#hes sworn so much more than killian

[snowbellewells]

Self Promo Sunday: "The Belle Dame Emma"

This short MC fic was my @cssns21 entry, and I tried my hand at a fae version of Emma and a knight version of Killian with it. It took a fair amount of inspiration from the classic Keats poem "La Belle Dame sans Merci", the lines at beginning and end of the chapters are from the poem, as well as from my desire to explore the Dark Swan idea from a different angle, with more of Emma's fighting back against those tendencies as we saw at first. At any rate, as I am going back through my @cssns contributions, I was excited to find this one next. I hope you will enjoy this if you didn't see it back then, and even if you did, maybe you will enjoy it again...

Summary: Legend has it that the fae woman in the meadow will ensnare any who dare enter her domain, but the knight who chances a meeting can tell there is more to the story than superstition and gossip has allowed. The path to the truth and redemption may be fraught with dangers - to the both of them - but is it not the sworn duty of a true knight to help any who may be in need?

**Thanks a million once more to @caught-in-the-filter who made the gorgeous cover art for this fic! I absolutely love it! **

{Also available on AO3, if that is your preference}

by: @snowbellewells

Part One

I met a lady in the meads,

Full beautiful - a faery’s child,

Her hair was long, her foot was light,

And her eyes were wild.

Some folks say that she was always malevolent. Born to beguile and lure the unworthy to their doom. The fae, after all, were not to be trifled with, and those who dared do so learned their lesson at high cost.

The whispers around the fog-wisped edges of her meadow haunt, the word spoken as warning with anxious glances over the shoulder, was that her beauty was matched only by her fury. That she was possessed with a thirst to punish those who would be lured by her fair form and bewitching song. Those who were wise came to skirt wide around those fallow fields in that sparsely populated corner of the kingdom, for it was said that even those of stoutest resolve and pure intentions found this powerful nymph - be it by her face alone or some magic she wielded to draw them into her web - nigh impossible to resist.

Some retellings of her legend had her thrown from the sparkling court of the fair folk for her cruel and deviant nature. Others claimed she possessed more power and magic than any single faery had before her, and it had simply been too much - bending her better nature into madness. Still other storytellers would paint her more as a tragic sacrifice. The Fae Folk must have one who punished those unworthy of their own kind, as well as the humans who got too close to discovering their kingdom’s gates or who would dare to upset the fragile balance of peace between the two species - who might dare to think themselves equal to, and attempt to win the heart of, a faery. She was simply the one chosen to mete out these judgements. A Guardian and a Gatekeeper, as it were.

And though there is often a grain of truth to any rumor, very rarely do such stories paint their characters as they truly are. Not in full. And the ballad of awe and fear told of the beautiful, but deadly, lady Emma - La Belle Dame Sans Merci - was just such a tale. The whispers bore fragments of reality, but could not explain it all. Though she was not blameless, she was not completely lost. Perhaps there only needed to be some small spark of light, some reason for her to look within for any shred of mercy she might still possess.

~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~

The wind rushed across his forehead, lifting the strands of his dark hair from his heated skin pleasantly and ruffling his steed’s mane before dancing on to bend the grasses along the quiet roadside and tug at the leaves on nearby trees. It was a pleasant morning to be about, though the way seemed strangely untraveled since his turn-off at the last crossroad. Killian Jones, knight-at-arms, found he didn’t truly mind the peacefulness and lack of fellow travelers, enjoying the sounds of breeze and birdsong and mulling his own thoughts. Though adventure, daring battle, and quests of honor made his blood pound with vigor, causing excitement to tingle in his nerve endings and a sense of fulfillment in being where he was needed and doing what he must flooded his being, he could admit if only to himself on this placid afternoon, that he sometimes still wondered if there was more.

He certainly did not wish to change his profession. He would never be happy as a blacksmith, farmer, or tradesman; anything so mundane, necessary as those roles were, would never satisfy him for long. And yet, he had begun to feel the weight of many battles, the lives he had held in his hands, and the blood he could sometimes still see behind closed eyelids, had begun to haunt him. If there was always another fight, another enemy to vanquish, more violence and death and Darkness, were they making any difference? Was a glimmer of the light they fought for shining through, or were they merely treading water, waiting to be subsumed?

It was what had brought him to this quiet roadside meadow alone, rather than back on the high road with his fellows, moving on to the next castle and the next foe they needed to vanquish. He had called out that he would rejoin them further down the road; it was not unusual for one of them to split off on some personal venture from time to time. It was a life of constant movement, never truly being at ease or settling anywhere, and yet it made sense that sometimes one would need to pause, linger, and think for a moment where it was still and inviting enough to do so.

Killian knew he had traveled in this corner of the kingdom before - though it had been some time back. He did not remember the way this road had curved and twined, becoming narrowed and more removed from the larger surroundings as it followed a trickling brook along its way. The sounds of the village some miles back now, of other travelers whom he had not seen for some time, even the rustling of leaves and grasses and the twittering of the birds seemed to fade. A stillness encircled him such as he had never experienced before. It might have been unnerving if he had not been seeking quiet and peace to think, answers for the questions that troubled him. His mount danced fitfully on occasion, tossing his shaggy black head as if ill at ease, but Killian found he was too entranced, too breathlessly curious to turn back now. Plus, Shadow was a spirited animal and his fitfulness did not truly alarm his rider. There was a reason only Killian seemed able to handle him. 

The brooke, and the path following it, both turned again sharply, and Killian ducked to ride under the low-hanging branch of a tree, and when he sat back up in his saddle once more, the sight around that bend brought him up short. The creek came to a stop at last, running into a still pond, dark and motionless, and on the far side of the pond was some sort of cave, its mouth wide open as if beckoning those brave enough to explore. Flowers grew strewn through tall grasses, and all of it was waving soundlessly in the breeze like a beckoning sea.

Again, Killian found he was almost mystified by his own impulse to dismount and come closer. To seek out every secret corner of this meadow hideaway. He knew well enough not to venture into dark and unknown caves and underground passages, and yet the pull was nigh irresistible. He stood in wonderment, taking it all in as he stroked Shadow’s nose, soothing the restless gelding.

“What is it, lad?” Killian murmured to his horse, scratching behind its ears and trying to keep a firm grip on the reins as the creature continued to shuffle and toss its head.

Suddenly, the knight sensed he and his steed were no longer alone, a strong scent of apple blossoms and sweet honey stirred on the breeze and a chill ran over his skin, making the small hairs on his arms stand on end.

A dulcet, hypnotic voice spoke on the horse’s other side, a delicate feminine hand stroking over the animal’s nose caused Shadow to calm instantly. “Perhaps,” it offered subtly, “he knows something you do not.”

Killian had never known Shadow to gentle for anyone else; the creature rarely grew that still even for him, and the chill which had run through him a moment before now shivered down his spine. “And what might that be?” he questioned stoutly, not allowing any of his trepidation to show in his tone. “And who are you and what might you know of it?”

A form so fair, so ethereally bright and beautiful that he knew immediately she must be more than human, stepped into view from the other side of his horse. Long, glowing golden hair hung to her waist, twined with buttercups and bluebells, her feet were bare and gracefully shaped, her eyes a verdant green he wanted to fall into like a thick carpet of clover and grass, and the slight tilt of her voluptuously shaped pale pink lips somehow seemed to hint she already knew she had entranced him. The lady who had materialized there in the meadow at his side was breathtaking; her smile serene and inviting, her voice low and melodic, drawing him to lean in closer to hear what she would say next.

“Do you not hear strange tales of this place, warning travelers to be on their guard?” she tilted her head slightly, studying him as if bemused.

“I am a knight of the Realm, milady,” he replied, “Sworn to go where others may fear to tread, to protect the helpless and vanquish dangers wherever they might be. Seldom am I in one place long enough to hear all the local legends and superstitions, but even so, I would not let such talk turn me from my duty.”

That pale, lovely face continued to meet his own gaze head-on, not doubting, but merely watching as if weighing his response and gauging the sincerity of his words. Humming lightly to herself, she stepped away from him and Shadow, turning towards the pond’s smooth surface, almost as if taking for granted that he would follow.

Killian found to his chagrin that he had blindly followed two strides in her wake before realizing he had done so. Glancing back over her shoulder with arched brow and genuine question in her tone she asked, “Your duty brought you here then?”

Dipping his chin slightly toward the metal armor that covered his chest, Killian offered her a slight show of respect. He was not sure just where he had wandered, if he was trespassing on some royal land and this was some trick to ensnare him in wrongdoing, if he had wandered into some sort of enchanted space and she was a siren risen from the depths, or perhaps she was their next evil wizard or monster to fight, taking on a disguise of fair form to spy upon them and learn their weaknesses. As much as he felt a pull toward her and wanted to stay there speaking with her, there was at the same time a warring sense of unease in his being. The day was wearing on, he had yet to make arrangements for the night, and he had given his word to find his fellows once more as well.

“That I do not yet know,” he finally replied. “I broke off from a larger company at the last bend in the road. This meadow was so peaceful and inviting, and I suppose curiosity led me further as much as anything.”

For a time neither spoke, and Killian noticed for the first time that all other sounds had ceased as well. The rustling of the leaves and grasses, the birdsong and the plash of the brook into the larger pool were all muted; every bit of their surroundings gone strangely still. He knew it impossible, but for a moment it seemed as if he were frozen in a still life, unmoving, unblinking, like a statue carved in stone.

The beautiful vision stared into the water silently, so long and so deeply he wondered if she had forgotten his presence. Killian did not know whether to address her further or to turn and go, nor was he certain that his feet would move to turn from her if he did attempt to leave.

As eerily still as all was around him, he felt more concern in that instant that he had upset her, troubled or disturbed her somehow with his presence or his answers to her questions. Urging Shadow forward, he came to stand beside the mysterious lady once more, reaching out a hand meant to soothe or comfort.

But before he could make contact she whirled to meet him, her face a mask of pained struggle, her eyes wide and alarmed and so much darker than the jeweled green they had been before. Her voice was harsher, rough as she screeched for him to stand back, to get away from there. He didn’t understand the transformation, but he could see she was nearly vibrating with tension, trembling as if some force wanted to burst from her and she could scarcely hold it back. What had been a gentle breeze now howled about them, and the still pond was whipped into choppy waves. Killian stumbled back, dumbstruck, uncertain what was happening.

The idyllic beauty of his surroundings and the pleasant stranger before him had been changed instantaneously. None of the calm tranquility or gentle smiles which had lured him further in lingered now, and the enthralling vision before him now radiated tension and warning, her voice still rasping as if dragged over glass, saying that he must flee, she could only hold back so long.

Nearly as confused as he was alarmed or frightened, Killian shook his head, anxious to clear it of the doubt swirling through - had he imagined everything before? Or was he imagining things now? The anguish on that fair brow was enough to send him away for the moment, the pale maiden well on her way to enchanting him looked stretched to her limits, beseeching him to leave while he was still able. The chilvalrous knight he was fought against leaving such a one in pain or distress, but he also knew that he did not understand the situation, did not know all that was needed to act wisely.

And so, reluctantly, he swung up into Shadow’s saddle, his steed at least feeling no qualms about leaving. The beast tossed his head and wheeled to gallop off at the first mere prodding, hide quivering as he carried his rider back the way they had come in haste.

Killian, for his part, felt compelled to look back. For a moment, he could still see her form, curling in on herself slightly as she seemed to double over, and growing ever smaller in his view. The whole vista seemed to waver, partially obscured by a rising haze, until he could not have pointed out exactly where it had been.

Soon after, Shadow had carried them back to the main road, and Killian urged him to turn back onto it, to once more find his fellows, quite possibly in the next small village. Yet, though he appeared safely back on course, Killian could not forget what he had seen and heard… haunted by the face of the troubled maiden.

~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~

The faery, Emma, sagged in relief as the knight finally rode from view. She was breathlessly grateful for the mist which rose up from the surface of the pool, and the very air itself, now heavy and charged and hiding her from view, where before it had been so fresh and light with Spring. No wonder the man had been drawn to the small oasis. With the flowers and cool breeze and sparkling waters, her hidden grotto was made to be inviting, dangerously appealing. As was she herself - in form and face - or so she had been told when the curse was placed upon her.

Sinking to her knees in the tall grass, the thin blades and the faces of the daisies both brushed her skin if trying to offer comfort, Emma panted rapidly in effort to regain her breath. She had managed to hold it back, the dark power which had been twined with the natural light fae magic inside her. Her song, once capable of brightening skies, coaxing plants to blossom, and raising spirits that were broken or bowed, now would ensnare and entwine those same lost souls who might cross her path, draining them and never allowing them to leave.

One solitary tear slipped down her cheek as her breathing calmed and she contemplated the change wrought upon her being against her will. It kept her even from her own kind; loved ones who might ease the hurt and loneliness. For she did not know for certain if they were immune to the strange siren call she had been infected with, and she could not bear to risk such folly. It was horrifying enough to have almost trapped and harmed the handsome stranger who had stumbled upon her hideaway, but she would not surve being the death of one she loved.

Sadly, Emma finally managed to stand again, making her way slowly back to the mouth of the cavern where she spent so much of her time hidden away from the trees and flowers, the sunshine and fair breezes and springtime that she loved for fear of her curse withering it all and destroying others who wandered near, appreciating the same beauty of which she had once been the caretaker. Folly it had been to venture out today, and yet she had been unable to help herself, needing to see and smell and touch the bounty she had been denied. Then it had seemed the knight had just appeared.

Those eyes… a new sort of pang in her heart twinged at the reflection. They had been so blue, searching and deep, as pristine and sparkling as the waters before her and seeking to understand as if he sensed her pain. What an idea! Emma shook her head, wrapping her arms around herself to ward off the frail hope. That could lead nowhere but disaster for the both of them. A proud, strong young life cut down for no reason if he did return. She was not sure exactly how her powers would snare him in thrall, drain him of life, only that the dark and twisted caster had proclaimed it would be so. She had managed to hold the welling of destructive energy she could feel rising within herself until the man had gone. And normally she managed to stay hidden well enough, removed from all others, that she did not chance unleashing it.

What had drawn her to this one? Caused her to show herself? Why had it almost seemed as if the knight could sense something was wrong? She did not know, and it troubled her, but there was no one to ask for advice. Quite possibly no answers to be had at all. She knew no other faery who had been punished in such a manner.

Turning to slink back into her cavern, Emma’s shoulders slumped. She certainly couldn’t risk being seen again this day; her strength was far too diminished to fight the poison surging to escape if any other hapless being discovered her. Such a horrible, unending punishment, for an unknowing, well-intended mistake, her spirit railed fruitlessly once again. How could she have known that bestowing her innocent heart in love would bring her here?

I made a garland for her head,

And bracelets too, and fragrant zone;

She looked at me as she did love,

And made sweet moan.

Tagging a few who might enjoy: @jennjenn615 @kmomof4 @searchingwardrobes @laschatzi @whimsicallyenchantedrose

@jrob64 @apiratewhopines @anmylica @xarandomdreamx @booksteaandtoomuchtv

@donteattheappleshook @elizabeethan @the-darkdragonfly @tiganasummertree @optomisticgirl

@spartanguard @therooksshiningknight @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @stahlop

@xsajx @bluewildcatfanatic @kday426 @superchocovian @jonesfandomfanatic

@motherkatereloyshipper @gingerchangeling @gingerpolyglot @lfh1226-linda @linda8084

@winterbaby89 @hollyethecurious @darkcolinodonorgasm @myfearless-love @undercaffinatednightmare

@belovedcreation @ultraluckycatnd @drowned-dreamer @ineffablecolors @goforlaunchcee

[satansapostle6]

love and blood | killian jones

The course of history is changed forever when a ruggedly charming pirate’s fate is intertwined with that of a dark sorceress more powerful than any he had ever encountered.

Warnings: Violence. Mature themes/language. Sexual content.

II. The Witch

III. Bloodlines

Hook and the respective Queen sat across from one another at a table that clearly hadn’t been in use in years, at the very least. There was a feast prepared as Hook helped himself to, not having eaten anything substantial in over a week. Carmella sat silent at her end of the table, watching him with narrowed eyes.

“What?” Hook stopped, putting down the turkey leg, “You don’t eat?”

“Not in the traditional sense,” she said in a low murmur.

All Hook thought was that she was very strange. But as a sorceress with such unknown origins she may as well have been a god, he knew not to question her many quirks and oddities. Hook stopped eating once again, unable to concentrate as she sat across from him, doing nothing but drinking from a crystal glass of wine-colored liquid, something he could only hope was wine.

“Are all you witches this beautiful?” Killian Jones demanded impatiently.

“Am I that alluring?” Carmilla asked with a bored tone of voice.

“Don’t flatter yourself, I’m not some schoolgirl,” he scoffed, “It’s just… I’m trying to eat, and you’re too bloody distracting. Your eyes are like black diamonds, and your hair’s like the feathers of some beautiful bird.”

His words were poetic, but spoken with pure repulsion.

“I’ve received many compliments in my time,” Carmilla said reminiscently. “But the best ones have been out of spite.”

“How old are you, anyway?” Hook asked, returning to his plentiful meal.

“You know that’s not polite to ask,” Carmilla tsked humorously.

“You’re a witch. You’re powerful. The stories about you here… they go back years,” Hook recalled. “I don’t know if there have been other queens like you… But they seem to go back decades. Centuries, even. But you don’t look a day over twenty,” he thought aloud.

“I’m twenty-five,” Carmilla provided ironically.

“How long have you been twenty-five?” Killian asked pointedly.

She just shrugged. “Some time now.”

“How long?” he persisted.

“Fairly long.”

“Fuck you,” Hook scoffed, tiring from the games, “How long?”

Carmilla looked up at him sharply, as she contemplated whether to kill him for his disrespect, or humor him.

“I stopped counting years ago. But, as far as I know, I’m at least a thousand years old,” she supplied, sipping from her glass.

Hook was taken aback by her age. Although he would’ve expected to be frightened or appalled, he found his initial reaction to be pity for her, for having lived so long past her human lifespan.

“Magic has kept you alive that long?” he realized.

Carmella nodded. “It isn’t easy. But yes.”

“What do you have to do?” Hook asked.

“Multiple intricate rituals,” she explained. “Many of them… taxing.”

“But not for you, I’m assuming?” Hook gathered.

Carmilla said nothing, and gingerly sipped from her glass once again. But eventually, she did choose to speak.

“I have been alive for… at least a thousand years,” she said. “And I have been alone for almost as much. I never used to mind it before. But, now… It’s starting to get to me.”

“Is it?” Hook remarked with surprise.

“You try living up here, alone, for a thousand years and see how you fare,” she reminded him with a raised eyebrow.

“Point taken,” Hook assured her. “But, didn’t you have family once?”

“Once. Yes,” she told him.

“What happened to them?” Hook wondered. “Did they die out?”

“Yes,” Carmilla nodded, her eyes fixed on nothing as she glared with hate. “In a most gruesome way.”

“What happened to them?” Hook asked gently.

Even if it was for a split second, he could’ve sworn he saw a glimpse of something real in her cold and empty eyes, whether it be humanity, or pure rage.

“They were massacred. At least a thousand years ago,” she remembered.

“By who?”

“Witches,” she stated.

“But, aren’t you a witch?” Hook reasoned, not understanding.

“A very rare class of witch, yes,” she agreed.

“You’re not a normal witch?” he tried to follow along.

“Not quite. You see, there are many different kinds of magic, each with their own unique elements… Some are more difficult to master than others. I was born into a coven, you know. A bloodline of powerful sorcerers,” Carmilla offered. “Blood magic… was a gift passed down from generation to generation in my family.”

“That isn’t just wine you’re drinking… Is it?” Hook deducted.

Carmilla made it a point not to answer the question.

“Our abilities were marveled… coveted. A thousand years ago, the witches stormed our palace, and massacred my family. It was ugly. A genocide. Not even our army could stop them all.”

“Sounds horrible,” Hook said sympathetically.

“It was,” Carmilla agreed. “Until I rose to the occasion… Too little, too late.”

“What happened?” he asked, invested in the story.

“Much blood was spilt. Ours. Theirs… It was impossible to know who won by the end of it.”

“That’s awful,” Hook hoped that would suffice.

“Indeed it was. Why do you think this place is called the Land of Blood?” Carmilla looked at him with pain and disgust in her eyes. “This palace… It was awash with blood that night. I was a lone survivor. Our population barely survived. Those who remained named this place the ‘Forbidden Palace’. Charming moniker,” she scoffed.

“Why do they call it that?” Killian inquired.

“They believed it to be haunted. The locals would say you could still hear the screams at night,” she responded, an air of melancholy to her voice.

“Those screams,” he realized, searching her features for any sort of discernible emotion. “They didn’t belong to a bunch of ghosts… did they?” he confronted her with his empathetic disposition.

Carmilla shook her head. “No.”

*****

After the quiet dinner, Hook followed Carmilla around her empty estate, trailing behind the luxurious fabric of her dress bunching around her heels. His eyes settled upon the dark satin of the dress, hungry for both its rich extravagance, as well as what was beneath it.

“Come,” Carmilla beckoned, turning just before the stairs.

She offered him her hand as her pet raven perched itself on her shoulder, looking back at him in tandem with her, the way a human would. Killian Jones looked down at the sorceress’s hand, entranced by her long, claw-like fingernails that she had painted black to mask their unpleasant red stain.

“Where are you taking me?” Hook grinned, accepting the soft hand. “Bedroom?”

Carmilla was not amused. “Low-hanging fruit. But yes. I have something to show you.”

“I knew you’d come to your senses,” he retorted, following her eagerly.

The sorceress led him to her chambers, atop the highest tower of the castle. She waved her hand and the door opened automatically, allowing her to lead him to her vanity. Carmilla sat in front of the mirror, opening a small, ornate trinket box to reveal what looked like a single glass bead.

“What is that?” Hook asked her as she held the trinket gently in the palm of her hand.

“A remnant. From a different time,” she told him, as the raven bowed its head to examine the object. “It’s my last one.”

“What is it? What does it do?” Hook asked her.

“It’s a magic bean. It’s how we’ll travel between realms…”

“And that’s where you keep it?” he stared, watching her put it back in the little box.

“This is enchanted, sweetheart, I couldn’t let someone take this if I wanted,” Carmilla reminded him. “This will take us back to your realm. There, we’ll find more of these.”

“How?”

“That man you spoke to?” Carmilla said. “He’s got more.”

“You’re certain of that?” Hook clarified.

“Oh, yes. Col and I knew him well. If he’s searching for the Blue Scroll… That means he’s got everything he needs.”

“Col? You knew Col?” Hook realized, finally having a real answer to that question.

“Oh, yes,” the witch chuckled darkly.

“What happened to him?” Hook asked in response.

Carmilla looked at him with a soft smile, lightly turning her head to her left shoulder where the raven sat listening.

“He’s right here,” the sorceress said simply.

“He—That’s Col?” Hook pointed, staring at the bird.

“Yes. It is,” she confirmed his suspicion.

“But I thought you were the only survivor,” Killian pointed out.

“Col here was the exception,” Carmilla cooed, gently stroking his shiny black coat with a single finger. “He survived that night, but was cursed by a witch. In my rage, I ripped her heart out of her chest and sank into it with my teeth… But I didn’t realize that meant my chances of lifting the curse were even slimmer. It’s been many years. Somehow no spell or ritual has been strong enough to bring him back to me.”

Hook watched, his face twisted with sympathy, as the bird gave a meek squawk, sniffing at her with its beak as she did her best to give it some form of sad eskimo kiss.

“The sorcerer. He told me to find Col,” Hook said. “Did he mean in this state?”

“Dunstan may be clever, but his intel is always outdated,” Carmilla sighed.

“Dunstan?” he repeated in disbelief. “That’s his name?”

“‘Dunstan the Dunce’ he’s called,” she nodded, “Yes.”

“He seems quite the character,” Hook commented.

“Even mages need a village idiot,” she stated. “But I digress. It’s not Dunstan we should be worried about. It’s him employer.”

“Who does he work for, then?”

“A former student of mine,” Carmella answered bitterly. “She was present that night. Wasn’t she, Col?”

Hook looked upon her with curiosity as he heard a loud and disagreeable squawk. Both of their feelings were quite clear.

“This witch… She’s survived as long as you?” he calculated.

“No,” Carmilla scoffed with laughter, “She could never. At least not as efficiently. No. She’s from this time, I’m afraid. Although she was descended from the witch who did this to my poor Col. And that massacre on my family… Just a result of her misguided attempt to outshine her master.”

“You’re saying she went back in time to kill you?” Hook rationalized.

She nodded. “See, pirate, my disciples have a tendency to try and best me. Please don’t perpetuate the cycle, or else I’ll have your heart.”

Killian nodded slowly, beginning to understand her bedside manner, which could be described as ‘lacking’ at best.

“You can trust me, your majesty,” he assured her. “I have no desire to fuck you over. Over a counter, maybe…”

Carmilla shot him a look as they were interrupted by Col’s loud cries. Hook squinted in confusion at the bird.

“What’s his problem?” he asked her.

“Mainly that he was my husband,” Carmilla provided, seeing the look of embarrassment on Hook’s face.

They were once again interrupted by another loud screech from the raven.

“But, he also doesn’t like your coat,” she remarked, petting the bird to soothe it.

