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wyntereyez · 1 year ago

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A Little Batty

Here it is... my @cssns contribution! It's late because I've been burned out, and it was originally going to have art by @spartanguard and be betaed by @ohmakemeahercules, but because I didn't get anything done until the last minute, I didn't want to impose.

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A Little Batty

Emma’s nights volunteering at the Storybrooke Bat Rehabilitation Center (locally referred to as ‘The Belfry’) weren’t something she’d ever imagined herself doing. She was no Disney princess; she didn’t have a natural rapport with animals. But The Belfry was her sister-in-law’s baby, and who was Emma to resist Mary Margaret’s pleading eyes? And she had to admit, any animal that let you roll it into a little burrito was cute.

Plus, her nights fell on the nights Henry was over at Neal’s. Though she didn’t think she was one of Those Moms who missed their children whenever they weren’t around, Emma admitted to herself that she was lonely when he was gone. Their creaky old house suddenly felt big and empty, and it became too much for Emma. At least at The Belfry, she could socialize without going to the effort of getting dressed up and going out in public.

Ruby was already there when Emma arrived. Unlike Emma, she did have a way with animals (“Not all animals; just creatures of the night,” she’d joked) and was the best at handling the animals when their cages needed cleaning.

And then there was Mary Margaret, who really was a Disney Princess, and you couldn’t convince Emma otherwise. All animals loved her, and she loved all animals.

They were gathered around Mary Margaret’s desk, discussing distribution of chores (Emma was not on cage-cleaning duty tonight, thank goodness) when they were interrupted by the arrival of William Smee, the man in charge of the local marina.

Emma thought at first he’d come specifically looking for her as sheriff, but he’d only nodded in greeting and headed straight to Mary Margaret.

He was wearing the thick gloves he used for dock work, and held what looked like a ratty old beach towel cupped in both hands. “Mrs. Nolan! I found a bat down at the docks. I didn’t know what else to do with him, so I brought him straight here.”

It was unusual for Smee to be working this late at night, especially past the tourist season, and Emma instinctively wondered why. She mentally scolded herself; she needed to stop being paranoid; not everyone did things for duplicitous reasons. Like her ex.

“Let’s see what you have,” Mary Margaret said. She opened the desk drawer and withdrew a set of the thick leather gloves they used when handling the bats. Smee pulled away the top layer of the towel, just enough to reveal his captive without releasing it.

Emma expected a large brown bat; they made up most of the local bat population, and thus most of The Belfry’s residents. She wasn’t prepared for when the towel fell away from a sharp, fox-like muzzle and huge eyes, topped with large, pointed ears.

It was a fruit bat. A rather large one, at that. It stared calmly back at them with its wide, dark eyes, and twitched its ears. It seemed completely unbothered at being a bat-burrito, suggesting it was accustomed to being handled. It yawned, exposing sharp canines, one of which had a small chip in it.

“Where did you find it?” Mary Margaret asked as she pulled on the thick leather gloves.

“He was down at the docks,” Smee said. “Nestled in a coil of rope. I almost missed him, but he squeaked at me. It’s like he wanted to get my attention.”

The bat squeaked, as though it were chiming in.

“He didn’t even put up a fight. He was easy to catch - you’ll see why,” Smee said as the last of the towel fell away, leaving the bat exposed in Mary Margaret’s hand. Annoyed, the bat spread its wings, and Emma ducked out of the way of the enormous right wing.

It was only after she righted herself that noticed his left wing, which Mary Margaret had caught and was gently holding. It was only half the length of the right, ending with a club of scar tissue just below what would have been the wrist. Mary Margaret was examining it critically, frowning.

“It’s an old injury,” Mary Margaret said, releasing the wing. The bat gave her a sour look and tucked it to his side. “No way he’s been living wild. He’s probably someone’s pet; a sailor, maybe, since you found him at the docks. He’s definitely used to being handled.”

He was also very obviously a ‘he,’ Emma couldn’t help but notice when the bat rolled over onto his back, his rear towards Emma. He looked towards her, gave a startled squeak, and wrapped his wings around himself.

Emma needed to stop anthropomorphizing the residents, because there was no way he could be embarrassed by accidentally flashing her.

“We’ll put him in one of the isolation cages for now,” Mary Margaret decided. “Just because he seems healthy now, doesn’t mean there’s nothing wrong with him. Ruby, I brought a banana for a snack; it’s in the break room if you could grab it for me, please?”

“Do you have any idea where he came from?” Emma asked Smee. Fruit bats were illegal to have as pets, and while Emma didn’t think the owner would get more than a fine, they could lead to a larger illegal animal trade organization. “Anyone new around the docks?” It was the wrong time of year for it, though; most of the boats that came to Storybrooke for the summer tourist season had departed in the last few weeks. It was possible one of them had left the bat, but that meant he’d been on the docks fending for himself for at least a week. He look too healthy for a pet that had been abandoned that long.

“We have one ship that’s wintering over for repairs, but he’s not the bat’s owner,” Smee said. He seemed very certain of this, but there was something shifty in his gaze as he said it. Emma prided herself at being good at detecting lies and Smee…wasn’t lying, not exactly, but he wasn’t telling the truth, either. Before Emma could pursue it further, however, Mary Margaret interrupted.

“Obviously, he can’t be released into the wild,” Mary Margaret sighed. “He seems pretty docile; we can probably put him in the bat educational program, assuming he’s healthy and remains easy to handle. Thank you for bring him, Mr. Smee. We’ll take good care of him.”

Smee took this as his cue to leave, but not without an odd backward glance at the bat.

Emma told herself the bat did not nod at Smee.

Ruby returned with the banana and began to peel it. At the sight of it, the bat began squeaking and straining towards it. “Someone’s hungry,” she cooed, and held it out. The bat’s mouth opened wide, and he tore off a chunk that looked like it should have been too large for him.

They let him eat as much as he wanted while Mary Margaret held him. When he was finished, consuming almost the entire thing (How? Emma wondered. Where did he put it all?), Mary Margaret said, “I need to feed the others. Emma, could you get some gloves and put this guy in the furthest isolation cage?”

Emma grabbed another set of gloves. “Isn’t he too big?” The cages were designed for much smaller brown bats; he’d be cramped.

“He should be okay for a few days. And since he can’t fly, we don’t have to worry about too little space. He should have enough room to spread his wings, at least.”

The bat chittered, and licked banana mush off its muzzle. “We’ll have more fruit for you tomorrow,” Mary Margaret promised. “A variety. How do you feel about strawberries?” She chattered on as she transferred him to Emma.

The bat squeaked excitedly.

Which was a valid reaction to strawberries, but couldn’t be in response to Mary Margaret’s words. Right?

Could bats pick up words, like dogs? Maybe he did understand ‘strawberries.’

Emma carried the bat to the back area, past the large, open enclosures that housed the permanent populations, as well as the wild ones that would be released as soon as they were ready. The isolation cages were smaller, designed to make it easy to catch a bat that would need constant care and observation.

She opened the door of the last cage, the largest, and gently lowered her hands. It took some prodding to move him off her palms, and at last he moved with great reluctance. He crawled across the floor of the cage to the bars, and immediately began to climb them to the top, unhindered by the missing finger bones of his wing, then crawled around the top until he found the perfect spot. He anchored his feet in place and dropped his body until he was hanging upside down, eye to eye with Emma. Then, with a great yawn, he pulled his wings around himself until only the tips of his ears were visible.

“Stay out of trouble,” she told him.

Emma could have sworn he’d winked at her.

~oOo~

Emma stopped by the marina at the end of her shift, curious if the bat’s owner had returned. Her attention was drawn to a ship she hadn’t seen before, a massive wooden ship that looked like it would be more at home in the Caribbean than in Maine. It was moored at the largest dock, and Emma saw it had no sails, nor any rigging. It must have been the ship Smee said was staying over for the winter, since that was the only reason to derig it. She hadn’t expected anything so… spectacular. The ship was gorgeous. She studied it curiously for several minutes, wondering who would own such a vessel, then shrugged and headed towards the main office. The door was locked, however; Smee had already left, and there was no one else on the docks.

She shrugged and headed to The Belfry.

Mary Margaret was already there, feeding the residents. It alway icked Emma out, to see her gentle sister-in-law feeding the ecstatic bats their mealworms.

“How’s our newest resident?” Emma asked.

“He was just waking up when I checked on him,” Mary Margaret said. “He looks alert, with no obvious signs of illness. The vet stopped by earlier to take some samples, so we should know soon if there’s any diseases we should worry about.” She frowned. “There was a bit of blood in his cage, but the vet couldn’t find any injuries. Did you cut yourself when you put him in the cage last night?”

“No,” she said, but examined her hands anyway.

“Huh. Well, if you’d like to feed him, there’s a bowl of fresh fruit in the fridge for him.” Mary Margaret grinned. “At least you’ll be able to feed this one without screaming,” she teased.

Emma scowled, because her revulsion to mealworms was totally valid, thank you very much.

Ruby had thrown a mealworm at her.

It had gone down her cleavage.

Emma was never going to touch a damn worm again.

Emma found the bowl of fruit, snagging a chunk of melon for herself before picking up the bowl and carrying it to the quarantine cage.

He was clinging to the bars of the cage when she arrived, his nose pressed to the fine mesh between the bars as though he’d been waiting for her. When he saw her - or, more likely, the bowl of fruit - he began to squeak excitedly.

Emma was charmed.

The name ‘Killian’ had been written on the paper taped to his cage, in fancy penmanship that Emma didn’t recognize.

“Killian, huh?” Emma asked.

The bat squeaked.

“Okay, if you say so.”

She snagged another piece of fruit - a strawberry this time, much to the bat’s indignation - then placed the bowl at the bottom of the cage. Killian quickly climbed down and hopped into the bowl, quickly losing himself in fruity bliss.

Emma laughed, then went to help Mary Margaret finish up.

“Who named him Killian?” she asked.

Mary Margaret frowned. “I thought you did. The name was there when I got here, and you were the last one to see him.”

“If I’d named him, it would be something like ‘Batty,’” Emma pointed out. “Or possibly ‘Dracula.’” She shrugged. “He seems to like it, so we may as well keep it.”

Mary Margaret gave her a strange look. “I’m sure he doesn’t care,” was all she said.

~oOo~

Killian’s test results came back clean. As long as his phlegmatic temperament continued, he’d be introduced to the other bats, though he’d be kept in a cage alone to accommodate his disability. He seemed fine with this; the smaller cage was beside the bigger one, so he could watch and communicate with the other bats if he chose. It also had bars that were easier to grip and climb. For a fruit bat with full, functional wings, it wouldn’t be ideal, but since Killian couldn’t fly, all he needed was enough room to stretch his wings to the fullest without touching the bars.

When he continued to be easy to handle, they decided it was safe to hold him without gloves. He seemed to like this, settling into Emma’s hands contentedly.

That was how she found out that bats purred.

“Oh,” Mary Margaret said. “He really likes you! Guess you’re his official caretaker from now on.”

Killian continued to purr in her hands. Emma decided maybe this wasn’t so bad.

Because he was so comfortable with people, even seeming to prefer their company, Emma took to carrying him around the sanctuary. Sometimes he’d be burritoed in a blanket, other times he’d drape over her shoulder, that incredibly long intact wing lazily hanging down. He seemed very curious about the computer whenever she played around with it at the desk (officially ‘doing paperwork’ for the sanctuary, but actually looking at memes) and she’d see his wide, dark eyes staring at the images.

He seemed especially interested in the staffing schedule.

Emma was also the only one he allowed to ‘fly’ him. It was something they did with elderly bats, holding them and carrying them around the sanctuary, wings spread, as if they were flying. Killian seemed bemused by the whole process, but allowed himself to be carried around.

Especially since the reward was always a bowl of fresh fruit - and gentle ear scritches from Emma.

~oOo~

Emma hadn’t intended to start dating again. Her divorce from Neal had been messy; he hadn’t been willing to let her go, despite his affair with his now-girlfriend Tamara. She thought she was done with men.

And then her sister-in-law introduced her to Walsh. They’d met when Mary Margaret had gone to the new furniture store in town, and she’d been charmed by his politeness.

Emma had tried to refuse Mary Margaret’s efforts to set them up, but then David had joined in. Her brother had thus far sided with Emma, and had talked Mary Margaret out of multiple attempts at a set-up. For him to approve of Walsh? That meant something. So Emma had reluctantly agreed to the date.

Walsh felt… safe. He was polite, respectful. Not particularly adventurous, which would have been a big turn-off once, but now it had appeal. Best of all, he didn’t argue with her every decision. She’d forgotten what it was like to be in a relationship with no drama.

One date became two, and plans were made for a third.

~oOo~

Emma arrived late to the sanctuary on the night of her second date. She hadn’t wanted to be out so late, but Walsh had admitted to being something of a night owl, and didn’t really eat until around nine in the evening. Emma had had to have a pre-dinner before dinner, because she knew she’d starve to death if she waited that long.

But she’d had more fun than expected. And eating later in the evening meant fewer diners, which had made the restaurant more intimate.

She’d liked it.

And the dim interior made it harder to maintain eye contact with Walsh. She’d noticed that he had a really intense gaze, and tried to meet hers as often as he could. It was… uncomfortable, for reasons Emma couldn’t really explain.

Emma put it out of her mind as she turned her attention on the anxious fruit bat, who was perched with his muzzle sticking out of the cage. At the sight of her, he gave several ear-piercing shrieks.

“Sorry! Sorry!”

Killian gave her a sour look.

“Hey! Don’t give me that! It’s not like you can tell time!”

He continued to glower.

“Okay, sorry!”

He tilted his head, considering. Then, with a sound that was almost a purr, he extended his right wing towards her thumb, snagging it with his clever little finger, and pulling her hand closer. He was about to pull himself onto her hand when he suddenly froze.

His nose twitched, wrinkled, and he bared his sharp little teeth. And then he did something he’d never done before.

He hissed.

Emma jerked her hands back. “Whoa! What’s with you today?”

He continued to stare at her as though she smelled rancid, and he wouldn’t come near her. Rather than stress him out further, Emma let him be. It wouldn’t hurt him to miss a night of flying.

~oOo~

A bat’s rejection shouldn’t have stung.

Killian continued to be edgy the rest of the night, so she left him alone.

After her shift, Emma realized she was too restless to sleep. Maybe it was a lingering excitement over the date, or maybe Emma really had taken Killian’s tantrum personally, but she didn’t want to go home. It was Neal’s weekend with Henry, and she couldn’t face being cooped up in that empty house.

So she went to The Rabbit Hole, Storybrooke’s only nightlife scene. She drew a few glances as she walked in, but they lost interest as soon as they saw she was off duty. She went straight to the bar and ordered a strawberry daiquiri, because apparently hanging around a fruit bat made you crave fruity things.

She’d been there maybe ten minutes when someone sat beside her. A richly accented voice that definitely did not send a shiver down Emma’s spine asked for a rum.

Emma waited until he’d been served his drink before turning to him and asking, “New in town?”

He turned, and Emma’s breath hitched when she met those blue, blue eyes. “What gave it away, Love?” he asked, amused.

English accents turned her into putty. Especially when combined with a smoldering gaze.

Mistakes had been made.

“I know everyone in this town,” she said. “You stick out like a sore thumb.”

“Oh? And who might you be?”

“I’m the sheriff,” she warned him.

“And you don’t take kindly to strangers ‘round these parts?” he mocked, adapting a twang.

“We’re fine with strangers - so long as they don’t bring trouble.”

He grinned, flashing sharp teeth. “And I look like trouble?”

Emma arched an eyebrow.

His smile widened. Oh, he knew exactly how he looked.

“Killian Jones,” he said, offering his hand. Emma lifted a brow when, instead of shaking, he brushed his lips across the back of her hand. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

She hmmphed, refusing to be charmed by his old world manners.

Emma’s eyes fell on his left wrist, where a thick leather brace supported a rather alarming looking metal hook. His gaze followed hers. “Forgive the hardware,” he said. “Crude, I know, but it’s far more useful sailing than a more delicate prosthesis or a false hand.” He pulled his arm closer to his chest, not quite hiding it, but at least making it look less threatening.

His name wasn’t the only thing he had in common with their fruit bat.

“Are you a sailor, Mr. Jones?”

“Killian,” he reminded her. “Or Captain Jones, if you prefer to be formal. And I’m actually a pirate.”

Emma scoffed, then realized, “That old-fashioned ship in the marina! It’s yours!”

Killian nodded. “Aye, the Jolly Roger,” he said. That seemed a bit too on point. “I do charter sails for history buffs, as well as doing movie and television appearances. You’d be surprised what people will pay for a two-week Caribbean cruise with a dashing rapscallion like meself.” He grinned, and once again Emma had the unsettling thought that his teeth were very, very sharp.

“And what brings you here, Captain?”

“My ship is in need of repair, so I’m going to winter over in your lovely town,” he said.

“Odd; Granny Lucas didn’t mention taking in any lodgers,” Emma noted.

“I’ve made other arrangements,” Killian shrugged.

Maybe he’d leased a place, then. The cottages were usually only available to lease to summer tourists, but she wouldn’t be surprised if one of the owners made an exception.

“You don’t happen to own a bat, do you?” she asked suddenly.

He blinked rapidly, blindsided.

He had beautiful eyelashes.

“Like…a baseball bat?” he asked slowly.

“Never mind,” Emma muttered. She pulled a couple of crumpled bills out of her pocket and set them on the bar. She stood up. “Nice to meet you Mr. - Captain Jones. I’m sure I’ll see you around.”

“I didn’t get your name,” he said. It wasn’t a demand; rather, a polite inquiry. He was allowing her to be mysterious if she chose. Not that it would be hard to find out her name, since she was the sheriff. Still, she appreciated it.

“Emma Swan,” she said.

“See you around, Swan,” he said, low and throaty, and she totally did not shiver.

She left before she could embarrass herself.

~oOo~

Emma’s third date with Walsh led to a fourth.

After each date, Killian-the-bat would give her that angry hiss, and Emma wondered if he were somehow jealous that someone else was taking her time.

But he’d eventually get over it.

Which was probably a good thing, because they had their first school visit of the semester, and if he’d been cranky, he’d have missed out on having dozens of adoring children who cooed at him and gave him all the fruit he could ever want.

Though he wasn’t too crazy about being touched by their sticky fingers. But he allowed it, showing more patience than Emma had ever had.

She saw Killian-the-human several times over the next week; usually at the bar, once, coming out of the hardware store with items she assumed were for ship repair. Each time, he gave her a significant Look that she couldn’t read.

And then it happened, on a night when Emma was walking out of Granny’s diner with a bag full of carryout containers and a couple of donuts in preparation for an overnight shift at The Belfry.

After three weeks of casual conversation, Killian asked her out for a drink.

And Emma…she wanted to go.

Even though she barely knew him, she felt a spark with him, something that was more than just the thrill of his smoldering gaze.

“I’m actually seeing someone,” she said.

She hadn’t meant to sound regretful. She shouldn’t feel bad about dating Walsh, right?

“You don’t sound so certain,” Killian observed.

Dammit. “No, I am,” she said firmly. “He’s…nice.”

“All right,” Killian said. “I’ll see you around then, Swan.”

Emma released a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. That had been harder than she’d expected. And a little part of her had feared he wouldn’t respond well to being ‘friendzoned.’

She watched him walk away, swaggering, then turned and stepped forward - into something very solid.

Walsh.

A deep frown was etched into his features. Emma wondered how long he’d been standing there in the dark, and if he’d heard everything.

“Who was that?” he asked.

Emma didn’t like his tone. Clearly, he had been eavesdropping.

“Just someone wintering over,” Emma said. “We talk occasionally.”

“He seemed to want to do more than talk,” Walsh said. His jaw was clenched, and Emma frowned. Oh, no. They were not going to do this.

“It doesn’t matter what he wanted,” Emma said coolly.

“Come to dinner with me,” Walsh said. It wasn’t a question.

Oh, hell no. She was not going to put up with this possessive bullshit.

“I have other plans,” she said.

“Like what?” he demanded.

“That’s none of your business,” she snapped.

Something flickered across Walsh’s face, then he abruptly deflated. “Sorry,” he said. “I know I have nothing to worry about. I just don’t want to lose you, Emma.”

Emma studied him, all senses on alert. But he seemed sincere enough. Still… “We’ll discuss this tomorrow,” she told him wearily. “Right now, I have to get going.”

She made it to The Belfry just as Ruby was leaving for the day. “I left some bags of popcorn for you for later,” she told Emma as she pulled on her coat. “There’s some Milk Duds, too.”

Emma grinned. “You’re the best, Ruby.”

“I know,” the other woman grinned toothily.

Nights at The Belfry tended to be long. Emma only over-nighted once a week, and she used the time to binge watch shows. The last time she’d done it, Killian-the-bat had sat on her shoulder and squeaked at the screen.

She’d just checked the bats and was about to put a bag of popcorn in the microwave when she heard the front door open.

Emma froze. She could have sworn she locked it.

And then a familiar voice called, “Emma?” and she relaxed. Marginally. Why was Walsh here?

“Walsh, hey,” Emma said cautiously. “We don’t really allow guests this late at night.”

“I’m not a guest, I’m your boyfriend,” he reminded her.

Emma went over to the front desk, sitting on the edge. Her hand crept over to the lamp on the corner.

“That doesn’t matter. You shouldn’t be here.”

“Why not? Is he here?”

Nope. Not doing this.

“Walsh… If you’re going to do this, then I don’t think we should see each other anymore. I’m not going to put up with someone who doesn’t trust me and stalks me at work.”

Walsh leaned back, staring down at her. But he made no move to leave. Emma braced herself for the inevitable meltdown.

Instead, he threw back his head and laughed.

At her shocked look, he said, “Did you think that would hurt me? It’s a relief, actually,” Walsh said. “Having to pretend to be interested in you is draining. You’re too abrasive, and you don’t trust anyone. Which, admittedly, was the right choice here. But it’s over now, and my master will reward me well.”

His eyes were red. Not bloodshot, but glowing a baleful crimson. “What the fu-”

Then their eyes locked, and Emma felt…something. It writhed around in her mind, clawing into her, leaving her feeling dirty. He was inside her head somehow, and she wanted him out, out, OUT!

Emma jerked her gaze away, and Walsh snarled.

“Why isn’t this working?” Walsh fumed. “You should be mine!” Then he smirked, showing off far too sharp teeth. “Guess we’ll have to do this the fun way, then.”

Emma reacted. Her hand flew to the heavy lamp on the desk corner, and she flung it at Walsh’s head. He didn’t react in time, and it hit him squarely in the forehead.

He didn’t even flinch.

It should have taken him down, or at least disoriented him long enough to continue attacking or escape. No man should have taken a direct hit to the head and just shaken it off.

He wasn’t normal.

He wasn’t human.

So Emma ran.

Her lunge to the side caught Walsh by surprise, and he didn’t immediately react. It bought her a few precious seconds to dart through the door leading towards the cage room.

