#cocohook38

[colinoeyebrows]

A random Dark!Hook reaction gif for @cocohook38

[booksteaandtoomuchtv]

Witchy Woman (3/10)

0.5 | 1 | 2 | AO3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

art by @cocohook38

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

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

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

Rating: E

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

Entry for Captain Swan Supernatural Summer 2023 (@cssns)

Tagging: @anmylica, @elfiola, @goforlaunchcee, @jrob64, @kmomof4 , @stahlop, @teamhook, @tiganasummertree, @undercaffinatednightmare, @xarandomdreamx, @zaharadessert

Author Note: Thank you so, so much to @ultraluckycatnd. I am sure commas haunt you in waking and sleeping hours.

“What the hell was I thinking?” Emma muttered to the clothing piled on her bed. The clothing offered no response. She wasn’t sure what she expected given this particular pile of useless clothing seemed incapable of being helpful in the ways that clothing should actually be helpful. None of the dresses seemed to fall right, the shirts seemed too professional or too casual, and the skirts merely mocked her with their soulless neutrals and business styles. She didn’t date and the clothing that refused to cower under her darkest glare was a testament to the decade she spent prioritising her career over most everything else.

A light knock on her bedroom door sent her heart racing. She whipped around to see Elsa pushing open the door a bit more. Elsa’s eyes widened at the scene before her. “Good. You aren’t nervous about tonight, then.”

“Ridiculous, isn’t it?”

“Not at all.” Elsa gave her a reassuring smile. “You’ve been protecting your heart for so long. Letting yourself be vulnerable with Killian isn’t going to be easy. But, I think it’ll be worth it.” She tugged a crimson dress from the pile and handed the hanger to Emma. “This one is perfect.”

“Thanks." Taking the proffered dress, Emma attempted a smile. "I wish I were as certain as you were…"

"I am not telling you what I saw," Elsa's tone was final.

Emma huffed out an annoyed breath and slipped the dress over her head. The red silk flowed gently to her knees, the deep plunge of the neckline and clenched waist was exactly the balance between flirty and sexy she was seeking. “It would be so much easier if this were actually a first date. There is just all this…,” she paused, searching for a way to summarise over a decade of yearning and regretting the decision she made, even as she continued to believe she’d made the correct one, “history.”

Elsa raised her eyebrows. “Is ‘history’ what you call over a decade of ignoring whatever it is that burns whenever you two are in a room together?”

“Oh, shut up.”

“What happened to Aunt Ingrid was awful, but you can’t let it stop you from finding happiness.”

Their aunt had been a powerful witch who’d fallen for a vampire who was hungry for that power. He courted her, dazzling her with his adoration of her, showering her with gifts and praises, waiting for the day she would trust him above all others. When she surrendered to him and allowed him to drink from her, he drank even after she demanded that he stop. He kept drinking until he had consumed enough to make her powers his. At the loss of her power, Ingrid had become a hollow ghost of herself.

“I know,” Emma sighed. “Well, I think I know.” The fear of a similar loss still sat like a heavy boulder in her chest. Emma could not imagine a fate worse than losing her powers and having to navigate life without the constant companionship of her magic. The connection between her and the power flowing through nature all around her was as deeply a piece of her as the relationships with her sisters. Living without it would be like living without her heart.

Elsa made a small noise of understanding. “Killian’s a good one.”

“Yeah, I should probably put an end to his waiting.” Emma checked her reflection one more time before leaving to meet said vampire for dinner.

§§§§ §§§§ §§§§ §§§§

Killian was seated comfortably in the booth tucked in the back of the busy restaurant. He was nursing a strong pour of spiced rum and watching busy tables in an effort to pass the time until Emma arrived. He watched the patrons as they enjoyed their meals; couples chatting about their days, urging each other to try a bite of their meal, and enjoying the restful quiet which accompanies people so familiar with each other they no longer feel threatened by the absence of noise or distraction. Closing his eyes against the yearning that gripped his heart, Killian took a long pull of the burning liquor to steady himself. Emma was late, but that was like her. It did not mean she wasn’t going to come.

I can’t take the chance that I am wrong about you. Her words from that night echoed in his head, clear as the moment she’d spoken them and ended their courtship without allowing him a single word to challenge her decision.

Yesterday, when she pushed her way into his office, he’d taken that as evidence she was ready to take that chance on him. After over a decade of working alongside her and adhering to her strict boundaries, even when she crossed them, he hoped that he’d earned her trust. But as another minute ticked by, he grew more certain she reconsidered.

“Can I get you anything else, sir?”

Killian brought his focus to the young man - vampire - now standing at the end of his table. “Another drink would be welcomed.”

“Right away,” the waiter lingered a moment. His voice lowered so only Killian could hear him. “Sire, there is a vamp outside that…”

“I’ll see to it,” Killian said, interrupting whatever explanation that followed. “Forget the drink,” he said as he stepped from the booth and paid for the drinks he already consumed. His jaw muscles jumped as he strolled toward the exit, annoyance rolling from him in waves. Emma hadn’t shown up, but he could think about that after he dealt with whatever asshole was causing trouble outside of the restaurant.

§§§§ §§§§ §§§§ §§§§

Emma hurried toward the restaurant where she knew Killian would be waiting for her, halfway through his first drink. She was trying to think of a ridiculous excuse for her tardiness that would bring a smile to those deliciously tempting lips. There was a three-person pile-up in front of the library. Traffic on the sidewalk was unbelievable!

Between one step and the next, she was suddenly pulled off balance and slammed into the wall of the restaurant. Dark spots danced in her vision at the impact, but she could clearly see Neal's sneering face as he held her firmly against the wall, his fingers digging bruises into her arms.

She reached for her magic to shove him off, but it had scattered when her head hit the wall and she couldn't quite grasp it yet. She refused to give in to the panic that had her heart pounding in her throat. She needed to try to calm down and focus on pulling the threads of her magic back to her.

“Let go of me,” she demanded. Her rising anger and panic made her too flustered to accomplish more than an ineffective spark between her fingers.

“I am not letting you go in there,” Neal replied, calmly.

“You don’t have a say in this,” Emma snapped, still trying to get free from his grasp. He tightened his hold, forcing a grunt of pain to escape her.

“You are not going in there,” Neal replied as if he were talking a child down from a tantrum. He leaned in and she could feel the hot moisture of his breath against her skin; the sensation made her feel sick. She couldn't discern his intentions; did he mean to bite her? Kiss her? Was he going to threaten her again?

He whipped his head back suddenly, turning to focus on something behind him. Emma pulled her knee up in a quick, decisive movement that had Neal releasing his hold on her and bending in half as she ran blindly away from him.

She didn't make it far before she collided with a patron walking out of the restaurant. Their hands wrapped around her to prevent her from falling, but she flinched at the contact and they dropped their hands.

"Are you okay, love?" The accented voice pulled her back to the surface. Her mind and body calming, no longer drowning in the fear she'd felt moments ago. Her eyes started to burn with tears as the adrenaline flooding her system started to wane and she tried to nod in answer to Killian's question. Killian watched her quietly, the concern on his face unmistakable. "Let me take you home?"

Numbly, Emma nodded. Killian threw his coat around her shoulders, the sudden warmth and familiar scent of him surrounding her with unexpected comfort.

"Is this okay?" Killian asked, indicating his intent to place his hand between her shoulders to help guide her to the car. It was a casual touch like so many between them, almost habitual, but tonight it felt like a lifeline, pulling her back to safety. Again, she only nodded. They were quiet as they walked to Killian's sleek Aston, both on alert for any indication of danger.

§§§§ §§§§ §§§§ §§§§

Other than Emma quietly asking him to take her back to his house, the drive was quiet. Killian hadn't stopped scanning for threats or glancing over to assess her injuries until they'd crossed the threshold into his den. He'd turned on the gas fireplace, despite the warmth of the evening, and laid a blanket on her as she sat curled up on the couch. It wasn't until she was holding a warm cup of hot chocolate sprinkled with cinnamon that he finally broke the quiet - Can you tell me what happened? He settled on the floor in front of her, watching her intently, but giving her as much space as he could with his instincts demanding he sweep her into his arms and never let her go.

"I was distracted. I didn't see him," Emma offered, quietly.

"See who?"

"Neal.” Emma continued, her words rushing out, skipping details. "When my head hit the wall, it messed with my magic. I couldn't throw him off."

A wave of anger at Neal and at himself for not being there crashed through him. While he would enjoy ending that pathetic creature's existence, Killian filed away the various gruesome images that accompanied that desire. He could not give in to his anger until he knew that Emma was okay.

