#cssns23

[piinfeathers]

my cover art for @goforlaunchcee incredible cssns23 fic “Smoke and Mirros” ✨🌙🪞

check out her story here 💛

[booksteaandtoomuchtv]

Witchy Woman (10/10)

0.5 | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

LOOK AT THIS STUNNING ARTWORK BY @cocohook38

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

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

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

Rating: E

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

Entry for Captain Swan Supernatural Summer 2023 (@cssns)

Tag: @anmylica, @deckerstarblanche, @elfiola, @goforlaunchcee, @jrob64, @kmomof4, @pirateswhore, @stahlop, @teamhook, @tiganasummertree, @undercaffinatednightmare, @xarandomdreamx, @zaharadessert (let me know if you want to be added or dropped)

Author Note:

I confess that I struggled with this chapter far, far more than I could have predicted. Some of it was stress-induced writer's block that has started to clear as we approach the final stages of this move. Some of it was the fear of ending this in a way that leaves you disappointed.

I have pages and pages of struck material as I debated what to do with this chapter. With the conflict resolved and most of the questions of who, how, and what answered, I wrestled with what ending would make this story feel complete.

After months of writing, rewriting, stalling, scowling, and saying "I need to write this one chapter for my supernatural summer fic this weekend", I humbly set this before you and hope that it was worth the wait.

I cannot thank the CSMM Discord server enough for the encouragement and unfailing support in getting any writing done, but especially for the love and check-ins surrounding this fic. Thank you so, so much.

Finally, extra love to Marta and Krystal for having a sixth sense for when I was writing again. Your notes, check-ins, cheering, listening to my life drama, prayers, and such have meant more to me than you could ever know.

Enjoy! ---- ---- ---- ----

Sometime later...

Killian had never known nerves as he did now. He could feel his hold on his magic slipping as his emotions threatened to get the better of him as though he were a child again - rather than a mature vampire with centuries of experience successfully regulating his emotions and controlling his magic. Not knowing what to do with this abundance of jittery energy, Killian paced around the beautiful, blooming red Middlemist flowers. 

When he pictured this scene in his mind, he thought the flowers would set a romantic scene. They were a favourite of Emma’s and with Ruby’s affinity for earth magic, they’d made a beautiful field of flowers where Regina’s corrupted magic had once left nothing but rot. Now, he wondered if the red was more reminiscent of blood than passion. Maybe the location of that horrible event in their past should not have been revisited for this particular moment. 

He could hear her careful footsteps entering the forest, her steady heartbeat calling to him and calming him all at once. He reached into his pocket - just making sure - and waited for her to arrive at the clearing. 

“Killian,” she called before he could see her, a smile clear in her voice. “You do know…” But whatever she intended to say next failed her as she stepped into sight. "Oh," Emma breathed out. Her eyes were wide as she scanned the flowers now overflowing the grove. 

“I, erm,” Killian’s voice cracked. “You came into my life and filled the bleakest parts of it, of me, with hope, so I wanted to do the same for you.”

“This is beautiful. Thank you.” 

Killian knelt before her and held the intricate ring between them, the sapphire and diamonds glittering in the sunlight. He smiled up at her, the shimmer of tears present in her eyes, and - instantly - all the words he rehearsed for weeks escaped him. “Please, will you share the rest of your life with me?”

Sometime a bit later...

At some point, when Emma was not paying attention, Killian had become essential. It wasn't that she needed him to survive, that fear that had kept her from giving herself over to the pull of their connection when they were younger. Rather, with him, her life was simply better. 

Looking back on it, she realised this was a truth that she had always known - when they spent all those years apart, they still worked together and were friendly. Even with solid walls protecting her heart, she could not deny they made a good team. Now those walls were a distant memory. Now her heart beat in time with his, a ribbon of magic between them confirming the pull she had always felt toward him had always been more than a passing attraction. Killian had once told her they were mates. Mary Margaret had said they shared True Love and that was a powerful, but rather mysterious, magic. Emma thought of it more as two wandering, lost souls finding a home, a sanctuary, in one another. 

Coming home to Killian every night had been a bit of an adjustment. Emma spent her life solving problems for other people, but she often buried her thoughts or issues away. Killian gave her space to exist without and room to…feel. At first, she would apologise for spilling out all her problems or being so needy. He’d pull her into him, ask her about her troubles and validate her feelings until her guilt faded away and just peace remained. Overtime, she realised that this was something she should have always had - space and time to be more than someone else’s problem solver. 

A sharp jab beneath her ribs interrupted her musings. She rubbed her hand against the round protrusion now visible on one side of her hugely pregnant belly. Mary Margaret assured her that her baby bump was perfectly normal, but Emma worried she would never see the stairs below her or be able to pick up something she'd dropped, again. A part of Emma wondered if her little one was maybe too comfortable and would just keep growing and growing... Elsa assured her that her healthy baby boy would be here very soon. Emma had been so thrilled to tell Killian they were having a boy that she forgot to ask Elsa to define “soon.” 

The tiny foot pushed into her palm. Unlike the previous movement, this was a gentle pressure against her hand. As ready as she was to meet her little one, she knew she’d miss having him to herself like this. She knew he was a creature of habit; she could tell the time down to the second based on his movements. About five minutes before her usual lunch break, he would be active except on Wednesdays. He didn’t move much on Wednesdays, probably busy growing and such. After dinner, he got the hiccups. He always played back when she pressed her hand against him. It was strange how much she felt she knew this little creature despite having never seen his face or heard his voice.

"Your smile could ignite wars," Killian said as he crossed to her. He kissed her cheek, "inspire masterpieces." He kissed her other cheek, "and revive the blackest of hearts." He met her lips with a sweet kiss, his hand cradling her jaw and his eyes closed as he savoured the kiss as though it were water and he a man lost in the desert. No matter how often they kissed or how chaste the kiss, Killian savoured them all in this way - as though he had been dying and she had given him the air he needed to survive.

Despite the flush his flowery words brought to her cheeks, she rolled her eyes at him. She wrapped her hand around his and took a small step back, pressing his hand to her pregnant belly where the foot had been moments before. "He's up." 

"Hey, lad." At the gentleness and awe wrapped around those words, Emma's heart threatened to burst. She thought she could not love this vampire more, but still, more depth remained. Sometimes, she wasn't sure her heart could hold it all. 

A series of kicks met his words and touch. Killian's answering smile made her eyes burn with tears - the moment too perfect, too...everything...for her to process. 

"I love you," she said wishing there was another word or phrase to relay the emotions rolling through her in this moment. It was love, sure. But, it felt like so much more. It was bigger, endless and boundless, eternal and ancient. She felt a sudden warmth wrapping around her and flowing through her, Killian's emotions meeting hers and holding them together through that strange bond they shared. 

Even more time later...

Emma’s head rested heavily on his chest. Killian ran his fingers through her hair, gently taming the wild locks that had reached out to tickle his chin. He listened to her heart and breathing as she slept. Despite the soothing sound of her steady heartbeat and the softness of her features as she dreamed, he felt the chill of fear creeping up his spine. 

She will wake with the sun. He held firm to that thought; it was his anchor through this particular storm.

Years may have passed, but the dread he’d felt that long week, as he waited for her to wake, refused to dampen or fade. Rather, it wrapped around his heart and stole quiet moments like this one from him. 

He recalled the evening before in as much detail as he could pry from his memory. The long relieved sigh that had escaped from Emma as she sank into her side of the bed, the soft sound of her voice carrying from Liam’s room as she read last night’s chapter to him and his sister as they drifted off to sleep, her green eyes sparkling with humour when Hope transformed her lamb stew into cereal when Killian refused to give into the toddler’s demand, the comfortable - almost routine - kiss she gave him when she arrived home. Hundreds of similar moments came together to paint the full picture of their life together. Recalling them had loosened the tightness in his chest until he was able to watch his wife as she slept without wondering if she would find his way back to him when morning came.

She rolled off him, taking the covers with her. Rest would be even more elusive than usual this evening. Killian considered slipping out of bed for a late-night drink, but the chill of fear threatened to return. The warmth of Emma’s back pressed against his arm kept him grounded - leaving was not an option tonight. With a sigh, Killian picked a book up from his bedside table and settled in to pass the night. 

A few chapters later, a solid thud from Liam’s room pulled him back out of the story. The soft sound of blankets rustling followed shortly after, his only warning, before the air shimmered and deposited his youngest in his bed. Hope’s small toes were already digging into his side like tiny daggers as she wiggled and snuggled in what little space existed between him and his wife. He wrapped an arm around the little intruder and tucked her close to his chest, hoping not to disturb his wife. Hope turned into him- her head tucked comfortably (for her) in the crook of his arm and her eyes already closed. A soft sound between a coo and a sigh escaped from the intruder - somehow she was asleep once more. Killian watched her in wonder.

“You two are heartbreakingly beautiful together. It’s almost unfair,” Emma teased, her voice a gentle whisper in the night.

“Amazing how they fall asleep so quickly when they crawl in here at night given the battle they wage at bedtime. I am sorry we woke you, love.” He leaned toward her to press a kiss into her temple. But, pinned down as he was beneath the sleeping tot, he could not quite reach. He frowned dramatically at her - take pity on a poor vampire?

With the slightest eye roll, Emma relented and brushed the softest kiss on his cheek. When she pulled back and made to lie back down, his frown deepened into a full pout. A slight curve to her lips was all the warning he got before she leaned forward once more and nipped his bottom lip. She soothed the sting of her teeth with a few deep kisses before breaking their contact with a very self-satisfied smile. 

Killian ran his tongue over his lips to capture the warmth lingering from her kisses. Her loving teasing had melted away the last of his earlier anxieties. She slipped from the bed, his shirt falling to her thighs, and disappeared down the hallway. He smiled at her disappearing form and, content with his daughter in his arms and a lightness in his heart, drifted off to sleep. 

Much later… 

It was Sunday, so the delicious rich scent of a roast permeated through the house. He found Emma in the kitchen with flour covering her arms and the tip of her nose as she formed a pie crust. It would be spiced apple pie since that was Artie's favourite and Emma doted upon the child. Killian was also known to spoil the young boy, but who could blame them?

Killian was fairly certain that Hope’s little boy was the most perfect creature ever to have been formed, so they took every opportunity to shower Artie with all the adoration and love they could.

Being a parent had been a journey - sometimes rewarding and sometimes endlessly frustrating. Being a grandparent, however, was an absolute delight. Not only did he get to watch his strong-willed, independent daughter grow into a compassionate and endlessly patient mother, but he also got to soak up the phases of Artie's childhood in a way he hadn't as a parent. Rather than anticipating the next developmental milestone, worrying over the best school decision, or trying to figure out the best strategy to parent finding his child on the top of the kitchen cabinets at four in the morning, he found his role as a grandparent allowed him to be able to just play again. 

“Are you revealing your secret project today?” 

“I believe it is ready.” Killian looked out of the window overlooking the play set he had been designing and building over the last few weeks. Since Artie was over a few times a week, hiding the mammoth from the little pup had been quite a challenge, but Killian had somehow managed.

“The pirate ship theme is a nice touch. Artie loves your high seas tales, even as unbelievable as many of them had become…” Emma said as she smiled up at him. The sight stole his breath, as it had the first time she turned the full force of her unfiltered smile on him. Would there ever be a time where this woman would fail to affect him so deeply? 

“Are you accusing me of embellishing my stories?” Killian asked with mock offence. 

“It has been a few hundred years. You cannot be blamed for misremembering a few details.”

“I have fabricated no details of my experiences.”

Emma cocked in eyebrow - or tried to, Killian was still the most skilled that that trick - in disbelief. “The kraken, Killian?” 

“Every word of it is true.”

“Oh, yes. The kraken saw into your soul and deemed you a kindred soul and so joined your fight against the Royal Navy.” Killian’s ears turned a pink, even as he confirmed that, that was the truth of it. “It had nothing to do with your crew sneaking the fish you were feeding the monster for over a month onto their ships the night before the battle.”

“Aye...well, that might’ve played a small part,” Killian admitted sheepishly. 

“Mmhmm,” Emma agreed. She was pouring the filling into the crust - cinnamon, nutmeg, and sugar warmed the air around them. 

Home. Both the feeling and the word filled him at present. He’d always pictured it as a building, a physical safe harbour to weather one’s life. But after decades spent with Emma, he knew it could be found in a relationship, in another person, and in the life that you create with them. 

“PAPA!” The shout was the only warning he had before his grandson launched at him, propelling them down to the floor in a heap of giggles. Today, their home would be filled with the family they created and there was nothing more Killian dared to want. 

Much, much later…

The legend that soul mate lifespans were entwined was proven true as decades of life faded into centuries. They shared joys beyond what either of them had dared dream. They weathered storms together, learning to turn in toward one another when they needed strength or a haven in which to be vulnerable. And through it all, they held fast to one another, secure in the love they shared and the partner with whom they shared it. 

In other words, they truly lived happily ever after.

Notes:

Oh, I hope you enjoyed this. I have been really anxious about hot to end this work and I really, really hope that you enjoyed the glimpses of their ever after. I look forward to hearing from you... even if I've let you down a bit. (If so, I am very sorry. I cannot emphasise just how many rewrites and attempts I made at this - and this is the one that felt the most right to me. I would ABSOLUTE understand if it doesn't feel as such to you.)

[grimmswan]

Dracula in Storybrooke ch 8 final chapter

@cssns

For Captain Swan Supernatural Summer

Once Upon A Time: Captain Swan: Emma Swan/Killian Jones

“You weren’t tempted by the prospect of immortality? Not even once?” Killian asked as they made their way out of the caves.

“The idea of living forever? Watching everyone I love die?” Emma shook her head “No. I’ve seen what living for centuries has done to you and Gold. You, at least, were in Neverland, surrounded by your crew. No one around you even aged. Gold never formed a bond with anyone. That’s probably what darkened his heart a lot faster. He’s lived for centuries, and still doesn’t understand friendship, and love. I don’t ever want that kind of existence.”

Meeting up with her parents, Emma saw that everyone Dracula had turned was back to being human.

David, seeing his daughter and her boyfriend, eyed Killian with scrutiny. “Are you back to your normal self?”

“Aye, I’m back to my usual extraordinary self.” Killian grinned.

“I’m so glad that you both are alright.” Snow hugged Emma and Killian. “It’s a relief that the theory that everyone would be human again once we got rid of Dracula was right. He is gone, right?”

Emma nodded. “Nothing but dust. We won’t have to worry about him anymore.”

“Now we’ll only have to worry about the next villain who will pop up in this town.” David sighed “But, that’s a worry for another day. Today, we celebrate our victories.”

“I think we should get Henry, and Regina, and have burgers and milkshakes at Granny's,” Snow proclaimed.

Everyone was in agreement and headed out to do just that.

No surprise, Henry demanded to know every detail of the epic battle. He was eager to write down another installment of his family’s heroic wins.

“That Dracula didn’t know who he was messing with.” Granny said as she brought their plates of food. “Emma would never want to become a vampire. She would have to give up onion rings.”

