#cssns2019

[let-it-raines]

Not Your (soul)Mate {15/16}

Killian Jones doesn’t like the idea of soulmates. He sees how happy his friends are with theirs, but he still doesn’t like the idea, not when he’s found love and lost it time and time again only to still not know his sign. He has no markings on his skin, no voices in his head, but then one day he meets Emma Swan and everything changes. Because, well, he may not have ink on his skin to tell him who to love, but the very first time that he hears Emma’s voice he knows that she’s the one for him. Then again, that could simply be his desire talking. After all, for every word she speaks, he becomes aroused.

It’s not the worst thing in the world to be incredibly attracted to a beautiful woman, but things aren’t that simple when she doesn’t have any interest in being his soulmate.

He’s screwed. And not in the good way.

Rating: Mature (and more than just dirty jokes this time)

A/N: So, this is officially the final chapter of this story. We’ve still got an epilogue, so there is a little bit left, but this slow, slow, slow burn is coming to its conclusion. I finished writing this weeks ago, which is weird for me, but honestly, I have had the most fun posting this story. I personally love it and am super proud of it, but I also love how much you guys have enjoyed it since the very first chapter. Something that started off as being fun and silly as turned into one of my very personal favorites. So thank you❤️

And another gigantic thank you to @captainsjedi for absolutely capturing the essence of this story in every pic set she’s made for me. I wish I could have her do this for me all the time! And thank you to the organizers of @cssns for putting together this awesome event💕

@wellhellotragic you can read it now!

Found on AO3: Beginning | Current

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Tag list: @xellewoods @effulgentcolors @galaxyzxstark @thejollyroger-writer @idristardis @snowbellewells @karenfrommisthaven @skyewardolicitycloisdelena91 @scientificapricot @captswanis4vr @a-faekindagirl @emmas-storybook @searchingwardrobes @spartanguard @ultimiflos @jamif @initiala @dreameronarooftop15 @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @tiganasummertree @wellhellotragic @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @captainsjedi @teamhook @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog @superchocovian @ultraluckycatnd @cs-forlife @andiirivera @qualitycoffeethings @jonirobinson64 @mariakov81 @xellewoods  @cssns

-/-

The words hit him like a ton of bricks, pushing him down and crushing him under the weight so that he can’t breathe, so that everything is blurred and confusing and utterly heartbreaking.

Is his heart even beating right now?

He thinks that it is. It must be. And if it’s not, he’s in a hospital. They can fix that, right?

Right?

How is he being so sadistic right now?

Probably because he feels like his world is crashing down around him, that this good thing he had going for him is falling away and disappearing from his grasp before he ever even had time to hold it.

To hold her.

How could Emma ever possibly think that she is not his soulmate?

And how could it matter to her when he is so in love with her and would never in his life consider another woman, not when he knows how her kiss feels, how her laugh sounds, what it’s like when she smiles. She lights up his life like the constellations do in the night sky, and that light doesn’t diminish when the sun rises.

If anything, it becomes brighter.

“W-what are you talking about?” he stutters, his voice struggling to stay steady. “What do you mean we’re not soulmates?”

Killian watches as Emma’s bottom lip quivers, her fight between being angry and upset consuming her, and if he didn’t think he’d be pushed away, he’d wrap his arms around her shoulders and hold onto her, let her know that everything is okay. He wants her to always know that things are going to be okay.

“Killian”, she whispers, the quiver of her lips matching the shake in her speech, “I’m terrified right now because I don’t think we’re soulmates. We were idiots to think that, to think that we had a sign, and now we’re both  going to get hurt again because of it. And everyone will know, and it’ll be poor old us again that everyone pities.”

Bloody hell. What is going on?

“I still don’t understand, love.”

She nods her head and wipes at her eyes even though there are no tears falling.  “I don’t...when you speak, I don’t get turned on anymore, not like I did. You haven’t noticed?”

Bloody hell. He knows exactly what’s going on.

Killian smiles, something that stretches across his entire face, before stepping forward and cupping her cheeks, feeling the smoothness of her skin under his rough fingertips. She has no idea. Absolutely none. And he’s not sure if he’s frustrated with the whole situation or relieved that he can ease some of her fears, even if he can’t take back the fact that he told his brother. He knew that he was taking a risk in doing that, knew that it wasn’t what she wanted from him, but he has to trust that Emma will forgive him. They’ll have to learn to do that if this is ever going to work out between them, soulmates be damned.

But not his.

She’s wonderful and captivating and the absolute love of his life even if she doesn’t know it.

It’s likely time that she knows that he would make the choice to love her no matter what. This has always been about choice even when he didn’t realize it.

“You wonderful, oblivious woman,” Killian laughs, rubbing his thumb over her cheek to wipe away the real tears that have finally fallen. “The more I have fallen in love with you, the more I have become attracted to you and the soul that resides within you. Our idiotic sign has faded away as we’ve gotten to know each other, as we’ve fallen in love. It’s never been as intense as it was on the day that we met. It’s diminished with every conversation we’ve had. Don’t you see? This is how soulmate signs work sometimes, but we didn’t realize it because we were too caught up in the game. Sometimes they’re simply there to help two people find each other, and the rest is up to us. We had to make the choice and the effort to love each other. It didn’t force us into it, into this. And just because the arousal is gone doesn’t mean that we’re not still connected. If anything, it means we’re more connected.”

Her lips part and then close again while her long, dark lashes land against her cheeks, little flecks of mascara falling there. “How do you know any of that?”

“When you love someone, you know.”

Emma chuckles, even though it’s more of a hiccup, and he joins in, an over-exuding joy washing over him even as his heart still beats at a quicker rate, one that really should put him in a hospital bed

He has got to stop thinking that.

He should be focused on what’s happening at this exact moment. Emma isn’t running away. She’s listening to him, understanding their connection, and that’s what he needs right now.

That’s what they both need as the final puzzle piece clicks into place to make the story whole.

“I’m terrified,” she whispers as her hands come to clutch at his arms, nails digging into his jacket. “You terrify me because you are kind to me. You understand me. You…you get me, and that scares me because that’s never really happened to me before, not like this. No one else in my life would have ever made the effort that you did to get to know me. Our bodies were literally commanding that we sleep together, and we haven’t. I mean, I know there have been some close calls and that we’ve tortured each other this whole time, but you’ve gotten to know me for something other than my body when I could have easily been a quick fuck to scratch an itch. We could have read a freaking phone book to each other for foreplay.”

Killian barks out a laugh, leaning forward to press his forehead against hers, his heart finally calming down, finding peace.

“We can’t do that anymore.”

“No, I guess not…I understand why you told Liam,” she says, shocking him. He guesses that she’s calmed down, that his words have reassured her and assuaged her fears. Everything is such a blur except for Emma. They could have been in this hallway for minutes or hours. He wouldn’t know. “I haven’t known how to handle any of this either. It’s overwhelming and terrifying, and you obviously have a clearer mind than I do because I’m kind of freaking out right now.”

“I know, Swan. I know.”

“I don’t know how you’re so sure of everything all the time. How can you be so calm?”

She obviously couldn’t feel how fast his heart was beating two minutes ago.

“Don’t you know Emma? It’s you,” he whispers, pressing his nose into her cheek so that his lips brush over hers, too light to be a kiss but too close to be nothing. “You, even in your confusing madness, make me sure of things. Like you said, I’ve never had someone know me, understand me, like you do. I’ve never had someone choose me like you have. I have never loved someone like I love you.”

For a moment he wishes that he was like Liam and Elsa so that he could hear Emma’s thoughts, so that he could know how she’s feeling. He’s laid his heart on the line right here. He’s taken the leap of faith without knowing if there’s going to be a soft landing, but he guesses that’s the entire point of believing in something he doesn’t know.

It’s all in the possibility.

“I – I love you,” she says on a whisper, her grip tightening on his arms while her lips very nearly press into his, her eyelashes brushing over his. “I don’t know when it happened or how but I love you.”

“That’s all that matters to me, my love.”

He lets Emma make the choice to press up on her toes and slide her lips over his, connecting them in the way that he’s longed to ever since they were standing in a treehouse with fireworks exploding behind them. He gasps at the softness or her lips, of her body, pressed into him, and his hands slide into her hair so that he can grab onto her roots, holding her to him as her hands move to toy with the hair at the nape of his neck, making vibrations travel down his spine.

It’s everything and nothing all at once because it all feels brand new and yet exactly like coming home to the place that he’s always known.

Emma smells like she has all night, the vanilla overwhelming his senses, and she makes this little noise when he runs his tongue over the seam of her lips that he’d like to memorize. Or, really, he’d like to elicit that noise out of her every day for the rest of their lives so that he never has to go a day without having her be with him like this.

He’d like to kiss her like this, their lips tangling together in a mess of heat and love and everything he’s ever wanted in his entire life.

She’s everything he’s ever wanted and more.

“You taste like poptarts,” he speaks into her mouth, backing her up against the wall as her leg hitches up over his thigh and he rolls his hips into her, his arousal quickly appearing. He’s already half hard against her, and he’s never wanted her more than he does right now.

That is saying…a lot considering their history.

Emma loves him.

She clutches at his hair as she gasps, canting her hips up into his as she quickly brushes her lips over his once more, this time desperate yet light, a contradicting mess that he thinks describes Emma pretty well.

“I bet you like them now,” she giggles when his lips trail away from hers and starts working at the skin at her jaw, making the giggle turn into a gasp.

“The sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted.”

He keeps kissing along the underside of her jaw, keeps tracing her skin with his tongue, and he wishes there weren’t so many clothes between them, wishes that she didn’t have on this jacket and this sweater, especially as his hands move down the curves of her body until they’re snaking up underneath her sweater to feel the soft warmth of the skin at her stomach. He’s so distracted by how she feels, by how she tastes, that he doesn’t even notice that Emma’s hands have made their way to his ass, tucked neatly into the pockets of his jeans as she squeezes.

Damn.

“Are you still going to answer to asshole when I call you that?”

He bites down, hard, on the juncture between her neck and her shoulder, and she moans, the sound shooting straight to his groin. “I’ll answer to anything you call me.”

“Brother.”

“Except for that.”

“That wasn’t me, Killian,” Emma whispers, tucking her face into his shoulder, her nose brushing into his skin as her hair tickles under his nose all the while he realizes that it was Liam that just called his name.

Liam.

Holy shit.

His brother just caught him making out with a woman in a hallway like he’s a teenager again.

“Bloody hell,” he groans, stepping back from Emma and hoping to everything good in the world that his jeans can loosen a little bit. The loss of heat from Emma’s body is immediate, the distance between them vast, but then she intertwines their fingers and squeezes, grounding him again as he tries to catch his breath.

This night has been a whirlwind. He’s still not entirely sure that it’s real.

“Ah, sorry to interrupt and to…sorry about earlier,” Liam apologizes, rubbing at the non-existent scruff at his chin. “Emma, I hope you understand that I – ”

“It’s fine, Liam,” Emma promises, resting her head against Killian’s shoulder while he pulls their joined hands up to kiss her knuckles, thankful for her forgiveness of both himself and Liam. “I…I know neither of you meant any harm.”

“Aye, lass, I’ve just, well, I hate to interrupt this very public display of affection, but Eric’s just texted to say that Ariel is going to be in labor for quite some more time. They’ve pretty much commanded us to go home, and I’d kind of like to go tuck my kids into bed.”

“Are they sure? We can stay.” He knocks his hip into Emma’s then because as much as he would like to stay sitting in that booth with Emma and his brother, he’d really rather take Emma home. “What?” she laughs, looking up at him with flushed cheeks and kiss-swollen lips. “We can stay if we need to.”

“I know, but if Eric has given us permission to go – ”

Emma presses up on her toes to whisper in his ear, her breath warm on his skin, her voice dark. “Be patient.”

“I have been for bloody months now.”

Liam is watching them, even if he’s mostly glancing away, and he takes that as a sign that they need to get out of this hallway and move on with their lives, move on with each other. Tugging Emma along with him, they make their way back to the main parts of the hospital’s first floor, going back to the cafeteria to grab their things before they all go upstairs to wish Ariel and Eric goodnight and good luck, promising to come back after they’ve had enough time to love their child without the prying eyes of friends and family. He’s practically vibrating out of his skin every second that he lives, and as on edge as it’s making him, he never wants it to stop.

The woman he loves, the woman who loves him, is standing next to his side without hesitation, and he cannot think of a single moment in his life where he has ever been happier.

Yet he hopes that he will still have happier moments than this, happier moments with Emma.

