring a child into a world so full of violence and terror and the exact things they’ve been battling for the last few weeks, not to mention the War that has affected every facet of the world for longer than anyone can remember.

It’s at least not a thought that she needs to focus on right now.

“Hey, love,” Killian says, thankfully pulling her out of the depths of her own mind as he approaches them from across the deck. “We’re going to begin the descent back to the water soon. Just wanted to let you know.”

“Thanks, Killian,” she replies, offering him a soft smile, which he answers with a soft kiss to her cheek.

“I’m going to bed, then,” Mary Margaret says, one hand on her stomach as she reaches out to squeeze Emma’s hand with the other, then moves across the deck to the stairs.

“I can’t wait to be on the water again,” Killian says after a moment of silence, leaning back against the railing, and she steps into his arms.

“Why is that?”

“There’s just something calming about it, something that’s not there in the sky or even on the land. The moment the hull hits the water, I just feel… peace.” She hums, resting her forehead against his shoulder. “It’s not just the ocean, either, though. Graham always laughed at me when I would go stand in the rain, or sometimes stay in the shower for longer than I meant to.”

Emma leans back to look up at him, gears turning in her head. Rain. Showers. The ocean. The way his body reacted to the pool on Dead Man’s Peak. Water. “Killian,” she whispers, then cups her hand between them, creating a small pool of water in her palm. “Can you… move this?”

He looks first at her, then at her hands, his dark brows furrowed low on his forehead. “I’m afraid I don’t understand, love.”

“Was your mother one of the merfolk?”

This makes his eyebrows jump towards his hairline, bright eyes wide. “Pardon?”

“Your mother,” she repeats. “I know she passed when you were young, but what do you know about her? Was she a mermaid?”

“No. No, that’s… that’s crazy,” he whispers, staring down at the water in her palm, slowly dripping through her fingers onto the deck between his worn boots.

“Can you just try? For me?” Remembering how her magic reacted to his touch, she reaches her free hand out and rests it on his hip.

He nods, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows hard. “What do I need to do?”

“Think about what you want it to do. Close your eyes. Feel it.”

“What do I want it to do?”

With a soft chuckle, she turns her eyes up to his, shaking her head. “It doesn’t matter. Just… anything.”

He nods, but stays silent, holding up his hand in the space between them as he squeezes his eyes shut. Somehow, Emma can feel what he’s thinking, imagines the small sphere of water rising above her hand before it happens — but then it’s there, right before her eyes, hovering above her palm.

"Bloody hell," he mumbles, his eyes darting to meet hers for a moment instead of staring at the sphere. "And you're… this isn't you?"

"No," she whispers, picturing it falling back to her hand just to make sure — but it stays there, hovering a few inches above her palm.

“Of the merfolk,” he whispers, the sphere splashing back down into Emma’s hands. “I never even imagined.”

“I’ve known for a very long time,” Merlin quips from behind them, his eyes closed but obviously paying attention to them.

“For real? And you never thought to tell me?”

He shrugs. “It was not my secret to share.”

“Why did I not learn about it sooner?”

Emma gasps, pulling Killian’s gaze back to her, and Merlin laughs, finally opening his eyes. “So you figured it out, then?”

“The Prophecy,” she whispers, barely believing the words as she says them. “Their strengths will finally be revealed. That’s the line, right?”

Merlin nods.

“Not just my strength, but both of ours. He needed… me. Us.”

It’s another piece of the puzzle that fits a little too well, that makes it hard to deny that they are the ones from the prophecy, brought together by destiny. A chill runs down her spine as Killian’s jaw drops, realizing exactly what her words meant.

“Bloody hell,” he mumbles. “I need… sorry, love,” he mumbles, backing away from her to go and stand by himself, looking out over the moonlit water as the ship makes its descent.

Emma’s heart drops and she crosses her arms, leaning back until her hips hit the railing behind her. Is it too much for him, now? The man that confessed his love for her in a cave, who has believed in their connection since the first he heard of it? She understands needing space — she would be a hypocrite if she claimed she didn’t — but she still feels a heaviness in her chest, and icy pain in her heart as she thinks of the worst-case scenario: Killian turning away from her just as she realizes she is ready to be with him. When she feels her lip quiver, she pulls it up between her teeth, turning her back to where Killian is standing and taking a few steps away from him. Part of her wants to disappear belowdecks, curl up in her hammock and hide from her feelings, as alone as she has ever been. Squeezing her eyes shut, she tries to take herself somewhere else: counting the supplies in the basement of her hospital, walking along the well-known trails by her house — the very house that she dreamt of sharing with Killian not too long ago. She shakes that thought away and tries again, this time in the palace gardens where she learned most of what she knows about plants, about healing. Then she’s in the hallway, aiding David in a meeting with his advisors, focusing on the echoing of her boots on the stone floors and not the fears running through her mind.

Across the deck, Killian turns to look at her, trying to organize the thoughts jumbled in his brain. A merfolk. He has learned so much over the last few weeks, about the world, his friends, his enemies — himself, more than anything else. He has tasted death and felt true grief, witnessed unexplainable things, traveled to places he has spent more than a decade trying to forget. Every step was harder than the previous, pushing himself harder and farther than he thought he was capable — and for every step, she has been there, healing him inside and out, stitching together his wounds and piecing together the remains of his broken heart. Why is this so difficult for him to grasp, given all of the other impossible things he has witnessed since Emma Swan entered his life? Water has always calmed him, healed him, given him a sanctuary in times when he had no others, the same way Emma became his sanctuary.

He loves her, he realizes, not for the first time, though the thought still threatens to knock him off his feet. He loves her in ways he never knew were possible, more than he ever imagined being able to love someone, loves her in a way that fills the deepest parts of him, dark spaces that hold his regrets and his fears and the few things he has allowed himself to dream about. And there is nothing, no feeling that can compare to the warmth that washes over him when she holds his hand, when she smiles at him. His mind separated the two, his powers and his love for Emma, but he realizes now, in this moment, turning away from the water to find her, that they are not two separate things. His powers only exist because of his love for her, and though the time they have spent together is only the first drop in the ocean of the rest of their lives, he wants to look back on his life overwhelmed by the memories they create together, better because of the other.

Then, he notices the pain on her face, her eyes squeezed shut, bottom lip pulled between her teeth, and her arms wrapped around her knees as she sits alone by the railing — alone, exactly where he left her. He crosses quickly, his footsteps hard against the wooden planks, and kneels in front of her, carefully reaching out to brush his fingers against her hand.

“Emma?” he whispers, but it is not loud enough to break through the wall that has formed around her, protecting her from whatever kind of hurt she feared he was leaving her with. Leaving her, he realizes. That’s what she fears, more than anything else. Is that what she thinks he is doing? “Emma, love, I’m sorry.” This time, his voice is a bit louder, his fingers a bit firmer on her hand, and her eyes open, a runaway tear falling down her cheek.

“What?” She raises her hand to wipe her cheek, but Killian beats her to it.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, covering her hand with his once more. “I shouldn’t have — walking away from you like that, it was unfair. I don’t want you to think…” he clears his throat, trying his best to smile at her through his stuttering before starting again. “I’m here, love. With you. That’s not going to change.”

“Promise?” she whispers, unable to control the quivering of her lip, and he learns more about her with that single word than the rest of their journey. The both have dark pasts, Emma’s even more than his own, and the traumas that they have endured have left pieces of them broken, pieces that may never be fixed, but pieces that perhaps can be soothed, especially when the darkness rears its head.

None of the words that come to mind are good enough. He nods. Laughs, thankfully answered with a smile of her own. And then leans into her, holding himself up against the railing to keep from crashing into her as he finds her lips with his own. It’s the best promise he can give her, and when she reaches up and slides her fingers through his hair, her other hand tightening around the collar of his jacket, he can’t help but laugh against her lips, mumbling the words that have been waiting on the tip of his tongue for the right moment.

“I love you, Emma,” he says, and she resituates them so they are laying beside each other on the deck, pulling herself into him in ways his previous wounds never would have allowed.

“I love you,” she repeats with a giggle of her own, her lips finding his again as the ship touches down on the water, lurching against the surface.

They’re back. The real world — Nephylisis, the Gale, the War. The Wasteland. But they have each other.

Anything is possible.

TAGS: @shireness-says @cssns @kmomof4 @thisonesatellite @teamhook @darkcolinodonorgasm @cocohook38 @ultraluckycatnd @facesiousbutton82 @hollyethecurious @stahlop @tiganasummertree @angellifedeath @pepperpottss @mariakov81 @scientificapricot @kday426 @xarandomdreamx @ohmightydevviepuu @xhookswenchx @nikkiemms @carpedzem @superchocovian @resident-of-storybrooke @snowbellewells @courtorderedcake @captain-emmajones @killian-whump @officerrogers @killianjonesownsmyheart1 @captainkillianswanjones – want to be added or removed? let me know!

#the wasteland #my writing #wordsbymeganmichael #cssns #cssns 2020 #my fic #captain swan #cs ff #cs fic #ouat ff #fantasy au #if you made it this far and found yourself in the tags please know there is a secret epilogue #but i'm not changing the chapter count #its already written in my head it just needs to come out

27 notes · View notes

everything-person · 4 years ago

Text

Last Voyage

Summary: Emma surprises Killian with an old fashioned voyage with his old crew then Killian has a surprise for Emma

*cough cough*

“You alright?”

“Fine love. Just needed to clear my throat.”

Killian and Emma were walking along the beach in the early morning slowly making their way to the docks.

“We’re almost there.”

“What’s with all the secrecy love?”

Emma smiles up at him there was a shine in her eyes, “You’ll see.”

They made their way down the pier where the Jolly Roger was docked.

“Do you wish to have another one of our private adventures aboard the Jolly Roger? If that’s all you could have just said Swan.”

“Not this time.”

They made their way into the deck where they were greeted by some familiar faces.

“Welcome aboard Captain.”

Before them stood Henry, Hope, Smee and some of his old crew.

Killian smiled while also furrowing his brow. Turning to his wife for answers.

“I thought you might wish to have a day at sea. Re-live your glory days.”

“My glory days started the day I met you Swan.” Picking up her hand and placing a kiss on the back of it. “Will you be joining me, love?”

“No,” she whispered, “not this time. I have somethings to take care of.”

He turned to Henry and Hope. He approached them with open arms.

“Then it’s looks like we’ll be having all the fun. Don’t worry love I’ll have them back before Sundown and we will eagerly enrapture you with our tales of our adventurous day.”

Henry looked down before meeting his eyes, “Actually we promised mom we’d help her with her stuff today. Maybe tonight we can play dice. I might just beat you this time.”

“Oh then perhaps I should give Dave a call. Show him what a pirates life was like.”

Henry shifted clearing his throat before saying, “Uh Grandpa is taking care of the sheriff office while we are helping mom today. Sorry but you stuck with your old crew for today.”

Killian nodded at Henry before turning his attention to his daughter. She had the same shine in her eyes as her mother, biting her lip, looking anywhere but at him.

“What’s wrong lass?”

She inhaled a deep breath before speaking, “Nothing Papa. I’ll just miss you.”

He cupped his daughters face, “Don’t worry, my little cygnet. I’ll be home tonight.”

She nodded embracing him. She burrows her face in his chest breathing him in. “I love you Papa.”

Killian squeezes his daughter not sure what has her so distraught, “I love you to my little cygnet. From your first breath far beyond my last.”

Hope let go heading to the gang plank quickly, without another glance to her father.

Henry approached the man that’s been a mentor, a father figure to him. Wrapping him in his arms, “Good bye Killian.”

Letting go he followed his sister down the gang plank waiting for his mother at the bottom.

Killian turned to see the love of his life standing there. She took slow step towards him her eyes never leaving his. Reaching up held his face, her eyes scanned every inch.

“What’s wrong Emma?”

She’s hooked her head offering him a smile, “Nothing. It just. . . sometimes I can’t believe that blacksmith I tied to a tree that said I need him alive would be so right.”

Killian chuckled, “Aye. Sometimes I can’t believe I forgot about that damned bar wench that kissed the hell out of me.”

She smiled, leaning up catch his lips in a soft kiss. Pulling away she rested her forehead against his, “I love you Killian. Thank you for everything.”

“I love you too Emma. Forever and always.”

Her hands slid down his cheeks to his neck over his shoulders down his arm grasping his hook and hand. Her eyes never leaving his, she started backing away holding onto his hand until she was to far away to hold on any more. Letting her hand fall she turned making her way off the ship. Henry reaches out his hand to help her off the last step intertwining her arm with him.

“When did you become such a gentleman?”

“I’m always a gentleman mom. I learned from the best.”

They made their way up the pier. They say and watched as the ship set sail. Her Captain on the quarter deck waving to his family before turning to wheel where he belonged.

As they stood watching Hope couldn’t hold in her emotions anymore. A sob escaped her lips, as tears started pouring out her eyes. “He should be home. We should be with him.”

Emma embraces her daughter, “That’s never how he wanted to go.”

“But he was fine. He was walking and knew who we were.”

“He also thought Grandpa was alive. He didn’t see us. He probably saw you as the little girl who would ask him to close the window so Peter Pan couldn’t get her. He probably saw me as the ten year old boy he helped rescue from Neverland.”

Emma pulled away looking at her children who have grown into adults that stood before her now.

“Yes but he is so proud of the people you have become. He was so happy to be a father and be apart of this family. He loves you both so much.”

Hope let out another sob as Henry wrapped an arm around her, letting one lone tear slide down his cheek.

“Besides it’s for the best he didn’t see me as I am now. A wrinkly old crown with gray straw for hair,” Emma let out a breathy laugh.

Henry shook his head, “He saw you as you actually are. He always has. The beautiful Savior.”

Emma smiled at her son, “Come on let’s go home.”

Later Emma was going through some things in their room. Remembering all the good times they’ve shared in this house. The wonderful life he shared with her.

She opened his night stand finding the copy of Treasure Island she gave him.

“This is ridiculous. This person obviously had no idea what they were bloody talking about,” Killian muttered.

Emma rolled over, “Babe Go to bed.”

“This book is an atrocity love.”

“Then stop reading it.”

“Why would I do that when they just started the mutiny?”

She laughed to herself. She would always try showing him how this realm reviews pirates with movies and books. Every time he would get riled up but any time she suggested to turn it off or throw the book out he would refuse having to see how it ends.

The next thing she pulled out was a familiar black scarf.

“So now you’re a gentleman?”

“Giants can smell blood. And I’m always a gentleman.” Hook said before putting liquid on her hand.

“Ah! Ow! What is that?”

“Rum and a bloody waste of it.”

He gently wrapped her hand with the soft material tying it off with his mouth. Her fingers lightly brushing against his cheek.

Emma sighed remembering the spark she felt. Wondering not for the first time how much more time they would’ve had if she trusted him. If they came back together. How different their adventures would’ve been.

Something shiny caught her eye and she reached in and pulled out the last item in the drawer.

It was one of his hooks.

Killian kicked open their bedroom door while his lips fused to her. Her legs wrapped around his hips her latched around his neck.

Coming up for air Emma whispers, “Never do that again.”

“I’ll never leave your side even if the gods try to rip us a apart,” he promised before capturing her lips again.

Falling onto the bed they began divesting each other of their clothing. Killian reaches to take off his hook. Emma reaches her hand up, only in her bra and underwear, looking at him through her eyelashes.

“Leave it on.”

Killian groans, “You little minx.”

Emma sighed. As the memory fades away. So many nights, and some days, filled with passion. Both of them always willing to show the other how much they love them. Always up to meet a challenge.

Moving to put the items back in their respective places the book falls from her lap and clatters to the floor. Emma places the scarf and hook back before reaching down picking up the book. When she lifts it a note falls from its pages. Placing the book on the bed she once again reaches down and grabs the fallen piece of paper.

Unfolding it she is greeted with Killian hand writing.

‘Dearest Swan,

I’m sorry. I never wished to leave and now I have no choice in the matter. It seems to be a cruel joke. To be sent back to you by the gods themselves only to have my mind unravel while I’m still with you. I know I don’t have much time left. And I plan to cherish every moment with you I can.

When I do go, all I wish is to be at your side. For the last thing I hold is our family in my arms. The last thing I touch be your face. The last thing I taste be you lips. The last thing I see is the love in your eyes for me. If I am to drawn my last breath I wish it is your kiss that steals it.