Hook gave the bird a pitiful stare, realizing just how lonely the two of them must have been after all this time.

“Relax. I know he’s not my husband anymore,” Carmilla promised, gently petting the raven. “But I’ll protect what’s left of him.”

“I know the feeling,” Hook admitted.

“Truth be told, I’m not worried about you betraying me,” Carmilla confessed, “At least, not any more worried than I’d be about a butterfly betraying me.”

She looked at him for a moment, chuckling at the thought.

“You have no family.”

“My crew was my family,” Killian insisted.

“Please. Those simpletons?” she thought. “They could hardly hold a conversation with you. What makes you think they could’ve cared for you as you cared for them?”

“Well, now I wouldn’t say I cared…” Hook mumbled.

“You did,” Carmilla informed him with a nod, not accepting criticism. “But that’s alright. It’ll be our secret.”

Hook nodded silently, accepting her bargain.

-

IV. Dark Ones

[lunapriestess]

The Moonlight || Killian Jones x Reader

Chapter 4: Captain on Deck

Also Available on Wattpad

After finding yourself in Storybrooke seeking a new adventure, your life gets flipped upside down after you find out that your new-found visions are more powerful than you could imagine. All you know is that an adventure in the moonlight is coming and for whatever reason, Killian Jones was at the heart of it.

A/N: I truly am having so much fun writing this. I hope you all enjoying the ramblings in my brain too.

By the time Emma and Regina had gotten to me, I was sitting on one of the chairs outside Granny’s; luckily enough, the weather had held up, which meant I could bask in the sunlight a little longer before whatever was coming arrived on our shores. Regina was the first to greet me, in only the way she knew how to greet me.

“What the hell is going on (y/n)!?” She shouted as she rushed over to Henry’s side. “What happened to those quirky little visions? Why are you suddenly blacking out in the middle of an art class with my son?” Her tongue cut through me, but I knew it was over concern for Henry. Her sharpness was met with childish rebellion from Henry, who was trying to stick up for me. 

“Well, you know,” I said to her, “I just had a little ‘magical moment’, I guess?” I laughed as I used Gold’s phrasing from earlier that day. It didn’t land well, and I was met with Regina’s death stare and Emma’s concerned eyes. I should have known better than to try and crack a joke. 

“Honestly, I’m fine.” I continued. “There was a bug, I thought it was one that Snow had been warning us about, and Henry was going to touch it, so I stopped him. It wasn’t what I thought, or I wouldn’t be sitting here, would I?” I shrugged as I looked over at Henry’s smiling face. That boy had the purest heart; I wasn’t about to let him ruin it over some dumb little bug. 

“It was a beetle Ms (y/l/n). A beetle my son had splattered blue paint on!” Regina was upset, and Emma placed her hand on her shoulder to calm her down.

“What Regina is trying to say, (y/n), is thank you for looking out for our son.” Emma smiled at me whilst Regina rolled her eyes at the sentiment. “Either way, we need to know. What is it you saw?” Emma made her way around the table and sat in the empty seat next to me, her eyes fixated on mine as if she was trying to solve a puzzle. Her saviour mentality.

“Their course changed; they’re heading into town now” My worried tone came out frantically. “I’d say we have an hour at tops before they dock.” My hand instinctively reached into my pocket, where I kept the photo of the dangerously enticing man. If I knew it wasn’t terror in my veins, I could have sworn that there were butterflies in my stomach. The whole situation was maddeningly exciting as I stood up to walk into the high street again. By this point, our little group had been met by Snow and David, who had just dropped Neal off with Belle. 

We stood in a group formation, staring down the street and towards the ocean. There, on the horizon, sat the boat from my picture. I pulled my notebook from my bag and held up the drawing from the night before as a comparison. This was it, the Jolly Roger.

“Send word to our friends,” Snow spoke softly to one of her dwarfs. “This could be a blood bath. We haven’t seen Killian in years, and there is no telling what mood he will be in.” The dwarf nodded and scurried off into the outskirts of town, followed by a few of his comrades. Everyone seemed so concerned, and everyone seemed to know him. I met Emma’s gaze as I turned to look at her. She also seemed worried. What was so bad about Killian Jones other than the fact he was a pirate? After a moment of pause, we all started moving in a silent agreement down towards the docks.

Now, I know I’m no sailor, but as the boat approached the dock, it was clear that it was more extensive and majestic than most. Its wooden stature was more magnificent than my visions gave it credit for. As it grew closer, Emma and Regina stepped in front of myself and Henry. It was like they were trying to protect their child and me. They knew more than they were letting on. I would have to talk to them about that once this calmed down.

Shouting from the crews that sounded similar to my vision the night before filled the air as men jumped from the ship's side to tie it into place. If they’re pitching up, this wasn’t going to be a flying visit. I found it difficult to see past the blockade that Emma and Regina had put in front of me. Above the distinct chatter, I hear the red-hatted man call out to the crew.

“Captain on deck! Make yourselves look busy, men!” Smee’s voice was loud and instantly pushed the chatter into silence. It was almost as if a pin could be heard dropping, or in this case, a pirate dropping onto dry land.

“Well, isn’t this a sight for sore eyes?” He gestured his hook out at the two women in front of him, Emma holding a ball of light in her hands and Regina holding a ball of fire in hers. “Now, now, Swan… Your Majesty. This is surely no way to greet an old friend and his crew,” he laughed as he took another step forward.

“Not another step, pirate”, Regina warned as she turned her fireball towards the Jolly Roger. “One blast of this and that hunk of driftwood is going up in flames.” She smirked as Killian's crew reached for their weapons. Killian quickly ushered the men to put down their swords and raised his hand and hook above his head. 

“We’re not here to cause trouble”, Killian stated, and from somewhere behind me, I heard David laugh followed by a quick thud which I could only imagine was Snow shushing him. “We’re here to seek refuge for a couple of nights”, He continued. I desperately wanted to see this man's face, but I was too scared to move. I let myself stretch my legs for a moment since they had been locked up in tension which immediately brought too much attention to the deadly silent situation. 

“Now, who’s that your hiding behind you?” Killian questioned with his head slightly tilted. Intrigue filled his tone while Emma and Regina grew more defensive. “Worried they’ll fall in love with my devilishly handsome good looks and think I’m a good guy?” He joked as Emma and Regina relaxed and parted slightly, leaving me frozen like a deer in the headlights staring at the man from the picture. Killian Jones. 

He was as handsome as I had thought, and those beautiful blue eyes torched the fire of terror and butterflies from within me again. He’s like a forbidden fruit I know I just can’t have. A tremendous, beautiful mess. 

“Well, hello there, love”, he whispered as he tried to saunter closer to me. His movements caused my two protectors to light up their flames again. Killian smiled a smug look before turning his attention back to me. “A visitor in Storybrooke. How strange. Tell me, love, what’s your name?” I stood for a moment, frozen. Emma gave me a slight nod of reassurance.

“I’m (y/n). (y/n)(y/l/n)” I spoke very matter-of-factly, but it was clear there was fear in my voice. Fear or butterflies, that is, I still couldn’t tell. Killian looked at me as if I should have more to say, putting me under the pressure of those burning eyes. “It’s a beautiful ship,” I said as I turned to look at the Jolly Roger. This caused Killian’s brow to furrow deeply.

“She”, He started while putting extra pressure on the word. “She is a beautiful ship indeed” He smiled as he patted the side of the Roger. “And that, ladies and gentle-dwarfs, is how you greet a pirate.” He winked at me, and this time, my heart set alight; this wasn’t terror, this was butterflies, and I had got them bad. “We all know the way to a pirate's heart is through his ship. Flattery will get you everywhere (y/n)” he winked again and then turned his attention back to the two guardians on either side of me. “Look, queenie, saviour. Give us a week in port with my Roger as collateral. If we so much as damage this little town, the Roger is yours”

Regina and Emma looked at each other for a moment before silently agreeing. 

“Fine. One week. You can stay at Grannies. Don’t drink us out of rum,” Emma reluctantly agreed before the small group of townsfolk parted to let the crew through. As Killian walked past me, his eyes never left mine, and I could have sworn I felt a spark between us. Not a romantic spark… an electric one. One that felt exactly what it felt like to touch the inky blob in the vision. This can’t be happening. Gold can’t be right; this can’t be some long-foretold prophecy. I was born in a land without magic; there's no way I can be someone that's been foretold. I glanced at Emma and Regina, who could feel the energy the magic between Killian and me gave off. None of us knew what was happening, and we were scared.

[hookedonapirate]

Lady Cassidy's Lover

Summary: 1919 England, Emma Cassidy, wife of a baronet, finds herself trapped in a loveless marriage after the war leaves her husband, Neal, paralyzed from the waist down and unable to produce an heir.

Despite the obstacles, she sticks by her husband's side at Goldby Hall, his family's estate, but when she meets former army lieutenant and Neal's aloof gamekeeper, Killian Jones, she feels curiously drawn to his distant blue eyes and quiet demeanor.

At first, she seeks him out for reprieve from her soulless, mundane existence at Goldby Hall, but what starts out as purely physical quickly turns into more than either of them expects.

But Emma is a baronetess, wife of an aristocrat and Killian is a working class servant. Their love affair is frowned upon, and she risks losing her title, her wealth and her position in the world by being with him. But she is determined to get her happy ending with the man she loves. Even if it means losing everything else in the process.

A/N: Thank you @ultraluckycatnd and for looking this over and for being amazing!

Hope you all enjoy!

Catch up: Ch 1 I Ch 2 I Ch 3 I Ch 4 I Ch 5 I Ch 6 I Ch 7 I Ch 8 I Ch 9 I Ch 10 I Ch 11 I Ch 12 I Epilogue

Also on: AO3

Chapter Five

Killian watches as Lady Cassidy disappears into the darkness, his heart still hammering in his chest. He hates that she had to go, but he also hates that he had given in. He had sworn off women years ago after he found out his wife betrayed him. He has guarded his heart, kept it intact since then. For the only woman he has ever loved had squashed it to pieces.

He turns toward the darkness of the forest and heads back home. All is still, but he can hear the noises of the night, the engines at Stacks Gate, the traffic on the main road. He had tried to stay hidden and withdrawn from everything, but apparently the world does not allow for such a thing. And now he has let a woman pierce through his hard exterior, and he knows it can only lead to a new cycle of pain and doom.

There’s something different about Lady Cassidy, however. Something innocent and quiet and warm and soft. But also, he could see the loneliness and sadness in her eyes. She is so different from Milah but he doesn’t know if he can trust his gut instincts. Lady Cassidy could be a siren, setting a trap for him and trying to ensnare him.

So it’s good that this cannot happen again. No matter how strongly her scent still lingers in his nostrils or how warm and soft and soaked her walls felt around his cock when he took her in the hut. Or how green her eyes are, how gold her hair is, reminding him of the sunshine he rarely sees, or how beautiful she is. Or how much she has already affected him.

When he witnessed her break down, he knew it wasn’t from holding one of the chicks. He could tell how much she cares for them but he had seen the pure joy on her face when holding the tiny pheasant in her hands. Then that joy quickly turned into tears, and he felt awkward, not knowing what to do. It had been a while since a woman had cried in front of him. 

And he didn’t know her enough or know what she was going through to comfort her properly. But he sensed her husband was the cause of her tears. Of her loneliness, her sadness. For if she were happy with her marriage, there would be no sadness in her eyes. And if Neal is anything like his black-hearted father, Killian can most certainly understand why the young woman would break down suddenly like she had.

He goes home to his dark cottage, lights the lamp and starts the fire, eating his supper of bread, cheese and young onions, washing it down with beer. He’s alone, except for Jolly of course, but he enjoys the silence. At first he had been annoyed Lady Cassidy had come to the hut and asked for a key, because the hut was his sanctuary, the only place no one else knew of, but she had asked with such kindness, and he couldn’t possibly deny her request. 

And that is what scares him. She seems too kind, too nice, too quiet, too much like him to be real. And when they were in the hut—what is now their hut, their little sanctuary—he could see the need, the vulnerability in her eyes, something a woman of her class has never shown him before.

But honestly, he is sorry for what had happened, mostly for her sake. What would happen if Sir Neal discovered Killian had fucked his wife? He would surely lose his job, but that’s not what worries him. Lady Cassidy’s reputation would be tarnished. 

The town would talk, and nothing but vile things about her would come from their mouths. And he doesn’t wish that upon her. If it were just her and him in this world, it would be a different story. He’d no doubt let her lure him and entrap him and he’d be hers for the taking. He’d take her again and again with no remorse.

The desire for her rises within him, his cock stirring to life once again.

He goes to bed that night and dreads the thought of washing Lady Cassidy off his skin. He strokes himself at the thoughts and memories invading his mind of her lithe body writhing underneath him, of her moaning and panting. Oh how sinful and sweet and lovely those sounds were. And that look on her beautiful face when he’d tried to get the firewood. When she begged for him with those hypnotizing green eyes, he knew at that moment he couldn’t say no. Not to her.

He'd fucked her good and hard on the floor of that hut and wished he could do it again and again. He spills his seed as he remembers how hard she had made him come inside her. Lady Cassidy with her tight walls squeezing his cock and making him hers.

Vixen.

He’d agreed a one-time thing is for the best.

But he fears if he sees her again, he surely won’t be able to resist her.

~*~

The next day, he goes to the hut, part of him hoping she’s there, another part of him hoping she’s not. He fears that even if he wants to stay away, he can’t. But he has to check on the coops. Make sure there are no poachers lurking around. 

He’s not sure how to feel when he arrives and sees her sitting on the porch steps, reading her book. Memories flood through his mind, the memories of how tight and wet she was when he took her in the hut, the way she smelled, the way she looked at him. But he has to wonder if she’s here for him. She has a key after all and she’d probably be more comfortable inside the hut. 

Though it’s stopped raining for the time being, so maybe she prefers to breathe in the fresh air of the forest. He glances over at her—saluting when she looks up from her book. Trying not to look at her too long, for he knows if he does, he’ll be tempted to give in—he goes to the coops, crouching down and surveying everything carefully, then shutting the hens and chicks up safe for the night.

When he approaches her, she’s still sitting on the porch step, reading her book, and she’s so stunning in her white and pink floral dress and bright yellow coat, part of her golden hair pinned back behind her head. Something stirs inside him like it had last night when he held her in his arms. She was crying and his heart ached for her.

He wanted to take all her pain away and he tried to ignore the way his heart raced when he was near her. But then he brought her into the hut and tried to leave to get more firewood and she grabbed his arm. Before then, he had doubted that what he was feeling for her was mutual, but then he saw the look in her eyes—the unmistakable desire in her alluring, emerald depths—and he knew in the moment she wanted him.

He very much wanted her too. Bloody hell did he want her.

He tried to fight it, tried to tell himself no good could come from it but whatever had made her sad was obviously not good and it had seemed to vanish from her mind when they were inthe hut and she looked at him the way she did, her eyes full of longing and need. He didn’t want to fight his desire for her. He wanted to give in. And he doesn’t regret what happened, but he worries she will. She, Lady Cassidy, cheated on her husband. He thought she’d wake up this morning, hating Killian for what happened. He thought he’d never get to see her again—unless by accident—that she’d never come to the hut again.

She looks up from her book, those fierce green eyes penetrating his soul. His heartbeat quickens, and he wants so badly to kiss those soft looking lips, but he’s afraid if he kissed her, he’d be a goner.

“I’ve been waiting for you.”

Fear pounds through him, because there are probably a couple reasons she’d be waiting for him  one, to tell him how sorry she is for what happened and that she hates him for it and two, to tell him she wants more than a one-time thing. She doesn’t look angry though. He swallows the hard lump lodged in his throat. “Do you regret what happened between us?”

She shakes her head, and he’s not sure whether to be relieved or bloody terrified. “No, not at all. Do you?”

“No, of course not.” He averts his eyes toward the forest, trying to avoid looking her directly in the eye. “But…don’t you think folks will become suspicious if you keep coming here?” He moves his eyes back to hers. “Imagine how lowered you’d feel…you with your husband’s servant.”

She cocks her head to the side, eyeing him curiously. “You afraid?”

“I bloody well am.” He steers his gaze away briefly and then back to her, nodding. “I bloody well am, yeah. Not of what people think of me, milady,” he clarifies, peering down at the ground. “But if you were to ever feel sorry for what we did—” Before he can finish his sentence, Lady Cassidy attacks his lips with hers, cupping his neck in her delicate hands. He’s too stunned to react at first. She had risen from the steps and sprang forward so fast, he hadn’t even noticed until it was too late.

He was right about his earlier prediction.

Now that Lady Cassidy’s lips are on his, so soft and tender, he’s a complete goner.

Once he returns from his daze, he exhales deeply and moves his lips against hers, closing his eyes. He cups her cheek in his hand, brushing his thumb over her plump bottom lip, savoring the taste of her mouth and the feel of her skin, his heart quickening in his chest.

His other hand rests upon her waist, and he inhales her sweet scent as his lips ghost over hers, her hot breath kissing his skin. She cups the back of his neck in her hand, her fingers playing at his nape and combing through his hair as she slips her tongue past his parted lips, knocking the hat off his head and the wind right out of his lungs. Her tongue is so soft and warm and wet as she drives him mad, his cock hardening in his trousers. He presses himself against her core, making her whimper, and he savors the deliciousness of her mouth pressed against his.

Letting the effect she has on him completely overpower him, for he can no longer find it within himself to resist her, he walks her backward, up the steps and toward the hut. 

They work at tearing off each other’s clothes while looking around to make sure no one’s around to see them. Killian pushes off her jacket as she undoes the handkerchief around his neck, pulling it off of him and tossing it aside, both of them already panting.

“We have to be quick,” she murmurs breathlessly. “I have to be back soon for supper.”

He hates the idea of a time limit, hell, he hates she has to go back, but he pushes the negative thoughts aside, continuing to walk her backward as they both work at unbuttoning his waist coat, and crushes her lips with his. She makes him delirious with need, and he never wants to stop kissing her. He flings it off and kicks the door open behind her, cupping the back of her head in his hands and burying his fingers in her soft hair as he ushers her inside.

When he backs her into the table, he lifts her up and sets her atop it, quickly parting her legs and resting in the cradle of her luscious thighs, their lips still latched. He loves her thighs, he loved thrusting against them when he pounded into her, he loves how soft and lovely they are. Killian rocks gently against her, and she gasps at the feel of him, a sweet little moan escaping into his mouth, and he devours it, his skin tingling.

His entire body is on fire.

Lady Cassidy fumbles for the buttons of his shirt and tugs the suspenders from his shoulders, never breaking the kiss as he helps her with it.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers against her lips as she pulls his sleeves down his arms.

She smiles and blushes. “You are too.”

Once the shirt is on the floor, he wraps his arms around her as she cards her hands through his hair, both of them breathing heavily and moving to get closer and closer until either can barely breathe. She wraps her hand around the back of his neck, and he cups her cheeks in his hands, breaking the kiss very briefly as he brushes his thumbs across her lips and admires her mouth. She’s breathless, her lips pink and bruised, her cheeks a rosy pink shade. Every part of her is beautiful, and her perfection takes his breath away.

Removing his thumbs from her lips, he sighs deeply and leans in again, tenderly capturing her mouth, groaning as he lets himself get completely lost in the kiss. He can’t get enough of her. He wants to stop time so he can keep kissing her.

Snaking his arm completely around her back, he holds her close as his other hand reaches for her breast, cupping the soft weight in his palm and stroking it delicately as her body melts under his touch. He can feel her nipple harden under his thumb as he toys with the delicate bud, eliciting the softest of moans from her mouth.

Reaching for her dress, he pulls up her skirts and she shifts and helps him remove the barriers.

“I can’t stay long,” she murmurs. “Someone will notice.”

Once again he finds himself grimacing at the time limit, but it only means he has to make what little time they have together count. He wants to make her feel good, no he wants her to feel incredible. He doubts Neal ever pays her any attention or touches her properly—or rather improperly.

He licks his fingertips and slips his hand under her dress, his breath hitching, his heart pounding when he finds her naked under her petticoat. She is so incredibly wet as he slides his finger through her folds, placing his other hand on the table. He hears the sharp intake of breath as he strokes her delicate, secret place, sliding two fingers into her heat, coating his digits in her arousal. She leans back and closes her eyes, biting her bottom lip and muffling her sounds of bliss.

“Look at me,” he demands in a whisper, wanting to stare into those hypnotizing eyes when he makes her fall apart.

She opens her eyes, those emerald depths pooled with desire as he thrusts his fingers into her warmth. He slides his lips down her jaw and kisses her neck as she tips her head back, moans pouring from her sweet mouth, her body writhing, both of them panting. Soon he can feel her walls pulse around his fingers and he kisses the delicious moans as she comes hard in his hand. But he’s not finished with her yet.

Carefully removing his fingers from her core, he drops to his knees and quickly, desperately, removes her petticoat and tosses it aside. She’s got these adorable pink, sheer stockings on her legs that go just above her knees and are adorned with pink bows. He throws those stocking-covered legs over his shoulders and pulls her to the edge of the table, looping his arms around her thighs.

She leans back on her elbows as he swipes her brown curls aside and licks up her slit, her sweet, tangy scent invading his senses and fogging his mind as he breathes it in through his nose. Lady Cassidy moans above him, carding her fingers in his hair as he devours her cunt. She’s so soft and warm and decadent, he could feast on her all day.

A gasp escapes her mouth, her thighs tightening around Killian’s head. When he peers up at her, the feeling of his tongue lapping her up has her eyes rolling back into her head. He smirks against her glistening folds as she threads her fingers through his dark hair, scraping her nails against his scalp, her body writhing above him.

He dips his tongue deeper inside her, pulling away almost immediately before repeating, teasing her until she’s completely on the edge and begging for him to finish her. 

“Jones…please…”

It’s in that moment he realizes she doesn’t even know his first name. Hell, he doesn’t know hers either. They are practically strangers, and here he is with his face buried in her pussy. But he’s not complaining.

She tugs gently on his hair and then harder in warning as he pushes his tongue in deeper, wiggling against her slick walls and stroking her clit, coaxing another orgasm out of her. Her thighs clench harder, and she gasps, throwing her head back, moans slipping from her mouth, loud enough to bounce off the walls of the small hut. 

Killian grips her thighs, keeping them still as he drives his tongue deeper and faster until her body arches and her thighs tremble around his head, until she tugs hard on his hair, her hips squirming. His grip never falters, nor does his tongue, drawing out her orgasm for as long as possible. Until she can’t take anymore.

When he finally pulls away, he looks up at her face again. She’s panting, her cheeks flushed, her lips parted, her eyes closed.

She’s an exquisite little thing.

He licks his lips as her orgasm drips down his stubbled chin. He rises and leans in, stealing a kiss, smirking against her mouth.

She laughs and playfully pushes him away. “I’m late.” He helps her off the table, and she grabs her slip and heads toward the door.

“Wait, let me walk you!” he calls through the doorway, picking up his shirt and throwing it on. He buttons it up as he hurries down the porch steps and grabs his hat, replacing it on his head. Lady Cassidy already has her jacket on and her book is already making her way back carrying her book and slip. But she knows he’ll chase her. Which he does.

When they’re close to the park, she spins around in front of a giant oak tree and throws him a curious look. “Do we still feel like strangers to you?”

He arches a brow in amusement as he makes his way to her. “Pardon me?”

“Do we still feel like strangers?” 

He looks around the tree trunk to make sure they don’t have an audience as he steps up to her, removing his hat. “Not like any strangers I’ve ever known.”

She walks backward until she bumps into the tree, her entire face lighting up with a giggle. The sound is music to his ears, and he longs to make her laugh like that and see the pure joy on her lovely face all the time. He closes the distance between them, presses his palm against the tree by her head and kisses her soundly on the mouth, swiping her tongue with his when she parts her lips. She cups his jaw in her free hand, brushing her thumb over his stubbled jaw as she lets a little moan escape into his mouth, making his spine tingle.

He loves her moans just as much as he loves her giggles.

“I don’t even know your first name,” she admits as though she’d been reading his thoughts earlier.

“It’s Killian.” He kisses her again. “And yours?”

“Emma.”

“There, do we feel less like strangers now?” he teases with a grin.

She smiles that big, radiant smile of hers as she gently pushes him backward. “I suppose.”

“Come to my cottage tomorrow.” He longs to have her in his bed, though he knows he won’t be able to wake up next to her, since she would have to return to her husband before supper. The reminder that she’s married makes his heart clench. Technically he is married too, but he doesn’t live with his spouse, nor is he still with her. They are separated. Emma on the other hand still lives with her husband.

She shrugs, looking a bit unsure. “If I can.” She turns around and heads for the gate. “Goodnight.”

He puts on his hat. “Goodnight then, your Ladyship.”

Emma opens the gate and pauses, turning around. “Killian!”

“Yes?”

She tosses her petticoat, and he grabs it with a smirk as he watches her close the gate and saunter away. It’s the first time she’s ever spoken his first name, and he loves the way it rolls off her tongue.

He tucks the slip underneath his shirt so no one sees him with it as he makes his way back home, a smile playing along his lips. His lips haven’t experienced this kind of smile in a very long time, and he has a feeling he’ll be smiling more often now as long as Emma’s in his life.

So much for swearing off women.

He doesn’t think he’ll be able to stay away from her.