There was an emergency exit in the back of the sanctuary. Emma sprinted towards it.

Walsh stepped out of the shadows, blocking her path.

How?! How had he gotten in front of her? It wasn’t possible!

“I’m not here to kill you, Emma,” Walsh said in exasperation. “I’m just going to take you to my master.”

Killian shrieked, beating his wings against the bars of his cage. Walsh ignored him.

“But…nobody said I couldn’t rough you up a bit.” His hands extended towards her, tipped in razor sharp claws.

Killian fell silent.

Emma dropped to the floor and kicked her leg out, hitting Walsh in the knee with bone-breaking force. It didn’t do more than stagger him, however, and he quickly recovered. Emma rolled away, but misjudged her direction and slammed into one of the cages. The bats inside fluttered their wings in agitation.

Walsh lunged towards her.

And then Walsh crashed to the floor. Something bumped and rolled across the floor, coming to a stop before Emma. Walsh’s head, the red fading from his eyes as they slowly dimmed.

Standing over the body was Killian, the human Killian, dressed in black leather and wielding what looked like a pirate’s cutlass. “Are you all right, Love?” he asked.

His eyes had the same red glow as Walsh’s.

“What the fuck?” Emma shrieked.

Killian gave her a crooked smile.

A fang poked out from behind his lips.

“Apologies, Love,” Killian Jones said. The red was fading from his eyes, though the sharp fangs remained. “I’ll clean up the mess.”

Emma just stared at his teeth.

One of them was chipped. Just like Killian-the-bat’s.

“You’re…you’re…”

“A vampire, yes,” Killian said. As if it were the most normal thing in the world. But Emma supposed that made more sense than what she’d been about to say: You’re my bat! “As was your…boyfriend.”

“He wasn’t my boyfriend,” Emma muttered. “It was just a couple of dates.”

“Mmph.” He crouched down, examining Walsh’s body. Then, to her horror, he dragged his finger through the small pool of blood and put it in his mouth.

“He’s a neophyte; probably not more than a year since he was changed. Which means his master has to be close by, because a vampire this young seldom strays far from his master.” Killian studied her closely. “Which means he was specifically sent to seduce you. I wonder why?”

Emma didn’t want to think about that. She didn’t know, she wasn’t special.

“You somehow resisted his attempt to control you,” Killian continued. “That’s a rare gift.”

”You should be mine,” Walsh had said.

“How can you be a vampire?” There was a shrill edge of panic to her voice. This was too much, far too much.

“It’s a long story,” he said. “I won’t get into that tonight. All you need to know is that I hunt vampires like him, those who break our laws and hunt humans.”

“But… I’ve seen you during the day.” Walsh, on the other hand, she’d never before sunset. She’d just assumed he was a night owl, not a freaking vampire

“I’m over 300 years old. I’ve developed an immunity to sunlight. I don’t like it, but I can go out in it.”

“Three hun-” Her brain stuttered to a halt. “Are you actually a pirate?”

Killian chuckled. “I have been called such, yes. I prefer ‘dashing rapscallion.’”

“You would,” she scoffed.

“There’s that spirit,” he said approvingly. “It’s a lot to take in, I know.”

She tried to back away, forgetting in her panic that the cage was behind her.

“I’ve been here over a month, and you haven’t had any mysterious deaths or illnesses related to blood loss, aye?”

There hadn’t been, actually. The town had been as calm as it always was after the tourist season ended. That didn’t mean Killian didn’t do his hunting elsewhere, but she hadn’t heard anything from the nearest towns, either.

“So…you’ve been living in town as a bat and a human for a month, and no one even noticed?”

“The werewolf knows, but she and I reached an understanding.”

“The…the werewolf…” Emma repeated faintly.

“The lovely Miss Lucas,” Killian said. “She figured out what I was fairly quickly, but we came to an agreement.”

“Ruby…is a werewolf…”

“Aye. She’ll probably be furious that I told you, but she will vouch for me. She knows our laws, and how strictly we enforce them.”

This was all too much. Emma had snapped. She blurted out the next thing that came to mind. “Shouldn’t you be a vampire bat?”

Killian looked pained. “I don’t have the most fearsome bat form, I admit.” And then his expression became lascivious. “But I’m certainly one of the biggest.”

Of course you are, Emma thought.

Emma’s hands were still shaking. She clenched her fists, hoping to hide the trembling.

He noticed, however, and his face softened.

“I mean you no harm, Swan,” Killian said softly. “I rarely need to partake in human blood, and then only with willing donors. This town is safe from me.” His gaze went to Walsh’s corpse. “His master, however, seems to have no such qualms. It appears we were right about his intentions.”

“Is…is that why you’re here?” Emma asked.

“To find his master, yes,” Killian said. “We suspected that a powerful old vampire was no longer keeping to our laws, and I was dispatched to track them. So I’m afraid you’re stuck with me for some time. Though I suppose you’ll want me to find other accommodations,” he added regretfully. “Pity; you have some lovely fruit.”

Emma assumed that was supposed to be an entendre, but when she looked at his expression, she realized that, no, he actually meant fruit. What kind of vampire fed on fruit? “You can stay for now, until you find something better,” Emma offered. “Although, you will have to put up with the Bat Education Program,” she finished apologetically. “Mary Margaret wants to make you the star. But somehow, I don’t think you mind being the center of attention.”

Killian grimaced. “I’ll tolerate it. But only if the children wash their hands,” he growled

“She’s calling you the ‘am-bat-sador,’” Emma warned.

”Bloody hell,” Killian groaned. “But it will help me guard the children. They’re preferred victims of rogue vampires,” he concluded grimly.

A shiver went down her spine, and this time it wasn’t because of his accent.

Something evil was coming to Storybrooke.

~fin~

#author: wyntereyez #fandom: once upon a time #captain swan #emma swan #killian jones #vampires #cssns #cssns23

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eastwesthomeisbest · 1 year ago

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Fairy Dance

(Don't you know Emma?! It's you)

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This one was inspired by "Deluge" - an amazing story written by @snowbellewells . I've already said it, but I'll say it again, this plot could make a great fantasy novel. I really liked the idea of fairies with glowing marks on their skin.

For @cssns event

@kmomof4 @snowbellewells @lifeinahole27 @cocohook38 @ilovemesomekillianjones @teamhook @resident-of-storybrooke

#cssns23 #cssns #captain swan #cs supernatural summer #emma x killian #killian x emma #cs fairies AU #fairy! Емма #fay!Killian

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snowbellewells · 8 months ago

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CSSNS23 Fic Update: "Carolina Moon" Chapter Five

Sheesh, so much for getting back to weekly updates! I don't know what else to do but apologize folks, and to say thank you for hanging in there with me if you're still patiently reading this story despite my lack of speed. Please enjoy the newest chapter - the threat is ramping up, but so is Killian's determination to help keep Emma safe!

Thank you so, so, SO much for @xarandomdreamx and her wonderful beta skills - she had a job fixing all the times I switched tenses this go 'round!

And continued thanks to @eastwesthomeisbest for this cover art that I'm thrilled by all over again each time I post a new chapter!!

Read from the beginning HERE on Tumblr or HERE on AO3

Summary: Emma Swan has returned to the town she grew up in, and the past that has haunted her no matter where she has run. She seeks answers and peace at last. Despite the years that have passed, some things haven't changed very much in Storybrooke, South Carolina, and one of those things is Killian Jones. He never forgot the gangly girl with the world on her shoulders and pain in her eyes, but will he finally be able to slip past her defenses and help her find the answers she seeks?

Chapter Five: Unwanted Reunion and New Resolve

Killian Jones’ mind was everywhere but on the shipping manifests and cost reports he was attempting to look over in his small office down at the docks. Paperwork of that nature was his least favorite part of being the boss, and a tedious chore at the best of times, but with all he had witnessed the night before - Emma trembling in his arms, shaking from the sapping strength of her visions - he could find little space in his brain for inventory and figures. The sunlight glinting off the water out the window to his left and the gentle sound of the waves striking the moorings of the pier always tried to entice him from his desk on mornings he had to take alone to put the business in order, but with his concentration already severely fractured, he was making little to no headway. He’d dropped Emma off by her car at the gallery that morning, reluctantly aware that he had to give her a bit of space, and figuring that in the middle of town in broad daylight was the best time to do so and still retain his own peace of mind. He’d spent the night on her couch - against her protests that she sleep there instead - but all had been quiet, no signs of trouble. She’d planned to go to the diner to grab breakfast, then work for a few hours, and he’d pick her up that evening when they’d both finished for the day.

With a growl of frustration, Killian pushed his chair back and reclined in it, raking a hand through his dark hair, surely making it stand on end, and squeezing his eyes closed to block all the images rushing through, images that were already inside his head. He wanted to yell, to hit something - mostly his own younger self. How had they all been so blind and callous? Was this what Emma had always been dealing with? Even as a child? Rose would have known, would have been a support, a respite for Emma in the storm the rest of her life must have been. His baby sister, whom he’d doted on, but clearly not paid careful enough attention to, would have done nothing less. But when she was snatched away, and Emma blamed for the loss, despite what she had risked in order to help, it was just too late, the storm had surged back to surround her, raging and buffeting her more cruelly than ever. Though he had wondered briefly about the marks he could see that morning, and what had kept Emma from meeting Rose the night before, he had been too young and blind, too lost in his own grief and family concerns to reach out to her as he saw now he should have done. She had lost the only anchor in the maelstrom she had ever possessed, and he hadn’t bothered to toss her a lifeline. Leaning forward again, elbows planted on his cluttered desk, Killian rubbed his stubbled chin thoughtfully for a moment, trying to refocus on what he could do now to help her and show he wanted to ease her burden - would always, always, be at her side from now on, if she would allow it. Emma had said, when her defenses were still down and he had held her close, trying to imbue any bit of strength he could, that Rose wasn’t the only one - that there had been other victims.

Galvanized with sudden inspiration, he pushed his bookkeeping aside in a messy heap to one corner of his desk and quickly opened a new window on his laptop. If he wasn’t going to be able to focus on his own work, he might as well accomplish something worthwhile, something he could take to Emma as proof of how fully he took her at her word - a starting point for their inquiry. His eyes began to scan lines of text in rapid fascination - both amazed and appalled at the sheer amount of information at one’s fingertips once he chose to look, and at the horrifying reality of there being so much to be found.

He was soon fully engaged in the task, his other concerns slipping away with the minutes that ticked by until he could call it a day, and it suddenly felt as if he had managed some worthwhile work after all. Perhaps not for Jones Shipping Ltd., but important all the same. He tried not to picture the scoff and disappointed shake of the head his father would have given at that; Brennan Jones did nothing if not for the furtherance of their name and holdings, and his imagination’s echoes of the sharp retort that would be on his mother’s lips did no good either.

All the same, he was anxious to show Emma what he had turned up, and in only a couple hours’ searching. It wouldn’t be what one might call pleasant dinner conversation - certainly not what he’d usually entertain as fit for a second date - was he crazy to consider it as such? He felt Emma would want to know all the same. It was proof that what she had seen the night before, horrifying as it must have been, was hardly mistaken or imagined. And it was a first stop toward finally uncovering the truth after all this time. Emma deserved to be set free at long last - they all did.

When it finally neared five o’clock, Killian had never locked up his office and left work so quickly. He headed straight for the town square and those mesmerizing green eyes he was eager to feel upon him again. He had been missing them for longer than he’d ever fully realized.

*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*

The morning after intense visions Emma always felt a bit hazy, slightly dazed and headache-y, almost as though suffering from a mental hangover of sorts, from exerting such focus and emotion. That morning was no different, but she shuffled gingerly through her usual routine as always, wincing but not about to waste time recouping her strength if she still hoped to open for business as planned.

By the time she had returned to the gallery, a shocking amount of coffee in her system and a satisfyingly crisp and greasy bacon sandwich from the local diner in her stomach, she already felt more herself. She had called the young lady, Violet Clemens back and hired her after all. She was going to need help, and the sale she had already made - to Ruby Jones, of all people! - had boosted her confidence. She might as well sink everything into this; if she went down, she would go down swinging with all she had.

Violet had joined her in the shop just after 12:30, and they had spent a cheerful couple of hours putting the last items and displays in place. The other woman had proven a real asset already: agreeable, quick, and a good eye to boot. She was pleasant company and a worthy distraction. Emma was already exceedingly glad of her presence.

It was just half past three when Emma paused to stretch, catch her breath, and survey their progress with a proud smile. There really wasn’t too much left after Killian’s help the previous day, and all that she and her new employee had just accomplished. Smiling broadly, she thanked Violet once more, and got them both a cold water bottle from the small fridge she’d had Killian’s help in nestling on the shelf under the counter. They were due a cool drink and a moment’s sit down, she felt sure.

While they were still sipping their drinks perched on the tall stools she’d placed behind the counter, the bell above the shop door jangled merrily to announce the arrival of Mayor Walsh Ozman with his wide, charming-the-public smile. Emma stood and moved forward to greet her old acquaintance, asking what they could do for him, even though she was privately amused at how well the public servant schtick seemed to suit him. She would have never imagined that the unhappy, mean-spirited boy of their youth would be wearing that wide smile and winning local elections when they all grew up. Then again, she couldn’t have pictured much for her future either, not back then. Still, she mused curiously before returning her attention to Walsh’s reply, she would have to ask Killian if it was an election year and if Mayor Ozman was trying to win over these two newcomers to his town by turning on the charm.

As it turned out, the mayor was also hoping to make an early purchase - it seemed that he and his wife were quite close to their 15th anniversary, and having lived in Storybrooke all that time, he was anxious to shop for a gift somewhere completely unknown to her. He genuinely did want to offer any help he could as a town representative, but if he could find the right anniversary present at the same time, he would be incredibly grateful.

Violet happily began to show him around the shop, directing his attention to various framed photographs which might work especially well as romantic gifts - the close-up bud of a red rose, two swallows entwined in flight, a couple’s joined hands in silhouette against a sunset’s orange and gold. Not only that, but she kept up a lively patter of information that proved just what a sponge she had been for all of the information Emma had told her so far about her process, materials, and subject matter. Violet answered the mayor’s questions nearly as well as Emma herself could have done, and it pleased Emma more than she could say, thinking that not only had she helped someone in need of a job, but that she had managed to find someone with the pep and sweetness they needed out front, all the engaging personality she herself often fought to project, as well as a genuine interest in the art itself.

By the time Violet had shown Walsh all the way around the store cheerily, the mayor had a selected photo in hand once they returned to the counter and Emma was marvelling at how lucky she had been to find such a natural saleswoman along with all of Violet’s other positive traits. The red rose picture Walsh had selected seemed a touch obvious, but then, who was she to judge? She had chosen it to crop and display as she had because its blatant appeal almost guaranteed it would sell. They weren’t even officially open yet, and this was her second painting sold. If this could keep up, she might not have as hard a road making her gallery succeed as she had anticipated.

As she rang up the purchase and ran the mayor’s card, Violet carefully and efficiently wrapped the frame as she had been shown. Walsh grinned broadly the whole time as her new assistant prattled on. “You’ve really saved me a long, drawn out search with this, ladies. And Marjorie will love it too. Plus, it was a chance to keep business local. Your gallery is going to be a great addition for Storybrooke, just wait and see.”

“I certainly hope so,” Emma replied, a pleasantly warm glow of pride in her chest as she did so.

“You just give me a call if there’s anything I can do to help out,” he reminded again as he headed out the door with a wave. “It is part of my job, after all.”

When he was gone, Emma found that they really had accomplished nearly all that she had planned for the day. With heartfelt gratitude, she sent Violet off a bit early, promising that she was just going to lock up and make an early night of it herself as well. No need to tell the younger woman that she was going to be picked up at five like a kid after daycare for her own safety.

Violet hadn’t been gone but a few minutes before Emma had all in order and was gathering her things to leave, true to her word. She made sure the lights were out in the back office, that all was in its proper place, and was just bending to gather her things from under the counter, when she heard the door open once more, its bell chiming in announcement. Standing straight again, she had begun to speak before even seeing the person who had entered. “I’m sorry, but we’re not open for business yet. I was just leaving for the day, and - “ but the rest of her polite dismissal died on her tongue when she recognized the person who had arrived - a face she had hoped never to see again.

“Well, seeing as I’m already here, you’ll just have to make an exception, won’t you?” The question was taut and dangerous, hardly a question at all, though phrased as such. Every nerve in Emma’s body stood on end in response. Her limbs took on the same sort of wary motionlessness they had years ago, like a rabbit going statue-still in hopes of evading a predator’s notice, yet ready to dart away the moment an opening appeared.

Vic Franken hadn’t darkened her path again after she’d paid him off for her safety and peace of mind once he found her in Boston. Emma had hoped that fragile truce and space would hold, despite his breach of parole, but her former “guardian” never had been particularly wise, and he was eerily apt to return to what he knew, what was easiest, particularly when he was desperate. Emma wet her lips nervously and attempted to keep breathing calmly, steadily, focused on taking in any weakness she might be able to use to her own benefit. The past six or seven years had not been kind to him by the looks of it. Always tall and wiry, Franken appeared almost unhealthily gaunt, with dark shadows under eyes that were still as sharp and wild, darting quickly about the gallery space, to her, and back again. His clothes were worn and wrinkled, his hair stood on end in places, and he was moving closer, coming to stand just on the other side of the counter - much nearer than Emma could handle without her knees going a bit watery in spite of the fact that she wasn’t 13 anymore and she had every right to order him out of her place of business, whether he thought so or not.

“You s-shouldn’t be here,” she managed to say coolly, her voice only quavering slightly, for which she was grateful. She crossed her arms tightly over her chest, intending to look serious, but also hoping to hold herself together as best she could.

“Damn it!” he howled, the loud exclamation ringing in the air between them as his large hand slammed down on the counter, rattling the surface with a bang, and causing Emma to shrink backward against her best effort to hold her ground. “You aren’t so high and mighty that you can just shove me out! I put a roof over you head, and you owe me for it! I’m not leaving ‘til I’m good an’ ready!”

At that, Emma regained herself through sheer outrage alone. This monster had made her childhood miserable, and she wasn’t about to have him barge in and take anything else from her. Standing taller and tipping her chin up to face him squarely, Emma’s spine returned to her after the shock of his appearance, while her hand scrambled carefully through her things beneath the countertop. She hoped Franken wouldn’t notice what she was doing before she could lay hands on the pocketknife she knew was somewhere in her purse. Granted, that wasn’t much of a weapon, but she wasn’t going to face him without any sort of defense - not ever again.

An eerie sort of calm washed over the man for a moment then, as if he and Emma were locked in a stalemate and her facing him steadily had given him pause. His exacting gaze continued to take in the large main room of her shop, and Emma held her breath, finally feeling her fingertips graze the handle she was searching for at the bottom of her purse. She knew better than to drop her guard; his quiet hesitation was like a hurricane’s eye, the calm before the gale began to batter and howl once more. Grasping her prize, Emma pulled it free and flicked it open, not wanting to show her hand too soon and yield the element of surprise if she had to wield it.

As Franken returned his focus to her, an unnatural almost proud look crossed his features, as out of place as it was, particularly when an attempt at some sort of paternal smile twisted his visage. “Seems like you’ve done alright for yourself since I saw you last, Emma,” he finally murmured in a cajoling tone.

She snorted; regardless of how dangerous it might be to antagonize him, she couldn’t even pretend they were on terms to make friendly small talk. “If I am doing well, it’s no thanks to you,” she retorted bitterly.

Franken’s nostrils flared as he reeled back to his full height, the calm attempt at appealing to her good side shattered in an instant. “Ungrateful wench!” he hollered, eyes bulging wide as he swung a hand wildly, catching the edge of a large, framed portrait on the wall behind him and knocking it to the floor, where it crashed on its face and sent glass shattering outward in a wide spray. “After I took you in, fed you, clothed you, saw that you had a roof over your head? Now you’re too good to return the favor?”

Emma gasped in dismay at the largest piece in her gallery’s fall and destruction, but was quick enough to dodge his flailing hand when Franken reached out in an attempt to grab her shoulder and haul her close. She was just fast enough to evade him, thankfully. She might be fully grown now instead of a scrawny, underfed kid, but she still didn’t need to find out what he would do if he got a good hold on her.

“Took me in?” she spat back, practically seething in anger that he would dare pretend he had actually provided any sort of genuine care. “Is that what you did?” Shaking her head in disbelief, Emma finally raised the small blade before her, as if warning him to keep his distance, even if there wasn’t much more space behind the counter for her to put between them. “Which part am I supposed to be grateful for, hmm?” she barrelled on, now that the gates were open, her words kept spilling out. “The beatings that left me so sore I could barely sit or walk for days afterward? The hours I spent locked in the pitch dark cellar as punishment for my demons? The shame and fear you made sure I never forgot from the moment I crossed the threshold of your house until the day I got away from it?” The small pocket knife wavered along with her hand, and her vision blurred with hot tears of frustration, but Emma didn’t falter. “Tell me what exactly I should be thanking you for?”

With a wild growl, he whirled away from her, grabbing frames from their hooks and hurling them against the walls or to the floor, knocking a large easel to the ground and smashing his foot through the canvas print it had held. He was on as much a tear as a toddler having a fit, but imminently more dangerous. Rounding on her again, his eyes were wild, and if possible, Emma would have sworn he was foaming at the mouth.

It was then, in desperation to save the work he hadn’t already destroyed, that she acted without thinking clearly and charged out from behind the counter she had carefully kept between them - so focused on making him leave that she left herself vulnerable by coming too close. “Get out!” Emma cried, mindless of his larger build and out of control demeanor; the threat he posed flying from her head as her work - the pictures she’d poured her heart and soul into, and the inventory she needed to keep her business afloat - clattered to the ground, breaking and being trashed before her eyes. She might still have the small blade gripped in her sweaty fingers, but she wasn’t thinking about defense as much as ridding herself of his presence before he destroyed her means of livelihood. “You have no right to anything from me! You need to get out of here before I call the police and tell them you’re in town!”

Franken whirled from the far wall where he’d been wreaking havoc and instead turned towards her seething with unrestrained rage. There were many times in her years growing up when Emma had feared that this man was unstable; dangerously obsessed with her “unholy” visions and driving them from her by any means necessary, and that his volatile fanaticism would injure her beyond what she could heal from or survive. Emma had spent far longer than was fair, wasted too much of her life, waiting to be out from under his thumb, no longer catching her breath and ducking a fist sure to fly or a bruising belt buckle if she said too much or let the wrong words slip. It had been long enough now though that she wasn’t guarding every thought and impulse, and she didn’t stop to second guess or recognize the danger as she took her stand. Willing to defend this little space she’d made for herself, even if it meant facing the monster from her past head-on and all alone.