And when I am gone. I will keep my promise I made all those years ago. I will move on but I promise you no heaven the gods can provide will compare to the life I have lived with you.

You are the love on my life. The mother of my children. My wife. My savior. My true love.

However long we are apart that will never change. My love will stay with you and I hope give you comfort in your time of need. And when it is your time I can only hope that the gods will once again reunite us.

Until then I ask that every day you live. Hug our children and give them an extra squeeze for me.

With all my love. Yours from the end of the realms and time.

Killian’

Tears fell freely from her eyes. They were never sure if Killian knew what was happening to him. Now she had proof that he did.

A noise pulled her from her thoughts. Still clutching the note to her chest she made her way downstairs. Sharp knocking was coming from her front door.

She opened it to find a pair of blue eye that she engraved into her memory.

“Killian.”

He bent down wrapping her in his arms, burying his face in her neck.

“Sorry ma’am I know you weren’t expecting us so soon but he insisted on turning around and coming home,” Smee explained his signature hat in his hands.

“That’s alright. Thank you for bringing him home.”

Smee nodded, closing the door as he left.

“Why did you send me away love?”

“I thought you’d like to be at sea when the time came.”

Killian finally lifted his head, his gaze burning into her, “Don’t you know Swan all I have ever wanted was to be with you.”

Emma gave him a sad smile, “I do now.”

They made their way up to their bed laying down curling up together one last time. They not sure how long they laid there just enjoying their time together.

Killian reaches up brushing a stray strand of hair out of her face. “I think it’s time love.”

Emma nodded scooting closer.

“I don’t want to leave you alone.”

“You aren’t,” she said with a shaky breath her lip quivering, “You will always be with me. And I’ll follow you shortly.”

She leaned up capturing his lips once last time. She pulls away resting her forehead against his.

“I love you Emma Swan,” he whispered.

She watched as the deep blue eyes that looked last all her walls that have always saw her closed for the last time.

A tear fell from her eye landing on his cheek sliding down his face.

“I love you Killian Jones.”

#ouat #once upon a time #emma swan #captain hook #killian jones #cs fanfic #cs ff #cs one shot #cs angst

30 notes · View notes

suwya · 4 years ago

Text

Till the Stars Had Run Away - Chapter 7

Summary: Killian Jones was a voyager. Actually, he was many things, or at least he had been - a lieutenant, a brother, a loving boyfriend - until everything had turned upside down and his life had hit an all time low. So, he gave up. Aboard his spaceship he abandoned Arcadia, his planet, navigating the stars and other solar systems in search of... well, he still didn't know what he was searching for, but his rule was "never remain in the same place longer than necessary."

Rating: M

Prologue; Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6

AO3

A/N: Thank you @thisonesatellite for being the best beta reader I could ever ask for. And thank to all of you who are reading this.

Chapter 7

Everything exists,

everything is true

and the earth is just

a bit of dust beneath our feet.

(W. B. Yeats)

“Help yourself.” David had accompanied Killian to some sort of warehouse with various spare parts of spaceships piled up here and there on shelves. “Sorry, I don't understand much about mechanics.” He apologized.

Killian looked around him, some pieces appeared to be useful, others looked like half-broken remains from which perhaps a couple of bolts could be extracted but nothing more. “It seems more boneyard than storage.”

“Yeah, well, not everybody who landed here was lucky enough to tell the tale..” David sighed.

A look of understanding passed between them. Killian nodded and started to rummage through the pieces. They had just checked the Jolly Roger to assess the damages, passing through a hidden corridor that led directly to the hangar without having to go out into the open. If I had known this passage existed, I would have probably been spared my hospital stay, Killian had thought.

“What is like to grow up on this planet?” He asked nonchalantly, still trying to decipher the man next to him.

“Nobody is from Vernal-Den.”

Killian looked at him suspiciously “Then, how did you land here?”

“Probably, same as you did. We had entered the gravitational field without even realizing it. Sadly, we were less fortunate than you, our spaceship was destroyed. It’s a miracle we survived. And in no time we were trapped here.”

“And you built an underground city.” There was astonishment in his voice.

“It’s not that big, and the tunnels were already part of this planet, we just repurposed them for our convenience.”

“How many of you live here?”

David appeared lost in a faraway thought. “There were more than twenty of us in the original group. Some had already gone away, joining a fleeing ship. Some… well, let’s just say they had tried an escape route that did not turn out to be the best choice. There’s just a few of us left now.”

“Why didn’t you leave?” Killian was curious to know what kept the other man tied to this lost land.

“I contemplated the possibility a couple of times. But at the beginning it was chaos, people needed a leader. Someone who took responsibility for organizing things down here.”

“You?”

“I was their leader on our home planet.” David answered, and Killian studied the man in front of him, his stance, the way he always looked straight into the eyes of his interlocutor. He exuded confidence and Killian had no trouble imagining him as a charismatic manager or even a king. But when he was about to ask, the other man went on. “When things started to run by themselves, I considered going somewhere else, but well, you can imagine, we don’t receive many visitors.”

“So if the opportunity arises to leave now, you will take it on the fly?”

“I don't know,” David shook his head, “but I would certainly think about it.”

Killian spent some time choosing pieces from the shelves. When he felt satisfied with his choices, he said “I think I have everything I need.”

David nodded and they made their way back to the ship. Killian was eager to get started on the repairs, the other man said he had some tasks to do and would be back to pick him up in a few hours, so Killian found himself alone in the hangar. But that was no problem, he loved devoting sweat and tears to his ship, and fixing it was for him like healing the wounds of a close friend.

Time flew by when he was with his lady, and when David returned, Killian was covered in grease and oil stains. “I’ve just talked to Mary Margaret”, the blonde man stated, “dinner should be ready soon, we better go home.”

A few corridors and passages down, David stopped in front of a double door. He seemed to ponder something, but in the end, he said “Let me show you something.”

Behind that door there was one of the most amazing things Killian had ever seen. A greenhouse. The man remembered when Henry mentioned it. Now he understood why the boy was so enthusiastic about it.

The place was enormous. Plants and trees of all kinds and species grew in full bloom under an artificial source of bright light and the temperature in the room was slightly wet but pleasant. Scents of different flowers filled the air and Killian recognized some fruits that he had only seen in pictures. He was staring with awe. “Well, this is…”

“Outstanding? Extraordinary?” David finished his sentence. “Yeah. Exactly my thoughts when I found it.”

“What do you mean, found it? Was it already here when you arrived?”

David nodded.

“But how could it be? You said that nobody was living here when you landed. Who is in charge of this place?”

“The place runs all by itself.” Under the astonished look of the other man, David added “Many things are strange on this planet, and I don’t have all the answers.” He shook his head. “I wish I had.”

~·~·~·~

Back home Killian took a quick shower to get rid of all the grease of the engine and when he was redressing with clean clothes, Emma approached him and started to help him with the ointment and fresh bandages for his bruises. They were alone in the upper part of the loft. She was chewing her bottom lip, maybe because she was concentrating on the task, or so he thought, and that’s why he was surprised when she abruptly said “We need to talk.”

He arched a brow. “I’ve found that when a woman says that, I'm rarely in for a pleasant conversation.”

She rolled her eyes. “I want you to know what Sidney Glass told me about New-Tolemac.”

Emma had just finished fixing the last of the gauze, and Killian put a hand on hers stopping her movements. She lifted her gaze, staring into his eyes perplexedly. He nodded, trying to silently tell her that she could trust him with whatever she wanted to reveal.

But the closeness, her hand on his chest, the way she was looking at him, it was too much to bear for Killian. Intense and maybe inappropriate thoughts were forming in his head, and he needed to pay attention to what she was about to say. He took a step back and started to put on a shirt.

Emma sat down at the end of the bed. She was fidgeting, clearly uncomfortable and worried. “The King and Queen of New-Tolemac have joined forces with the Industry.” She blurted.

“Well, that’s a powerful partnership, indeed.” Killian conceded.

“But why? For years they have built and perfected a plan to defeat the Industry, they have been preparing for war. Now they want to be their ally. I don’t understand.” Emma shook her head.

“People often change sides according to their benefits.”

“Yeah. Mr. Glass said they have a common goal. But he didn’t know what that was. Or he didn’t want to reveal it to me.” Emma had been staring at her feet so far. But she frowned and raised her gaze to find his. “I don’t know what to think.”

Killian sat down next to her and covered her hand with his. “What is exactly troubling you?”

“If New-Tolemac doesn’t fear a possible attack of the Industry, maybe they won’t be needing Henry as their heir anymore. So I should be relieved. But if they still need Henry for their future business, they are more powerful now, and finding my son wouldn’t be much of a problem for them.” She shivered. “I’m terrified.” She admitted.

Killian looked sympathetically at her, then he opened his arms and she leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder. “We will protect Henry. Nothing bad will happen to the boy.” He tried to reassure her, and she mentally thanked him for his choice to use the word we.

~·~·~·~

When Emma and Killian went downstairs Henry was immersed in a story. Mary Margaret was putting some things in place on her shelves, which in Killian’s opinion was not at all necessary, as they already seemed in order; he noticed that the boy glanced confused towards the brunette woman but didn't give it too much weight.

David was in the kitchen, browning some vegetables. "You absolutely have to try these," he told his audience, "they don't have all the intense flavor they had on our planet, but, given that they are from a greenhouse, they are not bad at all."

“What was your home planet?” Killian inquired.

“One of the NTH-Confederates.” It was Mary Margaret who answered.

“No way!” Henry had stopped giving attention to his tablet.

“Yes, why? Do you know them?” Was David’s question, while his wife simultaneously asked: "Have you been there?"

“Everybody in the multiverse knows them.” Killian stated. “I traveled a lot, but I never went that far away. Those planets are surrounded by legends and myths.”

“Well, it’s a very tangible and existing myth.” The brunette said with a nostalgic look in her eyes.

“It’s so cool! It has to be a wondrous place.” Henry was as enthusiastic as usual.

“Yeah. Well… I’d like it to be as cool as it used to be.” There was a hint of sadness in David’s voice. Then he shook his head as if he didn't want to indulge in melancholic thoughts. “But, they still have the best fillglow team of the multiverse!”

“What are you talking about?” Killian rhetorically asked.

“Why, The Buttercups, of course!”

“No, no, no.” Killian accentuated it by swinging one finger. “I mean, they are some fine fellows, I won’t argue with that. But The Black Clippers? That’s a team as it ought to be!”

“Oh, come on! The Buttercups have won four major leagues. What did your team win?”

“It’s easy to have the most requested players on the market when you are loaded. My boys, they cut their teeth on the field, they fought to reach where they are. They were not a guaranteed winning team, and look at them now, top end of the MFC table this year. Plus, they play fair.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” David was staring back at the other man, chin raised, one hand on his hip. He might even have looked threatening, were it not for the fact that in his other hand he was brandishing a wooden spoon and wearing an apron that read "the most charming chef in the world".

“Easy guys.” His wife tried to make peace. “Dinner is almost ready, would you like to help set the table?”

They all ate quietly, the boys still talking about sports, but with Mary Margaret's gentle interjection now and then, and some glances at her husband, they didn’t argue much. Emma, instead, was delighted, looking at Killian talking about his favorite team as if he was defending his honor.

When they finished eating, the brunette stood up and said to her husband “David, you should go and do your patrol, while I check at the hospital if they need anything.” Something that Killian had already listened to the previous day, as well just after dinner.

Henry looked at the woman frowning. “Why do you always repeat the same actions, day after day?” He was perplexed.

Killian hummed as if he had the clues to the boy’s puzzle “This is a stuck-track planet, my lad.” he explained to a confused Henry. “I’ve been on some of them when I was young.”

“You say it as if you were an old fellow.” Emma snorted. “What are you, a million years old?”

“It’s more like two hundred.” Was his reply.

And to her surprise, she didn’t detect any hint of a lie. “Are you kidding me?”

Killian was about to reply, but Henry interrupted their banter “What’s a stuck-track planet?”

“It means that time runs differently here.” The man explained. “The days or even weeks we spend on this planet are probably just a couple of minutes back home.”

The boy seemed fascinated by the idea. “Wow! Now I understand why my watch gives almost the same hour, it's not broken, it just moves really slow!”

“Exactly. And it affects people, too.” Killian went on. “They don’t age, or at least not in the way you do on Althea-Seals.” Then he drew near Emma, whispering so that only she could hear him “Stuck-track planets may have given me experience, but as you can see I’ve retained my youthful glow.” He winked at her, who just rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile.

“This is why the days all look the same here.” Henry deduced, who was giving further thought to the subject.

“This is why we follow routines so strictly.” Mary Margaret chimed in. “It helps count the passing of time.”

“Does that mean that you and David aren’t the age you appear, either?” Emma questioned.

The other woman thought about it. “Add twenty years, give or take. But it’s hard to say exactly.”

The married couple excused themselves while heading out of the loft to carry out their duties. Killian and Emma started to put away the remains of the dinner. Henry was probably still eager to know as much as possible about this strange planet and its slow time, but when he stood up with his dirt plate in his hands he couldn’t suppress a yawn. His mother insisted on him going to bed.

~·~·~·~

“Where do those flying rocks around the planet come from?” Killian asked David after he had come back from his patrol.

Henry was already sleeping upstairs, and the three of them were sitting around the table.

“Ahm, it’s not so easy to explain.” The blond man answered.

“Give it a try.” Killian wanted to understand how Vernal-Den worked.

David shook his head. “It’s not that I don’t want to tell you, more than I don’t actually know about it.” He made a pause trying to find better words to explain his point of view. “I would say it’s remotely directed.”

“From where?” Emma asked curiously.

“We don’t know.” This time was Mary Margaret’s turn to answer, who had just entered the loft, back from the hospital, and joined the other adults at the table.

“But I assure you, there’s none else on this planet, apart from the people we know about. And I trust all of them.” David had the urge to defend his friends.

“A couple of people we knew had tried to go outside to search for other forms of life, enemies, whatever... to understand who or what supervises this planet’s activities.” Mary Margaret sighed. “Let’s just say it didn’t end well.”

“But there should be someone else on this planet, defending it.” Killian didn’t comprehend.

“There’s nobody else living here, apart from the people we already know.”

“How can you be so sure?” Emma asked.

“Nobody else uses the greenhouse and its products.” David explained. “Nobody else wastes the energy generated by the planet. It’s just us.”

“But it’s clear that someone really wants to protect this planet from intruders, therefore the rocks. For what purpose?” Killian’s attempt to solve this puzzle only created more questions and doubts.

“Well, the greenhouse could supply oxygen and food for an entire population. I think that someone is interested in keeping this planet as a possible lifeline.”

“A lifeline.” The dark man wondered about it. “Who’s behind this?”

“My theory is just as good as yours.” The blond man shook his head again.

“But you do have a theory.”

“Who’s playing with planets as pawns for his own benefits?” David grimaced.

“You think the Industry is behind this?” Emma almost whispered, as if she was worried that the Industry itself could hear her. She shivered, and Killian put his hand on hers resting on her knee under the table. He was willing to tell her that everything was going to be ok, but he didn’t want to generate indiscreet questions from his hosts.

David shrugged. “Any other ideas?”

“I don’t know. We haven't lived here for a long time. You tell me.” Killian teased.

David looked straight at his guests. “We did some research, with the limited resources we have here, but I assure you it’s nothing we had seen before. What generates all the power needed to maintain the greenhouse and the system that propels the rocks outside the atmosphere … it’s not material, if you understand what I mean.”

Killian passed his bionic hand over his stubble thoughtfully. “Not material.” He repeated. “Antiparticles? But that’s preposterous! A fantasy! You can’t create energy from nothing.”

“Yeah. You would say so. But there’s no other explanation. It’s a power so strong that can create an entirely new world…” David made a pause, and then: “or destroy one.”

“Antiparticles,” Killian repeated, while all his theories were starting to fit in. “So that’s how that vile crocodile annihilates the planets he doesn't need anymore.”

The blond man nodded. “After looting everything the planet has to offer, the Industry injects some of those antiparticles underground. And they disintegrate every last molecular bond and electric impulse until the planet itself implodes.”

“Is that what happened to your planet?” Emma asked Killian even if she didn’t need an actual answer, and then she turned to the couple “Yours as well?”