After they wish Liam goodnight in the parking lot, a knowing, obnoxious smile gracing his brother’s face, they load up into his jeep. He doesn’t ask Emma if he should take her to her apartment or if they should go to his. He knows that she’ll tell him if she doesn’t like his choice. And honestly, he’s not focused enough to let himself overthink things.

The drive is somehow longer than the drive to the hospital, everything feeling much more urgent, and it doesn’t help that Emma, the minx, keeps tracing her nails higher and higher on his thigh, palming his erection through the material of his jeans. It’s madness, utter madness, and it takes every bit of strength in him not to pull over to the side of the road and have her in the backseat.

Or the front seat.

He’s not particular. Except he absolutely is.

“Darling,” he grits, glancing over her as he takes a right past Granny’s to ride down the street that will eventually take them to his apartment, “as much as I appreciate what you’re doing right now, it’s either going to end with us crashing or me fucking you in this car.”

“I like one of those options.”

“I’m sure it’s us crashing since you’ll have to do paperwork over it.”

“Not with our new electronic system, I don’t.”

He chuckles, unable to help himself or complain about the lightness that he feels, before reaching down to grab her hand, threading their fingers together before he brings her knuckles to his lips, kissing the soft skin.

“You and that paperwork.”

“It’s the worst.”

When he pulls into his apartment, he nearly misses his stop, slamming down on the breaks and sloppily pulling into his spot before undoing his seatbelt and leaning over to cup Emma’s cheeks in his hands and lick into her mouth, a flash of warm heat simmering all the way down his body. She’s barely spoken, and he’s losing his mind.

He’s never been so thankful for the two of them to be able to do this normally, to be able to do this right.

“You want to come inside, right?”

“I want you to come inside.”

“Dirty.”

“I know,” she laughs, kissing him once more. “Of course I want to go inside. I’ve never seen your apartment, and I have all kinds of questions about it.”

“Like what?”

“Currently? I just want to know if your bed squeaks.”

“I can promise you that it doesn’t, but we can test it out.”

The walk up to his floor is oddly calm, even with the underlying tension and heat between them, and he manages not to do something that’ll get him evicted from this place. But then he’s unlocking his door, opening it to let Emma step in before him so that he gets a delicious view of her ass while he can tell she’s taking in his apartment in the same way that he took in hers when he last visited.

“So the bedroom is just back there then?” she gulps, shrugging off her jacket and tossing it on the couch.

“It is.”

“Good, she smiles, twisting around and wrapping her arms around his neck before kissing him with absolutely no preamble to her tongue tangling with his and her teeth hitting against him, sloppy and wet and just about everything that he needs to make his knees go weak.

Damn.

He knew how she kissed, but it’s never quite been like this.

Unable to wait any longer, he starts walking her back to the bedroom, his hands on her hips as hers start unbuttoning his shirt. It’s not graceful, not in the slightest. He’ll likely have a bruise on his thigh from where he ran into an end table, but none of that matters when Emma’s laid out on his bed, her hair a halo around her head, and her smile as bright as he’s ever seen it.

“You are so beautiful,” he murmurs as he shrugs off his shirt and his jacket, letting them fall to the floor, and climbs over her as he starts to roll her shirt up so that he can see the firm muscles of her stomach, the ones that are currently twitching with every touch of his lips and press of his hands. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone as beautiful as you.”

“That’s saying a lot for someone who has lived as long as you have, old man.”

He bits down on her skin in response, not bothering to have a comeback of words. He’s still got so much to learn about Emma and how she functions, so much to learn about her tendencies to make jokes in serious conversations and talk over characters in movies, and he finds that he wants to learn it all just as he wants to learn every inch of her skin. He wants to map out the freckles and scars, the firm muscles and soft curves, everything.

When he gets her shirt above her breasts, which as encased in a lovely black sports bra with far too many straps and cutouts, she rises from the bed to take her shirt off for him, grabbing her bra along with it, so he’s left staring at round breasts with firm pink nipples that very well may have taken all of the words out of his mouth.

Imagining them after they spent that day in the water with Emma in a bikini is nothing compared to the real thing. He looks up at her for a moment, looks at the way she’s got her bottom lip between her teeth and her eyes widened, and it’s that fact that has him pressing up against her, her breasts pressing into his chest, and softly gliding his mouth over hers, slowly, gently, deliberately devouring her as she does the same to him.

As much as he wants to take his time, to savor this, to do this properly, he is but a man who has been so in love with a woman for a long time and can’t help himself from kissing back down her neck, lingering around her clavicle, before taking a pointed pink bud in his mouth and reveling in the moan that escapes Emma. Every sound is so similar, yet, so different, and he still finds that he wants to know them all even as his thoughts get muddled with the pleasure inching its way down his spine as all of his blood is rushing to his groin.

“Huh,” he whispers as he finally tugs her jeans down, kissing along her stomach and her hipbone to reveal a pair of navy blue underwear that have lacey edges. His chain falls onto her skin, his mother’s ring landing there, a silver glow against pale skin. “So you do match your underwear as dreadfully as you match your socks.”

“I wasn’t planning on anyone but me seeing it today.”

“I like it,” he promises, brushing his lips above the line of the material. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” she whispers, reaching forward to run her fingers through his hair and tug him up. “Is that kind of insane to say?”

“Love always is.”

“You sound like a weird philosopher.”

“I very well could be.”

“Take off your pants, you dork.”

“So demanding,” he laughs, fumbling with his belt and his zipper until he gets them undone, shimming out of them until his jeans and his boxers have joined the pile of clothes already on the floor. “I kind of like it.”

“Good. Lie down on your back.”

He raises a brow at her, but does what she says, will likely always do what she says, and he cannot help the groan that comes from the back of his throat as Emma’s nail traces down his chest, leaving a path through the dark hair that resides there, as she’s kissing his trembling inner thigh.

He wants her so much that it physically hurts.

Mesmerized as he is, he watches Emma pump his cock, once, twice, three times, running her finger over the tip, before she’s leaning back and taking her underwear off, exposing her to him as completely as he is to her.

There are no walls, no barriers, just them.

She climbs back over him, brushing her wet core against him, and he nearly dissolves right there knowing that he did that to her, knowing that this is real. She rolls her hips, making him brush over her again, and she leans down against his mouth, kissing along his jaw and whispering in his ear, her voice as broken as he knows his is.

“Do you have a condom?”

“Aye, in the drawer.”

She nods her head against his before leaning over, quickly opening up his bedside drawer, lingering there for a moment before she’s hurrying back down her body and rolling the condom down his length, her touch electric, all-consuming, everything.

Before he can even fully comprehend what’s happening, Emma has her hands propped up against his chest, her nails curling into his hair, and she’s slowly sinking down into him, her warm walls overwhelming and just right all at once.

“Fuck, Emma, fuck,” he grunts as she starts to roll her hips against him, not wasting any time in trying to set a pace that works for her, for him too. She’s mesmerizing, her hair falling down her back in waves as the moonlight shines into his bedroom, casting her in a soft glow. Her breasts bounce with each move of her hips, and he leans forward to grab her hips, to feel her flesh, and help guide her in her movements while he brushes his lips over hers, letting every inch of their skin be touching. “You feel so good, love. So damn good.”

“Killian,” she gasps, something he captures with his lips and curls away with his tongue. “Killian, just like that.”

He grunts in response, the words escaping him even when he knows that he finally has the chance to use them, and then thrusts his hips up into hers, their skin slapping together while his breath becomes labored and sweat begins to form at his hairline, down his back. Being with Emma is everything he ever wanted, everything he ever dreamed of, and yet nothing at all like what he imagined.

Nothing at all.

Better. Infinitely better.

With less grace than he wanted, he turns them over so that Emma is pressed into the mattress as he fucks her into it, picking up his pace while she hooks her ankles over his ass to allow him easier access, to let him go in deeper. He can feel her nails digging into his back, likely leaving marks, and that spurs him on further as things speed up, the slow, melodic pace no longer anywhere to be seen. Emma’s breaths are shorter, less frequent, and he moves his hand from the sheets to where their joined, rubbing fast circles that make her gasp as he keeps on encouraging her to let go.

“Come for me, my love,” he mumbles against her neck, the cold press of his chain in between their bodies. “Such a good girl. Just like that. Keep feeling just like that.”

Her walls flutter around him, but he mostly knows that she’s falling apart from the sound of his name in his ear, from the sound of her love for him following it. It may very well be the most wonderful words he’s ever heard, even if he’s already thought that multiple times tonight.

No part of him cares.

His hips rock faster and faster into her until he feels his own orgasm on the edge, curling over him and consuming him until he falls into Emma, all of the effort and exertion and love coming to head all at once until he falls on top of Emma, trying not to crush her with his weight but unable to fall onto the mattress.

“Why the hell did we resist that for so long?”

He barks out a laugh as he kisses her neck, rolling over onto the mattress and onto his back, before getting up to deal with the condom and a bit of clean up all as he still chuckles at Emma’s joke. When he turns back around to answer her, Emma’s still laid out on the bed, her legs spread apart, and she’s got this goofy little smile on her face that mixes in with the flush that still covers her entire body.

“Because,” he starts, climbing back onto the bed and under the covers, encouraging Emma to join him and tuck herself under the covers and under his arm, her leg pressing between his as her arms wrap around his waist, “you were the teeniest, tiniest bit stubborn, and we resisted the urge even though there were times where I was convinced that we were going to go at it in the middle of the street.”

“Me? Stubborn? Never.”

Killian lifts her chin up to look at him, thumbing at the indent before pressing his lips to her forehead. “Always, darling. I’m glad we waited anyhow.”

“And why’s that?” she asks, toying with the chain around his neck as he runs his nails up and down her spine, still trying to learn all of her curves. They’ve got the time.

They have all the time in the world.

“Well, if I’m honest, it’s because now, how we are now, I know that I want to be with you because it’s what my heart wants, not just my body.”

“Such a way with words. Speaking of that,” she sighs, slapping his chest as a playful smile forms on her lips, “you keep my letters in your nightstand. I saw them when I was getting the condom.”

Blush rises to his cheeks even though no part of him is ashamed of that. No part of him at all.

“And what of it?”

“I think it’s romantic is all. I keep your letters in an old purse in my closet.”

“Hmm,” he laughs, dipping his head to kiss her again, knowing he isn’t anywhere near having his fill of her tonight, possibly ever, “well, that doesn’t sound nearly as romantic.”

“I don’t think I’m going to ever live up to you. I’m too quirky for that.”

“I like your quirks.” He bops her nose, making it scrunch up. “I mean, how could I not like them when you’re someone who has literally never matched her socks in her life.”

“That’s not that weird. They even sell mismatched socks now.”

“Do you buy them?”

“No.”

“Exactly, Swan.”

He scoots down a little further into the mattress so that his cheek rests against the pillow and Emma’s nose brushes against his, the two of them exchanging soft caresses of lips as his hands traces the curve of her hips, occasionally dipping his hand between her thighs and teasing her. It’s wonderful, all absolutely wonderful, and even though he knows that Emma doesn’t like the word perfect, it may very well be that.

But a broken kind of perfect, a better kind.

One day maybe the word won’t have such a sting to it.

They fall back together, slowly, gently, all at once. He lifts Emma’s leg over his hip and slides into her, slowly rocking into her as his tongue curls into her mouth, the heat overwhelming. They take their time, neither of them in any hurry as the rush of heat doesn’t seem to be demanding, until all of the sudden it is and they’re both calling out each other’s names.

The best part about it, though, he thinks, is that Emma holds onto the scars on his wrist, and keeps a hold of them, treasuring him for who he is, scars and all.

He and Emma talk, really talk for the first time, and it’s glorious. They get out of bed, if only because his apartment is cold and Emma wanted a t-shirt. He’s trying to hand one to her when she sees the ugly floral nightgown hanging in his closet, and she laughs so loudly that his neighbors can probably hear her. And when she puts it on, tying the band around her waist, he laughs too, especially at the way that she proudly walks around the room, her hair a tangled mess and her body enclosed in his one night stand’s mother’s bathrobe.

Only the two of them could have something like this.

He fixes them another cup of coffee, figuring tomorrow doesn’t have to be a day where they stay awake, and Emma sits on his countertop asking him about the books on his shelves, the ones that are his favorites and asking if there are ones that are there purely for looks. She giggles when he tells her that Liam has an entire shelf in his home full of books he’s never read, and he steps into her space, letting her legs wrap around his waist and her arms wrap around his neck. Her hands play with his hair, and he quite likes that she does that.