He moved to sit next to her on the couch. When she didn't shy away, he gently pulled her into his arms. She relaxed into him, moments of the evening's encounter spilling from her in the same disjointed manner. Killian listened intently, saving his responses for later. Emma needed someone to hear her tonight. When she had time to process, they could discuss a few details that were nagging at him.

He held her firmly, keeping her rooted in the present where she was safely tucked in his embrace. They stayed together like this in a comfortable quiet for a while after she'd finished talking.

"Can I get you anything?" he asked her softly.

A soft snore filled the room.

Killian was filled with a sudden need to capture every detail of this moment - the weight and warmth of her against his chest, the softness of her hair tickling his beard when he looked down at her, the way his arm - currently draped around her waist - rose and fell with her steady breathing, the familiar sweet vanilla fragrance, the softness of her in sleep, and the freeing absence of the all-consuming yearning he'd been slave to all these years - and burn it into his memory.

[spartanguard]

look who splashed up for a very special day!

Merman!Killian had to be here to say

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO @cocohook38!!!!!!!!!

To the sweetest, most enthusiastic, supportive, crazy, wonderful coconut out there!!! I hope you're having the most beautiful day and getting all the nice, amazing things you deserve! LOVE YOUUUUU

[original image]

[piracytheorist]

Character ask : Anya Chichi

Anya Forger

First impression: Oh she looks cute. Hope she doesn't turn into a plot device. Impression now: My adorable chaotic gremlin who has more agency and control in the story than her spy and assassin parents <3 Favorite moment: I think I'll choose the moment where she rescues the drowning boy in episode 11. She's kind and selfless enough to risk her life to save him, and she didn't even hesitate to jump into the pool like how brave is that kid! And since she didn't want to expose her secret she took it all upon her to act and save him herself. Idea for a story: I think it'll be wasted potential if we never learn about the scientists who created her and their motives, so I think a story of her being taken by them will be interesting, albeit sad, until at least her parents come and kick ass to save her. Unpopular opinion: I don't ship Damιanya and that seems to be quite the unpopular opinion in this fandom... Even if they're aged up and Damian actually treats her decently, I still don't think they'd make an interesting couple. Favorite relationship: Anya with Papa and Mama. Don't make me choose! Favorite headcanon: I genuinely wonder if Endo is ever gonna explain why she has those little hats on her head, and I think it would be hilarious for them to be just hair clips that she wears literally 24/7. So my headcanon for that is that Anya is just stylish!

Loid Forger

First impression: LOL that's a way to break up with your girlfriend. Is he just gonna be one of those boring protagonists whose only character traits is past trauma and being OP? Impression now: If anyone hurts him I will commit several felonies. But please hurt him I want the whump :3 Favorite moment: Bench scene after Yor kicks the living daylights out of him. The vulnerable moment of him remembering his mother and opening up to Yor about that because we know it's real and not for the mission is unparalleled. Chef's kiss. Idea for a story: Okay okay hear me out. We know that he's a very disciplined spy so if he's ever caught he has to be caught in the act. Mere evidence won't do because he'll deny any involvement to hell and back and be pretty convincing about it. So he has to be caught red-handed. And an idea for that is, he's disguised himself as Yuri because for Reasons he has to infiltrate the SSS offices, but then for some reason the actual Yuri appears there too. "Yuri" and Yuri fight, and an incompetent officer finds them, aiming his gun at them. Twilight is silent, but Yuri tries to convince the guy that's he's the real Yuri and he should shoot the fake one. The guy says that "Only a spy would act like that" and shoots. While that happens, within a split second Twilight thinks "I have to let him die. I have to get out of here. I have to let him die." But he just cannot do that because he knows how much it would devastate Yor to lose her brother... so he pushes him out of the way and takes the bullet instead. Maybe not anywhere too dangerous, like his arm or something. But it's enough to slow him down as he tries to escape, and he's finally caught while still wearing a mask with Yuri's face. You can imagine Yuri's shock and horror when he realizes it's "Loi-Loi", who is a spy and tried to infiltrate the offices and also saved his fucking life. Because as many lies as he's said, Yuri has absolute proof that this man really does love his sister. I want this to happen so much you have no idea. Unpopular opinion: I've yet to read the manga and anything that explores his backstory but I think it's easy to think he'd abandon his spy work after he realizes he loves his family and wants to spend his life with them. Which yeah it's what we want for him but I think his desire for peace tops even his love for his family. He'd rather break his own heart along with theirs and leave if it means he can keep working as a spy and protect the fragile peace. Which is why I feel that the story cannot end without Ostania's government falling, and the new, more democratic government either signing a secure peace treaty with Westalis or uniting under one nation. Favorite relationship: Loid and Anya. Look I love twiyor as much as the next shipper but the father/daughter feelz was one of the things that hooked me into the show so it's the one I want more of. Favorite headcanon: I once read a post talking about how people from Westalis may have a different accent than people from Ostania, and now I cannot get that idea out of my mind. I think it would be interesting to see Twilight suddenly drop all pretenses and start speaking with the accent he grew up using, allowing himself to connect with that old part of himself he kept hidden. I doubt they'd do that in the anime (and since I watch the Japanese version I don't think I'd notice the difference) but it's still a very interesting headcanon.

(no manga spoilers please 😁)

Send me a character!

[hookaroo]

@cocohook38

Don't you dare! >:(

🫣😵

[killian-whump]

Tumblr’s just messing with me now. I keep seeing reblogs of the same art by a friend of mine that I know I’m following still and I like the post when I first see it, regardless of who reblogged it, but I figure I’ll reblog the OG post when I get to it on my feed and then IT NEVER COMES?? I never see it?! And so I don’t end up reblogging it, and I forget about it until the next time THE EXACT SAME THING happens again and I’m like, “FUCK, THAT HAPPENED BEFORE, TOO” and I’m very confused.

[kmomof4]

✨

Thanks for playing, my dear! Sorry it took me a few days to get to! It's been an incredibly busy week!

✨What's a fic you've posted you wish you could breathe life into again and have people talking about it? (or simply a fic you wish got more credit)

I would have to say A Spy Finds a Home, the concluding story of A Family Affair. The series started tickling my brain not long after I wrote my first fic, but it was 2yrs before I actually started writing it. And it took me about a year to get all four fics written. The entire series is one of my personal favorites for my own fics, so I wish more people had read and enjoyed the series. But given that we are a CS fandom, not a Red Hunter, Outlaw Queen, or Snowing fandom, I knew that would be a very tall order before I wrote the first word of the other stories. I truly didn't expect anyone to read any of the others, so I am truly grateful for the folks who did. There were so many comments about the rift between David and Marco in Love Between the Pages that I wish more people had read at least the prologue and epilogue of ASFH, which explained and resolved it all, even if they weren't interested in Snowing's entire story. Thank you for the ask, babe!!!

[colinoeyebrows]

Colin O'Donoghue in Orange 🧡🧡🧡

Happy Birthday to the amazingly talented Jules @cocohook38 who is always full of life!! Here are some cheeky Colin O'Donoghue gifs (that sort of remind me of your personality 😜)! Grateful for your friendship! You've made my bday this year special, so I wanted to do the same, but from a distance 🧡. Hopefully, one day we can celebrate your bday in person too! Love you Jules!!!

[cssns]

And now it’s time for our artists to shine! Please help me welcome @cocohook38 to the CSSNS23!!!

What’s your Tumblr?

@cocohook38​ aka Jules'

How long have you been in the CS/OUAT fandom?

long enough to never remember the answer to that question each years haha (almost 10yrs now maybe?)

When did you start shipping Captain Swan?

Neverland kiss was the time I went from Killia-stan to KillianANDCS-stan lol

What drew you to this event?

the fun with peeps during CS events :3

What inspired your topic?

This year I'm going all in "let's do fanart for fic" sooo idk yet haha but who knows maybe there'll be some inspiration that'll popup along the way ^^'

What kind of art do you like to do? Picsets, painting, digital, etc? Feel free to give as much info as you like.

digitaaaaal lol But recently it's just going with whatever the mood is

What are you looking forward to most about participating in this event?

have fun and create magical art

Jules always does such an incredible job with her artwork! She’s doing art for @booksteaandtoomuchtv​ dropping on August 8, @iamstartraveller776​ dropping on August 12, and @grimmswan​ dropping on August 16! Everyone go say hi and welcome her to the event!