The violence that twinkled maliciously in Franken’s deep, dark gaze should have been a warning, but Emma was too riled up and determined that this time she wasn’t backing down, wasn’t letting this pathetic excuse for a man take anything more from her. Where a younger, more wary version of herself would have shrunk back and put space between them, Emma instead pressed forward capitalizing on the man’s momentary shock. She wasn’t sure what she intended to try next if he didn’t move, but her body seemed determined to herd him out the door, with or without the full thought and cooperation of her racing brain.

Barely a moment’s warning, where a low, evil chuckle rumbled from his throat, evidencing anything but humor, was the only signal Emma got, and the next thing she knew, Franken had struck so fast she didn’t even see the movement - like a copperhead concealed in dank marsh water, having already bitten a person before one even knew it was there. Her head whipped to the side with the impact of his fist shooting out and making contact, leaving her ears ringing and her lungs gasping for air.

Emma struggled to keep her feet beneath her, even as the world around her tilted sideways. A wailing inside her head like sirens brought back all the times she had fallen before this monster as a child, curled tightly in a ball to protect herself from the blows he’d rained down on her for the smallest imagined infractions or the involuntary glimpses of prescient knowledge she couldn’t help possessing - they’d been part of who she was even then, as much a her hair or eye color, and they refused to stay hidden. Emma had attempted to - for all she was worth - having immediately learned speaking of what she saw, no matter how important it might seem, only earned her more suffering and degradation.

Flailing her arms, she managed to catch the side of the counter and steady herself before she went tumbling to the floor. Franken was right there, coming for her again with his arm raised, no doubt reveling in the same sort of drunken power he had missed while the inexorable familiarity of the old, horrible pattern clutched Emma by the throat with fear.

This time she wasn’t having it. She’d fight him even if it broke every bone in her body. With a cry of pain soaked in years of suffering unheard, Emma pushed off the counter, leading with the sharp pocket knife and sheer desperation, she meant to make her own mark this time. “Leave me alone!” she bellowed, as she took her first step to meet him.

But, despite his own seeming haze of madness and unsteady mind, Vic Franken was still quick and powerful as a gator and just as mean. Much like he’d always been, he was too large a foe for her to fell unprepared and without proper defenses. His meaty paw caught her wrist with crushing strength, until her fingers were forced to release her blade and it clattered to the floor and skittered away uselessly as she felt her tendons and bones ground painfully beneath his grip.

He pulled her close to his face until their noses nearly touched, as if trying to understand why he couldn’t make her cower the way he once had. Emma could just begin to hear the blessed sound of sirens in the distance that she prayed were coming their way. Thank goodness she had shouldered the extra cost of hidden cameras and a security company who monitored their feed continuously. When he’d begun to tear her gallery apart it would have been obvious help was needed though she’d had no time to call for it.

“You think this is over?” he hissed angrily. “I’m not finished with you…far from it. You won’t be rid of me until I say so. Don’t you forget it.”

Flinging Emma away like a discarded ragdoll, she stumbled with the force of it, tripping on the debris that littered the floor and slamming back into the counter that had saved her minutes before. Franken fled out the door and was gone, and she slumped to the floor - for the moment too dizzy and aching to get up again. Trying to catch her breath and make her surroundings stop whirling around her, Emma breathed slowly, closing her eyes and allowing her head to lean groggily against the smooth, cool surface until she could gather her bearings.

The siren sounds drew nearer still, for which she was so thankful she could cry, but then she heard the door swing open once more, and she lurched frantically to attention, struggling to get her feet under her for fear that he had come back to finish her off. What she saw instead almost started her laughing hysterically, having never imagined this particular visitor’s appearance would send relief washing over her.

“Emma?” Ruby Jones’ voice was shocked and disbelieving, even concerned, all rolled into one as her heels click-clacked right across all the broken glass towards her before she crouched at her side, fingers already gingerly dabbing at the trickle of blood from the broken skin at her temple and then holding an honest-to-goodness monogrammed handkerchief to the spot. “What happened here?”

Emma reached out to still Ruby’s hand, shaking her head with as little force as possible and still wincing, “More who than what…” she managed, still trying to fully gather her wits and fighting for her speech not to sound slurred. She swallowed, wetting her lips and pressing on. “It was Franken….my old foster father…remember?” Ruby nodded, mouth and eyes both gaping wide at her. Emma sighed, “Thank - thank goodness it sounds like those sirens are close… don’t wanna tell this all more than once.”

“Vic Franken?” Ruby growled, her wide eyes narrowing. She looked for a second as if she might have clawed the man’s eyes out herself if she had been here just a little sooner. Emma again had to choke back out of place hilarity at the other woman’s defense of her. Rose would have loved it; she was just trying not to get whiplash. “What did that bastard think he was doing coming here?” Ruby snapped out.

Emma chuckled lightly, squinting against the way even that made her head hurt. Somehow Ruby’s fiery temper made her heart feel a little lighter. This nightmare was still dogging her, but the sheer absurdity of someone she’d have sworn even two days ago couldn’t stand her being ready to fight for her, lightened the dark cloud that had settled over her. Giving the former debutante a mischievous, if weary, side eye, she teased. “Whoo, Miss Ruby! That’s quite a mouth you’ve got there for a nice Southern belle! What would your Mama say?!”

Ruby rolled her eyes at the teasing with a dismissive snort, even as she let Emma grip her forearms and help her to stand again, holding on until sure she was steady. “Well, first she would have told me to walk on by and leave you where you fell, so clearly I don’t much care what she has to say.”

Emma began to nod her acknowledgement that what Ruby said was true, then quickly thought better of it at the shot of pain that lanced through her.

Ruby shrugged, offering a crooked smile. “Besides,” she added ruefully, “Mama despaired of me a long time ago.”

Emma drew in a sharp breath, a few sadly clarifying things about Killian and Rose’s sister instantly becoming clear.

“Now,” Ruby continued, red fingernail raised to point at Emma authoritatively, “you are gonna report this sorry excuse of a man so they can nail him to the wall, and then we’re gonna get you patched up, okay?”

Emma didn’t get to respond further as they were interrupted by what seemed to be the entire Storybrooke police force’s arrival just then, with a worried David Nolan leading the charge. She’d give her former defender credit. Though he looked half beside himself when he first burst through the door, his deputies flanking him, David quickly saw that the perpetrator was gone and, while she was injured and shaken, Emma was no longer in immediate danger and had someone at her side. With an almost visible effort, he reigned in his protectiveness and brought his anxiety back under stern professional control.

Turning, he began capably barking out orders to his fellow officers - not unkindly, but feeling the urgency and not at all wanting to allow Franken to escape and cause this sort of damage again. Through the buzzing that seemed to have taken up residence in her brain, Emma heard David directing a perimeter to be set up to keep Franken from getting out of town, with an APB being put out with Franken’s name and description to all possible news outlets. He also organized the coordination of his people coming in to gather evidence and block off the space outside on the walk so gawkers couldn’t make their way in and disturb anything that could aid in their search.

Though there were an overwhelming number of people swarming all about inside the shop, Emma was grateful that only David himself came over to ask a few questions of her. Ruby had led her, wordless as she had ever seen the youngest Jones sibling, over to one of the tall stools at the counter, coaxing her into gingerly sitting down, being kind enough even to avert her gaze and hold back her own questions when Emma leaned slightly over, her still-spinning head against Ruby’s side as she attempted to swallow her nausea back down her throat. Ruby just rubbed a hand across Emma’s shoulder blades gently and stood there as steady and calm as a pillar of marble.

David stooped to look into Emma’s eyes with his own careful concern as he reached them. “Do you feel dizzy? Nauseous?” he asked promptly, his words clipped and tight, making the strain he was still under to remain calm and professional all too clear. Emma was fairly certain he already knew the answer anyway. If she tried to shake her head and deny his suspicions, her world would only keep spinning more frantically.

Just barely meeting his anxious stare with her eyes slitted narrowly open, she managed a half-convincing, “Calm down, Nolan. We all know I’ve had worse.”

The sheriff’s lips pressed together into a thin line, his whole expression pulled taut enough that Emma couldn’t even gauge whether anger, guilt, or fear was playing the largest role. His arms crossed firmly over his broad chest as he stood back to his full height, sensing that hovering would not make her any more agreeable, but he didn’t cease watching her, not allowing her to shut him out. “That isn’t funny,” he ground out, low enough that in the bustle around the shop only she, Ruby, and himself heard the admonishment, yet she felt chastened all the same. “You are clearly not safe, even out in the open, in broad daylight, and what if the security company hadn’t called us soon enough, if Ruby hadn’t walked in when she did? Emma, you could have been - “

Her eyes shot up to meet his savagely, knowing the rest of his sentence and not wanting it spoken aloud. Despite the ringing in her ears and rolling of her stomach, her fierce look froze the words on David’s tongue. She’d traveled so far, worked so hard to be more than the helpless, pitied victim of that man’s abuse - and she wasn’t letting him make her one again.

Before any of them could speak further, or the tension between them could fully dissipate, the door flung back on its hinges wildly as someone else rushed into her gallery. “Emma!” Killian’s unmistakable voice called out, cracking with worry on the second syllable, even as David moved aside slightly so his friend could see her for himself.

A strangled sound escaped his throat, and in moments Jones was across the room and on his knees before her, reaching out as if to pull her close, then jolting back as he took in the trickle of blood and the bruising that had already begun to color the side of her face. Looking wracked with indecision, he simply held his place before her, as near as he dared, and breathed out a choked, “What happened, Swan? Are - are you alright?”

“She will be,” Ruby offered with much needed certainty from beside Emma, laying her hand on her brother’s shoulder, as if to steady him and remind them both that she was there. It was new from her - for both of them - but her typical self assurance was bolstering in the fraught moment and incredibly welcome.

Killian finally released a full breath, his forehead falling to rest upon her knee, and his fingers reflexively clutching her denim-clad leg for a moment as he trembled with relief. After a moment to gather himself, he looked up into Emma’s face from where he crouched before her, eyes swimming with unasked questions and the fear - still all too close to the surface - that he had nearly lost her.

Emma didn’t have the strength to hold back, not in that tremulous moment when she was hurt and wanted to scream at the unfairness of everything falling apart around her. She grasped his t-shirt at the shoulder, comforted by his warm solidity beneath, and ran a hand over his brow, amazed that he was there and was so intensely concerned - and that she allows herself the luxury of that - before trailing her fingers through his unruly dark hair. “It was Franken,” she murmured lowly, just wanting it all out, like poison drawn from a wound. “He was here, mostly after money, I think…” she paused. “But as you can see,” she gestured to her face, “that clearly wasn’t enough to keep him from leaving a souvenir for old times’ sake.”

She could see the angry tic in Killian’s jaw, working to restrain the fury he felt, and though his was quieter, it seemed to run even deeper and even harder to contain than David’s had before it.

At that, David broke into the moment. “Killian, why don’t you take Emma to Storybrooke General to be checked out? I can swing by there later, when all this is under control, if I have any questions that can’t wait until tomorrow.” He waved to the crime scene which her gallery had become as he spoke.

Killian’s “Aye” and terse nod were all that voiced his agreement to the sheriff’s suggestion, but he stood and offered Emma a hand; balance and support to pull herself up if she chose to take it. Ruby squeezed her hand, promising she would check on her later as well.

She wanted to argue, to say the fuss wasn’t necessary, but as she stood and then wavered unsteadily, she knew there was no point. She merely took Killian’s arm and leaned on him wordlessly without a fight. None of the three people surrounding her would let her close call be brushed aside - not this time. For now, she accepted the concern and decided she’d give herself a minute in which she didn’t have to be so strong.

*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*

A few hours later Killian was leading Emma from the waiting room of the small local hospital, walking and as close behind her as humanly possible without getting their feet tangled and making her fall. She wanted to tell him that she’d be fine, to take her back to her car and then go on home, but the determined and independent core she had built up, the one which usually allowed her to offer those placating refrains so easily seemed irretrievably weakened. She couldn’t push him away. Where she would usually deny or ignore whatever had shaken her, Emma couldn’t this time. After all she had accomplished and how far she had traveled, after how long she had denied herself and stayed as far away as she could, it hadn’t been enough - not long enough, not far enough - her past and its monster had still found her and attacked.

So she didn’t want to need Killian Jones’ warm and steady palm at the small of her back, the comforting heat and gentle, guiding pressure easily felt through the thin material of her cotton blouse, but need it she did. “Come Lass, the truck’s over here,” he murmured, soothing and low near her ear, leaning in to speak for her ears alone as he steered her toward the corner of the lot where he had parked.

There really hadn’t been much anyone could do for the busted lip and rapidly blackening eye she was sporting, other than cautioning her to ice it often and to take aspirin as needed for the pain, but they had made sure nothing was broken in her nose, cheekbones, or jaw. She had also been cautioned, since she’d suffered some nausea at first, that if she became dizzy again or threw up, she should return for further examination. She hadn’t presented with a concussion, but one might sometimes show up later, and they wouldn’t want to miss it if so.

The doctor who had looked her over and the nurse were both concerned about sending Emma home alone; they wanted her observed and awakened every couple of hours. At Killian’s assurance that he would stay with her and do just as they suggested, however, they had relented and she had finally been released.

It wasn’t until he was helping her up into the high seat of his truck’s cab and moving to shut the door that she finally forced herself to protest - it was too much, he didn’t need to put himself out.

Killian was having none of it. He wouldn’t even let her finish, interrupting her protests in a heavy handed way she hadn’t yet seen from him. The solemnity of his vow was irrefutable when he swore that “This time, Love, you won’t be alone until that bastard is caught. Not until this is over.” His eyes burned into her like twin blue flames. “You are too precious for me to do otherwise.”

As much as the fervent emotion from him stole her breath, frustration mounted within her right alongside it. She’d spent so much of her early life beholden to one person or another, moved and driven by the whims of Fate or the system. She didn’t want to be a responsibility or a chore to anyone - not even someone honorable, who took his role as seriously as Killian. Especially not to Killian. She shook her head angrily, biting back tears. “This is stupid! I’ll just go…”

Jones didn’t even hesitate. “Then I’m going too… to the end of the Earth, if that’s where you’re headed.”

She was swiping at the errant tears that wouldn’t be held back any longer, wincing when she got too close to the tender area near her eye socket and sniffing back worse sobs as she beseeched him in last resort. “Why? Killian, why would you do that? So you can get yourself killed trying to protect me?!?”

But he merely shook his head, leaning into her space, pressing his forehead to hers and his warm breath caressing her cheek. “I’m not going to let that happen, Swan. We’ve both lost enough. I’m with you now - no matter what - and we’re going to stand and fight.”

Tagging a few who might enjoy: @cssns @kmomof4 @jrob64 @jennjenn615 @searchingwardrobes @whimsicallyenchantedrose @laschatzi @apiratewhopines @xarandomdreamx @anmylica @booksteaandtoomuchtv @spartanguard @therooksshiningknight @tiganasummertree @optomisticgirl @bluewildcatfanatic @xsajx @teamhook @revanmeetra @iamstartraveller776 @gingerchangeling @gingerpolyglot @blackwidownat2814 @blowmiakisscolin @let-it-raines @motherkatereloyshipper @jonesfandomfanatic @elizabeethan @the-darkdragonfly @donteattheappleshook @lfh1226-linda @winterbaby89 @hollyethecurious @darkcolinodonorgasm @resident-of-storybrooke @drowned-dreamer @stahlop @wefoundloveunderthelight @eastwesthomeisbest @sotangledupinit @justanother-unluckysoul @ultraluckycatnd @bdevereaux @caught-in-the-filter @belovedcreation @lenfaz

#cssns23 #cs modern au mc #cs movie au #cssns fic update #carolina moon #chapter five #some violence #some angst #just a fair warning #but also a line I've been dying to have Killian say...

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cssns · 1 year ago

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#cssns23 roundup #cssns23 #roundup #event roundup

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deckerstarblanche · 1 year ago

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Welcome to Chapter 1 of my CSSNS23 entry: “An Offer She Can’t Refuse”!

Huge thanks to @undercaffinatednightmare for the gorgeous art, and to @ultraluckycatnd for being the perfect hand-holding beta ❤️.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48705193/chapters/122860717

An Offer She Can’t Refuse

Chapter One

Emma was standing alone in her dorm’s communal kitchen area when it happened. The first sign of trouble was a prickling feeling from head to toe, causing her whole body to break out in goosebumps.

She was shaking a jumbo box of Milk Duds, impatiently waiting for her popcorn to finish popping so she could combine the two into her favorite salty sweet comfort snack.

The microwave dinged, so she ignored the fine sheen of sweat covering her forehead, calmly pouring the chocolate and caramel drops over the hot popcorn and watching it melt together into gooey goodness.

How is it possible to be both hot and cold at the same time? Emma wondered, willing herself to believe that it could just be a cold — just last month, she had missed out on a spring break trip with her girlfriends because of the flu — so she hurried back to her room, eager to get under the covers and chill out.

That evening, her friend Killian had come over for a long-awaited movie night, which they usually did as a foursome with their respective roommates, Mary Margaret and David. Their friends had been a couple all year, completely smitten since they met on the very first first weekend of the fall semester, and stayed glued at the hip ever since.

Luckily for Emma, they tended to have their sleepovers in David’s room; wherever Killian spent the night, she didn’t really want to know.

That particular evening they’d had to cancel, in order to answer nature’s call: David’s rut arrived three days earlier than expected. The college provided free, on campus Safe Houses for exactly this purpose, but their reservation system was fully booked, leaving them no choice but to pack quickly and speed over to his family’s nearby vacation cabin to ride it out. Emma helped her nervous, excited roommate pack that morning, lending her a large tote bag to fill with all of her most treasured comfort items: a baggy navy hoodie that David presented to her on the first blustery day of fall, a hand-sewn quilt passed down from mother to daughter for five generations, and a small fluffy pillow Emma got her as a birthday present. It was a sunny yellow (Mary Margaret’s favorite color), and had “What’s Up Buttercup?” printed on top.

So four became two, and since Killian won first film pick in a coin toss, that night’s selection was The Godfather.

Her sweaty shakiness had ebbed by the time Emma got back to her dorm room, and she sighed with a deep sense of relief. But when she opened the door to the 12x19 foot space that she and Mary Margaret called home, already dark and movie-ready except for the glow from Killian’s iPhone, she was hit by a wave of scent so intense that it made her feel weak in the knees. It was woodsy, grassy and musky, with a virile boost of testosterone. Despite her crappy mood, it calmed her, sweeping all of her stress away.

Calmed and aroused simultaneously, as it turned out. The air around her felt thick with masculinity, and Emma’s stomach swooped in anticipation.

That wasn’t supposed to happen.

One of Storybrooke College’s biggest selling points was their commitment to making the finest education accessible for Alphas, Betas, and Omegas alike, regardless of designation and gender. Part of that promise involved the school's state-of-the-art filtration system, which neutralized the air in all of the co-ed facilities, including the dorms. The level of scent surrounding Emma shouldn’t have been detectable.

One of the reasons she had chosen this tiny liberal arts college, four hours away from her home in Boston, was so she could focus on her work and finish her undergraduate degree in three years. Emma had big goals: she wanted to become a Social Worker, focusing specifically on advocacy for foster kids who had the chance to avoid growing up like she did. If she intended to stay on track and on-budget (tiny schools weren’t cheap), she needed to keep her head on her work, and away from distractions.

That was why the situation she found herself in that night was so strange; after nearly a year spent living in that dorm, Emma had never picked up such a unique, personal scent other than her own, and damn it was good.

“About time you got back, Swan! I was going to start without— hey, are you alright?” Killian asked, sitting up on her bed as the grin on his face shifted to a concerned look. The deep, raspy timbre of his unused voice caused a shiver to race down Emma’s spine, almost making her drop the bowl. She ground her jaw shut, willing the ventilation system’s scent blockers to kick in.

“Yeah, it’s nothing… Please, just hand me my blanket and pillow backrest thingie, and you try my famous caramel chocolate popcorn,” she muttered, shoving the bowl into his lap in exchange for her stuff. He whined a little at the loss of her comfy bedding, but he knew better than to cross her about it.

Emma did not mess around when it came to pillows and blankets: last September, when the girls on her floor had a “best nest” competition, Emma and Mary Margaret won first place in a fierce competition by completely transforming their room into a scene from 1,001 Arabian Nights. They went all out, decorating the room with gauze-covered hanging lanterns, and nearly covering their floor with colorful lounging pillows and soft cushions. They even served Moroccan Mint tea in glass cups, poured from an authentic-looking tea set Mary Margaret borrowed from the theater department.

Climbing onto Mary Margaret’s bed, Emma cocooned herself in the huge fleece blanket and set her backrest against the wall, sighing peacefully as she sank against the support.

She tried not to notice how the blanket seemed to have absorbed that irresistible, masculine scent into its fibers, surrounding her and overwhelming her senses. But Emma knew she could hold steadfast against the urge to give in to her hormones. Back in high school, she spent too much time kissing frogs: worthless boys who thought dating an Omega meant that she’d be a submissive, sex-crazed robot.

If nothing else, those experiences made Emma Swan an expert at hiding her true feelings and stuffing them deep down inside.

The fact that her entire body was literally and figuratively burning with desire had nothing to do with Killian, who was an Alpha himself. From what she could see in the dark room, he was unaware of her meltdown. She just needed to get through the movie. If she could keep up the charade that all was well, she could see to her own needs once he was safely back on his side of the dorm.

Besides, Emma had heard enough chatter about Killian’s adventurous love life to know that she should steer clear. They had built a good friendship over the school year, and she valued it far too much to ruin things; exactly what would happen if she became another notch on his headboard.

While she couldn’t fully control her body’s reactions at the moment, her brain helpfully reminded her about what he’d told her back in September. Killian wasn’t looking to become a one-woman guy anytime soon, and Emma had no interest in being anyone’s plaything ever again. There was no reason that she couldn’t make it through tonight.

Somehow.

“Shall we watch, then? I still cannot believe you’ve only seen The Godfather once! That’s a bloody crime, Swan— you have to see it as many times as possible in order to really appreciate Coppola’s genius,” Killian quipped smugly, and she glared at the outline of him shaking his head and chuckling at her expense.

Good, she thought to herself. He hasn’t even noticed that I’m freaking out over here, and he doesn’t ever have to know. I can resist this...

“Yeah, ok, Roger Ebert. The deal was that if I watched the whole movie, you’d give the Milk Dud-melted popcorn a legitimate try, so eat up!” Emma sassed, trying to deflect attention from her shaky voice as he clicked through the dvd’s menu.

“You’ve certainly gotten the better end of the deal, love. This popcorn concoction of yours looks fucking disgusting. Do I really have to eat it?” he asked with an exaggerated groan, and Emma almost bit through her lower lip to keep herself from reacting to the sound.

The speed at which her symptoms intensified made Emma’s head spin. In a few short minutes, her world had shrunken down to fit on the head of a pin. The deep-seated Omega instincts within her screamed for what only an Alpha - or the perfectly good silicone toy hidden in her underwear drawer - could provide. Worse, it seemed like her hormones didn’t care if the guy in question was her best friend— as long as both partners were attracted and consenting, Killian had what she needed to get the release she craved.