He’s so fucked.

[motherkatereloyshipper]

I posted 267 times in 2022

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#5

“Hello, Son.” There seemed to be a genuine smile on the Elder Jones’ face as he greeted his son. This was a surprise, considering that the last time Killian had seen him he had been gutful of Killian’s knife and bleeding out on a midnight dock. But the approximation of morning was not done surprising him as another voice from the past sounded from behind his father.

“Hello, little brother,” Liam Jones smirked.

“Younger,” Killian half-whispered as he looked out at the echoes of his past.

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Emma smiled awkwardly, smoothing her tank top into her jeans, Killian’s ring bouncing between her breasts as she grabbed out cereal, milk, eggs and grapefruit. She squeaked, “Hi!” 

Milah just waved before pulling the laces on what was clearly one of Killian’s pirate shirts a little tighter. And fetching coffee cups from the cupboard.

Two men with markedly similar faces bore markedly different expressions. Brennan smirked, doffing his cup to his son, Liam’s face was a picture of revulsion.

Killian, as always fell back on bravado, “May I introduce Emma Swan, Sheriff of Storybrooke, and Princess of Misthaven and Milah, Guardian of the children of the Underworld and ex-wife of the Dark One. Emma, Milah, meet the Jones Boys, my Brother Liam and my Father Brennan.”

Milah laughed, “He always has been dramatic. Emma, love. Tell me there’s more coffee.”

Emma puffed out a soft laugh, “I’ll start another pot”.

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Emma handed out coffee and Brennan took Killian out to the porch. 

Liam stared at the women in front of him, his disgust poorly concealed. “So, which of you is responsible for the man he became?”

Emma looked at Milah, Milah looked at Emma. They both looked at Liam. 

“You,” Emma stated flatly.

“You,” Milah agreed with a nod.

“How exactly did I make him a morally loose pirate?” Liam sneered.

Milah started, “You left him, you died.”

Emma shook her head, “He’s so much more than just the pirate, and that's thanks to you too. He’s honourable, often braver than he should be, proud, arrogant, funny, brilliant, selfless, and a morally loose pirate. You died Liam, you left him because, and no this isn’t fair, but you valued your obedience to your king over him, after that he vowed to bend no knee to royalty.”

Milah barked out a short laugh, “Well, until you.”

Emma admonished her but the dimples on her face gave away her amusement.

Liam spoke hopefully to Emma, ignoring Milah, “So is he lost in the embrace of the Dark Ones cast off or has he turned his back on piracy and sworn the Jewel to Misthaven?”

Emma closed her eyes for a moment before taking a breath, “That isn’t what she meant, Liam.” 

Liam’s face flushed darkly before Emma continued. 

“We’re sworn to each other, he’s my true love, I‘m here to give him half my heart and bring him home. Milah was his love centuries before, when she was murdered it completed his descent, he was so lost for so long." Emma gripped Milah’s hand for a moment. “His journey has been… you couldn’t possibly comprehend what he has been through, he sacrificed himself to save everyone.”

“So what is this then?” Liam’s pout was now more sullen than judgemental.

Milah smiled her pirate smile, “I’d say that’s none of your fucking business, Captain Jones. Captain Jones the younger survived you by three-hundred-years and who and what he chooses to do is really none of your concern.”

Emma fist-bumped Milah before they rounded on the gobsmacked elder brother of their love. Emma stared deep into those oh-so-familiar blue eyes, “Now why don’t you cut the crap and tell us what you want.”

—------------------------------------------------------ 

Killian sat on one side of the small table on the porch. Putting down the coffee cup, he gestured to the other wickerwork chair, “Take a seat, fill me in.”

See the full post

27 notes - Posted July 13, 2022

#4

I commissioned this from the incredible @alineartiis as a companion to my piece flying Solo, my first (slightly offbeat) Reylo fic.

32 notes - Posted April 30, 2022

#3

Lost Girl :  Found

Chapter 1 of my Neverland New Year 2022 offering.

Firstly a massive shout out to CSColifer who is my writing buddy, editor and muse, who made a whopping 500 edits on this 10k fic, they are my saviour.

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0ISbhObKzpx5LKmXH0xe9k?si=78daf5c1448c437d

Chapter 1 is song 1 Lost Girls by Lindsay Stirling, and I recommend that if you are going to enjoy a beverage with this fic you consider a mug of jasmine tea with a shot of Patrón Silver.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/36341095/chapters/90600769

32 notes - Posted January 10, 2022

#2

The first chapter of my entry to the Captain Swan Supernatural Summer 2022.

Beta'd beautifully by @jonesfandomfanatic

There will be actually good art later.

Chapter One 

“So, you’ve been with my former lover and my son, is that right?” Milah pursed her lips.

Emma hadn’t been prepared for this, “Huh” was all she could say.

Rumplestilstkin smirked, “I’m sure we’re gonna laugh ourselves sick about this one day."

Milah filed behind Rumple and to Emma in a low voice conspired, “But not until he’s buggered off and we can get a drink.”

Emma smiled, this was an odd place, and that was Neal’s grin. The one she'd fallen for, the one full of mischief and promise. And there was the woman of fire Killian had spoken of. The one so strong that he still wanted to save. She saw herself there and smiled at the thought that she and Killian had fallen in love with the same grin.

They walked through the town, Rumple studiously ignored the soft talk between the two women.

Milah asked, "Did Bae still love to draw, when you were together I mean?"

Emma gave her a tight-lipped smile, "We were on the run, his art form was lock picks."

Milah smiled a vagabond smile, "There's a romance to that, what was he like, as a teenager?"

Emma shrugged, "I wouldn't know, he was in his mid-twenties, well, he looked mid-twenties, apparently he was closer to 300 by then, fucking Neverland."

Milah looked confused, "Rumple said… oh... oh gods no," she put her hand on Emma's shoulder, halting them in place. "Why did you have your baby in prison Emma?"

Emma looked at Milah with tired eyes, "It's a long story," she glanced at Rumple. "Let's just say, in some things he took after his father, but Milah, when he was brave, when he was a hero, he wore your smile."

"You've a kind heart, I can tell you’re trying to hide the hurt of it," Milah swallowed and glared at Rumple who was staring at his watch.

Rumple glared back, "I don't care if Hades puts in an extra few licks on your Pirate ladies, but I assume you do."

Emma looked up in confusion "The way in is here? So, what, the gates of hell are in my house?"

Rumple smirked, "As was the stone of Excalibur. The Pirate has a knack for targeting real estate with hidden value."

Milah whispered to Emma with a waggle of her brows that made Emma’s heart ache. "He's a marvel with finding treasure.”  

Emma sighed, her eyes caressing the dusting toys and empty crib, “Basement door?”

Rumple nodded, “Basement door”

Emma walked up to the door and unlocked it. Trying to push through the seal on the door flashed and repelled her, “It's a barrier, all right. So what is she going to do?” 

Rumple sneered at Emma, even now he couldn’t keep his disdain from his face, “Joining hands will be fine.” He reached out both his hands and, however unwillingly, the women took them.

Walking forward together they passed through the barrier as if it had never existed, Emma and Milah dropped Rumple’s hands and again strangely in synch, wiped their hands on the back of their trousers.

Emma spoke softly, the relief evident, “It worked.” 

Rumple’s cold tone held more chill even than usual, “Indeed. One step closer to Hell. The spell's gone. We'll be able to pass through on our own now. Thank you, Milah. You can run back to protecting the dead children.”

Emma held up a hand to Rumple “Hang on.” Emma met Milah’s eyes intensely, “Milah... thank you so much. And... there's something you should know. Your son, Neal, Baelfire... when I was on my way down here on the River, I had sort of a vision of him. I think he talked to me.”

See the full post

39 notes - Posted July 5, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

@everything-person asked if they'd re-use Killian’s headstone, I wondered if the Enchanted forest had its own calendar, it was late and I was sleepy

61 notes - Posted March 17, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[clockworkcheetah]

if this show wasnt family friendly but im 99% certain that rogers would say fuck every other sentence 

[polymysteryinciscanon]

Friendly Reminder that what consitutes a satisfying ending to a character arc depends on the character

(Or why Emma Swan is actually a great character)

Seems obvious, right? That's how character arcs work. But I think some people have forgotten.

So I'm rewatching Once Upon a Time, which means I'm back on a Captain Swan kick, which means I'm remembering all of the ppl who claimed that he "ruined her character" (how he did that when he showed up in season 2 of seven and she had more time with him than without i have no idea but anyway)

This is not the only example of this but I'm gonna focus on it bc it's fresh in my mind. But first, a few disclaimers-

I never actually finished the show. While I know Emma and Hook get married, I don't know the full context. I acknowledge that there is nuance to this discussion that I don't have so take this with a grain of salt.

I know this show went down hill after season 3-ish and there is a lot to consider, but I still think there is enough content to support this idea

Okay? Okay.

So basically most of the criticisms of Emma's relationship with Killian (besides your usual abuse accusations that always accompany this kind of ship) is that she got "weaker" and "softer" as their relationship went on. So we're gonna divide this into three parts.

1. Why this worked for Emma's character

2. Why saying this was all Killian is objectively false

3. How this relates to the wider world of female characters.

So. Point number one- how this was positive development for Emma.

A character arc is dictated by the character's beginnings. That's the whole point. Character has flaw> character overcomes flaw. And Emma's character arcs always revolved around how her past had affected her confidence and ability to trust. Emma was not a strong, independent woman because her mother raised her to recognize her own strength or because her father taught her to hit boys back. She was strong and independent because she had lost so much that she was terrified of letting people in. Ever. She wouldn't ask for help, she wouldn't admit to weakness, and she was so scared of letting herself love again because it meant she could be hurt.

So the logical conclusion of that arc is Emma being more open. More vulnerable. Her key strengths stayed. She remained confident in her abilities when a situation fell into her realm of knowledge, she knew when to dig her heels in and did it without question. She learned to define herself while taking in the mew aspects of her life and identity. She was still strong and confident. But she didn't have to do it alone. So yeah, for a little girl who thought her parents abandoned her who turned into a grown woman who'd had her heart broken so horribly she vowed to never trust anyone again, a bright happy wedding is great development. Emma had sworn off of love for unhealthy reasons, so trying again is a huge improvement. "You don't need a relationship to be happy" does not mean we should stop writing characters who have love in their happy endings. But more on that later.

2- This does not just fall on Killian and saying it does is a huge disgrace to both of their characters.

This is something you see a lot in fandoms. This is even sometbing that the OUAT fandom has done. But the credit for this development is not all on Killian. Everyone helped Emma open up.

Obviously Henry contributed a lot. Emma was totally out of her depth when it came to Henry. She was forced to ask for help. And she had to be vulnerable with him sometimes and opening up to someone made it easier in the future.

Then there's Mary Margaret. Even before the curse, she helped Emma take huge steps in the right direction here. She was so unendingly kind that Emma couldn't help being open. She'd let Mary Margaret into her heart started thinking of her as family- before she even noticed.

And after the curse? You know that whole mini-plot about Emma moving past her anger and making an effort to let her parents in. Yeah.

Emma's progress with Killian is a lot more noticeable, but that's not surprising because at the end of the day, he is her love interest. But saying that it was all him is just...incorrect

3- Why do so many people hate this?

Media in the last few decades has created quite a predicament for itself. Essentially, they have made the "not like the other girls girl" the sign of feminism in media and no other woman is allowed. Kristen Stewart once described it as "faux girl power" where they would write a male character with an obviously man-oriented arc and change the name. They took a few incredibly shallow feminist tags (don't need a man, don't like dresses, can fight), slapped them together and said "tah-dah" and women applauded it because it was all we had. Female characters mist be independent and not like men and not need anyone and be able to take on an actual, literal army singlehandedly or they're weak.

But the fact is that women are all so, so different. And we want different things.

The decision to have a female character not date or get married as a result of spending your whole story chasing after men, defining herself by if she was in a relationship, and losing complete track of herself? Fantastic. Beautiful. Impeccable.

The decision to have a woman get married after spending your entire story suffering heartbreak after heartbreak, locking each one in a "why men suck and why you'll die alone" box and having her find someone who slowly reminds her that there is good in the world? Getting married not out of societal pressure but because she wants it and it's healing to her soul? Exquisite. Breathtaking. Historic.

Could both of these stories end differently? Yeah, sure, if you're a good writer and know what you're doing. But the point is that there are stories where marriage is a triumph. Thses characters aren't getting married to check a box or to finally be seen as worthy and lovable. They are getting married for themselves. Emma got married because everything she'd ever dreamed of was right at her fingertips and getting married was something she never, ever thought she'd be able to do because everyone always left. So being able to stand in front of a family she'd thought was gone for ever and wear that dress and sing and dance and love-

It is probably best character arc conclusion the show gave us (besides Regina).

*if I ever get sleep deprived and pissed off like this again expect an equally unapologetic rant about Steve Rogers*

[parlideldiavolo]

have mercy, pt. 02

(CW: Brief mention of child endangerment.)

ll.

The shadow of Mephistopheles crouched low behind the glass. The cat’s ears were swept back and flattened as he sat atop the package in the front seat, and for a brief moment Vic’s attention shifted from Mercy to the small, helpless creature he’d first picked up off the street at a sickly three weeks old.

He wanted to tell Meph that it’d be alright; that there’d always be someone to take care of him no matter what happened. He wanted to shove the man next to the car away, get in and pet Meph’s ears and ignore everything that this meeting meant as though the man called Mercy was no one and this whole thing meant nothing.

But he wasn’t no one. 

Vic turned his gaze back to the older man. <“Got somewhere picked out, do you?”> he asked in Italian. The devil sounded remarkably calm; he couldn’t afford to be shocked or dwell on the years of feelings that welled up behind his heart like the betrayal was still fresh.

<“Yes.”>

Vic hated the weight in Mercy’s voice-- like he cared. He hated the bright, sad eyes and how little they’d changed since Vic was fourteen years old and stepping outside a classroom to see his uncle in the hall, smiling with those same bright, sad eyes and an outstretched hand.

He’ll hurt you, an instinct had whispered then. You know he will. He wants to.

In his youth, Vic had been hurt many times by failed promises--but this was his forever family, wasn’t it? His new dad had sworn it (and Vic wanted that to mean something.) His new uncle had only ever been happy to see him. Vic had decided to have faith like they always said you should and believe in something... something like family.

So he'd taken Killian’s hand against his own strange instinct, because he wanted to believe.

Killian had led him from the school. The other Saints had been waiting outside.

Cycles.

In the present day, Vic didn’t respond further and popped open the back door to toss the drinks he’d picked up inside the car. He watched Meph slowly slink around to the backseat when the door closed. Mercy, meanwhile, stepped to the side and observed him with that same expression of heavy serenity. Vic didn’t spare him another glance.

It was clever to do this so publicly. It meant neither of them could cause a scene because that’d invite innocent people into this or risk exposing people that Vic knew to the Saint, and the devil wasn’t about to have that. Mercy knew too much just having seen the car. What else did he know? Vic was certain the Saint hadn’t been around his house, at least not while he was there, so there was that.

<“Get in,”> Vic snapped. Only one of them would be driving this car and it wasn’t the traitorous (traitorous? do you still feel betrayed?) relic.

Mercy nodded and moved around to the other side of the car. Vic resisted ripping the driver’s door open and let his eyes fall on the package opposite. He slid into the car and picked it up before Mercy had a chance to sit. The Saint’s eyes flicked over it.

Vic smiled with all the attitude he could muster. “None of your fucking business,” he said before setting it in the back seat. When he retracted his hand he fanned fingers out to catch Meph’s silky fur. The cat pushed his head into Vic’s hand and his fingertips trailed down the length of an ear before pulling away.

Would that be the last time he touched him?

“Of course,” Mercy replied with a glance back at the seat. He finished settling in, dropped a large satchel at his feet and buckled before looking around the car. Anger flashed through Vic’s veins as he watched the Saint’s gaze travel over every small detail because he shouldn’t even be sitting here much less looking.

There was nothing in the car that outright betrayed Tom’s identity, at least (Vic confirmed with a quick glance around the cabin.) Fuck. Tom.

(What would their last touch be? Vic flicking the vampire’s nose ring and winking cheekily as he walked out the door? Their last words: telling Tom you’d better be waiting for me over text? He deserved more.)

Vic’s gloved fingers dug into the steering wheel when the radio switched on. Mercy’s expression didn’t change as their playlist blasted out of the speakers and Vic felt the same anger lash forward over it feeling like evidence and that the Saint didn’t need to hear it. An impulse swept through Vic to turn it off like that could protect Tom, but at the same time—

Fuck.

(It’s just the two of them ripping down the road with the windows down and the music blaring. The wind whips and roars; Vic feeds him a peach ring Tom can’t even taste and smirks. It’s a good memory.)

“Your tastes haven’t changed much,” Mercy spoke up like this was some kind of happy reunion.

“Shut up.” Vic revved the engine and pulled out onto the street. Part of him wanted to turn the music up until it drowned out the sound of the other man’s breathing and his own heart but he was going to need directions to wherever Mercy had picked out for their…

… for this.

He’ll hurt you. You know he will. He wants to.

Vic wasn’t stupid--he knew what was about to happen. He’d been prepared for it since leaving Italy, or so he’d thought. Maybe he hadn’t been prepared enough to have things he didn’t want to lose.

He thought about his dad. As if on cue his phone vibrated and Vic’s heart panged.

“Turn right up here,” Mercy suggested with the same kind, even tone he’d adopted since they’d locked eyes outside the store. Vic flicked the blinker and said nothing. Several seconds of silence passed with nothing but the low drone of the radio playing between them. Vic caught Mercy gazing into the mirror and studying the crouched shape of Meph in the backseat.

The boiling in his blood intensified. Vic took the turn a bit sharp and the Saint’s attention flicked to meet the stormy grey that glared at him from the mirror’s reflection.

He wants to.

<“I love you,”> Mercy told him.

The fiery feeling rippled cold down Vic’s limbs. He gazed out over the road and felt his teeth snap together. <“No you don’t.”>

Mercy followed his eyes to the road. <“There are many kinds of love. Some are greater than others. They must be.”>

Vic said nothing.

<“You know the story…”> Mercy trailed as the streetlights passed. He indicated another turn. <“When God told Abraham to bring his beloved son Isaac into the land of Moriah to be made a sacrifice. Do you think he was happy to do it?”>

<“Always thought that was a special kind of sadistic,”> Vic snapped back.

<“My love for this world—my love for the hurt and downtrodden. My faith... These must be greater even than my love for you. I know you cannot help what you are.”>

<”What I am,”> Vic repeated. <”A thorn in your fucking side? A devil? What about a man? What about your nephew? What about a kid? I sure was one of those once!”>

<”Dangerous,”> came the reply.

He wanted to laugh. <”And you aren’t?”>

<”I know you are trying to get into my head,”> Mercy quietly rebuffed. <”I know that’s what you do.”> 

<“What’s in the bag?”>

That question had the older man pausing. Vic continued:

<“Is it full of all the love you fucking feel, or is it full of what you plan to kill me with?”>

Minutes passed in silence. Then, a response: <“Both.”>

Streetlights. Buildings. People. The world hazed around them as lights flicked by the dashboard and over one curled, gloved hand gripping the wheel and two weathered, calloused ones folded gently over a lap. Nothing felt real. Everything felt distant.

Vic had no intention of making this an easy fight. He’d fight tooth and nail to survive.

Afraid of dying?

(He wasn’t. He couldn’t be. He’d accepted that a long time ago.)

Tha-dump.

His heart was in his ears.

(They’d all be taken care of. Vic wouldn't fail them. Hadn't.)

As the drive continued, part of Vic wanted to ask if Mercy had spoken with his dad. He wanted to be snide about it; dig the daggers in while he could and see if Mercy still had anything left to bleed. He wanted to ask how long he’d been here and what he knew.

But there would be no illuminating answers from the Saint just as there hadn't been any in a dream, and the devil’s silver tongue was now under lock and key because he refused to give even a sliver of detail to the Saint that he didn’t already have. He’d get nothing.

This is why, when they finally parked under the shadow of an old warehouse that was Killian’s own personal Moriah, Vic pulled out his phone, met the older man’s eyes with hot steel, wrapped his fingers around it and let it melt.

The casing buckled under the devil’s touch as metal glowed and dripped from his hand. The home screen (a picture of Meph being held up by cheerful olive hands) flickered and blackened along with the notification from Emmett that had vibrated his phone. Vic crushed it until it was a barely discernible hunk gripped in his palm.

Mercy hadn’t budged or flinched as this occurred but a shadow did cross his scarred face once it was done.

(They’d be protected.)

Vic dropped the husk of a phone on the floorboard. Mercy studied his face for several long moments before his bright eyes grew dark with sorrow.

Vic cut the engine and the music lapsed into silence. He popped the driver’s door open and felt a ticklish sensation cross his hands as he climbed out. A quick glimpse down revealed Mephistopheles slipping out of the back seat as smoke. The devil’s heart squeezed when it brushed against his legs. “Go,” he said.

The cloud at his feet lingered. Vic could hear the passenger door snap open as Mercy climbed out. The building above them blocked out most of the sky.

“Go,” Vic whispered again.

Meph knew where to go and who’d take care of him. Vic had made that clear, even for a cat. He’d be okay. They’d both be. He just wished…

Fuck.

Vic shut the door both in reality and on the sudden well of feeling that threatened to drag his heart, whatever it was made of, straight through the ground. The cloud at his feet rippled, dipped, then rapidly shot away. Vic turned to find Mercy standing in front of the car holding the bag he’d brought. The old man’s eyes flicked with the movement of the dissolved cat vanishing down the empty lot.

The Saint looked like he was about to say something but decided against it. 

“After you,” Vic told him with no small amount of scathing.

Mercy didn’t argue. Vic followed him up the cold concrete to the second floor.

(…And wished so many things were different.)

[searchingwardrobes]

Valentine Throwbacks: Day 2

This was written a few years ago for the 14 Days of Valentine’s Prompts on tumblr. This was for day three: the meet-cute.

Summary: Emma Swan doesn’t do “cute.” So when she meets Killian Jones for the first time, well, she meets ALL of him. Or what happens when gym employee Emma walks in on Killian in the tanning bed.

Making a picset for this fic was simultaneously fun and frustrating. Colin’s chest hair is one of a kind, isn’t it? ;) I also didn’t want this to be NSFW, so the tanning bed pic isn’t exactly as described in the story, lol.

Words: almost 3k

Rated: High T ? I mean, Emma accidentally sees him nude, but that’s about it. I just can’t bring myself to rate this an M because it’s overall just funny and cute.

Also on Ao3

Tagging the usuals: @snowbellewells @whimsicallyenchantedrose @kmomof4 @let-it-raines @teamhook @bethacaciakay @xhookswenchx @tiganasummertree @shireness-says @stahlop @scientificapricot @welllpthisishappening @resident-of-storybrooke @thislassishooked @ilovemesomekillianjones @kday426 @ekr032-blog-blog @lfh1226-linda @ultraluckycatnd @nikkiemms @optomisticgirl @profdanglaisstuff @carpedzem @ohmakemeahercules @branlovestowrite @superchocovian @sherlockwhovian @vvbooklady1256 @hollyethecurious @winterbaby89 @delirious-latenight-laughs @jennjenn615 @snidgetsafan @xsajx​ @itsfabianadocarmo @spartanguard @hookedonapirate​

Emma Swan did not work her butt off just to wipe things. She practically crawled and scraped her way into a meaningful life after getting out of prison. She worked multiple jobs, lived in her car, ate nothing but beans straight from the can, and when the misery was all said and done, she had a college degree in exercise science. But like any field these days everyone wanted experience, so until she somehow got some, she was relegated to wiping things. Wiping down the equipment, wiping down mats, wiping, wiping, and more wiping. And she only made slightly more than the teenagers at the reception desk and the college guy who made the smoothies.

Emma sighed as she grabbed yet another fresh rag after her boss told her the tanning machines needed . . . you guessed it, wiping. She was paying more attention to her internal raging about how much her life sucked than she was to her superior telling her which beds were occupied. She was pretty sure she said they were all being used except for bed three, so Emma went all the way to the end of the narrow hallway that housed the tanning beds and stopped at the last door. If she hadn’t been distracted and moody, she might have thought to knock. Maybe. Then again, most people locked the damn door.

Well, not this guy. He also didn't wear underwear to tan like most people. Nope, he was completely nude. He lay there, in all his glory, shimmering under the UV bulbs like the god Apollo or something. And the Greek god comparison wasn’t an exaggeration between the light shining on him, and the chiseled muscles, and the perfect . . . He was sort of like a living version of the statue of the David, but tanned and with lots of chest hair.

“Who’s there!” he called out.

Emma gasped, then cursed under her breath as she turned and left, slamming the door behind her. She sagged against the heavy oak door, her heart racing. She groaned and covered her face with the hand that wasn’t still clutching the bottle of cleanser and rag. Had she just stood there and stared at the guy? Oh god, she had.

Suddenly, the door behind her gave way and Emma fell backwards with a yelp. From her place on the floor, she looked up to see Apollo himself standing above her, smirking, wearing nothing but a pair of tight, white briefs. Did he look . . . pleased with himself? She suddenly realized she was clutching the bottle of cleanser to her chest.

“Like what you saw, darling?” he asked with an arched brow. He had a British accent. Of course.