“And chocolate milkshakes.” Emma added, grabbing hers from the trey. “The idea of being a vampire was not nearly as tempting as Dracula thought it was.” She looked at Killian. “The trade would have certainly been a downgrade.”

A couple of nights later, when Henry was again staying at Regina’s, Emma decided to surprise Killian with a game of dress up.

Killian walked into their bedroom and stopped suddenly. His beautiful Emma was wearing an interesting set of clothes.

“It’s called a cheerleading outfit.” She explained. “I thought after slaying vampires it was appropriate. Technically, I am a vampire slayer now.”

Killian recalled Emma and Henry showing him a television play about a teenage girl who was called a slayer and fought monsters. He had thought there were many similarities to the girl on screen and the woman he was in love with, and had told Emma so. Of course Henry had loudly agreed with him and she had been greatly flattered.

She swayed her hips as she moved to him. “Do you want to reenact some of the scenes from the show?”

Killian knew just what scenes she had in mind. “Just as long as we’re not doing every scene in its entirety, I don’t want to explain to your father why our house has crumbled down around us.”

[undercaffinatednightmare]

I went digging into my eleventy-billion ideas scattered throughout my drive to bring you a list of either last words or close to what I wrote last on the docs. I tried to make sure there wasn’t smut in the lines, but I did curse.

Hopefully this kick starts the muse. She’s been hibernating while real life goes crazy.

@captainswanwipwednesdays

Untitled 1776 fic

With a quick check of herself in the mirror, she threw a shawl around her shoulders and shut the door quietly. When she was certain Arthur wouldn’t see the fear on her face, she opened the door and stepped towards him before Arthur or his men could enter her house again.

Blackberry Summers

“I would give my entire fortune to know those thoughts.” He murmured as he leaned close enough to trail a finger down her cheek. “What was it that made you blush, Swan?”

@teamhook’s fic

“You should learn how to tie one of these things”

“Why? It gives you a sense of accomplishment”

Ice Castles

Her brow furrowed again and she pouted slightly. “What are we doing?”

“I think it’s time a certain Swan took flight.” He kissed the tip of her nose before he picked her up in his arms and stepped onto the ice.

Rear Window

How had she missed that? Emma immediately sent a text to Will before groaning into her pillow. She was completely fucked.

Fairest chapter 5

“I’ve already made an appointment at Ella’s for dress shopping!” Her aunt looked like she might pop from excitement.

Killian wrapped his arms around her waist. This wedding was going to be an explosion of tulle, but at least she wouldn’t be wearing the feather dress.

Untitled A/B/O Smut

“Probably.” He chuckled and brushed a kiss to her shoulder. “But I should probably get some clothes on?”

“In the washer.” She hummed. “I wasn’t thinking.”

Untitled A/B/O

The pull to hold her was too strong to ignore this time. Emma buried her face in his chest as the tears wracked her body. When she finally calmed, she pulled back to meet his eyes. He had no idea what she was looking for, but she found it and wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him closer.

Her scent gland was right beside his nose and whatever she was producing made his head swim. He was vaguely aware of her standing on his feet as she tucked herself against him. It didn't matter. She could step on him all she wanted if it meant she'd stay here.

Untitled Supernatural fic

Squeak. Squeak. Squeaksqueaksqueaksqueaksqueak SQUEAK. Squeak. SQUEAK. SqueaksqueakSQUEAKsqueaksqueak SQUEAK. Squeak. Squeak. Squeaksqueaksqueaksqueaksqueak SQUEAK.

A Charming Curse

“You do know who you’re talking to, Miss Charming?” The smooth voice was pure malice.

“You came to me for help, not the other way around.” I shouted at him. “Go find someone who wants magic.”

Captain Who - Eleventh Hour

The crack snapped shut and Olivia stared at her blank bedroom wall, “Who was that?” She asked him. “Was that Prisoner Zero?”

Captain Who - The Snowmen (for @everything-person )

“Snow that can remember? That’s silly.” Was she teasing him? Bloody hell.

“What’s wrong with silly?” He felt a smile tug his lips despite his sour mood. Bloody hell this mood had lasted longer than some of his previous regenerations.

“Nothing. I’m still talking to you.” There it was again. That smirk in her voice, the light in her eyes. A century or two ago, he would have thought she was flirting, but that wasn’t possible anymore. Was it?

“What’s your name?” His manners were a little rusty, but she didn’t seem to mind.

“Emma.” Her smile grew brighter.

“That’s a nice name. Emma.” He turned to return home. “You should definitely keep it.”

How I Met Your Mother

“Didn’t my sister tell you? I was able to catch an earlier flight.” She asked and she draped her coat on the chair. “What’s going on?”

The door burst open as a red haired woman tumbled in. She was followed by a tall muscular blond man with a sandwich nearly falling from his mouth as he navigated the steps. “Liam! Elsa gets in early! Oh…hey Elsa!”

Cordially Invited

“It’s why I came looking for you, Captain. You requested my last two dances, did you not?” She smiled mischievously and handed him her dance card. K Jones was written in the last two entries.

Kaos

Granny, Ruby, and Leroy were having a heated argument when a disembodied female voice interrupted: I’m having trouble understanding you. Playing Shake it Off by Taylor Swift.”

A song filled the dining room and Leroy tugged something from deep in his pockets. “No!” He growled at the talking phone.

Only Murders in the Building

"I swear if you apologize for that, I'll make you wait 10 more years." She rasped.

He rested his forehead against her and chuckled quietly. "I would despair if you did."

Sparkling Cyanide

Six people were thinking about Regina Mills-Gold who had died nearly a year ago.

Citadel

The metal scraping of a chair on the floor made Killian’s eyes throb in pain. Bloody hell. His head was already pounding.

Archie sat across from him and leaned his trusty umbrella against his chair. “Alright, Agent Jones, care to tell me what happened?”

Killian closed his eyes and focused his glare on the inside of his eyelids. “I told you already.” He took a breath and met eyes like chips of ice. “I returned home with my wife.”

Archie drew out his tablet and a pen as he began tapping on a screen. “Right. And who would that be?”

“Olivia Rogers.” He replied.

Parabellum

In the ashes of his happiness something else took shape. If he couldn’t be a better man for her, he could become their worst nightmare.

They should have left him in peace.

Untitled Mashup

"My father loved Egypt so much, he married my mother, who was an Egyptian" Killian Jones to Emma Swan after drinking rum for the first time.

@teamhook ’s Christmas

Someone like Emma deserved better. She deserved a better man that he had been or could hope to be. Maybe, he could give her back her sibling.

I’m Wishing

He chuckled at the odd turn of phrase, but before he could inquire about the relevance of the temperature, the door opened to a stooped, wrinkled old woman with stringy gray hair looking painted. What had Ruby called it? A cartoon?

Death on the Nile

She tilted her head to look at her husband. He truly was beautiful in the sunlight. His big blue eyes sparkled at her when he smiled. She traced the tip of one elven ear with her fingertip and laughed when he caught her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm. For a few moments, she allowed herself to be swept away by the depth of love she saw reflected back in his eyes.

Code: Omega

Killian sighed when his cubicle mate, Ariel, brought him coffee and a danish from her coffee run. "Lass, if Eric doesn't propose soon, we should talk."

"Ha!" She grinned. "You'd never be able to afford me."

"A man can dream." He chuckled. "You are an angel. Thank you."

Aunt Soolie

“Natural?” West looked furious. “Well it might be natural for a sardine, but this girl’s father put me in charge of making sure she grows up to be a proper lady. Which is why tomorrow at 8 o’clock, I’ll be taking this girl to St Meissa Academy and you will only get your depraved hands on her Christmas and summer and I wish I could find a way to stop you from that!”

Blind Date

Emma pressed against him as he drove to the restaurant. She caught the tip of his ear between her teeth and he nearly drove into the other lane. “God your scruff is so sexy. I wanna know how it feels between my legs.”

Traveling Storm

Late that afternoon, they arrived at a clearing and he felt panic set in. A woman grabbed a young girl with blonde curls, but the child slipped past to run away from the house. “Papa!” she shrieked over and over before Teach picked her up and walked back inside. The woman shouted and ran for him, but he grabbed her by the throat and took them both inside.

Tag!

——————-

@jrob64 @resident-of-storybrooke @lfh1226-linda @darkshadow7 @fleurdepetite @motherkatereloyshipper @soniccat @beckettj @zaharadessert @winterbaby89 @earanemith @everything-person @elizabeethan @elfiola @anmylica @booksteaandtoomuchtv @tiganasummertree @teamhook @caught-in-the-filter @ilovemesomekillianjones @whimsicallyenchantedrose @jonesfandomfanatic @kmomof4 @laianely @stahlop @gingerchangeling @hollyethecurious @exhaustedpirate @ultraluckycatnd @xarandomdreamx @belovedcreation @shady-swan-jones @ohmakemeahercules @bdevereaux-blanche

Let me know if you want to be added or removed from the tags 💜

[hollyethecurious]

CS AU: The Law of Surprise (3/3)

Summary: The Law of Surprise: a custom as old as humanity itself. The Law dictates that a man saved by another is expected to offer to his savior a boon whose nature is unknown to one or both parties. In most cases, the boon takes the form of the saved man's firstborn child, conceived or born without the father's knowledge.

A/N: This is NOT a Witcher AU. The idea for this fic WAS inspired by the show, however. I’m not sure if the Law of Surprise was a show/game creation or if it existed before. Regardless, this fic is my spin on the concept and will be posted in three parts.

Much love and thanks to the @cssns mods for keeping this event going year after year! A HUGE shout out to my artist @eastwesthomeisbest for the AMAZING pieces she made to accompany my fic. Go give her ALL the flails! Finally, all the hot chocolate, rum, and grilled cheese sandwiches for my amazing betas @ultraluckycatnd and @kmomof4. LOVE YOU LADIES TO BITS!

Rated T / Also available on ao3 and ff.net / buy me a coffee / add to tag list / Curious? Come Ask Me!  

Part One | Part Two

Part Three

The castle was brimming with life and gaiety. Orchestral sounds spilled over the balconies and light seeped from every window, illuminating the stone walls and bathing the gardens in an exuberant glow. If he’d had to guess, Hook would estimate the overflow from the ballroom to be in the hundreds as he made his way through the crush of courtiers, adorned in their finery as they eagerly awaited to be announced.

Dukes and earls. Ambassadors and emissaries. Military leaders and loyal sycophants. The creme de la creme of Misthaven and her allied kingdoms were all in attendance - all who had received a royal summons, that is. Hook had witnessed a number of people being turned away at the gate when they had failed to produce the invitation. The exquisitely designed edict with its filigree and gilded letters announcing the event of the century:

The Formal Betrothal Ceremony and Ball between Her Royal Highness Princess Emma of Misthaven and His Royal Highness Prince Neal, Son and Heir of the Dark One.

Not that Hook had received one himself, of course; their Majesties had learned their lesson the last time they’d attempted to share blessed news and an invitation with him. Pan had been serious when he’d meant no interference, though they had underestimated what the evil bastard considered as such until he’d enticed most of the Misthaven male youths away from their beds and nearly to their deaths over one of the kingdom’s cliffs, because the sovereigns had dared to have an envoy deliver him news of the arrival of their second child - a son. When David and Hook had confronted Pan before he could lure the boys to their deaths, the demon brat had made it clear that any communication, any interaction, any attempts to maintain or strengthen relationships between Misthaven and “his pirate” would be seen as a breach of contract and met with severe penalties. After that, Hook had once again kept his distance from Misthaven, and Misthaven had kept its distance from him. So, naturally, Hook did not fault them for failing to send him an invite to tonight’s festivities. They could not possibly have known that circumstances were different now.

A fact Tink kept nagging on about these past few months.

Months they had spent attempting to set things right in the wake of Neverland’s liberation. Months they had spent establishing authority and restoring order while dealing with uprisings from those still loyal to Pan. Months Hook had spent ferrying those who had wished to return to their homes, not knowing if one even still existed for them, as he warred with himself over the prospect of returning to his own.

It had been the news of Emma’s betrothal that had started the quarrel with Tink up again. Enjoying a pint in a dark corner of anonymity whilst patroning a tavern in Glowerhaven, they’d heard the toasts and cheers go up wishing the princess and “her prince” well. The Dark One’s son wasn’t truly royalty, of course, but none were fool enough to challenge the title.

While the other patrons had reveled in the news of the betrothal, their spirits high from the glee of gossip and tankards of toasts, Hook had sat with a weighty stone of despondency in his belly even as he’d tried to muster up some semblance of jubilation over the news.

“You must go to Misthaven,” Tink urged. “You have to tell them. Tell her. You can’t let her enter a betrothal or get married without--”

“Do you think I would interfere in her life now?” Hook replied through grit teeth. “Burden her with this… with me, when she has finally found happiness?”

“How do you know it is true happiness she has found? The Law of Surprise entrusted her to you. Gave you the responsibility and privilege of her destiny. You cannot sit by and allow her to--”

“To what?” Hook snapped. “To decide for herself? To pursue a destiny she has chosen? To fall in love and follow her heart while making alliances that will strengthen her kingdom and secure her reign? I am not her lord and master, nor am I her overseer.”

“No. You are not,” Tink said softly. “But you are fated to her. Bonded to her through the Law. Connected in a way she isn’t even aware of, because you haven’t allowed her to know. You owe her the truth before she establishes new bonds with another.”

Hook scoffed, but tapped the ring on his thumb against his tankard as he considered her words.

“At the very least,” Tink continued, “go see her. Before she is whisked off to the Dark Realm to prepare for her new life as Neal’s wife and future Queen of the Dark One’s subjects, go meet her. Make sure it is for love that she has chosen this path, and not out of a sense of duty or obligation. Slake your curiosity of who she has become and give yourself the peace of knowing that in spite of everything, she turned out well.” Hardening her gaze, she added, “And for the sake of all the gods, stop being a coward and go face your brother.”

He hated when the infernal fairy was right.

It was cowardice that had kept him from returning. Fear of having to divulge all he’d done in order to achieve his freedom, the lengths he’d had to go to and the ways in which he’d made Pan believe he’d broken him before finally being able to…

Afraid that there was no longer a place for him among society. Terrified over the prospect that, despite Neverland’s magic and the way it had kept him youthful, his life had already passed him by. Petrified to face the girl he’d been meant to watch over, daunted by the uncertainty of how she might react if he ever managed to work up the nerve to tell her the truth about him, about the Law of Surprise, about the fate’s design that had bonded them to one another before she was even born.

Tink had been right, though. He could not give in to cowardice, so he’d commissioned a new waistcoat and duster, one befitting a gentleman pirate paying court, and made port in Misthaven the evening of his princess’ betrothal ball. His lack of an invitation was no issue with the guards at the gate, he’d merely flashed them his hook and they’d allowed him entry, certifying that the king’s pardon of Hook’s crimes and promises of sanctuary within Misthaven still stood. Though Hook did feel it prudent to tuck his left arm behind his back, beneath his quilted, leather coat whilst in the receiving line, lest one of the guests glimpse it and start a fuss.