He quite likes a lot of things that she does.

Rather, he loves them.

He loves her.

“What is the chain around your neck for?” she asks, yanking it up before she runs her fingers over the cool metal. “You nearly always have it on.”

“So you’ve been watching me, love?”

“Absolutely, I particularly like your ass.”

“Funny, I like the same thing about you.” Kilian dips his head down to kiss her collarbone, running his tongue along the crevice. “The ring is my mother’s wedding ring. It’s not – my parents didn’t have a happy marriage, but it was my mum’s, you know? And Liam didn’t want it, so I took to wearing it when I could. It’s a nice reminder of her and how much I loved her.”

“I’m sorry,” Emma whispers, dropping the ring and running her hand up and down his arm until their fingers are interlocked, her hand soft and warm against his as they fit together. “I bet she was wonderful.”

“Aye, she was the best.”

“Will you tell me about her?”

So he does. He tells her about how she loves to read and dance and bake, how she loved the ocean nearly as much as she loved her children and how she always told him that the blue of his eyes came from the sea. He always knew that it wasn’t true, but he likes hearing the story regardless. It’s been so long since he talked about his mum, and it’s a breath of fresh air to get to talk about it now.

Emma is a breath of fresh air.

She’s a breath of fresh air who he takes over the back of his couch, fulfilling that fantasy before they curl up on the actual couch, and watch a documentary on World War One, undoubtedly the most romantic thing to watch. But then again, Emma does have a fondness for history in the way that he does. After a while, sleep begins to call to him, to both of them, but he’s not entirely sure that he wants to succumb, not when he is having a night that he knows is going to be one he remembers forever.

How could he ever forget?

At five, Killian’s phone dings, and he leans over the bed they’re now laying in to grab it, the screen bright in his face as he reads a simple text from Eric saying Lyla Fisher was born an hour ago and that she and Ariel are both very happy and healthy.

“You know, darling, I’ve just realized that we can always remember the day we first made love by little Fisher’s birthday. That’s a story I can’t wait to tell her when she gets older.”

“You will scar her for life,” Emma laughs, twisting in bed to sit up on the mattress, the sheets falling around her waist so that her hair barely covers her breasts. “Please do not do that.”

“Oh no, I definitely am.”

“You’re disturbed.”

“You love me.”

“Unfortunately.”

He reaches forward to pinch her side before pulling her onto his lap, kissing all of the skin that he can reach. “Well, that depends on who you ask because if you ask me, I would say that it’s a very fortunate thing to love me. Really, you’re the luckiest woman on the planet, and I – ”

“Killian?” she groans, pressing her finger to his lips. He kisses it, obviously.

“Yes?”

She smiles softly at him, one that he thinks…no, that he knows, means she loves him. “Please stop talking and kiss me.”

He smiles that same smile back. “I could talk to you forever, my love.”

[cssns]

Event Roundup Time!!!!

I am SOOOOOOO sorry y’all!!! I completely forgot to do an event roundup!!! Please forgive me!!! Fanmail from @killianjones4ever82 brought it to my attention and I’m so glad she did! We had an incredible summer and we need to have a post that can be easily accessed with all the fabulous fics and gorgeous artwork that dropped for the event! So without further ado, here we go!!!!

Under the cut, because this is gonna be a LOOOOOOONG post!!!

Here is a link to the entire collection of fics on ao3.

@welllpthisishappening opened us up this year with her first fic for the event, All the Subliminal Things. Rated T with four chapters. COMPLETE. Artwork by @resident-of-storybrooke.

Emma Swan does not believe in soulmates.

Or so she says. Because if her soulmate did, actually, exist, he should have shown up by now. So, she must be a fluke, a broken cog in a system that really doesn't make much sense anyway. It is, she figures, why she agrees to meet David's friend before Regina and Robin's wedding. This guy doesn't believe in soulmates either.

She's intrigued.

Until she hears him talk. And everything flips after that.

At the end of June, Laura posted All Was Golden In the Sky. Rated M and we have five chapters left. Artwork by @resident-of-storybrooke, extra artwork by @distant-rose and @optomisticgirl can be found on Laura’s chapter blog posts.

Magic is dying.

Emma knows it. She can feel it, the emptiness rattling around in her, like it’s trying to make sure she disappears as well. What she doesn’t know is what to do about it, because, suddenly, there is a man in Storybrooke claiming she’s the Savior and a seeress certain a prophecy promises the same and the last thing she expects is for her minimal amount of lingering power to pull her away.

To New York City.

And another oddly familiar man with blue eyes and a smile that sinks under her skin and makes magic bloom in the air around her. Things are about to get interesting.

@darkcolinodonorgasm posted One Day, a LadyHawke AU with artwork by @sherlockianwhovian. Rated T and we are two chapters in. 

By day, Emma is the beautiful swan gliding over the waters of Misthaven's pond, but when night falls, the voice of the wolf the people living in the little town hear is Killian's cry. The curse was meant to be forever, to keep them always together yet eternally apart. No force in Heaven would be able to break such spell, nor any force on Earth. Or so Emma and Killian thought.

Towards the end of June Sara posted Hidden Paths Between the Moon and Sun, the sequel to her Hades and Persephone AU, Until the Stars Are All Alight. Artwork by @sherlockianwhovian. Rated M with one of six chapters so far.

The King of the Underworld has never taken a vacation before, not a proper one and not one that lasted more than a few months. Now that his firstborn is capable enough to take the throne ad interim, Killian can finally show his beloved Queen the world, giving her the honeymoon they never had the chance to have. But the King’s plan doesn’t stop quite there.

@allons-y-to-hogwarts-713 posted original art Killian Falls for Siren Emma

Come all you pretty fair maids, whoever you may be

Who love a jolly sailor bold that ploughs the raging sea,

My heart is pierced by Cupid, I disdain all glittering gold, There is nothing can console me but my jolly sailor bold.

and Paranormal Photographers/Reporters.

When you hear the knell of a requiem bell Weird glows gleam where spirits dwell Restless bones etherealize Rise as spooks of every size

@donteattheappleshook posted Just Human Vol2, the sequel to her submission last year, Just, Human. Artwork by 1 2 by @djlbg. Rated M with five chapters. COMPLETE.

A continuation of last years CSSNS story Just Human. Now that Killian is a ghost and Mary Margaret knows everything, what does life have in store for a group of supernatural misfits? With the threat of Gold gone, Emma learns that sometimes just being human is the most complicated challenge of all.

@thislassishooked posted Wake Me Up Inside. Rated M with three chapters so far. Artwork by @tennant-the-tigger.

Killian Jones has lived longer than any man has a right to live. Most would argue that what he was doing was not living, but merely existing. The day he lost the love of his life was the day he lost the will to live, but instead of ending his life he inadvertently became the strongest being on earth and unfortunately indestructible. His mortal enemy followed him into immortality and craves the power only Killian possesses. With his brother by his side and the help of a quirky, blonde hematologist, who makes him question whether he is ready for death after all, he will fight against evil, but more importantly, for the cure.

@let-it-raines posted Not Your (Soul)Mate. Rated M with sixteen chapters. COMPLETE. Artwork 1 2 3 4 5 6 by @captainsjedi. 

Killian Jones doesn’t like the idea of soulmates. He sees how happy his friends are with theirs, but he still doesn’t like the idea, not when he’s found love and lost it time and time again only to still not know his sign. He has no markings on his skin, no voices in his head, but then one day he meets Emma Swan and everything changes. Because, well, he may not have ink on his skin to tell him who to love, but the very first time that he hears Emma’s voice he knows that she’s the one for him. Then again, that could simply be his desire talking. After all, for every word she speaks, he becomes aroused.

It’s not the worst thing in the world to be incredibly attracted to a beautiful woman, but things aren’t that simple when she doesn’t have any interest in being his soulmate.

He’s screwed. And not in the good way.

@shireness-says posted A Drowning Soul Will Clutch at Any Straw. Rated T one shot. Artwork by @hollyethecurious.

Though this is far from Killian Jones' first encounter with a mermaid, he's never met any quite like this blonde siren. Together, can they break a cruel curse?

@snowbellewells posted her first fic for the event, Face to Face in the Broad Daylight, her sequel to last years Run to Me (In the Dead of Night) in early July. Rated T with five chapters so far. Artwork by @branlovestowrite.

Here we have a sequel to my werewolf, alternate season two and beyond fic from last year’s CSSNS. You probably want to read that story "Run to Me (in the Dead of Night)" first, or it might be a bit confusing in places. This second story in the same universe partially exists just because I wanted to revisit these couples and enjoy a bit more of their fluffy happily ever afters. However, we may also see them get into some new surprises and challenges, and of course we need to see if Rumplestiltskin is still under control or back to his usual scheming and plotting. I hope you will enjoy. 

Marta also posted at the end of July A Story Told at Last. Rated T with three chapters. COMPLETE. Artwork by @branlovestowrite.

Historical Literature Professor Henry Mills has the chance of a lifetime before him. He might finally uncover the truth of a folktale that has intrigued him for years. But, when the whole story comes to light, will he be able to accept the story that needs to be told?

@thejollyroger-writer posted her first fic of three for the event, Love After Death: The Afterlife Hotel. Rated T one shot with artwork by @captainsjedi. 

Emma Swan has spent sixty years in the afterlife believing she was never going to meet her real soulmate, after believing in the wrong name tattooed on her wrist. But when she keeps seeing the same new guest of the Afterlife Hotel around, might she be able to learn how to love again?

Megan’s second fic for the event was What Happened in Berkshire. Rated G with two of three chapters posted. Artwork by @captainsjedi.

When Emma’s boyfriend leaves her for the woman he’s been cheating with, she accepts an offer from her hospital to move to England. While she is out celebrating her thirtieth birthday with her friends before they head back to America, she drunkenly kisses the statue of Captain Hook in front of Eton College, and he comes to life. Together, he and Emma try to figure out what this curse means for them by searching for the witch that cursed him in the first place — are they really True Love, as he wants to believe they are, or did Emma’s magic go awry?

Megan’s third fic for the event was Falling Paws Over Heels. Rated T one shot. Artwork by @captainsjedi.

Captain Killian Jones -- the notorious Captain Hook -- has heard all kinds of stories during his travels around all of the realms. But the story that has always interested him the most is that of the enchanting sorceress of Storybrooke, a small town in the Enchanted Forest's Misthaven, the sorceress who takes men to her bed, but will only give her heart to the man who befriends her cat. Will Killian be the one who finally has what it takes?

@gingerchangeling posted Luck of the Irish. Rated M with one chapter of seven so far. Artwork by @resident-of-storybrooke.

Emma needs parent volunteer hours. So she offers to chaperon Henry's upcoming field trip to the museum. Its just a pack of prepubescent angst ridden children, an exhibit about dead people, and a rock used in blood sacrifices with a curse carved into it. What's the worst that could happen?

@jarienn972 posted A Simple Spell. Rated T with six chapters so far. Artwork by @cocohook38. 

This story is my entry into the 2019 Captain Swan Supernatural Summer event and is my first venture into AU territory. Storybrooke remains our setting but I've switched up some of the characters and familial relations to better suit this tale of prodigal witch Emma who returns to her birthplace to learn lots of secrets about herself and cast a spell that could change everything.

@profdanglaisstuff posted The Very Witching Time. Rated M with six chapters. COMPLETE. Artwork by @gingerchangeling. Extra artwork by @mariakov81 can be found on Saira’s chapter posts on her blog.

Emma Swan is a hereditary witch, last in a long line of wise women who for centuries have guarded the coast of Maine and the small village of Storybrooke with their homemade cures and their ancient magic. She holds the delicate balance between magic and mundane, but now that balance is threatened by a new foe, one capable of bringing an end to everything Emma is and everything she loves. To defeat it she will need all her power, help from her friends and neighbours, and the loyalty of a very unusual dog who answers to the name of Killian.

@searchingwardrobes gave us the first of two fics for the event, An Education in Southern Gothic. Rated T with two chapters. COMPLETE. Artwork by @hollyethecurious.

Fact: there’s a graveyard between the football field and the science building. Debatable: a ghost haunts the halls of Misthaven Hills High. Emma Swan is about to get an education. Killian Jones is about to get a whole lot more.

Melanie’s second fic was titled Until the Day Breaks and the Shadows Flee. Rated M with eight chapters. COMPLETE. Artwork by @hollyethecurious.