“Oh, pardon me for sharing my grubby American snack food! You come from a place where they eat stewed tomatoes and animal intestines for breakfast, so do me a favor and shut up so I can concentrate on ‘really appreciating’ Coppola’s genius,” Emma drawled in a terrible impression of his accent, rolling her eyes. He just snickered and clicked the play button, scooping a handful of popcorn out of the bowl.

As the familiar opening music played, Emma focused intently on the screen. She wouldn’t think about the Alpha lounging on her bed, and how his presence was causing her heart to beat so fast that it felt ready to burst right through her chest, Aliens style. Nope, she wouldn’t let herself fall victim to the urges rippling through her body; it was too risky. She couldn’t lose him.

########

The Godfather really was Killian’s favorite movie, but he would’ve suffered through an 24 hour marathon of *The Three Stooges* if it gave him a chance to be alone with Emma Swan.

They had only known each other for a few short months, but from the moment they met — placed in a group together at freshman orientation last August — the two of them just clicked. When their brand new roommates got hot and heavy with each other that first weekend, they both found themselves banished to the common room on Emma’s floor, where they wound up talking for hours. It was one of those friendship-cementing, life-story-sharing bonding sessions that happen so often in college.

As the weeks flashed by, they settled into a reliable, platonic friendship. During their epic talk, Emma confessed that she was on a self-imposed vacation from relationships — a messy breakup with a Beta, some hometown loser called Neal — and to mask his disappointment, Killian embellished his 19 year-old teenager’s fantasy of being a ladies’ man.

He instantly regretted his words when her beautifully expressive face shut down, so he quickly changed the subject and cracked cheesy jokes to get a smile out of her. From then on, Killian made sure they never broached the topic again, and by the fall semester’s end, they had developed a platonic bond that he treasured far more than any hookup.

Of course, that didn’t mean he’d ever stopped wanting her.

Emma never had to know that she starred in his dreams every night, but Killian wasn’t sure she’d even care. At first, it really wounded his inner Alpha’s pride that she never seemed *into* him, but Emma was complicated like that: combative one day, and cuddly the next.

Besides, he could never stay away from her for long, especially when she drank just enough to get tipsy, and she’d snuggle into his side, sliding close enough to scratch her fingers through his hair. Pathetically, he lived for these brief intimate moments, when he could inhale her fruity shampoo and a wisp of her muted scent, imagining that she was his.

One thing was for certain: she wasn’t like other girls at school, nor was she like any other Omega Killian had known in his life. Emma Swan was in a class all her own, and full of contradictions: she possessed uncommon beauty and fierce intelligence, but she could be stubborn as a mule and prickly as a pineapple. By earning her trust, he’d become one of the few allowed to know that beneath her tough exterior beat an incredibly soft and generous heart. The more time he spent in her company, from late night diner study breaks to pre-party drinking sessions with their group of friends, the more enamored he became.

Most of their fellow freshmen were living away from home for the first time in their lives, so they were more than happy to unleash, experiment, and play. Killian, along with his buddies Rob, August, and Phillip, partied almost every weekend of the fall semester, and more often than he cared to admit, he’d wake up the next morning in a random girl’s bed.

That ladies’ man lie he’d told Emma had become his reality, but he didn’t feel good about it, and he was damn lucky he hadn’t called anyone by her name. Yet.

Since there were seemingly no secrets at Storybrooke College, when word spread that Killian Jones knew exactly how to please a lady, a legend was born all on its own.

All of that female attention, along with his self-proclaimed “dashing rapscallion” nature, had earned him admiration from fellow Alphas at SBC, but it was all a ruse. In private, he tried to keep a careful distance from the women he slept with, paying more attention to their satisfaction than his own, and never engaging with an Omega in heat. Part of him felt guilty, like he was leading them on; after all, it wasn’t their fault that was hung up on Emma Swan.

Killian was raised to always strive to be a man of honor, so he never promised anyone more than he could give.

So he waited, caught in a holding pattern between the undeniable pull of Alpha ego-stroking and his lovesick puppy dog feelings for Emma, unsure if she would ever return them. In the meantime, he contented himself with her friendship, hoping that eventually she’d see him in a different light.

######

For a solid half hour, everything was normal, and the Corleone family wedding unfolded on Emma’s small, battered tv screen like it always did. As the sequence ended with father and daughter waltzing to the movie’s theme music, Emma suddenly seized up with a burning pain deep in her pelvis. Struggling for breath, she tried to hide her discomfort by burrowing further into her blanket.

Immediately, the film paused and her tiny bedside light clicked on, illuminating Killian’s worried expression in the otherwise dark room.

“Swan? Are you alright over there?” he asked, and she tried to say something to reassure him, but another flash of pain made her dig her fingernails into her palms to keep from crying out. She couldn’t speak without sounding desperately needy, so she clamped her mouth shut and breathed through her nose.

Killian was aware that something was off about Emma from the minute she walked into the room that night, but now the problem was glaringly obvious: the ventilation in her room was on the fritz. Her sweet scent, usually muted by the system, beckoned— the sudden seismic jolt of lust that rolled over him meant that Emma was starting an intense heat phase. If he was truly her friend, and a man of honor, he’d get out of her way as soon as possible.

Why couldn’t he tear himself away, then?

Suddenly, Emma sat up with a shocked expression on her face. Her eyes squeezed shut and then she shook her head, as if she was trying to clear the fog from her brain.

“Shit, no wonder I’m feeling all out of whack…I left my pills in the bag I lent to Mary Margaret for the weekend!” Emma yelped with embarrassment, as a flush crept from her chest all the way up to her face. Quickly, the sweaty-shivering feeling was back, and it continued to increase in intensity right alongside a narrowing of her focus to one thing: Alpha.

“I don’t mean to pry, love, but are those pills of yours suppressants?” Killian asked her gently, and even though she was purposefully looking away, she could still feel his gaze burning into her.

“Um, I’m not exactly sure? I’ve been taking them since I was 13, and I was too embarrassed to ask anyone at the group home — even the doctor who gave them to me — about woman-type stuff. I never missed a dose before!” Emma admitted, feeling flustered and ridiculous.

She sucked in a breath when it dawned on her: the medicine she thought she was only taking to regulate her cycle had also dramatically reduced the intensity of her quarterly heats for the past six years. Most of the other Omega girls at school constantly complained about symptoms and urges that drove them mad, but Emma figured she was just lucky.

Apparently not. How could she have been so clueless?

“Six years? That’s an awfully long time, Emma. Maybe you should call the health center, you know, check in with them about side effects and erm…” he trailed off, his face heating up as he searched his brain for the right words.

She shifted uncomfortably on her roommate’s bed, full of nerves in Killian’s presence. Most of their guy friends were Alphas too, but Emma didn’t usually give it much thought. David was around so often that she considered him more of a brother figure, or an extension of Mary Margaret. It was similar to her neutral feelings about Rob, or August, or any of the other guys in their circle; they were only friends, nothing more.

“Ugh Jones, you know I don’t like that place! The doctor over there is always so creepy,” Emma deflected with a pout, pulling her hair up into a messy bun.

With Killian, everything had always been different, in the best way. Emma wanted to be with him: they could spend hours in each other’s company, talking about anything under the sun without getting bored, or just studying together in comfortable silence. Now that she thought about it, she was always happier when he was around, more open and affectionate than she’d been with anyone else in her life.

It wasn’t until tonight that Emma knew she’d have no problem letting him help her through this little hiccup in her cycle.

At the same time, he was probably the closest thing she’d ever had to a best friend, other than Mary Margaret. They just understood each other. How could she ever risk that friendship over something as trivial as sex?

But oh…imagining what it would be like to be together in that way, sharing that physical and emotional connection with him, made her tremble with a heightened sense of anticipation. She needed him to quench the flames rising inside of her.

Unbidden, an image of them in bed, sweaty and sated and intimately tied together, formed in her mind.

It was simple biology: Statistically, Alphas and Omegas had the best chance of conceiving children together. Omegas were born with enhanced fertility, and when combined with a natural lock binding them together (aka: an Alpha’s knot) was Mother Nature’s way of stacking the deck.

Advances in birth control made it possible for couples to decide when they wanted to have children, but no method was guaranteed. Emma didn’t want to leave anything to chance, so dating Beta men exclusively was her way of decreasing biology’s advantage.

With such a jumble of thoughts crowding her brain, Emma almost missed that her sharpened sense of smell picked up another pheromone overload in the room.

Could it be possible that he felt the same way about her?

She licked her lips at the thought of kissing him for real, causing her gut to clench. What would it be like to be with him? Emma played it out in her mind; surely it would be more than satisfying. From the gossip she’d heard, Killian was a sure bet, always knowing what women wanted. What would his hands feel like on her body? His presence loomed large in the tiny room, and it took all of her self control not to jump onto her bed and kiss the hell out of him.

How would he react? She had a feeling she would soon find out.

####

“Earth to Emma! Will you say something, please?” Killian asked, the alarm in his voice pulling her out of her reverie. At some point during her freakout, he had crossed the twelve feet of space between the beds and pulled out her roommate’s desk chair, sitting close by but not invading her space. Emma was instantly relieved by the gesture, reminding herself that Killian was the guy she’d grown to depend on, not some brute who only saw a sweet-smelling Omega he could use to satisfy his basest urges.

“I’m scared, Killian,” she admitted, feeling so hot and sweaty that she had to force herself to unwrap the blanket from her body. “This has never happened to me before! What if I can’t control myself, or some random Alpha picks up on what’s going on, and he tries to force me to — ugh, I don’t know! Maybe I should call Mary Margaret, and see if I can just pick up my pills from her,” she fretted, twisting a corner of the fleece in her grip nervously.

“I understand,” he soothed, interrupting her anxiety spike. “You’ve got to breathe, though, because you're going to hyperventilate if you keep this up. Can you do that for me first, Swan?”

Emma listened to him, closing her eyes and taking a few deep breaths. Soon enough, her heartbeat slowed back to its regular rhythm, and even though the warm hand he’d tentatively placed on her back sent electric sparks down her spine, his reassuring touch made her feel safe and grounded.

Once he was sure that the worst had passed, Killian began to speak again, unsure of how she’d react.

“The trouble is, Emma, that David and Mary Margaret are about an hour’s drive from here. If you still want to go and get your pills, I’m happy to drive you. But if you’d rather stay here and ride it out, I’ll say it right now: I won’t leave you unprotected,” Killian told her bluntly. Emma looked utterly confused until her muffled brain picked up his meaning. She was livid.

“Oh, are you going to stand outside my door and defend my honor? Believe me, I can handle myself just fine, Jones,” she seethed, spitting his name out like poison as she launched herself to her feet. He watched, speechless as she tugged on the doorknob, exposing their private little world to the whitewashed concrete and fluorescent-lit hallway.

“I think you should just leave for a little while.”

He flinched at her cold tone, but Killian had enough sense to risk trying to dominate her. Clearly, Emma needed her space — he knew she’d want to get back in full control of herself as soon as possible — but there wasn’t a chance in hell that he’d stand by and watch her drive alone, especially in her disoriented state.

It didn’t help matters that they’d been in her room for a while, so he was completely surrounded by Emma’s lovely scent, which had always reminded him of the summer sun, mixed with sweet melon and tart strawberries. That night, it had a more sensual, muskier edge than he was used to, so instead of feeling happy and comfortable like he usually did in her presence, he could barely resist the urge to bury his face in her neck.

In general, Killian was pretty confident in his ability to control himself, but he had no idea how much longer he could physically stand being in the same room with Emma that night. His purely Alpha desire to possess and mark her could send them spiraling down a friendship-ending path.

“If that’s what you really want, I’ll go,” he said quietly, lifting himself up off Emma’s bed. He waited for her to say something, but she just gestured toward the door, her green eyes unreadable.

“I’d really appreciate that, at least for a little while,” she admitted, and the shaky breathiness in her voice both raised his protective hackles and sent a jolt of lust surging through his blood.

He needed to leave the room.

“Of course, Swan. I won’t go far, so if you need anything, just text or call and I’ll come right back. And if you decide that you’d like to drive out, just say the word and I’ll pick you up, ok?” he assured her calmly as he walked through the open door, even though his insides were churning with nervous energy. She just nodded, sagging against the wall. Her eyes were glassy, like she’d been drugged.

Killian had been with enough women of Emma’s type to know that when they got that glazed look, their instincts could overrule their rational brains at any time. There had to be at least a hundred other Alphas in their dorm alone, and he knew he wouldn’t hesitate to kill any one of them if they dared to take advantage of her in such a vulnerable state.

He needed to call Elsa, and quickly.

———-

The phone seemed to ring forever, and by the time someone picked up the line, Killian was practically tearing his hair out.

“Little brother, why are you calling so late? Everything alright?” Liam’s voice, usually so welcome to his ears, sounded like nails scraping against chalkboard to someone as keyed up as Killian was at that moment.

“I’m fine, just put me on with your wife. Please,” he begged through gritted teeth, hating the pathetic cracking in his voice.

“You don’t sound fine,” Liam observed casually, as if he was across the room and not 3,000 miles away. “Are you on drugs?”

“LIAM! I called Elsa, not you. If she’s there, put her on the bloody phone,” he growled. Moments later, his sister-in-law’s calming voice came onto the line.

“Killian? Tell me what’s wrong,” she soothed, and the buildup of adrenaline began to drain from his bloodstream as fast as it had rushed in, leaving him feeling depleted and foolish. He sagged down onto a park bench, head in his hands as he cradled the phone between his shoulder and ear.

“Elsa, I need your advice. I have a very close friend who needs my help, you know? Problem is, she’s a skittish lass, and I don’t know if I can give her what she needs without ruining the friendship. On the other hand, the thought of anyone else touching her makes me feel sick. What should I do?”

A soft chuckle floated across the line, and he exhaled with relief, knowing that Elsa needed no further explanation.

“Well, it sounds like you care about this girl quite a lot. We’re talking about your friend Emma, right?” Elsa guessed, the gentle teasing in her voice already helping to calm his anxiety.

“Yes, h-how did you know?” he asked, his voice stuttering in disbelief.

“Besides the fact that Emma is the only woman I’ve ever heard about for the entire time you’ve been at school? If your roles were reversed, and she offered to help you through a rut, would you take the risk?”

Killian didn’t even need to think about his answer. “In a bloody second! It would be amazing, but I already know that I’m mad for her. Emma hasn’t ever wanted anything but friendship from me, and it feels an awful lot like I’d be taking advantage.” he told his sister-in-law, as his heart pounded with uncertainty.

“Killian, I know that time is of the essence here, so I’ll be crystal clear: Calm down, give Emma the space to decide what she wants, then follow her lead! Trust me, her reaction will clear up any questions about where you stand in her mind. It doesn’t sound to me like she’s going to freeze you out,” she assured him, and after thanking Elsa profusely and apologizing again for calling them so late, he hung up.

Almost immediately, his phone buzzed with a new text from Emma:

*I’m really sorry for kicking you out. If you’re still ok with driving up to David’s place, then I’d like to go with you.*

Killian clutched the phone in his hand, almost giddy at the thought of finally being free to kiss and touch and care for Emma the way she deserved. Self doubt still plagued his soul, and he knew that getting this close to her without knowing how she felt about him was a gamble, but it was his choice. The privilege of being there for Emma was its own reward, and it would be worth the risk.

####

As his truck barreled down the uneven road that marked the final leg of their journey to David’s cabin, Killian winced every time the rocky terrain made Emma gasp or cry out in discomfort. He couldn’t read her expression since she was still curled up in her fleece cocoon, but each agonizing sound tore into his soul.

Killian knew how simple it would be for him to relieve her pain, but he was still worried that she’d interpret that offer as a violation of their friendship, and hate him for even suggesting such a thing.

“I’m so sorry, love. We’ll be there soon, I promise,” he assured her, reaching his right hand out to give her what was meant to be a comforting squeeze. The moment his hand made contact with her blanketed body, with the cool touch of his fingers so close to her heated skin, Emma tore the blanket away, breathing heavily. Her blonde hair floated around her like a gorgeous mess, her skin was flushed crimson, and the look in her eyes nearly made him slam on the brakes in the middle of the road.

“Killian, you’ve got to pull over, right now!” she heard herself tell him, but her voice sounded like it was detached from her being. The strange, searing pain actually freed her from all inhibitions, leaving her in a puddle of feelings and primal urges that blew common sense right out the window.

All she knew for sure was that Killian was right there, and he was all she could think about. The way their scents mingled together in the truck’s cabin caused all of her other senses to light up, like she was a fuse ready to blow at any second.

“What’s wrong, love? Need some fresh air?” Killian asked as he pulled off to the side of the road and turned on the hazard lights. He knew that she probably felt extremely vulnerable, but had no idea what was going on inside that head of hers.

He did not expect to see Emma sizing him up with that lusty Omega stare, her eyes blazing a brilliant shade of green. The sight made him gasp in astonishment, a sound that he tried, unsuccessfully, to cover with a cough.

Emma spoke in a clear, confident voice.

“Killian, listen to me. I’ve been trying to ignore or will these feelings away, but every cell in my body is telling me exactly how to take care of the pain. It’s telling me that I need you…Alpha,” she admitted. Her voice shook as she used his title for the first time.

Her words stoked a fire in his belly that could easily turn into an inferno.

Killian hadn’t expected to hear her say those words…ever. He put the car back in drive, veering further off from the track-marked road, and parked. As the engine idled, Killian squeezed his eyes shut, wracking his brain for a solution that didn’t end with him giving into temptation. *This isn’t some random hookup, it’s Emma. If she was in her right mind, this wouldn’t be happening, mate* he told himself, cracking his eyes open as he took a deep breath to get his wits about him.

It wasn’t his best idea. The sweet scent from her heat had intensified, awakening a primal instinct in his brain and making his head swim with lust. He shifted in his seat, instantly hard as a rock. When she looked at him, he could tell that she knew exactly what he was thinking. Emma just smirked as she licked her lips.

“You can feel it too, can’t you, Alpha? I know you want me…I can practically taste it in the air. I want you too,” Emma told him breathlessly, in what was probably the most seductive whisper he’d ever heard.

“I’m honored that you’d consider me worthy of that kind of trust, Emma, truly,” he said gently, taking one of her hands in his and threading their fingers together.

“But are you certain? Completely sure?” Killian’s voice, while still quiet, sounded raspy and more urgent, like he was ready to do anything she desired of him.

“Yeah,” she breathed, nodding, and before he knew it, Emma had unlocked her seatbelt and closed the gap between them, pressing her lips to his for the first time. Her lips were softer than he could have ever imagined, and their mouths fit together as perfectly as he had always hoped they would. Adorably, she still tasted like popcorn and chocolate.

By the time they pulled apart for air, Emma had somehow straddled the console, getting halfway across and into his lap. They were pressed even closer together by the truck’s oversized steering wheel.

With a growl, Killian wrenched the seat back an extra couple of inches and lifted her the rest of the way, touching his forehead to hers as their breathing slowed.

“I guess we don’t need to bother David and Mary Margaret after all!” Emma giggled, brushing her hair out of her face before setting her hands on his shoulders.

“Trust me, they wouldn’t want to see what I have in store,” Killian replied with a devilish grin, reaching for her yet again. Their kisses grew deeper, and Emma raked her fingers through his hair while Killian’s hands roamed over every square inch of her body that he could reach, squeezing her ass with a satisfied groan. She responded by grinding herself against his lap, looping her arms around his neck as she went faster.

“Please…oh God, I want to come. Touch me, talk to me,” she moaned against him, bucking her hips faster to increase the friction. He nodded, kissing her exposed neck all the way up to a spot behind her ear that he had already chosen as his favorite.

“You’re so fucking beautiful like this, Emma…I can’t wait to see you fall apart,” he whispered harshly against her ear, sliding his palm up her thigh and under her shorts before slipping two fingers into her heat, pumping and curling them in rhythm with her gyrations. She felt so perfectly tight and wet with slick that he had to restrain himself from rutting against her, choosing instead to press his nose against the flesh of her throat, breathing her in while focusing on her body. Emma mewled with pleasure, clawing her fingers across his back.

“Yes…Keep talking, Alpha, please!” she urged, riding his fingers in the narrow space.

“Feeling you against me makes me want to rip all your clothes off... I can see it right now, you naked and writhing against me while I’m deep inside you, filling you up. Is that what you want, Omega? Because I want you, have always wanted you, so badly…” he rasped, and she exploded seconds later, clenching hard against his fingers and coating them in her essence. She was unrestrained, shouting his name and his title as she shivered and shook in his arms.

It took a while for Emma to float back down to reality, so while she rested, he gently withdrew his fingers and licked them clean, unable to resist getting a taste of her sweetness. As she came back to herself, she could feel the soft press of Killian’s lips against her collarbone, near the scent gland all Omegas had right under the skin. It felt like the gland itself pulsed with its own energy, and when Emma pressed her fingers there, the whole patch of skin was raised and surprisingly fiery to the touch.

“Killian, I don’t know what’s going on! Feel here— it’s really hot, so be careful,” she fretted anxiously, cringing when he touched the pad of his index finger gently against her skin.

Instead of freaking out, he just waggled his eyebrows and flashed her a cheeky smile. But when the fear in her eyes didn’t go away, Killian’s expression softened.

“All that it means, Emma, is that your system is functioning exactly as it’s supposed to,” he told her, stroking her cheek. She smiled and nuzzled into his touch, but as she tipped forward to kiss him, the slight shift of her weight in his lap caused a deep groan to rumble up from Killian’s throat.

“Shit! I’m so sorry, Killian, I was caught up in the moment and I didn’t think-” she started to apologize, guilt written across her face.

“It’s not a problem, love. I’m the one helping you, so I’ll likely not go without,” he teased, and the look on his face — a bit of sheepishness disguised by a rogue’s smile — made Emma giggle, sighing with relief.

“That’s very true, although I might have put it a little differently!” Emma chided him with a playful smack on his chest, and they grinned dopily at each other, hair hopelessly mussed, and still reeling from the high of their new bond.

“So, while you’re still sated and lucid, we should talk about where we’re going to spend the next couple of days,” Killian suggested, reaching past her to grab his phone from the console. Feeling a bit self conscious now that the urgency had passed, Emma gave him a peck on the lips and scrambled back over to her seat.

“Killian, are you crazy? You can’t just drop everything for me!” she exclaimed, her eyes widening in surprise.

“Of course I can, Swan!” Killian scoffed, but when he looked up from his phone, the welling of tears in her eyes reminded him of how vulnerable she was feeling and how big a step this was for them both. “To be there with you, to aid you, would be my honor.”

She smiled, pressing her lips together as a rosy blush bloomed on her cheeks.

He reached over, taking her hand in his. “Emma, unless you send me away I will always be by your side, whenever you need me. Please, don’t ever doubt that,” he told her, bringing her knuckles to his lips without breaking their eye contact. She held his gaze, nodding as a shy smile played across her lips.