[booksteaandtoomuchtv]

Witchy Woman (5/10)

0.5 | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | AO3 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

art by @cocohook38

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

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

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

Rating: E

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

Entry for Captain Swan Supernatural Summer 2023 (@cssns)

Tagging: @anmylica, @elfiola, @goforlaunchcee, @jrob64, @kmomof4 , @stahlop, @teamhook, @tiganasummertree, @undercaffinatednightmare, @xarandomdreamx, @zaharadessert

A big thank you to @kmomof4 for her cheerleading and sanity-checking.

The kitchen was filled with the smell of roasted potatoes and vegetables, hot oil sizzled and popped as Killian laid the sea bass filets in the pan, and the wine had rested. All that remained for the evening to begin was the arrival of a certain stubborn witch he spent a decade chasing. Humming to himself, he grabbed his glass from the counter and took a sip. Then, he turned the fish to brown the other side. 

Despite the disturbing site that they investigated this afternoon, his heart was weightless with the joy of having his mate in his house. After waking up with her nestled against him on his couch this morning, he became fixated on getting her to return home; his vampiric instincts desperate to be surrounded by her scent and to provide her with all the protection that he was able. It was difficult to deny his protective instincts around her, especially after last night’s encounter with Neal. 

After he made coffee for them this morning, they discussed the strangeness of the encounter in more detail. Killian was concerned that Emma hadn’t been able to sense Neal’s magical signature before he approached her. A witch as powerful as Emma was able to pick up on signatures from a considerable distance. Emma brushed it away as being too distracted to notice. But sensing magic was second nature to supernatural beings - he couldn’t shake the worry something more was happening. When he raised the objection that she had also been able to access her magic for a few moments, she had shut down the conversation - Leave it alone, Killian. 

There was more to that exchange than Emma was seeing. She kept blaming herself, inventing weaknesses that he knew she did not have, for Neal’s attack. Even now, his jaw ticked and his fist clenched in frustration that she was blaming herself for that prick’s behaviour. He would have eliminated that worthless vampire after she had fallen asleep last night, but she made him promise that he would let her handle Neal. 

“You left the door unlocked,” Emma said by way of greeting as she walked into his kitchen from the entry. He switched off the stove, put the fish filets on their plates, and turned to watch her approach and he was filled with the want to experience this every evening for the rest of his life. A plate with four chai cupcakes was in one hand, likely Mary Margaret’s handiwork, and a duffle bag hung from her shoulder.

Killian cocked an eyebrow. “Can I take your bag?”

“Erm, well,” Emma started, looking anywhere but at his face. She set the cupcakes near their dinner plates on the island between them and dropped the bag at her feet.

Squaring her shoulders, she looked at him and tried again. “I was, I mean, I thought just in case…” 

“Just in case,” he repeated, his tone filled with feigned innocence. “Shall I take it to the guest room? Just in case the evening runs long?” 

She narrowed her eyes at him, but her face had turned a rich red that immediately became his favourite colour. “No, no need. It was ridiculous, Mary Margaret caught me leaving and…I will put it back in the car.”

Killian’s eyes were bright with humour. “Aye, that is likely for the best.” 

He had picked up the bag and looped the strap over his shoulder before she could blink. He was clearly suppressing a smile as he walked out of the kitchen with it in the opposite direction of his guest rooms, in the direction of his bedroom. He was back almost as quickly as he’d left, the bag deposited, and a crooked smile on his face. 

Killian didn’t attempt to hide the fact his fangs had descended at the thought of having Emma in his room and in his bed. His smile broadened when Emma had caught sight of them; it wasn’t the scent of fear that had filled the space between them and threatened to pull him under. Her arousal surrounded him and after over a decade of celibacy, the irresistible scent was driving him mad with desperation.

§§§§    §§§§    §§§§    §§§§    

“Swan.” His voice was hoarse with need and warning, and his blue eyes rolled with the bright starlight of magic, evidence that his control was slipping. Killian rarely let his vampiric nature free and Emma felt a shiver run through her body at the realisation that she was the reason it was surfacing now. He cleared his throat and leashed his self-control before speaking again. "Swan, if you were planning on eating then you need to think about something else. Your desire is," he took in a deep breath, "commanding me, love."

Eyes bright with challenge and humour, Emma reached toward the cupcakes between them on the granite island. She swiped a bit of frosting onto her finger and lifted her hand slowly toward her lips. Killian tracked the action but he stood completely, unnaturally still, battling to keep his control tightly in place. 

“I’ll just have dessert.” Emma placed her frosted finger on the tip of her tongue. She kept her eyes on his; his shattered expression encouraged her further. She wrapped her lips around her finger and sucked it clean. She pulled her finger from her lips with a soft pop and a wicked smile on her face.

She leaned on the counter to reach again for the cupcakes, coating her finger in more frosting. His hook captured her wrist and his hand gripped her hips, holding her in place, his sapphire and starlight gaze holding hers as he guided her finger to his lips, slowly, allowing her every opportunity to stop him. 

Emma had no intention of stopping him. 

He closed his lips around her, his tongue sweeping off the frosting and circling the pad of her finger in an explicit reminder of all the incredible things that tongue could do to her. The sensation of him sucking lightly and her memory of his mouth on her neck, on her nipples, and on her clit made her clench her thighs together to ease the sudden ache. 

A strangled sound, somewhere between a moan and a plea, escaped her when he scraped his sharp fang against her finger. He relinquished it with a satisfied, “Mmm, delicious.”

“Mary Margaret makes the best frosting.”

“I wasn’t talking about the cupcakes, Swan.” He pulled her closer to him with the hand still snug on her hip. He brushed his lips softly against hers in both question and invitation. Emma's heart raced as she closed the distance between them, placing a demanding kiss on his lips and providing him with her answer. 

She tasted the frosting that lingered on his lips as she deepened their kiss further. She pushed her body against his and felt his cock pressed between them. Keeping her body tight to him so her movements would provide some friction against his sensitive head, she rolled her hips against him. A low groan rumbled through him at the action. Breaking away from her lips, he kissed and nipped his way down her neck to her shoulder. 

“Emma.” His voice was broken and his expression was shattered. She vaguely registered that her posture was requesting and welcoming a vampire to drink from the vein. She was confident that he would never take what she didn’t offer; her heart still fluttered excitedly when he scraped his fangs lightly over her skin.

His hand slipped under her shirt, flames sparking wherever his fingers touched. He rolled her nipple between his fingers, sucking at the other through the thin fabric of her shirt. The flat of his hook continued to apply pressure against her hip, keeping her pressed firmly against him. 

“Killian.” She moaned. Her mind was too jumbled with sensations to say anything beyond his name. He was there to provide her with all she wanted - his lips and fingers exactly where she needed them. 

He was everywhere. 

Still, she needed more. 

Killian lifted her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist. He smiled wickedly at her. “I have dreamt of having you needy in my arms and my name falling desperately from your beautiful lips for so long, Emma.”

She made some incoherent noise in response as she ground her hips against him. The resulting friction gave her a little reprieve from the tension building in her body. “I need…” 

“Mmmhm, I know.” He carried her toward his bedroom. Kissing and nipping desperately at her neck, throat, shoulders, and anywhere else to which he could gain access as he walked. 

Once they had crossed the threshold, he set her down gently on her feet. She whined in protest. Killian chuckled lowly as he made quick work of her belt and the buttons on her jeans. She pushed her jeans down hurriedly as he tugged them off, both eager to carry on what they had started in the kitchen. Killian tossed her jeans off to the side, kicked aside his own trousers, and swept her back into his arms, her legs wrapping tightly around him once more.

They came back together with desperate kisses. Emma raked her fingers through his hair, tugging him closer to her to deepen every kiss. Killian tightened his arm around her, his strength and warmth providing her comfort that she hadn’t realised she needed and had missed for so long. She wanted him to surround her and fill her so completely that everything else would cease to exist. 

“I need to hear you, Emma,” Killian demanded, voice low, into her ear. His cock was teasing as he rubbed his head against her clit. 

She laid her head back on the wall, rocking her hips, desperate to pull him in deeper. Killian held her up, hook refreshingly cool under her left thigh, preventing her from being able to take in any more of his hardened cock. He tsked. “Love, give me what I need. I will give you your every desire.”

His voice sent a wave of pleasure through her body, the promise something she knew he could and would deliver on. “I am yours.” She rolled her hips and was rewarded with a magical flash in his blue eyes accompanied by a groan she felt more than heard. “I belong to you, Killian.”

“Aye, that you do.” He flashed her a heartbreakingly beautiful smile. His pupils were blown wide with only a thin, bright ring visible around them. The creature within was slipping the tight leash he always kept on it; her words of surrender and acceptance, after all of these years without them, pulled out the most primal desires from the powerful vampire holding her against the wall. He slammed into her, arm wrapped tightly around her hips to hold her steady as he set a demanding, almost punishing, pace. 