“We’re not sure about that,” David answered. “From the sources we have, it appears that the NTH-Confederates planets are still alive and kicking, all of them. I think Mr. Gold has other intentions, some obscure interest in them. But I don’t know what it is.”

“Do you miss it? Your home.” Emma inquired. She didn’t miss hers. Life on New-Tolemac when she was a child had not been that bad, she couldn’t complain. But the lack of freedom and the memories of the last events there had left a sour taste and no desire of going back ever.

“Yes. We do.” There was sadness in David’s voice. “Most of the time. But we know that returning there doesn’t necessarily mean that we could go back to our lives. Many things have changed. And I’m not sure I’d like to see how our planet has become.”

“We had to make some difficult decisions before leaving our home. But it was for the best of all.” Mary Margaret sobbed. “It was a long time ago, but it still hurts like the first day.” David put his hand on hers, smiling faintly, trying to give her courage.

“What happened? If it’s not too much to ask.” Killian softly asked.

“We were under attack,” David explained. “We tried to defend ourselves, but the Industry’s power is difficult to overcome. We realized that the only way for us to survive was to abandon our land…”

Mary Margaret stepped in, “We believed that it was the end, that we wouldn’t be able to escape alive.” She sighed loudly “I had just had a baby, and we knew that taking her with us was too risky, it would have been her death sentence.”

“So we contacted a woman who promised us that our daughter would be taken care of, she knew that the King and Queen of a faraway planet were searching for an heir.” David went on telling the story, but his voice wasn’t as steady as he tried to make it. He was still affected by the sad memory as well as his wife. “We wrapped her in a white blanket with a purple ribbon and we gave her the best chance to be the princess she could have never been with us.”

“So you decided to sell her!” Emma shouted.

“What?” - “No!” David and Mary Margaret reacted simultaneously, shaking their heads in bewilderment.

“We never said anything about money.” David pointed out.

“We could have never done anything like that to our child.” Mary Margaret seemed shocked by her guest’s assumption and even a bit outraged.

Emma looked at them with an open mouth, but no sound came out. Then she abruptly stood up and rushed out of the house.

The married couple exchanged a questioning look. “Did I say something wrong?” Mary Margaret asked worriedly.

Killian shook his head. “I should apologize for her behavior. This is a sensitive matter for her. If you would excuse me.” He said standing up and heading to the door.

~·~·~·~

“Are you alright, love?” Killian found Emma sitting on the corridor floor, with her arms around her legs and her face buried in her knees.

He waited for a reply, but it didn’t come. So he sat down next to her. She was crying, her back shuddering.

“Swan…” he tried, but then... “Emma, talk to me.”

She raised her face to look straight at him. Tears rolling down her cheeks. “I have a white blanket with a purple ribbon from when I was a baby! I always had it!” And there was pain in her eyes, but also anger.

It was his time to keep silent. He didn’t know how to react to this new piece of information.

“It’s them!” She exclaimed between sobs. “Those people inside the house are my parents! How am I supposed to look at their faces?”

An immeasurable feeling of protection spread within Killian, but he had to swallow his urge to hug her as if their lives depended on it, because it wasn’t the right time. She was struggling against enough demons, he could not burden her with further emotional matters. “Well, love, if it were me finally finding my parents, I would be very pleased to spend as much time as possible with them, to get the chance to know them and understand who they really are.”

“They sold me! They didn’t want me!” Emma looked at him as if he were an alien. How he could not understand her point of view was beyond her comprehension.

But Killian did understand her, given that he had been sold as a child as well, he knew the feeling, he just didn’t think this was the same case he had lived through. “That’s not what they said in there. They were trying to protect their baby, to give her her best chance to live a life they couldn’t afford for her. And they didn’t seem happy about that decision. I saw regret and what-ifs in their eyes.”

He knew she too noticed the pain in David and Mary Margaret's strangled voices, but he also knew she wasn't ready to admit it. “They are lying.” She hissed.

“Are you sure about that? Henry once told me you have this superpower, that you can detect a lie when you hear it. I had the impression they were being honest while telling their story.”

“But I saw the contract!” She was grasping at straws.

Killian had to take her to a more practical level, something tangible that she could hold on to if she wanted to. “Aye, you saw it. And who exactly signed it?”

“I…” Emma tried to recall a ten-year-old memory, but it wasn’t easy. After all, she had been in shock when she had discovered she wasn't the real daughter of the King and Queen of New-Tolemac. “I don’t know… I mean, I’m pretty sure there were my adoptive parents’ names in the paper, but…”

And that was when Killian realized that he had bought her some time, at least. “So you are not completely sure that they are your parents.”

He saw how her shoulders hunched as she was looking at him with watering pleading eyes and he understood that part of her was yelling to run away from pain and old scars, but another part was whispering that maybe she could finally find that love that only parents can give and that she had never felt in her life.

“You know what? We’re going to go back, and we’re going to spend a few more days with those people. We could even ask them if they would like to come with us on our journey back.”

“But..” She started.

Killian stopped her with the raise of one finger. “If it turns out that they really are your parents, well, you’ll have more time to understand why they decided to abandon you when you were just a baby. And only after that, we’ll choose if we hate them or not. Sounds fair?”

She didn’t move for a few minutes, dwelling on his words, but then she put a hand on his bionic one, and even if she knew he couldn’t feel it, she squeezed it with gratitude. Thank you for bearing this weight with me. She would have liked to say the words, but they didn’t come. She didn’t have the strength to analyze why he was doing this for her. Too many feelings for one night, to face new and unfamiliar ones. “Okay.” was what she finally said.

#cs ff #cs au #Till the Stars Had Run Away #alternative universe - science fiction #space au #my writing

20 notes · View notes

captain-emmajones · 4 years ago

Note

Here’s a Prompt; Emma’s when she comes back from the Underworld without Killian, pre funeral scene, when she realises she’ll never see him again 💔😉

Hello beautiful angel, thank you for the prompt! This is slightly different from what you asked for, but everything did originate from your idea. I hope you’ll like this <3

Big thank you to @snowbellewells who was a real angel and beta’d this and saved all of our eyeballs in the process <3��

Fluff - Angst - Canon Compliant - Ao3 - 2500 words

Summary: This is set at the beginning of season 4 when Killian and Emma start dating and expands until the end of season 5 ... or the times Killian helped Emma make her bed after staying over, and the times he didn’t.

The first time he offers to help her, she is sprawled across her bed like a starfish, as she tries to properly tuck in her freshly-washed fitted sheets.

“Come on guys, you’re making this harder than it needs to be,” she hisses between her teeth, one foot keeping the right corner down while her fingers battle with the left.

“Need a hand love?”

“Thought you were in the bathroom,” she mumbles -- this close from succeeding, this close -- and she doesn’t spin around to face him because the sheets just might escape her and she won’t allow it.

She hears him chuckle behind her back. How dare he be chuckling?

“Aye, well, a man has needs love...But now that I am here, let me help you.”

It’s actually quite funny then, because as she reluctantly raises her chin towards him, ready to tell him that she’s got it covered -- although she has actually broken a sweat over this terrible affair -- well, her eyes meet his and her heart leaps inside her chest just as the fitted sheet bounces back into her face.

Fuck.

Because, see, the thing is the sun is quite a traitor, and it has decided to dabble its most outrageous golden beams into his gentle blue eyes and this absolutely does not stir something weird deep within Emma’s belly -- not at all.

And Emma’s heart tries its best to remain neutral, cold, detached but the only thing it manages to do as Killian Jones offers her a bright smile and a raised eyebrow is to sigh and skip an alarmed beat.

“Y-yeah, sure. Thanks.”

The starfish leaves her natural habitat to stand up and hand him one corner of the white cotton sheets. When his warm palm brushes against hers, playfully, on purpose, she flushes remembering what those fingers did to her the night before.

“There we go, Swan,” he says, casually, as if all of this domesticity is normal and appropriate when her heart is throbbing and threatening to jump out of her ribcage onto the carpeted floor. “I’m actually quite an expert, as you’ll see.”

And because misfortunes never come alone, he has the audacity of gently pressing his lips to her temple and sighing a deep sigh of contentment against her skin, and by that time Emma has completely stopped breathing.

Because the thing is she is fucking terrified.

Later that day, when Killian has ventured out of the apartment, a piece of toast tucked between his teeth, pirate business to attend love, and Emma’s alone with her mother in the kitchen, and her spoon tinkles inside her mug, tinkles and tinkles, Emma wonders aloud:

“Mom, when did dad start helping you make your bed?”

And then it’s quite a scene for the ages because Mary Margaret nearly spits her entire mouthful of tea into Emma’s face, and Emma figures her question might be slightly weird and instantly regrets asking it.

“I’m, I’m…,” Snow White begins, and Snow White is blushing, and Snow White is Emma’s mother and Emma wants to dive into her mug of coffee and possibly drown there. “I mean, I don’t know.” She pauses, winces. “With the Evil Queen, and the sleeping curse, and all of that...your father and I didn’t really get to date, you know…”

Oh, Emma knows. This is all very new and weird to her, the whole dating Captain Hook.

“I see,” Emma replies simply, because Mary Margaret is gazing at her far too intensely and Emma is still contemplating diving into her small mug.

Instead, she stubbornly lowers her gaze and refuses to look back up at her mother, who will not stop staring.

“Why…” Mary Margaret’s voice resonates a few seconds afterwards, “Why are you asking, Emma?”

Emma feels her hair stand on hand.

“No, you know, just wondering…”

The next time he sleeps over, her parents are downstairs when they wake up. Emma feels like she is sixteen and she’s just had her first boyfriend at home, and while it is obviously inconvenient, a part of her cannot help but shriek (very silently) of happiness because this is is silly and dumb and it’s hers.

“Alright. Just stay here, I’ll go grab us some coffee.”

When she climbs back up, cold, morning air greets her and curls around her bare legs. But Emma cannot bring herself to complain. In fact, she can barely bring herself to form any coherent thoughts.

Because, see, the thing is Killian Jones -- her boyfriend, as we’ve mentioned before -- has opened wide the windows and is currently on all fours, busy fluffing her pillow, on top of her already tightly made bed.

Emma blinks, swallows, tries her best to contain the panic birthing inside her throat, ready to roar out of her mouth.

It’s just Killian. It’s just him. It’s just him.

Although her legs seem to burn with the urge to run, flee, disappear, she breathes in deeply, it’s just us, forces a smile on her face and clears her throat to signal her presence.

All it takes to quiet down the voices are his eyes gazing into hers as he turns his face.

And she says, “You didn’t have to make the bed”, but she means something else, something that she isn’t ready to voice, that she is terrified to even think.

And he smiles back at her, rolling back to her side, and she can tell in his “Don’t worry about it, love,” as he springs to his feet and to her lips that he heard it anyway.

As things turn out, Killian makes a far better bed than Emma ever could, and Mary Margaret is quite pleased.

“I have never seen your room so tidy,” she exclaims on delivering a hot cocoa to Emma who is still busy with sheriff files.

Feet propped on her desk, Emma shrugs and scans the room while this silly, little warm bubble of happiness swells inside her chest.

“Well, yeah, Killian always makes sure everything is in order when he--” and abruptly cuts herself.

Emma’s cheeks flush a bright pink then, what the hell was she about to say? and Mary Margaret’s cough is another poor attempt to hide her grin.

“I see...Well, I’ll leave you to it. Say hi to Killian if you see him tonight.”

Emma means to tell her that she absolutely doesn’t want to talk about her boyfriend with her mother, of all people, and she isn’t sixteen anymore and she shouldn’t feel this embarassed, but instead she just smiles, giggles a bit even, for fuck’s sake, and exhales: “Sure.”

And if she wants to slap her own face with her own two hands afterwards, it’s only because this is new and terrifying and the happiest she’s been in ages.

When she sleeps over on the Jolly Roger, and she wakes up to his side of the bed empty, a good sailor wakes up with the sun love, she tries to make the bed like he does...and fails, miserably.

“For both of our sakes, Swan, please leave the bed to me.”

And she wants to be mad, fists on hips, but instead a rare, childlike laughter rattles her ribs as she pounces on top of him and they both land onto the bed.

“What’s the point of having a neatly made bed if we’re going to mess it up anyway?” she grins against his lips, and then kisses him more, and more. She cannot get enough of his kisses.

He chuckles, too. It’s a wonderful sound.

“Point taken, Swan.”

And as she backs away to slowly delve into his eyes, Emma thinks she might need to hear it for the rest of her life, or else she might wither like the poets do.

(When he leaves, she doesn’t wither like the poets do. Emma figures she should have known, should have known that the metaphor was far too delicate and gentle, should have known that death would be fire and ashes and void -- oh, so much void, where he used to live in her heart.

When he leaves, she burns, she breaks, she collapses to the ground in a deafening bang, but she most absolutely does not wither.)

The first time, it is a parallel universe and it doesn’t count, it isn’t real, and she gets to hold him a few hours later, and squeeze him, as hard as she can, against her heart, and she doesn’t say it, then.

Although his smile weakens he lets her love him this way -- with her fragile, imperfect, scarred fingers that tremble even as she brushes his cheeks.

She doesn’t know how else to love him.

(He also loses her, that night. She tends to forget it. That she isn’t the only one bleeding, that he also lost his love when she took on the darkness in a flash of light. He also lost her.)

In Camelot, they share a room.

Although Dark Ones do not sleep she remains by his side most nights, and she watches him.

As the moon and the stars illuminate his skin, trace the shape of his face and dust his cheeks of constellations, she thinks about the time he died, only it wasn’t real but it could have been, and she thinks about how precious he is to her and that death should not be able to touch love, death should remain very far and hidden from her because god knows what she’ll do to keep him by her side.

She brushes a stubborn strand of hair from his forehead and brushes her lips against his warm skin, once, twice, thrice. I love you. I love you. I love you. In his slumber, he smiles.

She loves him. It is the only light in her darkness.

The second time, he lays asleep in a middlemist flower field. She doesn't let him sleep. She wakes him up.

He hates her for it. No one likes to be awoken in the middle of the night, in the middle of an eternal, ghastly night.

When Emma is alone in this big, enormous house, she is quite thankful Dark Ones do not need sleep. She doesn’t have to make the bed. But she does stare at it, the bed where they should be both lying down, curled up together, warm and comfortable and happy.

She stares at it and she remembers his sleepy smile under the golden morning light, not two months ago, she remembers his blue eyes disappearing, one instant, behind yellow sheets that danced in the air between them, she remembers how much love she had seen in his eyes and how much it had frightened her.

She isn’t afraid anymore. Her fingers have stopped shaking.

She only hopes she isn’t too late.

(She is, of course, she is but that will take some time to sink in.)

The third time, she sleeps on the couch, warm fingers against the cold silver of the ring he gave her.

“The Dark One is immortal. Emma isn’t. Bring her home to me.”

Her heart pounds inside her chest for the first time in weeks and it bumps against her ribs, it rattles, it begs, it cries: what is the point anymore? What is the point?

She sleeps on the couch.

It would be too much to withstand to wake up in her bed and forget that he is gone, stretch a hand and not meet his, stretch a leg and only find void, nothing, and remember it all, suddenly -- and stretch the bed cover and find her muscles sore and lonely and how the hell did she manage to do that alone?

She sleeps on the couch.

Until she stands up and decides Orpheus was right and strides to fetch him from Hell.

Is she meant to turn around, and lose him forever? Is there no other ending?

It can’t be. It can’t be, not when his skin still tastes like his skin, and his eyes are still blue and real and he is here with her, and they are going to make it out of there alive, together.

Orpheus failed. She won’t.

She does.

She fails. Again.

She leaves him behind. And when she turns around, her father’s fingers clutched around hers, tugging, tugging, Emma we have to go, she doesn’t even get to see him one last time.

She swallows broken pieces of glass and happy endings and true love, and she suffocates because it is the fourth time and she cannot breathe and this cannot possibly be the end, they deserve time, more time --

-- We already got more time than we were ever meant to.

The day she buries him, she’s staring at her unmade bed when, for the first time, she realizes, understands, that there will be no getting him back this time.

That his warm fingers will not close over her knuckles, his stubborn little sigh, as he mumbles not like this Swan, you have to really tug, just like that…

Her fingers will forever remain stretched, ready to grasp, hold, treasure... but there is nothing left to reach.