Emma rolled her eyes at him as she struggled to her feet, irritatingly brushing off his attempts to assist her. “Please, I didn’t even look. Do you think I want to burn my retinas?”

His eyes, which were an amazing shade of blue, seemed alight with mirth as he regarded her. “Then why the blush?” He leaned towards her slightly, his encroachment upon her personal space made all the more infuriating by his lack of clothing. She took a step back towards the doorway.

“Oh great,” she snapped, “you’re that type.”

His brow furrowed, and for a moment he actually looked slightly hurt. “What type?”

Emma crossed her arms across her chest, despite the awkwardness of the cleaning supplies clutched in her hand. “Isn’t it obvious? I mean, seriously, who uses a tanning bed in the middle of the winter? Except for –“ she vaguely gestured up and down his person, “wanna-be Calvin Klein underwear models.”

It was his turn to scowl and cross his arms over his chest. His very appealing chest that Emma was trying really hard not to stare at.

“Or maybe some people do it for their health. You ever think of that?”

“Yeah right,” Emma bit out, “health of what? Your sex life, playboy?”

His blue eyes sparked with indignation. “Oh, you get an eye-full and you suddenly know me?”

Guilt pricked at her for a moment. She was in the wrong here for barging in without knocking. But his smirking and innuendos had her defenses up. “I know your type,” she told him smugly with a tilt of her chin.

“You walk in on me, and I’m the bad guy?”

He had a point, and she knew it. She took several more steps backwards into the hallway and turned on her heel, her ponytail swinging with irritation all its own. “Ugh, I’ve got work to do. Wipe the bed down, I get tired of cleaning up other people’s sweat all day.”

Emma half expected him to get in one last word, but as she marched away, all she heard was the slamming of the door to tanning room three.

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

The week of her little embarrassing tanning bed episode, there had been a slight lull at the gym. It had been the last week of January, when New Year’s resolutions were waning and the cold weather dampened people’s motivation. But now people seemed to suddenly realize that Valentine’s Day was only two weeks away, and the gym was once again packed. Even the indoor pool had been in more frequent usage, so Emma’s boss sent her to check the chlorine levels. With the flu epidemic, they couldn’t afford to let germs spread in the warm water.

It had also been a week since Emma had seen “Apollo the sun god,” much to her relief. But when she exited the women’s locker room, into the pool area, there he was: his muscular back an appealing sight as his arms cut through the water. He was evidently an experienced swimmer as he turned off the wall expertly and did a strong backstroke across the length of the pool. Emma shook her head and cursed herself. Damn it, she was staring again!

Emma was leaning over the edge, a nice distance away from the tanning god, getting samples of the water in little test tubes. She was shaking the first one to get a result when she was sprayed with little droplets of water. She looked up, her eyes angry, narrow slits, to see him, treading water easily with a maddening grin on his face. The pool water made his blue eyes almost glitter like sapphires, and he looked unfairly sexy wet.

“I’ve been hoping to see you again,” he told her. “We didn’t exactly get off on the right foot. I’m sorry I teased you, I was just trying to help you see the humor in the situation. It came off wrong, obviously.”

Emma purposely ignored him, staring at the little tube in her hand and trying to remember what the hell she was looking at. He cut through the water towards her, and rested his arm on the edge of the pool inches away from where she crouched.

“I’m Killian Jones by the way,” he said. Emma pressed her lips together in frustration as she blushed for absolutely no reason. She still refused to look at him. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him cock his head. “And this is the part where you say, hello, I’m Emma Swan.”

She jerked her head so fast, she almost dropped the test tube. “How did you –“

“I can read, love,” he laughed, gesturing towards her right shoulder.

Emma groaned as she glanced down at her employee name tag. She got hit on all the time at the gym, and had heard a million different pick-up lines involving her last name. But she had sworn off men since Neal, except for an occasional one night stand. But those were never men from work; too much familiarity.

“Some men would take your silence as off-putting,” Killian told her then with a smirk, “but I love a challenge.” Then he had the audacity to wink before diving back under the water.

Emma rubbed her forehead wearily as she stood. The water was low on chemicals, so she pushed the handsome swimmer/sun bather from her mind as she collected what she needed from the supply closet. She measured the chlorine as well as a small dose of shock and added it to the filtration system, then she headed back for the locker room.

Emma wasn’t sure exactly what happened next. There was a puddle of water on the tile floor deep enough to send her sensible sneakers sliding out from under her. Then her arms were wind-milling in empty air, and the pool water seemed to be rushing up to meet her. But before she could hit the water, a hand shot out and grasped her by the elbow. She was hauled from the pool edge, colliding with a warm, wet, very masculine chest.

Killian Jones chuckled as his other arm came around her. “Next time, don’t stand on ceremony.”

Emma blamed her shocked surprise for her delayed reaction in pulling away from him. “Please, Jones, don’t flatter yourself.”

He tucked his tongue into his cheek and waggled his eyebrows, “Remembering yesterday?”

Emma fumed as she gave him a disdainful once-over. “I’m just shocked you’re not in a speedo, mister tighty-whitey.”

Killian’s eyes widened and his gaze went from playful to irritated. “You wouldn’t even know I wore tighty-whities if you hadn’t walked in on me!”

Emma threw up her hands in frustration, resisting the urge to shove him. “It was an accident!”

He arched one brow. “Like you almost falling in the pool?”

Emma scoffed as she crossed her arms over her chest, “Who said I was falling?”

“Fine,” he spat out, “next time, I’ll just let you fall.”

He brushed past her then, grabbing his towel angrily as he marched towards the men’s locker room. Emma started to stomp her way in the opposite direction, but then decided she better tread more carefully on the wet floor.

Not that she had needed Killian Jones to catch her. She was just fine on her own.

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

Several hours later, Emma walked into her apartment and kicked her gym shoes off by the door. Her feet ached as she dragged herself over to the couch and plopped down next to her roommate. She groaned and Elsa laughed, handing her a slice of pizza from the pie resting on the coffee table.

“Rough day?”

“Yeah,” Emma muttered around a bite, “tanning bed guy showed up again.”

“Oh,” Elsa laughed, wrinkling her nose, “that must have been embarrassing.”

Emma waved her hand. “Don’t want to talk about it. I just want to stuff my face with pizza and zone out in front of the TV.” She narrowed her eyes at the screen and groaned, “Not this, Elsa, seriously?”

Her best friend shook her head as she chuckled at Emma. “Dr. Oz gives lots of good advice.” She poked Emma in the shoulder. “You should listen to him, junk food junkie. How you’re ever going to be a personal trainer when you eat like a fourteen year old, is beyond me.”

Emma smirked and lifted two fingers, “One, I was gifted with an amazing metabolism. Two, my clients will just need to do as I say, not as I do.”

They both laughed then and continued devouring the pizza. Emma’s brow furrowed as she tried to follow the show, since she had missed the first half. “What’s wrong with this girl he’s talking to?” she finally asked Elsa.

“Seasonal affective disorder,” Elsa explained, “lots of people get it in the winter.”

Emma snorted. “Is that a real thing? It sounds made up.”

Elsa shrugged, “I don’t understand it, since I love winter. The snow is so pretty, and the cold – I just don’t get why it bothers people.”

Emma rolled her eyes and tossed a throw pillow at her friends’ head, “Okay, you’re weird, we’ve established that.”

Elsa whacked Emma with the pillow then hugged it to her chest instead of giving it back. “Seriously though, it is a real thing. My friend at work struggles with it. I finally talked him into seeing a therapist, and Killian says it really helps him. Some things that help are physical, like –“

The blood had drained from Emma’s face as she choked out, “like a tanning bed?”

Elsa’s eyes widened, “Yeah, actually, and he swims in an indoor pool, too. Why?”

Emma groaned, dropping her pizza back to the box. She covered her face with both hands. “Please,” she muttered between her fingers, “don’t tell me his last name is Jones and that he has a British accent.”

“Yeah, he –“ Elsa’s words cut off as understanding dawned, “oh my god, you’re not saying he’s the tanning bed guy?”

Emma peeked through her fingers, “Yes, that’s what I’m saying. He introduced himself today – at the pool. Trying to be nice, actually.” She moaned as she lowered her head to Elsa’s lap. “I’m a bitch,” she whispered.

Elsa just gave a tiny, soft laugh as she worked the tangles out of Emma’s hair with her long fingers. “Well, so am I, that’s why we’re friends.”

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

Emma hoped that good intentions justified quasi-stalking. She had to make it up to Killian for being so horrible, and she couldn’t just wait around to bump into him again. She pulled his account up on her work computer and learned his gym routine. Killian Jones was an extremely punctual person of habit. On Tuesdays and Thursdays he got to the gym at 5 am and left at 6:30. Emma didn’t get to her shift on those days until 8:00. But on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays, he arrived at 7:00 pm and left at 8:30, which were the same days that Emma worked late.

Unfortunately, Elsa informed her that Killian had come down with the dreaded flu. By the time he came back to the gym, and Emma had figured out how to approach him, it was February the 14th. It wasn’t ideal to approach him on Valentine’s Day. After all, she didn’t want him to get the wrong idea. But if she put it off any longer, she knew she would chicken out. So on Valentine’s Day, when Killian Jones exited the gym, he found Emma Swan leaning against his black SUV with a smoothie in her hand. (That had taken additional stalking. To ascertain the smoothie he usually ordered and which vehicle in the parking lot belonged to him.)

“A peace offering?” Emma asked, hating when her voice cracked a bit. When he just stood there with his mouth hanging open, she rushed on, “And an apology? For walking in on you and then. . .well, for being a bitch.”

That finally got a chuckle out of him. He shuffled forward, and for the first time looked nervous. He tossed his bag in the back seat then turned to her with a smile as he leaned against the car with his arms crossed. “What brought on this sudden change?”

Emma’s face fell, and her eyes lowered to stare at the cup in her hand. “Your friend, Elsa Arrendale? I’m her roommate.”

“Oh,” Killian said, scratching behind his ear.

“And she didn’t tell me much,” Emma rushed to explain, “just enough to make me see how quick I was to judge you.”

Killian nodded. “So she told you I’m a mess this time of year, huh?”

Emma smiled and shrugged, “Hey, not everyone loves freezing their ass off the way Elsa does.” That got another chuckle out of him. “And besides, I’m a mess pretty much year round.”

“Well,” Killian said with a long sigh, “I was too, for a while. Right after my Milah died, I could barely get out of bed each morning. That was five years ago.”

Emma frowned. “I’m so sorry. Who was she? Your wife?”

“Aye,” Killian answered softly, “she died in a car accident. This time of year. We were going out on a nice date.”

“Valentine’s day?”

“No,” he said with a shake of his head and a false grin, “my birthday, actually, end of January.”

“I’m so sorry, Killian. No wonder this time of year is so hard for you.” She bit her lip. “Can you ever forgive me for being such a jerk to you?”

He ran his hand down his face, and afterwards, he gave her a more relaxed smile. “Of course I forgive you, Swan. I do make an arse of myself at times, so I can’t really blame you.”

They shared a laugh at that. Emma cocked her head, studying him and seeing him in a whole new light. “You have Valentine plans?”

Both his eyebrows lifted, “Can’t say I do. Why?”

She shrugged, “How about I buy you a drink?” She shook the smoothie cup still in her hand. “A bit stronger than this.”

Killian gave her a sinful smile, cocked his head, and tapped his lips. “I’d say you owe me a proper apology, love.”

Emma wanted to scoff, to roll her eyes, but all she could do was smile as a blush crept up her face. “That’s what the drink is for.”

Killian pouted then, quite affectively. “That’s all I get? When this time of year makes me so, so sad?”

What Emma did next was partly to shut him up. However, she had to admit, it was also because she had imagined what it would be like to kiss him a thousand times since the tanning bed. So she lunged for him, the smoothie falling to the ground forgotten with a thud and a splash. She hauled him in by the collar of his shirt, her mouth hungrily taking his.

Because she could admit it now: Yes, she liked what she saw.

[captain-emmajones]

The Lady of the Lake

Hiii! It's been so long. Hope you are all alright. 

This is based on The Haunting of Bly Manor. Fair warning, it emotionally destroyed me. This is my way of coping. (If you haven't watched it, WATCH IT.) Let me know if you're intrigued and would like to read more of this verse, I might fuck around and actually write a MC ;) 

Big thank you to @carpedzem for her feedback (and fair amount of screaming let’s not kid ourselves)!!! <3 

Happy Halloween!! 

Summary: Ghost!Emma haunts Mills Manor, and Killian only wishes she would haunt him instead.

Ghost AU - Angst - 1400 words - Ao3 

Tell me about the dream where we pull the bodies  out of the lake,

and dress them in warm clothes again.

Richard Siken.

.

And each night, tirelessly, endlessly, she would wake.

She would walk.

She would sleep.

And she would forget.

Until, until...

Time erased everything. Time erased her memories, erased him, erased the very chore of her existence, but she no longer was, so how could she have mind?

She let herself sink into oblivion, because it meant he was safe. They were all safe.

She let water fill her lungs, she let the lake wrap its ice-cold arms around her and for a time she wished they were his, for a time she did not forget until,... until she forgot.

And each night, again and again, she would wake.

She would walk.

She would sleep.

And she would forget.

Until there wasn’t anything else to forget, until she wasn’t a person anymore -- surely a person would have a face -- until she was only a vague feeling, a fleeting, dripping shadow, walking through the night, muddy footprints dropped behind her, and water, so much water, wishing that something would happen -- only it never would.

But she didn’t mind. She had forgotten she was waiting. She just stood there, by his workshop, without seeing the empty pots, without hearing the night’s owls, until her stiff, dripping legs moved again.

And she would dive into the frozen, frozen lake, and she would forget. Forget it all. Forget them and the why and the how.

And she would wake. She would walk.

Up to the same room, every night, to the bed without sheets and the mirror -- and for a time she did not forget how frightened she was, of this goddamn mirror, of her reflection, of seeing him and then her -- and this room that was so empty, so empty and she wondered if it had always been. But soon enough, she ceased wondering. She forgot to.

And she would go down the corridor, through the garden, to the moon flowers.

And she would stand there until some kind of recollection would sink into her mind. Her eyes would widen. And then, she would remember. It would be a wave of warmth suddenly overflowing her.

His blue eyes. The warmth of his arms. His voice. She would remember --

“And if you can’t feel anything, then I will feel for the both of us.”

-- and then, just like that, she would forget. Endlessly. Tirelessly.

“Because see, Swan, moonflowers only bloom once. And then they die. But they are worth the trouble. And sometimes, if you are lucky enough, you find someone worth the trouble, too.”

.

And each night, tirelessly, endlessly, he would fill his sinks with water, would fill his bathtub to the brim, would crack his front door open.

So that she would know that it was okay for her to step in, that he wouldn’t mind the muddy trails and the drenched carpets, so that she would know that he was waiting for her.

“It’s just water, love. It’s easy to clean up.”

And he would sleep, crouched on a chair, in front of his door, just in case, just in case--

He would sleep.

And he would forget.

That she was gone. That she wouldn’t come back, ever. That their love story was nothing more than a ghost story now --

And he would wake. And he would remember. And he would walk, among the livings, only he died when she surrendered herself to the lake.

-- oh, cross that actually. That’s utterly wrong. Those are sadness and anger and grief speaking.

Of course their love story was more than a simple ghost story.

He just wished...He just wished she had taken him down with her.

Down in the lake.

Just wished she had offered him this last cold embrace, just wished she had allowed him to rest by her side.

He didn’t mind the cold.

So long as her hand remained firmly clasped in his. As it had been. As it should be.

Only it wasn’t anymore.

One morning, one fine morning, he had woken up. But she had already walked, she had already walked out of their room, out of his life.

She had only written him a note.

And she had walked, she had walked without him, to the lake, and he had imagined her hair floating in the water, golden threads dancing amidst a grey pool, he had imagined her lungs filling with water, as she had surrendered herself, as she had saved them all.

And he had known, that it was all over, all over, that she was gone.

“The beast lives in me, Killian,” she had said, at the beginning, only it was the end, “and she will come to fetch me. I know it. I can feel her inside of me.”

And he had wanted to promise her that they had time, more time, and he had said: “One day at a time, my love. We will fight the beast together. But for now, we have today.” And he had squeezed her hand thinking perhaps he could hold onto her.

And she had smiled, and he had known that when the time came, she would fight the beast alone.

She wouldn’t drag him down with her, no matter how loudly he would scream, no matter how long he would weep for her to come back, she would do what was right.  

“I cannot risk losing you, Killian. I cannot lose you.”

Thus, after all these years, he had driven back to Mills Manor, to this cursed place, and he had walked back to the lake. To see her. One last time.

He had plunged, dived, rushed to her, as the cold had bitten his skin and slashed his heart open. Wishing he could walk with her, wishing he could sleep, wishing he could forget.

“You don’t get to choose who lives and who dies, do you, Swan?”

“IT’S ME. IT’S YOU. IT’S US,” he had screamed, down in the lake, water filling his lungs and burning his eyes, only he wasn’t screaming because how could you scream with this much water in your mouth?

He had screamed the same words he had heard her howl, years ago, when she had saved them all.

When she had taken the beast inside of her.

But this time she was the beast and he couldn’t take her in. She wouldn’t let him.  

“DRAG ME DOWN WITH YOU,” he had yelled some more, only in his heart, on seeing nothing, on seeing her pale, pale, moon face, down in the lake.

Her hair was spiraling around her peaceful features, just like he had imagined it would. She was still her. Her eyes were open, but she wouldn’t blink, wouldn’t move an inch.

And in that gesture she wouldn’t initiate, in the fingers she did not stretch to hold his hand, he knew.

That she wouldn’t drag him down. That she would never drag him down. Not now, not ever.

The lady of the lake would never drag anyone down with her again.

But that doesn’t mean he stopped waiting for her. Doesn’t mean he stopped filling his sinks and his bathtub and quit searching for her smiling eyes in the quivering water, for a sparkle of green and gold, doesn’t mean he closed his door and went to bed.

No.

He sat on that very same chair, in front of his open door, and he waited.

And just as his eyelids became too heavy for him to keep his eyes open, just as he fell into a deep slumber, there was a cold draught that gently shut his door.

His eyes flickered open at the noise, for one second, could it be…

But then Morpheus’ arms hugged him tighter and there wasn’t an inch of willpower left in him to wonder.

Still, a small unconscious smile stretched his lips and a whisper escaped his mouth.

“Swan…”

Silence. He was now sound asleep.

And if you were to gaze into his window, innocently of course, as every good neighbor does at midnight when the moon is their only companion, well perhaps you’d see the blonde woman that tucked a blanket under his chin and kissed his forehead, and you’d think that was quite odd -- considering Killian Jones lived alone -- but then you’d shake your head and stopped thinking about it at all.

And you’d blink back to see nothing but darkness in your neighbor’s flat, although you could have sworn there had been a humming light just a second ago, darkness everywhere, and perhaps a shiver would even shake your spine, and in another blink you’d think you saw a smiling face in the window pane, green eyes and blonde hair but it couldn’t be so you stopped thinking about it and you stopped looking into other people’s windows -- because that was actually quite rude, now, wasn’t it?

[motherkatereloyshipper]

“Hello, Son.” There seemed to be a genuine smile on the Elder Jones’ face as he greeted his son. This was a surprise, considering that the last time Killian had seen him he had been gutful of Killian’s knife and bleeding out on a midnight dock. But the approximation of morning was not done surprising him as another voice from the past sounded from behind his father.

“Hello, little brother,” Liam Jones smirked.

“Younger,” Killian half-whispered as he looked out at the echoes of his past.

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Emma smiled awkwardly, smoothing her tank top into her jeans, Killian’s ring bouncing between her breasts as she grabbed out cereal, milk, eggs and grapefruit. She squeaked, “Hi!” 

Milah just waved before pulling the laces on what was clearly one of Killian’s pirate shirts a little tighter. And fetching coffee cups from the cupboard.

Two men with markedly similar faces bore markedly different expressions. Brennan smirked, doffing his cup to his son, Liam’s face was a picture of revulsion.

Killian, as always fell back on bravado, “May I introduce Emma Swan, Sheriff of Storybrooke, and Princess of Misthaven and Milah, Guardian of the children of the Underworld and ex-wife of the Dark One. Emma, Milah, meet the Jones Boys, my Brother Liam and my Father Brennan.”

Milah laughed, “He always has been dramatic. Emma, love. Tell me there’s more coffee.”

Emma puffed out a soft laugh, “I’ll start another pot”.

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Emma handed out coffee and Brennan took Killian out to the porch. 

Liam stared at the women in front of him, his disgust poorly concealed. “So, which of you is responsible for the man he became?”

Emma looked at Milah, Milah looked at Emma. They both looked at Liam. 

“You,” Emma stated flatly.

“You,” Milah agreed with a nod.

“How exactly did I make him a morally loose pirate?” Liam sneered.

Milah started, “You left him, you died.”

Emma shook her head, “He’s so much more than just the pirate, and that's thanks to you too. He’s honourable, often braver than he should be, proud, arrogant, funny, brilliant, selfless, and a morally loose pirate. You died Liam, you left him because, and no this isn’t fair, but you valued your obedience to your king over him, after that he vowed to bend no knee to royalty.”

Milah barked out a short laugh, “Well, until you.”

Emma admonished her but the dimples on her face gave away her amusement.

Liam spoke hopefully to Emma, ignoring Milah, “So is he lost in the embrace of the Dark Ones cast off or has he turned his back on piracy and sworn the Jewel to Misthaven?”

Emma closed her eyes for a moment before taking a breath, “That isn’t what she meant, Liam.” 

Liam’s face flushed darkly before Emma continued. 

“We’re sworn to each other, he’s my true love, I‘m here to give him half my heart and bring him home. Milah was his love centuries before, when she was murdered it completed his descent, he was so lost for so long." Emma gripped Milah’s hand for a moment. “His journey has been… you couldn’t possibly comprehend what he has been through, he sacrificed himself to save everyone.”

“So what is this then?” Liam’s pout was now more sullen than judgemental.

Milah smiled her pirate smile, “I’d say that’s none of your fucking business, Captain Jones. Captain Jones the younger survived you by three-hundred-years and who and what he chooses to do is really none of your concern.”

Emma fist-bumped Milah before they rounded on the gobsmacked elder brother of their love. Emma stared deep into those oh-so-familiar blue eyes, “Now why don’t you cut the crap and tell us what you want.”

—------------------------------------------------------ 

Killian sat on one side of the small table on the porch. Putting down the coffee cup, he gestured to the other wickerwork chair, “Take a seat, fill me in.”

Brennan, in a move that mirrored his son, elegantly collapsed into the chair taking up twice the required space. “It’s good to see you, son.”

“Really?” Killian stared in confusion. “Last time I saw you I killed you.”

Brennan shrugged, “Bygones, you didn’t hurt your little brother.”

“Younger,” Killian muttered. “So killing you is no matter, and somehow Liam has forgiven you, so what now?”

Brennan smirked, “Now we punish Hades for turning and torturing your brother, repair the underworld, save the day and you get the girl, girls, women? Help me out here, Son.”

KIllian quirked an eyebrow, “What did Hades do to Liam - the elder, that is? that was unnecessarily complicated, by the way, but I am more reconciled to it now I have had to deal with Emma’s parents naming their son after Emma’s ex, who is also Milah’s son.”

Brennan blinked, “Genuinely I thought my children had been dead for centuries and I wanted to remember them. He was blessed as Liam Killian Jones by the way.

‘Well, should he ever want to be near me without murdering me, perhaps I’ll call him LK. Anyway, how do we ‘fix’ the underworld?” Killian sipped at his coffee.

Brennan grinned, “There’s an investigator that came recently, he runs the floristry. He has a plan.”

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Liam stared at the women for a moment. “There’s a florist who thinks Hades is cursed. He seems to have a lot of familiarity with the subject of curses and the like. When we felt Killian arrive, I thought it was an appropriate time to familiarise Hades with one of the rules of the sea.”

“Huh?” Emma queried softly.

Liam smirked in a way that had both women flushing slightly, “Why, ‘one should never mess with the Brothers Jones’ of course.”

Milah chuckled, “One thing I don’t understand. I know what Brennon Jones did, so how is it that you’re here with him?”

Liam looked slightly sheepish, “I… I made some choices I shouldn’t have to get Killian and I out of indentureship and into the navy and it left me indebted to Hades and with a mark on my soul. When Killian dispatched our father he arrived here with a number of tokens from his travels, including a trinket Hades wanted, he traded it for me.”

Emma narrowed her eyes, “What was the trinket, Liam?”

Liam took a deep breath, “A shard of a star from the delphinius constellation, it lead Posideon to his true love and was a gift from my Father’s true love to him, Cymopolea is Posideon’s daughter. That’s why she could communicate with father despite his curse, she used the star to find him, but he was already cursed.”

Milah raised her eyebrows, “That’s a lot, but let’s start with, what the hell does Hades want with a bit of star that leads to true love?”

Emma shrugged, “Maybe he’s looking for his Persephone?” Liam and Milah turned to Emma in surprise, “What?” she exclaimed. “I read!”

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After a gentle breakfast, Emma called the loft and the conglomeration walked down to the diner. Brennan peeled off to the florists to fetch their source while the rest grab the large booth at the back.