Her head fell to his shoulder, her breathing erratic as she felt her body tightening around him. 

“Good, Emma.” He didn’t let up the pace, murmuring soft and encouraging words in between them as he slammed into her. 

She pulled at him, desperately, she needed to be closer to him. As the tension low in her stomach grew, she let out a throaty sound, a mixture of a moan and his name. 

She wasn’t sure what she’d meant to say, but Killian seemed to understand.

“That’s it, love, let go. I’ve got you.” He held her tightly, following her over the edge once he felt her shatter around him. 

They stayed like that, his arms tight around her, cock softening inside her, forehead resting against hers, until they were able to steady their breathing. He slowly withdrew and she whimpered at the separation.

“Oh, I am far from done, love.” He took her over to the bed they hadn’t quite made it to before and settled her onto the fluffy duvet. “But, I need you laid out before me for this next part,” he said with a salacious glint in his eye.

§§§§    §§§§    §§§§    §§§§    

After becoming thoroughly reacquainted with one another and reheating the very cold meal they previously abandoned, Emma fell asleep curled in Killian’s arms. They rested, tangled together all night. He woke before her and pulled her close.

He held her tight, basking in the feel of her soft body pressing against his with every breath she took, and drew in a deep breath in hopes of drowning in her scent before the light of the morning could tear them apart. He could not recall a time he had felt so content. At this moment, he was certain he had everything he would ever need or had ever needed in his grasp and he feared letting go. For if he did, he suspected the mirage would fade away and reveal that he dreamt it all. 

In her sleep, she rolled further into him. Her elbow jabbed painfully into his side with the movement, pulling a shocked noise from him. She didn’t wake; he hadn’t expected she would. Waking Emma was nearly impossible, but she wasn’t a peaceful bed partner. She often jabbed sharp elbows into tender bits, tickled his legs with icy toes, threw her arm into his face, wrapped the blankets tightly around her like a cocoon, and muttered the strangest strings of words; but, he would endure it all to keep her tucked beside him. 

Unfortunately, time doesn’t halt to permit even the most powerful vampire to capture every detail of the few perfect moments he is granted. As if mocking him for such sentimental thoughts, the morning arrived sooner than was fair bathing his room in bright, warm sunlight. He muttered low curses at it in a failed attempt to scare it into submitting to his will. It, of course, continued to fill his room. 

Killian gently nudged Emma’s shoulder. She didn’t stir. He lightly touched her side, lingering on spots he knew were ticklish. She grunted in her sleep but didn’t wake. Chuckling to himself, he rolled over so that he was on top of her and kissed her firmly on the lips. She melted into the kiss, releasing a soft sweet sound before her body stiffened as if she were preparing for a fight. Her eyes popped open in surprise when she realised that she was held too firmly to strike her assailant. 

“Good morning, Love,” Killian greeted her. Her body relaxed beneath him. He released his hold on her and kissed her gently on the forehead. Letting out an annoyed sigh, she pulled the blankets tight over her head. Killian pushed off the bed and padded on silent feet to the kitchen.

When he returned with a cup in hand, Emma had already resumed sleeping. The aroma of cocoa and coffee with a touch of cinnamon swirled around the room and a low hmmm rose from the blanket pile in the middle of his bed. Followed shortly by the appearance of her hand grabbing blindly for the cup he held. A soft smile pulled at his lips and the humour danced in his words as he spoke. “I’m not giving you this until you’re sitting up.” 

She clawed out from her position, grunting dramatically at the clearly herculean effort it was taking, her face a mask of annoyance and frustration until she was repositioned. She shot him a look - are you happy, now? Offering her the full mug, he slid onto the bed next to her. A warm, soft emotion filled his chest as he watched her slowly come alive with each sip. 

“Will you spend the day with me?” 

She rewarded him with one of her rare full smiles. His breath caught at the sight of it.

“Depends,” she answered. 

He cocked an eyebrow - oh, really?

“What’re we doing?”

“Good.” He pushed off the bed and started toward the large pass-through closet adjoining his bathroom and bedroom. “We have to get going or we’ll miss it.”

“I haven’t agreed to anything yet,” she called from the bed. 

“Didn’t you?” 

He could feel the eye roll from the other room. Emma not declining his offer or making one of her flimsy excuses to keep her distance between them was the same as her agreeing, and they both knew it. She didn’t reply to his teasing question, but he could hear her moving from the bed and crossing to the dresser where he’d laid out the clothes from her duffle. His heart was light, a smile on his lips and that warmth still filling his chest as he dressed for his second, first date with the woman he had loved since the first, first date. 

[spartanguard]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, JULES!!!

in case y’all didn’t know,

it’s @cocohook38​‘s birthday!!!!

And to celebrate this absolute darling of a human being, I’m gonna spend the rest of the day reblogging some old favorite pieces by her 😁 Julie is such an absolute sweetheart and does SO MUCH AWESOME WORK FOR THIS FANDOM!!!! 

so I hope you have the ABSOLUTE BESTEST DAY, JULES!!! LOVE YOUUUUU

[piracytheorist]

Congratulation on getting that job!!! So happy for you! And wishing you all the good stuff for it 😁🎉🎉

Thank you so much! I think I'm still a little stressed because now I'll be on the search for a new home and moving out quite far from here, but it will be so much better and I'll at least be doing the thing I like doing :D Off to the new stage of life!

[kmomof4]

YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!!!

JULES FOR THE WIN!!!!

CS AU: The Tattoo Tryst

A Captain Swan One Shot

Summary: Prompted by the underground meaning behind a keyhole tattoo, which in some circles is an open use symbol for women who want to be sexually used by men. Emma accidentally reveals her tattoo on a crowded train car and… someone takes advantage. Much to her extreme pleasure.

A/N: So… I had this dream… this very naughty dream, so of course… it had to be fic’d. Some might consider this dub con, but both parties are operating with a respect and understanding of certain rules they both share, so… I don’t really see it that way. That said, if the summary above squicks you out, then this might not be the one shot for you. Smut responsibly.

Big shout out to @jrob64 for agreeing to be my last minute beta (ya snooze, you lose @kmomof4!) Okay, okay... much love and thanks to Krystal, too. She hopped on the doc just in time ;o) You're both amazing and the absolute best!

Rated: E / ~3200 words / Also available on ao3 / buy me a coffee / add to tag list / Curious? Come Ask Me!  

~/~

The train car was a sea of humanity by the time Emma was able to squeeze in. Normally, when she traveled home after an evening out with friends, this line was quiet with very few passengers. Tonight, however, thanks to some sporting event that annoyingly ended at the same time she and her friends had parted ways, her usually subdued commute was cramped, overheated, rowdy, and rambunctious.

Managing to slip back into an area where she wasn’t surrounded on all sides, Emma heaved a sigh and gathered her hair off her back and up into a high ponytail. The thin, short, halter style dress she’d chosen for late summer celebratory drinks would help keep her cool in the sweltering heat of the train car, but she knew it wouldn’t take long before she broke out in a sweat under her curtain of hair, so best to address that before it became so crowded she’d have trouble lifting her arms.

It was a good thing she did, too. At the next stop more people pushed their way in, jostling her and those around her as the new occupants jockeyed for position before the doors closed. A hand brushed the back of her dress, whispering over the swell of her ass, but Emma chalked it up as an accident. With the way the crush of passengers were all pressed tightly together and the rocking of the train making it hard to keep balance, there were bound to be a few unintentional touches here and there.

Curling her hand around the bar of the divider to her left, she braced herself as the train set off again, rolling her neck to ease some of the tension and causing the tip of her ponytail to brush across her exposed back. The man in front of her readjusted the bag he had slung over his shoulder, and she practically toppled into the person behind her when she tried to avoid getting smacked by the canvas satchel. A hand grabbed her hip, probably a reflex to help steady her, or to keep her from careening into them further. Again, she wasn’t going to fault the person for the touch.

That was until…

His thumb skimmed over the bare skin at her waist and the grip on her hip tightened as another hand began to trail up the side of her thigh towards her hemline. It took her a quick second to get over her shock - this was no accident - before she inhaled an indignant breath, ready to give this perv a piece of her mind and put him on blast in front of the entire train.

However, the scathing admonishment died on her tongue when a sultry voice gruffed low in her ear, “Intriguing tattoo you’ve got there, love.”

