#i know you and smile if youve followed me for any significant amount of time

[botanicallyinclinednerd]

alright friends. i am drunk. do with this as you will. either ask questions or point and laugh or filter accordingly, meaning you see none of this. I hope all of you are well this monday evening

[eturni]

Day 31 - Auld Lang Syne

I did it! It’s Day 31 of @drawlight​  advent calender prompt list https://drawlight.tumblr.com/post/188869931294/aziraphale-crowley-for-half-an-hour-youve-been and we have Auld Lang Syne. It’s quarter past midnight and I was writing through into the New Year. May this be a sign of things to come.

Song is built into the human psyche. Voices are raised in song as celebration, praise and mourning alongside almost every emotion that touches a life. It was naturally linked to the first angelic choirs providing missives from On High but it seemed built into their hearts. They used their voices to reach each other the same way they reached out in times of disaster or reached out to the stars.

In the right situations and with the right intentions songs can be prayer. Where they hold hope. Where they ask for good to come or try to ease pain.

Auld Lang Syne is like that. A prayer for the future, for better.

It’s 2026 and Warlock has come back to the UK to study at Edinburgh University. Humanities, much to their father’s dismay and a certain demon’s chagrin. Aziraphale declares this the perfect excuse to go back and take part in the Hogmanay celebrations, not to mention refill his stores of the good whiskey and some select delicacies.

Warlock’s friends are entirely enchanted by the demon and angel that turn up for the celebrations. Warlock insists that they will be, under no circumstances, joining the three of them for the celebrations in spite of Aziraphale’s warm assurances that it would be no bother at all and Crowley’s evident glee at the amount of embarrassment that he causes just by being seen.

There are a significant number of “Oh, that explains.” and “They really weren’t kidding, huh?” among the general chatter that ensures Crowley knows there have been stories told about Nanny Ashtoreth and how Warlock was raised.

They’re rushed out of the flat share and towards Edinburgh centre in a flurry of stylish black and glitter that has Aziraphale looking at him with something fond in his eyes. “Alright, knock it off brother Francis.” Warlock glowers as best they can, falling back into the names they still used when they felt the two were treating them like they were still eleven.

“Of course, young Warlock,” Aziraphale grins, like the bastard he is “please lead on. I’ll trust your judgements as to the best spots for the festivities.”

There’s a sense of warmth and revelry thrumming through the city as they wander and Crowley soaks in the latent sins just waiting to be acted upon. Sometimes it’s difficult to be off the clock; especially when opportunities are so rife and spirits are so high.

Continue reading on AO3 https://archiveofourown.org/works/21638803/chapters/52644403 or:

“Gonna be weird not hearing Big Ben, angel.” Crowley points out instead, bringing Aziraphale’s hand up to brush a kiss against his knuckles. Even half a step in front of them Warlock catches the motion and rolls their eyes.

Aziraphale only chuckles and moves a little closer. “My dear, we’ve been without before when they were doing the maintenance. And for years before. We’ll manage I think.”

“Yeah. Suppose it’s better being with the little terror for the holidays as well. We’re very proud of you by the way, young Warlock.” Crowley grins over to the teen, voice slipping back and forth between his normal voice and nanny’s soft brogue.

“Yeah, don’t make a big deal out of it.” The teen shrugs. Aziraphale all but beams at the redness that tinges Warlock’s as they continue to lead them through the streets and point out places that they went with their new little university friends.

Crowley can see hints of fires in the distance down at Princess Street and hear the pounding strains of music in amongst all of the chatter and cheer.

Should auld acquaintance be forgot and never brought to mind?

He watches Warlock move ahead of them and thinks of Adam down south at Cambridge. The Antichrist and the child who might have been the Antichrist. Both of them living relatively settled lives, working on bettering themselves, and looking to a future that had seemed all but impossible when Crowley had begged Aziraphale to run to the stars with him.

There had been a time that Crowley was going to try and forget. They’d done enough damage to Warlock in the raising of the child and Adam had more than enough of the supernatural in that brush with the almost apocalypse and everything that had come with it. In the end it had been Aziraphale who’d encouraged him to try and make contact again; sensing how conflicted the demon was at having these two kids, who’d brushed with the forces of Hell, and just leaving them to it.