Tears burn her eyes as she stares at the stubborn piece of fabric in her hands that will not be properly tucked in.

A breath, a sigh, a sob shaking her spine.

She should have paid attention when he was explaining. Should have remembered the steps. Instead, she stared at him and his mouth and his eyelashes in this golden light and thought she would have him forever.

She thought they would have their happily ever after, so why bother with making a bed?

But now he is gone and she is unable to make the bed like he does, used to -- oh god, will this ever get easier? -- and her fingers have nowhere to hold anymore, nowhere to reach, nowhere to be.

It does. It gets easier.

As things turn out, Fate has other plans than death for Killian Jones.

Emma is forever grateful.

(Their nights are still haunted by terror and grief, but that’s quite alright.

Because, see, every morning, no matter the stormy night they just spent, no matter the nightmares and cries and screams, well every morning they make the bed together, and Emma actually pays attention when he explains, she’s learned her lesson, and they get to face the rest of their lives together.)

#cs ff #cs fanfics #captain swan #amy writes #my stuff #killiansprincss #im sorry i'm taking forever on those prompts but im trying :'))#much loove xxxx

64 notes · View notes

ohmightydevviepuu · 4 years ago

Text

the last test and proof / part six

and here our journey ends. to @profdanglaisstuff. thank you.

@thisonesatellite @katie-dub @shireness-says @carpedzem @kmomof4 @optomisticgirl @spartanguard @karl0ta @mariakov81 @klynn-stormz @therealstartraveller776 @captain-emmajones

Things Emma and Hook Haven’t Talked About Yet:

1 - Neal 2 - The time she’d left him with a giant 3 - The time he’d left her in a cell 4 - Milah 5 - True. Love’s. Kiss.

True. Love's. Kiss.

But it wasn’t that easy.

It couldn’t be that easy.

Could it?

Emma walked from the bar to the B&B because--somehow--even with the ship right there, the Jolly Roger, his home for centuries, he usually stayed in the room Granny had given him. He said he liked the indoor plumbing but--but--that wasn’t the truth, was it?

Killian opened the door before she even knocked.

“Hi,” she said.

The truth was, it was closer to her parents. To Henry. It was warmer when she got cold at night--easier to get coffee and pancakes in the morning--grilled cheese for dinner. He leaned his cheek against the door, his hand above his forehead. “Hello,” he said, and smiled. He really was unfairly good-looking with his stupid eyes and his stupid smile and how suddenly it didn’t seem so dark in the hallway of the B&B at 2am anymore. They did the thing--where they stared at each other, Emma drinking in the sight of his bare chest under his black bathrobe, the soft sweatpants--until, finally, he shifted his head and Emma took a goddamn breath and said, “We need to talk.”

Because this was it, this was the conversation they hadn’t been having since the beginning--since the beanstalk, maybe--and everything that came next would stem from this, right here, right now.

Killian knew it, too; just for a second his face froze and his jaw muscle throbbed and then he moved his hand to the back of his neck and ran it through his hair. “Aye,” he said. “I suppose we do, at that.” He pulled the door the rest of the way open and Emma stepped over the threshold and grabbed him, wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him until both of them were out of breath.

He laughed and it was shaky, he was shaky as she pushed him farther into the room, walking backward until he backed up against the loveseat. Emma pressed on his shoulders and he sat down, obedient, watched her as she pulled at the sleeves of her jacket and let it fall to the floor, watched her as the put her hands to his chest and lowered herself so that she was on the seat with him, her knees bracketing his hops, one of his hands at her thigh and his hook flipping the hair away from her shoulder. She pushed the black bathrobe away from his bare chest, the foreheads touched and when their eyes met again there was a question in them and he kissed her--gently--softly--searching for answers.

When he finally pulled away, Emma touched her lips; her eyes never left his as her hand brushed against her wrist and the corded leather laces she wore there. “When I moved to Storybrooke,” she said, “of course I didn’t believe the stories Henry told, you know, princes and princesses and curses. But I also--I didn’t believe in much of anything. Happy endings. Love. Myself. And there was this guy, he--” Emma took a deep breath “--I think I could have, with him, you know? Felt something. For the first time since Neal left me.”

Killian’s hand moved to her temple as he caressed her cheek and she leaned into him.

“He left me in prison, Killian. Pregnant. And I couldn’t be--I felt like the only thing I could do was give Henry up, give him his best chance. And I was broken. I was broken for a long time after that. When Graham--died--I thought I would just be broken, you know, forever. It’s easier to feel nothing when what you’re feeling just plain sucks. And then I met you.”

His hand lowered.

“I hated you,” she said, and Killian laughed, a small thing that was barely a sound. “You were just so--” Emma made a face.

“You can say it,” he said. “Devilishly handsome.”

“That too,” she muttered. “But I felt something. Right from the start, even though all I could see were the reasons why not until the curse came for us and I knew. I knew I couldn’t lose you. I couldn’t.” She ran her hand through his hair, rested her arm on his shoulder and stroked the back of his neck. “I love you.”

His intake of breath was sharp and audible, his eyes wide, his mouth slightly open.

“I learned something a long time ago,” she continued. “That there’s this feeling you get, like, you just can’t outrun it, and that’s how you know you have a home. When you leave it, you just miss it. That’s how I felt at the town line, Killian. I missed--” the pad of his thumb traced the crease under her eye, chasing a tear “--I missed you.”

His hand lowered slowly, back to her knee. His hook anchored against her hip when he said, “Don’t take this the wrong way, love, but I’m glad to you got your heart broken. That’s how you know it still works. And I knew, Swan--I knew since you left me on that beanstalk that I could--” she cupped his face with her hands “--and I hated you, too. For making me feel. I hadn’t felt anything in a very long time.”

Killian tried to look away, but Emma wouldn’t let him.

“I knew how I felt about you in Neverland,” he said. “Since--”

The Other Kiss.

“Or I thought I did,” he said. “But True Love is the rarest magic of all and I--”

“Shhh,” Emma said, leaning forward until their foreheads were touching again. Because--now, now, they were on the same page.

“Sometimes I still doubt it,” he said. “That you’re here. That we’re here.”

“I know it’s scary,” Emma said. “I’m still scared, too. Every day. But we’re going to find a way.”

This time, when he kissed her, it wasn’t soft or gentle, as his mouth trailed down toward her collarbone, as his hand went to the curve of her breast before tracing a line down the length of her middle, his hook cool and smooth as it slid under the hem of her shirt.

“You believe in me,” she said, a whisper into his skin. An exhalation, a release of tension and fear and doubt, and when she breathed again it was full of him, of the scent of him and the nearness of him.

“And you give me hope,” he said, twisting his body and hers so that she was on her back on the loveseat, their bodies flush from her chest to her knees. Emma closed her eyes, letting the moment fill her, letting everything else disappear--let it all fall away except him. She threaded her fingers through his hair and he said, “How about we try for some real magic?”

When he touched her and Emma felt the magic there, white-hot silver in her veins, she let it envelop her, envelop them; opened her eyes and felt his chuckle as he reached for her, helping her pull off her shirt as the weight of him, of them, sank into the mattress. His arms wrapped around her and he was insatiable, all of the hunger of that first burning kiss blazing back to life in the darkness as if he could swallow her whole. Emma pulled off her tank top and his eyes glittered, a wicked gleam as he watched her, followed her hands as she unbuttoned her jeans and slid out of them.

They were together, completely, and with the friction between them Emma could feel the last knot of loneliness releasing, coming loose as he watched her; he fucked her with his hand and his mouth and his eyes, watched her and called for her until she shattered and came and came and came and his name was on her hips as he made love to her and whispered in her ear, “I love you.”

And it was just--so easy.

Like home.

“For one human being to love another; that is perhaps the most difficult of all our tasks, the ultimate, the last test and proof, the work for which all other work is but preparation. I hold this to be the highest task for a bond between two people: that each protects the solitude of the other. This is the miracle that happens every time to those who really love: the more they give, the more they possess.”

Rainer Maria Rilke Letters to a Young Poet

#cs fic #3b divergence #no curse renaissance #the dev collective

57 notes · View notes

killiansprincss · 4 years ago

Text

We Found Wonderland

Summary: Trapped in the past after the S3 finale, Killian and Emma are forced to fade into the background as a newly married couple in a village while Rumplestilskin works on the portal to send them back to the future. (No Marian) What challenges will they face, after all it’s only pretending to be married after all right? Inspired by Taylor Swift ‘Wonderland’

Due to tumblr word limit I’ve had to post this in 2 parts, find part 1 here

Also on AO3

“It was so lovely to meet you Emma, I love that I finally get to see the woman who keeps Killian on his toes. I hope we can do this again sometime.” Cassian says.

“Good luck with your child, I can see he or she will be brought into a loving house.” Emma tells them as they leave, not even looking in Killians direction.

____

“What the fuck was that all about back there?” Emma practically screams as they enter their home.

“What do you mean love?” Killian asks dumbfounded,

“Don’t play dumb with me Hook. The proposal story.” She uses his moniker, she’s angry with him, she’s pissed off.

“Touching didn’t you think? Really brought a tear to their eyes.” He smirks, he knows he’s winding her up but he doesn’t care.

“You want to know what I think? I think someone’s getting a little too comfortable in this life, you know pretending to be married and all. I think someone is forgetting. We are not actually married! We are not from here, we do not belong here. You’re in love with me but I’m sorry, I don’t feel the same.”

“You want the truth Swan?” Killian said through gritted teeth. “Fine. Yes I am getting comfortable with this life, for once you’re not always yelling at me when I’m trying to help. I won't lie and say I don’t enjoy you flirting with me for once instead of it always being me. And I don’t believe for a second my feelings for you are one sided.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Emma asks, the anger building up inside her.

Killian scoffs. “You know what I mean. When we were getting your parents together, at the ball. You looked at me different that night, like you were seeing a new side to me. You could’ve said something when we danced together over and over, but you didn’t. You got closer and closer to me over those 2 days, and when I rescued you from that blasted prison you acted like we were lovers and they didn’t question it. Ever since we found out we were stuck you’ve only been flirting with me more and more.”

“Because we are technically married. And it’s not flirting. It’s-“ Emma begins.

Killian moves closer, closing the gap between the two. She can practically feel his heartbeat as he looks into her eyes, “it’s what? Because I think you’re trying to ignore that gut feeling that you feel something for me. You don’t want to admit how you truly feel. What I feel. I’m not an idiot, you kissed me back in Neverland for a reason, and you felt something as I did. Bloody hell, I gave up everything for you Emma, I traded my ship to Blackbeard to get a magic bean to find you in New York even though you had no idea who I was. I-I” he couldn’t quite finish his sentence.

“You did what? Your ship?” Emma’s tone suddenly changes, “as in the Jolly Roger?”

Killian nods. “Aye. It was the only thing worth a magic bean.”

“You traded your ship for me?” She asks, still in shock. Nobody had done that for her before, he literally gave up his home for her. Everything he had. And she was a bitch to him.

Killian just nods. “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t think it important.”

His ship. His home. Killian traded his home to find Emma. She had no idea who he was, he didn’t know if the memory potion would even work, but he did it anyway. He came and found her, brought her home.

Instead of saying anything Emma takes another step towards Killian closing the already small gap between them and captures his lips with hers.

They both didn’t know how much they had been longing for this, it was similar to their first kiss back in the Neverland jungle, hot and fiery. It’s filled with passion and wanting. Killian breaks the kiss for just a second to move positions and when his lips are back on Emma’s small moans escape. For in this moment, in this kiss, nothing else mattered. They forgot about their argument, about the angry screams and cusses from before. All that mattered was each other and that they were together now.

Emma wraps her legs around a Killians waist as he leads them over to the bed. Suddenly only having one bed and having to share didn't seem like such a problem.

The moans escaping from each other’s lips were getting more frequent and louder with each kiss. These enchanted forest clothes were a lot harder to remove than modern ones, but Killian was happy to oblige the removal of the dress.

“God's you’re beautiful.” Killain says taking in the sight of the almost naked Emma.

“Just shut up and kiss me.” Emma tells him. She wants him, she needs him.

Killian happily obliges, kissing her lips and her cheek and her neck leaving marks that will need covering up tomorrow. He sucks on her neck and leaves hot kisses down from her neck down her body, paying close attention to her breasts and then her stomach and inner thighs causing her back to arch and more moans start to escape.

“Killian I need you please.” Emma pleads, she wanted him.

“You’re sure?”

“Yes please. Please.”

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

After that night of pleasure, they never had to argue over the bed or awkwardly untangle themselves in the mornings. The next few months are spent exploring each other’s bodies every night, and finding out new things about each other every day.

Their relationship took a turn from pretending to be real and pretending to be in love, to not being so pretend anymore. They fell into the routine of a happily married couple.

There was also something else magical about that night. It seemed Emma’s magic had returned. Sparks flew that night in one way or another. It was electrifying.

___

“Hmm something smells good.” Emma says as she walks through the door after another horrible day at work.

Killian comes out from around the corner and presses a kiss to her lips.”I’m glad you’re home. I made you a surprise for dinner.”

“You know I hate surprises.” She whines

Killian chuckles, “I promise you are going to love this surprise.”

Emma sits down at the table as Killian puts a blindfold on his ‘wife’. “Whatever this is it smells good.”

Killian removes the blindfold as he pieces the plate of food in front of her,

“Is this?” Emma asks as she sees what seems to be a grilled cheese in front of her.

“My attempt at an Enchanted Forest Grilled Cheese. I went to the market and got the finest bread and the best cheese imported from Agrabah. I then made it into a sandwich and heated it up. I couldn’t figure out how to make the onion rings, which you so enjoy too, but this is the best I could do.”

“You did this for me?” Emma is shocked that he did this for her, he didn’t have to, but he did.

“I know you’re missing home, I can’t go to Granny herself and ask her to make you one, but this is the next best thing.” Killian gives her a smile. It wasn’t to get points or anything, he did it because he was really enjoying their time together but she was always talking about Stortybrooke, so he thought he’d bring a little bit of it to their home.

“Oh.My. God. This is incredible.”she says as she takes a bite “I love you.”

Realising what she just said, they’re both taken aback.

“Slip of though don’t worry I’ll pretend you didn’t say it.” He says awkwardly scratching behind his ear, a sad tone in his voice.

“No. No, I meant it. Sure it was a slip of the tongue but I don’t regret saying it. Killian, I love you.” She finally admits. “I didn’t admit how I was feeling for the longest time, but you stayed with me and helped me through it all. You didn’t have to come find me in New York but you did, you didn’t have to help me make sure my parents met but you did. You even became my fake husband so that we can slip through the cracks until we can go home.”

Her walls were slowly coming down each day she spent with Killian. He wasn’t running away, and Emma didn’t want to run when it all became real either. And for each wall he crashed through, she didn’t feel the need to build another.

“Gods I’m so pleased to hear you say that Swan.” Killian grabs her by the waist and spins her around, releasing laughter from Emma. “I love you too Emma. So much.”

_____

So we went on our way

Too in love to think straight

All alone, or so it seemed

But there were strangers watching

And whispers turned to talking

And talking turned to screams

Emma and Killian had been in the Enchanted Forest for around 10 months, hopefully Rumplestilskin would keep his word and have the portal so that they could go back to their world in 2 months time.

10 months in the Enchanted Forest, and Emma was still not used to the clothes or the food. Cassian and Maeve had invited them round a few more times, and this time they didn't need to lie about their relationship or their feelings as much anymore. The two of them had welcomed a baby girl, and Maeve had returned to work at the tavern, so at least Emma was no longer alone in battling off the creepy men.

Although, Emma couldn’t completely control her magic so there were times it spiraled out of control and she had hoped nobody would notice it was her. There was one time she was pouring drinks, it was a really busy shift, and she accidentally made the barrels explode and beer went everywhere. It took a lot of effort not to laugh at the beer that practically drenched the guy that had been trying to touch her up all shift.

“This happens all the time, don’t worry about it.” Maeve tells Emma as she grabs a rag to start cleaning up.

Phew. She got away with it. For now.

Except it kept happening.

Emma didn’t know why or what was happening, but her magic was uncontrollable.

“It’s happening again, I don’t know what to do.” She confides in Killian. She knows he will want to help, and not just because it will keep their secret safe.