She nearly broke out into a cold sweat, even as heat rushed through her body. Her tattoo. The one she only displayed at a certain club; a certain club she only visited when she’d had enough of her high-stress, high-demand job and wanted to relinquish all control to someone else. The keyhole tattoo on her back was only visible in one specific cut of dress, like the one she had on tonight, which was why she’d been wearing her hair down. What were the odds that when she’d pulled it up, the person behind her would recognize it for what it was?

Rough, calloused fingertips traced over the ink as his other hand slipped beneath her skirt and palmed her ass cheek. “I’m not mistaking its meaning, am I?” he asked, though there was no question in his tone.

Clearing her throat in an attempt to return moisture to the dry, arid environment it had become, Emma whispered, “No.”

“No, what?” he murmured, his breath ghosting past the shell of her ear and making her shiver.

“No, sir.”

“Mmmm,” he hummed, rubbing his palm against her cheek. “Good girl.” His fingers moved to the tattoo that sat below the keyhole and he inquired, “And this one? The swan? A symbolic representation of your safe word, I presume?”

“Yes,” she murmured, over her shoulder, getting a glimpse of him for the first time, which did nothing to even out or calm her breathing.

Shit. He was gorgeous.

“Yes… what?” he replied, his voice deep, rich, and a tad dangerous.

“Yes… sir.”

“Eyes front, love.”

She did as she was told and focused on keeping her breath even and her expression neutral. A shiver of wonder ran down her spine at the feel of his lips caressing her shoulder. His other hand slipped beneath her skirt and worked in tandem with the first, fondling her ass, mapping its curves and creases while toying with the edges of her underwear.

She gasped when the back of her dress flipped up, exposing her backside. His hand slid around to the front of her pelvis and wrapped itself around her mound, pulling her backward by her pussy. He fused her ass to his groin and began rutting into her, his firm erection becoming stiffer at the contact, and all she could do was sink her teeth into her bottom lip and try not to grind against him, even though every throbbing, aching, needy nerve ending in her body was screaming at her to.

She did not dare though. Who knew what sort of attention they’d already started to attract. Who could see them? Were people watching, getting turned on by the entertainment and committing it to memory so they could get off on it later? Would they try to take advantage of the situation, thinking they had a right to her body, too? Her handsome stranger was knowledgeable enough that she trusted he would honor and respect her safe word if she chose to apply it, but would he be able to thwart others who wouldn’t give a damn?

“We’re getting off at the next stop,” he rasped in her ear.

Relief flooded her, but it was quickly overrun by confusion when she opened her eyes and glanced up at the map.

“The next stop?” Emma questioned. There was nothing at the next stop. Due to renovations, that station was practically deserted. “Are you su--”

His hand tightened around her inner thigh, his fingers digging into the sensitive flesh and making her eyes water. “Are you questioning me, Swan?” he growled.

“No, sir,” she exhaled breathlessly, and a flurry of butterfly wings took off in her stomach at the way he said her safeword.

As they approached the next station, her handsome stranger began to guide her forward, his hand wrapped around the back of her neck as he called out for people to make room. Once they’d exited onto the platform, he walked her past the main exit to a tunnel further down. She noted how he kept a vigilant eye out, making sure they weren’t followed off the train. Perhaps, he too had become concerned with the spectacle they were creating and the unwanted attention and trouble it could have garnered.

Now, completely alone and tucked away in the shadows of an alcove, he pressed her against the wall with her hands braced against the stuccoed surface and molded his body to hers.

“Before we continue,” he murmured between nips and kisses to her ear and neck, “anything you wish to tell me? Any particular words you wish to express?”

She knew he was asking for her consent to carry on, giving her a chance to use her safe word if she wasn’t completely on board with what might come next. The anticipation and excitement igniting her blood and throbbing between her legs made it impossible for her to say anything except a provocative and slightly coquettish, “No. I have nothing I wish to say… sir.”

With a hum of approval he feverishly yanked at the ties on the back of her dress, dropping the fabric of the halter top and exposing her chest. He wasted no time, filling each of his hands with her spilling breasts; groping, kneading, and skimming over them with touches that alternated from painfully rough to lovingly tender.

“Does your lover approve of you going out dressed this way?” he gruffed into her ear, the stubble along his jawline scratching against her cheek. “Like you want to be fucked? Like you want to be used? Would he get off on seeing you this way?”

“I don’t… h-have a lover,” she stuttered, her teeth sinking into her lip and muffling the groan attempting to escape her throat at the feel of him rolling her nipples between his fingers. “Sir.”

He grunted, an almost proprietary and possessive sort of sound that made her skin react in an eruption of raised flesh and forced her breath to catch.

Abandoning one of her breasts, his hand skimmed down her body and lifted her skirt. A series of sharp, forceful tugs caused the band of her underwear to snap and the torn pair of panties fell down one of her legs, resting around her ankle.

“Bloody hell, you’re fucking soaked,” he groaned into her skin, working a brand into the slope of her shoulder as his fingers slipped through her folds and coated themselves in her pooling arousal.

Emma’s nails scratched into the rough texture of the wall in front of her as one, then a second, then a third finger curled into her heat and the base of his hand applied exquisite pressure to the ache throbbing through her sex. His fingers worked quickly over her cunt and clit, bringing her to the brink from the way he pumped and curled within her, then removing them altogether, in order to flick and polish the pulsating, needy bud hooded within her folds. The mastery of his movements, combined with the utterly delightful filth he whispered and grunted into her ear had her on the edge of desperation.

“Please,” she whimpered, arching back into him so she could reach around and card her fingers through his hair.

“Please what, Swan?”

“Please,” she moaned, as his lips and tongue did delicious things to the pulse point on her neck.

“I wanna hear you say it, Swan,” he rasped commandingly into her skin, the rhythm of his fingers against her clit just shy of the tempo she desired. “I wanna hear you beg for it.”

Her knees nearly gave out when he slapped her sex, sending a shock wave of pleasure through her body that culminated with a wanton cry from her lips.

“Shhh, love,” he admonished in her ear. “You wouldn’t want any disembarking passengers from the next train to get curious and find us in such a compromising position, now would you?”

“N-No, sir,” she panted. “No, I wouldn’t.”

“What do you want then, Swan?” he goaded, bringing her back to ecstasy’s edge.

“I-I want…” She fisted a handful of his hair and wet her lips as her hips rocked and swiveled in a vain attempt to gain the friction she needed. “I want to come!”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes! Yes, please! Please let me come!”

She could feel his wicked grin when the corners of his lips lifted against her skin. “As you wish.”

Clamping a hand over her mouth, he mercilessly fucked her with his fingers until she screamed against the callouses on his palm. Tremors of pleasure coursed through her and colors erupted behind her eyelids.

She was still enjoying the aftershocks when he pulled his fingers from her core, and took his hand away from her mouth. Collapsing forward, she supported herself against the wall as he fumbled with his belt and zipper before shimmying his pants down to his knees

“I’m going to fuck you now, darling.” The low timbre and graveled quality in his voice made her shiver in anticipation. He tapped against the cleft of her ass, then teased the slick folds of her center with his cock as he inquired, “Unless there is a specific word you wish to say to me first, love?”

Pushing her ass back into his groin, she swiveled her hips and stated, “No, sir.”

“Thank fuck,” he growled before guiding his length into her wanton and greedy pussy.

The joint sound they made was utterly obscene, as were the ones that followed; especially when he lifted one of her legs, hooking the bend of her knee into the crook of his elbow so he could drive himself deeper into her depths.

“So. Fucking. Tight,” he chanted in staccatoed breaths. “So. Fucking. Soft… So. Fucking. Perfect.”

Emma lost herself in the slide of his cock and the way it filled her with each thrust. She wasn’t sure how long he fucked into her before the tell-tale tightening of another impending release began to build, but she wasn’t going to be left at his mercy again. With one hand still braced against the wall, she reached down and toyed with her breasts, pinching and rolling her nipples between her fingers and sending zips of pleasure down to her clit. Once she’d worked them back into taut peaks, she reached between her legs and began to furiously rub at the throbbing nub.

“That’s it, Swan,” he praised, wrapping her ponytail around his hand and pulling her head backward. “Touch yourself, love. Make yourself come. I want to feel you come around my cock.”

And feel it he must have. No sooner had her second orgasm ripped through her than she felt his rhythm falter as guttural sounds and groanings deeper than words reverberated through the alcove.

They both collapsed into the wall in front of her, though he was careful to make sure he wasn’t crushing her. A long minute passed as they worked to stabilize their breathing, then another grunt fell from her handsome stranger’s lips as he slipped out of her and a wash of warmth began to seep down her thighs.