Now they’re practically true godfathers to two children, and that’s without counting The Them whose memories had been altered after the event but were often far too Knowing regardless and seem to have been left with some sort of imprint to their psyches.

Crowley frequently finds himself looking closely at them and hoping that they’re a sign of the kind of safe hands the world will be in within a couple more decades.

We’ll tak’ a cup o’ kindness yet.

Aziraphale and Crowley had spent millennia apart and centuries close and decades together. There had been constant matches about the inherent goodness of humans. There had been constant matches about how unfair it was to expect people to behave just as well no matter the disadvantage you set them up with at the beginning.

No matter what their positions had been at any given time there was almost always a drink to be shared between them.

No matter who was doing the wiling or the thwarting their story had wound together in equal parts ill and good deed and, no matter what, in attempted kindness both given and received.

Crowley had spent so much of his time on Earth committing to kindness to the ‘wrong’ people in the name of subverting the will of Heaven. Lifting the poor, encouraging the downtrodden to revolution. Aziraphale looked back at it sometimes and wondered how he could have followed Heaven’s party line like a shield for so long from the only other person who truly understood the true potential in humans, and the true worth of them.

Aziraphale had spent so much of his time on Earth coming to truly understand the humans. Finding what they needed, understanding what was truly good beyond the rules that they set themselves. He had done without waiting for permission. Better to beg forgiveness than ask permission. Often enough Crowley looked at this terribly brave, terribly hedonistic angel and wondered how he came to be so lucky. If it, too, wasn’t some part of the Ineffable plan that the angel liked to harp on about.

Both had found ways to be kind in a very human sense that fit neither of their roles.

surely ye'll be your pint-stoup and surely I'll be mine.

Crowley grins at the joy on Warlock’s face as they slip into their favourite local and buy a few pints to sup while they watch the world pass by the front window and let the pounding of the music thunder in echo-chamber chests.

“Mom would go absolutely mad if she knew I was drinking.” They chuckle after their first sip.

“Well, over here you’re legal. That’s all that matters to us, right angel?”

Aziraphale tilts his head a little. “Well, that and that you’re sensible when you drink. Have to remember that you don’t need to try to keep up with us.”

Crowley bit his lip at that, seeing the flash of challenge in Warlock’s eye. “He’s not kidding, you know. Aziraphale’s lost a liver before, its really not worth it when you can just enjoy it.”

Warlock takes another gulp before their glass clatters to the table. “Alright, that I have to hear.”

Crowley and Aziraphale look between each other; the angel in warning and the demon in pure glee. The firelight outside catches flame-red hair and shows a hint of truly happy eyes behind glasses. Aziraphale sighs deeply and sits back in his chair. “Alright, so, we were over in the Americas in the middle of the prohibition-”

“Oh, come on! Yeah you’re ancient but you’re not that old.” Warlock rolls their eyes in annoyance.

Crowley snorts a laugh that almost sends ale out of his nose when Aziraphale makes a sort of chalk-board squeak in the back of his throat. “Be that as it may, let me tell my story. You can decide on the truth of the particulars as you wish. Now, it’s at this time I was spending some time with my friend Ms Parker having some discussions about her husband’s behaviours and I’m afraid we got rather deep into some of the more contraband drinks.”

Crowley leans back in his seat; tuning out the chatter and the music and everything else as he watches his partner regale Warlock with old stories. He thinks of how much it’s possible to love one single ethereal being and how little of it should be his. But it is, and it will be for millennia to come. It’s still overwhelming years later and Crowley doesn’t think he’ll ever stop being in awe of it all.

We twa hae run about the braes and pou'd the gowans fine. But we've wander'd mony a weary fit sin' auld lang syne.

After a few more drinks the three of them pass back out into the street and follow streets until they find a familiar path that has Aziraphale gently clutching at Crowley’s arm with a smile. “Oh, I remember this place, my dear. There was a wonderful tailor who lived here back in the fifteenth century.”

Crowley stops in his wandering and motions for Warlock to do the same, happy to indulge Aziraphale for now.