Killian sees Henry first and stands for the lad to collide with his chest with a resounding force, “Don’t do that to me again ok, Killian?”

“I’ll certainly try not to lad,” Killian looked Henry in the eye for a second before scruffing his hair and bringing him back into a tight hug, his voice cracked as he repeated, “I’ll try not to, I’m so sorry for all you’ve been through m’boy.”

Killian brought Henry back to the booth where he sandwiched him between he and Emma, “Milah, Liam, this is Henry.”

Milah’s smile was tight, “A pleasure to meet you Henry. I've heard such good things about you.” She reached across and took his hand.

Liam’s brow was puzzled as he looked between the young man and his brother speculatively, noting the closeness, his eyes lingering on the dark hair and the elfin features. Killian shook his head, “I could only wish to be so lucky.”

Henry looked up at Killian, “Closest I’ve ever had. Sorry Milah, Grandma Milah?”

Milah raised her eyebrows, “Well that would make that last statement a little peculiar.”

Henry laughed and blushed, “Fair, just Milah then?”

“Henry, anyone should be proud to call themselves any part of your family, maybe I will find a way to earn that.” She gently released his hand with one last squeeze.

Liam smiled an easy smile, and with a slight shake of his head, said, “I suppose then I should say that it is so very good to meet you, nephew. I’ll endeavour to make up for all those missed birthdays with getting you and your family out of here.”

David and Robin loudly dragged an extra table to the end of the booth and Regina and Mary Margaret brought across trays from the counter. Introductions were made and everyone got comfortable and brought up to speed while they waited for Brennan’s mysterious florist.

Liam finished another cup of coffee before apologising, “Apologies all, Brennan should be back with Graham shortly.”

[ireadyabooks]

Books to Read After Watching Julie and the Phantoms

By Mackenzie Cutruzzula

First things first...

If you’re anything like me you haven’t been able to get the songs from Julie and the Phantoms out of your head. Whether you love music, a good ghost story, or a little bit of both, these books are on the edge of great.

Julie and the Phantoms: The Edge of Great by Micol Ostow (On Sale December 29)

After the passing of her mom, Julie has lost her passion for music and is on the verge of being kicked out of her performing arts high school. That is, until she makes the ultimate comeback with her new band, Julie and the Phantoms. There’s only one catch: all of her bandmates are ghosts. 

Back in the 1990s, Luke, Reggie, and Alex were on the cusp of rock stardom with their band, Sunset Curve, before an unfortunate encounter with Los Angeles street food brought their rock band dreams—and lives—to an end. Now, with Julie as their lead singer, the guys have a second chance to make it big and to help Julie discover the real power of music. 

This novel based on Season 1 of the hit Netflix series is told in alternating points of view and include a full-color photo insert and exclusive story content not seen on the show!

If you love the music of Julie and the Phantoms try these reads:

P.S. I Like You by Kasie West

While spacing out in Chemistry class, Lily scribbles some of her favorite song lyrics onto her desk. The next day, she finds that someone has continued the lyrics on the desk, and added a message to her. Soon, Lily and her anonymous pen pal are exchanging full-on letters -- sharing secrets, recommending bands, and opening up to each other. Lily realizes she's kind of falling for this letter writer. Only who is he? As Lily attempts to unravel the mystery, and juggle school, friends, crushes, and her crazy family, she discovers that matters of the heart can't always be spelled out...Kasie West brings irresistible wit, warmth, and sparkle to this swoon-worthy story of love showing up when you least expect it.

Turn It Up by Jen Calonita

The Nightingales are in a serious funk. Bradley Academy's all-girl a cappella group used to be the pride of the sunshine state, but the Nightingales have recently fallen out of harmony. Best friends and co-captains Lidia Sato and Sydney Marino haven't been speaking ever since a boy came between them. And not just any boy-none other than Griffin Mancini, the lead singer of Bradley Academy's smug all-boy a capella group, the Kingfishers.The Nightingales have no chance of making it to the big state final if their captains are at each other's throats. Their only hope is new girl Julianna Ramirez. But in addition to her serious pipes, she has some serious stage fright.The Nightingales will have to come together if they want to shine at the upcoming competition and restore the group to its former glory.

K-Pop Confidential by Stephen Lee

When Candace Park secretly enters a global audition held by the same music label that made the K-pop boy band SLK famous, the last thing she expects is to actually get a coveted spot in their trainee program. And convincing her strict parents to let her to go is all but impossible ... although it's nothing compared to what comes next. Under the strict supervision of her instructors at the label's headquarters in Seoul, Candace must perfect her performance skills to within an inch of her life, learn to speak Korean fluently, and navigate the complex hierarchies of her fellow trainees, all while following the strict rules of the industry. Rule number one? NO DATING, which becomes impossible to follow when she meets a dreamy boy trainee. And in the all-out battle to debut, Candace is in danger of planting herself in the middle of a scandal lighting up the K-pop fandom around the world.

Kill the Boy Band by Goldy Moldavsky

Just know from the start that it wasn't supposed to go like this. All we wanted was to get near them. That's why we got a room in the hotel where they were staying. We were not planning to kidnap one of them. Especially not the most useless one. But we had him-his room key, his cell phone, and his secrets. We were not planning on what happened next. We swear.

Muted by Tami Charles (On Sale February 2, 2021)

For seventeen-year-old Denver, music is everything. Writing, performing, and her ultimate goal: escaping her very small, very white hometown. So Denver is more than ready on the day she and her best friends Dali and Shak sing their way into the orbit of the biggest R&B star in the world, Sean "Mercury" Ellis. Merc gives them everything: parties, perks, wild nights -- plus hours and hours in the recording studio. Even the painful sacrifices and the lies the girls have to tell are all worth it. Until they're not. Denver begins to realize that she's trapped in Merc's world, struggling to hold on to her own voice. As the dream turns into a nightmare, she must make a choice: lose her big break, or get broken. Inspired by true events, Muted is a fearless exploration of the dark side of the music industry, the business of exploitation, how a girl's dreams can be used against her -- and what it takes to fight back.

Spin by Lamar Giles

When rising star Paris Secord (aka DJ ParSec) is found dead on her turntables, it sends the local music scene reeling. No one is feeling that grief more than her shunned pre-fame best friend, Kya, and ParSec's chief groupie, Fuse -- two sworn enemies who happened to be the ones who discovered her body. The police have few leads, and when the trail quickly turns cold, the authorities don't seem to be pushing too hard to investigate further. But nobody counted on Paris's deeply loyal fans, ParSec Nation, or the outrage that would drive Fuse and Kya to work together. As ParSec Nation takes to social media and the streets in their crusade for justice, Fuse and Kya start digging into Paris's past, stumbling across a deadly secret. With new info comes new motives. New suspects. And a fandom that will stop at nothing in their obsessive quest for answers, not even murder...

If you love the ghosts in Julie and the Phantoms and are looking for something a little spooky, try these reads:

City of Ghosts by Victoria Schwab

Ever since Cass almost drowned (okay, she did drown, but she doesn't like to think about it), she can pull back the Veil that separates the living from the dead . . . and enter the world of spirits. Her best friend is even a ghost. So things are already pretty strange. But they're about to get much stranger. When Cass's parents start hosting a TV show about the world's most haunted places, the family heads off to Edinburgh, Scotland. Here, graveyards, castles, and secret passageways teem with restless phantoms. And when Cass meets a girl who shares her "gift," she realizes how much she still has to learn about the Veil -- and herself. And she'll have to learn fast. The city of ghosts is more dangerous than she ever imagined.

All the Crooked Saints by Maggie Stiefvater

Any visitor to Bicho Raro, Colorado, is likely to find a landscape of dark saints, forbidden love, scientific dreams, miracle-mad owls, estranged affections, one or two orphans, and a sky full of watchful desert stars. At the heart of this place you will find the Soria family, who all have the ability to perform unusual miracles. And at the heart of this family are three cousins longing to change its future: Beatriz, the girl without feelings, who wants only to be free to examine her thoughts; Daniel, the Saint of Bicho Raro, who performs miracles for everyone but himself; and Joaquin, who spends his nights running a renegade radio station under the name Diablo Diablo. They are all looking for a miracle. But the miracles of Bicho Raro are never quite what you expect.

Cemetery Boys by Aiden Thomas

Bestowed by the ancient goddess of death, Yadriel and the gifted members of his Latinx community can see spirits: women have the power to heal bodies and souls, while men can release lost spirits to the afterlife. But Yadriel, a trans boy, has never been able to perform the tasks of the brujas - because he is a brujo. When his cousin suddenly dies, Yadriel becomes determined to prove himself a real brujo. With the help of his cousin and best friend Maritza, he performs the ritual himself, and then sets out to find the ghost of his murdered cousin and set it free. However, the ghost he summons is not his cousin. It's Julian Diaz, the resident bad boy of his high school, and Julian is not about to go quietly into death. He's determined to find out what happened and tie off some loose ends before he leaves. Left with no choice, Yadriel agrees to help Julian, so that they can both get what they want. But the longer Yadriel spends with Julian, the less he wants to let him leave.

The Ghost and the Goth by Stacey Kade

After a close encounter with a bus, Alona Dare goes from homecoming queen to Queen of the Dead. She’s stuck as a ghost in the land of the living with no sign of the big, bright light to take her to a better place. To make matters worse, the only person who might be able to help her is Will Killian, a total loser outcast. More than anything, Will wishes he didn’t have the rare ability to communicate with the dead, especially the former mean girl of Groundsboro High. He’s not filling out any volunteer forms to help her cross to the other side, though it would bring him some welcome peace and quiet. Can they get over their mutual distrust -- and quasi-attraction -- to work together? Readers of this spirited paranormal comedy won't want this odd couple to ever part.

[suwya]

Till the Stars Had Run Away - Prologue

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

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Rating: M

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AO3

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A/N: I started to write this story two years ago, but I never found the courage to post it. Until something happened. 

I read some of the brilliant fanfics written by @thisonesatellite​, and commenting them with her, gave me the pleasure to getting to know this amazing person. She is the reason why this fic sees the light of the day. And she is also my beta: I will be forever thankful to her for all the help she gives me, I owe her so much!

Happy birthday Stephanie! I hope you’re having a wonderful day, because you deserve the best!

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Prologue.

And a softness came 

from the starlight 

and filled me full 

to the bone. 

(W. B. Yeats)

Fucking ice bitch is not so icy after all. Killian thought while he was crossing the Royal Palace's limits. And yes, he was probably drunk, but not enough to forget that he didn't want to stay on this ridiculous planet another day more than necessary. He needed to repair his ship and fly far, far away from here as soon as he could. He would be damned if he didn't. 

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***

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Eight full moons before.

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The room was too bright for his liking; it was big, neat and decorated with minimalist furniture, just a double bed with a couple of night stands. 

Killian shook his head; this was a mistake, a huge mistake, one that would pester his soul for the rest of his life. He knew better. Why am I even here? He thought. Oh, yes, because of the bloody money. If there was any chance to leave this damn place, this was it. He needed the money to repair his ship.  

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

When a rock had collided with his ship, Killian had made a forced landing. New Tolemac seemed a quiet place to lie low for a while, at least at the beginning. But, the ins and outs of the Royal Government of this planet weren't aligned with his philosophy. Long ago he had sworn to himself to serve no king and live by his own rules. 

There were only two things that stood between him and his next destination: A new gimbal block for the engine of his ship, and the money to purchase it. 

He stood at the end of the bed pondering over the best outfit for the occasion. He wasn't exactly attending a Royal Gala, this was a commercial trade... sort of. 

In the end, he stuck with his usual attire: a black vest over a dark grey long sleeved shirt, black jeans, and boots. He was in contrast to the place he was staying. Everything was white: the blankets, the walls, the pavement, even the door. 

He didn't flinch when that door suddenly opened. “Here we go.” He said to himself and tried to put on his best poker face. 

Through the door frame, he could spot three figures. Two of them were Royal Guards with black and maroon uniforms, helmets hiding their faces, and the characteristically rounded blades around their waists. Killian wished he had his automatic harpoon with him as well, but of course, no foreign arms were allowed inside the confines of the Royal Palace. 

The third person of the group was a lithe, young girl with straight blond hair tied in a complex braid. She was wearing an elegant but simple white dress with thin straps that was long enough to hide her feet. She was the only one who entered the room; the guards closed the door behind her. 

So this is the famous Princess Emma, Killian thought. Well, she was beautiful, indeed, and young, so very young. Nobody had ever seen the Princess in public, not the common people at least. Raised by the Royal Family in the utmost secrecy, she had never crossed the barriers of the Palace and its gardens. Protected like the most precious treasure in existence, she held the future of the entire planet in her hands.

And that was exactly why Killian was in that room with her.

She stopped a few steps in front of him, her chin raised and her arms crossed in front of her, in what Killian would have defined as the typical arrogant Royal attitude. 

"Let’s do it quickly. I have a pretty busy schedule today," she stated.

"Well, that's a shame, Princess, because I do like to take my time around a woman."

"We are not here because of what you like," she replied. "During the last few weeks, you have been thoroughly tested by a highly professional medical team, and you've been selected as the most capable for the role, and that is what matters to get the most satisfying result," she explained in an unsentimental tone.

"Capable sounds good, but it's probably not the adjective I would choose to describe myself." Killian tilted his head and hooked his right thumb in one of the loops of his belt, then made a step towards her invading her personal space. His flirty innuendos usually had a certain effect on women. "Regarding the satisfying results…"  He added in a low sultry voice "well, love, you don't have to worry about that."

"I'm not worried and I'm definitely not your love," she huffed impatiently and he immediately realized he had not impressed her. "Now, if we are finished with the preliminaries, I'd rather get to the point," she added, indicating the bed near them. "As I said before I have a busy schedule. Some people have responsibilities."  

"Believe me, Princess, I haven't even started with the preliminaries." He grinned, blinking at her.

"Mr. Jones..." she started what seemed to be a petulant comeback, but he lifted a hand to stop her. 

"Killian will do," he smiled. “Or Captain, if you prefer something more formal.”

"Whatever." She went on, "let me make this clear: you're expendable. You're here just because you were the first name on the list, but that doesn't mean that I can't discharge you and choose the second one."

Killian remembered who the ‘second one’ was. Some bloke full of bullshit named Cassidy, whom he had met while waiting for a test to run. The thought of that piece of work and this beautiful young lady in the same room sent an unexpected shiver down his spine. He suddenly felt like he had to protect her, but why? "Oh, but you won't, because Royals never settle for second best. Besides, you don't intimidate me, Princess. I believe you're the one who's going to lose here." Confidence had always been his most effective weapon.

"You're so full of yourself, but at the end of the day I will fulfill my duty. You, on the other hand, will end up with no reward at all. And I've heard the paycheck is quite alluring. Wasn't that why you applied in the first place?" Damn woman, he thought. She knew how to push his buttons. 

Something about the Princess captivated him but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. He studied her. She was guarded, she clearly didn’t want him to look through her barriers. But it wasn’t all due to her status, it seemed more of a protective measure. 

He decided it was time to stop with his demeanor; he shouldn't have even started from the beginning. What was he thinking? Flirting with a girl so young. But innuendos and suggestive remarks had always been his coping mechanisms in a thorny situation.

A muscle clenched in his jaw and with a more serious tone of voice he asked, "How old are you?"

"Excuse me?" Her eyes widened for a brief moment. She looked him up and down as if she was wondering who he was exactly. 

The fleeting crack in her stance she had just shown him confirmed to Killian that there was much more behind those pompous Royal walls of hers. "You are way too young. How old are you?" He insisted.

"Not much younger than you are." The Princess put her hands on her hips and immediately stepped back. Her posture was rigid, her mouth set in a firm thin line, her eyes cold and challenging. 

"Appearances can be deceiving. I'm quite a lot older than you can imagine. I’m not from here, and I’ve been in many lands where time runs differently."

She seemed to consider his words for a few seconds. "I'm seventeen." She answered, but before he could react she went on to explain,“and tonight the three moons of New Tolemac will align with the northern star, which makes the best scenario for me to conceive a Royal Heir.” 

“This is the most preposterous nonsense I've ever heard.” Killian knew what he was supposed to do in that room, but this was insane. The girl was only seventeen years old, she had a whole life in front of her.

"I don't expect you to understand. As you said, you're from another planet. In this realm, we follow the rules. And my parents raised me to be a reliable part of the Royal Family, who in spite of my age can assume the responsibilities of a pregnancy, and consequently raise a child to be our future King."

"The same sweet dear parents that locked you up in a room to be fucked by the first random guy of the week, I presume?"

"It's not locked. I can go out whenever I want." She answered in the same pragmatic tone with which she had been speaking the whole time.

He couldn't believe what he was hearing, how could she agree to these methods? But maybe, if it was true that she had been raised for this purpose, the King and Queen had probably done everything in their power to not let her think otherwise. "But you won't." He stated as a matter of fact. 

"Of course, I won't. I'm here to fulfill my duties." She replied, and it didn't slip by him that it was the second time she had used the exact same words, as if they were a memorized speech. 

“Oh, come on, don't tell me you've never imagined a grandiloquent wedding.” He tried to tease her.

“I will marry a suitable candidate when the right time comes, but it's definitely not on my agenda at the moment.” She explained as if it was the most obvious thing in all the worlds. 

“A suitable candidate? No knight in shining armor who will rescue you from your miserable existence?”

“I'm no damsel in distress, Captain Jones.” She answered, emphasizing his rank, “I don't need to be rescued.”

“What about love?” He needed to probe her limits, to know what was behind her walls.

“Love is overrated. We are at war. There's no time for such trivialities.”

That surprised him. “I had no idea New Tolemac was at war.” 

“Maybe not right now, but the Lepka Industry is pushing forward, and we all know the consequences.”

Killian definitely knew something about those consequences. I've seen with my own eyes what that monster is capable of. He thought to himself. Invading a peaceful planet and depleting all the resources until it ends up imploding with no safe getaway for its inhabitants. It was a painful memory he had spent years trying to avoid and eventually forget. “I’m well aware of The Industry’s methods.” 

“Then, you of all people should understand the importance of some good defensive measures.”

“But The Industry is very far from here.” He wasn’t sure why the Government of this planet was so intimidated by a faraway menace.

“For now. But we have to be prepared for every possibility. And the population will need their rightful ruler when the time comes.” The Princess explained. “So, if everything is clear, I'd like to get started.” She added.

Killian stared at her. He was starting to understand. She seemed so young and somehow vulnerable, but behind that fragile appearance she was a tough lass, and he liked it. Still, he believed that this was a terrible mistake. “I'm not going to touch you.”

“What?” She asked outraged. “This is not what you've signed on for.” 

Killian shrugged. “I've changed my mind.”

“Why?” She inquired with wide open eyes, and he couldn’t decide if she was shocked by his refusal to follow an order, or if it was the rejection that was hurting her. 

He stepped forward, and now they were so close he could spot some golden flecks in her emerald eyes. “Because no woman in any land should be treated like this, no matter how noble the reasons are.” He almost whispered.

“I'm not being treated in any way.” She replied in the same low voice. “This is my choice and my duty. My planet needs an heir that will be able to lead it.” 

“You are the heir.” He stated and made a step back. Then, he lifted a hand to his head as if he was suddenly remembering something and added in a mocking way, “But oh, I forgot, you're a woman, which means that you can't govern because of some stupid rules.” 

“You don't understand.” She hissed through her teeth, now clearly annoyed. “This is the only chance I have to save my people.” 

“Well, then, do whatever you have to do, savior, but not with me.” Killian bowed to let her clear that the conversation was over from his point of view. “Sorry Princess, but as appealing as it may look, I'm not going to have sex with you.”

"You're wasting my time!” She didn’t raise her voice, but she definitely looked furious now. “Guards!” She shouted, and when the door opened she ordered: “escort this man outside the Palace's boundaries."

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***

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Eight full moons after.

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Taverns in New Tolemac were scarce, leisure activities were not banned, but not happily welcomed either. The Crimson Crown was probably the worst tavern Killian had set foot in, and he had been in many of them. A band was trying to lighten the atmosphere, but the music was awful and the acoustics even worse. Killian didn't mind; his gaze fixed on the bottle he was grabbing. The glass long forgotten, he was swirling the amber liquid inside, or what was left of it. His senses were with him: the cold crystal in his hand, the out of tune string in his ears, the sour taste in his mouth; but his mind, his mind was in a place very, very far from where he was sitting.

"In which galaxy are you right now?"

He had completely zoned out and forgotten he had company. "Come again?" He tried to focus on the presence beside him.

"What's bothering you? And don't tell me it's nothing, 'cause that look on your face speaks volumes." 

Robin was his best friend, his only friend would be more exact to say. He wasn't from around here either, but he had been living in New Tolemac for much longer than Killian. The two of them had known each other since Killian had landed on this damned planet. 

Two foreigners, two lonely souls with no attachments, maybe that's why they connected so easily. 

But Killian was in no mood for conversation, not tonight. He was going to finally leave this planet once and for all: he had bought the last piece he needed to fix the engine of his spaceship first thing in the morning. A couple of days more just to arrange everything and he would pack his things and fly away. 

He had asked Robin to go with him, to search for a better life in a more hospitable place, and his friend eagerly accepted the invitation. They had ended up in that tavern to celebrate it. Killian should have been euphoric. But his guts were clenching. Why wasn’t he so happy to leave as he was supposed to be?

Nine months had passed since his unfortunate landing. So many more than those he would have stayed if he had had the chance to leave. Eight months since the day he met the Princess.

No, no, no. He thought, shaking his head. Don't let your mind go down that path again. He warned himself.

Killian drew the bottle up his lips, but a hand stopped his movement. 

"Easy. Don't you think you've had enough for tonight?"

"There's no such a thing as enough alcohol." He grunted, but the hand didn't relent. "Fuck off, Robin!" He exclaimed. 

"Your enchanting behavior doesn't work with me." Robin retorted ironically. "Come on, let's get out of this place." He added tugging at Killian's arm. 

The air outside was thick and humid. "Bloody summer" Killian cursed while stumbling over a little rock. As he regained balance he realized that maybe his friend was right, and even if he could hold his rum, he might have had too many drinks. 

They walked silently side by side for a while, since one of the perks of having a best friend is that you don't need to entertain the other person all the time. So Killian's mind started meandering through a road he had tried to avoid just a few minutes before.  

"It's completely bad form." He exclaimed eventually. 

"What is?" Robin asked, probably taken a little aback at his abrupt words. 

"I just wanted to help her. Why didn't she accept my help?" Killian went on without many further explications. 

"Wha...?" Robin started to ask, but then realization clearly struck him. "After all these months why are you still thinking about her?"

"Fucking ice bitch." Killian cursed. 

"I beg your pardon?" Robin was having problems in following his friend's thoughts. 

"It's the moniker I chose for her, don't you think it's accurate?" The other said as if it was the most obvious thing.

Robin shook his head. "It's not like you to talk this way about a woman. You must be really wasted." And after a moment of silence, each of them lost in their own inner world, Robin asked: "Are you sure you can get home safely by yourself?"

Killian stopped and realized that they had arrived at a crossroad where their paths back home diverged. "I'm fine, mate." He replied with a little persuading smile. 

"I'll call you in the morning... or not. You tend to be a bit irritable when you're hungover." 

"Good night to you, too." Killian answered back ironically. And they went separate ways.

The night was still young, at least for Killian's standards, so he decided to walk a bit more, clear his mind, and his feet brought him near the water. The sound of the ocean waves crashing into the shore had always calmed him. 

He inhaled deeply the salted breeze and for a while he just stood there staring into the horizon that was clearly visible due to the bright light of the three full moons. After a while lost in his thoughts, he was almost ready to call it a night when he noticed a presence not far from where he was standing. 

Someone was sitting on a large rock in a meditative position with straight back and crossed legs, hands resting on the knees. It was the Princess, as if she had somehow materialized from his thoughts. But how could it possibly be?

Maybe he had already passed out and was now dreaming, he thought, or maybe he was simply hallucinating because of the high level of alcohol in his veins. Otherwise, he would never have trespassed the Palace's limits without being aware of it, which could only mean problems.

He should turn back home, he knew it. But as a moth is attracted by a flame, he was drawn by her. While approaching her silhouette, he could make out her closed eyes. 

He didn’t mean to startle her, so he cleared his throat to announce his presence. The Princess opened only one eye; if she was surprised to see him she didn’t show it. “I’m trying to concentrate.” She closed her eye again and went on with whatever she was doing.

“Beautiful night, isn’t it?” He asked nonchalantly, disregarding her statement.

“Do you need help finding your way back home, Mr. Jones? From the smell that precedes you, I assume you may not have realized that you entered a property where you’re not welcome.” She said without changing her position.

“You remember me! It’s always a pleasure to know I did a good impression!” He exclaimed cheerfully. “I mean, it’s quite some time we haven’t come across each other.” But after a deeper glimpse at her, he realized that the curves of her dress weren’t the result of the breeze. She was very much pregnant. "And you clearly let that bastard fuck you." The words left his mouth before he could even think about them. 

She didn’t move, didn’t even open her eyes. He hadn’t exactly approached her with the intention to start an argument, but now that the cards were already on the table, there was no point in going back on his words, so he went on. "Of course you couldn't disappoint mom and daddy. But let me tell you one thing, no mother or father would ever do something like that to their own daughter.”