Lowering her leg back down, he gently placed a reverent kiss to her shoulder and panted, “That was…”

“A one time thing.”

With their tryst at an end, Emma went back to her usual, assertive self, and took back control. Stepping away from the handsome stranger, she proceeded to set herself to rights.

After tucking himself back into his pants and zipping them up, he offered her an endearingly lop-sided smile. “Here, love. Allow me to help you with that.”

She rebuffed his attempt to help her tie her top back into place with a curt, “Thanks, but I’ve got it.”

Clearly taken aback by her attitude and tone, he pawed at a patch of skin behind his ear and said, “Apologies, love, but have I… have I done something to vex you?” Something flashed in his eyes and his tone practically dripped with concern and distress as he continued, “I thought… you never used your safe word, so I… bloody hell, please tell me you wanted this, too.”

“Of course I did,” she assured him, not wishing him to panic or berate himself after such an amazing experience. Placing a calming hand on his chest, she smiled up at him. “Sorry if I gave you the wrong impression. I…” Her mind went blank. This was the first time she was really getting a good look at him and those piercing blue eyes of his were making it difficult for her to concentrate.

One of his brows rose and a smirk played at the corner of his mouth, causing her eyes to drift down and stare at his pinked lips in fascination, wondering what they’d feel like pressed against her own… or other places.

Focus, Emma!

“Look,” she said, clearing her throat and dropping her gaze as she smoothed out her dress. “We both got what we wanted and it’s over now, so let’s not pretend there’s gonna be anything more between us.”

“There could be,” he said, closing the space between them so he could slip a finger beneath her chin and bring her face up towards his. “If you wanted.”

Again, it took her a minute before she remembered. “Well, I don’t.” Sidestepping him, she began searching the ground around them and wondered aloud, “Where did my underwear go?”

The man joined in the search then walked a few steps away, towards a darker part of the tunnel, before reaching down and plucking her panties off the ground.

Swinging them around his finger by the one strap that was not snapped, he smirked and said, “I have half a mind to hold onto these as a memento of our time together.”

When he held them out for her she flicked her gaze up and gave him a smirk of her own. “Keep them.” Trying to shrug off the fresh swell of arousal coursing its way through her bloodstream, she tossed her ponytail over her shoulder and quipped, “They’re of no use to me now, anyway.”

With one last look around to make sure she hadn’t left anything behind, she started to turn for the opening of the alcove when his words stalled her departure.

“So, that’s it then? We’re to be two ships merely passing in the night?”

Heart hammering away in her chest, she took a calming breath before replying, “We’ve passed closely enough, don’t you think?”

This time, before she could make another attempt to leave, the man reached out and gently wrapped his hand around her wrist. “Tell me, please,” he said with an earnestness that almost had her losing her resolve. “Just who are you, Swan?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” She meant to apply the same quipping sass she had before, but the words came out more breathless than she had intended.

“Aye. Perhaps I would,” he murmured, stepping further into her personal space. “Won’t you even tell me your name?”

Her gaze flicked down to his hand then back up to his eyes. His too blue eyes beneath pleading brows.

“Swan,” she told him, and his face fell.

Releasing her, he took several steps back, his Adam’s apple bobbing with disappointment. “As you wish, then.”

“No,” she said on an amused breath before clarifying. “That’s my name. Swan. Well… part of it anyway.”

His brows jumped up his forehead, then a delighted smile spread across his face before he schooled his features and brushed his thumb against the corner of his mouth.

“And the rest of it?” he asked, a bit suavely as he loosely wrapped his arms around her waist.

Running her hands up his chest - his firm, hard-planed chest with a dusting of hair, evident by the wisps peeking out from his unbuttoned collar - she alluringly stated, “That’s for me to know… and, if you’re really serious about seeing me again, you to find out.”

His arms tightened, bringing her flush against him. “Is that a challenge?”

“Maybe,” she replied coyly, wrapping her arms around his neck.

She had to crane her neck to look up at him as he towered over her, his lips only a hair’s breadth from hers as he murmured, “Something you’ll come to learn about me, Swan… I do so love a challenge.”

The End.

(For real, K. The. End.)

Tagging the Curious Crew: (add to tag list)

(Please be advised that I only keep one tag list for all fic updates and new works. If at any time you wish to be removed, just shoot me an ask or a DM. No worries.)

@kmomof4 @jrob64 @zaharadessert @laianely @booksteaandtoomuchtv @the-darkdragonfly @undercaffinatednightmare @killianxswan @mie779 @motherkatereloyshipper @jennjenn615 @jonesfandomfanatic @anmylica @superchocovian @caught-in-the-filter @winterbaby89 @wyntereyez @stahlop @resident-of-storybrooke @gingerchangeling @exhaustedpirate @cocohook38 @donteattheappleshook @lfh1226-linda @teamhook @jackieorioncat @paradiselady19 @snowbellewells @earanemith @ultraluckycatnd @pirateherokillian @calmjoonie @unworried-corsair @teamhook @resident-of-storybrooke @tiganasummertree @captainswan-kellie @soniccat @kday426 @djlbg @fairytalepretzkle @maggiegreenvt @natascha-ronin @ilovemesomekillianjones @iamstartraveller776 @deckerstarblanche @shadowsaur @qualitycoffeethings @idristardis

[kmomof4]

HOPE YOUR DAY WILL BE FILLED WITH EVERYTHING YOU LIKE!!

lot of hugs from the silly french cocnut that i am ;p ♥

You silly French coconut!!!! I love you!!! Thank you so much!!!!

[hookaroo]

🤣🤣🤣 ILYSM 🤣🤣🤣

Sorry to cause confusion/whiplash but I just needed to move things forward LOL... and add more whump 😇

Heheh your Optimus Less Prime you're too funny!!

You nailed it though! Lack is based on an orangutan, although the Wish Realm monkeys are a little bit more proportionate to each other for some reason haha... I don't know if you ever read the Redwall series by Brian Jacques, but it's kind of like that, where mice and cats and badgers have a little bit of size difference but not as drastic as in real life. I hope that makes sense 🤣

Notch is more like this: (gelada baboon)

And Quake more like a chimpanzee. And now you have secret knowledge because you'll probably be the only one that reads this 🤫😁

LOVE THE TENTACLE GIF BTW!!!!!!!! Poor boy always getting strangled LOLLLLLLL

And YES, disgusted faces are perfect too... icky situation, Killian can't help but get involved, right?

Laden of the Torn (15 of 25)

AO3 link Catch up on tumblr: One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Thirteen Fourteen Tagging @priscilla9993 @cocohook38 @killian-whump <3

***

If Killian had ever believed in karma or some sort of universal justice, the events of the past decade should have fully driven all such notions from his head. And yet, as he was surrounded by unfriendly simians wielding a variety of menacing weaponry a few days later, he found himself appealing to whatever spark of faith still lingered within. Risking his own life to save the child of a creature he barely knew--and a non-human one, at that--what act could be more worthy of a breakthrough in his own daughter’s predicament, however small? This time, surely?

He spread his arms slowly to highlight the lack of weapons. On the advice of Favor, he avoided meeting anyone’s gaze directly as he took stock of the Less warriors. They did not appear substantially different from their First counterparts: a wide variety of shapes and colors, generally sized somewhere between a cat and an average dog. Most with long, expressive tails but some without. The dozen-or-so monkeys watched him with caution but did not appear intimidated by his height.

Focusing on the razor-crested walls in the background, Killian addressed no one in particular with the words he’d been coached to say.

“Will the honorable Less Clan permit a lone member of the Torn entrance to your lands and an audience with Chief Lack?”

The reaction was mixed. Some shook their weapons and bared their fangs with hoots and hisses; others looked offended, derisive, or even mildly amused. A voice from off to Killian’s left rang above the others, and he turned to identify the speaker.

“You use our false name, assigned by our enemies, so it is no surprise you emerge from their cursed territory. Why should the Prime entertain an emissary sent by the Last?”

This Less warrior--or was it Prime? Gods, as if things weren’t confusing enough without each tribe having separate, derogatory names for each other--was one of the bigger animals Killian had seen of either group, with bronze fur and skin, markedly hunched shoulders, and canines the length of a man’s finger. If troop numbers weren’t enough to intimidate a trespasser, this creature alone might do the trick. Killian continued to avoid direct eye contact as he carefully crafted his reply.

“Your rivals… the Last… have indeed given me authority to negotiate on their behalf. I am entirely impartial in the matter and wish only to resolve the issue so I may be on my way.”