Killian trusts her, he knows her magic is never intended to harm anybody. “Why does it keep happening at work, you don’t seem to have outbursts at home.”

“I feel safe at home.” Emma admits. “When I’m with you, I feel safe, I can pretend it’s just us and the rest of the world doesn’t exist. When I’m at work I get nervous because you’re not there and I have to do it all alone, keep up appearances. You’re so much better at it than I am.”

“I have something for you then.” Killian says as he pulls a chain from around his neck, with a cool silver ring attached.

“Wow, wow wow.” Emma’s heart suddenly starts to race, she loved Killian, but if this ring was his way of proposing they were moving way too quickly.

“Calm down Swan, I’m not proposing.” He realises he should have led with that before pulling out a ring. “You know I’m a survivor, and this ring is why. It belonged to my brother, a better man than I am. It’s kept me safe all these years, and now it’s going to keep you safe. At the very least it’s a reminder that you’ve got a smouldering piercing eyed pirate at home who loves you.”

She kisses him and smiles. Her smile is so bright, nobody has ever cared or loved her the way Killian does, and it’s kind of scary, but Killian hasn’t left her, he stuck by her and she’s slowly realising that being in love, especially with Killian, is nothing to be afraid of. “I love you too.”

Now when she was at work and felt her magic or became overwhelmed, she would hold the ring on the chain, and breathe. She would think of Killian and how they would be going home soon.

______

For the first couple weeks after clinging to the ring, Emma was fine. Her magic did become slightly overwhelming but she took the ring and held it for a few seconds, thought of Killain, and she was fine.

But then their story started getting poked at.

“Where did you say you came from again?” A girl at work would ask.

“Crestbourne, just north of here.” Emma says, hoping the subject will change soon.

“Crestborune? Isn’t that South?”

Emma plays dumb, “Right, I meant South. Sorry my head is spinning today, too much rum after work last night,”

Killian experienced the same thing.

“You say you were in the Royal Navy Jones?” Someone at work would ask.

“Aye, me and my brother. Under King Elijah.”

“Only because I have a friend currently in King Elijah’s army, and he hadn’t heard of a Jones in that army for over a hundred years.”

Killian didn’t know what to say, he didn’t expect to be caught out like this. So he just laughs and says, “Well I guess I didn’t make much of an impact if nobody remembers me.” It’s the best he can do.

That night at home, Emma and Killian discuss their situation.

“What do we do? Go back to Rumple? Work for him for the next 2 months?” Emma suggests, despite the fact that she doesn’t want to do this, maybe they had no choice.

“No. Absolutely not. I still don’t trust the Crocodile. If we go to him now before the Portals is ready- who knows what he’ll do with us?” Killian had every right to be afraid, especially as this Rumpelstiltskin was not the Mr. Gold they could threaten in Storybrooke.

Emma was worried, how much longer could this go on? “Then what do you plan we do?”

Killian takes Emma’s hand and pulls her in for a kiss. “We’ve come this far together. As long as we stick together, we can wager any more storms that come our way.”

Emma can’t help but smile at his sea analogies. But he was right, they had survived ten months together without any complications, they just needed to survive 2 more. As long as they were together, they could do this.

____

The next day Emma heads to work with Maeve, they both have an afternoon shift and she appreciated the company. Poor Maeve is working 3 days at the tavern and 4 days at the market. She and Cassian can barely afford clothes for their baby girl who is growing every day. Emma wishes she could tell her that it gets better, and that soon she hopefully wouldn’t have these problems. She’s pretty sure all jobs in Storybrooke pay a decent living wage.

“What’s happening up there?” Emma asks Maeve as they see a crowd start to form outside the tavern.

“I’m not sure.” Maeve looks equally as confused as they approach the growing crowd.

“WITCHES! BURN THE WITCHES!” They hear.

Oh no. No. This was not good.

This wasn’t like Storybrooke, people didn’t always accept magic here. And if they found out about Emma, who knows what they would do to her.

“I know there’s a witch here. Strange things have been happening, I know magic when I see it.” A man with a pitchfork says. Emma recognises him as a regular. A regular who likes to touch the girls that work there.

Emma’s heart is suddenly racing. Last night she made the barrels explode again. She tried to think of Killian and his ring, but she heard the name ‘Henry’ and her emotions, and therefore her magic was spiralling. The lights flickered before they cut out immediately and goblets started to shatter-despite being made of a heavy duty material.

Maeve looks at Emma, “Go. Go now before they find you.

Emma gives her a confused look, “what do you mean?”

In a quiet voice, she tells her, “I know you have magic. I see it, but you can’t control it. You would never use it to hurt anybody, but they don’t know that. Go now, escape while you still can.”

Emma gives Maeve a hug, “Thank you.”

“I know you don’t belong here. So I hope you can get back to wherever it is.” Maeve whispers.

Emma nods, Maeve was smart. “Things will get better. I promise.” Before she runs away back to their home.

Bursting through the door, she sees Killian taking a nap, he’d been working a lot more shifts lately, in his attempt to slip through the cracks.

“Killian! Wake up! Killain! We need to get out of here. They know. We need to find Rumple. I don’t care that it's only been 10 months. I need to be safe. I can’t do this anymore.” She’s rambling, Killian can’t understand what she’s saying.

“Swan calm down. What’s going on?” Killian asks, in his half sleep state.

Emma takes a deep breath and explains the Witch Hunt going on outside the tavern and how Maeve knows she has magic, and has given her a head start.

“THE WITCH LIVES HERE! I'VE SEEN IT!”

Suddenly there’s a pounding on their door. Emma and Killian look at one another. “Swan if you have a way of getting us out by magic, do it now.”

The door breaks down and there’s a crowd of angry villagers with pitchforks and spires, “There’s the witch, I’ve seen sparks and white fog coming from their house time and time again. She’s practising magic.”

“Killian I can’t control it, I don’t know how to get us out.” Emma whispers, panic setting in, her fists are glowing, letting the angry villagers know they’re right about their assumptions.

“Swan. Look at me.” Killian says, using his one hand to turn Emma’s face to his.”Your magic is inside of you. I understand you can’t control it, but I’ve seen you do it before. You can do this, I believe in you.”

Emma takes Killians hand in hers and thinks hard about what she wants. She wants to get home to their family. Killian has been by her side through it all, he’s been her rock, she thinks of his ring and how much she loves him. She feels her power, and focuses on escaping.

Her fists glow brighter, and a second later they disappear in a puff of white smoke, and appear into the great hall of Rumple's Castle.

Emma opens her eyes to see the results of her first time really using her magic.

“You did it Swan!” Killian wraps his arms around her. “You’re bloody brilliant you know that!”

Emma breathes a sigh of relief as she hugs Killian. She did it, she actually did it.

“You wield in magic. I’m impressed.” Rumples' voice tears them from each other’s thoughts about what just happened.

“The villagers found out about us lying. And we were at the centre of a witch hunt. Is there any way the portal can be ready early?” Emma is practically begging, which she never thought she would. This Rumple was far less likely to help them than Gold.

The Dark One just laughs. “Oh I haven’t been working on the portal.”

“Please tell me this is a joke.” Killian half laughs, hoping it wasn’t true.

Rumple raises his eyebrows, “I don’t joke. I’ve been working on a memory potion for myself. I already know too much about the future, can’t know anymore.”

Pressing her lips together to stop her from wringing her hands around his neck, Emma simply asks, “so how do we get home?”

“With this.” He says as a wand poofs into his hand.

“I don’t understand.”

Rumple rolls his eyes at Emma. “You have proven yourself powerful enough these past few months, you are the only one who can replicate the spell that brought you here.”

“So you’re telling me, these past 10 months have been a test? That we didn’t need to make up a fake life and live here?” Killian asks, anger building up.

Rumple laughs. “Of course it was a test! You needed to prove you were powerful enough. And like I said, there was no use for you in my Castle, I already had help.” Emma notices the Castle isn’t as clean as it was 10 months ago, assuming Belle had been captured by Regina by now.

“I’m gonna kill him when we get home.” Emma whispers to herself.

/\/\/\/\

Rumple poofs them into the basement, or the dungeon of his Castle, filled with what was most likely the most dangerous magic and weapons.

The glamour Rumple had put them on had vanished, and they were back in their other clothes, Emma’s leather jacket, her armour was back on and she felt somewhat safe. The wand felt heavy in her hand, it was powerful magic, also likely dark magic if it were able to replicate any spell or curse.

“How do I do this?” She asks Killian.

“You’re the magic one Swan not me.” His tone was cold, what was up with him?

“Are you okay?”

“Fine. Just eager to get home.” He says looking around at the magical objects

Emma lowers the wand and turns to face Killian. “What’s wrong with you?

Avoiding her gaze, he simply says. “Everything changes when we’re home.”

Emma furrows her brow, “What’s changing?” She grabs his hand and forces him to look at her. “Killian, what is going to change?”

“Us, Everything. Your feelings for me. It was nice while it lasted.”

“You think I’m going to leave you when we get back home?” She asks, slightly hurt that he would even think that.

“I’m a Pirate Swan. You think your family of royals and heroes are going to accept me?” Killian was afraid of going home, it wouldn’t just be him and Emma anymore.

“Killian, I love you. And that’s not going away when we get home. I don’t care what my parents think, you have stayed with me all this time. You have a mark in the hero column.” She kisses him, letting him know that while things will be different, things aren’t going to change between them.

As she kisses him, the wand In her hand begins to glow white. Holding Killians hand tight, she raises the wand in the air and thinks of home, and her family.

“You did it Swan.” Killian says, pressing a kiss to the side of her head, looking at the golden shimmering portal which had opened.

“Let’s go home.” She says as she places the wand on the table and grabs Killians hand as they jump into the Portal.

/\/\/\/\

They come through the Portal with a bump. Storybrooke. They’re home.

“We did it! We’re home!” Emma can feel tears coming from her eyes, she didn’t know when she would see home again.

“You did it Swan. You’re bloody amazing.” Killain says picking her up and spinning her around, the same way as when Emma told him she loved him.

“Let’s go. Let’s go find our family.” Killian could almost cry at the way Emma said ‘our’, they may not be married anymore, but she still loved him and they were in this together. Whatever they face next, they face it together.

And so they walk hand in hand to Granny’s to find everyone.

In Storybrooke, only a matter of days had passed, thankfully they hadn’t missed almost a year. But she did miss the official name ceremony of her baby brother, Prince Leo, named after Snow's father.

“So you’re Princess Leia?” Snow asks, as they flick through Henry’s book to find Emma and Killians adventure now in it.

Henry chuckles, “Nice alias Mom!”

“I guess that means you’re finally one of us. A fairytale princess at last.” David says as he muses the picture of Emma and Hook dancing together at the ball.

“So what happened after that? You were there almost a year? What was it like? Did you slay a dragon, or get caught in the ogre war?” Henry asks, wanting to know all about her Enchanted Forest adventure.

Emma rolls her eyes, “Sorry Kid, no dragon slaying or ogres. Gold, or uh Rumple. He wanted to test us, test my magic. So we had to pretend to be a married couple living in a small village out of sight, and I had to work in a tavern for 10 months until my magic returned and I was the focus of a witch hunt.”

“Witch Hunt?”

“Married to Hook?”

Her parents clearly had different reactions to her story.

Emma just laughs, “It was a scary experience all right. But I couldn’t have gotten through it without my ‘husband’. It wasn’t so bad, but I’m so happy to be back at Granny’s, I missed her onion rings.” And she gives Hook a knowing look that causes them both to smile at the memory.

“Wait-are you two?” Henry asks realising the looks and smiles his mother was sharing with Hook.

Emma doesn’t quite know how to react, she wasn’t ashamed, but her family didn't know Killian like she did.

“I’m happy for you Emma. Really.” Snow says, holding out her hands to both Emma and Hook.

“I guess the Pirate isn’t so bad, as long as you don’t hurt her I’m happy.” David fights the urge to say something worse, but in all honesty he was happy for Emma.

“Does this mean Hook can teach me how to sword fight?” Henry asks his grandparents with a grin on his face making Emma smile.

Her family was reunited. She wasn’t alone anymore. She had a family who loved her and wouldn’t leave her. It may have taken time, and a curse, but it was worth it. Henry didn’t bring her to Storybrooke to break some curse, he was bringing her home.

#Captain Swan #cs ff #captain swan fanfic #emma swan #killian jones #my writing

25 notes · View notes

let-it-raines · 5 years ago

Text

Playing the Waiting Game

For years, Emma was told to stay away from pirates and others who did not uphold the integrity of the crown she was raised to represent. Emma was never particularly good at listening, however, and while she can still hear the words of her parents in the recesses of her mind, there’s a louder voice that keeps calling her to one particular pirate captain.

rating: a soft m

found on ao3 | here |

-/-

Birdsong rings out from above her, wings whipping through trees and rustling the leaves, and Emma uses the sounds to keep her own footsteps quiet. There are too many leaves and stray branches scattered on the forest floor, and while she doubts there is anyone else out here when most everyone has work to attend to, she still likes to keep her presence quiet. She’s old enough to know that she’s never truly alone, and lately there seems to be some kind of danger around every corner.

Or, at least, that’s what her father was always telling her.

She was brought up with these never-ending senses of freedom and adventure and hope, and while remnants of those three remain in some of her choices, there are voices in the back of her mind reminding her to be careful with her actions.

And with her heart.

One of those voices is her father. The other is very clearly her mother.

Right now, she’d rather not hear from either of them for once.

After a few minutes of wandering, she finally finds the spot for which she was searching. Beyond the trees but before the cliffs, Emma walks upon a spring with water babbling and then rushing away as it travels to the ocean. It is not salty like the water of the sea, isn’t constantly filled with fisherman and Naval officers and the occasional pirate ship , and she seeks the peace of it and how refreshing it is to bathe without having to listen to the commotion that’s always taking place in the tavern. Emma will be forever thankful for Granny and Ruby for giving her a room and work with good pay, but the simplicity and lawlessness of the place is not what she’s accustomed to.

Well, it is now.

Looking around once more, Emma decides there is no one around, and she shrugs off her cape before working around the buttons at the back of her dress. She doesn’t have on a corset today, can’t be forced into one unless she’s trying to earn more coin at the tavern or at the docks when she sells jewelry with Ruby, but undressing still brings her a sense of freedom and a lightness that couldn’t be found for many years.

“That’s the ability to breathe,” Granny always says. “Men take it for granted because they can wear whatever they damn well please, while we have to wear torture devices to keep our waists trim and our breasts high. Bloody ridiculous.”

When Emma’s toes sink into the water, it’s chilled. The month is not yet March, but it’s a particularly sunny day. Emma assumed the waters would be fine, and after a few minutes of shivering, they are. The Summer Isles are never too cold. Misthaven used to freeze every year, frost and snow covering all of the land, and while Emma does miss the snow, she at least doesn’t have to worry about losing her toes to frostbite.

Humming to herself, Emma takes her hair out of its plaits and then wades beneath the water, letting every inch of her long, golden hair soak, before she swims to the shore and reaches over for the lotions she brought with her. This one smells of lavender, and while she knows that Ruby is not fond of the thought of becoming someone’s wife, Emma selfishly wonders if Ruby might marry Graham so that he can continue to bring soaps and lotions to the tavern.

Then again, Emma is sure she could procure these all on her own. She has some coin stashed away, could sell some of her finer dresses and jewels that she managed to bring with her, but doing that seems like erasing her parents.

Their voices pop back up again, such hope and optimism there, and she pushes them away.

Not today, not today, not today.

“If it isn’t Ms. Swan lazing about in the spring.”

Emma’s eyes spring open, and she sinks further into the water while her heart beats an erratic pace. What the hell is he doing here? How did he find her here? How did she not hear him walk over the crunch of the leaves on the ground?

“What are you doing here?” Emma finally manages to ask. He smirks, eyes looking downward, and she crosses her arms over her chest to cover her breasts.

“Well, I was going to endeavor to take a proper bath without being hounded by my crew, but it seems someone is occupying the spring. You’re making a mighty fine show of it, lass.” He raises his hands. “On my honor, I have seen nothing below those delicate shoulders of yours. Wouldn’t be proper.”