Every night, she traces the contours of his body as Killian whispers words of love against her skin. But can Princess Emma ever be fully happy with a husband who only comes to her in utter darkness? A Captain Swan AU of the Roman myth of Cupid and Psyche.

@spartanguard posted Sick of Love. Rated M with three chapters. COMPLETE. Artwork by @sherlockianwhovian.

If Emma’s not careful, she just might bump into her soulmate. Physically. And while she might like the idea of what comes with that—an almost psychic connection whenever they make skin contact—she’d rather not deal with the awful withdrawal sickness that can come when they inevitably leave her; she’s got a son, so she doesn’t have time for that. So she keeps herself covered and thinks she’ll be okay. Until she meets Killian, who does the same thing. Will their barriers protect them, or just hurt them more?

@snidgetsafan posted Whom the Gods Love Die Young. Rated G (for the moment) with one chapter so far. Artwork by @tennant-the-tigger.

The bride bit into the shiny red apple as everyone cheered around her, the wedding ceremony ending with this ritual gesture. The clapping and hurrahs soon turned to screams of horror as Snow dropped the apple, choking and clutching her throat as she fell in her groom’s arms, a last I love you leaving her lips before she died, David’s screams the loudest of all.

David and Emma travel to the Underworld to claim back Snow after her untimely death. In order to do so, they're going to have to face the dark and mysterious God of the Underworld and complete his challenges.

Seems simple enough until you add magic, divine quarrels, and the worst thing of all: feelings.

@eastwesthomeisbest posted original artwork, The Love of the Samodiva Pts1 and 2.

In Bulgarian folklore Samodiva is an ethereal female wood nymph. She is unearthly beautiful and eternally young. Her hair is blond and long, her waist is thin and petite, her eyes can bewitch and dazzle or even kill. Any man who lays eyes on her instantly falls in love. Samodivas’ attire consists of long white gowns and shirts and a rainbow-coloured or green belt. They have a white mantel, also called a shadow, in which their power lies. They like to ride deer, using twisted snakes for reins and often carry with them bows and arrows.

If a huntsman accidentally kills a samodiva’s deer, she will make him blind or give him a disease which will inevitably lead to his death.

The wood nymphs live in dark forests, in big old trees, caves or forgotten huts which are near water sources, wells or rivers.

Samodivas can be spotted from spring to autumn. In winter they live in the mythical village Zmeykovo, which is located at the edge of the world and is a home to many mythical creatures. When they are on earth they are active at night and disappear immediately when the sun comes out, because they fear it.

At twilight, the samodivas go to fresh water sources, strip naked, wash themselves and their clothes which they lay out to dry in the moonlight. They keep a watchful eye on their drying clothes, because if a man steals their mantle, where their power lies, they turn into normal women and have to obey the man. After washing themselves and their clothes, the samodivas gather around and start singing and dancing. It is known that the samodiva’s songs are the most beautiful and their dances are the most graceful. If a late traveller sees the samodivas’ dance, he is enticed to join them and dances with them from midnight to dawn. When the sun’s rays appear, the nymphs disappear in haste and leave the traveller to die from exhaustion. The samodivas love music and often kidnap shepherds, so that they can play kaval (shepherd’s pipe) for them while they dance.

Samodivas are not always harmful. Sometimes they appear like normal working women and help with the harvest. They would especially help women with children. If a man does something good for a samodiva, she becomes his patron or a sworn sister. Sometimes, a samodiva can fall in love with a human and bear him children, who grow up to be great heroes.

Samodivas are forest creatures and therefore knowledgeable about herbs and cures. However, they never share their secrets willingly. The only way to obtain their knowledge is to eavesdrop on one of their gatherings.

@courtorderedcake posted two fics for this years event. Hallow rated E with eight chapters so far with accompanying artwork 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11.

"The Goblin King was prepared to host the Darkness, stealing Fae women away to their corrupted lands underneath the ground as concubines. The Darkness chose another in his stead, but not before this selected vessel enacted a devastating attack in its vengeance, revealing its hatred & rage. The battle was a lesson the old kings had forgotten; never underestimate an opponent. Many more lives were lost as they razed over any who dared defy The Goblin King's will. Only the pure love of our rulers united in matrimony, breaking the Vorpal Dagger, sealed the darkness and the Goblin menace away. The light flourished under their fair rule, and the queen bore a child as pure as moon beams, swan feathers, and starlight. They lived happily ever after, and shall be written in history as Heroes for All Time."

This is the history Princess Emma memorizes from the day she is born, paraded about and presented only with the highest protection. The palace is a cage she wishes to escape, desperately. Not careful what wishes she made, Emma discovers history is written by the victors - The Dark One has an entirely different version of the events that took place.

Roses, rated E with two of four chapters so far. Artwork by @eastwesthomeisbest.

A CS retelling of Tam Lin, the classic fairytale. Liberties taken. Magic and Fae BS in play.

@pirateherokillian posted Wanderer Redeemed. Rated T with just the prologue so far. Artwork coming soon from @tennant-the-tigger.

Emma, Goddess of Hope and Happy endings, finds herself in need and her only real chance of ever getting what she desires comes in the form of Killian Jones, a shunned outcast of their kind. A Modern-Day Gods Captain Swan AU written for CSSNS.

@ilovemesomekillianjones posted The Soldier, the Witch, and the Dragon. Rated M one shot with artwork 1 2 by @spartanguard.

When soldier Killian Jones shows up on witch Emma Swan's doorstep, two worlds will collide. He will learn of worlds and wonders he never imagined possible and she will learn that true love might just be in the cards for her. Witches, Dragons and Magic, Oh My! A CS story for the 2019 Captain Swan Supernatural Summer event.

@whimsicallyenchantedrose posted Until the Stars Are All Alight. Rated T with two chapters of twenty so far. Artwork by @clockadile.

CS LOTR au: When Emma Swan steals a yellow Volkswagen Beetle, she has no idea it will lead her toward an adventure filled with danger and intrigue, sacrifice and a love stronger than anything she could imagine. Tasked with bringing the Savior home, the elf, Killian Jones of Misthaven travels to the Land Without Magic. Can he convince Emma to fulfill her destiny before the Dark One regains power and takes over all of the Enchanted Forest?

And last but certainly not least, @teamhook posted Rionnag Dorcha Gorm (Dark Blue Star). Unrated with two chapters so far. Artwork by @hollyethecurious

It is said that evil is not born but made. This is how an act of kindness is twisted into a story about revenge. Emma and Killian are childhood friends until a tragedy separates them will another reunite them.

I’ve read all of these fics and they are all absolutely FANTASTIC!!! It’s been so much fun reading all these wonderful fics and staring at the gorgeous art that went with them!! Be sure to let them know how much you’re enjoying their hard work! The WIP’s will continue updating until they are finished and I will be back at the end of the month with everything that has updated in September! Until then folks!

[eastwesthomeisbest]

Captain Swan Supernatural Summer

My artwork for "Roses (Tam lin) - a wonderful story written by @courtorderedcake

You can read it here: AO3

******************************************************

@cssns @kmomof4

[allons-y-to-hogwarts-713]

CSSNS 2019 (1/2) - Killian falls for siren!Emma

Come all you pretty fair maids, whoever you may be Who love a jolly sailor bold that ploughs the raging sea,

My heart is pierced by Cupid, I disdain all glittering gold, There is nothing can console me but my jolly sailor bold.

@cssns

[darkcolinodonorgasm]

One Day (1/?)

Summary: By day, Emma is the beautiful swan gliding over the waters of Misthaven's pond, but when night falls, the voice of the wolf the people living in the little town hear is Killian's cry. The curse was meant to be forever, to keep them always together yet eternally apart. No force in Heaven would be able to break such spell, nor any force on Earth. Or so Emma and Killian thought.

A/N: hello hello hello!! Here it is, my first story for @cssns​ 2019! I’m so so so happy to finally share with you this fic! I’ve been in love with Ladyhawke since I was little and I don’t put watch the movie every time it’s on TV past me. I did it.

Anyway, you don’t need to have seen the movie - if you haven’t, though, do it!! - since all I took out of it is how the curse works. And some lines and scenes I couldn’t go without.

I can’t thank @profdanglaisstuff​ enough for her miraculous beta skills - this fic wouldn’t be as beautiful as it is without her help - and her suggestions, just like I can’t thank @sherlockianwhovian​ enough for the bloody brilliant, wonderful, amazing art she gifted me with for this fic! My eyes have permanently assumed a heart shape!

Many thanks to the mods of the event and the wonderful ladies in the discord chat: you are all amazing!

And now, on with the story! Hope you like it! :D

(and sorry for the awful summary, I tried my best xD)

(ao3) - (ffnet)

Sun filtered through the blinds, warming the bare skin of his back, muscles straining beneath the dermis, reminding him of the recent shift. He hated changing in his sleep, he hated it but also didn’t, because otherwise he wouldn’t be able to keep his eyes away from Emma’s.

Nuzzling his face into the pillow, Killian turned on his side, a soft pearl white greeting him. She was asleep, as usual, her long slender neck resting on top of her body, her beak pressing into her feathers, much just like she used to do when they were still complete human beings, when she always sought his body warmth, her feet cold and her nose a piece of ice.

His mouth curled up in a smile as he sighed, the muscles in his back screaming as he stretched out his arm and gently caressed the soft feathers. Emma wiggled a bit under his warm touch. Although they spent half the day in animal form and were not able to talk to one another unless it was through recorded videos, they acted as if they were still human. Every time Killian would caress her bare back while she still was asleep, Emma would wiggle her body, not wanting to be disturbed in her sleep, especially when Killian woke up with the bloody sun.

The irony, Killian fumed, shaking his head and turning completely on his side. Almost two years had passed but he still missed her body pressed against his, soft freckled skin smelling like her vanilla bodywash, the one she secretly loved but always claimed she needed to change. She’d be saying that since she was sixteen.

Once upon a time, the morning he was blessed to wake up with her next to him, Killian would usually take in her sleeping form, the curly mass of blonde hair covering half her face, lifting with each breath she took, tickling her nose so she would scrunch it, frowning in her sleep because her own hair disturbed her. He would then push the golden strands away from her face, and Emma would just snuggle close, throwing her arm around his torso.

«Good morning, love,» he whispered, caressing her swan neck with his knuckles, his wedding ring glinting in the dim sunlight. Killian sighed. He missed when she would bat his hand away and he would catch it, intertwining their fingers and admiring the light catching on his mother’s ring, the one he’d used to propose.

Opting to let her sleep after the surely long night she’d had, Killian nuzzled her neck again before getting up and grabbing a clean pair of boxers. He was glad the only thing the curse didn’t take away from them were their wedding rings, as if they were part of them.

As per usual, every time he woke up, Killian would step in front of the tablet they’d set up to record video messages for one another. Sometimes there would be more videos recorded during the day – or night – if they felt nostalgic or wanted to tell the other something exciting or something new about their research.

Pressing the gallery app, he found only one video, recorded around five a.m., definitely at the police station. He remembered being there after his nightly run. He hoped he hadn’t hunted down one of Peter’s rabbits. The man would probably kill him, Killian wouldn’t put it past him.

Killian clicked onto the video without playing it, taking his time to admire how beautiful she was. He hated that he could only see her in photos or videos, never with his own two eyes. His eyebrows shot up as he watched her face, her curls tied in a messy ponytail and thick black-rimmed glasses that were slightly crooked on the bridge of her nose. Behind them, Emma’s eyes had dark circles around them, as she usually had every night when she worked both at the police station and on their project.

Unsurprisingly, she was wearing one of his sweatshirts. Much like him, Emma clung to anything that belonged to him he would leave around, whether it was clothes, a note, food the other made, little gifts. They still yearned for that part of humanity they couldn’t live, that normal part that had been ripped away from them and they were desperately trying to take back.

«Hey, babe,» Emma’s tired voice greeted him after he pressed play. He sighed, mirroring her smile; despite her tiredness, Emma still managed to give him the brightest smile she could. «It’s, ugh, it’s just about five, which you already know anyway because I’m one hundred percent sure you still look at which hour it’s been recorded so you can check how much sleep I actually get.» She sighed lovingly, biting her lower lip as she used to do when she was remembering something happy – or had a naughty thought. Even after all this time, he still vividly remembered how she would look up at him from under her eyelashes, green eyes glinting with mischief.