She was making an effort ignoring him if the sudden increase in her breathing rhythm was a hint, but that was all he obtained from her. “Don't you see it?” Killian insisted. “They are not some loving parents, you're just a pawn in their hands. They don't have a legitimate heir to the throne, because, oh what a shame, you are a girl! So they raised you just to give them what they've ever wanted: a boy." 

He knew he was hurting her. She hadn't moved a muscle during his speech, but he saw her bottom lip trembling in spite of her efforts to remain untouched. Nevertheless, he couldn’t give a damn. He had nothing to lose at this point. At least she would listen to everything he had needed to tell her since the day he left the Palace eight months before.

"Do you really think they will let you take care of your child? Don't be so naive. They will probably discard you as soon as you give birth. They have locked you inside this prison for all your life, a shiny beautiful cage, that is, but still a prison. You don't have a life of your own. They didn’t let anyone near you. Nobody knows you, and nobody will care about you when you will be expendable."

At those words she finally opened her eyes and if looks could kill he would be instantly dead. She was angry, he could see that, probably furious with him, but there was more, her eyes had become a little watery and a turmoil of feelings was passing through them, he could read it. He held a hand up and didn't let her speak "No need to call the guards this time. I'm going to walk myself out of this miserable place with great pleasure." 

Fucking ice bitch is not so icy after all. He thought while crossing the Royal Palace's limits. And yes, he was probably drunk, but not enough to forget that he didn't want to stay on this ridiculous planet another day more than necessary. He needed to repair his ship and fly far, far away from here as soon as he could. He would be damned if he didn't. 

[artistic-writer]

The Contract :: CS Omegaverse :: Ch 10 :: Rated E

Title: The Contract Rating: E Summary: Emma had never wanted much in her life, despite being married to one of the richest men in the world. For ten years she has felt like a prisoner in her own marriage, denied the one thing she wants the most, but her husband cannot help but bargain her want like a cheap business deal.  Enter Killian Jones, the Alpha her husband has hired to make sure she gets what she wants. And then some.

AO3 - Ko-Fi (100% of coffee’s bought go towards buying @adognamedkillian toys and treats!)

A/N: A full ch of smut.  Emma is in full heat and Killian will be in full rut in the next chapter (i know you’ve been waiting for that @courtorderedcake​ ).  I know you guys are probably getting sick of all the smut by now, but in case you are NOT, the end of this chapter should be enough of something else to think about until ch 11 is done.

Artwork by me, @artistic-writer 

This is an Omegaverse fic featuring A/B/O dynamics.  Whilst this varies from fandom to fandom, for the purposes of my fic, there will be no mpreg.  Just so you know.  There will however be knotting, breeding, heats and other delicious things that come along with A/B/O.  If you do not know what A/B/O is, feel free to message me :) 

If you wish to stay away from this fic, blacklist the A/B/O tag.

Taglist:  I’ll be honest, i have lost my taglist for this fic, so if you want a tag, please message me here on on discord (Salem #5158/ itwontalwaysbelikethis@gmail.com) and I’ll add you!  I’ve tagged the following people i KNOW want to read this, but i don’t want to accidentally tag you if you do not like ABO.

@hollyethecurious​ @shardminds​​ @kmomof4​​ @resident-of-storybrooke​​ @darkcolinodonorgasm​​ @thisonesatellite​​ @xemmaloveskillianx​​ @hookedonapirate​​ @teamhook​​ @winterbaby89​​ @carpedzem​​ @courtorderedcake​​ @profdanglaisstuff​​ @itsfabianadocarmo​​ @donteattheappleshook​​ @ultraluckycatnd @jennjenn615​​ @melly326​​ @klynn-stormz @stahlop​​ @tiganasummertree @gingerchangeling​​ @djlbg​​ 

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She loved him. Emma really loved him.

The comfortable silence that fell between them was like being put in a bubble, the safe place only they had access to, and the outside world banned from ever entering. Killian hadn’t been able to stop himself smiling at Emma’s revelation, one that had taken him pleasantly by surprise. He knew how he felt, and he had already told her as much, but he knew it wouldn’t be easy for Emma to admit how she felt, and he was okay with that. Her circumstances were a lot more complicated. At the very least, she was married.

Maybe telling her was too bold and had put her in a difficult position, but Killian had known deep down in his heart that his feelings for her, however frightening, were mutual. He could tell by the way she laughed, by the way she had a glow about her that had steadily grown brighter as they had spent more time together, and by the way that when he was due to leave her, she had become increasingly despondent. It broke his heart to leave her each time, and he was sure that now he knew she was Omega, his soul wouldn’t handle it if he had to leave her forever.

Graham Humbert was vile and Killian hated the man even more now than when he had first met him. A lot had changed since then, of course, but the one thing he still had in his favour was that he was legally Emma’s husband. Killian couldn’t deny how much that filled him with fury, knowing that Graham, the most ungrateful swine to ever walk the Earth, had a piece of paper that said, for all intents and purposes, he owned Emma. Emma wasn’t owned, she wasn’t property, and Killian knew just how to prove it.

Once his knot had receded enough, and Killian was content with the amount of time he had kissed Emma as she lay underneath him, he had gathered her up in his arms and taken her back to the shower. This time he had made sure she was looked after, steady hands and nimble fingers rubbing and massaging every inch of her skin and hair, washing away dried on slick and totally refreshing her. He had worn her out and it showed. Every one of her arm and leg muscles was tight, contracted to within an inch of its life, but as he kneaded the knots out of her, the permanent smile on her face told him she didn’t mind one bit.

At some point, Killian knew they would have to have a conversation addressing all of her earlier questions. The biggest worry on his mind was how he explained marking. For him it was easy. An Alpha could mark an Omega with her permission, and until one did, her body would beg for it, her subconscious making her say and do all sorts of things to entice the Alpha in. Killian wanted nothing more than to mark her and show the world that she was his, but there was still the rather gargantuan issue of Graham Humbert.

Her husband didn’t care for her; he couldn’t. What kind of man left his wife so unsatisfied that she yearned for the touch of another? What kind of man dared to lay hands on the woman he had sworn to love until death do they part? Killian hated thinking about the Humbert’s, and he wished he had never set eyes on the man Emma had married, but if Graham had never been such a bastard, Killian would have never met Emma. In a twisted conclusion, if Humbert had accepted his fate as a Beta and embraced it, Emma would have never needed Killian. Or maybe she would have. Killian didn’t know, but what he did know was that fate had brought them together when they both needed it to, and for that, he was forever grateful.

He’d carried her out of the shower bridal style and set her down on a fluffy, white towel he had stretched out across the black marble countertop beside the sink. Another appeared in his hand and he wrapped it around her, draping the soft cotton over her shoulders and rubbing down the length of her arms to dry her and chase away the shiver that had crept under her skin. He loved it, the little intimacy he was sure, judging by her reaction and the ever present smile plastered on her face, Emma hadn’t really experienced. Being Alpha was more than rutting and fucking and he for one loved the closeness that caring for Emma the way she deserved offered him.

“Thank you,” Emma said softly after a hum of appreciation. She could dry herself but it was nice to be doted on so fondly.

“You’re most welcome, love,” Killian smiled back, tightening the towel around her. He loved to watch her like this, loved to see her so unworried, but his eyes drifted to the cut under her right eye that had never really stopped bleeding since their first shower. He had tried to avoid it as much as possible as he had washed her, but now the heat of the spray had opened it back up and pink, watery trickle was running down her cheek. He frowned, his jaw muscles tightening under his stubble.

“What’s wrong?” Emma asked, concerned by the way his smile had suddenly faded.

“This,” Killian ground out. He lifted his hand and cupped her face, taking the weight of her head in his hands as he gingerly ran his thumb under the angry red swell that surrounded the split under her eye. “This needs a stitch.”

Emma pouted a little but she knew he was right. She nodded in agreement and pulled the towel around herself as Killian dropped into a crouch and pulled open a small cupboard underneath the sink. He fished around inside for a few seconds before reappearing again with a small plastic box in his hands, the lid popping open as he placed it on the countertop next to her.

“I’ll do my best not to hurt you,” Killian told her softly, using a finger to part the fabric band aids and medical tape as he tried to find the small self-adhesive strips that he would use to close the split.

“I know,” Emma said and to emphasize her words, she poked her hand out of her towel shawl and took his in hers, lifting it to her mouth and pressing a kiss to his palm.

Killian watched her and a loving smile pulling at the corner of his lips. Her lips were so soft and yet electrified his skin, causing all of his forearm hair to stand to attention. Emma’s hands snaked around his limb, holding onto it with a firm but gentle hold as Killian plucked one of the little white strips out of their packet and peeled off the backing strip. Emma gulped and he nodded at her reassuringly before moving the strip towards her cut, one arm free and the other guided by her. The first strip went on somewhat awkwardly and Killian laughed.

“Love, I think I need my hand back for this one.” He held up his hand, the back of another stitch already peeled off and the sterile stripe stuck to the tip of his finger. Emma knew this one would hurt because of the apology in Killian’s eyes, but nevertheless, she let go of his arm and sucked in a long, deep breath. “Breathe, alright?” Killian encouraged with a nod.

“Okay,” Emma agreed, nodding back. When Killian stuck one end of the strip to one side of her cut she winced and grabbed his arm to halt any more pulling of her skin. Killian stopped his movements instantly when he noticed her hesitation and met her worried gaze. “You said you wouldn’t hurt me,” she whimpered in anticipation of his question, her fingernails digging into his forearm.

“I need to pull the edges together and it might hurt for a second,” he told her honestly. He could tell by the way her expression changed that she knew he was right, and when she let go of his arm, Killian took a few long, deep breaths in an attempt to coax her into copying him. “On three,” he said firmly. “One, two…”

There was no three. Killian simultaneously pulled the strip and pushed up her cheek until the sides of her wound met, securing the strip in place as quickly as he could. Emma’s entire body jumped on the spot and her leg shot out and kicked his knee in response, pain throbbing through her cheek and her watery eyes wide with disbelief.

“Son of a bitch!” Emma cried, one hand covering her now stitched cut and the other shooting out in a mirrored action of her leg and slapping Killian across the face. The smack echoed in the tiled room and his head turned with the force of it. Emma immediately drew her hand back to cover her mouth with a gasp, her cheeks flushing red. “Oh my god, Killian, I’m sorry,” she said hurriedly, her heart hammering in her chest at the sight of him gritting his teeth.

“It’s quite alright,” he ground out, giving his head a shake and rubbing his jaw.

“I didn’t mean to,” Emma fussed, reaching out for him in more of an apology.

“I know,” he assured her, forcing a smile even though he had struggled to hear her over the ringing in his ears. He plucked her hand out of the air and dragged his lips across her palm, soothing the sting that had edged its way to her fingertips. “It’s just your body reacting to pain, your fight or flight response.”

“Wouldn’t I have had that before?” Emma frowned, cupping his jaw.

“Yes, but you wouldn’t have listened to it. Now you’re more in tune with who you really are, everything is more acute.” After a few seconds of her hand on his face the buzz in his ears faded out and it just left the throbbing in his neck from how hard Emma had slapped him. She was strong, he’d give her that, mentally and, as he had just learned, physically too.

“I’m so sorry,” Emma repeated, her cheeks turning pink.

“It’s alright, love, really,” Killian assured her again with a nod, his voice softer now the shock had left him. He pulled her into his arms and tightened his hold around her smaller frame in a crushing hug. Her drying hair stuck to the hook-like hairs on his chin when he turned his head to kiss her crown, but he quickly righted it by smoothing the hair back over the shape of her skull. “You’ve quite the right hook.” He smiled, impressed.

That made her laugh and Killian could see her relax, her shoulders slumping and the corners of her perfect lips ticking up into a smirk of agreement. She was still as fierce as she was a few days ago and he could see her sass brimming just under the surface, still ever ready and still very Emma. He got lost in her eyes when she looked up at him with nothing but love shining behind the green hues, real love that he wasn’t sure he had ever seen before, or would ever see again. And it was the best kind of pure love that was only for him. Emma might have been smiling in the photos he saw in the house she shared with Graham, but she wasn’t smiling until she was with him.

A shiver shook her entire body, her teeth chattering where she sat on the countertop to the side of the sink. Killian noticed immediately, rubbing the sides of her arms and then the tops of her legs, but underneath the towel, she was bone dry. Her hair, still wet and keeping her cold, needed to be dried. Killian grabbed another towel, a dark navy blue one, and laid it over the top of her head before gently massaging his fingers against the luxurious fibres in an attempt to soak up the excess water keeping the chill in her bones.

“Don’t you have a hairdryer?” Emma laughed, her head flopping from side to side with his rubbing.

“Whatever for?” Killian teased, one eyebrow jumping up on his brow.

Emma narrowed her eyes at him and simultaneously raked them over his features, trying to assess his mockery with a scoff. “Please! Like you don’t have a hairdryer.” She cast one more glance up at his own still wet but perfectly styled hair with curious fancy. “No, you definitely have a hairdryer,” she said confidently but Killian’s boyish smirk made her second guess herself.

“Do I?” He asked her playfully.

“Yes?” Emma said but the tone of her voice, jumping at the end, betrayed her reservation. “Do you?” She squeaked with laughter.

“I do,” Killian conceded, joining her in laughter. “But you must never tell my brother.”

“Well, I’ve only just learned you have a brother, so…” Emma’s words trailed off and for a second she simply took him in, wondering if his brother was just as handsome. “Is he an Alpha?” Emma asked inquisitively, pure wonder in her voice.

“Aye,” Killian said playfully, drawing out the word with a sideways glare. “He is.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Emma added quickly, noticing the flare of his nostrils and the way his hand on her thigh gripped a little tighter. She spread her legs, inviting him into the space by lightly tugging at the curve of his hips and he followed obediently. “I only have eyes for one Alpha.”

Killian’s hands skimmed up and over the curve of her knees, under the towel and along the length of her outer thigh, enjoying the way goosebumps rose under the pads of his fingers at his touch. She practically purred through her smile, her hands meeting behind his head and her fingers interlocking, forming a cradle for his skull. She pulled his face towards hers, his lips curving into a knowing smirk, his tongue darting out to taste her bottom lip just before she surged forward and inhaled him in her kiss. It wasn’t just her eyes that only had one Alpha in mind. Emma’s body was singing for him too already.

Killian kissed her back, aggressive and commanding, greedy hands tearing off her towel and grabbing at her flesh where he was assuredly leaving the indents of his fingernails as crescent-shaped blemishes against her skin that would be the closest thing to marking her he could get right now. Her tongue invited his inside her mouth and they danced around each other as her fingers grabbed at his hair, guiding the angle of his lips against hers. Her scent gland spiked, a new wave of her arousal mixing with her Omega scent, calling to the beast inside of him, and before Killian had time to react logically, his fingers were brushing over the gland in her neck to coax out more of the delicate aroma.

She put his head in a spin and the soft, breathy moans tumbling from Emma’s mouth as he skirted his kisses to the corner of her lips and along her cheek made his cock swell underneath the towel slung low on his hips. Her hands flattened out over the ridges of his shoulder blades, her head falling back into his awaiting hand, and his lips changed direction, peppering more kisses over her chin and along the side of her jaw.

“Only I can make you feel this way, Omega,” he growled against the underside of her jaw. One of his hands nudged between her thighs where he found her already sodden, and he grinned wickedly when her legs fell open and she whimpered his name. “Make you so, so, wet for me,” he cooed, his breath ghosting over her scent gland when he had reached the juncture of her neck.

Emma whined, quaking in his hold. Her body cried out for his bite, the only way she knew to quell the ache in her bones and the twist in her gut, even if she didn’t know how she knew it. Every second spent with Killian made something else in her body wake up and she was learning to listen to each whisper with vigour rather than fear. What was once the most terror-inducing thing to happen in her life had blossomed into such an insatiable need, one that had become like a drug, rendering her helpless and in need of Killian more than she ever thought possible. His kisses peppered her scent gland and she arched into him, the throbbing in her neck almost as painful as the ache between her thighs.

“Such a good girl,” Killian praised, grazing his teeth over her gland. “My good girl,” he growled.

“Yes,” Emma hissed. Her fingernails clawed into the back of his head and she felt the rumble of his groan down deep in her soul.

Killian’s hand between her thighs, coaxing the slick from her body, was like fire in her veins. The more he stroked, the hotter she became, a yearning for his knot burning her up from the inside. Emma had once thought she needed Killian because she needed an escape from the way she was a prisoner in her own life, but in reality, she had needed him like the oxygen she breathed. They had a connection that transcended time and space and without him, Emma felt like she would suffocate and die.

“You found me,” she whispered in a breathy pant, her voice almost inaudible. His lips on her skin made it almost impossible to comprehend what she was feeling, or how to properly convey what she needed him to know, but with a few targeted tugs against the edge of his towel, it was soon slipping off Killian’s hips and leaving him naked before her, letting him know exactly what she wanted from him.

“I’ll always find you,” Killian vowed and with his words, Emma was hoisted up into his arms, the towel she had been wrapped in also sliding to the floor. Instinctively, she wrapped her legs around his waist, settling into his arms, clutching his face in her hands and making sure not an inch of his skin was spared from her feverish kisses. He spun them around to leave the bathroom, the motion making him dizzy, and he had to stop himself from falling forward with a powerful grip. “You’re my Omega now,” Killian promised protectively. “No harm will ever come to you as long as there is breath in my lungs and my heart beats strong in my chest.”

In the time it took Killian to declare his undying devotion, he had reached the bed once more and was settling Emma down in the most comfortable position he could find. Emma lay back without prompting, her knees falling open to create the inviting space between them that swirled with the scent of her arousal and made Killian giddy. His hands roamed her body, paying special attention to the tenderness of her breasts, warm, roughened palms cradling each before his tongue went to work tasting the skin of each nipple, peaked hard and more sensitive with every suck. A new contraction plagued Emma’s insides, seemingly pulling in both directions at once and the tearing sensation made her cry out in agony at the same time her back arched off the bed and into Killian’s touch.

“It hurts,” Emma whined, somewhat distracted by how intense her latest muscle spasm was. “Please, Alpha, make me better.”

There was no waiting around this time or wondering if or how he might hurt her. Killian surged up her body, pinning her to the bed with a firm hand on her hip and slipped his cock through her folds and into the cavernous warmth of her with a shudder. He would never get tired of the way Emma’s body reacted to his, the slight hesitation of her muscles at his girth less now that she knew what she was. Alphas and Omegas were made for each other, literally two bodies that fit together so perfectly there would be no other, Killian like the key that had unlocked an entirely new, and now free, Emma.

The second he was inside of her, Emma’s body began to quiver, her muscles shuddering along his length and pulling some of his seed out prematurely. Killian didn’t fight it, pushing harder into her until he felt the heat from her opening burning the base of his cock, the blood pulsing around his knot like a massage. Emma hardly noticed he had grunted in release, probably because he was still rock solid inside of her, her hips attempting the cant against him for more. Killian paused, stopping to regain his composure and to take in the sight of her, glorious and precious underneath him, his knot poking out of its sheath at the blissful smile across her lips.

“Your knot,” Emma begged and she reached down as far as she could to clutch at the fuzzy globes of his behind, her legs spreading impossibly wider in an attempt to fit more of him in.

“I know, Omega,” Killian soothed. He reached for the sheet, cast down the bed somewhere from his movements, and wiped it across Emma’s brow to mop up her heat-induced sweating, her serene smile gracing her face once more. “I just need a moment,” Killian ground out, his body betraying his words as his hips pulled back as far as her grip would allow and some of the mixture of her slick and his come dribbled out of her.

“Am I too much?” she teased, her nose brushing over the tip of his and a coy smirk playing across her lips now that her womb no longer felt the need to evacuate her body.

Killian chuckled and buried his face into the crook of her neck, nuzzling her scent gland so it released a little more of its intoxicating aroma. Emma’s arms were around him and she craned her neck towards him, enticing him, teasing him so much that Killian couldn’t help but run his tongue over the gland with a feral growl. His grip on her hip tightened and his fingernails broke the skin there as his resolution was tested, his nostrils flaring as he inhaled her scent and felt the effects instantly. He pulled back with the last thread of resolve he had left, sitting back on his knees between her spread legs and busying himself with tracing the faint, silvery stretch marks on her inner thighs to ground the inner beast.

“Am I?” Emma asked again, the tone of her voice betraying her anxiety. She tore her eyes from his, turning her head away with a blush as she attempted to hide.

“No, no, no, Omega,” Killian whispered with a patient shake of his head.

He knew her emotions were still wildly erratic, and one minute she would be up and the next down and the last thing he would ever want was for her to question how much she meant to him. Or how much he needed her just as much as she needed him. Killian’s hands skimmed up her torso, the fine sheen of heat-induced sweat covering her body clinging to his fingertips until he was able to hook a crooked finger under her jaw and coax her head back to his. Emma moved her head with very little resistance and looked up at him through her lashes.

“No,” Killian repeated firmly, cradling her chin in his hand so she couldn’t look away. “Never. You hear me. Never.”

“I’m sorry,” Emma whispered in a hushed voice. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

Killian cocked his head sideways. “Hey, why are you sorry?” Emma shrugged and Killian could see the water pooling in her eyes. “You’ve no need to apologize, love. Never apologize for who you are, not now you know,” he said a little louder, partly making sure she was hearing his words, and partly because of the rage he held for her so-called husband who he was sure was responsible for her apology in the first instance. “You’re the most delicate treasure any man would be lucky to find, and I for one am thanking the gods for every second I get to spend with you to show you just that.”

“You are?” The damn broke and a single tear rolled down Emma’s cheek when she blinked and it was pushed from her eyelids.

“Aye, you daft thing!” Killian quickly cupped her face in his hand, brushing away the wet streak marring her skin with the pad of his thumb before pressing his lips to hers. Emma’s lip quivered against his and Killian pushed harder, giving everything he had in a silent declaration of his love, his mouth sealing his promise where words might have fallen short. Emma kissed him back after a few seconds, whimpering, her hormones turning her body blazing hot beneath him.

Killian listened to her body as it sang its sweet song to him, his cock began to harden again, the strain of his knot starting to become painful. There would be no telling Emma, not in the state she was in, so he would have to show her. He sat back up, careful not to hurt her as he shimmied himself down off her body and pushed her legs together. Emma gave him a slightly confused stare before Killian bit his bottom lip and waggled his eyebrows playfully, encouraging her to roll over.

“Let me show you, darling,” Killian growled, feeling the shape of Emma’s calves under his hands as they floated up towards the globes of her behind, fingertips dancing over her skin and causing goosebumps in their wake.

If there was one thing Killian knew about Emma it was what made her feel good. During their many encounters, he had experimented, using her flexibility to his advantage to find the most intimate areas within her that would have Emma screaming his name. Of course, that was until he found out who Emma really was, what she was, and the anticipation of feeling her around him as he took her from behind now had him almost salivating with need.

His actions became a little rougher, his fingers slipping between the crease of her arse and pushing down to her centre, the greed for what lay there ingrained in his very soul. Hot, slippery slick mixed with his premature release coated his fingers and Killian could barely wait the second it took to lift his hand to his lips, tongue darting out to meet it halfway and lapping their essences up in an instant. He groaned out loud, the deep rumble of content accompanied by a grab of Emma’s behind to try and ground himself from the heaven he was busy enjoying so engagingly.

Without prompting, Emma lifted her hips higher, mewling, begging for more of him, any part of him, to quell the fire currently raging inside of her. Killian took his opportunity, surging forward and burying his face between her thighs, pushing them apart with the width of his face so he could lick her from clit to pulsating centre and savour the bounty her body had offered him so readily. She tasted exactly how she smelled, like the finest wine only he could taste, her heat causing every little touch, nibble and lick he was giving her to be amplified tenfold.

“So sweet,” he uttered, smacking his lips together. “You’re so fucking delicious, Omega.”

“Alpha,” Emma breathed, unable to focus on anything except his fingers prepping her for the girth of him. She wanted him - no, needed him - inside her now. “Please let me have it.”

Killian pulled back, quickly wiping the back of his hand across his mouth, biting his bottom lip as, with a firm slap, he sent Emma’s body crashing down on the bed once more. She let out a shriek of excitement, burying her face into the pillows, tossed askew by their activities, her whole body trembling and her heart pounding in her chest. Killian got her blood racing and since finding out she was Omega it had been like a light had been turned on, the way to her pleasure lit for him by the bloodborne torchbearers on every thump of her heart. She knew he could smell her blood, could smell her scent as it tore through her veins, luring him in and making him lose what little control he had left.

And she loved every second of it.

Killian climbed up over her, pinning her legs together with his own, his knees resting on either side of her thighs. He was panting, sweat dripping from the hair flopping over his brow onto Emma’s back where it practically sizzled away on the heat of her skin. Emma wiggled, enticing the beast inside of him with the promise of a chase she knew he would never have to carry out, but still loved the way it thrilled him into a frenzy. When Emma felt the tip of his length, hot and hard as it poked between her cheeks and nudged into her entrance, she felt a sudden relief, and when he was fully sheathed inside of her, she felt like she was floating.

“Alpha,” she whispered breathlessly, her world spinning. “Take me,” Emma begged, clenching her muscles in an attempt to get him moving. “Please make me come.”