The toothy one looked to a comrade, who had been edging closer, peering intently at Killian’s truncated arm. This second Less warrior was less conspicuous, though its remarkable protruding nose gave it a face worthy of a double-take. Killian caught a curious glint in its eyes before it turned away and said,

“Lack will wish to see this Torn fool, regardless of any negotiations that may take place.”

Murmurs of assent came from every direction, and it seemed that this was enough of a majority to not require any further discussion. With far less chaos than the First had displayed, the ring of Less monkeys tightened to become an efficient escort, most at Killian’s back or flanks, weapons at the ready, with only two smaller members up front to lead the way. Pointed sticks prodded Killian into a faster march than he would have preferred, given the labyrinth of blades to navigate. At least he no longer had the ball and chain dragging along behind him, threatening to trip him with every step. Wryly, Killian wondered if the Less/Prime had the same affinity for insect-mediated wound care as their First/Last cousins. Hoping he would not need to find out, he picked his way deeper into hostile territory.

***

Chief Lack, leader of the Less Clan, would tower over Favor if the two stood side by side. But his most striking feature was the apparent inspiration for his name, and what Killian had taken to be idle chatter suddenly made a lot more sense. In fact, he wouldn't have been surprised to learn that Blackbeard had somehow heard about this detail and schemed to use the knowledge to his full advantage. 

The intimidating ape loped through the clearing on three legs, holding his handless left forearm tucked against his chest. His shoulders and upper arms were thicker than even Killian's were, and covered in long orange hair that rippled with every movement. He had a wide, flat face with the most human-looking eyes Killian had seen yet, and he was using them to peer intently at the alien in their midst as he chewed casually on a woody green stalk in his mouth.

Lack reached a smooth stone shelf in the center of everything and clambered on top. He sat heavily, eyes still judging Killian, and plucked the plant from between his teeth. 

“It is not often I meet a creature similarly tested by the gods,” rumbled Lack, gripping the stalk with his feet and beginning to strip away the tough outer fibers with his single hand. Killian could not help but envy the way his flexible toes made up for the lack of five fingers. “Have you been challenged since birth, or did your affliction begin later?”

Killian answered with practiced patience. “My hand was taken by an enemy, quite a long time ago now.” 

“That's more we have in common, then.” Lack bit off a piece of the tender inner shoot and chewed pensively as his gaze continued to bore into Killian. His eyes lingered on the empty wrist held casually at Killian’s side. “How many Warrior Ants?” 

Killian released a breath of mirthless laughter. “Far too many.” He nodded at the ape’s corresponding limb. “And you?” 

Accurate or not, the translator potion injected a note of bitter humor in Lack’s reply. “More than we had available. A mistake we vowed never to repeat.” 

“I'm sorry,” Killian winced, entirely genuine despite the reason for the confrontation. “I can imagine what that must have been like.” 

With a lazy flick of his limber toes, Lack dropped a length of emerald husk to the ground. “Indeed. I believe you are one of the few who truly can. But it appears we are both doing quite well now.” He took another mouthful of plant matter. “Let that fact provide the answer to your inevitable question. I allow both ally and enemy to name me by my weakness because it highlights my strength. I can lead just as effectively without a hand, and thus my foes are intimidated and my clan proud to serve under Chief Lack.” 

“Oh, is that the inspiration for the name? Here I was, thinking it must describe the state of your heart. Given your willingness to enslave a child.”

Killian risked derailing the so-far civil conversation with his sarcastic reproach, but he needed Lack to know he was not afraid of him. The big clan leader did not immediately react to the accusation.

“What do your people call you?”

“For a long time, I was called Hook. For many of the same reasons as you just mentioned. And as a bonus, it let everyone know exactly the sort of danger they would be facing should they be foolish enough to cross me.”

Lack did not appear impressed by the veiled threat. He took his time scraping the last of the pulp from the stalk, then tossed the empty husk to the ground. Idly scratching at the back of his neck, he bared his teeth in a threatening grin. 

“So, Hook-with-no-hook, I would guess by your coloration that you are among the elders of your species. For one possessed of so much life experience, you are surprisingly foolish to involve yourself in affairs you could not possibly understand.”

“It all seems quite clear to me,” snarled Killian. “It doesn’t take a sage to recognize evil.”

Some of the onlookers bristled at the statement, but Lack remained as cool as ever.

“Typical Torn arrogance. Your morals do not apply here. And you have no right to judge us based on Torn standards.”

Killian was in no mood for a philosophical debate. “The bottom line is, I am here on behalf of Favor to retrieve the princess; my reasons for doing so don’t really matter.”

“They do if we can persuade you to see our side and give up your impossible quest.”

“Don’t get your hopes up.” Killian kept his tone light, but his eyes were hard. “As it turns out, I have a soft spot for children who have been separated from their parents.”

“The child belongs to us now. It has been preordained. If you insist on becoming involved, you will regret it.”

“I have a long list of regrets. I guarantee this won’t be one of them.” Killian sighed and stretched his neck, feeling the pull of ant jaws where deeply embedded fishhooks had torn his flesh. Not a great starting condition for a duel. “How does this work, then; do I officially declare my intentions, or…?”

“Suppose we save ourselves some trouble? Whatever paltry sum the Last have offered you as a reward, we can easily triple it if you will forget this whole thing and be on your way. As the superior and soon-to-be ruling clan, it goes without saying that we have access to treasures well beyond that of our rivals.”

“Not interested. And if you’re truly serious about not wasting time, you’ll accept the fact that my mind is made up.”

Lack pulled a burr from his matted arm hair before responding, 

“You are declaring yourself to be the official champion of the Last?” 

“Aye,” confirmed Killian. 

“Very well. Then allow me to introduce you to the champion of the Prime Clan. Notch of the Prime, step forward and greet your opponent.” 

Predictably, it was the saber-toothed monkey who swaggered out of the crowd to face off with Killian. He was not the biggest of the warriors, but with those fangs, he would never truly be unarmed. Unsurprising, then, that he would be their top choice for champion.

“I believe our paths crossed on my way here.” Killian continued to survey his opponent, trying to avoid focusing on the obvious teeth and look for other details, strengths or weaknesses he should be aware of. By simian standards, Notch appeared well-nourished, muscular, and in his prime. Any scars he may carry were concealed by sleek, tawny fur. He had a slender tail that would help with balance and possibly entangling limbs, but Killian wasn't too concerned about its potential to be a weapon. The claws on the monkey's fingers and toes did not seem long enough to inflict any serious damage. As long as Killian managed to avoid the dagger-like teeth, he should be able to overpower the lighter creature in a wrestling match. 

“Well then. Shall we get this over with?”

Notch fixed him with a murderous stare. “Only if you are prepared to suffer a quick defeat.” 

“And then... let me guess: I become the main course at your victory celebration.” 

“The victor chooses his prize,” sneered Lack, and Killian thought he saw a hungry glint in the eyes of the Less audience. He smirked right back at them. 

“Just making sure of the stakes. Good to know exactly what it is I will be depriving you of when I win.” 

Bluster for bluster. Total confidence meets utter fearlessness. Show the enemy no uncertainty while attempting to inspire doubt in them... a routine so very familiar.

“Quake? You checked him thoroughly for weapons?”

Positioned just beside the stone platform, the black-haired ape that had also served as an escort stood leaning on his knuckles, alert and menacing. He was smaller than only Lack himself, and Killian thanked the gods that he wasn't about to face him in battle instead of Notch. He would be far less confident in his chances against that mass of solid muscle.

“Yes, Chief Lack. He was unarmed and carried only this map.” He produced the worn parchment from beneath his hind foot and handed it to his chieftain. Lack gave it a cursory glance and then tossed it aside scornfully. 

“Soon to be pitifully outdated.” 

Killian was watching Notch warily in case he decided to try and take him by surprise. But he addressed Lack as he tried to conserve his adrenaline for the battle's onset.

“I have your word? You will surrender the princess to me if I defeat your champion?” 

Lack bared his teeth. “As I said before, the victor determines the prize.” 

“Before your gods?” persisted Killian, and Lack inclined his head. 

“The gods are always watching.” 

The evasive answer had to be good enough, for not a heartbeat went by before Lack grunted, 

“You may proceed.”