He wasn’t sure if it was the maddening wait, the stifling corridor, or the crowd of plumed and perfumed guests that began to grate on his nerves, spiking his anxiety and forcing him to withdraw from the ballroom hall. All he knew was that he’d suddenly found himself in a dark and isolated alcove around the corner from the crush, attempting to steady his breathing while muttering curses at himself for falling apart over something as simple as queuing for a ball.

“Is everything alright, good sir?”

Hook spun around, once more tucking his hook behind his back while his hand swept through his hair in an attempt to straighten his appearance. He stood in stupified silence for several skips of his heartbeat, too stunned by the gorgeous woman before him, until he finally cleared his throat and found his voice.

“Aye, lass,” he replied, unable to keep some of the awe out of his tone. “No need to concern yourself with me.”

The woman, young, blonde, with a slender form that did not fail to fill out the curves of her gown while demonstrating the strength he could detect beneath her proper posture, cocked her head to one side, her seaglass eyes narrowing at him even as a smile slightly tugged at the corners of her exquisite lips, rebutted, “A man hiding away in the shadows is a bit concerning, wouldn’t you agree?”

“I suppose so,” Hook conceded with a slight chuckle. Taking a step forward so she could get a better look at him, his smile broadened when her eyes widened and swept over his form with similar interest. “Truth be told,” he continued in a low timbre, “I am rather out of practice in the rules of court. It has been many years since I’ve attended a royal ball.”

Eyes snapping back up to his, she schooled her features and lifted her chin. “Have you not escorted someone to attend with you? Have you no one whose company you can rely on?”

Hook sighed wistfully. “My brother is here,” he said, attempting to keep all sense of melancholy or apprehension from his tone, “but I have not seen him in many years. My presence may come as something of a shock, and I do not wish to cast a pall on the evening. I would never wish to tarnish the memory of it for the princess.”

“The princess?” she parroted, her brows arching and achieving heights that nearly matched her voice. “You hold her in high regard then?”

“Aye. Very much.” Thoughts of his Emma, and the maelstrom of emotions they brought with them, made his voice constrict in his throat, making his next words a bit strained. “Though, I have not had the pleasure of her acquaintance since she was a child.”

The woman’s expression shifted, becoming pensive, almost far away, but as quickly as they had taken hold of her features, she shook off whatever thoughts she’d been contemplating. “Well, I highly doubt anything you do could tarnish this night for her.”

“I appreciate that vote of confidence, love.” Killian scratched behind his ear, his hips swinging with another swaggering step forward as he pressed a little too closely for decorum’s liking into her personal space. “I don’t suppose, once I’ve mustered up the courage to make my way into the ballroom, you would consider bestowing me the pleasure of a waltz?”

The corners of the woman’s lips tipped up again, and Hook wondered what it would take to encourage a full smile from her. Not that it mattered. He’d already accepted the challenge.

“Would such a consideration give you the necessary encouragement to face your brother and the court?” she asked.

Boldly, he took her hand and ran his thumb over the backs of her knuckles, murmuring, “Such consideration would give me the encouragement to do a great many things, Miss…”

Her lips parted, the response of her name on the tip of her tongue, when an attendant rounded the corner and jolted them apart with her exclamations. “Your Highness! I have been looking everywhere for you!”

Hook whipped his head from the attendant back to the woman who had snatched her hand from his and taken several steps back.

“Your Highness?” he said incredulously. “As in Her Royal Highness? Princess Emma?”

“I… I,” she stuttered. “I’m sorry, I must…”

“Excuse us, my lord,” the attendant said, encouraging her charge away from the alcove and towards the hallways that led to the royal entrance at the back of the ballroom.

Hook watched her depart, stunned by the realization that the woman with whom he’d been conversing - and was now rather taken with - was none other than the princess. His princess. His Emma. His Child of Surprise who was no longer a child.

He’d known that already of course, that she was no longer a child. More than ten years had passed since he’d last seen her, but as she was escorted down the hallway, briefly taking the opportunity to glance at him over her shoulder with an apologetic smile and a glimmer of attraction in her eyes, the reality of those years hit him full force. His princess was no longer a child, and once the betrothal ceremony was complete, she would no longer be his.

Forgoing the queue, Hook forced his way into the ballroom without being announced and found himself a vantage point where he could observe without taking on much notice. A resurgence of duty and responsibility filled him. He wanted to - no, needed to - weigh the measure of the man his princess was about to bind herself to in betrothal. Needed to know he was worthy of her.

Although, he was quite certain no man ever would be.

As the ballroom began to fill, his vantage point proved to be less than ideal. Unable to clearly see the dais, he started to shuffle his way through the throng as the prince and his father were announced, followed swiftly by Their Majesties and Princess Emma.

He was halfway across the room when the ceremony began, and the heavy weight of regret, knowing he was too late to do anything, pressed down upon him, keeping him rooted to his spot. His heart twisted painfully in his chest. He was about to lose her forever without having the chance to truly know her. He was a fool for wasting these past few months. A damned fool. All he could do now was watch as the prince and princess recited their vows while a fairy wove the betrothal bonds around them with her wand.

His heartache was quickly forgotten, however, when the final binding spell failed, leaving the betrothal void and eliciting a collective gasp from those assembled.

“I… I don’t understand,” the fairy stammered. “The magic should have worked. I… I don’t know what--”

“Clearly, you did something wrong, dearie,” the Dark One accused as he took a threatening step towards the young fairy.

“No,” Emma stated, stepping between her would-be father-in-law and the scared-out-of-her-wits fairy. “She didn’t. The magic failed to bind us, because…” Turning her attention back towards her would-be groom, Emma declared, “as I have told you numerous times, I have no intentions of marrying you. I don’t care about the deal our fathers made in order to end the war. My heart will never be yours, therefore no vows I make to love you will ever be true.”

Chaotic murmurs erupted throughout the ballroom, but Hook kept his focus on the dais.

“That matters not!” the Dark One shouted, pointing an accusing finger at Emma which made Hook’s hand itch for the hilt of his sword, unfortunately left behind on his ship. “Your feelings have no bearing and are not enough to void the betrothal spell.” Casting his ire upon King David and Queen Snow, he demanded, “Explain yourselves! We made a deal! You agreed to this betrothal on your daughter’s behalf. It is your word and your authority over her that binds that agreement, so why did it fail?”

Hook sucked in a startled breath. He knew why.

“I think I can answer that, and settle this matter,” he called out, causing all eyes to fall on him.

“And who might you be?” Prince Neal demanded.

“Captain Killian Jones,” he proclaimed, stepping forward as the crowd parted. “Though some have taken to calling me by my more colorful moniker.” Raising his left arm, he displayed his hook and a hysteria of murmurs further erupted amongst the crowd that was now cowering away from him.

David and Snow’s mouths dropped open and Liam, who had been standing by off to the side of the dais, rushed forward and took his place next to his sovereigns, a look of complete elation and shock coloring his aged face. The fairy fled, leaving Emma, Prince Neal, and the Dark One alone at the center of the raised platform, each of them staring at him with a variety of expressions.

“Hook!” Prince Neal exclaimed, before catching the eye of the many guards stationed along the walls. “Seize him!”

When none of the guards acquiesced to the command, an incensed and clearly alarmed Prince Neal sputtered, “W-Why are you all just s-standing there! Arrest him!”

“Oh, you must not be aware,” Hook said, swaggering his way towards the dais and stopping short of its steps. “You see, I have pardon in this land.”

Turning his incredulity and ire towards the King, Prince Neal opened his mouth, but was silenced by the quiet yet dangerous tone of the Dark One’s question.

“How, pray tell, do you plan to settle this matter, Captain?”

“By claiming that which was owed me the day I saved King David’s life and he vowed to honor me with a boon, dictated by the Law of Surprise.”

“A boon? What boon?” Emma demanded.

With confident, measured steps Hook made his way up to the top of the platform and stood in front of his princess, his body strategically placed between her and his new adversaries. His eyes captured hers and he knew they were crinkling in the corners as he smiled down at her.

“Don’t you know, Emma?” he murmured softly. “It’s you.”

Confusion and outrage flashed within her seaglass eyes and displayed themselves through each feature of her exquisite face. Though her reaction, not being what he’d hoped for, sliced through him, he could do nothing about that now, not when a fresh round of threats was being issued by the Dark One and his spawn.

“We had a deal!” the Dark One bellowed. “Your daughter’s hand in marriage to my son in exchange for me ending your war with George! You made a deal--”

“Which they have kept in good faith!” Hook roared, rounding on the imp and causing his son to stumble backwards. “They have prepared and presented the princess for betrothal, and Emma herself recited the vows, even as it went against everything she wished for herself. It is not their fault the fates did not bind the agreement. If you wish to lay declarations of war at anyone’s feet, then let it be mine, but I warn you…” Stepping closer, Hook loomed over the Dark One and in a timbre of hushed menace, he advised, “do so at your own peril.”

The Dark One’s eyes narrowed, perhaps sensing something about the man who stood before him that he had not registered before. Beside him, Prince Neal scoffed.

“Are we to be threatened by the likes of you? You are nothing but a filthy pirate.”

Hook grinned darkly and rocked back on his heels, tucking his thumb in his belt. “A few months ago I was nothing but a filthy pirate, but today,” hardening his expression, he declared, “I am Neverland’s King, and you do not want Neverland as your enemy.”

The Dark One visibly started, but the Prince merely snorted. “Neverland has no king.”

Keeping a calculating eye on the Dark One, Hook shrugged and addressed Neal with a casual air. “True. I never understood, with all his theatrics, why Pan had never outright declared himself king, but make no mistake…” The hard edge returned to his tone and countenance, “Pan ruled that island as a dictator king with an iron scepter and a crown of cruelty not even George could have dreamed of matching. Now that Pan’s dead,” the Dark One’s head snapped towards him, seemingly pulled from his thoughts with a number of questions swirling behind his dark gaze, “Neverland is under my rule. The island, its inhabitants, and…” Hook flicked his wrist and the entirety of the ballroom gasped when a jar of glittering dust appeared in his hand, “its magic. They all serve me now, so I say again. You do not want me as an enemy.”

Shrewdly, the Dark One scrutinized the jar in Hook’s hand, then inquired, “What, then, do you propose we do? The terms of the deal have not been met. I ended the war with King George. A debt is still owed.”

“Indeed,” Hook replied, holding out the jar towards the Dark One. “And I believe this canister of pixie dust is more than sufficient in settling that debt.” Hook pulled the jar back when the prince made an attempt to take it. “So long as you promise that accepting it means no further repercussions. Misthaven is safe from any further threats or acts of retaliation from you, and Emma is free to find love and happiness with whomever she chooses. Agreed?”

“Agreed.”

“Papa, no!” Prince Neal protested. “You can’t just--”

“I can, and I have,” the Dark One clipped in a tone of censure before snatching the jar from Hook’s hand. Addressing the King and Queen, he confirmed, “Our deal has been satisfied. My son and I will now take our leave, but heed this… do not call upon me for aid ever again.”

“We won’t,” King David assured him. His eyes cut to Hook’s, relief and gratitude swimming within their depths, but before he could make any further statements another round of gasps rippled through the ballroom as the Dark One and Prince Neal were enveloped in a plume of dark smoke and vanished.

A heavy exhale fell over Hook’s lips and he stood, frozen, in the gazes of his friends, his sovereigns, his brother, and… his Emma.

“It’s you,” she said, her expression and voice void of any inflection he could identify as her eyes seemed to look past him to that far off place he’d seen her subconscious go when they were alone before. “You’re… him. We’ve… we’ve met before.”

“Aye, Your Highness,” he hedged. Her demeanor and lack of response to all that had just transpired made him hesitant to push her too far, too fast. “Moments ago in the corridor--”

“No… no, that’s not. I mean…” Her eyes refocused on him with a mixture of awe, disbelief, and something that hadn’t quite made its way to the surface yet swirling through their verdant beauty as she whispered, “It’s you, isn’t it? The man from my… you’re him.”

“Him… who?”

“My pirate,” she exhaled, stunning Hook to his core as she lifted a chain that had been concealed beneath the high neck of her white gown. Dangling from the delicate links was a familiar looking pendant. The seashell he had gifted her - after she’d plucked it from his desk, the little thief - he realized. The far off look returned as she murmured, “Not a day has gone by that I have not thought of you.”

His heart swelling, Hook elated, “Good,” and took a step towards her. The action, like all his actions since he’d revealed himself, was not met with the response he’d been hoping for.

Taking several steps back from him, Emma rounded on her parents and shouted, “You lied to me! You made me think it was all in my head! You knew! You knew why I felt so… wrong, so deficient. So… broken. My entire life I’ve… You knew about him all this time and you never--”

“You mustn’t blame them, love,” Hook insisted. “It’s not their fault. I made your mother promise never to tell--”

“Perhaps we should take this discussion elsewhere,” Snow said, making them all acutely aware of their audience. The societal vultures practically circling in anticipation of the feast such morsels of scandal might provide.

“That won’t be necessary,” Emma seethed. “There won’t be any more discussion, because I’m not interested in anything any of you have to say!”

Hook gaped when she raised her hand, calling forth magic to transport her from the ballroom in a plume of white smoke.

“She has magic?”

“She’s the product of True Love. Of course she has magic,” the Blue Fairy replied with a terse and exasperated tone, having made her way onto the dais to address her sovereigns and offer her assistance. “Your Majesties, perhaps it would be best for you to withdraw with the… captain, whilst the other fairies and I tend to your guests?”

“Yes,” Snow agreed. “Thank you, Blue.”

Hook followed his sovereigns and brother to an adjoining room where they could converse and continue their reunion in private, though none of them seemed to know where to begin.

“I think I ought to go and check on Em--”

“No,” Hook said, cutting off Snow. “Leave her be. She’s had a terrible shock and no doubt needs some time to work out all that’s…”

They stood there awkwardly for a moment more until reality set in. They were here, together, reunited at last, and in a synchronized heartbeat they suddenly found themselves in a united embrace, laughing and crying tears of joy and relief at finally having the nightmare of separation behind them.

“Admit it,” Hook demanded of David, wiping the vestiges of his emotional release from his eyes. “You were hedging your bets when you made that deal with the Dark One. You suspected The Law of Surprise would void it when the time came, didn’t you?” Turning towards his brother, Hook surmised, “That’s why you wouldn’t let me relinquish my claim and bestow it upon you.”

Sheepishly, Snow admitted, “Blue was the one who suggested the idea. We could not be sure, though, given your… uncertain future under Pan’s rule.”

“Speaking of,” Liam chimed in. “However did you manage to defeat the little bastard?”

“It’s a bit of a sordid tale,” Hook told them. “And one I do not wish to relive in detail. Suffice it to say, I managed to gain a certain amount of trust with Pan, which allowed me close access to him. Revealing some of his weaknesses. One of them being… squid ink.”

Liam led them over to the settees and they all sat down as he remarked, “Squid ink is no easy substance to obtain.”