The ferocious growl that Killian let out made her flush hot beneath him in anticipation of what he would do next. His hands on the small of her back braced his weight as he slipped out of her and then slipped back into her torturously slow with shaking hips. He was trying to keep his composure, caught between leaving her satisfied and easing her pain, but Emma’s body was crying out for quick and hard. Every Alpha had stamina, but the mark of a true Alpha was keeping cool under the thrall of an Omega in peak heat, enough to keep her sated as often as she needed him.

But by the Gods if Emma wasn’t making it the most difficult thing he had ever faced.

“Omega,” Killian warned gruffly, his voice deepened with desire. “You’re really hell-bent on ending me, aren’t you?”

Emma shot him a quick glance over her shoulder. “Only until I get what I want,” Emma smirked playfully.

Killian canted his hips harder, finding the deepest spot within her with a little more force than needed, making her gasp with exhilaration. “You are such a bad girl,” Killian purred darkly, the feel of her around him pulling him into oblivion. Emma whined at his words and Killian cloaked her in his weight, tucking one arm around and under her throat and holding her body still with the other. “And you like it a little rough, don’t you, sweet thing?”

His lips pressed to the side of her face felt like a brand on her skin, searing the shape of his smirk into the side of her face. His breath was hot, damp residue from his pants coating her already clammy skin, his cock rock hard inside her only just soothing the ache that threatened to burn her up from the inside. He pushed himself inside of her again and all of the air left her, the white behind her eyelids flashing brighter with every thrust, her body pressed harder into the bed as Killian doubled his efforts and she felt the pressure of his knot against her opening.

“Oh!” she breathed at the sudden sensation and her hand found the headboard, her nails clawing into the fabric.

“Oh, aye, love,” Killian growled darkly. He rearranged himself, broad hands holding her down, the thrill of doing so making his knot pop out of its sheath and his hips to stutter with his pace. “Here it comes, Omega,” he ground out. “Take my knot.”

With one last thrust, Emma was calling out his name and his title, fingers bunching the sheet in her hand as her body simultaneously stiffened and began to violently quake against Killian’s weight. He pressed inside harder as he came, loving the way Emma cried out in pleasurable pain as he made sure his knot was fully seated inside of her, blood engorging the bulb and making sure he wasn’t leaving the spot he loved the most any time soon. Killian tried to ignore the spike of scent from Emma’s gland, a task made easier by their position, but his hazy vision remained from the force of their union.

“Fuck, Emma,” Killian sighed breathlessly, his legs shaking.

“Oh my God,” Emma whimpered, the full force of her orgasm washing through her and leaving her a quivering mess.

Killian grinned boyishly, his forehead pressed to the uppermost ridge of her spine. With a chuckle he ground himself into her harder, snaking a hand between them and pulling her cheek aside so that he could make sure he was fully enveloped in her warmth, her muscles twitching and massaging the curvature of his knot bulb. He hissed when she tried to shift, pulling at his knot as she slid one leg across the sheets and grabbed his hand, pushing it down between her legs and using his fingers to prolong her pleasure.

“Mmmm,” Emma hummed with a note of serenity in her voice.

“You like that, love?” Killian purred. Her clit was slippery with slick and his digit glided over the hardened bundle of nerves effortlessly when he followed her prompt. “You want a little more from your Alpha?”

“I just want to feel like this a little longer,” Emma pouted.

“Like what?” Killian asked softly, slowing his stroking to a steady rhythm that had Emma’s heart picking up in her chest. “Like this?”

Emma sighed, her head spinning as her already spent body became more and more primed under his assault. Killian rolled them over, careful not to hurt her as he settled them on their sides and his hand continued the friction between her legs that threatened to set her on fire. Emma bit down on her bottom lip so hard her skin turned white, her eyes fluttering closed as she nodded. It was all she could do, her muscles already twitching around his knot as another orgasm crept up on her and her body began the now familiar dance of yearning for the pleasure she had only ever felt since meeting Killian.

Killian tucked his chin into the juncture of her neck, letting the scent of her invade his senses as he inhaled her. His teeth grazed over the gland there, sending his head into a spin and causing him to quicken the pace he had set with his fingers when he realised she was close. He alternated between pushing on her clit and rubbing it from side to side, the filthy sounds Emma was making as she begged for more sending his stomach dropping away from him, and the beast inside to come back out to play.

“I want more,” Emma whined. Her fingers wrapped around his wrist, guiding him harder and faster on the slippery nub.

“There is no more,” Killian growled into her hair. “You already have my knot, Omega.”

Emma let out a whimper, almost a sob at the fact she couldn’t have his knot again so quickly, but she should have known that Killian wouldn’t leave her disappointed. He lifted her leg over his hip, opening the apex of her thighs for him and exposing her red hot clit to the cooler air of the room, something that made Emma gasp. He canted his hips, forcing his knot bulb harder into her until he felt the spongy front walls of her cavern twitch from the contact, and resumed the torture on the bundle of nerves between her legs, pushing himself impossibly deeper each time he heard Emma cry out his name until she had no words and was shaking in his arms from another climax.

He relaxed a little, easing his hold on her as much as he could without pulling against his knot, his hands skimming over her hips lovingly and his kisses following suit, quick pecks to her skin to soothe the adrenaline of extra stimulation.

“Emma, love,” he panted but he had no other words, despite needing to say and promise so much to the Omega beside him, but he hoped, as he pressed his lips to the sweaty ridge of each bump of her spine in a soothing kiss, she understood exactly what he intended to say.

“I know, Alpha,” Emma muttered, emotion clogging up her throat. She reached an arm behind her head and threaded her fingers through the length of his messy hair, soaked with sweat and jet black, gently guiding his lips back to her skin, craning her neck with a smirk when he peppered kisses over the skin behind her ear. “I love you too, Killian Jones.”

--

Graham Humbert did not need to be interrupted. He had been hounded all day at work with frivolous tasks he most definitely was sure he paid other people a lot of money to make sure never crossed his desk, and then he had had to listen to his father reprimand him about how he had let his wife, a ‘prized omega’, go. Like Graham had tried to explain to his hot-headed Alpha father, no one let Emma do anything; she was, and always would be, her own person, regardless of if the Humbert Alphas thought they owned her.

God, he hated family sometimes, but not as much as the incessant chime of the doorbell and the fact he had sent all the help home earlier than planned and had to interrupt his brooding to answer the door himself. The tips of his ears burned with rage, but as soon as he pulled open the door a little harder than necessary, they cooled instantly and a new ire overwhelmed him.

“Mother?” Graham said, his voice full of annoyed surprise that he couldn’t hide.

“Well, don’t just stand there,” the older woman scoffed, breezing right through the doorway and passed a dumbstruck Graham. "Invite your mother in."

"To what do I owe this pleasure?" Graham enquired, closing the door behind his mother and following her into the lobby. The sound of her heels clicking against the floor made his ears hurt and he pinched his brow in frustration. "And so late in the day too," he uttered under his breath.

"Can't a mother visit her son without all the suspicion?" Diana Humbert smiled the same sickly sweet, fake smile she had always done when he was growing up and Graham thought he might throw up. "You're right," she conceded, fixing the strap of her purse that had flipped itself over and began creasing the sleeve of her very expensive jacket. "I’m not here to see you. I've come to see Emma."

Graham clenched his jaw at his wife's name, the bruises on his knuckles beginning to itch at the mere thought of her. "Can I ask why?" Graham wasn’t sure if his father had made time to tell his wife what had happened and his mother was being intentionally deceptive, or she really had no idea. Considering his father’s rarity for spending any sort of casual time with his wife, Graham figured the latter was probably the case.

"Never you mind that!" Diana laughed, her perfectly quaffed hairstyle not moving a single iota when she tossed her head back and the sound tumbled from her highly glossed pink lipstick covered lips. "Just ladies things." Her laughter died off and she cast a quick glance around the deserted lobby of the Humbert mansion but found no sign of Emma anywhere. "Now, be a dear and fetch that pretty young thing of a daughter in law for me, would you?"

[terreisa]

Love Down the Line: Chapter 9

The last thing Indie musician Emma Swan needs is a gigantic wrench thrown in the workings of her biggest tour to date weeks before its launch.  When her backing guitarist that caused the problem says she has the perfect solution Emma is skeptical but left with little choice but to accept.  Unfortunately she isn’t really prepared for said solution to be former Rock Star and leading man of Emma’s teenage fantasies, Killian Jones.  With no other options and a month of performing across the country ahead of her Emma just hopes she doesn’t come to regret letting Killian onto her stage and into her life.

Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 5, Ch 6, Ch 7, Ch 8, AO3

~*CS*~

Los Angeles, May 24th

“-and there’s a bit of a backup on the 405 just south of the 10 due to a two car accident in the southbound lanes.  That’s the morning traffic report brought to you by your local Southern California Honda dealer.  This is Treena in the morn’ and I got some Yaz on the way along with Echo and the Bunnymen and Talking Heads after this-”

“A clock radio?” Emma mumbled into the pillow, “Really?  What are you, like, three hundred?”

Killian’s chuckle stirred the hair at the back of her neck, “Try thirty-five, love.”

“So you say,” she groused as he reached over her to turn off the alarm.  She blinked up at him as he set his hands on either side of her shoulders, looming over her with a smile, “I bet you still have a landline, old man.”

“And a rather impressive laserdisc collection,” he said with a wink.

“You would.”

He laughed, a bright joyous thing that had her smile stretching from ear to ear.  It was the last of the three days of no shows that they had while in LA and the second morning she’d woken in the bed of Killian’s house in Malibu.  Since their first night together in Denver they hadn’t slept apart, much to Tink’s delight and Will’s annoyance.  When they’d arrived in LA Emma had been surprised and pleased to discover that Killian had a house there where no one would disturb them as long as they kept their phones on silent.  Unfortunately it hadn’t really been an option as her suddenly vibrating phone reminded her.

“What time is Regina sending the car?” Killian asked as he dipped his head and started trailing kisses down her throat.

She hummed in pleasure, blindly swiping at her phone to dismiss the call, “Nine.  We’re having brunch with people from the label to talk about the next album and then it’s interviews for the rest of the afternoon.”

“And after all that we’ll rendezvous back here for dinner and a bit of Netflix and chill,” he murmured into her collarbone before dragging his tongue across it.

“You go-” her breath hitched as his hand travelled up her thigh, “going somewhere?”

He paused his ministrations, much to her frustration, and said somberly, “Aye, Robin still lives out here with his son.  I haven’t been in town for… well, quite a while and I’m long overdue for a visit.”

The delicious tension she’d been feeling mellowed into something warm and soothing at his earnestness.  Ever since they’d landed he’d waxed nostalgic about all the things he’d used to do in the city, places he’d eaten that he wasn’t sure were still around, venues he’d played, museums he’d spent hours getting lost in and all the interesting people he’d met in that time.  What he hadn’t mentioned once was his former bandmate and friend.  In the bright morning light streaming through the wall of windows she could see that for some reason he was nervous about seeing him again.

“You guys talk all the time,” she reminded him, reaching up to run her fingers through his hair and cupping his cheek, “I interrupted one of your FaceTime dates just a couple of days ago.”

Killian chuckled, “Aye, and don’t think I haven’t received more than my fair share of nosey texts about that since.”

She blushed, forgetting that when she’d done the interrupting she’d been wearing one of his shirts and not much else.

“Seeing as Robin has come to Boston several times in the years that I’ve been there it’s only fitting that he gets to monopolize some of my time while I’m here,” he said, one shoulder lifting higher than the other in a half shrug. “I’ll be home by the time you’re done with your interviews.”

“You don’t have to rush back just for me,” she said quickly, guilt already pulling at her, “Just text me when your male bonding time is over.”

“We’ll deal with the logistics later, love,” he murmured, turning his head slightly to press a kiss to her palm, “For now I’d like to pick up where we left off before-”

Emma sighed in disappointment as her phone began to vibrate again.  Knowing that Regina was the only one who would not only call but do so before nine a.m. no matter the time zone she couldn’t ignore it.  She’d made the mistake of doing it before a show in Arizona once and had sworn Regina would have pushed her into the Grand Canyon if she’d been given the opportunity.

Gently nudging Killian off of her with an apology she sat up and grabbed her phone.  Killian sat up behind her, pushing her hair to one side as he nuzzled into her neck.  Giggling but in no way discouraging him she swiped up to answer.

Regina started talking the second the call connected, “The car will be there in thirty minutes to take you straight to the restaurant-”

“Wait, what?” Emma jerked away from Killian’s ministrations to look at the clock on the bedside table and saw it was only a little after seven. “I thought you said it’d be here at nine!”

“Plans have changed,” Regina said off-handedly. “The brunch meeting is now a breakfast meeting and I’ve pushed up one of your radio interviews to give you the time you’ll need for the streaming exclusives.”

“Exclusives?” She asked warily.

“Enchanted XM wants you to curate a ten song playlist and record intros for their Alt Rock station and then there will be an in-depth interview with one of their djs.  Snowdrops and Buttercups has been their number one request since its debut and is poised to take the number one spot on the chart next week.  It’s also been getting increasing play on their hits station.  We need to strike while the iron’s hot.”

Emma tipped her head back to stare at the ceiling as she counted to ten to keep her patience.  She was well aware that self promotion came with the territory, especially as a solo artist, and usually she had no problem giving interviews or whatever little fun extras needed to do so.  What she hated was that Regina tended to take liberties with her schedule whenever they were in a big enough city and there was extra down time.  It was all the more frustrating that Regina knew that things between her and Killian had shifted and apparently didn’t care about infringing on their time alone together.

“We’ll still be done by six right?” She asked, resigned, Killian’s warm hand gliding across her shoulders calming her much more than her counting had.

“Yes,” Regina huffed and Emma could practically hear her eyes rolling, “You and lover boy can have your romantic evening together and don’t think we won’t be discussing how to play whatever it is you two are doing to the press.”

“Really?” She growled.

“Really.”

Before Emma could even begin to shoot down that idea Regina had hung up, leaving her staring at the phone in her hand with disbelief and anger.  Even Killian’s gentle ministrations were no longer helping.

“I need to get ready,” she said mournfully, moving to stand from the bed.

Killian stopped her with a hand on her wrist, “Everything alright, love?”

“Yeah, everything’s great.  The meeting with the label got moved and there’s already a car on its way.  Which normally wouldn’t be a big deal but-” she shrugged, still angry but also starting to blush, “We were getting to the good stuff.”

“That we were,” he agreed with a salacious grin.  Then the grin faded and he narrowed his eyes at her, “Was there something else she said?  You seem upset over more than just an earlier meeting.”

Emma hesitated.  As much as she wanted to share her frustration with Regina dictating her life she couldn’t do so without bringing up the questions she’d successfully avoided since the morning after they’d first slept together.  First and foremost, was what they were doing just as important to him as it was to her and if it was, then what did that mean for them once the tour was over and they returned to their respective lives.  Chickening out she figured they could talk it over later, when there wasn’t a time constraint or a full day of interviews where she’d need to keep focused.

She shook her head and smiled, “Nothing you need to worry about.  Regina just has me getting some list of songs together for some streaming thing and I have no idea what I’m going to pick.  It takes me two hours to edit the playlists I already have, how the hell am I supposed to choose ten songs and then talk about them?”

“Simple, pick one of your playlists, put it on random and the first ten songs that play are the ones you choose,” he said easily. “You already know and enjoy those songs if you spent two hours picking them and there’s no pressure of trying to curate a perfect list from scratch.”

“That’s… actually a really good idea-” she beamed, grabbing her phone and bouncing up from the bed.  She spun around and gave what she hoped was a come hither look, “You know, I hear California is in a drought.  It’d be a shame to waste water by taking separate showers.”

His lips curled wickedly, “I’d say that I love the way your mind works, Swan.”

Taking his hand she led him into the bathroom and made good use of the less than twenty minutes they had before her car arrived.  Several hours later, however, she wished she had pushed back a little more against the schedule Regina had set up for her.  Of course she’d had no way of knowing that her too short morning with Killian was going to be the least stressful of her day.

Sitting in one of the green rooms at Enchanted XM between the recording session for her song picks and her interview she let her eyes slide shut.  It had already been a long day and it was nowhere near being over and done with.  The breakfast meeting had been good, the representatives from the label had been pleased that she had already written a few songs that she felt were strong contenders for the next album and they had easily agreed to giving her three months off after the tour to work on the rest.  Even Regina had been pleased with the meeting, if her short and not too unreasonable list of demands for moving forward were any indication.

The interview she’d done directly after had been the kind that she’d gotten used to over the years.  Questions that were more often than not the same ones others had asked her time and again.  She’d gotten good at making it sound like she was hearing them for the first time and varying her answers just enough so she didn’t sound like a robot.  The best part were the teasing texts from Killian waiting for her once she was done.  She was surprised and touched that he had taken the time out of his day to listen to her interview, especially since he knew how unexciting they could be.

As her day continued Regina had left her to make her way to the Enchanted XM studios on her own.  Once there she had immediately had to get to work ironing out her list of songs and recorded the intros with the program producer.  It had been more fun than she’d anticipated.  She’d already had her choices written down in one of her ever present notebooks, having listened to a randomized playlist in the car on her way to breakfast like Killian had suggested.  The first ten songs that had played had been perfect but she’d made one substitution to make sure that a Realm of Jewels song was one of her picks.  It was her thank you to Killian for giving her the idea in the first place and a not so subtle wink to whatever was going on between them.

The producer, a woman named Gwen, had been impressed with her choices.  They’d spent nearly an hour talking them over, working through a rough script of what she would say about each one.  Then she had been taken to a small recording booth where it had taken less than an hour to get what they needed.  She’d wanted to text Killian about it but Gwen had immediately invited her to lunch and she hadn’t had the chance.  Once they’d returned to Enchanted’s headquarters she’d been asked to record a few small promos for the stations that played her songs in heavy rotation.  Not willing to say no she’d been ushered to another recording booth with barely any time to take a breath.

Being left alone in the green room was a welcome break from what had become an increasingly busy day. Just as she was about to pull out her phone for the first time since after her first interview the door opened and Regina stormed in, angrily snapping at whoever the poor soul was that was still in the hallway.

“-not recording as scheduled and I want to know why a rider was requested when nothing that is on it is in this room.  There’s not even a bottle of water.  See that it gets taken care of.”

“Of course, Ms. Mills.”

The disembodied voice wavered slightly and Emma's earlier annoyance at Regina flared back up.

“The water that’s in here is fine,” she called out, leaning forward and catching the eye of the young woman in the hallway giving her an apologetic smile.  She turned pointedly to Regina and glared, “I don’t need anything else.”

“That’s not the point,” Regina sniffed, her dark eyes narrowing followed by the sound of retreating footsteps. “Certain expectations were to be met and they weren’t.  Just one more thing this company has failed at.  I have a mind to stop booking appearances here if they’ll just be treated like this.”

“Okay, this is about something more than water bottles and a missing box of Milk Duds.  What’s going on?” Emma asked suspiciously.

Regina pursed her lips as she took out her phone and began rapidly typing.  Emma waited patiently for her to answer, knowing better than to push if she wanted to keep her head on her shoulders.  With a final tap on her screen Regina focused back on her with a wary look that immediately had her on edge.

“You were supposed to do the on air interview with Graham Humbert but apparently due to an ‘unfortunate’-” Regina rolled her eyes, “scheduling conflict you have to do it with Walsh Hoakley instead.”

Emma groaned.  An interview with Graham would have been fun and easy.  They’d both gotten their start in the business around the same time, so he not only knew what types of questions she enjoyed answering but what her boundaries were when it came to her personal life.  Walsh, on the other hand, was the complete opposite.

Every interview she’d had with him had her sitting through bad jokes and his comparing her career against his own.  He had been the frontman of a pop punk group that had taken a break almost a decade before, though he insisted that it was only a matter of time before they would release another album.  It was bad enough she had to play nice as he gave her unsolicited advice but once the mics were turned off he tended to dial up his smarmy charm and invite her out for drinks or a meal.  She’d always firmly said no but he’d kept it up and after their last interview nearly two years earlier she’d told Regina that she preferred not to do any more with him.

“I thought he was with that big station in New York,” she said sullenly.

“Apparently not,” Regina sniffed.  Her eyes softened fractionally, “Do you want me to reschedule?”

“No,” she sighed, “We’re already here and I know we don’t have any time to come back while we’re still in LA.  Plus I don’t want rumors starting that I’m being difficult over Walsh Hoakley.  I don’t want to give him that honor.”

Regina smirked, “I’m sure he’d dine out on that for years.”

“He would.  So where’d you disappear to?” Emma asked, through talking about Walsh.

“I do have other clients that happen to conveniently live where their label’s offices and some of the best recording studios are,” Regina said drolly, perching herself delicately on a chair. “You might want to reexamine the benefits of moving out here after this tour is done.  You’re only going to get bigger from here on out.”

She hummed noncommittally.  For a few seconds she let herself daydream about moving into Killian’s beachfront house, waking up in his arms every morning before heading to the studio that would admittedly be leaps and bounds better than the one back in Maine.  She could almost see herself returning at the end of her day to find Killian preparing dinner in the kitchen or strumming his guitar on the balcony.  Before her thoughts went any further than that she stopped them in their tracks, forcing herself to remember all the reasons why she loved living in Storybrooke and to not let herself get wrapped up in a fantasy.  She didn’t let herself dwell on how her imaginings had given her the same feelings of home that her real memories of Storybrooke did.

Ten minutes and an increasingly impatient Regina later another assistant came to show them to the recording booth.  From behind the glass they watched as Walsh introduced the next group of songs that would be playing and teased her interview.  As soon as he switched off his mic she was ushered into the booth, shown which headphones and mic to use and then left alone with him.  To her great relief he smiled and shook her hand, seemingly not knowing that she had requested not to do interviews with him.  She smiled back, settling in the chair in front of the mic she’d been shown and adjusted everything to her liking.  As they waited for the queued songs to finish playing they made small talk about their day and the thankfully very few mutual acquaintances they had.

The interview started off well.  Walsh only mentioned his band Behind the Curtain twice and kept his advice to a minimum.  Emma found herself actually enjoying the questions he asked, responding with enthusiasm when he asked about living in Maine and her writing process.  She was so caught up in lightheartedly debating with him over notebooks versus a phone app to write lyrics that she was surprised when he mentioned that their time was drawing to a close.

“So, Emma, before you go, how has this tour been so far?  You’ve only got a few shows left right?”

“Yeah, just the last few cities heading north but it’s been really, really great,” she enthused, “This is the biggest tour I’ve ever done and the fans have been amazing in every city we’ve played.  I’m actually really looking forward to tomorrow night’s show since it’s where they have the Oscars.”

“Right, the Dolby theater, when we played it was still the Kodak and it’s a great venue.  Bigger than what you would think when you see it on tv,” Walsh said with a wink and a grin.

Emma fought against a cringe at his bad innuendo, glad that he hadn’t been like that through the whole interview.

“I haven’t had a chance to get in the space yet and, I know this is really nerdy or whatever, but I’m really excited to stand on the same stage that some of my favorite actors have been on.  I mean, some of my idols have played there and it’s always an honor to get to perform where they have too, but come on, tomorrow I could be standing in the exact spot where Meryl Streep or Tom Hanks or Oprah have stood.  Oprah!”

Walsh chuckled, “So you still get starstruck meeting other celebrities?”

“Oh, yeah,” she said with a nod. “I don’t even think of myself as a celebrity.  I live in the same town I mostly grew up in, all my friends are ones I’ve had since before I even thought about recording an album, I don’t even have ‘people’ or whatever.  I nearly had a heart attack seeing Lady Gaga from across the room at a benefit concert once.”

“So how was it when you met Killian Jones, famous guitarist for Realm of Jewels, before the start of your tour?”

She shot a glance to the window into the sound booth where Regina had been throughout the whole interview.  Regina barely looked up from her phone and nodded, twirling her hand in a gesture Emma took to mean keep going.  They had talked about what would happen when Killian was finally recognized but the longer they went without it happening the more she had convinced herself that they could get through the whole tour with no one the wiser.  It seemed their time was up.  Taking a deep breath to settle her racing heart she looked back at Walsh and found him watching her closely.

“I was surprised and a little annoyed actually,” she said with a small laugh. “Ruby, the guitarist I usually tour with, had broken her arm but said that she’d found her replacement for me.  The thing was she wouldn’t tell me who it was so I walked into the recording studio and Killian was there.  Realm of Jewels was one of my favorite bands, still is, so seeing him sitting there was a kinda surreal fangirl moment and intimidating too, knowing how good of a guitarist he is.”

“Rumors have been circulating on social media for a few weeks that it was Killian onstage for your tour and then earlier this afternoon uber-producer Robin Locksley seemed to confirm it-” Walsh pulled up a sheet of paper and began reading, “He said in an interview: ‘I’m very excited to begin working with Killian Jones on new music and other projects moving forward.  He’s been touring the past few weeks as a backing guitarist and he told me it’s been a great first step to getting back out there.  I was even fortunate enough to hear a few rough cuts of songs he’s already written for a new solo album and they’re amazing.  I really can’t wait.’  Since you’ve confirmed it yourself have you heard any of his new songs while on the road?  He’s already with your label and turns out he signed on with your manager Regina Mills back in March so will the rest of the tour be a double bill?  Maybe even a possibility of a duet in the future?”