Emma rolls her eyes and starts floating toward her things while keeping an eye on him. He’s in nothing but his leathers and a long, dark shirt today that is open enough that it barely covers any of his chest. That’s not unusual, though, and she finds that her eyes linger at the dark patches of hair covering the strong muscle before they move up to the multitude of silver chains around his neck. Finally, though, they settle on the sharp, stubble-covered jaw and the white teeth showing in a smile that always makes her skin pebble up in gooseflesh.

One part of her wants to say that’s in a good way while the other is not so sure.

“Killian Jones, since when are you proper?”

He scoffs and places his hand on his chest, affronted. “I am always a gentleman, milady.”

“If you’re so much of a gentleman, why don’t you turn around and allow me to get dressed.”

“As you wish.”

“And don’t think I’m taking my eyes off of you for a second.”

He twists around and winks, the bastard. “I would despair if you did, but I promise to keep my eyes off of you, which is such a bloody shame.”

She has to bite her tongue. She doesn’t know if it’s to keep from laughing or scolding him, and since she seems to be at war with herself so much, she decides to keep her own mouth shut as she climbs out of the spring and moves to her clothes, pulling her shift down over her before dressing in more complete layers. The clothes cling to her wet skin, and her hair will take ages to brush through, but at least she’s no longer exposed to the elements and to Jones.

She’s not a prude. Really, many around the village would call her a whore because she’s been in a man’s bed before marriage, but she’s not particularly interested in societal norms anymore. But she doesn’t have much of an interest in Killian Jones seeing her in the nude if it’s not on her terms.

Ruby would cheer her on for that thought. Granny would likely tell her to watch herself.

“You can turn around now.”

He makes a show of it, slowly turning and sauntering toward her, and when he’s standing but a few feet away, she gets a glimpse at overly blue eyes that she could swear he managed to steal from the sea.

“You cut quite the figure in that dress, Swan.”

“I’m not wearing a corset.” “I think it is apparent that you need not wear one.”

Emma rolls her eyes and reaches up to start braiding her hair. “So, when did you return to the Isles?”

“A few hours ago. I was planning on bringing the men to the tavern tonight. We had a successful voyage. Figured we all deserved a celebratory drink.” “There are other taverns.”

“Ah, but none with bar wenches as pretty as you.”

This time Emma can’t hold back her laughter, and even with her head tilted back to the sunlight, she knows that he’s smiling.

“I am not a bar wench, and you are not courting me.”

“Why ever not, love?” he asks with a wink. Even then, though, he steps closer to her, and she allows him to place his hand and his hook on her hip. This isn’t unfamiliar territory for them, and she knows herself enough to know that one day she’ll cave. Is it really caving when it’s what she wants? “I could court you. Believe it or not, I was taught how to properly court a woman. I simply believe my way is more thrilling.” “That’s because your way involves rum and sex.” “You forget the gambling.” Emma scoffs, and Killian leans in closer, dipping his head to her neck so that she can feel the softness of his lips and the slight scratch of his beard move against the sensitive cords of her neck.

Fuck, that feels good.

To think that at one time she would have never dared to utter that phrase nearly makes her giggle.

“How could I – however could I forget the gambling?” “Maybe you were distracted,” he teases as his teeth gently bite down before pulling away. Emma gasps before she can stop herself, and Killian’s chuckle is warm against her skin. “I have been told I can be a distracting man.”

“In your dreams.”

“Ah, well, you are indeed in my dreams.”

She allows him to trail his lips against her skin for a few minutes, letting the pleasure rumble over her and settle deep in her belly, but then the voices are back, telling her that she’s better than a pirate, that this isn’t proper.

She never did care much about proper. Why would she now?

“I’ll see you tonight,” Emma whispers as she pulls herself away, heart thumping. Killian’s cheeks are red, his chest heaving, and she knows if she looked down, his trousers would be tight. “I’ll find time to play cards with you, and you can tell me about your journey.”

“Your heart’s desire, Swan.”

And then she’s gathering all of her things and quickly moving away. By the time she’s out of the woods and back inside the perimeters of the village, she smells wood and salt, and she can’t decide if that is from the town or if it’s from Killian.

It’s been months since he’s been back. She doesn’t remember exactly when he left, but she always knows when the Jolly Roger is docked here. The tavern is usually the home to travelers and fisherman, but every few months, each bench and bed are filled with pirates. They may bring in a different type of man, but whenever they leave, Emma’s coin purse is always full from tips and Granny can afford to buy whatever materials she needs for upkeep.

They are all surprisingly well-behaved, but really, if one knows the captain, one knows that isn’t all that surprising at all. The man likes his rum and his card games, mostly because he keeps weighted dice and extra cards up his sleeve, and while a brawl or two does break out, it’s not what Emma thought to expect from a pirate.

“Pirates are no good, sweetheart,” her father once said as he paced back and forth in the library. “They come to our land and they plunder. They have been known to take women and ruin families. They threaten lives for gold. What could possibly be good about a pirate?”

What could be good about a pirate?

A part of her knows, but it’s her parents’ voices and their memory that keeps her from fully falling into finding out.

When she gets back to the tavern, Ruby is sitting in the corner on a bench with Graham, the two of them laughing at some private joke, and they don’t pay any attention to her as she sulks through and slips behind the bar and back into the kitchen where Granny is chopping up a few vegetables while water simmers over the fire.

“We’re going to be busy tonight,” Emma casually tells her, grabbing an apple. “I would get out the rum and whiskey.” Granny turns back to her and rises her brows. “How do you know that?” “I’ve heard a rumor the Jolly Roger is back.”

Granny puts her knife down and places her hands on her hips. “Did you hear a rumor, or have you seen that captain of yours already?”

Emma bites into the apple, and juices run down her face. “He is not mine.”

“Maybe not, but he’s sweet on you.” “And why is that a problem? Graham is being sweet on Ruby out there.”

“Graham is a respectable man.”

Emma opens her mouth to say that she knows for a fact that Graham isn’t quite as respectable with Ruby as Grammy thinks he is, but instead she takes another bite of her apple.

“Look,” Granny sighs, picking up her knife to cut her vegetables again, “you are a mature woman, and you are not my kin. But you also came here five years ago with a chest of expensive goods and not a lick of sense for how to live, so you cannot blame me for caring for you. That man is a sight for sore eyes, and if you want him to warm your bed over the next few weeks, I will not attempt to stop you. When he leaves, however, and he will leave, I don’t want to hear a word of melancholy out of you. Now help me cook dinner and then we’ll prepare for tonight, aye?”

Her parents would definitely be fond of Granny.

Emma helps cook and clean and knead the dough for the bread they’ll bake in the morning, and by the time the night falls and the tavern is lit by nothing more than candle and lantern light, every bench and barstool is full with the excess men leaning against walls and sitting on open window sills that allow the night breeze to waft in. None of them have had a moment to sit down or take a breath from constantly refilling drinks and serving food, and Emma’s feet are starting to ache from constantly standing. She should have had more time to soak them today during her bath, but there’s obviously something to be said about best laid plans being spoiled.

“You have an admirer,” Ruby tells her, nudging her shoulder. “I don’t think he’s been able to keep his eyes off of you all night.” “Yeah, well, we both know I’m his type. Look at all of the women surrounding him. He could easily pretend any of them are me.”

There’s a heaviness in the pit of Emma’s stomach when she looks over at Killian, at the way he commands his table with whatever tale he’s weaving and how the women bat their eyelashes at him and run their fingers over his shoulders.

“You are blind if you think any of them hold a candle to you, my dear. Why don’t you go talk to him, play a round of cards? It’s slowing down. If I need you, I can easily get you.”

“I don’t know, Rubes.”

“Why not? He’s handsome, he’s got a sense of humor, and he’s only ever here for a few weeks at a time. I know you’re not interested in a commitment. What else could you want?”

“I want,” she starts, but then she realizes she doesn’t know what to say. “I don’t know.”

Ruby sighs and turns to Emma, placing her hands on her shoulders and squeezing until Emma looks directly in Ruby’s eyes. “I don’t know who exactly you were before you came here, but I know you’re not someone who lets the opinion of others stop her from having a little fun. So don’t listen to my Granny. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about. And don’t listen to whatever part of you says you can’t be with him because he’s a pirate. It’s just a job, Emma. It’s illegal in some places and not the most clean cut in others, but nearly everyone who walks through here is doing something that’s a little…crooked.” “That’s one way to put it.”

“Go,” Ruby insists with a shake of her head. “Have a good time tonight, and if you hate it, which you won’t, I will not bother you at all. I swear of it.” “I will hold you to your word.” “I know you will.” Ruby moves her hands from Emma’s shoulders and then loosens the laces on the front of her dress, exposing the tops of her breasts. Leave it to Ruby to do that. “Enjoy your night, and if you’re fortunate, your morning too.”

Emma rolls her eyes, but she listens…after she drinks a small glass of rum herself.

Killian isn’t paying her any attention as she shuffles through the tavern and moves to the back of the room where he’s sitting. He’s shuffling a deck of cards with his hand when she walks up while muttering something to the women ogling him, but he does finally look up when she learns over the table.

“What are you boys playing?”

He blinks, slowly, and his lips tick up to the right while his tongue flickers out, running over his bottom lip. It’s a look she’s seen before, but it’s not one she’s allowed herself to fully appreciate it.

That’s a damn shame.

“Smee,” Killian calls out, slamming the cards down, “come and take my place in the game.”

“But Captain – ”

“Smee – ”

“Aye, sir. I will gladly take over.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” Emma chuckles. “I would have played with you.” “You would have lost,” he whispers as he stands and gets nearer to her. “It was rigged.”

Emma clicks her tongue. “I should have known.”

“Later, though, I might shuffle a new deck, and I give you my word that I will not keep any cards up my sleeve.”

“I make no such promise myself.”

He chuckles and dips his head until his lips brush against the shell of her ear. “Would you like to come back to my ship for a nightcap?”

Emma gulps.

“I don’t believe I can leave Ruby and Granny here alone when we have all of your crew.”

“Pity that. Still, have a drink with me. I did promise to tell you about my journeys.”

“That you did.”

They settle at a table in the corner of the tavern beneath one of the few closed windows. Ruby brings them a pitcher of ale and two small glasses, and before she walks away, she winks and makes a gesture that Emma hopes Killian ignored.

Or maybe she hopes that he saw it.

Emma does not know what she wants, truly, but she pushes down those thoughts and then downs a pewter of ale while Killian begins weaving a tale of his adventures. She can tell that he’s leaving parts out, that he’s curating this for her ears, and she tries to piece together the parts he is not sharing. He went to Misthaven, and she wants to know more.

How is it doing?

Are the people happy?

What about the flowers? Were any blooming despite the month?

Is there still a large rock with her name engraved in it sitting on the shore?

But why would he know any of that? He didn’t make the voyage there to quench her curiosity. He went to make a deal with another pirate captain, something about them both coming across an abandoned ship full of goods. She didn’t know pirate captains made deals like that. She thought they simply killed and attacked for what they wanted.

Then again, she’s starting to realize that maybe she doesn’t know anything about him past the rumors and few bits and pieces he’s shared over the years.

And yet she so readily lets him run his lips across her skin and was fully ready to share his bed tonight.

Emma sucks in a deep breath and slowly lets it out. Her heart is far from calm, and she suddenly can’t get enough air.

“Love,” Killian says, his thumb on her chin as he turns her attention back to him. “Are you quite alright, lass?”

Emma nods and swallows before plastering a fake smile on her face as her hand moves from her lap up to Killian’s hook, tracing along the metal. He watches her movements, and she knows she’s distracted him.

“I have a confession to make."

"I find most women do."

“I want to know how you got the hook. You hear so many stories…”

“And what have you heard?” “Nothing that I don’t want to hear from you.”

His brows pinch together, but then he softens them while his lips stretch and she has a view of his pretty white teeth. “An enemy took it from me because he believed I took something of his.”

“Something more important than a hand?”

“More important, aye.” Blue eyes glance away before he leans in closer, his hand pressing down on her thigh. “If we’re sharing secrets, would you like to tell me how you became so educated? Or why your attention on me has increased when I was speaking about Misthaven?”

“I’ve read about it is all,” she lies. “My parents taught me to read. I was fortunate.”

“And where are these parents now? Do they know you’re associating with dirty pirate captains?”

“You bathed earlier.”

Killian tilts his head back with a big, booming laugh, and half of the tavern looks their way before he can contain himself and look directly at her, his eyes piercing. “I bathe quite frequently, but I don’t believe I could win the approval of any woman’s parents. So, where are Mum and Dad, love? Do I have to worry about dear old father want to chop off my other hand?”

“No, no you don’t.” A sob catches in Emma’s throat, and this time she can’t swallow it down. “What’d you take from your enemy?”

“That isn’t important for you to know.” “I want to know.” “Well, it’s none of your bloody business!” He picks up the jug of ale and takes a large swig directly from it, his throat bobbing as he swallows. “I think I best let you get back to work, sweetheart. I’m suddenly not in a mood for a night cap.”

He moves his hand of her thigh and reaches into his pocket before tossing a small purse onto the table. “For your trouble. Have a good night, Swan.”

And then he stands and walks away, coat swishing behind him until he disappears out the tavern door and into the darkness of night.

-/-

When the crew of the Jolly Roger comes into the tavern the next night, Emma lets Ruby deal with the Captain’s table. She feels Killian’s eyes on her the entire night, and she knows they’re a darker shade of blue than they usually are.

‘Tis no matter. If he wants to push her and wants her to talk but she can’t ask him questions, then they’ll stay at this stalemate. He’ll be gone soon enough, and he’ll be nothing but a distant memory until he comes back.

If he comes back.

She doesn’t need to be sharing her bed with him anyhow. It would be momentary pleasure only to be left and disappointed again. If she wants someone to sleep next to at night with no connection, there are plenty of other men in the village. She doesn’t need him.

So Emma lets him come and go as he pleases, serves him when she has to, sells jewelry to his crew on the days she works at the docks, and he seems to be choosing to mind his own business as well.

Good.

Days pass before they turn into weeks, and the sting when Emma sees him has dissipated to nothing but the smallest of aches, and he seems to be coming into the tavern less and less. Ruby and Granny have both mentioned it, but Emma has brushed them off, not wanting or needing to explain any piece of her life to them no matter how good they’ve been to her.

She is allowed her own bits of privacy.

Tonight she is taking that privacy by sweeping the alley outside of the tavern while Ruby, Graham, and Granny work inside. It’s unsurprisingly busy tonight. With spring sweeping in, warm weather has come too, and it has allowed the ocean breeze to settle into the air, leaving a warm salt. There’s no need for cloaks and gloves and several pairs of stockings, and Emma longs for the summer even more now.

“Where are you taking me, Captain?” Emma hears a woman giggle, and she sinks back against the building, her heart pounding as loud as horse hooves. “Are we going to your ship?”

“I’m giving you your coin, you will tell my crew I had a nice time should the question arise, and then you may go and enjoy your night.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“I’m not going to sleep with you, lass,” Killian mutters, his hook flashing in the moonlight. “Have a good night.” “Why don’t you want me to share your bed tonight?”

“My reasons are my own. Question them at your own peril.”

And then he turns and walks away, his boots crunching on the gravel.

Emma can’t quite believe what she’s just seen, and she swallows the ever-present lump in her throat before pushing off the wall and dropping the broom against the door. Her curiosity is going to get the best of her because instead of returning to her work, she follows the sound of Killian’s footsteps and then his shadow as he returns to his ship. She’s likely not welcome, but that doesn’t stop her from watching him bark at a cabin boy before he walks through the doors to his quarters.

She hesitates, lingering on her toes, and maybe she’s being dull tonight, but she quietly sneaks aboard the Jolly, making sure none of the remaining crew spot her, before she follows in Killian’s footsteps and opens the door that will lead her to his cabin.

“Jim, I said I was not to be disturbed!”

“My name is not Jim.”

There’s a clatter and a curse, and when Emma is able to climb off the ladder, she can see Killian picking up a stack of books, still muttering to himself.

At least he isn’t cursing at her. She would deserve it for having walked onto his ship without him knowing.

“What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing here?”

“Curiosity,” she admits, taking in the small room filled with books and a small table, as well as a bed that looks more comfortable than hers at the tavern. He seems to have quite the collection of small goods, and her mind betrays her again by wanting to know where exactly he acquired each of them. “Frustration also. I don’t understand you, Killian Jones.”