In the video, Emma brought her eyes back on the screen. «Anyway, nights here almost as boring as Storybrooke’s. Am I a bad person if I say I don’t miss Leroy? I probably am. I don’t care. Which makes me even worse. Oh well, I’d rather be dealing with Zelena’s calls all nig- No. No, wait, nopes. I take that back. Zelena’s calls are the worst. But you know that already. It’s her voice! I hate it, so high-pitched! And she complains about everything. How can she keep going on both day and night?» She shook her head, clearly tired of the young woman’s calls about flying monkeys. There were none, thankfully, both he and Emma had checked. Multiple times.

«So, while nothing happened at work, aside from Zelena calling. Once. Huge record. But. I’ve went through some old books I might have secretly taken from the library – thank god Belle’s not here, though I really miss her research abilities. I bet we would’ve already found a solution by now.»

Ah, Belle, the petite, witty librarian and one of Killian’s best friends despite their age difference. Which wasn’t much, but perhaps it was that what made their friendship so special: they were an unusual pair, had started off definitely with the wrong foot but had ultimately bonded. Killian missed Belle, as much as he missed everyone else. There were people, though, he missed more than any other inhabitant of Storybrooke.

«However, I’ve found this… thing. I don’t know what it is, exactly, but there seems to be a scroll, something called the Sorcerer’s scroll. The book I’ve found, a very, very strange one, you’ll see, says the scroll has a prophecy written on it. However, what I’ve found out is that it can locate the “hidden town”. Or something like that. You’re better at ancient Greek than me anyway, so unless they meant Atlantis or Olympus, whoever wrote this book meant Storybrooke. I hope. Or… any town surrounded by a magical barrier? Ugh, I don’t know, Killian.» Emma sighed, taking off her glasses only to run her hand over her face. She was tired, and not because of the late hour. «I just want to go home.»

It wasn’t unusual for either one of them to have a breakdown, especially in front of the tablet: although they couldn’t physically comfort each other, they still knew the other would understand. Both Killian and Emma had had enough of Misthaven. Yes, the people were lovely, there, they understood and accepted them, but there was a reason why they’d been cursed, a reason why they not only were searching for a cure but also for a way back to Storybrooke.

As if on cue, the tattoo on his chest itched, the lion wanting to roar to life, the constellation inside it burning as if it was composed by actual stars. He sighed, pressing his hand above his heart, the slightly raised skin there pulsating at his every beat.

In the video, Emma’s fingers were tracing the buttercup on her wrist. They’d had them done at the same time, with Emma barging into Mulan’s house at one a.m.; the Chinese tattoo artist welcoming her with a dao raised, its shiny point aiming at Emma’s throat. Emma paid double for the tiny tattoo.

The silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable, but it wasn’t peaceful either. Outside, in the dark of the night, thunders roared like lions fighting for the land. Killian inhaled deeply, his subconscious making him feel the scent of wet wood and musk as if he was still in wolf form and his sense enhanced.

«Locator spells won’t work.»

Suddenly, Emma’s voice brought him back. He tilted his head, cataloguing the distress on her face.

«Of course they won’t,» she muttered to herself, worrying her lower lip between her teeth. «We need to find it, Killian. I just don’t know how. There’s this… prophecy, but it’s written in runic. If you weren’t such a Lord of the Rings nerd I would think it’s elvish.» Emma chuckled. The video didn’t make it justice, it wasn’t as warm as it was in real life, when her breath would tickle his skin or mingle with his own before one of them dove in for a kiss. «In fact, even though I’m not a language nerd like you are, I did make a thorough study of which kind of runes these are. Any guesses?»

Immediately, Killian stopped the video. Whenever they asked each other a non-rhetorical question, they would stop the video and would actively try to come up with an answer.

Now, although Killian was good at languages – more than Emma, honestly, but she was pretty good, too – he was a bit rusty when it came to runes. Liam had always been the better one at runic alphabets, something that had to do with his long trips to Norway. Or, rather, his girlfriend living there. Liam always denied he was with her, but the telltale signs of his embarrassment were always present.

Had phone calls still be a possibility, he would’ve called Liam already. Hell, they would’ve already broken the curse, probably. Instead, communications with Storybrooke had been abruptly cut off, every phone number nonexistent and, of course, mail didn’t get there. Nor emails, for all that mattered.

«Trick question, love,» he muttered, the beginning of a smirk showing up on his face as he shot a glance to her sleeping form, «it must be Elder Futhark, can’t be otherwise. Well, they could be Anglo-Saxon runes, if we followed the Arthurian legends and this so-called Sorcerer was Merlin. Can it be? Well, either or. The other ones are either a mixture or a descendant of Elder Futhark anyway.»

Killian sighed and his shoulders sagged. How he hoped he could tease her about runic alphabets and his knowledge of ancient languages, knowing fully well she loved that nerdy part of him.

Pressing the play button again, Killian was greeted with Emma’s laugh. «You didn’t even look it up, did you?» She shook her head. «Alright, alright, it’s Elder Futhark, of course. I’ll let you get the exact translation, I’m tired, going to drink lots of coffee and try to put some of the data in the system. Geez, this police station is even worse than Storybrooke’s.»

As if on cue, Emma brought a mug up in front of her which, of course, was Killian’s, the one with a pattern of ships, anchors, wheels, compasses and other nautical objects, one of the many she’d gifted him when she was going through her mug phase.

«I’ll leave the book in the living room when I come home. Oh, before I forget,» Emma added, pointing a finger at the monitor, a warning glance at him, burning him as if she was there in the flesh in front of him, «don’t you ever dare bring dead rabbits to the station again. It stinks, Killian. I know Fenrir wants me to give him belly rubs and scratch behind his ears, but we need to draw the line at dead things you want to eat.»

Killian’s ears were now on fire. Bloody hell, he thought, embarrassment flooding through him. As always, he wasn’t proud of what he did when in wolf form, mostly because he didn’t remember much of it. The wolf always took over, it always followed its instincts. Thankfully, for one reason or another, the wolf never attacked Emma. In fact, it protected her, somehow, as if it knew she was its mate. Killian was thankful for that, if he could even consider himself thankful for that bloody curse, but better to be grateful than live with the regret of having hurt the love of his life. Or worse.

Aside from it being bloody awful, it was also bittersweet: both wolves and swans mated for life. Regina hadn’t even left them that.

«Goodnight, my love,» Emma softly whispered to him, her eyes shining with love as she looked at the webcam. «One day,» she whispered at last, moments before stopping the video, the last frame showing her loving smile, one she would reserve to him and him alone.

Whenever she smiled like that, he would smile back at her, the skin around his eyes wrinkling, and he would then dip his head and kiss her. Killian just couldn’t resist her, he never could.

«One day,» he vowed with a sigh.

It had been their promise since it all began: one day, they would be human again. One day, they would get back to Storybrooke, back home. One day, they would be reunited with their family.

Thankfully, Robin had the morning shift at the station, leaving Killian time to study the inscription on the scroll.                                                                                                                                      

Pulling a fresh pair of sweatpants from the drawer, Killian put them on, walking towards the laptop he’d left on the coffee table. Slightly squinting at the monitor – he wouldn’t succumb to glasses, he would not – Killian pulled up a pdf file of scans he’d made of rune books.

Next to the laptop was the antique book Emma was talking about. His eyebrows shot up in surprise. Killian might be a detective, but he also was a history nerd due to his mother’s interests and the fact that she’d raised him and Liam with stories of all the little details of Arthurian legends every night. Although it was the main reason, Killian loved history because he could learn the truths “normal” historians didn’t talk about, truths he could easily believe in, such as the existence of a wizard named Merlin and a Lady inhabiting a lake.

Thinking about his love for those legends automatically filled him with a sense of loss.

Since he was a young lad Killian had known what loss was. It didn’t matter that he still had his brother and mother, his father, the man he looked up to, left him. They’d not been separated by death, but by Brennan’s choice.

Killian’s reaction had not been a peaceful one, the blinding love he felt towards the man suddenly transforming into rage, snapping at the two remaining members of his family and whoever dared speak to him. Only the realization that he was hurting his mother had suddenly put a stop to his behaviour.

In order to make amends, in fact, Killian had started to show a genuine interest in what his mother loved, supporting her decision to write a novel – or twelve – and devouring all the information she discovered, coming to the point in which he would be the one to show her something new, an ancient manuscript or map Alice didn’t know existed.

Slowly, his mother’s sad expression once again became a proud one, and Killian soon forgot about his father’s abandonment.

Liam, on the other hand, continued keeping an eye on him. It wasn’t mistrust, not at all, he believed in his little – younger! – brother, but he couldn’t help being protective of Killian, watching him like a hawk and making sure he didn’t get into fights without knowing how to emerge the victor. Or at least how to not end up in the hospital.

With a sad and wistful smile, Killian took the tome, opening it to the page Emma had bookmarked. Elder Futhark wasn’t complicated, translating runes in modern English was more of a letter by letter translation instead of needing to search for the word’s specific meaning. However, since not every letter had a corresponding rune, people used to use a few runes in place of the missing letters. Or, as he could clearly see from the first line, they created new runes.

Killian’s brows knitted together, brushing his thumb over his lower lip, slightly pulling it down as he tried to recall what other manuscript presented made-up runes. There probably was no relation to the scroll anyway.

Another thing that didn’t sit right with him was the absence, in the tome, of the translation. Of course, the book was old enough to have been written when people could still easily read runes. But he wasn’t convinced.

Being the old-fashioned man Emma always fondly claimed he was, Killian took up his leather-bound notebook and a pen, carefully translating the runes.

Truth to be told, he didn’t even need to look up what each rune meant but, if Emma was right, he couldn’t allow himself to make a mistake. There was too much at stake, so much more than breaking their curse.

“I have travelled the world near and far, my search knows no bounds, my obsession will not leave me, my search will continue to the ends of the earth.”

If Killian had been confused before, now he was shocked. This didn’t look like a prophecy, but a journal of sorts instead.

Suddenly, fear gripped his heart, wrapping tightly around it like a serpent did its prey to keep it still while it fed.

“One thing I know for sure: the name of the Savior is Emma.”

One thing Killian Jones knew for sure, was that nothing was a coincidence. Nothing. Ever.

It hadn't been a coincidence that his mother had brought him and his brother to Storybrooke but, before that, it hadn't been a coincidence what happened on their last vacation in Cornwall.

Killian couldn't say he knew everything about magic, not when he had a brilliant best friend who was always three steps ahead with her knowledge despite not having an ounce of magic coursing through her veins, but what he knew was that Emma was no Savior. Well, not quite. From his part, she was, somehow, but it was mostly tied to what they went through in the past, not to some kind of prophecy.

He cast a glance at her sleeping form, a flash of how she would've looked in human form passing was fast as lightning in front of his eyes. Emma was a bed-hog, always claiming all the blankets for herself and yet managing to wrap her limbs around him like a bloody koala in order to steal his body heat.

His worry didn't fade, on the contrary, it increased. What did this scroll mean? Why Emma? What did she need to do? What other catastrophe would be placed on their path home?

“The Savior shall be my sister. The family must be complete.”

This had just become weirder. Not only that, the scroll didn't seem to allude to any form of magical barrier and how to cross them, nor to hidden towns in the Middle of Bloody Nothing, Maine

Not having the actual scroll in his hands, Killian couldn't place a locator spell on it to find its owner and get the answers he sought. He couldn't go door to door asking if anyone had ever seen the scroll either, assuming of course that said scroll was in Misthaven.

The little community, much like Storybrooke but completely different, too, had been very much welcoming, not glaring at them after hearing about their curse and acting quite nicely instead, offering them shelter when they needed it the most. Killian dreaded to think what living in a town where most people didn't believe magic existed would be like. They would've probably been forced to flee as soon as someone even got suspicious, hoping they would not be discovered. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, conjuring happy memories to wash away the horrifying images of his seaman laying on a lab table, scientists all around her or, worse, her small figure on the ground, blood painting her snowy feathers a deep blood red.

He wanted to retch.

Killian closed his eyes, breathing in deeply and focusing on his memories of Emma to quench his fear. She was still alive, there was no actual threat to her life unless they found a way back to Storybrooke. And even then, the monster that cursed them would soon take her last breath.

He was glad Sarah took them in, under her wing. How ironic: they'd been escaping from a mayor and got taken in by another.

Killian widened his eyes, a quiet gasp escaping his lips. What if… It was a long shot, and he might find himself back to square one, with nothing more than a bloody book in his hands, but his instinct was telling him he was on the right path.

After running away from Storybrooke - or rather, after they'd been forcefully teleported behind the town line - Emma and Killian had tried to cross the invisible barrier, but neither Emma's magic or Killian's newfound wolf strength could do anything against such a powerful curse.