“I won’t, I promise,” she said quietly, almost in a whisper, but an intrusive chiming sound sent her scrambling for her purse. Killian was dying to know who had interrupted them, but not wanting to seem overprotective — even though his skin practically itched with the desire to knock the phone out of her hand, carry her into the back of his truck, and claim her as his own — he turned his attention back to his online search.

“Oh, it’s Mary Margaret! Guess the reception in this area isn’t so bad after all, buddy,” she teased, gently poking him in the ribs with her elbow. He grunted in reply, her light touch reigniting the spark of desire he no longer had to hide from her.

“She said that she’s got my stuff, and that we can come right over. What do you think?” Emma asked, her tone sounding conflicted.

“Honestly, I’d rather keep you right here, and preferably much closer,” he teased, squeezing her thigh with a wicked grin. “But will you need your pills for any, ahem, more amorous pursuits?”

Emma snorted at his euphemism, like she always did when teasing him about using big fancy words.

“Amorous pursuits, huh? No, I have an IUD for that, but I’ve never been off those pills,” she said, furrowing her brow as she thought it over. “But if they’re meant to suppress, wouldn’t they mute the things I’m feeling now too? I don’t think I want to go back, not if it means giving this up,” Emma said saucily, taking a moment to tap out a quick reply to her roommate before grabbing his face and pulling him toward her for the most aggressive kiss she had ever given anyone, tangling her tongue with his, and catching his lower lip with her teeth so she could nip it playfully.

Giving herself over to the desire to possess him, like he was hers, seemed to unlock an entirely new world to explore. Every touch and kiss felt more intense, and knowing that he trusted her enough to let her play, testing his boundaries, was more of a turn-on than either of them expected. “Did you know that this truck has a fully collapsible backseat?” Killian told her, sounding absolutely wrecked when they pulled apart to catch their breath. Emma chuckled, running her fingers through his already messy hair.

“Exactly what kind of girl do you think I am, Jones?” she asked wide-eyed, pulling herself out of his embrace. Killian opened his mouth to reply, but all words flew out of his mind when Emma rose up to kneel on her seat, reaching back to unclasp her bra. He watched, entranced, as the white straps began to slip down her shoulders.

“I think,” he began slowly, choosing his words carefully as he hooked his thumbs through each strap, tugging them the rest of the way down her arms as she gasped. “I think that I’m one lucky bastard to have such a sexy, gorgeous woman in my truck. And you’ve got your Alpha all alone in the woods, willing and ready to do your bidding. That means you should feel free to share every dirty little desire you can imagine, so that I can do whatever it takes to keep you satisfied,” he told her huskily, gratified to see her shiver.

Emma just stared at him hungrily, letting her bra drop down onto the seat. Her white tank top left barely anything to the imagination; it was just a flimsy piece of nearly sheer cotton that barely concealed her taut nipples, straining against the fabric as they were.

“Like my own personal, hmm...boy toy?” she teased, leaning against the console on her elbows to give him an eyeful of her cleavage. His jaw slackened at the sight of her heaving chest, all of that flushed, soft skin pushed up by her forearms.

He wanted to bury his face right there and her smirk confirmed that she knew it, so he raised one cocky eyebrow. “I assure you, love, I am anything but a boy…”

She chuckled, hopping into the back and beckoning for him to join her. Emma barely had time to grab her blanket to spread over the backseat before he opened the door and lunged for her, nearly ripping her top and shorts off in his urgency to feel more of her. She yelped, dragging him forward so he could shut the back door and release whatever mechanism was responsible for flattening the backseat rests. They toppled back with a bang, and Killian clutched her to his chest, an overwhelming instinct to protect her overriding every other thought in his head.

“Killian, it’s starting to hurt again,” she whimpered, looking at him with wide eyes full of desire and fear. He couldn’t help himself, bending his head to kiss her gently, trying to chase away even a fraction of her discomfort.

“Don’t worry, love,” he murmured tenderly, helping her to lie down comfortably before shucking his shirt and jeans off and throwing them into the front seat. “Just let me take care of you first, and then we’ll decide what happens next together, yeah?”

She nodded as he settled next to her, silently placing her trust in his hands as she cupped his face in hers. The look in her eyes caused his heart to swell with pride, but the jumble of anticipation and nerves made him freeze up for a moment, unsure of what to do first. Luckily, Emma acted on instinct, parting her thighs and panting his name, and Killian was drawn in like a magnet, tangling his fingers in her hair as he kissed her. Tongues dueling for control, their kisses grew frantic and he pressed even closer, groaning at the feeling of her breasts pressed against his bare chest.

“You’re so warm, Alpha. I want you inside me so badly…” she crooned, hooking her thigh over his hip, her desire to be joined clear from the slick that soaked through her underwear to run freely between her thighs. Killian clenched his jaw, trying to hang on to a scintilla of control instead of mindlessly plowing into her. That thread snapped when she reached into his boxers and stroked his cock with a firm grip, tugging the cotton down his hips with her free hand.

“This belongs to me now,” she rasped, continuing to pump his length as she swiped her thumb over the sensitive tip, smirking triumphantly when he shook with a groan he was too far gone to suppress.

“Bloody fuck, Omega, you’re impossible to resist a second longer..” he growled possessively, and with one last nod from her, he ripped her underwear from her body and eased his way inside her, filling her up until they were both left cursing and gasping with relief.

“Oh my God, this is perfect. You feel so perfect,” Emma purred contentedly as unexpected tears gathered in her eyes. Eager to get even closer, she locked her ankles against his lower back, using her legs to draw him in just a little deeper.

“You…you’re the most extraordinary woman I’ve ever met, Emma,” he breathed, wiping a few errant tears off her cheeks. He shifted his hips experimentally within the limited range of motion he had available. Every slight movement had her making the most delicious sounds, lubricating his cock in her impossibly warm depths.

Killian wasn’t quite sure if she was holding him in like that for physical or emotional reasons, so he guessed it was probably a mix of the two. Since he had promised to be there for whatever Emma needed, it didn’t matter; he didn’t intend to let her down.

“There’s something I never told you,” she whispered after a few moments had passed, unwinding her ankles and letting her knees fall open. A simple roll of her hips told him that it was ok to start moving, but he kept his thrusts shallow, enjoying the sweetness of her scent and the press of her skin against his.

“You can me anything,; I’m right here, Omega,” he assured her, pressing their foreheads together as their bodies rose and fell in rhythm. The fact that she was letting him care for her this way meant so much more than he could have ever imagined.

Emma began her confession haltingly, trying to find the right words. “It’s just that, well— I’ve never been knotted before. I never wanted it before, but… but with you, it’s like I need it, desperately,” she admitted, squeezing her eyes shut.

“Look at me, Emma, please,” he croaked, going still inside of her. When their eyes locked, he kissed her, gently biting her bottom lip when he pulled away. He began moving again, lengthening his strokes as he gradually increased their pace.

“There is nothing I want more than to give that to you, love, but not in the truck,” he told her, almost apologetically. “I’ve never experienced anything like this before, honestly. Maybe it’s because of you and your insatiable need, hmm….”

She whimpered, grinding her pelvis against his. Her fingers threaded through his hair as she kissed him deeply, eventually dragging him down closer to her chest.

Eagerly, he kissed his way across the valley between her breasts, biting down on a stiff nipple with each pass. His worship of her body nearly drove Emma over the edge again, her pants turning into staccato cries as she thrashed beneath him.

“Fuck, your tits are perfect, just like the rest of you…” he muttered, lowering himself to his forearms so he could squeeze each one, sucking her nipples and gently biting the rounded flesh like he wanted to brand her with his mark.

“Harder, I can take it… I’m so, so close, Alpha!” she cried out, gripping his biceps so hard that her fingernails nearly cut into his skin.

Killian grunted, using the pain to help him concentrate on pounding into her like she wanted, while trying to stave off his knot.

He didn’t want her first experience of that particularly mind-numbing pleasure to happen in the backseat of his truck.

“Are you gonna come for your Alpha? Show me how hard you can squeeze my cock,” he rumbled, feeling his orgasm start to build as a gush of her slick coated his base.

“Ohmigod…Alpha…YES!!” Emma screamed, clamping down tight on his cock as she launched into the stratosphere, her orgasm last longer than she’d ever experienced before.

He followed with a shout moments later, filling her up with his release as her aftershocks fluttered against his sensitive skin.

“Killian, that was amazing,” Emma purred as he rolled to the side, scooping her into his arms. She had a wide, lazy smile on her face as she burrowed tightly against his side, scratching her fingers through his chest hair.

“I think we make quite the team,” he told her fondly, kissing the top of her head. He let his head fall back onto the blanket, looking up at the truck’s ceiling. “I can hardly wait to get you into a nice big bed, and show you all of the other ways I can get you to come.”

The way his voice lowered seductively sent a surge of arousal straight to her core. Emma felt a wave of slick dampen her thighs, surprised that she could want his body again so soon.

“Where should we go? I want to have you again, already — maybe in the shower…” she suggested, grabbing his wrist and brushing his fingers against her brand new wetness.

Killian groaned when he felt the slick between her thighs, almost thrown into a mindless sex haze himself at the thought of how full of their combined releases her channel was.

He allowed himself the indulgence of slipping one finger into her dripping center, dying to find out what they tasted like together.

“We’re so fucking good together, Omega, just like I knew we would be — tastes like nectar from the gods. Take a taste, then we’re getting dressed. There may be an available room back at school by now.” he told her, gently slapping her ass before they sat up.

Emma grabbed his finger and drew the tip into her mouth, sucking experimentally.

She’d given a couple of blowjobs to Neal back in high school, and she remembered swallowing quickly, disliking the bitter aftertaste.

With Killian, she was sure it’d be much better, and she was right; the fluid was sweet and pleasantly salty, like the ocean on a sunny day. She darted her tongue out, and was licking his finger clean when she caught a glimpse of him staring at her, transfixed.

“You’re a real minx, aren’t you, Swan? C’mere,” he beckoned, his lopsided grin making her feel warm inside.

Emma shuffled a few inches over on her knees, and was rewarded with a passionate, mind-numbing kiss. It left her in a daze, accepting the clothes he handed her and dressing herself like her brain was on autopilot.

#####

***CHAPTER 2 COMING SOON***

Thanks and hugs to my CSMM enablers 😏

Tag list (happy to add or delete on request): @kmomof4, @undercaffinatednightmare @ultraluckycatnd @jrob64 @justanother-unluckysoul @jonesfandomfanatic @caught-in-the-filter @hollyethecurious @holdingoutforapiratehero @mie779 @booksteaandtoomuchtv @the-darkdragonfly @sailtoafarawayland @djlbg @eddisfargo

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cs-rylie · 1 year ago

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My first CSSNS fic, The Journal! A ghost story based on Native American mythology

Updates every Thursday

Taglist below the line - lmk if you want to be added or removed!

@jrob64 @kmomof4 @teamhook @undercaffinatednightmare @booksteaandtoomuchtv @herhookedhero @chronicallybubbly @elfiola @zaharadessert @tiganasummertree @hookedmom @djlbg @stardreamer28 @tequedarasavinon @stahlop @gingerchangeling @middlemistcs13 @csadmire @deckerstarblanche @xellewoods @anmylica @huntressandlioness1 @insanelydeadlybookcollector @lfh1226-linda @motherkatereloyshipper @dashingpiratesandswans @momontheice @rapunzelsghosts @paradiselady19 @a-faekindagirl @eddisfargo @julesep3026 @caityrayeraye @bluewildcatfanatic @kday426 @winterbaby89 @jonesfandomfanatic @charmed101 @bg12sofia @ouat-the-hell @xarandomdreamx @zippoluv @flslp87 @captainswan-shipper88 @grimmswan @laschatzi @jennjenn615 @darkshadow7 @pygmypufftattoo @bizquake

#rylieoriginal #captain swan #cssns23 #ouat #ao3 #captain swan supernatural summer #killian jones #emma swan #once upon a time #fanfic #ouat fanfiction #cs #emma x killian #fanfiction #killian x emma #silverhook #ghost story #Native American Mythology #the journal

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snoozealarms · 1 year ago

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How to end a frontend developer's career

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mie779 · 1 year ago

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MY CSSNS FIC

Finding Caldera -The Hidden World of Dragons

It has been such fun reading this year's CSSNS (@cssns ) contributions, some I still haven't read, but they are saved and I'll be subscribing to those who have started a multiple chapter fic.

This year my focus was on dragons, and while one could have picked the type of dragons found in Game of Thrones, I looked towards my kid's favorite dragon movie "How to Train Your Dragon". Movies I love myself, and find the story of Hiccup and Astrid very sweet and romantic, and their characters could deff be CaptainSwan in my world. So I changed the Vikings out with Pirates in this OUAT take on "How to Train your Dragon". And added a touch of steampunk too, just because I do love the old classic "Treasure Planet"

I had the pleasure of being paired with @undercaffinatednightmare as my artist. She made this beautiful mood board for the story

My beta help has been @th3capta1n who had been a valuable help fixing obvious grammar mistakes. Thank you.

Read it here FF.NET and AO3

#ouat #once upon a time #killian jones #captain swan #fanfiction #emma swan #my writing #writers #writers on tumblr #ouat fanfiction #cssns23

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athenascarlet · 1 year ago

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The Merman Pirate

Summary: Emma was trying to settle back into normal life after her trip to Neverland so answering calls to the sheriff’s office feels good again. Except the call leads her to the local school and something she never expected. Rating: T Notes: For @cssns! I’m so excited to get this story out for Captain Swan Supernatural Summer. I’ve been thinking about Hook as a merman for awhile now and found this to be a fun one-shot to get out of my brain. Post-Neverland but pre-Pan curse. Just a normal night with a princess and a pirate. ;)

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The sky was dark and stormy as Emma drove through the streets of Storybrooke with her windshield wipers on high to clear the water away.

She had been back for a whole day from Neverland and was already fielding calls to handle another issue as a sheriff of this town. She didn’t really mind though. After being stuck on that stupid island for however long they were there, it was nice to be back and handling the normal calls that came into the office.

It also helped to distract her from what was going on with her son. Henry didn’t seem himself after the Jolly Roger returned to town, but she was still trying to figure out exactly what was going on there.

So a report to the sheriff’s office that someone broke into the town’s school? Totally normal and a good distraction.

Emma pulled up to the front of the school and ran through the pouring rain to the front door. Another benefit of working for the sheriff’s office is Emma had plenty of keys to buildings in the town, but it took her a few tries to find the one for the school.

She finally found the one she needed and slipped it quietly into the lock. The school itself was empty as she went through the halls checking classrooms and finding no one. Henry’s classroom included some artwork on the wall that he had done before they left for Neverland. It was just another reminder that despite their adventures, her son was still a kid going to school. Well, some days.

Emma made her way to the cafeteria and then the gym, finding no one. Perhaps the call was a dud or whoever was here had already left even though nothing seemed out of place.

There was a flash of lightning outside illuminating an open door on the far end of the gym and she started to make her way over as the thunder boomed overhead. Emma hoped it would hide the sound of her squeaky shoes on the floor.

She gently pushed the door open into the school’s pool, realizing she had never been in this part of the building before.

Emma didn’t always like Regina and it made her skin crawl at times thinking of the curse that Regina cast to create this town. But there were other times like now when she couldn’t help but admire Regina’s work. The pool’s walls were covered with tiles depicting colorful fish, sea serpents, and jellyfish. She wondered what Hook would think of this. He would probably ask to have someone add his Jolly Roger to the wall.

There was a splash from the pool and Emma’s attention was pulled in the direction of the water. It wasn’t still. There was someone in there.

She pushed herself into a shadow, realizing she had exposed her presence while staring at the walls. Her hand was on the holster of her gun as she peered back out into the water to see what was there.

And then she saw the mermaid.

Emma thought nothing could shock her when it came to magical creatures and fairy tale stories, but she couldn’t help but stare at the water glimmered on the scales of a gorgeous dark blue tail. It was darker than she expected and not like the tail that she had seen Ariel unfurl a few times in the open bay in Storybrooke.

And then the rest of the mermaid crested above the water, and Emma realized it wasn’t a mermaid.

He was a merman.

Hook.

His eyes were just above the waterline and she could tell it was him by his wet hair and that little peak on the top of his ears. But that was the only part of him above the water while his tail seemed to shimmer below the surface.

Emma took a breath and finally stepped out from her hiding spot. “Hook.”

He turned dramatically, his tail splashing through the surface as he pushed himself higher and his piercing blue eyes landed on her. A sexy sneer teased at the corner of his lips when he realized it was her and the tension in his shoulder seemed to slip away.

“Good evening, Swan. Fancy seeing you here this late.”

She walked over to the edge of the pool and looked down at him as he swam to the edge near her feet.

“I got a call about someone breaking and entering.”

“Well, I am a pirate.”

She crouched down to give him a closer look as his arms reached up to give him some extra leverage on the edge of the pool.

“You also seem to be a merman?”

“I do like the water.”

Emma shouldn’t be staring. She didn’t mean to stare. But Hook was right in front of her and he was a merman. His tail was dark against the light background of the pool and he was lazily flipping it around under the water. She wasn’t sure if this was the normal movement for his fin or if Hook was trying to put on a show because he could tell she was watching him.

And he was wearing clothes?

“What’s with the shirt?” she asked.

“The chlorine is harsh on my skin.”

“And why are you even here?”

There was another flash of light outside the pool’s window and thunder rolled overhead. Hook just looked up as a way to wordlessly answer the question.

“So you’re a mermaid who doesn’t swim when there’s water coming down from the sky?” she asked sarcastically.

“I’m a merman, Swan.” Hook’s tail flipped gently out of the water and back in as if to emphasize the difference. “And storms churn up all the dirt in the bay so I came here instead.”

“Sure,” she replied. “Yep, all logical.”

He shrugged and pushed off the wall, his tail swinging around underwater and then surfacing right where she was crouching, splashing her boots with a little water.

“Perhaps it’s not logical in your human realm, but you are the sheriff of a town full of people from the Enchanted Forest.”

“Don’t remind me.”

He gave her one of his wicked smiles and ducked down into the water, covering the length of the pool without coming up. He dove lower in the deep end and then quickly surfaced, the wet tail below his waist shimmering as he emerged high above the surface.

Then Hook was swimming back to her with the seductive look that reminded her of their kiss in Neverland. The way he stared at her, daring her to reward him for saving her father.

“Would you like to join me, Swan?”

They were back in Storybrooke now. She had to remember that. She was the sheriff who simply came across a merman because she was doing her job.

“Not tonight.”

Hook swam a little closer to her again and used his tail to hoist himself out of the water so he was eye level with her now. It was unnerving and delicious, and he was turning her on again just as he had when they were in Neverland.

“Perhaps another night then,” he said seductively.

Then he slipped back under the water and began his swim again.

Emma needed to remind herself that she was the sheriff and she was her on official sheriff business. Flirting with a merman was not part of her job description and she needed to get back to work.

She stood up and looked down at Hook in the pool again. He seemed content as if this was his way of releasing the frustration and stress from their time in Neverland. She wondered if she would ever have some kind of magic that could help her channel away those same feelings.

But that would have to be for another night.

“Make sure you lock up when you leave,” she yelled down into the water.

Hook surfaced again, his tail dragging behind him out of the water. “As you wish, Swan.”

As you wish. Unlike their moment in Neverland, this time his “As you wish” was teasing and flippant.

She liked the other way better.

The way he said it to her after she kissed him.

Emma knew that could never happen again.

“Good night, Hook,” she said before turning and heading back toward the gym and her job.

She heard a splash as his merman tail hit the water as she walked away.

#captain swan #csff #cssns #cssns23

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grimmswan · 5 months ago

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Dracula in Storybrooke part 5

For Captain Swan Supernatural Summer @cssns

Drake paced back and forth in the dark corridor. He made no sound as his feet touched the damp stones. His frustration and vampire speed making him look like a blur to the rats hiding in the walls.

He desired the Princess Swan. She was the embodiment of beauty and power. The fact that she was able to withstand his seduction only made her more desirable to him.

He thought of Emma, with her long golden hair. Running his hands through it would be like being able to touch the sun once again.

But at the moment, that filthy pirate was probably running his only hand through her hair.

Drake hissed at the thought that his bride was being contaminated by one so unworthy of her.

He needed to find a way to sever the bond between the two.

Renfield had told him it was impossible. But Renfield had chosen to change his name to Smee, so Drake didn’t think he was very intelligent or wise.

Dracula was certain that if the pirate captain was turned into a monster, the fair princess would realize she was better off with a dark prince.

Outside of Granny’s, in the warm sunlight, Killian did have one hand wrapped in Emma’s hair. His hook was pressed to the small of her back, keeping her close to him as their lips moved slowly together.

Emma let her fingertips dance along his jawline. She enjoyed the contrast of the rough stubble to the tender way he was kissing her.

She had noticed the yearning way he was looking at her and knew what he needed. But neither trust finding a dark corner for a quiet moment since the vampires had made an appearance.

So beside the overgrown hedge it was.

“I won’t survive losing you, Swan.” Killian whispered against her mouth. “Promise me that you will do everything in your power to protect yourself.”

“As long as you promise me the same thing.” She whispered back to him. “After everything we’ve been through, I don’t want to live without you, either.”

“You two are ridiculous.” Leroy’s frustrated tone broke through the couple’s intimate moment. “You’re only going to be separated for a few hours at most. We need to get back before sundown.”

Since logically the caves were the ideal place for those that needed to avoid sunlight, Emma, her parents, and Leroy would be searching the tunnels for any sign of Dracula and his vampires.

Killian, Dr. Whale, Belle, and Blue would be searching through all of the ancient tomes and scrolls they could find for a way to turn everyone human again, and defeat Dracula.

Killian had wanted to go with Emma, but since he was fluent in multiple languages, he knew it was best to help with the research. Blue also wanted him to assist in gathering chrystal she and the other fairies would create to store Emma’s white light and use them as another way to ward off the vampires.

“Besides, if the vampires do try to attack us, it would help having an expert fighter with us.” Whale had pointed out.”

Before his group headed out, David mentioned to Killian in passing, “If Whale got maimed, nobody would blame you.”

“I heard that, Charming.” Whale growled.

“Don’t care.” David shrugged as he joined his wife and daughter. The former sighed and shook her head and him. The latter grinned at his behavior.

The group made their way through the tunnels, Emma in the front with her hands aglow the entire time.

They were sure that the vampires Dracula had turned were hidden away, sleeping.

Smee had said that Dracula had the power and ability to not sleep for months or years, he also had the ability to put himself into a sleep for centuries. But other vampires needed to hide themselves and sleep when the sun was up.

But no one wanted to take any chances. The plan was to find the sleeping vampires, and then bind them using Emma’s magic, and ropes woven with silver, preventing them from causing any harm to the rest of the town.

Weapons were drawn. Eyes quickly roamed every corner and peered into every shadow.