Emma felt dazed, like she’d been hit with a pillow shot out of a cannon.  She had completely forgotten that Robin had become a music producer after Liam and Milah had died.  He’d even sent her an email after her last album had been released, saying he wanted to work with her at some point.  That little detail was nothing compared to the realization that Killian hadn’t mentioned that his lunch with Robin was really about business.  He hadn’t even hinted that he had whole songs written let alone recorded anything.  Worst of all was that he had signed on with Regina before he’d joined the tour and she knew without a doubt Regina would do anything necessary to further a client’s career.  Especially if the final outcome would prove advantageous for two clients at once.

“I, uh, haven’t listened to anything he’s recorded-”

Her phone buzzed at her elbow.  There were several notifications but the preview screen showed a text from Regina.  She opened it in a daze.

Regina: No double billing, play coy about duet, plug rest of tour, still seats in Vancouver

The fog she’d been in cleared away as white hot anger took its place.  She looked at Regina through the glass and found her making the same ‘continue on’ motion she had before.  There was no sign of an apology on her features, only impatience and  the ever present look of expectation that she perform well.  While acting wasn’t her forte she was more than ready to give the performance of a lifetime.

“Killian was only brought on temporarily until Ruby was well enough to play again.  Luckily her recovery happened to work out perfectly with us arriving in LA-” she knew she sounded too upbeat but pushed through, “I’m sorry to dash any hopes but Killian has decided to stay here and focus on his own music.  Ruby will be back for tomorrow night’s show and will be finishing out the tour.  We’re sold out for most of those shows but I think there’s still some tickets left for Vancouver, but not many.”

“So, no duet?” Walsh asked hopefully and Emma wasn’t sure if he meant musically or hinting at something between her and Killian.

“Nope,” she said decisively, her heart cracking as she did. “I’ll be taking some time off after this tour is done.  Rest and relaxation are the only duets I’ll be performing any time soon.”

Walsh laughed, “Now that’s a duo everyone loves.  Well, Emma, it’s been great talking to you.”

“You too,” she said with feigned pleasure.

“Here’s Emma’s latest single ‘Snowdrops and Buttercups’ which has been flying up the charts.  Safe to say you’ll be playing it tomorrow?”

“Yup.  It’s been fun to see the responses get more enthusiastic as it gets played on the radio more,” she said, finally feeling like she was being genuine.

“That’s always a great feeling,” Walsh said with a grin. “Alright, here it is ‘Snowdrops and Buttercups’. Thanks for stopping by, Emma.”

“Thanks for having me.”

As the first notes of her song filled the studio Emma ripped off the headphones, ignoring the constant buzz of her phone at her elbow.  She wasn’t sure who it was that was calling, she’d told everyone important to her about the interview and she knew they had probably all tuned in to listen.  With the way her pulse was pounding in her temples she wasn’t too sure she could keep herself from unfairly snapping at whoever it was and whatever questions they were going to have.

“Emma?”

She looked up at Walsh and by the way his grin faltered a bit she was sure that her anger was painted clear across her face.

“Yeah?”

“Er, I was wondering if you wanted to grab a drink?” He asked hesitantly. “Talk a little shop, maybe?”

“I already have plans,” she said shortly, the words tasting like the ashes of the evening she originally thought she’d be having.

“Coffee then? Or lunch?  I’m up for anything really,” He said with a wink and a chuckle.

“Look, I don’t know how much more clear I can make this but I’m not ‘up’ for doing anything with you,” she snapped, his annoying persistence the final straw. “I thought that you’d gotten better than the last time you tried this but apparently not.”

She snatched up her phone and turned to leave when she heard him scoff and mutter something under his breath.  She spun back to face him.

“Wanna share with the whole room?”

“Yeah, actually,” he said with a sneer that twisted his face into something vicious. “You act all high and mighty but you’re just a step away from falling into obscurity just like me.  That whole thing about Jones was given to me by your people and by tomorrow morning both your careers will be reaping the benefits from it.  I could have helped you along even further with the contacts I have in this business.”

Emma gaped at him, “By going out with you?  Classy, you sack of shit.”

Something flashed in Walsh’s eyes, “You-”

“Emma!  Let’s go, now.”

For half a second she was grateful that Regina had burst into the room, then she remembered why she was angry in the first place.  She brushed past her, ignoring her stream of hissing admonishments and the stuttered apologies of the producer.  Halfway back to the green room she realized her phone was still buzzing non-stop.  Her stomach lurched, not wanting to know if it was Killian calling when she was walking the thin line between yelling at him or breaking down in tears.  Steeling herself she finally looked at the screen and breathed a sigh of relief, swiping to answer.

“Ruby, pack your shit.  I need you in LA tonight.”

[snowbellewells]

CSSNS21: “The Belle Dame Emma” {Epilogue}

Here we are with my conclusion to this year’s @cssns21 story!  I appreciate your patience and how you have stuck with me and continued reading, even when I took longer to update and ending up adding a fourth part. Thank you so much for your likes and reblogs, and your treasured comments. They mean the world to me, and I loved being part of this event once more. I hope you will enjoy this epilogue (with a bit of - maybe M-rated? - smuff) ;)

**Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU once more to @caught-in-the-filter for the incredibly beautiful cover art she created for this story. And also my gratitude to @ultraluckycatnd for being my beta reader! **

Story can also be read from the beginning here on Tumblr or on AO3

Summary: Legend has it that the fae woman in the meadow will ensnare any who dare enter her domain, but the knight who chances a meeting can tell there is more to the story than superstition and gossip has allowed. The path to the truth and redemption may be fraught with dangers - to the both of them - but is it not the sworn duty of a true knight to help any who may be in need?

Epilogue

Six weeks later…

After much travel and searching, seeking the smallest clues or signs about where her parents and her rightful realm might be located, Princess Emma could hardly believe she stood before the entrance to the fae kingdom once more. Killian, her faithful knight, and, she now readily accepted gladly, her True Love, was by her side - just as he had been for every step of the journey. Turning her gaze to his with adoration and thanks, Emma took his hand as she blew out a tense breath. He had been invaluable all along their way - in tracking, in speaking to the locals, and in navigating obstacles; it would have taken her even longer to get home without him. In truth, she knew that she might never have tried if he had not entered her life and helped her regain her hope and her freedom. She wasn’t about to take this last step forward without him.

Besides, if she were honest with herself, though she had wished so desperately to find her people and be reunited with her parents, she was nervous here at the threshold; worried that they might find her too changed, that all might have moved on and she have been replaced, that it might be better if she remained lost, with no chance of bringing more trouble upon them. Though she tried to hide it, she knew her hands were shaking with her nerves, even as she willed herself to calm. 

As if he could read her thoughts, Killian turned to face her, bringing the hand held in his up to his mouth and pressing a kiss to its back. Pulling her close to his chest, he offered her a comforting moment’s embrace before holding her out far enough to search her face knowingly. “They will be overjoyed to see you, my Love. Surely you know that? Imagine how much they must have missed you all this time.”

His voice was low, the soothing timber of it settling her nerves and making her let out a small laugh on her exhale. Of course he was right! She knew her parents well enough to see the truth in his comfort. She needed only to take this final step and she would be welcomed back into their arms, back where she belonged.

“Thank you,” she whispered, blinking back the moisture that had begun to gather in the corners of her eyes. There had already been too many tears.

“For what, Princess?” he replied, cradling her cheek in his hand lovingly.

She smiled beautifically up at her champion, hoping he could see just how much she cherished him. “Merely for reminding me of what I should already know.”

Pulling him forward, she led him under the small arch of twisted leaves, morning glories, and grapevine loops, through what appeared to be just a break in a hedge at the edge of a wood. Yet, once through, the simple countryside behind them vanished, and they entered the enchanted world of her birthright at long last.

For his part, the knight did not know what he had expected, but the sight greeting him in this haven of the faeries was more than he could have possibly anticipated. They very air around them seemed more refreshing and sweeter, small sparks of light seemed to float throughout the space, radiating about the greenest grass and the most colorful and amazing profusion of flowers his eyes had ever seen. The trees that formed a natural border around the sort of amphitheater of space were so tall their tops seemed to disappear above him farther up than his eyes could see. Along the way back down, however, where longer branches jutted out, there were bridges from one tree to another, and charming little aerial houses, where many of the graceful and lightfooted kin of Emma’s must make their homes.

All of it seemed to have a heavenly glow, nearly stealing his breath and voice. He barely managed to utter, “Emma… it’s… it’s stunning.”

The long lost princess’ eyes were wide and glassy, emotion rising to the surface as she tried to take it all in. Giving a soft sniffle, she hoarsely replied, “it’s even more beautiful than I remembered.”

However, she didn’t hesitate much longer. Finally, the anxiety and uncertainty seemed to have loosened its hold, and Emma suddenly knew just where to go, and was impatient to get there. His hand had still been lightly clasped with hers, but she pressed it more firmly now, twining their fingers together and urging him forward with quickened steps.

They soon neared a rise of ground where the green grass was almost completely blanketed with the white flowers of snowdrops and its very crest was nearly hidden by the overhanging foliage of a willow tree. It was beautiful spot, though it seemed quiet and deserted. Emma, however, did not stop, and he followed her willingly, trusting her lead.

As they reached the top of the rise, Killian could see with a mere glance at the maiden he had come to love with all his heart, that she seemed illuminated - lit from within somehow by an undiluted happiness he had yet to see bathing her features. Squeezing his fingers in her own once more, she stepped forward and ducked beneath the canopy of the willow branches. Whatever was coming, Killian could only feel anxious to see if it gave Emma such joy, and he stepped into the secluded circle on her heels.

Tall and stately white birch trunks sat facing them side by side, but, rather than climbing up past the ceiling the willow provided and into the sky, they bent and doubled back, entwining with each other, over and again, swirling and looping and crisscrossing to form two raised seats interlocked together, a simple and gorgeous throne for two. Seated upon it were two beings so ethereally lovely, radiating such an aura of power and magnetism, that even if he weren’t aware of whom they must be, Killian would have known they were far more than human. 

A cry of delight and need broke from Emma’s throat and she lurched forward, after a few steps releasing his hand to run toward the King and Queen, her broken, beautiful voice calling, “Mama! Papa!”

Killian followed slowly, not wanting to leave her side, but equally desiring to give her space to at last be enfolded by her parents once more. The petite, ebony-haired Queen stood immediately, hurrying from her throne with tears streaming down her cheeks and delicate arms spread wide to receive her daughter as Emma reached her. He could see immediately that she had the same beguiling green eyes, pert, determined chin, and round, soft cheeks as his beloved princess. But then both were engulfed in the arms of the King, his large hand cradling the back of his daughter’s head protectively as if he never wished to let her go again. His strong, angular face shone with the trace of tears as well, as he kissed the crown of Emma’s head, and then his wife’s, enfolding them both in his embrace.

Killian looked on quietly, his heart filled warmly by the scene, thrilled for Emma that she was with her family after so long apart. Several minutes passed with only the sound of ragged breaths and the sniffles that accompanied tears of joy breaking the silence. It was such a tender, private scene, that the knight had begun to wonder if he should withdraw and give their privacy completely, when Emma pulled back the tiniest bit, still holding onto her parents, but turning to smile at him as well. Beckoning him forward, the hint of a peaceful smile tipped the corner of her mouth upward for a moment, then she dipped her head in a slight bow to her mother and father as she addressed them once more. “I’ve brought someone with me whom I wish you to meet. He helped me find a way free from the Dark One’s curse… Sir Killian Jones, knight at arms.”

Killian stepped forward, kneeling with hand to his chest and head bowed to the King and Queen of the Fae. Now it was his turn to swallow down his nerves and hope he would be found worthy. He would never ask Emma to be parted from her parents again, but if they chose to disapprove of his bond with Emma, he was a mere man while their daughter was a princess and one of the fairer folk, he did not know how he could bear to be parted from her.

Emma seemed to feel no such hesitation. Once welcomed back so heartily by mother and father, her fears and misgivings were put behind her. Taking Killian’s hand, she urged him to stand once more, this time close at her side. Meeting her mother’s gaze with shining eyes, she added confidently, “The curse’s power was finally broken by True Love’s kiss. This man chose to help when others feared me. He risked his life to see me regain my own. He has trekked with me, offering his sword and his strength as I made my way back to you.  He is the one I was meant to give my heart to, and I do not wish to be parted from him.”

Despite the soft kisses and touches and the loving vows they had exchanged since the day they had discovered their true feelings for one another, Killian still felt his jaw go slack at her pronouncement of such deep feelings for him. He felt the same for her, without question, but he would not have asked her to speak for him so boldly.

Rather than seeming at all troubled or offended by Emma’s assertions, her mother’s sweet, cherubic face shone even brighter with happiness, practically beaming at her only child as she clutched Emma’s other hand. Queen Snow cast a knowing sidelong look at her husband, the two exchanging silent conversation in a weighted glance. Then, she turned back to Emma, reaching out to cup her cheek against her palm as she spoke gently, each word heartfelt, “You’ve found your match, Emma. The two of you saved each other… as it should be. It’s all I ever wanted for you, my darling girl.”

She easily moved to embrace Killian as well, a maternal touch that washed comfort over him of a type only barely remembered as the sort he had received from his own mother long ago.

The King held out his hand in welcome when his wife pulled back, offering to shake with Killian, but then clapping him manfuly on the shoulder, his face creased into a jovial smile of gratitude. “Sir Knight,” he offered, holding Killian’s eye until his intent could be made clear. “Welcome. We could never thank you enough for bringing her back to us.”

~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~

That night, as darkness fell over the peaceful realm of the faeries, Killian found himself restless. Though his body was worn and tired, he had not yet found sleep. As they had searched for her homeland, covering miles by foot and horseback, each night he and Emma had curled together for warmth in the chill night air, only one bedroll in his pack and out in the open most of the time. He knew of course that she was a royal, and that their situation was different now. She would perhaps have different restrictions or expectations others might dictate for her behavior. Not only that, but this night she still had much to talk about with her parents. It had been so long and there was so much for them to tell each other. Still, he now found it hard to rest without her near, without being able to see with his own eyes that his princess was safe and well.

Throwing aside the covers in the bed he had been given, Killian slipped back into his rough doublet and pants and went outdoors to walk under the stars. He did not hold a lot of hope for it lulling him closer to slumber, but the stirring of fresh air against his skin brought a calm, slowing his breath as he walked, hoping to remain quiet enough not to disturb those who slept nearby.

After covering some distance, Killian discovered he had reached a rather secluded corner of the kingdom he had not yet been shown. Like all else he had seen since entering this realm, it was breathtakingly beautiful, full of a tranquility not to be found in the world he had left behind. The ground beneath his feet grew more uneven and rocky, and his heart thrilled at a sound he recognized - the rush of falling water somewhere just out of sight.

Continuing forward, Killian followed a bend in the path he walked and was suddenly at the edge of a large pool of water fed by a gentle waterfall on the opposite bank. The scene was made all the more mystical by the way the silvery moonlight fell upon the water, mist rising in a light haze that the stars caught, making the whole grotto before him look like some hidden oasis emerging from another world for his eyes alone.

He stood for a moment, transfixed and letting the sound of the falls ease his mind, savoring the small droplets that occasionally bathed his face, soothed at last into a gentle lulling of his spirit. And then, as though the vision before him could grow more lovely, the water just before the falls parted, and a graceful form surfaced effortlessly, as smooth as a seal and hardly disturbing the water around her. The being turned her face toward him, illuminated in the glow of the moon, and all the air fled Killian’s lungs as his eyes met Emma’s.

Bobbing gently in the slight waves of the pool, she wordlessly swam a few strokes closer to the shore where he stood. She never took her eyes off him, and Killian found he couldn’t look away either. At last he saw the siren she might have been, had she not possessed such a good heart and strong will. Taken aback, it seemed she was tempting him into the water with her; a seduction he stood no chance to resist.

Smoothing the water dripping from her hair off her face, Emma only stopped when she was close to his place on the bank, standing in water up to mid-calf and waiting for him with a gently mysterious, enticing smile. She was wearing a sort of gauzy, diaphanous gown, now soaked to the skin and revealing more of her skin than he had yet glimpsed. Killian offered little resistance as she stretched out her arms to him, beckoning him forward to join her. Soon he was stepping right into the water to meet her, barefoot and half-convinced he was dreaming as he came to stand before her. He had been following her since he first saw her, in her thrall - just not in the smothering way she had feared - it was his willing choice to go where she led. He realized now that he would follow her to the end of the world or time itself.

The glow of dim light on the water sent some crystalline points of brightness dancing as they moved hand in hand toward the falls on the far bank, without a word spoken between them. When they reached the place where even his feet no longer touched bottom, they were treading water weightless in the middle of the pool; the still night and the enchanted air all that surrounded them. Emma herself still seemed to glow as she turned to face him once more, so close Killian felt her expelled breath upon his face. She still wore the bemused smile, as if she were holding some delightful secret she had for him. He held his breath as she took his hand, waiting to see what his fae princess had in store.

No words were forthcoming; instead Emma paddled one hairsbreadth closer, her front nearly brushing his as she bobbed in the water before him, a treasure more precious than any he had ever thought to hold. Her teeth bit into her lower lip as her lashes lowered, all of a sudden somewhat shy. Looking up through them, she raised her fingers to trace across his brow, down his cheek and jaw, to the hair now plastered to his chest and beneath the loose collar of his clinging wet tunic. “Killian, please kiss me,” she finally whispered in a breathless, husky plea.

As if he could have held back a moment more. Killian shook away the dazed awe fogging his head and surged forward, his hand delving into her soaked hair to cradle the back of her head to pull her closer, even as he swooped in to capture her mouth with his own, plundering her lips with teeth and tongue and breathless abandon. For a time it seemed the world stopped turning, the clock stopped ticking, and both ceased to breathe, merely feel. Limbs tangled together until they struggled to stay afloat without breaking a hand free to awkwardly paddle and then plunging back into the kiss.

Before he knew it, Killian felt the soft impact as they bumped against a rocky outcrop of the far shore. They’d floated some distance without even realizing they had moved. The playful, and still hungry, glimmer in Emma’s eyes remained, even as she loosed a small chuckle at their heedless travel. “Come,” she gestured with a tilt of her head, and once again he followed her gladly.

They slipped beneath the downpour of the falls with it pelting on their heads for a few seconds, until they passed to the other side and were hidden behind the rushing water. Just the two of them ensconced in a small pocket between a rocky edge and the wall of water and sound - hidden away from the rest of the world.

This time Emma didn’t hesitate; having felt the electric fervor of their kiss, she lunged forward, pressing Killian against the slick rock wall with all the force her slight frame could muster and plunged back in, her warm, soft mouth on his and her hands winding into his disheveled hair.

Killian returned her passion intently, tasting the delicious curve of her shoulder revealed by the sagging material of her clothes, and letting his light nips and licks begin to trail lower on her chest when her lips released him to draw breath. They were nearing uncharted territory now, and he managed to break from the haze of desire engulfing him long enough to pull back and search her eyes, making certain of what she wanted. “Darling, are you sure?” he murmured, leaning his forehead against hers as they both panted desperately to put air back in their lungs. “There’s no need for us to hurry if…”

But Emma shook her head vehemently, cutting him off with such a stern, determined look that he knew it must be sincere. “Does this feel rushed to you?” she replied, to which he shook his head, knowing that it didn’t, not truly. “I thought so,” she smiled affectionately. “Now, trust me,” she soothed, molding her body to his beneath the surface, and making him very glad he could touch bottom again with the way she was pressing against him, leaving little mental ability or coordination left to him for focus on keeping afloat. “This is what I want. I love you… and I want to be as close as we can possibly get.”

Placing her hand atop his, Emma guided it further under the neck of her gown, until he was gently cupping her breast, his pulse pounding at the sensation as he squeezed experimentally, caressing the underside and making her shiver beneath his touch, a desperate sort of whimper in her throat.

He was lost then, and he knew it, rough-calloused fingers pulling down the fabric to bare her torso until she desperately pulled away enough to shimmy out of the garment quickly and send it slapping to the rocks behind them. Raising his arms, Killian allowed her to lift his shirt as well and pull it off over his head with just as much ravenous haste in her movements, then deftly toss it after her own clothing. He thought he might swallow his own tongue when she began to kiss along his clavicle, her smaller hands brushing through the dark hair that covered his chest. Killian couldn’t take his eyes from the stunning picture of her bare before him, but he was jolted with a current that made him go rigid when her devious little tongue poked out and circled his nipple, and it felt like his every nerve ending was vibrating with charged pulses even before she kissed down his sternum until she reached the water line, then let her fingers trail below, following the dark path of hair down his stomach to the waistband of his pants. Playfully running her fingers back and forth under the hem, she eyed her knight with a curious challenge, as if waiting to see what he would do next.

Suddenly ravenous, he easily flipped them, pressing her against the wall of their hidden grotto, though he used his arm to protect her from the rough surface. Raising her a bit higher, Killian ran his tongue along his lower lip hungrily; a predator considering how to devour her, and only lowered her again when she took the hint to wrap her legs around him, until he settled into the cradle of her thighs, inches from bliss, supporting her and steading them both against the rock behind them.

He circled her nipple with his thumb; it was already at attention from the chill and their activities, but she tossed her head from side to side against the stone behind her, urging him on. She had always seemed so stunningly more than human, too lovely and magical to be of this world at all, but at this moment - in the throes of her passion and at the mercy of his hands - she seemed as deliciously, fully real as he had ever seen her; as human as he was when they were joined like this. Though he wondered if Emma had ever engaged in this deepest of connections, and he himself had only barely experienced it in his youth, before a knight’s chivalric code, duty, honor, and danger had become his entire world, none of that seemed to hamper their movements together as one. The rhythm of their bodies as he pushed forward and she keened desperately, hands gripping his shoulders for all she was worth, was an age old dance which came to them intuitively with their love and desire.

Killian strove to take his time, to be gentle as he entered her, determined not to cause his princess unnecessary pain. She had stiffened for a moment, breath held silently as she tensed, but his fingers stroked her hair, caressed her face, and brushed over her lips as he whispered admiring, soft endearments and her tension eased. Then her lips parted to take his finger into her mouth, her tongue circling the digit before she applied a light suction as her eyes met his, and it was as if she were silently telling him she was ready while challenging him to continue. He could hold himself back no longer.

Bucking forward, the guttural moan that escaped him startled even Killian himself. The water helped him hold her, making them both nearly weightless and allowing his hands to skim over the back of her knees, her thighs, before clutching her shapely derriere and moving on up her sides beneath the surface. He marveled at exploring and lingering over all the places he had not yet seen in daylight. Her skin felt all the more silky and inviting, and as he began to rock within her more steadily, Emma showed only pleasure; chanting his name on short, breathy pants as she clung to him for dear life.

He knew he could not last much longer, not this first time with how she affected him and the intensity of their lovemaking. He could only pray he would see her satisfied as well. One more particularly deep thrust had him tingling all along his spine, knowing he was almost at his climax. The cords of muscle in his neck strained as Killian rocked against her once, twice, and a third time more as he stayed as deep and as close to Emma as possible. Her head tilted back as a cry of ecstasy was wrung from her, trembling around him irresistibly.

When her forehead fell to rest on his shoulder, Killian wrapped his arms around her even more tightly, chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. He had given her his all, and his limbs were now lax and weak, deliciously sated, replete. Until they could both recover a bit, he supported her while they bobbed in the gentle current. The easy motion of simply staying afloat was all the effort either could manage after such intense completion.

When they pulled apart at last, each one’s eyes searching the other’s face - he couldn’t help but think he had never seen her look more bewitching than she did at that moment. Naked in the light of the moon and stars as they swam langurously back out from under the falls and toward the bank, Emma glowed; her pale skin glistening as she passed through the water with sleek grace. She was unguarded and undone, and as she turned to cock her head at him, perhaps trying to devine his thoughts, she gleamed in unstudied, incandescent glory.

They climbed out of the water, skin pebbling and suddenly chilled in the cool night air. Quickly, he lead her this time, back to the bed and quiet quarters he had been given. Sheepishly, Killian wished he had a towel to dry her, or at least more clothing than a cape and metal armor to offer her while the garments they had worn were dried. Instead, they crawled beneath the covers on his sleeping mat, lying together skin to skin. It was more exquisite than he could have imagined, resting there with Emma, her back pressed to his front as he kissed her shoulder and ran his hand up and down her arm. She let out a soft, contented hum and snuggled even further into his embrace as he slipped one of his legs between hers, and she held it there with her own.

“Not so long ago,” she murmured, her breath rustling the small hairs on his arm, “I believed I would be lost forever. Happiness was an impossible dream. And now?... I want to stay like this - like we are this very moment - forever.”

Stretching his neck in order to press a kiss to her temple, Killian breathed her in and savored her words. They made his heart soar. He knew that at the first opportunity he would be speaking to her parents, seeking their blessing for a union with their daughter. He knew he would do anything to help Emma put the pain and trauma of her isolated exile behind her, and he would strive for the rest of his days to make her as happy as they both were at that moment. Speaking the words into her skin, he challenged, “Who says we can’t?  We can stay this way from now on.”

Emma knew it was true as she let herself rest entirely for the first time in so long, secure in his arms. An emotional smile quivered on her lips as she vowed, “Good. Then I believe we will.”

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