They survived in the woods around Storybrooke for barely a month, Emma's transformation a horrible surprise when morning came. Whatever time they had they spent it trying to figure out a solution, a way to break the curse, all in vain.

They stopped living like that when Killian was almost killed by a hunter. They couldn't keep living like that, they deserved to live like human beings.

Hoping there'd be someone like them out there, they tried to follow magic, a bit tricky when you don't know what you're looking for, but they ultimately found a trace, a magic different from theirs.

Sarah Fisher had snow magic.

At first they were wary of her, as much as they wanted to trust someone who had magic, they’d ignored the danger Regina represented and they would not repeat that mistake again.

Sarah, however, was immediately friendly. Not knowing who they were, she couldn't have a plausible reason to hate them, but being cautious was essential, they couldn't risk being exposed or, worse, killed.

It was Emma who met her first, in the dead of the night, victim of her magic. Sarah, too, had been afraid, hence why she attacked Emma, sensing her light magic but also the curse.

After freeing her, Sarah asked what had happened to them. Although Killian wasn't exactly in control or the wolf, Fenrir - as Emma lovingly called his wolf, trying to make the best out of the situation - was still a part of him. Or, rather, he was Fenrir, but nothing like Ruby, he was not a werewolf, albeit sometimes even Ruby didn't have control on her wolf or didn't remember what happened during the night. What Killian remembered of his nights were fragments of distorted memories that almost seemed alien to his human mind, and, most of all, sensations.

Wanting, needing to know what he felt during his cursed nights, in the morning he would write everything down in his journal, a diary of sorts, much like a captain's log.

When Sarah showed up in the forest, Fenrir had been wary of her, the wolf’s hackles rising and a low, warning growl resonating form his throat.

The same night, however, although the wolf still kept his eyes on her, she showed she was  a good person. Emma's superpower - so-called, not her actual magic, of course - did go off on a few occasions, but never when Sarah spoke of Misthaven and how she wanted to help lost souls or, in their case, a lost family.

Misthaven became their temporary home, a little quaint town near Boston, one that, much like Storybrooke, was well hidden and isolated.

Not having any money to speak of - Killian contemplated the idea of producing a bag of money with a wave of his hand, only to be glared at and pecked  by Emma - Sarah gave them a house and a job as well.

It was surprising how little towns’ law enforcements always lacked deputies.[1] 

They became deputies, covering the roles they had in Storybrooke, under the guidance of Chief Bogo. It was almost like the old times, but ten times worse.

In Storybrooke, Emma and Killian used to work together, making one hell of a team. Not that the little town had this huge criminal activity, but when it came to actual, magical crisis, they could do anything together. Of course, they were never alone, they had a whole team, a family, who got their backs, but some victories they conquered together were the ones they savoured the most. And the most wonderful, amazing, satisfying victory of all was their little lion.

Killian’s heart ached at the thought, more than anything he wanted to get back to him. It’d been too long, two years too long.

Closing the laptop and doing something he never would do, he ripped out a page of the notebook, folding it. Rapidly, he changed into a pair of jeans and a shirt, foregoing the vest entirely, he didn’t have time to be fashionable, not when today he could find the answer he was seeking.

He needed to calm down, the last thing he needed was to fuck everything up because he was too impulsive. Quietly, so as not to wake Emma, he slipped into his boots, picking up the folded note and his leather jacket.

Before heading out of the door, Killian cast one last glance at Emma. Inside his chest, his heart swelled at the thought that, hopefully, soon he’d be able to see her again, to actually see her, He could talk to her, kiss her, map out her body once more, but even just being able to see the real her would be enough, videos and photos couldn’t compete against that feeling of loneliness and loss that wrapped around his insides like a snake.

A quick glance towards the open window next to the bed assured him Emma could easily come find him. It’d seem impossible, or utterly inimaginable for anyone without an ounce of magic or imagination, but both Killian and Emma, in either form they can take, whether animal or human, can always find one another.

In order to not stop their cursed counterparts from leaving the house, Emma enchanted a window with blood magic so only the two of them could go through it, adding a few more spells in order to not let the rain inside or the temperature to drop or rise according to the weather outside.

Misthaven’s layout was pretty much the same as Storybrooke’s, with little shops arranged on both sides of the town’s main street. There was even a diner, run by none other than the lovely Aunt Em. Granny would probably walk the whole way to Misthaven if she ever caught wind that Em’s grilled cheese was better than hers.

Unlike Storybrooke, however, Misthaven lacked a pawnbroker’s shop, a shop Killian could very well live without, just like he could easily live without its owner.

Anna, a bubbly redhead left in charge of the ice cream parlour Any Given Sundae after her aunt’s election, greeted him as she arranged the shop’s windows with decorations and chocolate sweets. He’d need to come back later, it’d been too long since he last gave Emma chocolates or managed to bake something for her. Besides, Anna’s chocolate, any kind she prepared, was simply divine.

It was perhaps his worst kept secret, but Killian had a sweet tooth, almost as sweet as Emma's, especially when it came to chocolate or his mother's marmalade. He chuckled at  the memory of how Emma, too, had been extremely fond of that orange marmalade, going almost mad with need but not wanting to ask Alice to make her some because she felt ashamed. Despite the decidedly happy outcome, that year had not been an easy one. Of course, Killian’s mother just knew, and had presented Emma with so many marmalade jars they still had one or two hidden in their house’s basement. But was it still their house? A horrible, nauseating sensation twisted his guts. Suddenly, whatever trace of hunger he’d had disappeared.

Clenching his jaw, Killian rapidly strode towards Sarah’s house, a nice little mansion not far from the center of Misthaven but pretty secluded anyways. He felt as if his heart had been stabbed a thousand times as he saw the resemblance to the blue Victorian house he called home.

Shaking his head to banish the unwelcome thought, Killian made his way towards the front door, which magically opened with a gust of cold breeze, chilling his skin and sending shivers down his spine, the hairs on his neck and arms rising.

Although that was a clear invitation, Killian, being the gentleman he always was, rapped his knuckles against the door, calling out for Sarah.

«In the kitchen, darling!»

He stepped inside, the door closing right behind him. He tried not to flinch: as much as he knew Sarah’s magic was good, that Sarah was good, Killian couldn’t help but remember who else used her magic for the littlest things. No, he wouldn’t and couldn’t compare the two: even with her secrets, Sarah was a good person.

«Killian! What a nice surprise!» Sarah told him, rinsing her hands and walking to him to wrap her arms around him. «How are you? How was your night?»

Killian returned the hug, her fresh scent of mint invading his nostrils along with a whiff of… was that curry? Throwing a quick glance at the table, Killian could see Sarah was making a new batch of ice cream. Or, well, trying to.

Bringing his attention back to the woman, Killian smiled fondly. «I’m good, as much as I could be after I inadvertently brought a dead rabbit to the station,» he admitted, his neck flushing red, up to the tips of his ears. Although he knew she wasn’t and couldn’t possibly be, Killian saw Sarah almost as a mother figure. It made him miss his mother even more.

Despite the pain, however, he was grateful she’d come into their lives, bringing them a spark of hope. And now, if his suspicion was correct, she would provide him with the means to get back home and break this curse once and for all.

Sarah laughed lightly, bringing her fingers to her lips to cover them like a lady would do. Killian always found that a remarkable trait of Sarah’s, it reminded him of Snow and how her manners were those of a princess.

«Emma must've not been too enthusiastic about it,» the woman replied, stepping back and moving to the table, fingers tracing the rim of a crystal cup to freeze the ice cream inside. Killian had never seen the process, but magic fascinated him, especially magic peculiar to certain people.

«Indeed she wasn’t,» he confirmed, watching as Sarah then proceeded to put the kettle on. Another thing they shared was their love for tea, albeit Killian had a more English taste while Sarah loved to try different flavours, much like she did with her ice cream.

Being used to her kitchen, Killian took two cups out of the cupboard and set them on the counter. «What about you? How was your day? Didn’t you have your weekly meeting with Zelena yesterday?»

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sarah shudder. Against his better judgement, Killian chuckled, earning an icy glare from the woman. «Don’t you dare laugh at me for my own disgraces, boy, Zelena’s obsession is a cross all of us must bear.»

Chastised, he nodded. «Aye, you’re right. I hate that Emma’s the one having to deal with her late night calls the most. It’s a wonder she’s not seriously snapped at Zelena already.» His Swan, always so fierce, but a tad short-tempered. In Storybrooke, after one too many nights in the cell, she’d yelled at Leroy that, if he wanted Astrid to date him, he should quit drinking and getting involved in bar fights. Suffice to say, Leroy visits to the station were more tied to a sense of gratefulness than to one beer too much in his system.

Killian doubted Zelena would actually listen to his wife, though, which would only fuel Emma's ire. She would probably cut off the electricity of Zelena's house and slash her tires. Once, twice, thrice, until she would just end up blasting the redhead with magic, ending her life on the spot. And to say, Emma had been able to keep herself from doing the same to Regina for years. Now, Killian regretted he'd talked her out of her very detailed plans to end the woman's life.

«If I wasn't the mayor, I would definitely approve of more drastic methods. Alas, I have to play nice. Believe me, I'd just love to freeze her just a tiny bit.» Sarah’s expression turned pensive. «Do you think hibernation could work? Could she tell the difference between hibernation and sleeping?»

The serious tone in which she spoke had Killian chuckling. «I don't think so. You could try.»

Sarah hummed, clearly considering the idea.

They worked in tandem and harmony, Killian taking over the tea preparation and Sarah arranging the table, any trace of her experiments disappearing and making way to toasted bread and a vast variety of jams and butter.

It wasn't unusual that they had breakfast together, or that she and Emma would sometimes dine at Sarah's place, with Killian either hunting outside or curled up at Emma's feet.

This, Sarah's friendship, the bond the three of them had created, was the main reason why Killian still refused to believe the woman had lied to them all this time.

Setting down the steamy teacups in front of them, Killian took place in what had become his chair. Perhaps Sarah never actually wanted to hurt them, but what he'd read wouldn't leave him alone, not until he had an answer.

Sarah looked at him from over the cup, ice blue eyes boring into his in search of an answer themselves «What's troubling you, Killian?»

For a moment, he felt like a ten-year-old, worrying about the world’s mysteries he couldn't find an answer to. It was then, when he was pouting and his gaze was lost, that his mother would brush strands of hair from his forehead in a soothing gesture and ask him what question he wanted her to answer.

«What do you know about the Sorcerer’s scroll?»

So much for having a way with words[2] [3] .

The teacup clinked against the table as it shattered, splashing scorching hot tea all over it and Sarah. A hiss filled the air, and he could see smoke rising from the woman's torso, right where the tea had seeped through the blouse and come in contact with her skin.

For a moment, Killian feared she would turn him into an ice statue, or freeze his heart.

Squaring his shoulders and clenching his jaw, he kept staring at her, holding her gaze. Worry clouded her eyes. Did she fear he'd hurt her? That he would expose her secret to everyone? What secret, though? Why was she so scared of him - or anyone else - knowing about the scroll?

At last, she spoke. «Unfortunately, too much and too little.»

Killian resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He waved his hand, and a cloud of crimson smoke enveloped the teacup. When the cloud dissipated, the teacup was fixed, and full of tea once more. He didn't do anything for her clothes, there still were boundaries he didn't want to cross. «Tell me.»

After drying her blouse and jeans, Sarah took another sip of tea, pondering. «I shall start from the beginning, then.» Another pause, perhaps the hope that it was only a dream. «For one, my name is not Sarah. It's Ingrid. I'm… I'm the runaway princess of Arendelle. You probably haven't heard of it, though wouldn't be surprised if you had. Arendelle, much like Misthaven and Storybrooke, is a sanctuary for us magical beings.»

Killian tilted his head, wondering why all this secrecy. Her next words answered his unspoken question.

«I was barely eighteen when it happened. I was the only one with ice powers in my family, aside from my Grandmother. You see, only a member of the royal family with snow or ice powers can rule, mostly in fear of what non-magic rulers could do, even if their blood has magic. Mind you, it's mostly like Denmark or United Kingdom, nothing like a true monarchy, not anymore. As far as I know, my niece ascended to the throne after I left, otherwise, I'd be the one with a crown on my head. But I didn't leave because I didn't want the crown: I ran away because I killed my own sister.»