“Aye,” Hook affirmed. “Fortunately, whilst on one of my missions for Pan, I ran into a mermaid who wished to leave her life in the sea behind. In exchange for safe passage, and because she felt bad for nearly crashing my ship upon rocky shoals when she enchanted me with her siren song, she gave me the squid ink she’d stolen from her father’s vault. Tink and I used the ink to subdue Pan.” Fiddling with his hook, he cast his eyes towards the floor as he confessed, “My hook did the rest.”

“And Pan’s death gave you… magic?”

“Not exactly.” Hook pulled back the sleeve of his right arm, exposing the cuff secured to his wrist. “This does,” he said, tapping it with the side of his hook. “It was Pan’s. He was never without it. I learned that it tethered the Shadow to him, acting as a conduit to the island’s power which he could then bend to his will. At first, I had no desire for it, but its use became necessary in order for me to begin to set things right.”

Hook told them how he and Tink had spent the past few months: squashing rebellions from those on the island still loyal to Pan, learning about the island’s magic while working with the Shadow to restore balance to her shores, and returning those he’d brought there under Pan’s order against their will.

“There is still much to be done, but when I heard about Emma’s betrothal, I…” Not wishing to tell anymore half-truths, or admit that the news of her betrothal had not been enough without Tink’s prompting, he let his words trail off. He hadn’t shared with them his misgivings in returning, allowing them to believe these other distractions had been the reason for his delay, causing guilt to churn in his gut as he sat amongst them.

“Where is Tinkerbell?” Snow asked, perhaps sensing the shift in his demeanor.

“She remained behind in Neverland,” Hook replied. “Awaiting further orders.”

“Further orders?” David parroted. “What more could you ask of her?”

“Not from me,” Hook assured. “From Blue.” Glancing down at the cuff on his wrist, he imparted, “The island should go to the fairies. They are the only ones who can truly wield and balance its power. I have no wish to be its sovereign forever, but...”

“But?”

Hook sighed. “All magic comes with a price, and the price of using this cuff is that it cannot be removed unless both the wearer and the island agree to its removal.” A wry smile pulled at the corner of his mouth and he cheekily added, “or unless the wearer is dead and no longer has a say in the matter.”

“I don’t…” Liam floundered. “I don’t understand what you--”

“The island won’t let me relinquish my connection with its magic,” Hook said. “After Pan, I believe it finds me preferable and won’t risk falling into the wrong sort of hands again. My hope is that the fairies might be able to convince the island to free me of the obligation, which is one of the reasons Tink remained there. To continue working towards that end until reinforcements arrive.”

“Well,” Snow said, standing and causing the men to follow suit. “That is something we can certainly discuss in greater detail tomorrow. For now,” she turned to her husband and with a firm, yet regal, look, declared, “we really must return to our guests and assure them that all is well.”

“Of course,” David agreed. “You’re right. The gossip mill is no doubt having a field day and our allies deserve whatever reassurances we can give them.”

“My apologies for creating a spectacle.” Hook gave his sovereigns a chagrined and contrite look, but they quickly waved off his self-condemnation.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Snow assured him.

“Snow is right,” David asserted. “Without you, we’d likely be preparing for war with the Dark One. You saved us… again.”

Hook grinned and nonchalantly scratched behind his ear. “I imagine another boon might be in order then?”

David shot him a less than amused look. “I’m not granting you another Law of Surprise, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

“Though we do not plan to have any more children, I agree with Charming,” Snow said, a hint of amusement coloring her words. “Once was more than enough.”

Hook sobered at the reminder of his Emma, and the mess he’d made of things between them.

“You owe me nothing,” he said. “It isn’t as though I’ve lived up to the last--”

“Enough of that,” Snow admonished. “I know things may not have gone as you’d hoped with Emma, but tomorrow is a new day. Let me have a room made up for you, and tomorrow we can all--”

“Thank you, Snow, but I think I’d rather return to my ship.” When Liam opened his mouth to protest, Hook assured him. “I’ll remain in port. I won’t leave without discussing the matter with you first, I just… I need…”

“Much has changed for you, too, little brother,” Liam acknowledged.

“Aye,” Hook admitted. “Freedom is not something I’ve had much practice with, and I’m still getting my bearings. Still trying to decide what I want to do with my life.”

“You know you always have a home here, right?” David said, placing a heavy hand upon his shoulder. “A place to belong.”

“I appreciate that, Your Majesty,” Hook said, hoping his eyes reflected just how much that fact meant to him. “But do you honestly think things can go back to how they would have been if you’d never sent us to Neverland? Or if we’d all managed to return from the accursed mission?”

David flinched and his features twisted into an expression of guilt and regret.

“Don’t misunderstand,” Hook said, now placing his own hand on his sovereign's shoulder. “I do not blame you. I have never blamed you, but let’s not pretend I can just take my place within your navy and serve as captain of one of your ships. For one, I am no longer a man who takes orders from others willingly, and two… what crew would wish to serve under the likes of me? A pirate. A blackguard.”

“No one is suggesting we pretend the past twenty years did not happen,” Liam said. “There is much to work out, much to resolve and decide upon. For you… and for Emma.”

David’s expression shifted and he now regarded Hook in a way the pirate had never experienced before. Not as his sovereign, nor as his friend, but as a father. A rather protective father. A protective father who might have just registered the charged interactions the pirate and his daughter had shared in the ballroom.

“Indeed,” the man said with a slightly hardened edge on his words. “Perhaps we should have a talk about your intentions with my daughter.”

“Charming,” Snow scolded, saving Hook from having to respond. “Now is not the time.” Squaring her shoulders and taking up her regal posture, the queen declared, “While these matters are all important and worthy of our time and thoughtful consideration, the more pressing issue awaits us in the ballroom.” Fixing her eyes on Liam, she continued, “David and I will need your diplomacy in dealing with our allies. You and the fairies are our ambassadors for the duration of the event.” Shifting her attention to Hook, she offered, “You are welcome to stay, however, it may be best if--”

“If it is all the same to you, Your Majesty,” Hook interrupted, “I think I’d prefer to take my leave for the evening and return to my ship.”

Giving him an acquiescing nod, Snow replied, “Very well. Let us all get through this evening and get ourselves as restful of a night’s sleep as we can. We will then reconvene tomorrow.”

“And Emma?” Hook inquired.

Snow and David shared a quick look of solidarity, then confirmed with a glance towards Liam before affirming, “We will leave her be, for now. As you requested.”

Their silent recognition and acceptance of his sovereignty in Emma’s life both relieved and disquieted him. He’d meant what he’d said to Tink about not being her lord and master, but he would not hesitate to advocate for her if he felt those around her were not acting in her best interest. She needed time. They both did.

“Then I shall bid you all a good night,” Hook said, not waiting for them to reciprocate before transporting himself back to the Jolly Roger in a swirl of crimson, in dire need of a refuge where he himself could process all that had come to pass this evening.

~/~

Hook’s jaw cracked from the wide yawn he released early the next morning, his body stiff and feeling its true age as he went about his normal routine, shuffling through his cabin in naught but his skin. He’d managed to pull on his leather pants, leaving them loosely tied around his waist, when he heard a voice drifting towards him from the dock.

“Ahoy! Captain, are you there?” a woman’s voice softly called out. From the tentative tone and reserved volume, he could tell she was trying to draw as little attention to herself as possible. It mattered not, though. He’d know that voice anywhere.

Hastily, Hook pulled on his shirt, a few of the buttons he kept fastened in the front slipped free from their closures, leaving his chest completely exposed. Forgoing his boots or even bothering to check the state of his hair, he rushed from his quarters and onto the deck, stopping short at the sight of his Emma standing atop the gangplank, just shy of the deck. The morning sun bathed her in an ethereal glow, silhouetting her form, which was adorned in her riding apparel, hugging her curves and highlighting her shapely legs in a way that had Hook glad he’d left his trousers loose.

Shaking those thoughts from his mind, Hook continued to approach her, only now taking in her observations of him. Rather wide-eyed and pinked cheeked observations, he noted with a self-satisfied smirk.

“Princess?” he said, pulling her from her own thoughts, his breath catching at the way she wet her lips before clearing her throat.

“I apologize for arriving so early and unannounced,” she said, straightening her posture before inquiring, “Permission to come aboard, Captain?”

Hook grinned and closed the space between them with swaggering steps, holding out his hand to assist her. “Permission granted, Your Highness.”

When her feet hit the boards of the deck they stood there for a long moment, her hand still tucked in his as she took in the sight of his ship. When her gaze lifted to the mainsail a shudder ran down her spine. Though he was unsure how much she remembered from that night long ago when she last stood there, Hook was certain he knew what had caused her response.

“I sent him back,” he assured her, his voice low and soft.

“Who?”

“The Shadow. He’s the reason the sail is typically black, but I won’t need him until it is time for me to return to…”

Sensing this topic made her uneasy, his words trailed off and she pulled her hand from his. Noises from further up the dock grabbed their attention momentarily and Hook caught sight of her horse hitched at one of the posts, alone.

“Did you come here unaccompanied?”

“Yes,” she replied, uneasiness once again taking hold of her tone and demeanor. “I hadn’t planned it. I was out for my morning ride, clearing my head when…” Looking about she asked, “Is there somewhere we could go? Somewhere more private where we might converse?”

“Of course,” he said, not faulting her for not wanting to be seen fraternizing with him. “Follow me, Your Highness.”

He led her to his quarters and stopped at the threshold, allowing her entrance as he hung back. A soft gasp fell from her lips.

“It’s… it’s just as I remembered,” she whispered under her breath, taking in every detail of his cabin. “I thought you were a dream,” she confessed, though he wasn’t certain she was actually talking to him, her gaze far away and her words almost murmured to herself.

“I thought the whole thing was a nightmare.” Her hands skimmed over the top of his desk, pausing at his hook which he’d failed to secure in his brace before going on deck. “The shadow that kidnapped me, the dark island, the glass cage, the boy…” Her eyes flicked up, meeting his as she continued in a whisper, “The pirate.” Wetting her lips, her gaze never wavered even if his did briefly drop down to her mouth. “You’re real. You were real all this time.”

“Aye.”

Picking up his hook, she turned it over in her hands. “This is the hook you used to attach yourself to the barrel? The one my mother later gifted you?”

“How did you know--”

Setting it down she leaned back against his desk and let out a heavy breath. “I talked with them last night,” she told him. “My parents. After the ball, I demanded they tell me everything.” Her gaze dropped for a moment, then her eyes snapped up to his, determination shining from their depths. His princess was on a mission for the truth. “Did you really not know of my existence until Pan had…”

“No,” he confirmed. “I had no idea the King and Queen had a child, nor that the child was the fulfillment of the Surprise your father had granted me until Pan kidnapped you.”

Nodding her head in acceptance of his word her demeanor shifted slightly, her shoulders relaxing and her gaze softening.

“I want to apologize for the way I behaved last night,” she said. “How I reacted when you…” Her contrite expression gave way to one tinged with anger as she continued. “The morning after Neverland, when I woke up, everyone acted as though it hadn’t happened. My being kidnapped. My parents insisted I had dreamt the whole thing, even Blue made me think I’d…” Her hands gripped the edge of his desk, her knuckles turning white as she continued to lean against it for support, and it took everything within him to not go to her and offer himself as an anchor for her feelings of hurt and betrayal. “My whole life I have been sheltered, not allowed to make decisions for myself, feeling as though something… vital was missing from my life, yet unable to seek it out. Made to feel as though I were mad, because of this dream that would not leave me.”

Swallowing hard, she glanced around his cabin once more before her eyes fell shut. A deep breath filled her chest, followed by a cleansing exhale. When she opened her eyes the anger was gone, but a sadness lingered. Hook would do anything to alleviate it, but he knew she was not finished. There was still so much she needed to work through, to process, to accept, and he would give her the space to do all of it.

“Last night,” she carried on, “when the betrothal bond failed, I truly thought it was because my vows had been a lie. I thought I was standing up to Neal and his father, taking control of my destiny for the first time in my life, only to discover my future was never my own to control, because of another agreement my father made before I was even born.”

Hook winced. “I am sorry, Princess. Truly.” Pushing off from the doorway where he’d been leaning against the jamb, Hook took a few steps into the cabin, stopping at the corner of his bunk. “It was never my intention to leave you feeling powerless or alone. If I could go back, I’d--”

“You don’t have to apologize,” she said, her voice sincere and her eyes full of forgiveness. “You had no way of knowing what the Surprise would be, and with what George did to my mother, who would have ever guessed? I don’t blame you for how my life--”

“You shouldn’t blame your father either, Your Highness,” Hook said in defense of his sovereign. “He had no way of knowing either, otherwise you would never have become my Surprise.”

“True.” She crossed her hands over her chest, a hardened expression once more tightening her features. “The blame belongs to Blue and my mother.”

“What?” Hook balked.

Meeting his gaze, she informed him, “Blue knew about the barrel. She saw it listed on the inventory that was taken when the Jewel made it back with the survivors. They must have put it in the hold when they fished it and you from the sea. Blue could not be sure it had not been corrupted, so she gave the water to my mother without her knowing. It wasn’t until weeks later, when my mother came to Blue worried that something was terribly wrong with her, that Blue confessed what she’d done. She told my mother it was still too early to know for certain and that she should wait to tell my father until she was further along, then later that very same day…”

“He granted me the Law of Surprise.”

“My mother knew he intended to reward you for your bravery and sacrifice, but said she had no idea it would be… Father said it hadn’t even occurred to him to grant it to you until the moment before he declared it. So, no. I do not blame my father.”

Stepping forward, Hook closed the gap between them and took her hand in his. “I will not tell you how you ought to feel, Princess. I just urge you to not let anger and blame linger in your heart for too long. I know what it is like to let such emotions fester, letting darkness creep in and take root in your spirit, giving it a foothold in your soul. Learn from my mistakes, love. Resist it.”

“Why couldn’t you?”

Running his thumb over the back of her knuckles, he softly imparted, “For many years during my first deal with Pan, I didn’t think I had anything to live for. The demon made me a pirate and I became a villain, unworthy of association with people like your parents or my brother. I had resigned myself to a life of exile and wasn’t certain I’d even return to Misthaven, until…”

“Until… what?”

“Until I met you.” How he wished he still had his other hand so he could take both of hers in his grasp, instead, he settled for threading their fingers together. “I wanted to be a better man for you, Princess. I knew Pan would still require a villain, but I was determined to defeat him by any means necessary so that I could take back my own power and control my own destiny.”

“So… what now?” she asked, a soft tremble quaking through her words.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean…” she wet her lips, trying her best to hide her trepidations. “Your expectations. You said you returned in order to claim that which--”

“I said all that in an attempt to stop a war from brewing, and so you might be freed from a deal you never wished to be a part of,” he quickly assured her. “I know all too well the perils of making deals with demons, and it is a fate I would not wish upon anyone, least of all you.” Hook lifted their hands and cradled hers against his chest. “I have no expectations of you, love. I only wish to… to try and make up for lost time. To get to know you and have you get to know me. Fate may very well have its own plan, but as far as I’m concerned, whatever we become to one another is as much up to you as it is to me.”