Notch was on Killian like a furry cannonball, and despite his attempts at preparation, he was immediately gasping for breath as forty pounds of fury knocked the wind out of his lungs. He struck out blindly at his attacker, but the monkey was remarkably agile and avoided all but a glancing blow as he rappelled over to Killian's other side. Killian saw teeth flashing toward his face and ducked, again lashing out with both arms and trying to catch hold of the slippery beast. Long fangs slashed his temple as they flew past. His wrist connected with fur-covered muscle, changing its trajectory only slightly as a flailing tail whipped around his upper arm and secured Notch to his target. With some quick and effortless acrobatics, Notch swung himself over to Killian's opposite shoulder and immediately zeroed in on his face again, intent on either blinding him or ripping out his throat with those impressive canines. Killian's only hope was to catch hold of his adversary and use his greater mass to pin him, or as a last resort, try and break his neck.

Killian managed to seize a grasping back paw, and he yanked downwards with as much force as he could muster. Notch squeaked in pain but dug his front claws into Killian's chest, raking long scratches down his ribs as he tried to retain his grip. He sank his fangs into the muscle of Killian’s upper thigh, dangerously close to the vital blood vessels located there. Instinctively, before the fiery pain had even had time to register, Killian snatched at the monkey’s scruff, using his stump to pummel the creature's face as he searched desperately for the hinge that would force the jaw open. Elusive as ever, Notch abruptly released his hold, twisted out of Killian’s grip, and launched himself away.

Surrounding the combatants, the spectators remained mostly quiet, riveted by the battle but showing little in the way of reaction or support for their champion. The silence was a bit unnerving for Killian, who was accustomed to the reactions of his vocal supporters--or detractors, as the case may be. This complete stillness was rare. 

Killian had time for one deep breath, and then Notch was scaling him once again, dodging an off-balance kick from a wounded leg. Switching tactics, the clever monkey did not ascend in a straight line, but leapt in zig-zag patterns, sometimes dropping by a foot or two before springing upward again in a new direction. He was unbelievably fast, and with no hope of anticipating his next move, Killian was forced to rely on pure chance to allow him to grab a hold. He had been trying to keep his left arm elevated, a small barrier for the climber and meager protection for his targeted throat. But Notch began nipping at his legs and torso, quick bites that broke the skin just as often as merely bruising, and he was forced to return to ineffective clubbing as a deterrent.

Now throbbing and bleeding in a dozen places, a frustrated Killian dropped to his knees to make himself a smaller target. Notch's fur slipped through his fingers yet again, but as the monkey springboarded off his legs straight for his face, Killian succeeded in snagging a miniature hand. His momentum shifted, Notch still successfully whipped his tail upward and wrapped it tightly around Killian's neck. At the same time, the enraged animal released an ear-splitting screech, lunging for the trapped paw. Killian pulled with his right arm and pushed with his left, hoping to dislodge the tail squeezing his throat. But then those savage fangs were tearing into his hand, grinding at the bones at the base of his thumb, gnawing viciously. With an agonized snarl, Killian again focused his efforts on the powerful jaws damaging his hand. He'd lost his grip on Notch's paw, which was currently clutching his wrist along with its counterpart, and no matter how hard he struck him, his attacker was latched firmly, determined and impervious to any pain by the high of bloodlust.

White-hot, cramping anguish radiated up Killian's arm, past his elbow, and he gritted his teeth, burying terrifying mental images of life without a functional thumb. In desperation, he flung himself forward onto his elbows, banging Notch's head against the packed earth. The little bugger only clamped down harder, his tail squeezing with all of his strength. Beginning to feel lightheaded from the relentless assault on his hand, Killian growled and muscled his left forearm into the scant space between his other arm and the monkey wrapped around it. Even if he could not tear his tormentor free, he was finally in a position to use his weight against him. Killian wriggled his arm forward, pressing down on the monkey's chest, seeking his throat. Notch thrashed and clawed, struggling to breathe even as his fangs dug stubbornly deeper. With one final heave of effort, Killian's stump pounded against Notch’s chin. He felt the vibration lance through his thoroughly mauled hand.

Killian's breath hissed through his teeth as he leaned down harder. He could feel the grip around his neck beginning to slacken, Notch’s struggles becoming more feeble, although his teeth continued to grind away spitefully. Finally, just when Killian began to worry he might lose consciousness before the monkey did, Notch twitched once and then went limp. His tail slithered down to the dirt, his limbs lost their grip, and even the tension in his ferocious jaws drained away, giving Killian a bit more confidence that his opponent was not merely faking. He still had to wriggle the four knife-like teeth out of his flesh, though, and no amount of quiet cursing made that process any easier. 

The unnatural silence persisted as Killian sat back and attempted to catch his breath. His pounding heartbeat throbbed within his wounded hand. Blood trickled from each of the punctures and dripped off of his trembling fingers. Gingerly, Killian slipped his hand beneath his other arm, momentarily closing his eyes against the surging pain.

“Bring the princess,” he snarled. He heard nothing, and when he opened his eyes it was to find Lack holding up a commanding fist. The clan leader gestured toward the motionless form of Notch, and Killian could not read his expression. Two of the Less warriors slunk forward, keeping a cautious eye on Killian as they approached their fallen comrade.

“I didn't kill him.” Killian's voice held that edge of overexertion, post-battle fatigue and general done-with-everything-and-everyone prickliness. “But I heard no mention of ‘fight to the death,’ and I'm the clear victor here.”

“You are indeed,” confirmed Lack, much to Killian's relief. Had Lack indicated otherwise, he would have done what was necessary, but he would not have relished the task. He allowed the Less minions to drag Notch away for recovery.

“So bring me my prize.”

Lack shifted his position, never losing his casual demeanor. Though his expression was still hard to interpret, Killian did not like the devious glint in his eyes. “Let's discuss this prize of yours.” 

“What is there to discuss? You know exactly what it is I want.”

“Yes, but I don't think you understand what it is you are asking for.”

Killian grimaced as invisible fangs continued to gleefully gnaw away at the bones and cartilage in his hand. “Seems straightforward enough to me. I defeated your champion. Now I’m taking Princess Puzzle back to her family.”

“One champion,” said Lack. “One prize.” 

Killian's hand felt like it was about to explode. “Aye. And I'm only asking for one.” 

Lack extended his pointer finger. “The princess’ freedom.” He paused dramatically, then held up a second finger. “Your freedom.” 

He made a show of pretending to count the two digits, while Killian’s nausea grew at an alarming rate. 

“Just in case hand signals do not properly translate, this means ‘two’ in the language of the clan.”

Killian lacked the energy for rage. 

“Damn you,” he sighed. “I knew there would be something slimy about all of this. I wonder if your gods approve of your treachery.”

“There is nothing treacherous about it. I am merely listing your options. You can choose to let the princess go free, but then you are obligated to stay a prisoner. And a Last princess wandering alone in Prime territory… I believe the gods would call that fair game.” Pleased with himself, Lack leaned back on his hand and stump. “Of course, you are welcome to wage another battle. Should you defeat our second champion, you would be entitled to two prizes.”

At his leader’s side, Quake straightened almost imperceptibly, looking dangerously eager, confirming his rank. Going up against him would be a gamble at the best of times; chancing it now would be guaranteed suicide. Killian felt hollow, left with only the emotions he knew best: helplessness and failure. He’d been a fool to expect any other outcome. 

“Can I take some time to decide?” he gritted out. “I’m not fit for combat right now anyway. Surely the Prime Clan has that much honor.”

Lack did not even hesitate. “We will allow you one night to recover. In the morning, you will make your final decision.” He shot a glance at a creature somewhere behind Killian. “Go with Patch. She will dress your wounds.”

Killian caught the hazy outline of a monkey sauntering toward him before he turned his attention back to the smug face of Chief Lack. “Let me see the princess. Please. If I return empty-handed tomorrow… I could at least tell her father she’s okay.”

It would be a very small consolation. But better than nothing. And he knew that for a fact.

Lack watched him for a moment. Perhaps he saw something haunted in Killian’s expression. Or maybe he was just confident that this impudent visitor had no chance of derailing their glorious future, and felt generous as a result. “Fine. After you’ve been tended to, I will send escorts.” He made an eerily humanlike smirk. “You can tell her father that she will be well cared for. After all, she has a very important purpose to fulfill.”

Despite everything, that statement was enough to make Killian bristle, and he came close to lurching to his feet and tackling the ginger giant right then. But even the very beginnings of tension in his arm reminded him why that would have been so extraordinarily foolhardy. He squashed his fury, saving it for later, just in case. And then his violent imaginings were interrupted by a paw on his elbow, and he decided to deprive Lack of the outburst he was likely expecting. Without a word, he struggled to his feet and turned his back on the pedestalled evil.

[colinoeyebrows]

Some "sweet shaving" (as Julie would say it) aka chest hair

Happy Birthday Julie (@cocohook38)!!!