Silence fell between them, Killian staring at Sarah - no, Ingrid - in confusion. While her words couldn't be misunderstood, her expression of true regret told another story. As it usually happened, there was more to what people spoke aloud, hence why he always knew to search deeper. Emma had her superpower, but Killian had an acute perception, too. There was a reason why he was good at his job. Sometimes, Emma wondered if they should move to a slightly bigger city, so he could put his brilliant mind to good use.

Killian cleared his throat so low it sounded like a growl. «What happened to her?» He didn't accuse Sarah, he merely gave her a little push to give him her own version of the story, one he wouldn't consider an excuse because he knew how easily someone could lose control over their power.

Sarah’s face twisted into a pained expression as undoubtedly vivid memories filled her mind. «It was an accident,» she began, eyes fixated on the reflection she saw on the still surface of her tea. «I didn’t mean to kill her, I love my sisters, even if I had magic-» She cut herself off, her lower lip quivering. Killian had never seen her so… broken. He almost felt bad for bringing it up, for making her tell him the truth, but he needed to know so he could justify the affection he still felt for her.

A shiver ran down his spine. It was cold in the room, too cold for it to be natural. Clenching his fist, Killian felt the skin of his forefingers grow ice cold. His concern was broken by Sarah’s voice.

«I’m the oldest of the three. Well,» she snorts without a trace of amusement, «I was: now there’s only me. It doesn’t matter, they’re better off without me.»

«That can’t possibly be true.»

If Sarah was surprised by his words, Killian was baffled. Yet, he didn’t regret them: even if Sarah, Ingrid, whatever, was a killer, the regret in her eyes and her words, but mostly the way she’d always acted towards them and the feeling in his gut, told him she wasn’t a monster. For the two years he’d been in Misthaven, Killian had witnessed a kind person always trying to make people happy however she could, nothing like his own mayor, who instead preferred making people miserable at every opportunity.

The grateful, tearful smile Sarah gave him broke his heart. Drying her tears with a handkerchief, the woman regained composure. It wasn’t the first time she had looked like a true queen, no, the way she led the town should’ve been telling, but only now Killian understood why she did.

«There was a Duke, much, much older than my beloved Helga, who tirelessly courted her. She was… flattered, and while I was suspicious, who was I to stand between her and her happiness? Voicing my doubts would only push her away even further. One morning, the Duke approached me. He was - still is, I assume - one who spoke his mind, never fearing any form of backlash when stating the ruler of Arendelle should always be the firstborn, whether they had magic or not. In short, he planned to either marry me and make me his breeding mare until I conceived a child with magic and then kill me off so he could raise the baby the way he wanted, making himself  their reigning King. He told me so, saying Helga would meet the same fate if I didn’t follow his requests.»

Killian was disgusted. His mind traveled through his memory, the Duke’s modus operandi was similar to Regina’s in the beginning, when her mother still was alive and protected her even if she went as far as trying to kill somebody.

Placing a hand over her joined ones, Killian tried to instill some courage in her, making her realize she was not alone, that he believed her.

Her smile widened slightly before a grimace took its place. «I was so enraged I lost control over my powers, but not immediately, no, the last straw was Helga overhearing and discovering his plan. Weselton didn’t plan on that.» Sarah closed her eyes, her expression suddenly tired. «Everything happened so fast. Helga started to yell in her attempt to defend me instead of her own betrayed heart, while Weselton shouted what a monster I was.» She shuddered, possibly hearing the Duke’s words so clear in her mind, plaguing her. «I was so overwhelmed I couldn’t keep my magic at bay. At one point, I knew I couldn’t let him get away with it, that he needed to be punished.»

Unwrapping her hands from the teacup, Sarah raised them in front of her and staring at them as if she only wanted to cut them off. It hit Killian how much they were shaking.

Sarah clenched her fists and tightly closed her eyes. «I don’t know what I wanted to do, whether I wanted to freeze him like a statue or just hurt him, but a blast of magic left the palms of my hands. It never hit the target.» She started to sob, and Killian rushed to stand up, coming around the table to wrap his arms around Sarah’s shoulders, hugging her tightly. «I never imagined he would use Helga as a shield,» she cried, cold tears soaking Killian’s clothes, wetting the skin beneath. The cold sensation he felt was like being hit by ice needles.

After several minutes, when Sarah stopped crying and finally stopped trembling, Killian offered her his own handkerchief. He then sat cross-legged on the floor, a big, warm hand placed on her knee.

All Killian could do was try to comfort her as he assimilated all the information. There was very little to say: he couldn’t tell her he forgave her, because there was nothing to forgive, her reaction was understandable and he would’ve probably done the same; he couldn’t tell Sarah everything was fine because it wasn’t. Killian bowed his head, his thoughts threatening to give him a nasty headache.

His head shot up when cold fingers wrapped around his warm ones. He returned the smile Sarah was giving him.

Clearing her throat, Sarah took a shaky breath before continuing her story. «Gerda never understood what happened, she only saw me crying o-over Helga’s remains. What I didn’t know, was that Weselton was in possession of an urn, one he was about to use to imprison me when I poofed myself away. I never understood whether it was my choice or my magic’s.» She cracked a smile. «You know it happens, don’t you?»

Aye, he knew that very well. Too bad his magic hadn’t helped either him or Emma when the curse came. Biting his lip, not wanting to push but needing to know. «What happened after? Where did you go?»

«I emptied my bank account before they could block it, before they could stop or find me. Nana never tried to reach me, not even once. She died a few months after Helga’s death. But what I know about Arendelle and my family doesn’t matter, you want to know about the scroll.»

His lips parted. «Sarah, I-» he started, but she shook her head, the gentle smile he loved back on her face.

«No, no, Killian, I should’ve known, I should’ve figured it would help you.» She pulled the chair back, standing up and making him sign to follow her. Silently, Sarah led him to the living room, heading then towards the marble mantel above the fireplace. On it, right at the center, between various photos of some of the people in Misthaven Sarah called friends, along with one of the two of them and Emma, taken almost one year before at Christmas, was a jewelry box.

Killian had always been fascinated by it, especially because of its particular floral patterns, which were painted on the wood with a technique called rosemåling. Killian only knew that particular kind of decorative folk art because of Liam’s own jewelry box, one he’d teased his brother about, and one he knew came from Norway. It was quite the coincidence, especially when the flowers appeared to be the same ones.

It was Sarah’s next words that made his blood run cold. «After finding an isolated cottage in the UK, I a man came to find me. He never gave me a name: I only ever knew him as the Apprentice.»

That was not possible. It just wasn’t. Too many coincidences, and though Killian was not one to believe in them, suddenly he dreaded what kind of link there was between the man, Sarah and himself.

Before he could ask her more about the old man, she started to speak again. «He put me in front of a choice: a cuff which would block all my powers forever or a scroll that would lead me to someone he called the Savior, a woman - one I didn’t know had yet to be born - whose name was Emma. At first, the cuff was the most appealing solution, but the Apprentice talked me out of it without actually saying a word against the cuff itself. You know, strange old men and women always seem to have a way with words.» A chuckle left her mouth, but all Killian did was smile tightly. «I took the scroll, and I embarked for America. At first, I spent a few years in Boston but I needed to get a job and, as the Apprentice suggested, work on my magic. So I moved to New York, where another man, the Dragon, taught me how to control it better. When he decided I was finally ready, I followed the scroll. It doesn’t have a map on it, just-»

«Runes. Elder Futhark. Aye, I’ve already translated it.» The impressed look she gave him made Killian blush a little.

«Then you know how cryptic it is.» At his nod, Sarah opened the box, taking the scroll out. It was exactly like the drawing in the book, long, the parchment could still pass as new, and of course was tied with a thin red satin ribbon.

It was so tempting: it wouldn’t take any effort to just reach out his hand and take it, take it and fly, run to Emma, and then, finally, go back home, back to their family, back to his little lion. His heart started to beat wildly, even faster than after a ten mile run.

«I stumbled upon Misthaven by mistake. At the time, a woman named Sambala was the mayor, but she was getting too old and she was afraid for her town’s future. When she discovered I had snow magic, she took me under her wing, much like I did you and Emma. Her lessons, along with the ones I’d already taken in Arendelle, made me the perfect candidate for the mayor’s position. As you can see, I won.» She turned around, twirling the scroll between her fingers. «When I stumbled upon you and Emma was the first time I’d thought about the scroll in years, and unfortunately not for its properties, but for what’s written on it.»

Killian nodded along with her words. «You’d finally found the person who would become your sister, you found your Emma.» There wasn’t resentment in his words, but he couldn’t help but feeling a pang of sadness at the thought that their nightmare could’ve ended much sooner.

Sarah must’ve read his feelings - she knew him so well, perhaps too much, even - because she handed the scroll to him, an apologetic smile blooming on her face. «Had I remembered it helped me cross Misthaven’s barrier the first time, I would’ve given it to you the moment you finished telling me your story in the woods. Alas, its existence, much like the painful memories related to it, lay buried deep inside me, lingering but almost forgotten.»

With slightly trembling fingers, Killian reached out. The moment his fingertips brushed the old parchment, a surge of magic shot through him, wrapping around his own in what could be considered a greeting before retreating back into the scroll.

He wet his lips, his mouth suddenly dry. «Do you think...»

«Do I think it will let you go through Regina’s barrier? I believe so, yes. I have to believe it can, much like you and Emma do. Don’t lose hope, Killian.»

Speechless, Killian looked down at the scroll resting in the palm of his hand. No, Killian knew this was the answer. Hope or not, Killian and Emma Jones had finally found a way to go back to Storybrooke.

They would finally be able to break Regina’s curses - the one she’d cast on them and the one enveloping the town. They would finally be able to save their family: their parents, Killian’s brother and their friends.

But, more importantly, they would finally be able to get back to the person they loved the most in all the world. Now, securely clutched in Killian’s fingers, was the means to save him, to save his little lion.

To save Henry.

[hollyethecurious]

An Education in Southern Gothic by @searchingwardrobes for the @cssns

Summary - Fact: there’s a graveyard between the football field and the science building. Debatable: a ghost haunts the halls of Misthaven Hills High. Emma Swan is about to get an education. Killian Jones is about to get a whole lot more.

~/~

“What is it, Swan, do you believe in ghost stories?”

“No,” she scoffs with a wave of her hand, “I just think it’s creepy that they had to build the school around tombstones.”

“So,” Killian says, voice dropping low as he saunters close to her, “you don’t believe that the ghost of Cora Mills wanders these hallways, angry at being hung on this very tree simply for taking vengeance that was rightfully hers?”

A shudder runs through Emma as a breeze rustles the tree again, as if it can hear Killian’s words. His breath against her ear doesn’t help either.

“While she continues to make breakfast foods?” she says to cover up her reaction.

She hopes the arch of her brow conveys her incredulity. Her students had claimed that sometimes you could hear bacon sizzling and the cracking of eggs. That sometimes you could even smell it. The ghost of Cora Mills eternally cooking that final breakfast she had set before Tara and Jonathan Lautour before stabbing them to death with a butcher knife.

“The story makes no sense,” Emma snaps, propping her hands on her hips. “Why make them breakfast when she planned on killing them?”

Killian leans closer, waggling his eyebrows. In an ominous voice he says, “So they wouldn’t see it coming.”

Emma shoves him in the chest and his laughter sings on the autumn breeze.

“You’re as full of it as the kids are, Jones.”

His laughter rings behind her as she marches back to the main school building to get her things before heading home for the afternoon. The cold dread that skitters down her spine is just her mind playing tricks on her.

Rating: T / Available on Ao3

[cssns]

And now it’s REALLY time!!!! Starting us off this year is @welllpthisishappening!!! Enjoy this chapter everyone and make sure to give her and @resident-of-storybrooke some well deserved love!!!!

All the Subliminal Things (1/?)

Emma Swan does not believe in soulmates.

Or so she says. Because if her soulmate did, actually, exist, he should have shown up by now. So, she must be a fluke, a broken cog in a system that really doesn’t make much sense anyway. It is, she figures, why she agrees to meet David’s friend before Regina and Robin’s wedding. This guy doesn’t believe in soulmates either.

She’s intrigued.

Until she hears him talk. And everything flips after that.

——-

Rating: Teen Word Count: I think we’re at like 5K’ish this chapter? AN: Hello, kind internet! I’m back with more words, this time of the soulmate variety as part of the @cssns! I was hoping to post this earlier, but then there was work stuff and lots of lacrosse and more work stuff and, long story short, this is a story and I hope you like it. Thanks to the mods for organizing this event, the ladies on the Discord for listening to me babble about work and stress-fueled writing and @resident-of-storybrooke for that top-notch art. There are more chapters, but I haven’t actually organized them, so I’m thinking we’ll be at three and an update like…Tuesday? Maybe?