“Not many people do. Few know me well enough to, and I don’t have most people call me by my name. Most use my more colorful moniker.”

“I like Killian better.”

He huffs and picks up a pewter cup, placing it on the table next to what looks like a map. Are these his plans for his next adventure?

“What are you frustrated about, Swan? Have I done something else to offend you? Pushed you too much? Gotten under your skin? Or are you here to pester me about my past once more?”

Emma shrugs and sits down at the edge of his bed, running her finger across the blanket. “My parents always warned me about pirates, you know?”

“I imagine most did.” “They said you were all despicable and dangerous and that I should never trust any of you.”

“You shouldn’t.”

She hums, more unconvinced now than ever before. “But there’s this weird thing about you that makes me trust you despite everything in my head telling me not to. Would I be wise to assume that you haven’t been a pirate for your entire life? You noticed that I was educated. I have noticed the same of you. The Navy perhaps? But how does someone who was educated in the Navy become a pirate?”

“How does someone who knows proper grammar and etiquette start work in a tavern? How old are you, Swan?”

“How old are you?”

“Thirty-two as of next month.”

“Twenty-six for me. In October.”

Killian clicks his tongue, and she snaps her head up to look at him. He’s not smiling, but he’s pleased. She can see the mirth in his eyes and the way the corner of his mouth twitches.

“You know,” he sighs, pulling the chair out from under the table. It screeches against the floor and then groans when he sits down. “I heard a rather peculiar tale when I was in Misthaven.”

“Did you?”

“Aye. You see, Misthaven has been under a new ruling for the past few years. It seems the King and Queen were killed while sailing to visit the court in Arendelle. Since the law had not passed for a woman to be able to take the throne without a King, the deceased King’s brother took the throne. It seems the princess had been unwilling to marry her suitor and ran away. It takes a clever lass to avoid that many palace guards.”

Emma nods and picks at a thread in his blanket, pretending not to care too much for his story even as her heart explodes within her chest.

He knows.

She knows that he does, that there’s no way he wouldn’t have figured it out, and maybe she should run away, should try to find some kind shelter. There has to be a reward out for her, and Killian may want it.

But if he did, he would have taken her already? He’s been here for weeks. He would have had his opportunities.

“It’s said she had hair made of gold and eyes made of emeralds, but to me, it almost seems that her hair is the color of sunshine and her eyes are comparable to only the ocean on a summer day. Wouldn’t you agree?”

She finally looks up, her lips parted to refute his assumption, but she finds that the words die on her tongue. Instead, she decides to ask another question entirely.

“How long have you known?”

“Since the moment I heard the tale last October. It was your birthday. They have a celebration in the village square.”

“If you knew how I was educated, why did you pester me about it back in the tavern? How is it fair that you know so much about my life and yet I know none of yours?”

“’Tis not fair. Nothing about life is.” Killian stands from the chair, its legs scraping against the wood again. He shrugs off his coat, his shirt underneath clinging to his muscles before it loosens. She can see the way his shoulders heave, the way he’s taking deep breaths, and he’s still turned away from her when he starts speaking. “I have no interest in reliving my past, but I will tell you these truths for the sake of good form. I was in the Navy until I was eighteen. My brother was killed because of our corrupt king, and I turned to piracy. Sometime later I met a woman who was my first love, but her husband took issue with this. He took my hand and since she wasn’t interested in being with a broken man, she went back to her husband. Is that everything you need to know?”

“Killian – ”

“Don’t,” he sighs, turning around with his face buried in his hand. “I don’t tell any of that for sympathy. I share because I should have ages ago. I don’t enjoy being on unequal footing with a woman I fancy, so the moment I figured out your past, I should have shared mine. It’s only right.”

“Thinking you’re on unequal footing is inane. This is not a game.”

He drops his hand and smiles halfheartedly. “No, I suppose it’s not.”

Neither of them speak next, silence lingering in between the two of them, and she keeps waiting for Killian to break the silence and fill the cabin with words. He doesn’t. And the longer it goes on, the more she thinks that the air gets thicker, heavier even.

The more she wonders how she’s even breathing.

“If you enjoy being on equal footing,” Emma finally begins, standing from the bed and sauntering toward Killian until she’s standing directly under his gaze and can smell the leather from his clothes, “then I must admit that I fancy you as well.”

He blinks, and she knows that the corner of his lips tick up.

Good.

“Aye?”

“Aye,” she whispers before pushing up her toes to glide her lips over his.

Emma has felt Killian’s lips on her before, but never like this. It was always on her skin somewhere, sometimes brief, sometimes not, but she has never actually kissed him. She’s never felt how the softness of his mouth mixes with her own or how his beard would feel rough rubbing against her chin. She’s never felt the warm swipe of his tongue or the way that he knows how to push and pull, how to give and take, and how to keep the pace slow, almost reverent when she was fully intending for this to turn into something that would have a fire burning so brightly in her belly that the entire ship would burn down.

That fire is definitely there, warming her, but she thinks she might be able to contain it if this pace continues.

Then again, this isn’t what she was expecting, and the gentleness of it all might make her lose her footing more than if they were to strip out of their clothes right now.

Killian pulls back first, but he doesn’t stray far. His forehead rests against hers, and his thumb has moves from her hair to her chin, his thumb resting in the indent so that she can feel the roughness of his skin and the cool, smooth texture of the metal making up his ring.

“I imagine your parents wouldn’t be too fond of you kissing a pirate.”

“I imagine not, but at some point, I think they would come around.” She leans into him again, brushing her lips over his as she speaks. “Tell me more about Killian Jones, the man. I’d like to know him outside of the view of everyone in the tavern.” “I’m afraid you won’t find him to be as adventurous.”

“Try me.”

Killian chuckles, kissing her once more, this time quick and dirty and absolutely breath-taking, and for a moment, Emma almost tugs him back into her and pulls him down on the bed, but she’s not ready. Now she knows more about him, now she knows something past the physical frustration and the sexual desire, and she finds that she wants to talk to someone who knows about her past but isn’t trying to push her and pull her back into that life.

He’s got a past too, one as colorful and heart wrenching, and she craves knowing more of it.

If he’ll let her.

Killian nods and tells Emma to sit down. She settles on his bed, pulling her knees to her chest and watching as he pulls a series of leather-bound journals out of the ornate cabinet carved into the ship. He doesn’t say anything, simply sitting down on a wooden chair and flipping through the pages, reading a few words to himself, turning the page once again, and then he settles on a passage.

“Today, I set foot in Misthaven for the first time in over a decade. The journey here was full of calm, fall waters, and while a chill nips at my nose, I cannot deny how beautiful this kingdom is. Evergreen trees spread across the ground as far as they eye can see, but then, in the blink of an eye, there are vast stretches of white sand that link to the sea. It reminds me of when I was a boy, of the way my mother would take us to the beach before she died, and though I am here for work, I wonder of the possibility of staying here on a more permanent basis.”

Killian looks up to her, blue eyes cast in a hazy shade of gray, and she swears his cheeks may be shaded in pink.

“Though,” he continues, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, “I would be remiss to say that if I do not return to the Isles, I’ll never seen Emma Swan again. She’s fiery, that lass, and while I was first attracted to the curves that make up her body, I find that she is the only one who is not afraid to challenge me. I fancy that about her, even when she is yelling at me, and it would be a lie to say that I do not enjoy riling her up. Her cheeks turn pink, her lips press into a firm line, and then she shows me her wit that is purely unmatched.”

“You write about me in your journal?”

He doesn’t look at her. Instead he run his tongue against his teeth and flips through a few pages.

“With the information I’ve gathered today, I believe Swan to be the lost princes of Misthaven. This seems ludicrous, but I cannot turn my mind off to keep from thinking of this. The timeline, the description, the portraits of her in the village, all piece together. It is not my place to be intrusive, and while many would say that means I’ve gone soft, I cannot help but assume that she has run for a reason. She suffered a great loss, and as someone who has experienced many of those, I understand the urge to run. I live this life because of it.”

Emma studied anatomy in her schoolings, knows where each organ is supposed to be located, but she would be damned right now if her heart isn’t in her stomach, beating faster than it ever has while her throat constricts. Killian has obviously skipped over several pages and paragraphs in his journal, has not told her more than he has told her, but what he has told her is enough.

They understand each other, and maybe beneath the physical attraction, that has been there all along.

“Would you like to meet me by the river tomorrow?” Emma whispers as the ship rocks below them.

“Aye, love, I think I would.”

Killian meets her by the river a half hour pass noon the next day. The sun is beaming down on them, a gentle breeze whistling between the trees, and while the two of them share more than they have in the past, it is still but a bird pecking at the shallows. That changes, however, as more days come to pass. During the day, the two of them meet by the river, exchanging slow, lingering kisses that sometimes stay that way and other times leaver her entire body flushing, and at night, he comes to the tavern. There, life is almost as normal as it always is. He sits at his preferred table with his crew, women often trying to gain his attention, and while they are always unsuccessful, there’s a feeling of being unsettled that comes with it.

He has a reputation to uphold, and really, who is she to ruin that for him?

Captain Hook is who the world knows.

Killian Jones is who she is getting to know.

And as the spring melts into summer, that is who she is falling for in a way that she never allowed herself to expect.

“Swan,” Killian whispers against the back of her neck, his breath warm as it ghosts over the expanse of her bare skin.

She shifts back into him, dragging her foot along the warm skin of his calf as he presses into her so that she can feel the rise and fall of his chest and the hard planes of a sea-worn body.

“Mhm,” Emma mumbles, tugging on his hand that is lying flat against her stomach.

“I’m afraid I have some news to share with you.”

The words do not truly settle in her mind. Instead, they stay on the outskirts, waiting and wanting to get in and settle, but her sated body and tired mind don’t allow that.

“And what’s that?”

“I received a letter a few days prior from an old acquaintance who says he has news of my old king once more trying to get his hands on the poison that killed Liam. I cannot let that happen, my love. He could kill thousands, and my men are getting restless. They need to be back on the sea before I have mutiny on my hands.”

Emma blinks and swallows while her stomach swirls, the words Killian is saying finally settling in her mind.

He’s leaving.

That is what Killian is trying to tell her, and she so wishes that she could fall back asleep and not hear any of it.

She knew this would happen, but she had allowed herself to feel comfortable, content even.

Emma had allowed herself to feel love despite knowing that it can be gone in the blink of an eye.

After her parents’ deaths and after many of her courtships in her youth, Emma always believed love to be fleeting, but in actuality, it is not. It seems that it takes no time at all to fall in the kind of love that would take a lifetime to get past, and she has allowed herself to do just that.

Stupid, stupid girl.

Emma makes an attempt to steady her breathing, to someone convince Killian that she has fallen asleep once more, but she knows that he doesn’t believe her when his lips press against her shoulder once more.

“I am a pirate, my love,” he whispers into her skin. “Tis the life I have chosen, and for now, I cannot settle down in one place. In the future, I am open to every possibility, but for now, I must go. Would I be a fool to ask you to come with me? I can show you a way of the world that you did not get as a child, and if you want, we can venture to Misthaven under the cover of the night and cloaks of disguise so you can be home once more.”

Emma opens her eyes again and takes in the soft glow of the candles still burning and the moonlight shining through the windows, a mix of a golden and silver glow, and she allows herself to imagine what leaving her safe haven would be like.

What going home would feel like even if that place is no longer hers.

“But it is your choice,” he continues, each word vibrating against her skin. “Everything is up to you, and if you choose to stay, know that I will count down every minute until I can get back to you.”

Nodding, Emma squeezes Killian’s hand once more. “How much time do I have to make my decision?”

“I will not leave until you have.”

She does not know what to say or how to put her thoughts into words, and while they are pressed together so that she can feel every inch of him, that is not nearly enough. So she glides their hands downward and shifts her leg back, hooking it over Killian’s calf, and he easily takes the hint, slowly touching her in a way that has her heart racing as his lips trail along her back and her shoulder, breathing her in as she does the same to him. The ship rocks gently below them in a soothing motion that Emma has grown to love, and the slowness of the ocean sets the slowness of their pace.

A gradual building that goes higher and higher and higher with each deft movement of Killian’s hand.

But then his hand is replaced, and he slides into her in a long, slow motion, heat radiating across her skin as he fills her. It’s familiar by now, and while she will admit that it is not always thrilling, there are times like this where she cannot imagine any other feeling beside being joined with him in the early morning hours.

The pace stays the same, sometimes slowing when Emma twists her neck to capture Killian’s mouth with hers, and she lingers in living on the edge of falling over, wanting to be there but being content to wait. She’s never liked waiting for much, especially good things, but with Killian, she’s found that waiting is always with it.

Waiting for him to flirt with her, waiting for him to be honest about who he is, waiting for him to come to the tavern, waiting for him to share his past, waiting for him to turn up in the markets with her favorite dessert when she thought he was working, waiting for him to fall in love…

And the thing that always gets her is that yes, she has bided her time and waited for him in certain aspects, but she has not sat idle. She has done her job, has spent time with those closest to her, has done things that she’s wanted to do. So much of her life was controlled, and she’s not yet done with experiencing the freedom of being the only person who has any right to tell her what to do. She may have been raised to wait for a man because he makes the final decisions, but that is not the life she is living now.

Heaven knows, she has made Killian wait for her as well.

Likely far more than she has ever waited for him.

And he is not making any decisions for her. That is all up to her.

Now, though, as Killian’s hand inches to where they’re joined, his fingers working what can only be considered magic, she knows that she is no longer waiting to fall over the edge into the bliss that leaves her warm and sated almost every time.

They do not move afterward. They do not speak either. Instead, they stay pressed together under the blankets in Killian’s cabin, and when they are ready again, they once again join together. This time is not slow. It’s hard and fast, and Emma can scarcely breathe as she holds on in desperation knowing that this could be the last time for a long time.

If not forever.

She wakes not remembering having fallen asleep, and she immediately knows she’s not sharing the bed with anyone else. The mattress is not nearly warm enough for Killian to still be here. When she blinks open her eyes, she sees him standing next to his dresser. He’s not yet clothed, but she watches as a finishes attaching his brace for his hook and then slips on one of his shirts, this one long and billowy and the darkest shade of black she’s ever seen. He doesn’t button the top, leaving his chest on display, and she finds that she can’t look away from him as he tugs up his trousers and tucks in the blouse before putting on his necklaces and rings on. Emma has grown so used to seeing a variation of his clothing nearly every day, of watching him methodically get dressed and then sit down over his logs, the official ones, not the ones where he writes about her, that she cannot quite imagine the day where she is not here to witness these every day moments that are the most ordinary she has ever had.

After a life filled with extravagant and extraordinary, Emma imagines that the thrill that runs down her spine at the thought of having her own normal is greater than any thrill she’s ever possessed before.

“Ah, good morning, my love,” Killian sighs when he sees her. He tugs one last lace on his leathers before sauntering toward her and leaning down to kiss her. He tastes of mint already, and she finds herself smiling about it. “Should I call to the kitchen to get you breakfast, or will you be joining the crew there?”

“Where are you off to?”

“First, to eat,” he smiles, scratching behind his ear before brushing his hair off his forehead. “Then I have preparations to arrange before we depart. Tonight, though, I am all yours, however you want me.” “Captain, that is quite the dangerous position you’re giving me,” Emma laughs before letting the blankets fall around her as she stands and walks to the wardrobe to grab one of Killian’s shirts. “However I want you?”

“Anything for you, milady.”

Emma shakes her head and then turns back around to him, pressing up on her toes in order to wrap her arms around his neck and brush her lips over his mouth as she speaks. “I want to go with you.”

“Swan – ”

“Don’t protest,” she whispers as his hand and his hook settle at her hips. “You asked me, and I’m agreeing. I don’t know if I’ll want to go to Misthaven, but I do know that I am ready for a new adventure with you, whatever that may be.”