After walking to where they were sure was the deepest the tunnel could go, they came upon a cave filled with large stones stacked to resemble coffins.

“This must be where they are sleeping.” Leroy said out loud, “Now how are we going to lift these rocks so we can bind these blood suckers?”

“Leroy” Snow admonished, “These are people who are under a curse. It may be different than the other curses we are used to, but they are still victims. And they need our help.”

“Until you can find a way to turn them back, they are monsters who won’t give a second thought to biting our necks and draining every last drop of blood from our bodies. So you’ll excuse me if I’m not feeling too sensitive about their situation right now.”

“Your neck is not one I would be eager to dine out.” A female voice hissed.

Turning in the direction of the sound, they saw a beautiful woman clad in a sheer black gown emerge from a hollow in the wall.

“But your neck,” She continued, looking at David, “I would love to have lips pressed all over it.”

“Not a chance,” Snow shouted, aiming her arrow at the woman.

She seemed to have forgotten all about their intention to capture the vampires without harming them.

The vampire woman hissed in Snow's direction, showing off her fangs and claws. Suddenly, more vampires emerged. The dirt and rocks fell away, revealing the hiding place of the fearsome beings.

There looked to be more there than had been thought to have been turned in Storybrooke.

“I think Dracula brought over some of his vampires from the Land of Horror and the Land of Untold stories.” David observed.

Emma sent out beams of light, “There’s too many. There's no way we’ll be able to bind them. We’ll have to get out of here and search for another way.”

The group retreated, heading back to Granny’s. Emma continued to send beams of light, keeping the vampires at a distance until the group was safely inside.

Everyone was grateful that Emma had put up magic wards to keep the vampires from entering. The vampires hissed and snarled as they tried and failed to push through the invisible barrier.

Several feet behind them, Emma could make out Drake standing and watching.

They had escaped him and his minions, so why did he have a smug look on his face?

Emma’s heart was suddenly gripped by terror. Where was Killian?

They took him by surprise, using a clever ruse.

He had gotten a call on his talking phone. Emma had told him that reception in the tunnels was terrible. So when the other person on the other end of the line sounded muffled, and strange, he assumed that was the reason. Believing the woman was the Lady Snow, he believed her when she said that Emma was in danger. Without a second of thought, he raced to the tunnels.

His thoughts were too preoccupied with Emma’s safety to hear Blue or Belle calling out that it might be a trap.

And Snow hadn’t realized that the attack had been a distraction allowing a vampire to steal her phone.

Too late, he realized his mistake. He was alone in the shadow, making himself easy prey for Dracula and his vampires.

They ambushed him. Held him down as they sank their teeth into him. Killian watched in horror as Dracula emerged from the shadows, sliced a line into his wrist and held it over his face.

Killian’s mouth was held open by the vampires, forcing him to consume the crimson liquid that dripped onto his tongue.

“Those turned by me must do as I say. You will serve me like all of the rest.” The count put the full force of his power in his voice as he gave the command. “Bring the savior, Emma Swan, to me. When you are alone with her, use your new strength and power to subdue her and carry her to me.”

The blood took over Killian’s system. The Vampire Count’s voice took over everything in his mind. His body craved to consume blood. His mind craved to obey his master.

Fear had a vice-like grip on her heart. Emma ran as fast as she could, one had glowing, the other tracking Killian’s location with her cell.

It had been safest for her to go alone. Her intense emotions made her light powerful enough to send any vampire far away and writhing in agony.

It was only when she spotted him, walking through the forest, without a mark on him that she calmed down.

Running to him as quickly as she could, she threw her arms around him and held him tight the moment their bodies collided.

The impact triggered him to take a deep breath.

Emma’s scent was stronger than ever. Sweet and soft, everything that was good in the world. His arms tightened around her and he inhaled more of her fragrance.

Killian took a long inhale of her scent. Emma always smelled like heaven to him. But at the moment, her unique perfume was stronger and especially enticing.

“Oh, Killian,” Emma sighed. “I was so worried. I was afraid Dracula had gotten you.”

Killian was unable to explain that Dracula had gotten to him. He wanted to keep Emma safe. But could not tell her that he was now a threat to her.

Emma messaged her father, letting him know, and asking him to inform the others that she had found Killian, and that he looked unharmed.

After joining back with the others, she helped infuse the chrystals Blue and the other fairies created with her light.

“Keep these crystals around your neck and the vampires will be unable to get near you.” Blue advised.

When Killian hadn’t reached for one, he excused it by saying, “I have Emma with me most of the time. There’s really no need for me to wear one.

It may have been a fact, and the others accepted the excuse, but in the back of everyone’s mind, there was a hint of suspicion.

Though she didn’t say anything, Emma was sure there was something wrong with the man she loved. Killian was too quiet. The last time he acted differently than his full self, he had been controlled by Gold. But she still encouraged everyone to go to their respective homes. No matter what, she knew she had nothing to fear about being alone with Killian.

Dracula stood in the shadows outside of Emma Swan’s home, waiting for his newest slave to deliver her to him.

But as he looked on, he saw no sign that his orders were going to be obeyed.

In fact, the opposite of what he wanted seemed to be happening.

Drake witnessed Killian pin Emma to the wall and trail kisses down her neck. Her mouth opened in an expression of bliss and her legs spread wider, inviting Killian to press closer.

“What are you doing, you fool?” Drake hissed. “You are supposed to deliver her to me.”

But it was clear he had no power over the pirate captain.

With his body pressed to hers, his hands gripping her firmly and his mouth roaming hungrily over her, Emma could feel how much Killian wanted her.

All Killian could think about was taking Emma. Consuming her. He needed her, every part of her. He was sure that he would die if he didn’t have her.

Driven by dark desire, Killian held Emma tightly to him, and sank his fangs into her neck.

Hearing Emma’s intake of breath, Killian found the strength to pull away.

But looking into her eyes, he didn’t see fear. He saw acceptance.

And desire.

Gazing at her, Killian was overwhelmed with the thoughts and feelings he had for Emma Swan. She was truly the most remarkable woman in the world. And the most beautiful. The most tantalizing. Temptation itself.

Especially her neck, with the drops of blood on her flushed skin reminding him of rubies set on ivory satin.

Too much temptation to resist, he lowered his head to consume more of her.

Drake was taken by surprise at the sight before him.

Somehow, his spawn had escaped his influence. What was more, he was feasting on the savior’s blood.

The savior’s behavior was even more shocking. He expected her to cry out in surprise, and pain. Instead, what he heard was a moan, and he saw her eyes flutter.

Was…. Was she enjoying it?

Fingers buried deep in Killian’s hair, Emma held him in place, encouraging him to take what he wanted from her.

Drake roared with a mixture of anger and frustration. It was hard to believe, but the truth was clear; Killian Jones was able to break the hold of the curse.

But the question was, how?

Something powerful bubbled up inside of Killian. Something that had been dormant for centuries.

The blood of a dragon, though polluted and mutated through a man, combined with the blood of a product of true love, awakened an ancient bloodline inside the pirate captain.

#emma swan #killian jones #once upon a time #captain swan #ouat #csff #cssns23 #cssns24 #grimmswanfic

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killiansprincss · 1 year ago

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A Court of Vines and Shadow - for @cssns ‘23

SUMMARY: When Dark One Killian Jones makes Faerie Princess Emma of Misthaven spend 3 moon cycles a year with him to break a curse, Emma never expected to fall in love with him. Now she was walking down the aisle, meant to marry a man she doesn't love because she can never be with the one her heart wants. Or can she?

An ACOTAR Inspired fic written for Captain Swan Supernatural Summer 23. Also on A03

Also it’s July 9th and Speak Now Taylor’s Version just came out I feel like Speak Now is the perfect song to accompany this fic!!

Huge thanks to @cssns for this amazing event which allowed me to bring this to life! And special shoutouts to @hollyethecurious for the amazing art and also to my awesome beta @blonde-of-sherwood 💙💜

White dress. The Spring fallen gardens filled with flowers upon flowers, petals scattered all the way down the aisle and vines spiralling the chairs and arch. Flowers Emma had grown herself with her magic, snowbells and lilies, her mothers favourite flowers, the ones she first learnt how to grow using her magic when it first manifested all those years ago.

Her mother was who she was doing this for. Marrying someone she doesn’t love. Her mother worked so hard to arrange the various meetings with suitors, all noble Fae men, only the best for the Princess of Misthaven. Her mother never got to have a big wedding, she met Emma’s father and fell in love almost as quickly as she fell pregnant. As newly appointed King of Misthaven, they had to elope quickly so the Kingdom would be more accepting of their new Queen, who also happened to be a demi-fae. Her mother, who Emma dearly loved, so much so that she was marrying someone she had had just 3 conversations with all to appease the Kingdom and not go to Civil War because of the man she does love.

Killian. That’s who her mind wandered to. The Prince of Darkness as the rest of the Kingdom saw him. It had taken a while to see past his shadows and darkness, which she now understands was built from the loss of his family and the only people he had ever loved. But she loved him fiercely, anytime they were apart it broke her. Having to say goodbye for the final time was the closest Emma had felt to heartbreak.

So here she was, standing in her white dress, flowers in her hair and bouquet in her hands, where she would meet her father, take his arm and walk down the aisle to marry Lord Walsh. Pushing thoughts of Killian to the back of her mind as she walked towards the aisle to all the smiling faces of her Kingdom. She had to do this, she loved Killlian but they both knew they would never be together in the way they wanted. She just wished she had allowed herself to see past his darkness sooner and they could have had more time together.

“Emma.” An all too familiar voice calls her name from behind the aisle. He uses his power to bind the shadows to him, making him appear in a sort of smoke of darkness as he steps towards his lover. One of his other talents includes stopping time, just for a few minutes, but those few minutes were all he needed.

“Killian. What are you doing here?” As much as she loved him, it pained her to see him here. They had said their goodbyes a few nights prior. Seeing him here, in a white dress about to marry someone else, it wasn’t right.

“I have tried, Emma, truly I have tried to stay away. If it made you happy I would stand by and let you marry someone else, but I can feel your pain all the way in Neverland. It’s causing me pain too, and I think I understand now, it’s why I was so drawn to you the very first time we met, why, even when you hated me you could never really stay away.”

“Killan, you’re not making any sense, what are you saying?” It was painful seeing him, she was hurting, thinking of their time together and how fate was so cruel to not allow them more time.

“You’re my mate.”

His mate. Mates in this world were rare, her parents were never granted that luxury. She hadn’t known of anyone in the last 200 years who found their Mate. So why her? Why now?

Mates were equal in power and status, perfectly matched by the universe. A one true love, a soulmate. She never denied she loved Killian, but being his Mate was a whole other experience. It made sense in a way, they were drawn together at the ball when they first met. He could sense she was powerful, he recognised her untapped powers, something even her parents were unable to do. And she was never scared of him either, she had heard the rumours of course, and knew what he was capable of, but that didn't scare her.

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Emma had been to hundreds of balls in her lifetime, even when she was a little girl, she would sneak into the ones at her palace, and watch everyone dance. They all shared a unique beauty about them, from the way the light reflected on the dresses worn or the chandeliers making rainbows across the walls, they were a thing of otherworldly beauty. But this ball in particular was nothing like those she was used to. It was hosted just outside Misthavens borders, an old castle known to be taken up residence by a Fae many years ago known as “The Dark One”. Rumours began to spiral that the Dark One was back. It had been years since he had been seen and random killings had stopped, but who knew. The invitations went to all the noble folk in Misthaven and surrounding kingdoms and the signature was empty, leaving more curious minds. There were many debates surrounding whether they should go or not, but the Royal Family of Misthaven had to attend to keep peace.

As she grew older the balls became a chance for her parents to find her a suitor to marry, she was now 21 and it was considered uncouth for the Crown Princess to be unmarried, even by Fae standards. So in an effort to avoid dancing with a Duke, she would practise her magic. Every Fae was gifted a power linked to the four elements, and Emma had inherited Earth from her mother. At times she thought it was a boring element to have, her younger brother Leo had water, which was useful for everyday life as well as pulling pranks (to which she was victim of lately). But as she got older she learnt to appreciate it, she enjoyed seeing what she could make grow, especially in situations like right now.

There would always be potted plants, pretty flowers surrounding the tables, she breathed into her powers and with a single touch could double the petals or even change their colours. Sometimes she would paint the pink flowers blue, or the white ones black just to test what she could do. Of course, her mother didn’t approve of using it for this. She was also gifted with the power of earth, but she preferred to make things grow or inject life back into a sunken plant, rather than mess with existing life.

“Not enjoying the festivities I see?” A voice from behind Emma startles her, she didn’t recognise him, dark hair and piercing blue eyes. Dressed in an all black leather suit, not the typical style the men wore. His pointed ears stick out from his dark hair, Emma had always felt self conscious of her ears, so made an effort to hide them, but this man, whoever he was, was the most beautiful man she’d ever laid eyes on.

“I come for the faerie wine and food only I’m afraid.” She tells him with a playful smile.

“Well if you’re here for the wine why aren’t you dancing? Most people get drunk off a few sips then don’t leave the dance floor all night.”

She leans in close, “I’m not like most women.” What was the harm in flirting, he was gorgeous and her parents would never approve which made him all the more exciting.

He holds out his hand to her, “Dance with me, I insist.”

Dancing with a handsome stranger was not how Emma expected the night to go, but he was a great partner, unlike some of the suitors her mother had forced upon her in the past. He led her around the room with grace and it was as though they flew through the dancefloor together, no stepping on toes and he even spun her around a couple times, feeling the wine go to her head a little more. “You’re really good at this.”

“There’s just one rule, pick a partner who knows what he’s doing.” He whispers into her ear as he dips her. “You’re very powerful, you know Emma.” He tells her as she comes up.

“How do you know my name?” Sure she was the Princess, and most people recognise her at these things, but it was strange the way he said it so casually.

“I know a lot of things Emma.” He whispers, his breath close to her neck, making Emma feel a sense of arousal. A moment later the mystery man turned into shadow and darkness, disappearing from her hold and reappearing out of shadows at the top of the staircase.

“Welcome to my lovely guests. I guess it’s time I introduce myself?”

All eyes were on the mystery man now, they all saw his shadow power. That wasn’t one of the four elements, this was some other worldly magic. Then, for Emma at least, it clicks. The charming lustful energy coming from him, his ability to know things he shouldn’t, and his shadow and darkness powers. He was the Dark One.

That should have made her terrified, but for some reason, it didn’t scare her. Who was he?

“My name is Killian Jones. But I believe your people have a few different names for me, Dark One, Wronged Fae, Prince of Darkness is a personal favourite-though I bore no royal blood or status.”

_____________

And that’s where it began, he said he held this ball because he was supposedly cursed and needed someone with light magic to resolve it. Not just any light magic though, a very specific kind. And of all the Fae in the land, he decided Emma, after one conversation and dance that she was the Fae he was looking for, only she could break the curse.

“All I request are 3 moon cycles with her every year until I decide otherwise, or my curse is broken, whichever comes first.” This was his deal, his bargain. As the Dark One, you would be a fool to refuse or dispute a bargain.

Her parents were outraged, and tried everything in their power to stop them. They were a royal family, if he were anyone else maybe that would have been enough, but as the Dark One, he bore no allegiance to royalty. So for 3 moon cycles, she was to live with him, in his castle, doing who knows what.

____

The first moon cycle was absurd, The Dark One didn’t mention a single thing about his supposed curse. He made her practise her magic every single day. Barely spoke to her. Her main source of contact was with one of the servants, Belle. She would show her to her room, which wasn’t a prison or a dungeon like she was expecting, but it had lush carpets. velvet curtains and the most gorgeous and comfortable king size bed in the centre of the room. She would also take her down to the grand dining room where she was to eat all meals. The food was exquisite, the spices used were unlike anything she’d eaten before, it made Misthavens cooks look like a child in the kitchen.

There was no sign of him for the first couple of days, he left Belle with a page of instructions for Emma to get on with while she was here. The only thing on the list:

Read: The Complete Earth Elemental Magic Volume I

Read about her magic. That was the only thing she would do all day. For the first two moon cycles this is all she does, she sees him in passing, at mealtimes mainly. He is pleasant and they make small talk.

When she arrives home, her parents pounce on her, needing to know everything. What she witnessed, who she spoke to and if he hurt her in any way. They were terrified, and it made Emma realise she wasn’t afraid of him the way others were.

“We have suitors lined up.” Her mother would tell her, desperate to get her married off in the strange fear the Dark One would whisk Emma away to be his bride before she could marry a noble born. She would play along and speak to the princes and lords her parents picked out for her. She tried, really tried to find something good in any of them, but her mind would wander back to the blue eyes and dark haired villain she would be seeing again very soon.

The next moon cycle comes along and her task is to again, read the magic book which she was now on volume III of. Enough was enough, she needed to know her place and what exactly he intended to do with her.

“I have read these volumes cover to cover. If I have to learn about the different ways a flower can be grown I think I will die of boredom. You mentioned a curse that first night. Tell me everything and I can look in those stupid books for something that might actually help.”

He smiles at her as she rambles on about being a useful Fae and powerful if he lets her see. He admired her courage and her passion. “Very well Emma.” The way he says her name makes Emma feel something inside her that she’s not sure is good or bad.

“Contrary to popular belief about the Dark One, I did not choose this power willingly. It was forced upon me by a former Dark One. You see, only one can exist at a moment in time, and the only way to steal the power is to steal the life that holds such power.” He then goes on to explain how many years ago, his brother’s wife had fallen sick from her pregnancy and they were not sure if the baby would survive, the three of them searched for a cure around different lands, different royal families, they had to find something to save her but had no such luck. “One night, we had grown tired and stopped to find shelter for the night, when Elsa, my brother's wife began to bleed, she was losing the baby. Liam cried out and an old man came to our aid, asked if we would do anything to help to which I naively responded yes to. He kills them both using a type of magic I didn’t know existed.’ He can barely get through his story without stopping every few moments, and it's clear he still has a heart. “He then tells me if I take the dagger and stab him in the heart, they will be revived and the baby safe.”

“He forced you to kill him so he would be free of his curse, and in turn it then cursed you?”

“Aye love. That night has haunted me for nearly 200 years, I was desperate and if I could go back and change things I would. I’ve been trying to figure out a way to free myself that doesn’t involve trickery. I also do not wish to burden another innocent life with this curse.” He then takes Emma’s hand and looks into her eyes, “That is where you come in, Emma Darling. I saw a seer and she shared with me a vision. A golden haired demi-fae with an earth element bearing an unyielding amount of light magic has the power to free me without hurting either party.”

“And of all the demi-fae with an earth element, you believe it's me because?”

“That’s why I held the ball. I wanted to see who I was drawn to, and as soon as I met you Emma, it was clear you were the one. You are special” The way he looked at her as she said this, made her feel warm inside. For a split second Emma also thought he was going to kiss her, and that if he did, she would let him.

That was the changing point. The more time they spent together going over her magic the more confident she felt. She learnt more things about her magic that she had known were possible. She could end life as quickly as she could revive it, well, the life of a flower anyway. She could drain the life from a lily and then when it was wilting, press life back into it. Emma guessed the more she practised this, maybe she would drain the darkness from Killian.

“Have you ever experimented with other elements, Emma Darling?” He asks one day, it was the last day of the moon cycle and she was to return home. She hadn’t realised how much she would miss his company.

“I was only gifted with the earth element, my mother shares it too. My brother inherited water from my father.” She explains, “I haven’t heard of any Fae who were gifted more than one element, wouldn’t that disrupt the power balance?”

She would also miss the way he would sit there and smile at her when she rambled, he really wasn't as bad as people said he was. They didn’t know him the way she did. “Emma, you’re special. You hold the element of earth, well all elements are connected to the earth, are they not? Why don’t you try to conjure fire?”

All Fae were granted one element, fire, air, earth or water, it was unheard of for someone to hold a double or even triple elemental magic, every scripture and teacher would tell you too much power would disrupt the power balance of the universe, and everyone would suffer. But then again if she were truly the Fae in his prophecy, she was already disrupting the power of the universe.

“I wouldn’t know where to start, I don’t know anyone with that power and even if I did I-.” He was already moving towards her before she could finish her train of thought.

“All power lives inside you Emma.” He stands behind her and places his hand on her shoulders, moving down to her abdomen, “you can feel it inside you, reach deep inside and find that extra source of power.” Emma had to focus on keeping her breathing normal, he was touching her and she was feeling very strange things at the moment. Still, she does as he instructs, she feels where she knows her earth power lies, she taps into it daily. But then she tries to focus on where that power was, and if she could feel anything else. At first she could only feel her earth, but then she felt something different, she wasn’t sure what it was but it was similar to the way her earth felt.

“That's it, love.” Killian says, hand still resting on her abdomen, “hone in on that. And think of something that makes you angry, feel the fire before you conjure it.”

Pushing the way his husky breath felt on her neck aside, she thought of her mother and how she orchestrated all these suitors that were supposedly so ‘perfect’ for her, how she never listened to what she wanted and how angry she felt when she would come home from her studies to see a Prince or a Duke in her sitting room.

“Open your eyes Emma.”

Fire. A small flame coming from her palm was the sight Emma was greeted with when she opened her eyes. It didn’t burn for very long once she realised what she had done and couldn’t figure out how to control it. But she did that.

“I conjured fire.” She says with a mix of shock and excitement plastering her face.

“I told you you were powerful Emma.”

He was still standing behind her, so she turns to see him grinning at her and his gaze fixed on her, in awe of her. They’re both silent for a moment, clearly having the same internal battle inside their head. Their heads moved closer and closer until their lips finally met and Emma felt her magic on fire. Every sense was heightened with this kiss, a merge of power and lust building up from their shared time together. Killian deepens the kiss as his hand settles on her cheek while Emma’s hands find his hair. She’s being pushed up against the wall after a while, and Emma leans her head back and moans as Killian pressees kisses onto her neck and then back to her lips.

Their time together was never the same after that. Being apart from one another became harder. Every time Emma would practise her newfound powers, her thoughts would wander back to Killian and how he made her feel.

When they were together, they were rarely apart. She possessed all four elements, and took the time to learn and explore what she could do with them. Of course she had to keep this quiet when she was away from Neverland and from Killian. Her family and her court would be wary of her newfound powers, likely brand her as dark as her ‘captor’ as they referred to Killian.

“I wish you would stop calling him that, he has a name.” She finally snaps back at her mother upon her return after listening to her rattling her newest ideas on how to get out of the contract.

“He forces you to be away from your family for a whole moon cycle. He is darkening your mind with his power if you do not see what is wrong with that my sweet child.”

That taught her to keep her mouth shut. They didn’t understand. Yes, as part of a bargain she was to spend time with him, but she looked forward to those moon cycles, he understood her, listened to her, she felt he was the only person she could be herself around. Worst of it was, she was falling in love with him. No, she was in love with him. And she had an inkling that he felt the same.