“Yeah, makes sense angel. You always did go for the broken down districts.” He teases softly. It’s what makes Aziraphale the angel that most western humans based their stories on. A guardian angel who turned up in the harder areas and made what difference he could just by being there.

“Telling more tales?” Warlock asks archly with a roll of his eyes. Crowley knows he’s trying to goad another story out of Aziraphale. The kid doesn’t believe the stories, but they’re fascinating nonetheless. And it’s still slightly less bullshit than what they hear from their father.

“Maybe we are. You know, the castle being up on the hill like that? Great for defence but not so great for hunting. All the royals used to love that shit-” “Crowley, language!”

“-that bollocks, so they’d have a whole chunk of land set aside for them to hunt on that the commoners weren’t allowed onto. Now, if you’re an actual demon, and like causing fuss, and the laws of man certainly don’t apply to you, you might find yourself stopping to unleash non-native species onto hunting grounds. You might find yourself in a spot of trouble with the local regent. You might even find yourself helped out of it by someone who’s supposed to be your enemy, and who you thought was hundreds of miles away in Asia looking for early written texts.”

Aziraphale tuts at this. “Too many suppositions, Crowley. You’re telling it wrong. Let me, now-”

Crowley grins and falls into relative silence as Aziraphale tells one of the tales of how he had come to Crowley’s aid a few centuries ago.

We twa hae paidl’d in the burn, but seas between us braid hae roar’d

The two of them often had whole oceans separating them across the years. There have been times that midwinters were spent in lonely huts or new year celebrations with mortals whose faces they would not be able to remember in a few decades’ time.

There were years that they were close and yet never close enough. There were years it was a matter of rivers or streams between them.

There were years that it was their own fears alone that separated.

Invariably everything human that either of them did was made all the more special if they could share it together and that had made the last few years something that neither would give away for all the safety in the world.

Seas could roar and oceans could draw chasms between them and yet Aziraphale and Crowley had always been drawn back together, closer and faster each time. It had been pleasant to find that their natural collision actually just led them to settle into the other’s arms. Close enough that nothing but the occasional bickering argument would pass between them again.

And there's a hand, my trusty fiere, and gie's a hand o' thine, And we'll tak' a right gude-willie waught for auld lang syne!

The three of them are caught up at the stroke of midnight. The canon being fired at the castle echoes through the streets to cheers and laughter. Aziraphale leans in to kiss Crowley and Warlock politely does Not tell them to get a room.

Before long they’re in the midst of a small group forming a circle and taking up the strains of Auld Lang Syne. Warlock pulls a face as they get past the first couple of verses, entirely lost. Crowley leans in with a smile and leads his old charge through with the smallest of demonic miracles.

At the last verse they cross arms and link hands and Aziraphale can see the pure mischief in Crowley’s face. “Get ready to move, dear boy. We’ll all be heading for the centre.” He warns in Warlock’s ear, knowing that Crowley has no intention of telling the poor thing.

Even Warlock manages a startled laugh as they rush the centre at the end of the song, twisting around each other until they rush away again, facing outwards and into the new year.

Crowley’s face almost hurts from the smiling as he looks to Aziraphale and Warlock; the colours of the fireworks lighting bright faces in the cold night air.

They’ve gained a lot surviving the Apocalypse together and he feels like there’s only going to be more to be thankful for in the future with his heart full to bursting and an angel at his side.

“Happy New Year.” He grins, and it’s almost shy as Aziraphale turns to him practically glowing from within and wishes him the same.

“And so many more.”

[winterbaby89]

As Destiny Has Its Eyes On You Chapter 8/?

All the thanks to @artistic-writer for making this lovely pic.

Summary:

Princess Emma Swan of Misthaven has been prophesied as the Savior since before her birth. Now with the help of a Lieutenant from her past she is going to take her destiny into her own hands, to defeat the Evil Queen.

A/N:

This story is inspired by ’Destiny has its eyes on you’ by the lovely @seriouslyhooked (EmilyBea on FF). With the overwhelming support and love from EmilyBea and @ilovemesomekillianjones (who has graciously agreed to be my beta on this entire project, she can also be found on: AO3, and FF), I am presenting this to the public.