-/-

one-shot tag list (you can be added or removed with absolutely no problem):

@mrtinski @klynn-stormz @jonirobinson64 @snowbellewells @therealstartraveller776 @thejollyroger-writer @sherifemma @shardminds @captainsjedi @galaxyzxstark @galadriel26 @idristardis @karenfrommisthaven @teamhook @spartanguard @searchingwardrobes @itsfabianadocarmo @jamif @shireness-says @ultimiflos @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @onepunintendid @bluewildcatfanatic @killianswannn @carpedzem @captainkillianswanjones @mayquita @jennjenn615 @onceuponaprincessworld @a-faekindagirl @scientificapricot @scarletslippers @xellewoods @ultraluckycatnd @stahlop @kmomof4 @tiganasummertree @singersdd @tornadoamy @cluttermind

#playing the waiting game #cs fic #cs ff #cs fanfic #captain swan fic #captain swan ff #captain swan fanfic #captain swan

147 notes · View notes

wefoundloveunderthelight · 4 years ago

Text

Waterfall Memories by GleefullyCaptainSwan

Chapter 2/9

Read on AO3: | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

Or on FF

Chapters titles are based on the lyrics from “Stubborn Love” by The Lumineers

Chapter 2: Than Nothing at All

Killian reached for the loaf of bread on the shelf in front of him. Gathering each of the items on his list without much fanfare. He kept to himself mostly, not bringing any unwanted attention his direction. He smiled at the cashier, handing over the cash for the groceries and tipping his hat before heading to the exit.

“See you in a few months, Rogers.” The woman smiled as he opened the door.

He nodded silently and shut the door behind him. Trekking through the town streets, he kept his eyes to the ground, avoiding eye contact with anyone who passed by him. Killian had no intention of befriending anyone in the town he visited every few months to pick up supplies before heading back to his home, hidden away in the lush forest.

He had his own garden, a well for water, and he had gotten used to living without electricity in his time spent at his cabin he built with his own hands. Only the items he couldn’t grow on his own required him to drive into the small town, purchase his necessities, and get back to his haven of solidarity before sundown.

He hadn’t always lived this way, yet he welcomed it now more than anything. His interactions were limited to the people he was forced to speak to in town during these visits. Killian was sure he wouldn’t have a single idea how to hold a conversation anymore.

There were days when he didn’t even hear his own voice, let alone use it to form a real sentence. Except for the times that he sought advice from himself or his dog, Jolly. In those cases, he found himself mumbling, sometimes he would answer for himself or the mutt and other times he would simply laugh for bothering to ask questions out loud in the first place.

He tossed the bags into the back of his truck, slamming the tailgate shut behind him. Climbing into the seat he pushed the key into the ignition but was stopped by a hand slipping into view of his open window.

“Afternoon, Rogers.”

Killian nodded to the man, “Sheriff.”

The man looked into the back of the truck, before turning back to face him. “Supply run?”

“Yes, sir.” He answered quietly.

“Bad weather headed this way.” The man pointed to the sky. “Looks like we might get some heavy rains, saying winter might be coming early.”

“Good thing I grabbed my supplies today then.” He said with a nod, turning the key in the ignition. The man kept his hand firmly attached to the vehicle.

“Yes, yes, good thing. Wouldn’t want you finding any trouble, Jones.”

Killian swallowed hard. “It’s my intention to stay out of trouble, sir.”

“See to it that you do.” The man patted his truck and walked back toward the sidewalk, turning to offer a simple wave as he pulled out of his parking spot. Killian was aware that the Sheriff knew of his past and who he actually was. The man kept a close eye on him when he visited town. Always making sure that Killian stuck to his routine and left as soon as he was done. He tried not to take offense, he supposed if the roles were reversed he would feel the same.

And Killian wasn’t looking for trouble. He’d had enough trouble for one lifetime, and he was determined to live out the rest of his life in peace.

Alone.

Killian drove down the dirt road leading into the forest. The breeze was picking up, blowing leaves across the windshield of his truck. A storm was brewing, and he would need to prepare the cabin and board up the windows. He parked the truck next to the small cabin, gathering handfuls of supplies from the back of the truck to carry into the house.

The door blew open, slamming into the side of the wall with the force of the wind. Jolly skipped toward him, panting, and howling at his feet. He set a few of the bags down, pushing the door shut with a slam, causing the frame sitting on the wooden table to fall to the floor with a crash. He sighed, scooping up the frame, slicing his finger on a shard of glass connected to it. He flinched at the pain, sucking his thumb into his mouth. Walking into the kitchen he sat the photo on the table, running water from the sink onto the wound. He grabbed one of the towels next to the sink, wrapping it around his hand.

When the bleeding stopped, he tossed the towel into the bin and sat down at the table, his eyes drifting over the photo lying on its side. His fingers absentmindedly grazed the faces that lay within the frame.

Being alone with his thoughts, his memories, were both a blessing and a curse. There were nights where he punished himself going through his past. Dredging up pieces of his life, remembering things that many nights he wished to forget, to burn from his brain. In the beginning, he spent his nights drinking, crying into his bottle of rum, wishing for things that he could never possibly have. But that was years ago, and he had long given up childish hopes and dreams.

He stood from his seat, taking the frame, and setting it into a drawer in the cabinet. Walking to the back door of the cabin, he grabbed the pole next to the door. With the storm approaching he only had a few more hours to get anything done before he would be holed up inside for a few days. He was in the mood for fish tonight, and if he wanted that, he needed to get a move on before the dark skies began spitting in his direction.

He trudged through the knee-high grass toward the small stream that produced the best catch. Tossing his line out into the water, he sat on the bank and raked a hand through his hair while he watched the line float out to the middle of the water, large circles rippling across the top of the pool as the rain began to fall.

Large drops began falling on his face, dripping down his cheek as the line sat still in the water in front of him. He sighed, watching the line dip into the dark waters. He reeled the line back in, casting it back into the center of the stream. Jolly stirred beside him, his nose sniffing the air.

Seems the fish weren’t biting tonight. He reeled the line back in slowly, watching the water ripple through the waves. When the line returned to him empty, he secured the line and stood up from his spot on the bank. As he prepared to leave, something caught his attention from the corner of his peripheral vision. Something bright caught on the edge of the bank near the rocks. He walked further down the embankment, trying to make out the shape of the object. Suddenly Jolly’s senses set him off as he ran down the side of the shore barking loudly.

As he neared the bright mass bobbing in the water, he noticed blonde locks swishing against the rocks. It was a person. Bloody hell. He waded into the water, feeling the frigid liquid stinging his thighs. He reached out, grabbing ahold of the black material wrapped around the woman’s mostly naked body. Blonde hair was wrapped tightly around her face, dirt and twigs mangled in her golden locks. He reached for her wrist, there was a slight pulse. The woman was alive.

Bloody hell.

He looked around. “Hello?” He yelled up stream. He had no idea where this woman could have come from, there was nothing around him for miles.

He put his hands on his hips, staring at the woman, contemplating his options. This was a complication he didn’t need in his life. If he brought a naked woman to town, half dead, wrapped in lacey garbage, they would throw him in jail and toss away the key. But if he left her here, she would most assuredly die. Looking down at Jolly, he groaned. “What do we do with her, boy?” The dog responded with a loud bark.

Shit.

He couldn’t exactly leave the woman out here to die, could he?

The rain was coming down in sheets, bouncing off her milky white skin as the pieces of black lace that were still attached to her body swirled around her.

Dammit.

Bending over he hoisted her over his shoulder, wading through the water until he reached the grass on his side of the stream. He lay her body on the ground, averting his eyes from her naked form. Regardless of the state of the lass, it was inappropriate for him to stare. Discarding his jacket from his body, he draped it over the blondes near naked form. Scooping her into his arms, he headed off in the direction of his cabin.

The woman’s skin was freezing to the touch, he was sure she had been in the water for hours. He had no idea how a woman would be in the woods, wearing what she was wearing, unless something was afoul. Thoughts of a killer or rapist lurking in his neck of the woods was frightening and problematic for him. With his history, he would be the first to blame if something evil happened near the small town he visited for supplies. The Sheriff was aware of his previous incarceration, he was a felon after all, and he knew that the Sheriff would always see him that way. He had seen the look of shame and disgust in the man’s eyes the first time he was summoned to his office after arriving in his town.

Six years ago

“Have a seat.” The Sheriff glared from his side of the desk.

“Is there a problem, sir? I was just stopping in for some bread and milk.” Killian tentatively took the seat across from the brooding man.

“Well, the problem isn’t why you’re here, it’s you being here at all.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I understand.”

“We don’t get a lot of strangers in this town. I ran your plates the moment you crossed into our little haven.” He picked up a sheet of paper in front of him. “Killian Jones, 5 years’ incarceration for larceny, trafficking, and murder.” He let the paper fall to the desk in front of him. “We’re a quiet town, full of good people who just want to go about their business. We don’t get men like you in our parts.”

“I did my time, paid my dues. I’m not here to cause any trouble. I just need some supplies and I’ll be on my way.”

“Just where are you staying, son?”

“I have some land, about 30 miles from here. Off grid. Mostly self-sustaining. Just need to purchase a few things now and then. I won’t be no trouble, sir.”

“See to it that you aren’t. Might not want to mention your name around here. Don’t want my town in a panic.”

“Yes, sir. I’m not here to make friends.”

“Good. See to it that you don’t stay long. I’ll be watching you.” The man rose from his desk, gesturing for Killian to leave which he was happy to do. He had expected to be treated as such, but it still stung feeling the man glare in his direction as he headed to his car.

Killian pushed the handle of the door and kicked his boot against the wood to shuffle into the cabin with the woman in his arms. Carrying her to the couch, he dropped her onto the sofa, rustling through the items in the room until he had an armful of blankets that he draped over her body to try and add some warmth to the woman.

Tossing a few logs into his fire, the room heated with a blaze as the flames broke the silence in the room with a crackle.

Looking back at the couch, he ran his hands through his hair in frustration. He had nothing to dress the woman in that would fit her. He couldn’t exactly leave her naked on his sofa. Walking back over to her, he slid his hand under the covers, her skin still felt like ice. He was pacing over the same planks of his living room, over and over. Stopping in place, he tore at the buttons of his flannel shirt, pulling it off his shoulders and tossing it to the ground.

This is ridiculous, he thought. He’d watched too many movies in the past. But she needed to get warm, and quickly. He undid the button on his pants, letting them drop to the floor beneath him and cautiously approaching the woman lying still in his home. Lifting the covers, he slid in beside the woman. “I’m not gonna hurt you, Lass.” He said out loud, feeling utterly ridiculous talking to a woman who was clearly not awake to hear a word he said.

He pulled the woman on top of him, sliding her icy skin to rest against his warm body. Staring at the ceiling he laughed at himself. “First time you get a naked woman in your arms in years, and she’s passed out cold. Figures.” The woman’s head rested on his chest and he pinched the covers around their body, wrapping his legs around her lower half, hoping to transfer as much warmth as he could. He slid his arms around the woman’s upper half, resting his hands against her back and rubbing them in slow circles. It was an oddly sensual gesture, if not for the clinical nature of the entire reason he had this woman in his arms in the first place.

He could feel her heartbeat slowly against his chest, a good sign he assumed. Once she was warmer, he would need to dress her and examine her for injury. The sooner he got her up and out of his home the better. Hopefully when she woke up she could tell him where to drop her and he could be done with this mess.

He pushed the woman’s hair out of her face, she would need a bath and a brush through her tangled mess of hair, but looking at her face, he could see that she was quite beautiful. Whoever she was, someone must be missing her. He closed his eyes, feeling the weight of her body pressed against his chest, his hands languidly roaming her back and he cursed himself for letting his thoughts drift.

Killian, my love.

He woke with a start, the fire dwindling in the stone hearth. Grumbling to himself he moved quickly to remove himself from the woman still lying motionless on top of him. Pressing his hand to his boxers to try and control his hardened erection.

“Dammit.” He cursed, looking down at the woman and reaching for his clothes to redress himself. He tucked the blankets around her and searched his bedroom for clothing he could dress the woman in. He didn’t exactly want her waking up in barely a stitch of clothing and thinking he took advantage of her. He found a pair of sweats and sniffed one of his flannels to ensure it was clean and took to task at dressing the woman. He took his time, examining her for cuts, bruises, breaks, or anything that seemed out of the ordinary that he would need to attend to. He bandaged the scrapes at her knees, wrapped her right hand, and secured her left arm in a strap to keep her from moving it. He couldn’t tell but it was possible her leg was broken or dislocated. He would need to deal with that once she was awake.

Honestly, getting a woman out of her clothes had come easy to him in the past, but dressing a woman who was practically comatose, and limp was proving to be a challenge. When he finally finished the task at hand, he lifted the woman up and carried her to his bedroom. He had a small wood stove in the corner of the bedroom, and it would be easier to keep her warm in the tiny space.

Once she was settled into his bed, he fished a brush from his tiny bathroom and sat down next to her on the bed. He tugged the few twigs from her hair, lightly running the bristles through her locks to get out the knots. When she could care for herself she would want a full bath to wash away the dirt, but the least he could do was make her presentable.

Presentable for what, you fool?

Killian shook the thoughts from his head and laughed. “Well, boy, I guess we’re on the couch tonight.” The dog jumped up on the bed and circled his spot, snuggling his snout into the woman’s side and relaxing against her. “Traitor.” He snorted. “I guess that will keep her warm.” He walked out of the room, pulling the door shut until there was just a crack left and headed to the kitchen to prepare dinner.

He sat at his table, staring down at the plate in front of him. He had really wanted fish tonight and instead he was eating peanut butter and jelly. The disappointment was greatly impounded by the fact that instead of fish, he found a bloody woman. He tried to ignore the anxiety bubbling inside of him, the worry about where the woman came from, how she ended up in the stream wearing hardly any clothing, who might be looking for her, and how quickly he could get her the hell out of his life.

He wasn’t used to dealing with people, much less the opposite sex. The last woman he had interacted with was that bitch of a prosecuting attorney, Regina Mills. The woman who stared at him like he was trash under her feet. She was almost gleeful when asking him questions on the stand, not even flinching when she held up poster size photos of Milah and Alice, their mangled bodies littered on the glossy paper for all to see. He had gulped down the tears that she accused him of faking, yelling in his face when he wouldn’t answer her questions about Neal fast enough. She was going to put him away for life. She bragged about it on the news every night.

He remembered her anger when the deal had been made, Killian would only serve five years for turning over states evidence and cooperating in the upcoming trial of Mr. Gold, the crime boss who reeked terror through Boston for the past 8 years. He swore he saw smoke coming from her ears when he walked out of the room after putting signature to paper.

He finished his sandwich, cleaning his plate in the sink and putting it away before leaning against the counter and crossing his arms. He looked down at the drawer beside him, sliding it open with his finger and reaching in to pull out the frame. Smiles on the faces glared up at him. The memory of the happy day floating in his brain.

13 years ago

“Push me higher daddy.” The young girl squealed.

“If you go any higher Alice, you will fly away from here.” He pushed the small of the girls back, sending her upwards on the swing.

“I’d never fly away from you.”

He smiled and grabbed the swing and the small girl in his arms, pulling her toward him and snuggling into her neck. “I should hope not, my love.” The girl giggled and squirmed in his arms.

“Hey, can I get in on any of this?”

Killian smiled at his wife as she approached them. “What do you say Alice, does mommy need a hug?”

“Alice sandwich.” The girl screamed.

Killian scooped her out of the swing and the girl wrapped her arms around his neck. “Milah love, I believe our girl wants an Alice Sandwich.” The woman pressed against him, her arms attaching to his waist and a soft kiss set upon his cheek.

Killian placed the frame back into the drawer and slammed it closed. He hadn’t had these thoughts in years. He didn’t want them. Blowing out the candles in the kitchen he wandered through the house, peeking into the bedroom. Jolly lifted his head and then whimpered before lying back down. He stepped quietly into the room, feeling the woman’s hand, she was warmer now. Her pulse was stronger.

“Come now Lass, it’s time to wake up and go home.” He said softly, but there was no movement, no recognition, she simply exhaled slowly, as if she were lost in a peaceful dream. Sighing he let loose of the woman’s hand, patted his dog on the head and wandered from the room. Dropping down onto the couch, he slipped his shoes off and hunkered under the blanket. Tomorrow he hoped the woman would wake and leave him to his solace again. Having a woman in his home was dangerous, not only for his freedom, but for his mental health. He didn’t need to be having thoughts of a life that was no longer his, he didn’t deserve memories of hope or love.

Killian Jones was a villain and villains didn’t get a happy ending.

#waterfall memories #stacy's fics #killian jones #emma swan #captain swan #captain swan fics #captain swan au #captain swan modern au

18 notes · View notes