A smile curled at the corners of her lips. “I’d hoped I hadn’t made that up about you,” she said. “I am glad to know you are, indeed, a man of honor and good form… just as I remembered you to be.”

Hook cocked his head to one side, his brows furrowed as he asked, “If you’ve always remembered the kidnapping, then why did you not recognize me in the alcove last night?”

“My memories weren’t… detailed,” she told him. “More like fragments. Impressions.” Looking past him, she began to call forth some of those memories. “I remembered you were a pirate. I remembered the silver fastenings of your waistcoat and the fact that you had dark hair, and I remembered… your eyes. They were probably the most vivid thing about you that I remembered.” Flicking her gaze up to his, she went on to say, “The truth of a person can always be found in their eyes.” Dipping her head, she demurred, “I’ve always been pretty good at knowing when someone is lying to me. It’s always in the eyes. I knew, from the moment I looked into yours, that I could trust you. That you were telling the truth about taking me home. Your eyes told me I’d be safe with you.” Locking her eyes with his, she wistfully admitted, “I’ve thought about your eyes so many times over the years.”

Her cheeks reddened and she suddenly could not meet his gaze. Hook wondered what other thoughts she might have had about her dream pirate as she grew older, but held back from making a saucy quip, allowing her to move past him towards his bookcase. Truth be told, he could do with a bit of space between them as well.

“My parents tell me that though you are finally free of Pan, there are still loose ends for you to tie up in Neverland.” Distracting herself she focused her attention on the contents of his shelves, picking through the books and lifting the lids on a few of the boxes. “Once that is done, what do you intend to do with your newfound freedom?”

“Honestly?” Hook exhaled heavily. “I’m not sure.” A tinkling melody filled the room when she lifted the top of what turned out to be a music box, hastily letting it fall shut before turning apologetic eyes towards him.

“Sorry,” she muttered, running her hands down the front of her riding jacket before clasping them in front of herself. “You were saying?”

Hook chuckled, then sobered a bit when he remembered what he was about to reveal. “I was saying, I’m not sure what I’ll do once my duty to Neverland is complete. I would like to return to Misthaven, I just… I’m not certain I have a place here any longer.” Fiddling with a few of the items on his desk, he added, “Of course, there are people here whom I wish to build relationships with.”

“Like your brother?”

“Aye,” he replied, lifting his gaze towards her. “Among others.” He paused, hoping she knew she was at the top of those considerations. “I have missed so much, and while I realize he is now old enough to be mistaken as my father, Liam is the only family I have left.” They both shared a quick laugh over that observation before he declared, “I do not want to miss any more of his life, or anyone else’s of importance to me.

Emma hummed, her eyes cast down towards her feet, perhaps unable to meet his gaze because of the intensity of it. “I’d imagine you’d want the chance to get to know his wife and your nephews as well.”

Her words rocked Hook to his core. “What?”

Emma’s head snapped up, her eyes widening and her jaw dropping from the realization. “I’m so sorry! I thought… I thought you knew!”

Hook slumped down on the edge of his bed, a new sense of melancholy and injustice washing over him as he ran his hand through his hair and pulled at the strands in the back. “How long has he… how old are his… why did he not…”

“They’ve been married almost ten years, and have two sons. Her name is Belle and she’s…”

Emma paused when Hook buried his face in his hand. So much time wasted. The toll of the years Pan had stolen from him never seemed to cease in its increase.

The sound of the music box filled his cabin once more, prompting Hook to look up from his sorrows. Tentatively, Emma approached.

“I wish there was something I could do about the time that was taken from you and your brother. I wish I had words of wisdom or answers that might guide you towards what’s next, but I don’t. All I can do in this moment is… make good on a promise I gave you last night.”

Confused, Hook could only stare at her, until she clarified, “I believe I owe you a waltz?”

Hook huffed out an amused breath. Reaching up he pawed at the patch of skin behind his ear and confessed, “I know I instigated that, but truth be told… I haven’t danced a waltz in over twenty years.”

“Well,” she replied, clearly not letting him off the proverbial hook. “Good thing for you there is only one rule.” She grabbed his hand and pulled him to his feet before wrapping his braced arm around her waist. Taking his hand in hers she flicked up her gaze and murmured, “Pick a partner who knows what they’re doing.”

She took the lead until muscle memory returned, then Hook glided them around his cabin, holding her close and marveling at how she’d been able to pull him from his sulliness with such a simple act of kindness.

His Emma was a marvel, to be sure.

“Do you, Princess?” he asked, causing her brows to pinch together as her head tilted to one side. “Do you know what you’re doing?” he clarified, his voice low and hushed, wanting to keep the moment tender despite the question burning at the back of his throat. “What you are going to do now that the threat of Pan and your obligation to marry Prince Neal has been lifted?”

Chewing her lip, she gave the inquiry her considerations before drawing closer to him. Moving her hand from his shoulder to toy with the back of his neck, she sent a cascade of shivers down his spine as she addressed his question with one of her own.

“Did you know that other than the night I was taken to Neverland, this is the furthest I have even been from the castle?”

That piece of information shocked him, though he knew it should not have. Her existence had been kept a secret for the first half of her life because of George, and the threat of Pan had kept her parents cautious for the past decade. Fear had made his sovereigns hypervigilant with their greatest treasure, so no, it should not have surprised him that they’d kept her close to home, safe behind the castle walls, never straying from the grounds.

“I have never left these shores. Never seen the beauty or experienced the culture of other realms, or met anyone who wasn’t thoroughly vetted by my parents.” Wetting her lips, her eyes fell to the charms hanging around his neck, but Hook knew her gaze was far away once again. “I know I have a duty and obligation to my kingdom, my people, and my parents, but…”

“But?”

Glancing back up with a slight expression of guilt pulling at her features, she murmured, “I can't help but wonder if my brother, Leo, was the fates way of allowing me to… That is… I know I should not wish to burden him unnecessarily, it’s just that--”

“Where would you go first?” Hook asked, still swirling them around his cabin, maneuvering their bodies with the same ease in which he attempted to change the course of their conversation. “If you had the means to go anywhere, where would you go first?”

“Neverland.”

Her quick and unexpected reply had him stopping them in their tracks. “Neverland? Why?”

Once again, she worried her lip, her breath hitching shallowly in her chest. “As much as I long to see the world, the memory of the one time I left Misthaven still haunts me,” she said, her voice a tad unsure at first, though it gained a sense of certainty and resolve as she continued on. “I want to go back so I can face it. So I can put the fear it has held over my life behind me, once and for all.”

When she flicked her gaze up to his, something new stirred within those seaglass depths and the effect of it seemed to hum between them, electrifying the atmosphere of his cabin.

“I want to see what sort of place it is now. With Pan gone. I want to know how it has fared under your rule. How it’s changed due to your influence and direction.” Swaying closer to one another, she was practically a hair’s breadth away when she murmured, “I want to see it for myself in the hopes that…”

“That what?”

Her eyes fell to his mouth and his pulse quickened.

“That it proves that I am… not wrong about you.”

It took his mind several skips of his heartbeat to register the feel of her lips against his, but once it did, instinct took over. His braced arm pressed into the small of her back, bringing her even closer to him, their chests nearly touching with the only obstacle between them being her hand. Her fingers curled through his chest hair, pulling a groan from the back of his throat that vibrated against her lips as his own slanted across them. Threading his fingers through her hair, he wrapped his hand around the base of her skull so he could position her head to his liking, deepening the kiss and coaxing her lips apart with his tongue.

The taste of her was captivating. He could spend the rest of his life drinking her in yet never be satisfied, always wanting more, always needing more… of her. Just her. His Emma.

However, now was not the time for more, and from the gentle, yet insistent, press of her hand against his chest, it was evident that his princess was not ready for what could come next if they continued down this path of passion.

“That was…” he whispered against her lips, chasing them without thought.

“Destiny?” She giggled, her nerves and inexperience quivering through her laugh.

Brushing his nose against hers, he loosened his hold, creating some space between them while assuring her, “As I said before, I have no expectations of you, no expectations for what might happen between us or what we might come to mean to one another. Only… only hope and a promise.”

“What promise would that be?”

“I promise to do whatever it takes to win your heart, Princess. I promise, that for as long as it pleases you, I’ll be here, at your service.” Taking her hand in his, Hook vowed, “I will take you to Neverland, and any other realm you wish to see. I will remain by your side, even if, one day, it is only to stand in support of my future queen.”

“What about Liam?” she said, clearly overjoyed by the prospects he’d laid out whilst harbouring some guilt that their fulfillment would take him away from his brother.

“My brother will be here whenever we choose to return,” he comforted. “Besides… he has his own life to live, and whether he chooses to acknowledge it or not, he’s been shouldering a duty and responsibility he was never meant to carry.”

“Are you suggesting I’ve been burdensome to your brother?” Her tone was laced with offense, but it was betrayed by the teasing expression she could not keep from her features.

“Oh, yes,” he cheeked back, winding his arms around her waist. “Quite the burden you are. How will I ever bear being bonded by the fates to Your Highness?”

“Hmmm,” she hummed, running her palms up his chest then wrapping her arms around his neck. “Perhaps, you could start by calling me by my name, Captain.”

“As you wish… Emma,” he obliged on an exhale.

She graced him with a smile, then asked, “And you? How may I address you? Or do you prefer Captain?”

He wouldn’t deny the pleasure it gave him, hearing her call him Captain, and he was about to make a tawdry statement attesting to that fact when his eye caught a glimpse of his hook, still sitting atop his desk.

“Call me…” he said, his voice choked and barely able to utter the name he’d long abandoned. “Killian. Please, Emma. Call me Killian.”

“Killian.”

The sound of his name on her breath shot a thrill of wonder up his spine. His lips crashed against hers and they both surrendered to the destiny fate had planned for them long ago.

Which, honestly, should not have come as a… surprise.

Thank you all for going on this journey with me! I hope you enjoyed the ride!

Tagging the Curious Crew: (add to tag list)

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

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[wyntereyez]

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.

--------

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 <i>purred.</i>

“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.

<i>How?!</i> 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 <i>vampire</i>

“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 <i>vampire bat</i>?”

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~

[eastwesthomeisbest]

Fairy Dance

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

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

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

[snowbellewells]

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

[cssns]

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!!!

[deckerstarblanche]

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

[cs-rylie]

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

[snoozealarms]

How to end a frontend developer's career

[booksteaandtoomuchtv]

Witchy Woman (9/10)

64.media.tumblr.com

0.5 | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | AO3 | 10

LOOK AT THIS STUNNING ARTWORK BY @cocohook38

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

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

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

Rating: E

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

Entry for Captain Swan Supernatural Summer 2023 (@cssns)

Tag: @anmylica, @deckerstarblanche, @elfiola, @goforlaunchcee, @jrob64, @kmomof4, @pirateswhore, @stahlop, @teamhook, @tiganasummertree, @undercaffinatednightmare, @xarandomdreamx, @zaharadessert (let me know if you want to be added or dropped)

Killian woke up with Emma on his chest and the blankets wrapped tightly around them. Emma had built her cocoon around them both sometime in the night. Her sea-coloured eyes were already on his and she wore a contented smile while she twirled her finger in the patch of hair on his chest. 

“What a lovely sight to see upon waking, Swan.” 

“I've been admiring the view myself,” she said before placing a chaste kiss on his chest. 

He ran his hand along her side, squeezing her tight to him as he did so. Her soft skin pressed against his beneath the blankets. Everything was perfect. These moments were becoming more frequent - they were no less precious in their frequency. With these once fleeting moments of warmth, contentedness, and connection becoming commonplace between them, their relationship felt more real, more substantial, than it had before. She wasn’t going to vanish from his grasp between one second and the next. 

“I need to get up and shower and help Anna with the beach party preparations and…” Killian interrupted her task list with a sweet kiss.

“Let’s start with the shower - that is something I can help you with.” 

“Okay, yeah.” Emma shifted off him to the en suite. “But after coffee, I have to go.” 

“Hmm, that is a while from now,” Killian answered as he followed her into the bathroom to run the water for them. He tugged her into his shower and water engulfed them from all sides. He chuckled at the deep groan that she released when the side jet nearest to her hit her lower back. He kneaded his hand and his blunted arm into her lower back muscles, enjoying the sounds of her sighs and moans when he hit upon a particularly sore spot. 

“I’m never going to leave if you keep this up.” 

“That’s the plan, love.” Killian smiled cheekily at her as she turned to hug him in the warm water. 

“This is nice.”

“Aye, that it is.”

“I like waking up with you,” Emma admitted softly. Killian broke their embrace to lather soap on them both.

“Should you move in with me, we would never need to wake up any other way.” Killian hadn’t intended to ask her, but he did not regret it. He wanted her to be the first thing that he saw every morning, the blanket thief in his bed each night, the clothing left strewn about the immaculate house, the other coffee cup on the counter top, and all the thousands of tiny things that are involved in sharing a life together.

“Hmm. You want me to move in with you so that we can always wake up together?” 

“Aye. That’s one reason.” He answered after they rinsed off the soap. 

“Not the only one?”

“There are so many reasons that I want to share a home with you, Emma. Move in with me and let me show them to you?” 

The water seemed to roar more loudly in the quiet that followed. Time slowed in that cruel way it does when the next second will irrevocably impact your life. Perhaps, it is meant to help you prepare in case the ensuing second arrives ready to break you beyond repair. Maybe it is less malicious than that, a moment stretched out so that you know to pay attention and be fully present because what happens next matters. 

Killian intently watched as thoughts and emotions flickered wildly behind Emma’s eyes, as she drew in a breath to answer, as she formed the words that propelled time suddenly forward.

“You do have a kitchen full of my favourite snacks,” Emma smiled excitedly up at him. His heart was cliche as it soared with joy.

“Aye, and these plush towels you love so much,” he said, wrapping her in a towel as they stepped out of the shower. 

“And, that insanely large and comfortable bed.” 

“Aye, and coffee,” he offered, “with cinnamon.”

“All with the vampire that I love.” 

“All for the witch that I love.” 

§§§§    §§§§    §§§§    §§§§

The connection that they’d forged between them last night felt like a thread pulling and guiding them together. It was a bit strange at first - when she left to catch up with Anna, it had felt like a rubber band angry with being stretched to its limit. But, it quickly became a comfort, especially, after all the time they’d spent apart. 

As he went about his day, checking security for the beach party and of the town, he grew accustomed to the gentle nudge at his chest urging him ever closer to her. At times, he was sure he could detect echoes of emotion that belonged to his witch. 

There was also a new awareness of the strands of magic flowing around him and through him that he knew meant he’d absorbed some of her powers. He was a magical creature, his magic was an essential part of his being and ruled him, but her powers gave her control over magic. He wanted to explore this with her further, to ensure he could use her gifts without a cost to her and to experience the world as she did. Plus, he thought up some positions and games for them to try once he learned how her telekinesis worked. 

He was completing a final check of the security plan for tomorrow’s event before heading to the beach party when he received an email from Smee reporting a new possible security risk. 

“Bloody,” Killian cursed as he opened the missive. He couldn’t afford to overlook any potential situation just because he was anxious to get to the beach. 