This story is rated ‘M’. I hope you enjoy, and if you haven’t read the works from these lovely ladies, I highly recommend you do so. Chapters 1-4 are based on chapters 1&2 of ‘Destiny Has Its Eyes on You’

AO3  FF.net  Prologue/Chapter 1  Chapter 2  Chapter 3  Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7

Chapter 8

About a week after the attack Emma is lounging on one of the barrels near the helm.

“Killian?”

“Yes my love?”

“What is the date?”

“What?”

“What’s the date? I know it’s November, but I’m not sure the day.”

“I do believe it’s the thirteenth, why?”

Emma’s eyes widen, without a word she gets up and heads to the stairs leading to their cabin.

“Emma, is everything okay?” When she continues below deck without answering, Killian has Smee take over and follows her to their quarters. Walking into the cabin he sees she’s pacing and chewing on her bottom lip. “Love, is there significance to the thirteenth?”

She startles at his question. “What? No! Why?”

“When I told you the date you got quiet and pale, then proceeded to run to our cabin where you are currently pacing. What’s wrong? You know you can talk to me.”

“It’s not the thirteenth that’s significant, other than being this far. You’re sure it’s the thirteenth, not say the fifth by chance?”

“Yes love, I double checked my chart, why? What is so wrong with it being the thirteenth? What’s so important about the fifth?”

She takes a couple shuddering breaths before sitting down on the bed. “Killian, you love me right? No matter what?”

Now he’s even more concerned for Emma, still not quite grasping what’s going on. He sits next to her, and taking her hands in his, he looks straight into those beautiful, but worried emerald eyes of hers before he speaks. “No matter what, good or bad, always and forever, I love you, Emma. Now what is going on? I’m worried about you.”

“The date of import is the sixth, it’s the day I always start my… you know... my monthly.”

He notices that Emma is blushing furiously as she speaks. Oh! Killian is stunned by this revelation, and Emma continues on before he has a chance to respond.

“Which I’m sure, due to our more enjoyable daily activities, you’ve noticed I haven’t had my monthly since being with you.” She lets that hang in the air between them for just a moment before continuing. “Killian, I think I know what’s wrong with me. The fact that I’m no longer intact makes it possible. It’s a full week after the sixth, I’m still getting sick almost a week after the attack, no one else is sick but me.” She finally looks him in the eye, still holding his hands. “I’m fairly certain…” Emma pauses a moment to gather her courage before finally revealing her life altering realization. “I’m certain I’m with child.” The tears that have been pooling in her eyes spill over, afraid of his reaction, terrified he’s going to push her away, even though rationally she knows he loves her, and would never do that to her. Damn hormones.

“Emma, you’re certain?” She’s too choked up to answer so she just nods. “Don’t cry, my love. I know this wasn’t something we had planned for, or even thought to take steps against for that matter. Nor is it something we had thought to talk about yet, but I think we’ll make damn fine parents.” He smiles brightly before wrapping her in a hug, kissing her senseless. When they break apart for air, he looks her straight in the eye. “Marry me? I’ve wanted you to be mine since the day we met. I would follow you to the end of the world, or time, and I will do everything in my power to make you happy. My life without you was hollow and dark, and now that you’ve come back into my life it feels like I’m seeing the sun for the first time in years. I will love you and our child with every fiber of my being.” He pauses for a moment so he can get down on one knee, then taking her hands in his he asks her again, “So, what do you say love? Will you marry me?”

Emma is stunned into silence, this is not the reaction she was expecting from him, though she really should have. When she notices the tips of his ears are pink from embarrassment and his smile starts to fade, she’s able to find her voice again. Emma gets down on her knees with Killian, and gathers him up in the strongest hug she can muster. “I would love to be your wife, Killian! I’ve dreamt of it for years, but the crew thinks we’re already married.”

“We can do a small ceremony for now, just you and me, under the stars, and do a larger, grander affair later if you want one. Maybe with your family there…” Killian helps Emma stand back up while they’re still entangled in their embrace, and he perches them back on the edge of their bed.