The next time she comes home, yet again there is a suitor sitting in her living room. She didn’t know who this one was and frankly, she didn’t care.

“Emma. I’m glad to see you’re home in one piece.” Her mother says, and Emma rolls her eyes, pretending she wasn’t practically seething that comment. She would never understand Killian or how she felt safe with him.

“Hello mother. Who is our guest?” She asks with a fake smile, knowing full well this was another suitor she was not interested in.

The suitor offers out his hand and bows, “Lord Walsh of Oz. it is a pleasure to finally meet you, your highness.”

He was an older man, older than she was, which was not uncommon for suitors as they had to be to have a title. He was average height, nothing particularly interesting about him was jumping out at her. Her mother clearly chose this one from the same place as all the others, he was polite and overly grateful to the Queen for inviting him. They would all sip on their tea whilst Emma made polite conversation with them and they would express their interest for children and make an awful comment about being the more powerful Fae and Emma would thank them for their time as she busied herself with something else to get away. She wondered how long this one would take to get rid of.

“Lord Walsh is to be your husband. We have been setting arrangements whilst you were being held hostage.” She rolls her eyes at the hostage comment and was about to argue, until it hits what she just said.

“I’m sorry, we’re to be married when?” This was a new low, even for her mother. “Mother, may I speak with you in private?”

“Excuse us.” Snow tells Walsh as she guides her daughter into the drawing room.

“I can’t believe this. I’m away for one moon cycle and you have me married off already? I keep telling you, I want to marry for love.” She didn’t know what to feel right now, angry yes, upset yes, and also confused, why now, when the topic of suitors had never felt imminent.

“Emma, every day you spend with the Dark One is a day closer to us never seeing you again.” She tells her as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

“If this is still about him corrupting my mind, you have to know I’m still the same person as I was before the bargain.” As the Crown Princess, Emma didn’t have many choices in terms of clothing, free speech or political opinion, but she deserved the freedom to choose and to marry whoever she liked.

Her mother touched her cheek, a way she did when Emma was younger. “Emma, the fact you don’t see it worries me. This is for the best. If we send a message you’re getting married, you can convince him to call off the bargain. This is a good thing Emma, things will go back to the way they were.”

She may have spent more moon cycles with the Dark One than planned, but she sure as hell was not dark herself, Killian couldn’t corrupt her when he was only trying to heal. She was different, she admits that, but it was a good different. She was powerful, confident in her abilities and her magic. Something that only came from being with Killian.

But she was the princess. Her parents, the King and Queen. She could fight with them about many things, but this was orchestrated by them. She could try to refuse this marriage, but she would need a valid reason, another prince or duke to replace Lord Walsh. It was a horrifying thought, but she didn’t have a choice. She was going to have to marry him.

What she wanted was to run away with Killian. She wanted to free him of his curse, help him heal. She did not want to be bound to him for a moon cycle at a time, she wished to spend as much time as she wished. But if she did that then her parents would come looking, they would send armies to search for her, it would cost the kingdom more money than they have. Running away would cause a civil war.

All because she fell in love with the wrong Fae.

________________________________________

“I know you feel it too. Please Emma, don’t deny it.” He pleads, keeping the shadows clouding around them for a little while longer.

“I don’t deny it. I’m just in shock.” She admits. Having a mate in this world was rare, but those who were lucky enough to be granted one would be damned for all eternity if they chose to reject their mate. She had grown up with a legend of a male who loved another for years before meeting his mate, they chose to be apart and he died of heartache. She isn’t sure how much of that was true, but there was a reason they were chosen to be mates by the universe. She couldn’t marry Lord Walsh, no matter how hard her mother worked, marrying someone she had no love for knowing her mate, her true love was just out of reach would be too painful a life to lead. “Killlian, if we’re doing this, it has to be right, we have to follow the rules. If I run away now, it will only start a war.”

Killian nods in understanding, “We do this the right way. I claim you in front of everyone, and if you claim me back there is nothing they can do to stop.” He gives her a quick kiss before disbanding the shadows around them and hides from onlookers until it's time.

The crowd are unaware anything happened as she begins her descent down the flowery aisle. She spies her family in the crowd, her mother looking so happy, her brother next to her smiling brightly and her father trying not to cry as she takes his arm. He was meant to be giving her away to Walsh, but he was indirectly handing his daughter over to the Dark One. This was going to break their hearts, but she hoped they would see that Killian made her happy, the life she was choosing for herself was far better than the one her family were choosing for her.

Walsh stands at the end of the aisle by the arch, his family were noble and would prosper from this union, more land and a grander estate. All of that was meaningless though, he didn’t love Emma either, it was his family pushing this marriage as much as it was her own. She was leaving a lot behind, her brother would become Crown Prince, and her mother would likely push a marriage for him too, likely to Princess Alexandra of the Western Kingdom to save the Kingdom from too much heartbreak of a runaway Princess. But it was worth it, the time spent with Killian made her feel alive for the first time in her life, she discovered things about her she didn’t know she could do.

“We are gathered today to witness the marital union between these two people. Lord Walsh of Oz, and Princess Emma of Misthaven.”

Emma spies Killians shadows from just beyond the arch, waiting for the right time.

“If there is any reason why these two should not be married, Speak Now or forever hold your peace.”

Silence from the crowd. Until shadows grow and at the other end of the aisle, Killian transfigures. “I object.”

The crowd begins to stir, chatter arises, some people even scream. “Under what grounds?”

“I have come to claim Emma. As my Mate.”

Shock horror from the crowd once again, she hears her parents cries and pleads not to go through with this, but she had no choice, this was for her own happiness, she was putting herself first for once.

“Do you claim me as I claim you?” He asks, knowing her answer.

“I claim you, Killian Jones, as my mate.”

Neither were sure exactly what would happen when they said those words, legend said mates had to claim one another in words, whether that be in public or in private. Considering mates were rare and neither had met or heard of anyone that had a mate, they were unaware if anything were meant to happen after they had claimed one another, whether it be lighting from the sky or if they would feel it in their hearts.

Neither were prepared for their right arms to suddenly have ink appear and spiral into a tattoo, matching with one another. Confirming their mateship and that they were now bound to one another, there was nothing anyone could do about it.

With a last look of pity and sorrow at her family, she runs into her new mates arms, and they disappear in a cloud of shadow.

Emma was going home.

#captain swan #captain swan fanfic #cs ff #cs fic rec #my writing #cssns23 #captain swan supernatural summer

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teamhook · 1 year ago

Text

The Last Witch Hunter:: CSSNS

Hello. I know I shouldn’t start a new one but I couldn’t stop myself. I hope this will be incentive for the Muse.

Thanks to the @cssns

Thank you to my lovely beta that is a saint @ultraluckycatnd

AO3 FFN

Summary:

Witches are among us. After centuries of conflict, a truce was forged. Only one strict rule, magicks could never be used against humans. Killian Jones is the last witch hunter; he serves The Order of Blazing Sword and Cross and protects humans. Now, though, he needs help from an unlikely ally to put an end to the darkness that is worse than any known threat, and has been lurking in the shadows, threatening to destroy humanity

The fallen tree branches intertwined with the overgrown roots that covered the ground. The humid air made it difficult to breathe. The valiant champions included a widowed Killian, his priest brother, and their father. They were amongst the last line of defense. They had all lost so much already. Wives, fathers, mothers, husbands and children; families torn apart. They were walking into a death trap knowingly as they split away from each other. Each falling prey to traps and illusions created to not only torment their minds but end their lives. The only hope left was to end the Queen Witch’s power and in her death, humanity would find their salvation at whatever the cost. The band of brave men made their way through the ice cold mountains to her lair. The darkness of the forest aided the evil hag and her minions as they killed the men one by one. The screams echoed within the trees. They needed to reach her nest; the Hexen dwelled within the tallest tree in the center. The giant sequoia stood in the middle of the field covered in shadows, the vines bulging from the ground across the path. The perfect abode for those who worshiped the darkness. Light had no place here.

The temperature dropped as the brave man could see his breath in front of him while he struggled to keep his wits and focus on the task at hand. He stepped over his fallen brethren while making his way deeper into the nest. He knew there would be no surviving the quest but failure was not an option.

The ground shook abruptly and grumbled. His attention was drawn to the silhouettes in front of him. One was crouched on the ground, and the other was kneeling in front of the first one. He moved swiftly to get a closer look, and to his dismay, he could now see the witch had her hand inside the chest of a man. It was an older man whose features were enhanced by the flame of the fire surrounding them. It was his father.

"Liam!!" He bellowed for his brother to help as he rushed to save their father.

His father looked at him one last time as life was crushed out of his heart.

The ground trembled again, and it became icier as the sudden snow flurries covered his body. He reached the crone as she stood up to face him with an evil smirk. She moved quickly in front of him, and reached for his heart. He was able to evade her hands with a spin; he swung his iron blade at her as she cackled, mocking him.

Killian finally managed to do the unbelievable and get the upper hand. The witch struggled to stay upright and she shoved her hand inside his chest. "I curse you to eternal life. You will continue to live and see all those around you die. You will be left behind. Forever alone." She squeezed his heart one last time before taking her last breath.

***

His eyes shot open at the violent yawing of the craft. This went beyond turbulence. It was freezing. It was an abnormal storm. He stood up to find the culprit but the flight attendant stopped him. "Sir, you need to go back to your seat," the woman said as she pressed her hand on his hard chest.

Killian could see the interest in her eyes but right now was not the time. "I'm sorry, lass. I need to use the facilities," he said in a low voice while invading her space.

She smiled in return. “You should return to your seat.”

“I promise to do so after I’ve done my business.” He crossed his heart.

She looked around and noticed no one was paying attention to them. “All right, but try to be quick.” She smiled, hoping her leniency will earn her a nice lay over.

Killian walked past the restroom to the small flight attendant station. He grabbed a cup of water and pulled out a pouch from his wallet. It had a couple of small tools including a needle, which he quickly dropped in the water.

The plane jerked violently due to what appeared to be turbulence. The other passengers were beginning to panic as the oxygen masks dropped.

The needle guided him to the source, a redheaded young woman hugging a black bag. Luckily the seat next to her was empty, so Killian sat down. The girl looked up with wide eyes. He smiled and said, "Lass, hand it over." He extended his hand for her to place the bag in. She was about to object then she gasped as she realized his identity and placed the bag on his waiting hand. He opened it and noticed the runes were stuck. "Bloody hell, lass. Why did you think jamming weather controlling runes together was a good idea?" Killian scolded as he sped up his actions; he poured a potion to neutralize and separate the runes using tweezers. “I've been looking for these for a very long time. Lass, these tiny things manipulate the weather. Rain, cold, wind, heat... and you thought it was a good idea to put them together in your bag? Do you know what you get when you mix a thunderstorm with cool, moist air? You almost killed us all. We are lucky you didn't get them wet. You witches have no idea the power you possess." He shook his head in disbelief as he pulled out a case from his jacket pocket and placed each rune inside after covering it carefully with a cloth.

“I know you are the witch hunter. Are you going to kill me?” the girl asked.

“Why would I kill you, lass? I just saved your life,” Killian said. “I have a code.”

“Are you going to turn me in to the witch council? I didn’t do it on purpose. I inherited those from my sister. I swear it was an accident.”

“No need to fret. Enjoy your stay.” He winked at her and stood up, leaving her behind to go back to his seat.

The flight attendant noticed him walking back to his seat while she finished providing some water to the passengers to help calm them down.

"Excuse me sir, I thought I told you to go to your seat?" the flight attendant said, annoyed.

"I'm sorry, love, but a young lass was in distress. I just wanted to make sure she wasn't anymore. My name is Killian Jones, I much prefer being called that.

How about I buy you a drink to make up for my lack of listening skills?" he said with a sexy raised eyebrow.

The woman tried to play it as if she wasn't tempted but the blushed cheeks gave her away. "Well, Killian, I suppose that would be all right."

"We can meet at baggage claim and set sail from there," he said as he raised her hand to his lips.

Witches are among us

Descendants from an ancient race called Hexen

Their magick diluted, half-forgotten but dangerously powerful

After centuries of conflict, a truce was forged

Witches would live freely if they followed one strict rule, magicks could never be used against humans

A truce is a fragile thing…

There are those who long for the dark days of the Witch Queen, Gothel.

It is those whom Killian deals with.

For centuries, he has

served The Order of Blazing Sword and Cross.

I serve The Order in a different manner.

I write Killian's history.

I am his handler, his confessor, and his friend.Together we have kept watch and kept the peace.

I’m Dolan the 36th, Father Nemo

Father Nemo arrived at Killian’s place to take the report from the most recent mission.

The doorman smiled at the older man. “Father Nemo. I’m sorry, but he is in a meeting. Could you please take a seat while you wait?”

The elevator opened and a woman exited wearing a flight attendant uniform.

“I think the meeting is over, my boy,” Father Nemo said as he rose from his seat to walk to the elevator.

Killian opened his door with a wide satisfied smile on his face. "Hello, old friend."

Father Nemo rolled his eyes. "You know you are older than me."

Killian shrugged. "However, as you can see, I've maintained my youthful glow."

"That doesn't explain why you have no sense of time," Father Nemo scolded him.

Killian rolled his eyes fondly.

Father Nemo smiled at the man in front of him. Killian was physically younger, but was actually much older than him. However, time stands still for no one. We should get to business , he thought as he pulled out his journal and pen from his bag to prepare for the details. "I assume the mission was a success and you were able to recover the weather runes without incident?"

"Aye, they are safely put away in the vault," Killian replied. "Old man, really? You get upset at my teasing but I believe you secretly enjoy it. That is why you are not willing to use any of the tech I gift you with. Where's the iPad I gave you?"

"If you must know, I regifted it. Besides, you will not need to worry after my retirement." Dolan the 36th, Father Nemo reaffirmed his decision it was time to move on.

"Oh, you were serious. I thought you would reconsider but since you are set in retiring, I got you a small token." Killian smiled as he handed a box to his old friend.

"You didn't have to do this." Father Nemo grabbed the box and opened it to find a very rare, expensive Waterman 402 pen. "Oh my. I thought you didn't get sentimental. This is lovely but truly too expensive."

"We've had a good run. We took out many dangerous covens. I finally got used to you and now you want to find greener pastures."

"I'm going to miss you."

"You know you can still keep the pen if you reconsider," Killian said with a hopeful smile.

"I'm leaving you in modern hands. Besides, the vow was not til death but to face it at your side."

"You do know there are only two Dolan's advice I have ever listened to: my brother Liam, the first Dolan, and you."

"Fine company I'm in but wait a minute, you ignored it all the time!" Nemo said irritated.

"Perhaps, but I always listened."

"Killian, what if you could retire too? What would you do?"

"Ah, but I can't."

"Just humor me."

"I'm not blind to the importance of my job. Every day I wake up, the world is safe."

"I wish you could live. Truly. You are missing the best part. The one that goes beyond ships passing in the night. Flight attendants or whoever you found for the evening."

"There's nothing wrong with a dalliance."

"You need to find someone to trust and share your life with."

"Old man, let's finish this then."

After they finished the report they parted ways. Dolan the 36th, Father Nemo left to finalize his report and hand over the file on Killian Jones to his replacement, Dolan the 37th, Father Gideon.

Father Nemo's words of advice for the young Father Gideon were to serve with distinction and to remember that Killian was more than a weapon as the elders of The Flaming Sword and Cross loved to refer to him as. He was beyond his success rate or the numbers of witches in detention or the ones that paid the ultimate price for breaking the law.

The next day, Killian's phone rang. "Hello?"

"Mr. Jones, this is Dolan the 37th, Father Gideon. I'm sorry to inform you that Dolan the 36th, Father Nemo passed away in his sleep peacefully. The ceremony will be tomorrow."

Killian was alone now. His friend was gone and it served as a reminder to not allow anyone else to enter his heart.

The unexpected death of his old friend had reopened the scars left behind by the loss of his wife Milah, their young daughter Alice, his father Brennan, and brother Liam months later. Killian had spent years protecting his heart and focusing on the job, claiming he had a right to seek vengeance for all the world had lost. Now he was grieving for the last person he allowed himself to care for. He truly would die alone. The Order hadn't even given a proper burial to his friend as they now pledged the new Dolan. Killian couldn't stomach the ceremony and stepped out. He sat down on a bench and contemplated his life.

The young Dolan the 37th sat next to him.

Killian's eyes stayed focused on an object as he spoke. "Do you see that cornerstone?"

Dolan, the 37th, nodded. "Yes, Sir. I do. I'm-"

Killian interrupted him. "I watched them lay it in when all that was there was a cornfield. That was long ago. Everything changes, only I remain." Killian finally faced the young man.

"Sir, I'm sorry for your loss. I wanted to pledge my life and loyalty to you. Please, call me Gideon."

"Father Gideon, there are levels of evil everywhere. However, I've never seen people get old, retire, and die on the same day."

"Sir, I know this isn't the proper time but I need to sort you out with a new identity and all that comes with it." Father Gideon stated as he pulled an envelope from the briefcase.

Killian rolled his eyes. "I understand all of you Dolans are fierce rule followers but I will be clear. First, I don't need a new identity. Second, there are more pressing matters. Something doesn't add up. You were the last one to see Father Nemo. I need to go to his place." Killian stood and walked towards his black super sport 1970 Chevrolet Chevelle.

At least it's not red, Father Gideon muttered as he opened the car door and slipped in. "Sir, I understand, but a low profile is important to keep. As for Father Nemo, what are you thinking?

"I'll know when I see it." With that he started the car and drove to Nemo's home.

They entered and Killian looked around. "How do you know when there's magic in the vicinity? It comes from four elements; fire, water, earth, and air. The correct alchemical triggers will reveal its presence." Killian informed Father Gideon as he continued his inspection. "It appears there was no magic here. However, if the window hasn't been opened, how did this get in here?"

Gideon looked at the dead flies on the floor.

"One means nothing. Two perhaps a coincidence but three, that means trouble. He was killed by witches."

Killian got his confirmation once the glamor spell was lifted. "This is a declaration of war."

@allons-y-to-hogwarts-713 @caught-in-the-filter @andiirivera @anothersworld @apiratewhopines @artistic-writer @batana54 @beckettj @bethacaciakay @bixisarusher @branlovestowrite @brooke-to-broch @captainodonoghue @carpedzem @chasedancer17 @cocohook38 @courtorderedcake @darkcolinodonorgasm @deckerstarblanche @demisexualemmaswan @djlbg @donteattheappleshook @dovelyheart @elizabeethan @gingerchangeling @gingerpoliglot @holdingoutforapiratehero @hollyethecurious @hookedonapirate @hookedonaswanprincess @hookedonhiddles @ilovemesomekillianjones @imlaxdris71 @itsfabianadocarmo @jarienn972 @jennjenn615 @jonesfandomfanatic @jrob64 @justanother-unluckysoul @k-leemac @karlyfr13s @kday426 @killian-will-do @klynn-stormz @kmomof4 @kwistowee @kymbersmith-90 @laschatzi @lassluna @let-it-raines @lfh1226-linda @lonelyspectator12 @mariakov81 @motherkatereloyshipper @officerrogers @ohmakemeahercules @onceratheart18 @pirateherokillian @purplehawkcaptain @resident-of-storybrooke @revanmeetra87 @sailtoafarawayland @sals86 @scribomaniac @searchingwardrobes @seriouslyhooked @shardminds @shireness-says @snowbellewells @sotangledupinit @spacekrulesbians @spartanguard @stahlop @superchocovian @swanslieutenant @tehgreeneyes @the-darkdragonfly @thejollyroger-writer @thepirateandhisson @therealstartraveller776 @thislassishooked @thisonesatellite @tiganasummertree @tomeandflickcorner @ultraluckycatnd @veryverynotgoodwrites @wefoundloveunderthelight @wellhellotragic @whimsicallyenchantedrose @winterbaby89 @winterbythesea @xarandomdreamx @xsajx @zaharadessert @myfearless-love @cosette141 @grimmswan @fleurdepetite @hookmecaptain @once-upon-a-pirate-ship @undercaffinatednightmare @4getfulimaginator2022 @nachocheese-itsmycheese

#Captain Swan #cs ff au #cssns23

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snowbellewells · 9 months ago

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CSSNS23 Fic Update: "Carolina Moon" Chapter Four

I am more than a little embarrassed and sorry about how long it has taken me to update this story. It was never my intention to keep you waiting so long. However, here at long last is an update, and I hope to have another one to you this week yet - and this to be more regular (at least close to weekly) in the future. Thank you THANK YOU to those who have been patient and stayed interested in this story. I hope you will enjoy this new chapter!

Thank you as ever to the @cssns for running such a wonderful event that I have always been thrilled to be part of. And thank you for the gorgeous fic cover art to @eastwesthomeisbest and to @xarandomdreamx for the massively encouraging beta reading and thoughtful comments.

Can be read from the beginning HERE on Tumblr or HERE on AO3

Chapter Four: No Use Running Anymore

Killian Jones felt his own breath rasping frighteningly in his lungs, barely forcing its way raggedly through his chest as he watched Emma shuddering in his loose embrace, her whole body trembling and the gaze in her eyes glassy and faraway. It scared him, the intensity of the power which had taken her over - beyond either of their control - and he wasn’t sure what to do to help her. He could keep her from collapsing to the ground and lying there boneless in the dark, from hitting her head or flailing her arms, but Killian was at a loss as to how he might reach her wherever she had retreated to in her mind.

Finally, drawing in a sharp gasp for oxygen, Emma’s lungs seemed to fill, and she began to breathe more normally, her eyes were on her trembling hands and she edged far enough away that there was some distance between them, as if embarrassed at having leaned on him and letting him witness her what she’d just gone through. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, and it was clear she still felt uncertain and off balance; the weak tremor still running through her limbs as the after effects were visibly obvious. And yet it was the haunted pain clouding her eyes that held him captive, unable to blink, move, or even look away - though he could sense she would like him to do so. Emma might be able to read most of the folks around her and think to hide her own thoughts and feelings, but to him she was an all-too-open book.

At least somewhat assured that she was herself again, well on the way to recovering her breath and her composure, Killian’s mind returned to her staggering revelation without any conscious effort on his part. “Emma… what you said… about Rose’s killer? What did you mean?” he questioned gingerly. His dark brows lowered over his eyes intently, studying her with a concerned but necessary focus. “You said she wasn’t the only one.”

Looking up to meet his searching gaze, Killian could see Emma’s reluctance, and he hated himself for pressing her, even as he knew she needed him to do so. Still, the film of tears he saw in her green eyes and the way one spilled over the lower lid and trailed down her cheek, was almost his undoing; he bit back words rescinding the question with all the force he could muster. This was important, painful or not. Though he knew Emma had to recover, and that she had lived with her abilities - her “sight” - being pushed aside, ignored, belittled, even persecuted, all her life, there was a reason she could see the things she did. Her supernatural knowledge could help as well as hurt. He knew she had used it for just such a purpose in the years she had been gone. He might not have found the right time to tell her yet, but he had followed her successes in Boston, devouring each news story of the “psychic” - he could just see her huff of disbelieving annoyance at the catch-all term too - who could find missing people when all others had lost hope. He had cherished each article of a child found, holding every tidbit of praise for her close to his chest. He didn’t know how things had fallen apart in Boston, or what exactly had brought Emma back to Storybrooke, but he mourned the scars of youth that still lingered in her bearing. A part of him had never stopped hoping she might one day return, but he would never have wished for her to remain so alone and so haunted.