He skimmed the report - a non-issue. But, he’d been delayed far longer than he wished. He shut down his computer and cleaned off his desk when the echoes of emotion that had accompanied him through the bond all day fell silent. 

His heart pounded as he pulled out his phone and called David. He was travelling at the height of his vampiric speed, the beach almost in view, as he listened to the phone ringing out. 

The band was playing and the party was in full swing when he reached the shoreline. The tether to Emma tugged him away from the party. Fear that didn’t belong to him crawled up his spine - Emma. 

“Hey, it’s David. Leave a message.”

Killian cursed, waiting for the beep. “Something has happened to Emma. I am tracking her and sharing my location with you. When you get this, find me. See you soon, mate.” 

He followed that wonderful tug toward the abandoned mines. When he reached the entrance,  he caught her scent mixed with another he knew well. Smee? 

As if in answer to his question, Smee emerged from the dark. 

“Sire?”

“Mr Smee,” Killian acknowledged. “Why aren’t you at your post?” 

“I got a call about some werewolves causing trouble nearby. I came to check it out.” 

Liar. The thought came from the magic swirling around him - Emma’s lie detector was more literal than he ever considered. The betrayal stung for a moment. The way his scent was so intermingled with Emma’s suggested that Smee was a part of what was happening with Emma. He wanted to demand answers, to hurt Smee the way Emma’s fear was hurting him, but he had to get to her. He didn’t want to waste time on Smee’s games. 

He smiled at Smee, all teeth and predator. Smee had a moment to process the threat before Killian rushed him and tore his head from his shoulders in one quick movement. He left the body and head at the mouth of the shaft and entered the mine. 

He could feel the anger radiating from her through the thread that connected them now. Anger meant she would find a way to fight, that would buy him time to reach her.

As he raced deeper into the mine, Killian’s chest started to burn as if it were being set on fire. What the fuck is happening? 

He set his teeth against the crippling pain and pressed on. He encountered a few weak werewolves blocking his progress. A wave of his hand sent them into the rock wall, knocking them out, and clearing the way forward. 

Screaming bounced around the dark walls around him and the scent of Emma’s blood was thick in the air. A growl tore through him as rage, red and hot, overtook him. He stormed forward, entering a cavern lined with sigils and one large stone slab where Emma was restrained and screaming as she battled a force he could not see. 

Regina and Neal stood in the space, watching the brutal scene unfold before them. Regina’s mouth was moving quickly, chanting the spell that was attacking Emma. Neal turned to face him with a broad smile on his face. “She’s going to be mine, now,” Neal gloated in way of greeting. 

Killian flung him against a wall to be dealt with later and turned his attention to the witch harming his mate. He darted toward her. She raised an arm, suspending him in mid-stride. Her chanting continued as she held him with little effort. He fought against Regina’s magic with all his strength but failed to overpower her magic, failed to stop Emma’s suffering. 

Regina smiled. 

Now would be a fantastic time to arrive, David. 

Killian stopped fighting against Regina’s power. It wrapped around him and held him in place. A witch’s magic would always be more powerful than the raw strength of either a vampire or a werewolf. It was how the gods kept the balance between the creatures. He just needed to figure out some other way to best her. 

An itch in his fingers alerted him of a change in the magic restraining him. It was gathering at his fingertips, aligning with the magic at his call, no longer holding him in place but awaiting his commands. 

He snarled forcing the magic back into Regina. It halted her chanting before tearing her into pieces from the inside out. A pile of purple dust gathered where the villainess had just stood. “Bloody hell.” Emma’s magic was a truly terrifying and wonderful thing. 

Turning to the slab, he waved away her restraints and pulled her into his arms. She was unconscious as he turned to take her out of this hell. But she was safe, now. He gripped her tight to him, the relief of her heart beating against his chest almost brought him to his knees.

“I think I hear something in this direction.” 

“David, my magic says they are this way.” Mary Margaret’s voice rang out through the tunnels. 

“Mary Margaret. David. We’re here.” Killian called, his voice breaking with emotion. She’s safe, now. She will be okay. 

§§§§    §§§§    §§§§    §§§§

For every day that Emma did not wake, Killian carved a reminder into Neal’s flesh. For every time she called out Killian’s name during her endless slumber, he would break a bone, heal it, and break it again. The hisses and cries of her tormentor did very little to ease his anger, but even a drop of water is worth collecting if you’re dying of thirst. 

He entered the cell holding Neal, for now, ready to claim his flesh as the seventh day passed without any change. They had healed her with his venom, the bones in her hand knitted together days ago, her body was healthy but her mind was still out of reach. He felt like he was slowly losing parts of himself every day she stayed in this state. Perhaps, it was why he was enjoying taking parts from Neal so much. 

Neal looked up as Killian entered, the fear behind his eyes dulled from the day before, and his posture seemed resigned but no longer hopeless. A dark feeling crept through Killian, his jaw clenching against it.

“How’s Ems?” 

“You don’t get to ask.” Killian shut the door behind him, the lock engaging automatically behind him with a quiet click. “I do apologise, Neal, for you seem to have mistaken yourself for a guest in my home. Or a plaything that I intend to keep around for some time.” 

Neal’s eyes widened and the sharp acidic scent of fear filled the air as it dawned on him that tonight was going to be different than the previous six. Killian’s smirk was all hungry predator toying with his prey. “I assure you that I intend to rectify those misconceptions most thoroughly before I leave tonight. I am afraid that does mean that you won’t live to see tomorrow, mate.”

Killian smiled when Neal rallied his courage to make a last stand against him. He was hungry for a fight. Neal attacked first, lunging for Killian with his fangs extended as if they would pose any threat to Killian. Killian laughed without humour knocking the weaker vampire to the ground. He put his boot against Neal’s arm, pinning him to the floor. 

“She will never forgive you for killing me.” Neal spit out. Killian increased the pressure on Neal’s arm until a satisfying crack split the air. Neal grunted in pain, tears leaking from his eyes.

“She doesn’t like you nearly as much as you’ve told yourself,” Killian said smoothly. 

“She’ll leave you. That’s what she does.” Neal’s voice was between a whimper and a whine, a pathetic sound befitting the creature he was. 

A light knock at the door prevented Killian from responding. Killian’s heart squeezed in his chest, he knew what that knock meant. 

“Goodbye, Neal.” Killian dug his hook into Neal’s chest piercing his black heart. Neal pulled in one last wheezing breath before Killian grabbed a fistful of his hair. “I can’t say you’ll be missed,” Killian growled as he pulled. 

Killian kicked the heap of Neal’s body before turning on his heel and leaving the cell. David stood outside of the door. He nodded slightly to Killian, a small smile tugging at this lips, as Killian emerged from the room. Pulse racing, Killian turned to the guard he’d posted at the door, “Will, dispose of the tosser and ensure he is properly turned to ash.”

“Yes, sire.” 

“Good man.” Killian made his way back to his room in the best spirits he’d been in all week. 

Emma was waking.

[grimmswan]

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.

[mie779]

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

[hollyethecurious]

CS AU: The Law of Surprise (1/3)

Summary: The Law of Surprise: a custom as old as humanity itself. The Law dictates that a man saved by another is expected to offer to his savior a boon whose nature is unknown to one or both parties. In most cases, the boon takes the form of the saved man's firstborn child, conceived or born without the father's knowledge.

A/N: This is NOT a Witcher AU. Want to make that clear from the get go. The idea for this fic WAS inspired by the show, however. I’m not sure if the Law of Surprise was a show/game creation or if it existed before. Regardless, this fic is my spin on the concept and will be posted in three parts.

Much love and thanks to the @cssns mods for keeping this event going year after year! A HUGE shout out to my artist @eastwesthomeisbest for the AMAZING pieces she made to accompany my fic. Go give her ALL the flails! Finally, all the hot chocolate, rum, and grilled cheese sandwiches for my amazing betas @ultraluckycatnd and @kmomof4. LOVE YOU LADIES TO BITS!

Rated T (for now) / Also available on ao3 and ff.net / buy me a coffee / add to tag list / Curious? Come Ask Me!  

Part One

Smoke billowed from the hull, choking the air as steel clanged around them. Shouts and screams echoed across the deck that was coming apart beneath their feet.

“The King! We must save the King!” Liam bellowed over the melee, dispatching a man who, up until a few days ago, had been one of their brothers-at-arms. No sooner had the man’s body hit the boards than another rushed forward to take his place, challenging the traitorous sea captain whom they had expected to aid them in their mission, not take up arms against them.

“Brother!” Killian cried out, moving through the throng towards Liam with slashes of his cutlass clearing the way.

“The King!” Liam commanded once more. “Get to the King! That’s an order!”

Killian’s grip tightened on the hilt of his sword and he swallowed past the instinct to ignore such an order. Notes of black powder, brine, and blood filled his sinuses as he took in a fortifying breath and turned away from his captain in search of His Majesty King David. Through the soot laced plumes, the dying breaths of a ship that would soon find itself on the bottom of the sea, Killian could see King David fending off multiple assailants with sword skills that had become legend. Movement through the swirls of ash caught Killian’s attention and his stomach dropped. Lurking behind the King was an unseen assassin, and Killian had but a few seconds to launch himself between his would-be sovereign and certain death.

The force of their meeting blades jarred Killian, but he held firm. Applying a few less than savory tactics to give him the upper hand, he made quick work of the assassin then threw himself into the fray, defending the King as they fought side by side until the remaining adversaries lay dead.

“Y-You,” King David panted, his chest and shoulders heaving from his exertions as he tried to catch his breath. “You serve my… my father, King George.”

“Not any longer, Your Majesty,” Killian told him. “Once we learned of George’s treachery against Queen Snow, we could not stand idly by and accept such orders.”

“We?”

“My brother, Captain Liam Jones, and those of us who chose to follow good form rather than betray a treaty made in good faith.”

“Lieutenant!” one of their men shouted. “Captain says we must abandon ship at once!”

“Too right!” Killian called out, grasping the King by the arm. “Time to go, Your Majesty.”

The planks they’d used to board the crippled vessel were just coming into view when the ship lurched and began to list violently. Grabbing onto the rigging, Killian prompted King David to hoist himself up onto the gunwale.

“Here!” Killian shouted, forcing a length of rope into the King’s hands. “Take this and swing over. Our men will catch you!”

“What about you?”

“There’s no time! You must go, Your Majesty. Now!”

When the King attempted to voice his protest once more, Killian gave him a firm shove, forcing him to cling tightly to the rope as his feet lost purchase with the side of the ship. The sight of the King being hauled to safety was the last thing Killian saw before the deck beneath him gave way. Agony ripped through his wrist where the rigging was still wrapped around it. The weight of his body and the vicious twisting of the rope as it held to the cleats it was knotted upon effectively severed his hand, dropping it into the flood waters below with a sickening splash that preceded the rest of Killian’s body as he desperately tried, and failed, to grab onto the railing with his remaining hand.

Sea water filled his mouth, still open from his screams of pain, and forced its way down his throat. Panicked, he reached out, hoping against hope to make his way out of the collapsing hull, determined it would not become his tomb. Through the vanishing streaks of sunlight, Killian watched in horror as crimson began to surround him. His own blood, freely flowing from the shredded remains of his wrist, colored the frigid waters as his consciousness started to wane and black threatened to overtake red. Something brushed his side, and with the last vestiges of his strength and wits, Killian noted it was a barrel, still sealed and buoyant, making its way back towards the surface with the line and hook that had once secured it within the hold still attached. Scrambling, he secured the hook to the straps crisscrossing the front of his uniform and prayed the sea would not yet claim him, giving into the oblivion that was proving too much to overcome.

~/~

The room was still. Too still. And bright with sunlight. The serenade of cooing songbirds, the swishing of skirts, and the flutter of wings too big to belong to the nesting swallows were within earshot.

Killian groaned and willed his eyes to open, though he had to squint past the assault of the sunbeams streaking in from the windows. Just as he’d deduced while coming out of his stupor, he was no longer on a ship, but in a stone room with many windows and a number of cots filled with others who, like him, were suffering from a variety of injuries. Killian had almost gotten up the courage to inspect his own grave wound when a shifting presence seated at his bedside snapped his attention to the person keeping vigil.

“Y-Your Majesty?” Killian croaked, stunned by the fact Queen Snow would be the one in attendance at his sick bed. “What? How?”

“Shh,” Her Majesty soothed, waving one of the healers over. “You have been unconscious for some time.”

“Surely you have not been at my side this entire time.”

The Queen chuckled. “No. Your brother and I have been taking it in turns.”

“Why on earth would you--”

“You saved my husband’s life. Ensuring you survived your injury seemed like the least I could do.”

His injury. His hand. Killian clenched his eyes tightly and swallowed back the bile his anxiety was threatening to send up his throat. The Queen took his remaining hand and leaned in to softly murmur words of comfort into his ear.

“The fairies did all they could, but with your hand lost to the sea they could not…” She paused, her voice strained and filled with compassion as he finally opened his eyes and lifted his head so he could take in the bandage wrapped remnants of his left arm. “You had already succumbed to fever by the time the ship returned, and while their magic was able to tend to the wound, the trauma you sustained made it difficult for them to apply the full measure of their powers. Now that you are awake, you can begin to…” Again, her voice trailed off, most likely distressed by the tears leaking out of the corners of his eyes. “Lieutenant, look at me,” she insisted, squeezing his hand a bit tighter until he complied. “You will survive this. Your brother tells me there is none as resourceful or as a stubborn as his little brother, so I know you will manage to adjust in time, and with the fairies aiding you in your convalescence--”

“Younger,” Killian choked out, a sob catching in the back of his throat. When the Queen’s brow pinched together, her head tilting in perplexity to his response, he clarified, “Liam knows I abhor being referred to as his little brother. I prefer younger.”

A smile twitched at the corner of her lips - lips as red as roses, or so it had been said in the tales chronicling her and the King’s storied love - and the corners of her eyes crinkled affectionately as she yielded, “Younger.”

“Your Majesty,” the young fairy she had waved over when he’d first awakened timidly interjected. “I should tend to Lieutenant Jones now. Would you also like me to send word to Captain Jones--”

“No, I shall inform him,” the Queen replied. With a sigh she stood from her seat and allowed the fairy nurse to take her place. “See that you comply with everything they request of you,” she commanded Killian, her gaze turning regal and unrelenting until he nodded his agreement. “Good,” she said with a warm smile, one that tilted further upwards into a teasing smirk as she vowed, “I promise to look back in after Captain Jones has had his chance to fuss over you.”

“Perhaps your fairies ought to put me out of my misery now,” Killian groaned, the prospect of Liam hovering by his bedside, relentlessly questioning the fairies’ work while issuing his own commands of healing and restoration upon his little brother making him wish for the sweet abyss of sleep once more.