Her smile falters a little at the thought of her family, but she responds nonetheless, “That sounds perfect. When?”

“Tonight, if you’re feeling well enough for it.”

“Tonight then.”

With a quick kiss he gets up and walks over to his hidden floor safe, opening it up, he pulls out the simple jewelry box he keeps in there. He is looking for something that he has held on to, hoping for just such an occasion. His mother’s ring. It’s a beautiful silver band woven to resemble interlocked vines with a gorgeous two carat stone the same shade of blue as his eyes, the eyes his mother passed on to him and Liam. Sitting next to his mother’s ring is Liam’s ring, the last piece he has of his brother. He has never been able to bring himself to wear it, now it seems meant for this moment. It’s a large silver ring with a rather large emerald set flush in the band, the stone matching Emma’s eyes perfectly. How fitting. The stone in my ring will remind me of Emma’s eyes every time I look at it, and the stone in Emma’s will remind her of my eyes. … Hopefully. Killian takes out the two rings, then places the jewelry box back in the safe and closes it back up before walking over to Emma, who’s still sitting on the bed.

“So what do you think my love? Will they work?” He hands her the two rings to look at.

“They’re perfect. I can tell they’re well loved, who did they belong to?”

“Yours was my mother’s ring, passed to Liam when she died, then to me when he died. Mine… used to be Liam’s, I got it when he died.”

“Oh Killian, I’m sorry. If it’s too painful you don’t have to wear it.”

“I actually think he would like me wearing it like this, I know he would approve. He always liked you.”

“So, we’re really going to do this?”

“Only if you want to Emma, I’ve said before, I want you to be happy, and I will do anything in my power to ensure it. Do not mistake my words though, it would make me the happiest man alive to call myself your husband, and you my wife. But I’ve no wish to hurt you, or sully your reputation-”

Emma quickly cuts him off. “NO! I do want this; I think I always have. Granted this isn’t how I imagined it coming about, but it doesn’t change how I feel about you, or the fact that I want to be your wife. I want to be able to claim you as mine, and mine alone, as much as I am already yours and only ever was yours.”

◊◊◊

Much Later That Night

Killian and Smee are the only people on deck, having dismissed the night crew from their watch a few hours early, which Smee will finish for them after the ceremony is completed. Smee is to act as their witness and officiant even though technically the Captain is the one with the power to perform marriages. Killian’s nerves and excitement are rearing their head in the form of him pacing.

“Sir if I may. If you keep pacing you’re liable to walk through the deck.” Killian just gives him an unamused look. “I must admit sir, I never thought this day would come. I am glad though. She makes you happy. We are all happy for you, both of you.”

“Thank you Mr. Smee. All it took was finding the right woman, and she is the right woman. There is no one her equal, she exceeds every standard. She is the standard. Now we just have to hope the in-laws take the news well. But you and the crew should not expect any change in your Captain, just because I have found my Emma again.”

“Never sir, we would never try to take advantage like that.”

“I know you wouldn’t Smee, but Murdoch and Walsh definitely did…”

“Have you decided what to do about them yet?”

“I… no punishment I come up with feels like it fits their crime.”

“I’m sure you will come up with something sir, and they will be more than deserving of it. Is the Princess feeling better after that traumatic situation?”

“She seems to have put it past her completely.”

“I am very glad to hear it, sir.”

◊◊◊

Emma is putting on one of the two dresses she thought to bring, it’s her first time wearing a dress since her birthday. She’s thankful she thought to grab this dress and bring it with her, it’s perfect for tonight, she thinks. It’s a beautiful silvery grey, silk off-the-shoulder dress, form fitting, hugging her curves in all the right places, hinting at just the right amount of cleavage, while still being comfortable. Killian won’t know what hit him. Emma smiles thinking about Killian, and what tonight means for both of them. The three of us, she thinks happily. Wondering how long it will be before she starts showing, she rests both hands on her still flat belly, and takes a deep breath, “Well, I guess it’s time.”

She smiles as she exits the cabin to head for the stairs and her future. Both men turn hearing her approach, they’re stunned when they catch sight of her as she ascends the stairs up onto the deck. Killian strides over to escort her across the last expanse behind the helm where they’ll become husband and wife.