Also on Ao3 if that’s your jam. 

——-

“No.” “Emma, c’mon it’s not–” “–No.” “But what about–” “–Negative.” “It could be–” Emma shakes her head, widening her eyes to a size that very likely makes her look as crazy as she feels. The whole thing is ridiculous. And pointless. And not entirely unexpected. In a way that is, actually, entirely expected. “No,” she says again. “Never. No, thank you. Votch. Nee. Nah. Non.” David almost looks impressed. Good. That took about all the mental faculties she’s got left after a stakeout that lasted far longer than she wanted it to and however long this conversation has gone on. Too long.

Any length of conversation is too long for this conversation.

“Did you say nee at one point?” he asks. “Like the Knights who say similar things?” “They literally say nee,” Emma sighs, falling back into the corner of the couch and she can just make out Mary Margaret’s laughter from the kitchen. “That’s their whole schtick. And yes, I did, actually. It’s no. In Dutch.” 

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[allons-y-to-hogwarts-713]

CSSNS 2019 (2/2) - Paranormal Photographers/Reporters

When you hear the knell of a requiem bell Weird glows gleam where spirits dwell Restless bones etherealize Rise as spooks of every size

@cssns

[hollyethecurious]

Rionnag Dubh Dorcha (Dark Blue Star) by @teamhook for the @cssns

Every town has an urban legend that they tell to scare kids, yet the stories tend to change with time. The real story sometimes gets lost. This is how this one is told...  

[cssns]

Hello all!!!! It’s that time of year again! Time to get crankin’ for CaptainSwan Supernatural Summer 2019!!!!

That’s right! We had such a fabulous time and got so many incredible fics last year that we’re doing it again! The biggest change for this year is that we will have betas for those authors who want and don’t already have one! Sign ups will open January 25 and run through February 8. There are still FAQ’s and prompt ideas at the top of the blog for more information and inspiration. If you have any other questions or just want to chat about the event, send me an ask here or on my main blog @kmomof4. @winterbaby89 has agreed to come back as a mod and @hollyethecurious will also be joining us! So everyone get ready!!! Last year was incredible, and we hope this year will be even better!!!

[thejollyroger-writer]

I loved this story so much last year in it's first installment, and I love this year's continuation of it even more! You guys are in for a real treat with this one 💕

Just Human Volume 2  Part 1/5

Ao3

A continuation of last year’s CSSNS story Just Human. Now that Killian is a ghost and Mary Margaret knows everything, what does life have in store for a group of supernatural misfits? With the threat of Gold gone, Emma learns that sometimes just being human is the most complicated challenge of all.

Thank you to the ever patient and talented @djlbg​ for her beautiful artwork and to the wonderful @thejollyroger-writer​ “the comma queen” for all her work and support as an excellent beta! 

PART ONE

“This is stupid.”

Emma sighs. “It’s not stupid, you’re just not trying.”

“I am too trying!” Killian practically whines. “The cup’s just stupid. It’s defective,” he says, glaring at the mug of hot chocolate on the table in front of them.

Emma practically rolls her eyes at his behaviour. They’ve been at it for an hour. So far, Killian has managed to pick up the cup a grand total of zero times - unless you count that one time where he accidentally sent it flying across the room in a moment of ghost rage. But he hadn’t actually touched it that time, so Emma said it didn’t count.

Killian groans and throws himself on the ground, sprawled out like a child having a tantrum. She’s pretty sure she hears him mutter some choice words about hot chocolate and where it can shove itself but she lets it slide.

“You just need to concentrate. Remember when you taught me? With the onion rings? Remember what it’s supposed to feel like in your hand. Ground yourself.” She takes one of his hands where it rests on the carpet they’re sitting on - well, she’s sitting;  he’s lying there, like an idiot. She’s not sure if it will help but she knows that when she’d been trying to get the hang of the whole corporeal thing, human touch - or at least Killian’s touch - had done wonders to help her feel more real, more alive, and she hopes she has the same effect on him.

Killian looks down at their fingers, intertwines them. A look crosses his face that she can’t quite read. It’s somewhere between disbelief and awe and something else. She understands. She remembers that feeling - the touch of something warm and real and far less like a memory than anything else. Touching Killian always brought it. And now… well now, with both of them being ghosts or spirits or dead or whatever they are - now it’s tenfold.

He traces her fingers with his own and Emma can swear she feels it all the way down to her bones. It’s like a heat and a magnet tugging at her insides and warming them up in the most amazing way. She hasn’t been dead that long - barely over a year - but she knows it can’t just be her memory failing her - nothing has ever felt like this before. It’s almost… ethereal. That’s the only way she can think to describe it.

Emma clears her throat. “Focus on what feels real,” she tells him, trying to draw his attention back to the cup on the table. He doesn’t look away from his hand as it drops her own and begins to trace patterns on her knee and Emma’s breath catches in her throat. She sees him smile a little before he turns his eyes to her.

“You feel pretty real,” he says, fingers trailing down her calf to her ankle and back up again.

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[cssns]

🎶Tomorrow, tomorrow, I love ya, tomorrow! You’re only a day away!🎶

SIGNUPS OPEN TOMORROW!!!! Are y’all ready???!!!!! I sure am!!!!

[cssns]

Here is ch2 of All the Subliminal Things by @welllpthisishappening, with fabulous art by @resident-of-storybrooke!! Enjoy everyone and give both these lovely ladies some love!

All the Subliminal Things (2/3)

Emma Swan does not believe in soulmates.

Or so she says. Because if her soulmate did, actually, exist, he should have shown up by now. So, she must be a fluke, a broken cog in a system that really doesn’t make much sense anyway. It is, she figures, why she agrees to meet David’s friend before Regina and Robin’s wedding. This guy doesn’t believe in soulmates either.

She’s intrigued.

Until she hears him talk. And everything flips after that.

——

Rating: Teen Word Count: Still around 5K’ish AN: This is really just five-thousand words of flirting and emotional backstories. And then more flirting. Kevin Jonas got married at the same castle Regina and Robin are going to have their wedding. So, I’m really sticking with the theme here. As always, I am floored and a little stunned by any response to anything I write, but this has just been delightful and you are all very nice. Thank for clicking and reading and sending very nice comments. I hope you guys enjoy this part too. And make sure to tell @resident-of-storybrooke​ how fantastic her cover art is. It’s fantastic. 

Also on Ao3 if that’s your jam. 

——

“Ok, favorite movie?” “No one is going to ask you that.” Killian shrugs. They’re in a different coffee shop, some unspoken agreement that they’ll only meet in public places, and his legs are stretched out impossibly far, arms crossed lightly over his chest with a shirt on that is making it very difficult for Emma to concentrate.

Honestly, it may be that stupid piece of hair behind his ear.

“You don’t know that,” he argues. “And, strictly speaking, my interest in being fake soulmates with you has no bearing on my interest in knowing what your favorite movie is.” Emma’s pretty proud of her distinct lack of reaction. She doesn’t gasp. She doesn’t groan. She makes no noise whatsoever at fake soulmates despite the certainty that the words actually cut their way through her.

“Was that supposed to be a compliment?” He shrugs again. It makes his shirt shift slightly, a patch of skin just above another pair of ridiculously tight pants and maybe he’s actively trying to drive her insane. Maybe the world just hates her. That seems more likely.

“It’s certainly how it was intended,” Killian says, taking a drink of another fancy coffee order. He got a latte this time. “And you’re avoiding the question, love.”

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[cssns]

We’re getting toward the end of the month, so I thought it’d be a good time to bring this back! Be sure to give our authors and artists lots of love!!!

October roundup will be up the first weekend in November!

And in case you missed it, CSSNS 2020 is a GOOOO!!! So everyone spread the word and for you authors and artists, start thinking about what you’d like to do! Since I’ve started writing this year, I’m actually going to write for the event for the first time! I’m so excited!!! Signups will open in late January!! Come join us!

Event Roundup Time!!!!

I am SOOOOOOO sorry y’all!!! I completely forgot to do an event roundup!!! Please forgive me!!! Fanmail from @killianjones4ever82 brought it to my attention and I’m so glad she did! We had an incredible summer and we need to have a post that can be easily accessed with all the fabulous fics and gorgeous artwork that dropped for the event! So without further ado, here we go!!!!

Under the cut, because this is gonna be a LOOOOOOONG post!!!

Keep reading

[kmomof4]

I’m so sorry this is late y’all! I’m getting old... All of the incredible fics and artwork from this summer in one place!!! Whooohoooo!!!! Make sure and give all our authors and artists lots of love!!!

Event Roundup Time!!!!

I am SOOOOOOO sorry y’all!!! I completely forgot to do an event roundup!!! Please forgive me!!! Fanmail from @killianjones4ever82 brought it to my attention and I’m so glad she did! We had an incredible summer and we need to have a post that can be easily accessed with all the fabulous fics and gorgeous artwork that dropped for the event! So without further ado, here we go!!!!

Under the cut, because this is gonna be a LOOOOOOONG post!!!

Keep reading

[jennjenn615]

Ahhhhhhhhhh!!!!! Finally!!!! They are in love and happy!!!!! I am loving this!!!! It’s been well worth the wait I will tell you that!!!! What an amazing journey this has been!!! And I know that I’ve been on you to get them together and get together and I thank you that you finally did!!!!! I have loved this story from the beginning and I will love it straight through to the end!!!! Amazing!!!!! Awesome!!! Yay!!!! Thank you!!!!

Not Your (soul)Mate {15/16}

Killian Jones doesn’t like the idea of soulmates. He sees how happy his friends are with theirs, but he still doesn’t like the idea, not when he’s found love and lost it time and time again only to still not know his sign. He has no markings on his skin, no voices in his head, but then one day he meets Emma Swan and everything changes. Because, well, he may not have ink on his skin to tell him who to love, but the very first time that he hears Emma’s voice he knows that she’s the one for him. Then again, that could simply be his desire talking. After all, for every word she speaks, he becomes aroused.

It’s not the worst thing in the world to be incredibly attracted to a beautiful woman, but things aren’t that simple when she doesn’t have any interest in being his soulmate.

He’s screwed. And not in the good way.

Rating: Mature (and more than just dirty jokes this time)

A/N: So, this is officially the final chapter of this story. We’ve still got an epilogue, so there is a little bit left, but this slow, slow, slow burn is coming to its conclusion. I finished writing this weeks ago, which is weird for me, but honestly, I have had the most fun posting this story. I personally love it and am super proud of it, but I also love how much you guys have enjoyed it since the very first chapter. Something that started off as being fun and silly as turned into one of my very personal favorites. So thank you❤️

And another gigantic thank you to @captainsjedi for absolutely capturing the essence of this story in every pic set she’s made for me. I wish I could have her do this for me all the time! And thank you to the organizers of @cssns for putting together this awesome event💕

@wellhellotragic you can read it now!

Found on AO3: Beginning | Current

Tumblr: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16

Tag list: @xellewoods @effulgentcolors @galaxyzxstark @thejollyroger-writer @idristardis @snowbellewells @karenfrommisthaven @skyewardolicitycloisdelena91 @scientificapricot @captswanis4vr @a-faekindagirl @emmas-storybook @searchingwardrobes @spartanguard @ultimiflos @jamif @initiala @dreameronarooftop15 @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @tiganasummertree @wellhellotragic @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @captainsjedi @teamhook @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog @superchocovian @ultraluckycatnd @cs-forlife @andiirivera @qualitycoffeethings @jonirobinson64 @mariakov81 @xellewoods  @cssns

-/-

The words hit him like a ton of bricks, pushing him down and crushing him under the weight so that he can’t breathe, so that everything is blurred and confusing and utterly heartbreaking.

Is his heart even beating right now?

He thinks that it is. It must be. And if it’s not, he’s in a hospital. They can fix that, right?

Right?

How is he being so sadistic right now?

Probably because he feels like his world is crashing down around him, that this good thing he had going for him is falling away and disappearing from his grasp before he ever even had time to hold it.

To hold her.

How could Emma ever possibly think that she is not his soulmate?

And how could it matter to her when he is so in love with her and would never in his life consider another woman, not when he knows how her kiss feels, how her laugh sounds, what it’s like when she smiles. She lights up his life like the constellations do in the night sky, and that light doesn’t diminish when the sun rises.

If anything, it becomes brighter.

“W-what are you talking about?” he stutters, his voice struggling to stay steady. “What do you mean we’re not soulmates?”

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