~/~

It had been the rumors of poisoning that had first started the brothers Jones to question their allegiance to King George. Whispers of a treachery that would ensure Queen Snow’s line ended with her had begun to spread and with it, the suspicion of their King’s true character. Killian had suggested King George might not be the noble and just ruler they had first thought when signing on with His Majesty’s Navy after being freed from indenture when the ship they served sank in a storm, but Liam would not hear such slander. It was not until the rumor had been confirmed by Lancelot, a soldier turned traitor they had been tasked with capturing, that Liam finally accepted that which Killian had tried to convince him.

King George had poisoned Snow White. Cursed her during his toast at the wedding that was supposed to unite their two kingdoms - an added benefit to the true love she’d found with George’s son, Prince David. It was not love, either for his son or new daughter-in-law, that filled the King’s heart that day, though. George had wanted revenge, he wanted to punish them both for going against his wishes, for robbing him of a union with a more prosperous kingdom, so he had Snow’s goblet dosed with a potion that rendered her barren and unable to produce an heir, a fact he revealed to them after he’d returned to his own kingdom, thereby nullifying the treaty they’d made in good faith before the wedding.

Lancelot had not only provided them with the truth about their King, but confided in them his knowledge of a plot the sovereign had conspired against his own son. The newly crowned Misthavian King’s life was in danger. Before George had dispatched Liam’s crew to go after Lancelot, he’d commissioned another ship to lay in wait, sure that King David would sail to confront his father about what he had done. Their orders were to waylay King David’s vessel and see to it the ship went down… with no survivors.

Without a moment to spare, the brothers Jones had rallied their men, calling upon them to reject the traitorous King and instead take up arms in the service of the noble King David, and set a course towards the location an ambush would most likely take place. Luck had been on their side, arriving just as King David’s ship had begun taking on water.

During his many weeks of convalescence, Killian learned that upon returning to Misthaven, King David had accepted the allegiance and oaths of fealty from those who had defected. In addition to new loyalties was the boon of acquiring George’s most prized ship, the Jewel of the Realm, of which he had insisted Liam remain captain once the damage she’d sustained in battle had been seen to.

Both Liam and Queen Snow kept Killian apprised of the war that was now in full swing, and the lieutenant would be lying if he said he was not eager to join his brother in the fray once more. His injury (and his own stubbornness), however, was delaying such a desire from becoming reality. Though healed to the best of the fairies abilities, it was Killian’s determination to rehabilitate and acclimate to his new reality without any magical assistance that slowed his progress. All that changed, however, when he heard the news that repairs had been completed to the Jewel, and Captain Jones was being called forth for his first mission under their new sovereign.

“Are you sure?” Tink asked, again. “You’ve been doing so well without it.”

“I will not let my brother sail into dangers unknown without me to watch his back,” Killian growled. “You’re the one who kept insisting I was making things too difficult for myself, so just perform the bloody magic so I can present myself to Their Majesties at my brother’s side!”

Tink gave him one last assessing look, then sighed. Holding out her wand, she sent a cascade of magic over him, altering the dominance of his muscle memory from his left side to his right.

“There,” she said. “All you were able to do with your left hand before, you will now naturally experience with your right.”

Killian clenched and released his right hand, then wrapped it around the hilt of the sword sheathed at his hip. Drawing it, he cut the air around him with metallic swishes, marveling at the ease with which he instinctively maneuvered it with his previously weaker hand.

“We still need to determine the attachment you wish to have fashioned for your brace,” Tink reminded him, but Killian waved her off.

“Later.”

Returning the sword to its scabbard, Killian straightened his appearance. “Have they assembled?”

Tink peered over the gallery’s balcony wall that overlooked the throne room. “The King and Queen are just now being seated. They’ll be calling for your brother momentarily.”

“Then I’d better hurry,” Killian quipped, shooting Tink a quick wink. After a few steps, he stopped and turned back, grasping the fairy by her shoulders and pulling her in for a tight hug. “Thank you,” he murmured before pulling back and placing a quick peck on her cheek.

Tink rolled her eyes. “Go,” she said with half a laugh, and Killian did not have to be told twice.

“What do you think you’re doing out of the infirmary?” Liam questioned when Killian made it down to the hall outside the throne room just as the Royal Usher appeared to announce their entrance.

“You didn’t really think I’d let you go on this fool’s errand without me, did you?” Killian needled with a hint of cheek.

“It only becomes a fool’s errand when a fool joins it,” Liam shot back, stifling the smile twitching at the corners of his lips.

“Precisely,” Killian agreed, waggling his brows in Liam’s direction. “Your involvement alone has seen to it.”

A chuckle rumbled through Liam’s chest and he slapped his brother good-naturedly on the back. “We’ll see what His Majesty has to say about it. I suppose you’ve earned at least that.” Turning to the usher, Liam requested, “Please announce our arrival to Their Majesties.”

Nodding, the usher signaled the guards who pulled open the large wooden doors.

“Captain Liam Jones and Lieutenant Killian Jones of Their Majesties’ Royal Navy!”

Killian kept stride a step behind his captain, focusing on his breathing and the rampant beat of his heart the closer they got to the dais. Though he’d had the pleasure of becoming acquainted enough with Queen Snow to no longer be nervous in her presence, this was the first time since shoving the King off the gunwale of his ship that Killian had been in the imposing man’s presence. Following Liam’s lead, he bent low at the waist when presented and awaited acknowledgement from his sovereigns before straightening to attention.

“Lieutenant Jones, how wonderful to see you,” Queen Snow greeted with a warm smile. “Though, I confess, we had not expected you.”

“My apologies, Your Majesty,” Killian offered. “I hope you forgive my impudence, but once I learned of the commission placed upon the Jewel, I could not, in good faith, sit idly by whilst my captain and fellow sailors answered the call of duty.”

“And do you feel as though you are fit for duty, Lieutenant?” the King inquired, assessing him with a stern glance that flicked to the brace that covered his blunted wrist. “We’ve been kept apprised of your progress, and it was my understanding you had refused magical assistance.”

“It’s true, Your Majesty,” Killian replied. “I was resistant to it, but I have since relented.”

In his periphery, he saw Liam’s head jerk slightly towards him, his eyes darting to the side as he remained at attention in the presence of their commander and king.

“I see,” the King said, his expression growing pensive as he shared a look with his wife. “And you are adamant in your request to join your captain?”

“I am, Your Majesty.”

“And you, Captain? What have you to say about your Lieutenant’s request?”

“I leave such matters in Your Majesties’ hands,” Liam responded with the diplomacy he’d been taught, until a flicker of something passed over his features and he dared to add, “but there is no other I would rather have by my side whilst completing this mission than my lieutenant.”

Killian fought against the proud grin pulling at his lips and lifted his chin a bit higher as he awaited the King’s response.

King David cast his eyes towards his wife who gave a demure nod before he turned back and stood, surprising the assembled court.

“Then I suppose we have no objection,” he commented. “However, there is something that must be done first…” He held his hand towards a squire stationed next to the platform. The lad approached, a broad sword laying flat across his palms, and presented the weapon to the King who grasped the hilt as he motioned for Killian to step forward.

“Kneel,” King David commanded, and Killian, knowing he was the final deserter of King George’s service who had not undertaken a new oath of fealty, did as he was commanded. The weight of King David’s sword rested against Killian’s shoulder and his eyes never wavered from his sovereigns as he was asked, “Do you, Killian Jones, in good faith and without deceit, pledge your fealty to this kingdom and to the Sovereign Family who governs it? Will you, to the best of your ability, faithfully serve those who may call upon your duty as well as those who are in need of your charity? Do you vow to never cause harm to those to whom you have sworn your allegiance and that you will honor your accords so long as they are honored in kind?”

“I do,” Killian answered tightly, his throat constricted from the swell of emotion rising up within him.

King David lifted his sword and repositioned it to Killian’s other shoulder. “Then in addition to accepting your allegiance, and in accordance with the practices and traditions of this land, I not only recognize your selfless bravery in saving my life, but offer you a boon in addition to my gratitude.”

Killian’s brows pinched together and he felt the tips of ears go red. Other than the Queen’s remarks after he’d regained consciousness, nothing more had ever been mentioned regarding his actions that day in battle. He had simply been doing his duty; never would he have imagined a public ceremony, much less a boon.

“It gives me great pleasure to bestow upon you…” the King continued, his Adam’s apple jumping as he swallowed hard, “The Law of Surprise.”

A flurry of murmurs erupted throughout the throne room. Killian’s lips parted in shock and his brother had to assist him back to standing.

The Law of Surprise. A windfall whose nature is unknown to the parties involved. Whatever treasure or lands or blessing the King had yet to become aware of, but destiny had already designed for him, would actually be Killian’s to claim, the value of which could be innumerable.

Vaguely, Killian was aware of the order that the hall be cleared as the King offered the lieutenant his hand. Accepting the gesture, he managed to croak out a quiet ‘thank you’.

“No. Thank you,” Queen Snow replied warmly, having joined the men from the dais. “Both of you. This Kingdom is forever in your debt.”

“And I am in yours,” King David declared, releasing Killian hands. “Until the Law of Surprise is fulfilled. So…” Reaching into his robes, the King produced a scroll, sealed with the Sovereign stamp. Handing it over to Liam, he continued, “Take all precautions to keep yourselves safe during this mission the Queen and I am tasking you with. These orders are to be kept under seal until you are ready to depart from our shores. We cannot risk anyone finding out.”

“I understand, Your Majesty,” Laim replied, taking the scroll and giving a reverential bow of his head. “Come, little brother,” Liam prompted, slapping Killian on the back. “We have our orders and must ready the Jewel.”

Killian stumbled, his body slow to obey, still too overcome by what had transpired. Bowing to their Majesties, Killian was about to follow his brother out of the hall when the Queen surprised him once again by throwing her arms around him and giving him a tight hug. Words seemed to get caught in her throat for a moment, and Killian sensed there was something she wished to say, but then thought better of it.

When she finally pulled away, she took his hand in hers and imparted, “Take care of one another and return home as quickly as you can.”

“Aye,” Killian answered with one last nod of his head. “Until we meet again, Your Majesty.”

~/~

Awaiting them on the deck of the Jewel was a large trunk with a smaller satchel set atop. Liam gave the order to prepare to set sail, and the crew busied themselves with their tasks, ignoring the parcels as best they could.

Liam motioned Killian towards the captain’s cabin, and once they were below they began to inspect the King’s orders together. Having grabbed the satchel on his way down, Killian opened the latch as his captain broke the sovereign seal on the scrolls.

“Star charts?” Liam murmured, inspecting the first parchment closely. “I've never seen these constellations before.”

“And I’ve never seen markings like this,” Killian added, showing his brother the golden sextant that had been hidden away in the satchel. “To what strange land are we headed?”

Liam set aside the star chart and began to read the official missive. “We're going to a new land, brother,” he said excitedly. “One that requires… a pegasus sail in order to reach it!”

“A Pegasus sail?” Killian replied, incredulously. “Is that what the trunk aboard deck contains?”

“Aye!” Liam answered, his eyes continuing to scan their orders. “A sail woven from the feathers of one of the last remaining pegasus.”

“Legend has it that horse could fly.”

“Indeed.” Liam looked up from the scroll, his eyes as big as saucers. “So can we. Our orders are to fly to this new land and stop King George’s men from obtaining a weapon.”

“What sort of weapon?” Killian snatched the parchent from Liam’s hand and began reading the orders for himself, even as his captain continued to relay them.

“A plant.”

“A plant?” Killian parroted, snidely. “His Majesty wishes us to cross realms for a plant?”

“All King David knows is that George also has a pegasus sail, and plans to use it to send men to obtain that plant, which, according to the fairies, can be used as a weapon capable of terrible destruction.”

“So, what? Does he wish for us to capture the plant for ourselves?” Killian did not much like that plan. He would gladly fight his enemies, but his code demanded he fight fair. The only weapon he knew of that came from plants was poison, and the idea of using such a tactic was underhanded and loathsome. Was it not George’s use of poison against Queen Snow that had caused them to defect from the kingdom of their birth in the first place?

“No,” Liam assured him. “We are to stop George’s men from retrieving it, burn their sail, and once we’ve returned, burn ours as well, so no one can ever venture there again.”

Killian relaxed his posture, relief flooding him, along with a measure of guilt that he’d ever doubted King David and Queen Snow's intentions.

Doubts that were further laid to rest when one of the men called down from the hatch, “Lieutenant! A parcel has arrived for you. From Her Majesty the Queen!”

Both men made their way back up, and Killian took the parcel from the sailor’s hand. It was heavy and odd-shaped, with a letter attached. Handing off the parcel to Liam, so he could open the note, Killian shook out the page and read:

Dear Lieutenant,

Tinkerbelle informed me you had yet to choose an attachment for your brace. I hope you will forgive my presumption, but I thought this might be a suitable option.

The wrapping crinkled as Liam opened the parcel, exposing a shiny, silver hook, the base of which had been refashioned to fit the mechanism within his brace.

It is the very hook you used to strap yourself to that barrel, which ultimately saved your life that day. It is my hope that this hook will bring you the same favor each and every day you wear it, as it did the day you brought favor back into my own life when you first employed it.

Yours,

Queen Snow

The entire ship had gone silent, with only the snapping of the sails and splash of waves against the hull daring to compete with the Queen’s words. Sun gleamed off the surface of the hook, still held in Liam’s hand, and Killian swallowed tightly as he took it in his own. Holding it up, he considered how this seemingly inconsequential piece of equipment had changed the course of his life, and with the Law of Surprise still owed to him by the King, the greatest of those changes were as yet unknown to him. Queen Snow was right. He could think of no other attachment that would be more fitting for whatever the fates might have in store for him.

Positioning the hook into the end of the brace, he gave it a firm turn until it clicked into place, restoring a piece of himself he never thought he’d get back. Clearing his throat, Killian shifted his posture, bringing himself to full height, faced his brother, and asked, “What are your orders, Captain?”

Liam’s eyes filled with pride, but he maintained his composure in the face of their crew. “Deploy the Pegasus sail and begin charting our course, Lieutenant.”

“Aye, aye,” Killian acknowledged before addressing the crew. “Get ready to set sail, mates! Make speed!”

~/~

Killian’s boots sank into the damp sand as he followed Liam up a small hill, heading away from shore. Behind him, the rest of the scouting party fanned out, their eyes cutting through the vegetation ahead for any sign of inhabitants. Dense jungle crept towards them with towering trees and lush ferns obscuring any view they might have into the island's heart. Once they made it to the top of the berm, Liam turned to instruct his men and Killian followed suit. No sooner had Liam opened his mouth than a voice spoke up from right behind them.

“Are you two lost?”

Whirling back around with his sword drawn, Killian was astounded to find an adolescent youth staring at them curiously. Where the devil did he come from?

“You look lost to me,” the boy said with a smirk as he lazily perused the men before him, seemingly undeterred by the many swords pointed his way.

“Identify yourself, boy,” Liam commanded.

“I'm Peter Pan,” the boy stated. With a sweeping hand, he gestured towards the island and added, “I live here. Who are you?

Liam studied the boy for a moment more before sheathing his sword and signaling the rest of the men to do the same. “Captain Jones,” he replied before gesturing towards Killian. “And this is my lieutenant. We're here by order of the king.”