Her trembling fingers caught at his suddenly, as he moved to brush her hair from her flushed cheek, and she held on tight, needing his steadiness like a lifeline in a howling gale. Those wide, emerald orbs were searching his as if not sure what to make of his question. “W-what did you just ask me?” she murmured, voice fragile as a butterfly’s wing on the still night air amidst the crickets chirping and bullfrogs calling from ponds hidden in the trees at their backs.

Was she really so used to being doubted? After so many times she had saved lives, provided answers no one else could, and proven herself over and over, was it still that much of a shock to be taken seriously? Killian was ready to follow her lead, to charge into action at her back, once she had her bearings again and he was sure she would be alright.

“You aren’t going to ask how I know? Where the pictures come from? If - If I’m sure they’re real?”

He shook his head gently, never breaking eye contact with her for a second. This was important, and he needed her to see he meant every word. “Of course not, Lass,” he finally answered, words calm but sure. “I’ve known you all my life and have never known you to lie - or to be wrong in the visions you’ve seen… no matter how they might hurt.”

Looking down at their joined hands, their fingers now intertwined as he held onto her just as tightly. “No questions asked?” she mumbled dazedly, as though encouraging herself to take him at his word. “Really? Just like that?” And when she raised her face to meet his eyes again, there were still the shining tracks of tears on her cheeks, but they were no longer falling; she had blinked them away and a look of willful determination was taking over her features. “Why?” was all she whispered then, staring at him so open and raw it seemed as if she wanted to drink in his every word. “Why would you do that?”

Killian brought their joined hands up to his lips, bowing his dark head slightly over them as he hardly dared breathe, pausing to make sure she wouldn’t pull away before pressing the softest pursing of his lips to her knuckles and holding them there, breathing warmth against her skin. “Because, Emma, as I said… I know you. Love and trust, even basic kindness, have been all too rare in your life. People have always treated you a certain way - the wrong way - doubting you, hurting you, using you until they don’t need you anymore, and then throwing you away.” He wet his lips, trying to gather his nerve and praying he wasn’t about to say more than he should - or that he hadn’t done so already - then plunged on. “I aim to be different. I’m right here with you for the long haul, if you’ll have me.”

For a moment, Emma seemed frozen, stunned beyond response, but she finally shook her head wonderingly and offered him a tremulous smile, still clutching his hand but moving to stand, which he did as well, then helped her up beside him. “How did you…?” she finally asked breathily.

A crooked smile pulled at one corner of his mouth as Killian sighed, gingerly moving to tuck her hand in the crook of his elbow and guide her back toward his truck, still idling on the rough shoulder of the quiet country road. “I know that lost look in your eyes all too well,” he explained as best he could while he helped her with the high step up into the cab. “Our circumstances may be different, but the feeling is the same. We’ve both been lost for too long.”

He closed the door with those words, but Emma caught at his sleeve through the open window, keeping him in place before he could round the front of the vehicle. “Thank you,” she whispered - only two small words, but full of meaning. She would take the support, the belief in her, he was offering. She had been fully prepared for him to back away, to be too discomforted by what the visions did to her for him to stick around. She’d experienced more people like that in her life than she could count or even remember. But instead, Killian had witnessed the flashes of horror and darkness sweep over her, seen how much it took out of her and he was still standing right there looking at her the same way he always had. Maybe she shouldn’t have been so surprised. Rose had been the only person who truly seemed able to understand the magnitude of her gift and curse and was always there trying to help in any way she could. It made a poetic sort of sense that her brother might do the same.

“We have to look into this, Killian. If Rose w- wasn’t the only one…” she stumbled at the thought of her friend’s pale, bruise-mottled limbs against the muddy ground that morning so long ago, swallowing down the nausea in heaving gulps. “If her killer’s kept on all this time… I should have known. I should have done something…”

Tremors seized her once again until Killian pulled her into his chest, holding her tight until she steadied, and then pulling back just enough to firmly cradle her cheeks in both hands, pulling her focus back before she could sink into the void grappling to pull her under. “Hey, no, none of that,” he coaxed firmly, holding her steady until she nodded her assent. His own heart was beating against the confines of his chest, but he would calm it later; Emma needed his certainty. “We’ll figure it out, Swan. I promise you that. If you’ve seen there are others we need to find, Love, then that is exactly what we’ll do.”

*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*

Early evening dusk had come to rest lightly on the rumpled covers, smushed pillows, and his clothes tossed haphazardly all around the room when Dr. Graham Hunter blinked back into awareness near the dinner hour. Groggily, he berated himself for dozing off so early while attempting to piece together why he had stripped stark naked and went to bed before even having any supper. Then, his brain caught up with him, and he sighed, Ruby’s arrival in his office downstairs, her seduction and his weakness in falling for it once again, all coming back to him in a rush. He scrubbed a tired hand down his face and felt the weight of realization pressing heavily on his shoulders - even before he turned to look at the pillow beside him and his hand reached out for her to find empty space.

He was a fool. When it came to Ruby, he always had been, Graham admitted to himself as he rolled over with a frustrated curse, allowing himself a whiff of her decadent camelia perfume and honeyed musk on the pillow before flinging it away with a growl. How he fell into this pattern with her - crawling to her on his knees when she crooked her finger or batted an eye his way, and then waking up alone and picking up the pieces of his shattered dignity when she vanished (and she always did) - he wasn’t quite sure. He had fallen for it years ago, and yet somehow, despite knowing better, he was still such a lovesick pup over her that he settled for the scraps she offered him every time.

A noise downstairs caught his attention suddenly, breaking into the well-known litany of shame and self-recrimination. Maybe her trying to slip out unnoticed had been what woke him from his doze. Without pausing to think or second guess, Graham vaulted out of bed, pulled on the track pants he’d draped over the chair in the corner after his morning run, and pounded down the stairs, intending to catch Ruby before she made her quick exit. Fueled by angry hurt and adrenaline, he could only think she wasn’t going to get off quite so easily this time.

He caught her with her fingers grasping the door handle, her wicked heels held tightly in her other hand; her intentions blatantly clear. At his strangled call of her name - sounding a far sight more desperate than he’d meant for it to - she whipped around with a guilty, wide-eyed look painted across her face as she stared back at him over her shoulder. Neither of them moved or spoke for several long moments; Graham because he was practically vibrating with desperation, hurt, and anger in equal measure, Ruby seemingly waiting to see what he would do.

‘Or figuring out if she could sweet talk her way back into his good graces,’ his more realistic inner voice chided. ‘Had he still not learned how ridiculous he was to hope for anything else from her?’ Trying to steel his heart against the natural inclination to charm and cajole her back upstairs, to try to get her to stay while he made supper and to spend the evening together - just spend time with him out of bed, actually allow him to get to know her, or even show that she could want something more from him than the occasional physical thrill he could provide.

Before he could find a way to put any of this into words, Ruby tilted her head slightly, a guarded and slightly embarrassed half smile pressing a sweet little dimple into her cheek as she prepared to wheedle her way out of the awkward spot, just as he had predicted.

“Hey there, Handsome,” she crooned, the smile growing when he didn’t interrupt, clearly gaining confidence in her comfortable and familiar ploy. She let her graceful fingers release the door, her hand falling back to her side as she took a step closer to him. “Sorry if I woke you. I wanted to let you rest, even though I got a call and had to head out. No reason you shouldn’t be able to enjoy a break. You work hard enough, you’ve definitely earned it.”

Damn her for knowing exactly what she was doing to him! Graham swallowed hard as Ruby stood before him coyly biting her lower lip and staring up at him through her lashes innocently. One brightly lacquered red nail traced up along his bare chest between his pecs, and he struggled not to flinch, not to let the way his body immediately reacted to her touch be known.

But, of course, she did know what a word, a look, the slightest caress of hers could do to him. He had allowed her to play him like a fiddle too many times before for her to be convinced now by feigned indifference. Graham clenched his fists, closing his eyes for a moment and praying for strength, before catching her wrist and removing her hand from his chest, holding her gaze determinedly as a muscle in his jaw flexed with his aggravation and the amount of restraint it took not to pull her into his arms and give into her playful touch, pretend to buy the poor excuses and give into her charms. He didn’t want to force the coming confrontation; he knew it was going to hurt and likely wouldn’t end in any way he would hope for. Yet, he couldn’t go on blindly like this either - not anymore. He could only hope, deep down somewhere, as he barely allowed himself to wish in his quietest, most raw moments, that she needed more too, that she did care for him more than she wanted to admit. Maybe - just maybe - if he forced her into honesty, she might grasp it and open herself up rather than let him go.

“Please,” he managed to choke out, his voice rasping, but steadier than he had feared it might sound. “Just stop with the excuses,” he pressed on, hating the way her eyes clouded with hurt, those ridiculously big, liquid brown eyes he usually couldn’t deny a thing. “We both know there was no phone call. You just wanted to get out of here before I woke up and tried to get you to stay, to really be here with me longer than it takes for a romp and to scratch your itch. I’ve done a poor job of showing it,” he hurried on, seeing she was about to interrupt, “but I’m not a puppy to trail along behind you and be at your beck and call. You know how I feel about you, Ruby; I’ve been more than half in love with you since we were about ten years old. But I can’t live on scraps anymore. No matter how much…” The words back up and he shook his head angrily, turning his face from her when she reached out to him again.

He’d heard her gasp sharply at his declaration, but she too was shaking her head, a lone tear running down her cheek. There had never really been much hope left within him that she could give him what he needed; she wasn’t ready, or wouldn’t allow herself. The expression on her face and the tension in her long, lean frame - poised to run - told him all he needed to know.

Finally, his eyes dropped to the floor, no longer even wanting to look at her and think of all they could be together, and what he would never have. With a final exhalation of defeated breath, he gave her his terms. “Don’t sneak in here like this anymore, knowing how I feel about you, when you plan to sneak back out again with the sunrise and not give me anything of yourself in return. I can’t do it anymore.”

Ruby’s breath caught on a ragged inhale, as if she were gathering herself to argue with him and then the words fled her in the face of his honesty. He knew if he met her gaze it would be glossed over with unshed tears, panic covering her features at losing the passion and connection they had always shared, but unable to expose her true self - her psyche, her heart, her soul - to keep him. He forced himself to hold his resolve; if he allowed her pain to catch at him, he knew he would have to comfort her. It was who he was, and where his weakness had always been when it came to Ruby Jones.

“Graham…” she finally whispered shakily, her voice a wavering breath not much like the silken purr she usually employed. “I can’t - you don’t understand - “

But he cut her off, gently taking a step back, a safer distance away from her before he crumbled and gathered her up in his arms. “I understand more than you think, Ru. You’re not the careless, untouchable vixen you try to play. There’s more to you, more than anyone else has bothered to see, more than you let show. I want that for you… and for us. And I can’t keep tearing myself apart hoping while nothing ever changes.”

Her shoulders slumped as she saw that his mind was made up, and she blinked moisture from her lashes quickly, biting her lip in determination that she wouldn’t be hurt enough to cry. “You’ll regret this, Graham. You know that, right? Can’t the fact that you are special to me, that I always come back to you, be enough?”

“Not this time, Ruby,” he murmured, sorry already, even as he spoke, but still adamant that he deserved more than the dregs of her attention, even if that meant she left his arms forever.

“You drive a hard bargain, Dr. Hunter,” she commented sadly, one last plaintive attempt at banter with a half-hearted smile that died before the upward curve of her lips was completed. “Ever think maybe you’re asking too much of me?”

But he shook his head slowly, studying her intently now - in a way that didn’t allow her to avoid him. “No, I don’t.” He spoke softly, deliberately, intoning the words that he genuinely believed. “For far too long, I haven’t asked enough. There is so much more within you, Ruby Jones. A capacity for love and greatness that you refuse to let yourself experience. I know that… whether you can see it yet or not.”

She shook her head regretfully, mouth twisted in a sort of grimace. “Then you may need to have your head examined,” she retorted, her hand on the door again.

With her almost gone, and not knowing when he would see her again, or be able to speak with her or touch her, or smell the sweetly ripe and enticing scent of the shampoo she used on that silky mahogany curtain of hair, Graham panicked a bit and recklessly reached out, clutching her upper arms and pulling her just close enough to press his lips to her forehead and breathe her in once more, knowing it might have to hold him indefinitely. He almost took it all back, but clung to his pride by the very tips of his fingers.

“You know, I’ll be here… right?” he murmured, breath hot across the skin of her brow. “If you ever decide you want to make a real go of this…”

Ruby had her pride too though, and that wildness and fear which twined together to keep her running and at enough of a distance from everyone that she had convinced herself she couldn’t be hurt. Tall and as elegant as a statue, that poise trained into her since she could walk, she let out a watery chuckle. “You had your chance,” she warned, trying for offhanded nonchalance. Though it fell far short of her mark, she didn’t back down. “I wouldn’t hold your breath.” She pushed the door open and slipped out of the clinic as quickly and quietly as she had appeared hours before.

Sadly, Graham sighed as he raked his hand through his disheveled curls before bowing his head in defeat. It hadn’t seemed that he had another choice, and yet in the moment he felt as though he had just made the worst possible mistake… and lost something he might never get back.

*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*

Once she’d left Graham’s clinic, Ruby found herself wandering aimlessly. Of course she’d returned to her snazzy little car and rummaged around in the duffle she’d stashed in the back for a more normal and less blatantly seductive outfit. She didn’t have any trouble wriggling into it in the backseat undetected. It was a slow, sleepy, late afternoon in a small town, creeping toward dusk, and there was no one in sight. However, by the time she had finished and settled herself back in the driver’s seat, Ruby was sniffing back tears and angrily wiping the silent tracks of those which had already escaped down her face. ‘Why did he have to ruin everything?’ ran on a fuming, repetitive loop in her head, crying out against her desire to shrug it off as if it didn’t matter that much anyway. They’d had some good times, and he was a catch, sure, but Graham Hunter wasn’t irreplaceable she tried to convince herself. ‘He wasn’t happy with her in his bed? Fine. He’d be sorry once he’d been without for a little while.’

The rant she was trying to build up in her head sounded good, but she couldn’t put any feeling behind it - not really. She wasn’t even fooling herself. Graham was different from the other men she had charmed, toyed with, and strung along for a time. He always had been. She simply hadn’t wanted to admit that truth, and now it was boring its way into the center of her chest with all the strength of a drill bit. ‘How in hell had that happened?’ She’d sworn she wouldn’t give a real damn about anyone - not since even her own parents couldn’t be bothered to save a care for her. ‘How did he sneak through the cracks?’

‘Because he does care about you,’ a chiding but concerned voice that sounded a lot like how she remembered Rose’s whispered in her mind. He was there before you tried to lock everyone out, it added, and she shook her head, trying to scatter the unwanted reminders. With a growl of frustration, she swung back out of the little two-seater, noticing vaguely that though Storybrooke did not look very lively there were several small shops heading back toward the town square that had not yet closed for the day. ‘A distraction,’ she decided firmly, with a sharp dip of her chin and squared shoulders. ‘Take my mind off it for a minute, and before long, he’ll be in my rearview.’ The self-comfort rang a bit hollow, but she was already loping down the sidewalk with purpose, looking for something to catch her fancy.

The Sweet Shoppe on the corner had their door open, allowing a decadent and enticing scent of buttery pastry to drift out to passersby. Ruby grinned, cheered at least a little by the prospect of flaky layers of cinnamon sugar, crackly baked dough and butter in one of their famous pinwheels. One of those treats certainly wouldn’t right all that had gone wrong since she’d woken in Graham’s second story apartment an hour ago, but it surely couldn’t hurt, and she was grinning in spite of the hollow ache which had settled beneath her breastbone by the time she opened the door and entered the shop to the sound of the little bell above it chiming merrily.

Sure enough, she did feel rejuvenated after biting into the freshly-made and still warm delicacy. By the time she stepped back out of the bakery onto the sidewalk - one pinwheel happily devoured after practically melting in her mouth, and another bagged up for later in her hand - things didn’t look quite so bleak.

As Ruby headed on down the sidewalk, slowly starting to convince herself - for the time being at least - that she was recovering her equilibrium, she found herself reaching Emma Swan’s new store front, the displays in her window truly beginning to look much like a big city gallery and the potted flowers out front on the walk looking nearly ready for the upcoming grand opening. Some old, deep-seated pettiness stirred at first, as her dark eyes took in the signs of Emma’s determination not to quit - every bit as stubborn as any of the Joneses, too much so to back down, no matter who tried to keep her away.

But the longer she stood there on the pavement hopefully out of sight of anyone who might be inside since she was standing there gawking like she’d been frozen in place, Ruby couldn’t muster up the indignation and hateful bitterness she’d harbored before. Much as she had been hopeful to at last please her mother with her compliant agreement, or continue to feel hurt and jealous over the kinship Emma Swan had shared with her lost twin, the anger just wouldn’t come. In hindsight, with the light of day and the wisdom of years in between, she knew that Rose’s murder, the horror of that nightmarish day lost in the muggy, strangling soup of that long, horrible summer had not been Emma’s fault. In many ways, Emma had been another victim; one who kept being punished instead of laid to rest.

Despite the messes she had already made that day, Ruby determined that she was going to stop following the chosen family line. She would never earn Cora Jones’ elusive approval anyway, so why should she continue making herself and others miserable in pursuit of it? She had just reached out to try the door, just in case Emma was there, when the woman herself pulled into a parking space and exited the ancient VW that Ruby actually remembered her leaving town in years ago.

“Ruby Jones?” Emma questioned, her brow knit in concern as she moved to stand beside her on the sidewalk. “What are you doing here?”

Ruby shrugged a bit sheepishly, with what she hoped was a convincing smile. She wasn’t about to admit all that she’d just been thinking, and so she was at a loss for how to explain her presence.

“You can’t think I’m crazy enough to leave the place unlocked, surely?” Emma queried, moving the bag she carried to the opposite arm and fishing a ring of keys from the bag at her side. “Not with how many people hate me setting up shop here. Speaking of, wouldn’t egging the place be a little simpler than trying to break in?”

She quirked a challenging brow at Ruby, but also waited patiently for an answer, standing in the opened doorway as the warm air drifted through around them. And Ruby had to give her that one; she had never dropped even a single hint that she would simply pay Emma a friendly visit.

Finally relocating her usual sass, she winked, slipping in the door on Emma’s heels before the other woman could change her mind. “Nah, that’s for the riff raff. I can do better than egging if I really want to make my point.”

“I bet you can,” Emma drawled, looking bemused by the whole situation.

Rather than saying anything else for a moment, Ruby roamed around the small but beautifully arranged space, taking in all that Emma had done to make the building her own and have it looking its best. She couldn’t help being drawn in by the photographs themselves as well. While she might have been too hardheaded to acknowledge it before, her eyes were open now to recognize that Emma Swan truly had a gift - one for capturing her subjects in a way Ruby had never seen the like of before.

Emma, meanwhile, had moved to the counter to deposit her things and turned to watch Ruby Jones with genuine curiosity. Not speaking, she merely observed, wondering what had changed to bring a self-appointed enemy to her doorstep, seemingly anxious to play nice. Someone could have knocked her over with a feather, as the old saying went, when Ruby suddenly turned with a broad smile from where she’d stopped to study a huge canvas bearing a close-up of a single, stunning, blood-red azalea blossom as its focal point. Some sort of mischievous glint was in her eye that Emma didn’t fully understand until she asked, “Any chance you’d sell this one to me before your official opening? It’s just the thing my mother ought to have for her birthday.”

Too startled to catch the surprised snort of laughter that escaped at Ruby’s words, Emma slapped a hand to her mouth, eyes wide in shock. The brunette vixen she had always somehow felt was looking down her nose at her, looked genuinely pleased with her reaction, her pearly white smile broadening even more to look sharp and dangerous as well as alluring.

When she thought herself capable of calm speech instead of disbelieving laughter, she met Ruby’s eye and replied, “Oh, that can certainly be arranged, especially for such an illustrious recipient as your mother.” Emma was capable of her own sweet as pie with steel beneath expression, and she employed it now with a stealthy smirk of her own that made Ruby’s eyes widen in their turn. “Of course, I might have to charge you extra for not letting me be there to see her face when you gift her with one of my photos.”

The deal was struck, and somehow the unexpected exchange between them was healing. Nothing more needed to be said, but the years of avoiding one another, skirting painful history and old grudges, were past, and a weight fell from both their shoulders. They were two completely different people, with very different experiences and unique wounds to bear, but the one person they both had in common, and the fierce, proprietary love each had held for her - which had always stood between them - had brought them together at last. Just as Rose had always wished. As they laughed at their own impudence, and the vision of Cora’s affronted face when she realized the full import of the present, Emma gift wrapped the large frame, and Ruby gladly paid her for her first sale. Emma could almost feel her old friend’s presence over her shoulder and the echo of Rose’s sweet voice cheering her on.

*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*

He’d nearly gotten caught that morning, lingered almost too long as the dawn’s first rays spread across the sky, bringing light and warmth to the the early gray and beginning to dry the dew on the grass. ‘Should have remembered the little hellcat can’t sleep through the night! Never has been able to!’ he cursed to himself as he awkwardly lunged into the deep underbrush a few feet from the porch. He felt damned lucky she’d chosen to come back to the little cabin of horrors so close to the woods, and so secluded from any neighbors… That could have been a fine end to things before they could really get going - and he’d bided his time far too long already, been more patient than a man should rightly have to bear - to get caught with his hand in his pants on her front porch and blow everything he’d worked for. She’d go running then - just like she’d done before.

Emma Swan would not escape him a second time. Just as they had been all those years ago, all the points were aligned, but now he was ready and prepared - he wouldn’t allow her to slip from his trap. Still, he needed to be careful… couldn’t afford any mistakes.

Dark, hungry eyes watched from the safety of the trees as the screen door flew open and his quarry dashed across the porch, down the rickety steps and into her car. He drank in her curves like a wino would savor the first sip from a hard-won bottle. Hard again, he gritted his teeth before succumbing to the empty pleasure of his own hand. ‘Not much longer,’ the mantra repeated in his head. ‘Not much longer, and she will be mine.’

It was almost too easy; she had stepped into his web better than he could have planned, more naturally than he had dared to hope. It wouldn’t pay to get overconfident, but he could feel everything falling into place.

Oh, he could bide his time a little longer - after all, he’d waited this long - but soon she would be within his grasp. Just the two of them, and no one near enough to interrupt, or be any the wiser. She wouldn’t be able to run from him then.

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