Killian secured his own sword, unnerved by the way the boy’s eyes lingered upon him, especially his hook, before responding to Liam’s statement.

“The king, huh? We don't have any kings in Neverland,” he informed them, then smugly added, “just me.”

“That's funny,” Liam deadpanned whilst pulling a folded piece of parchment from his vest pocket. Shaking it open, he held it up in front of the boy. “We seek this plant.” He gave the boy a moment to look at the drawing. “Now tell us, boy, where can we find it?”

Ignoring Liam’s demand, the boy plucked the parchment from Liam’s hand and inquired, “Your king sent you for this plant?”

“You know it?”

“Dreamshade?” the boy replied, his brows high upon his forehead with a glimmer Killian did not much care for sparking in his eyes. “It's the deadliest plant on the island. Your king is really ruthless.”

“It’s not like that,” Killian countered. “King David sent us here in order to prevent that plant from falling into the ruthless hands of King George. We’re here to safeguard it, not exploit it.”

The boy flicked his eyes up from beneath his brows, and the sinister smile pulling at the corners of his mouth made Killian’s blood run cold.

“Funny,” the boy drawled. “They said the same thing.”

A battle cry rang out from the treeline, followed by the sounds of foliage being snapped and trampled by a dozen or more men rushing from the brush. King George’s men descended without warning, having clearly arrived at the island before them with enough time to set up an ambush. Killian drew his cutlass and threw himself into the fray, clashing swords with an enemy whose blade was smeared with a black, sticky substance he did not recognize.

Though outnumbered, King David’s men were able to make short work of George’s. Killian surmised they must have made land on the opposite side of the island and were therefore already fatigued from their trek through the jungle, giving King David’s men the upper hand. When Killian managed to disarm the opposing captain, his hook pressed against the man’s throat as he gave the order of surrender, George’s remaining men all threw down their weapons and sank to their knees.

“Tie them up,” Killian ordered as he scanned the beach for the treacherous boy who had clearly aided in the ambush. He did not find the little miscreant, but did see his brother wincing at the water line, his hand clamped over his arm as blood oozed from beneath his fingers.

“Liam!” Killian cried, rushing to his brother’s side. “You are wounded!”

“It’s nothing,” Liam said, attempting to wave him off. “Merely a flesh wound.”

Unable to keep his balance, Liam practically fell into Killian, who wasted no time in tucking himself under his captain's arm.

“Starkey!” Killian called out, gaining their bosun’s attention. “See that the prisoners are transported back to the ship in the other dinghy. I’m taking the captain back to tend to his wound.”

“Aye, aye!” Starkey replied, ordering two of their men to accompany the captain and lieutenant back to the Jewel.

By the time Killian managed to get his brother back on board and safely within the captain’s quarters, Liam’s complexion had become sickly pale and his skin clammy. When Killian insisted on seeing the wound, Liam muttered something about Killian fussing like an old woman.

“Let me see!” Killian barked in command, taking his brother aback enough that he complied.

Rolling up his sleeve revealed a nasty gash on his forearm, but more alarming than the blood were the black streaks running along his veins beneath his skin.

“What the devil?” Killian muttered, examining the pattern branching up Liam’s arm.

“I think it was… whatever they had… coated on their… blades,” Liam said, his breathing clearly labored. “Some sort of… poison, perhaps?”

Poison.

“Dreamshade,” Killian exhaled on a panicked breath before launching himself towards the cabinets at the far end of Liam’s cabin. “There must be a cure,” he said, rifling through the bottles of potions and elixirs the fairies had supplied them with. “An antidote or magical healing potion that can--”

“Oh, you won’t find a cure in there,” a voice quipped from behind him.

Spinning around, Killian found himself face to face with the demon boy they’d met on shore. Pan.

“He'll die as soon as the poison reaches his heart.”

His callous tone had Killian seeing red. Grabbing the boy by his tunic, Killian slammed him against the steps that led up to the helm, hook at his throat as he demanded, “Tell me how to save him!”

Pan appeared more amused, excited even, than terrified, and merely hummed before confessing, “There is a way to stop him from dying.”

“Tell me,” Killian snarled, releasing Pan and taking a step back so the boy could procure something from his belt.

“Pixie dust,” Pan stated, holding up a pouch that somehow shimmered despite its dark leather exterior. “Powerful stuff, and easily capable of curing any ill. Even dreamshade.”

Killian reached out to take the pouch, but Pan toyingly pulled it away. “I must warn you,” he said in a tone of mock seriousness. “All magic comes with a price, and this dust is no exception. Don't use it unless you're willing to pay.”

“Whatever the cost. Whatever you want. It's yours,” Killian agreed.

Pan held his gaze for a second more then handed the pouch over. Killian wasted no time. After righting his brother, who was nearly slumped off his chair and unconscious, he pulled the pouch open with his teeth then poured the contents on the festering wound that was nearly black as pitch. The glittering substance shone brightly as it reacted with the poison, forcing Killian to shield his eyes.

“Brother!” Killian shouted, shaking Liam’s shoulders and willing him to wake up. “Brother!”

Jolting awake, Liam sucked in a deep breath and swallowed thickly, his eyes casting about as he got his bearings. “That's captain to you,” he croaked out cheekily when his eyes landed on Killian, attempting to assuage his brother’s concerns. Getting to his feet, he let Killian help stabilize him as he asked, “What happened?”

Relieved to see the ruddy vitality return to his brother’s cheeks and no remnant of the vile dreamshade clogging his veins, Killian chortled, “It doesn't matter. Let's pay the boy and be on our way.”

“What boy?” Liam inquired, prompting Killian to turn circles within the cabin.

“Boy!” he called out, unnerved by the way the brat seemed to appear and disappear into thin air. “What do you want?” he called out again, when suddenly, from overhead, shouts began to bellow on deck.

“Is that…”

The acrid scent hit Killian at the same time as his brother and their heads snapped towards each other as they exclaimed, “Fire!”

Scrambling up the hatch steps, they were met with chaos as the crew floundered helplessly under the flying embers of the pegasus sail, its golden plumage being consumed by flames.

“What is the meaning of this!” Liam shouted. “Who is responsible for--”

“I decided what I wanted,” a now familiar voice stated from behind. “I want this ship and a crew to serve it… and me. That’s my price.”

Dread laced with fury washed over Killian. Stepping forward he towered over the demon boy and through clenched teeth declared, “No. I never agreed to--”

“Whatever the cost. Whatever you want. It's yours,” Pan parroted his own words back to him, a self-satisfied smirk twitching at his lips that made Killian’s blood boil.

“I cannot pay you with something that is not mine to give.” Sweeping his arm out towards the men, he said, “These men’s lives are not mine to barter, and are therefore exempt from having to pay the debt I alone owe.” Casting a glance towards his brother, Killian swallowed hard before turning back to the boy. “It was my brother’s life you spared, so it is my life… my service alone that--”

“No!” Liam shouted. “Killian, don’t be a fool. None of us shall pay such a price.” It was now Liam who loomed over the boy, who appeared as bored as ever. Drawing himself up to full height, Liam commanded, “You may have taken our sail, but that does not leave us without means to leave this place.” Calling out over his shoulder, Liam bellowed, “Lieutenant! Take a contingent of men and retrieve George’s sail. Starkey! Take this miscreant to the brig.”

Killian wanted to argue, unable to shake the feeling of dread the boy’s presence wrought over him, but before he could voice his concerns Pan issued his own warning.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Captain. Your brother made a deal for the island’s magic, and all magic comes with a price. You would be wise to honor the cost.”

“Your cost is too high,” Liam sneered. “I won’t see any of my men forced into your servitude, especially my brother, simply for my sake.”

“Very well, then,” Pan quipped with a shrug. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Liam scoffed and turned his back on the boy. Setting his sights on Killian, who still had not made a move to carry out his earlier order, Liam opened his mouth to issue it again when his face purpled and a choking sound emitted from the back of his throat. Killian watched in horror as his brother collapsed, the sprawling blackness of the dreamshade once again snaking its way up the veins of his neck.

“Liam!” Killian rushed to his brother's side and gathered him in his arms. “No! No, no, no, please!”

“I did warn him,” Pan drawled in a taunting tone. “He should have paid up when he had the chance.”

“Let me pay,” Killian begged. “The deal was struck between us. You and me. I’ll stay in exchange for my brother’s life and our men’s freedom. Save him, return them all to our kingdom, and I’ll remain here. In your service. For as long as you wish.”

“And the ship?”

Killian hesitated. The Jewel wasn’t truly his to give, but surely their Majesties would value the lives of their subjects over a vessel they’d only acquired in battle.

“Aye. The ship as well.”

Crouching down in front of the brothers, Pan’s indifference to the gurgles and gasps of dying breath from the elder sprawled prone in the younger’s embrace only heightened Killian’s terror as the boy stated, “Ten years.”

“What?”

“I want to make sure the terms are clear this time,” Pan clarified. “Ten years of service from you and this ship, with no interference from your brother or your kingdom.” His cold eyes shifted down to Liam’s, which were wide and bloodshot with panic. “If you make any attempt to rescue your brother or take back this vessel, I’ll consider the deal forfeit… as well as your lives. Yours, your brothers, and anyone else who mettles. Deal?”

“Yes,” Killian agreed, desperately. “We have a deal.”

“Captain?” Pan inquired of Liam, who could only nod his consent, though reluctantly. “Excellent.”

With a wave of his hand Liam’s malady was lifted, but before Killian could assist his brother back on his feet, Pan flicked his wrist again and Liam, along with the rest of the crew, disappeared before his very eyes.

“What have you done with them?” Shooting to his feet, Killian grabbed the brat by his tunic and began shaking him violently. “Where have they gone? Tell me!”

“Relax,” Pan replied. “I’m keeping up my end of the bargain.” Turning his head, he nodded towards the far end of the coastline. “There. Your brother, fellow crewmen, and captives are there.”

Killian’s head snapped in the direction of Pan’s gaze, and he loosened his grip on the boy as a ship, King George’s ship, came into view as it rounded the coast. The main sail was not the golden color he’d expected, knowing George’s men had also used a pegasus sail to reach the island. Instead, a sail blacker than night whipped briefly until it caught the winds, billowing out towards the sea.

“What sort of dark magic…” Killian murmured beneath his breath, but the question was cut short when he witnessed the vessel begin to lift out of the waters. Scrambling to get a better view, Killian pulled his spyglass from where it was usually stowed at the helm and peered through the lens. Across the expanse he caught sight of his brother, peering back at him through his own glass. Killian’s heart constricted in his chest. He had not even the chance to say good-bye. Had not been given the opportunity to set his affairs in order. There was so much he'd wished to say, so much he’d wanted his brother to know and to impart upon others who had become important in his life.

Tinkerbelle, the other fairies, Queen Snow, King David. What would they think about the deal he’d struck? What would become of his brother and the other men when they returned without the fleet’s prized vessel? Would they be punished? Demoted? Would his actions become a millstone around their necks for the next ten years?

As the levitated vessel grew smaller and smaller, making its way through the skies, Killian could only pray that the fact that they’d been successful in thwarting George from obtaining dreamshade would be enough to satisfy the king. When at last he lost sight of the ship within the clouds, Killian lowered the spyglass and heaved a despondent sigh while choking back tears. Though he may not know the plight Pan’s service might bring him, nor the response of the king when Liam returned, one thing he did know was Misthaven’s war with King George was far from over, and he would not be there to protect his brother, fight for his sovereigns, or prove he was worthy of the boon the king had already gifted him. A boon that would go unclaimed and unfulfilled.

He supposed he ought to be grateful the Law of Surprise did not work in reverse. He would not wish this misfortune on anyone.

“There, there,” the voice he’d already come to hate patronized. Killian stiffened when the bastard approached, standing beside him and gazing out upon the Neverland waters. “Is it really so bad?”

Killian did not respond. His years of indenture taught him to hold his tongue, and though he was loath to be back in a position of servitude he would shoulder the burden and play the part of compliance, unwilling to give the demon any recourse that might alter their deal and prolong his sentence.

Wiping away the vestiges of the emotional farewell to his former life, Killian straightened his posture and faced his new master. “The ship and I are at your command. What are your orders?”

Pan smiled, a sickening expression that made Killian’s stomach churn, and circled his quarry. “I do have an errand for you, but I’m afraid it must wait until my shadow returns.”

Killian’s brows scrunched in confusion, but he said nothing.

“Until then…” Pan halted his steps and squared himself off with Killian, his hands clasped behind his back as he rolled onto his heels. “I think a makeover is in order. For you and the ship.”

“A makeover?”

“Indeed.” Snapping his fingers, Pan’s smile grew broader as Killian was knocked off kilter. Steading himself, he realized his entire wardrobe had changed. Gone were the crisp white linens and gold embroidered navy wool of his uniform. In their place was a pair of buttery soft black leather pants, a billowing, smoke-hued blouse beneath a silver garnished, corseted leather waistcoat, and an adornment of rings and pendants.

“What the devil?” Flicking his bewildered eyes to Pan, he balked when the boy extended a can of paint and brush towards him.

“Here,” he said. “I’ve seen to your makeover, you can see to the ship’s.”

“And what, exactly, am I to make over?” Killian asked through the tick in his jaw.

“Her name,” Pan declared, as though the answer were obvious. “You no longer sail the Jewel of the Realm,” he informed Killian. “From now until your service has ended, she’ll be known as… The Jolly Roger.”

Killian swallowed the bile creeping up his throat, his fist clenching at his side. “So you mean to make me a pirate.”

Pan’s gaze flicked down to the hook braced at the end of Killian’s left arm, then slowly scanned its way back up. “Oh, I think you and I both know there’s a part of you that’s always been a pirate. Now the exterior and occupation will match the man beneath.”

Anger sparked within him. How dare the little devil associate his hook, gifted to him by the Queen for what it represented to them both, with something as vile and villainous as piracy. “You know nothing about me,” Killian seethed.

“Perhaps not,” Pan shrugged. “But we’ve ten long years together. I imagine we’ll come to know one another quite well by the end of this… arrangement.” Setting the paint at Killian’s feet, Pan’s tone hardened. “Ready your ship, Captain. It’s a pirate’s life for you. For the next ten years at least.”

Killian balked at the boy’s sudden disappearance, then gave himself a moment to come to terms with all the demon had said. He was right. For better or worse, this is the deal he had struck. Picking up the can and brush, Killian made his way to the bow and with a heavy heart, rechristened the Jewel.

Later that evening, with the ship’s main sail infused by a spectre Pan referred to as his shadow, it was not the Jewel of the Realm that departed Neverland. No. The Jolly Roger set sail to complete her first mission. A mission to transport orphaned, abandoned, and truant boys from a lawless place called Pleasure Island back to Neverland. A mission carried out not by Lieutenant Killian Jones of Their Majesties’ Royal Navy of Misthaven, but by the blackguard who would come to be known as the scourge of the seas, a villain whose soul would be described as being as black and depraved as the sail he hoisted. The fearsome and reviled pirate, Captain Hook.

Part Two 

Tagging the Curious Crew: (add to tag list)

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