“You look radiant my love.”

Emma blushes as Killian presses a gentle kiss to her palm. “Thank you, you don’t look so bad yourself.”

“Captain. Princess. Shall we?”

Killian quickly looks at Emma before answering. “Yes Mr. Smee, please.”

Smee just nods his head, beaming at his Captain and his beloved. “We are here on this beautiful, starry, early morning, aboard this magnificent ship to join these two souls as husband and wife, until the end of time. Captain, you may proceed with your declarations.”

“Emma, my love my words are failing me now that we are finally here. Darling, I’m beyond grateful. I’m honored that you love me and have chosen that from this day forward we will walk through life as partners. As husband and wife. I promise to do everything in my power to make sure you know that you are loved and cherished. I will move heaven above and earth below to ensure that you are happy and never want for anything. I love you. And from this day forward know that I am yours body, heart, and soul.” Once he finishes speaking he reaches up with his thumb to brush away the tears rolling down her cheeks.

Smee clears his throat, sounding a little choked up with emotion. “Beautiful, Captain… now Princess, if you will.”

“Killian. My Killian, you were my first love, my only love, my true love. You had my heart from the moment we met, never once did I lose hope we would make it here. No one ever realized I was a girl who just wanted to be loved for being me, not for being the princess, but you did. I will never know how you saw the girl behind the princess, but you did, and I am grateful. Now that I have you back, I can’t imagine a life without you in it, and I’m glad that now I won’t ever have to. I love you. I will do my best to make you happy and ensure you feel my love, from this day forward I am yours body, heart, and soul.”

“Very touching, milady… now the rings. Captain, repeat after me please. With this ring, I, Killian Jones, pledge myself to you, body and soul, from now until the end of time.”  

As he slides his mother’s ring on Emma’s finger Killian repeats the sacred words. “With this ring, I, Killian Jones, pledge myself to you, body and soul, from now until the end of time.”

“Princess, please repeat after me. With this ring, I, Emma Swan, pledge myself to you, body and soul, from now until the end of time.”

She slides Liam’s ring onto Killian’s finger, trying not to cry. “With this ring, I, Emma Swan, pledge myself to you, body and soul, from now until the end of time.”

“With the exchange of rings and declarations of love, with the power provided to me by the Captain, I pronounce you husband and wife. Congratulations, Captain and Mistress Jones. You may kiss your bride, sir.”

Emma gives a watery chuckle as Killian sweeps her off her feet into an earth-shattering kiss filled with every ounce of their love. After a few moments Killian reluctantly breaks the kiss with his wife. Emma’s my wife, Gods above I love this woman, Killian thinks in awed disbelief.

“Thank you Mr. Smee, I think we shall retire for the morning. Be sure to get some rest when the morning watch comes to relieve you. Are we still on schedule to make Oldstown tomorrow afternoon?”

“It was entirely my pleasure, I am truly happy for the both of you. And, yes Captain, we are still on schedule. Should I expect to be in charge of the ship up until we dock, sir?”

“You know Smee, I would say that is a very good idea. But if there is something that needs my attention, know that you can come get me.”

“I will, sir. Again, many congratulations Captain, Mistress Jones. Enjoy your day and a half until we make port.”

“Thank you Mr. Smee, the Captain and I both appreciate your help in taking this special step that we’ve both been waiting for. And I appreciate everything you do for the ship, the crew, and my husband. I hope you have a pleasant rest of the morning.” She walks up hugging him, surprising him, before returning to Killian’s side.

“Good day Mr. Smee.”

“Good day Captain. Mistress.”

“Shall we? Mistress Jones.”

Emma’s heart stutters with happiness. Mistress Jones… we’re married. Finally, he is mine as much as I am his. And to think a month ago I was worried he wouldn’t remember me.

“We shall, Captain Jones.”

Gods above how did I get so lucky? Is this another dream? I will never take Emma’s love for granted… she and our children will never doubt my devotion.

Arriving at the doors to the Captain’s cabin, Killian lifts Emma to carry her across the threshold of their cabin, kissing her thoroughly in the process.

“Killian, you don’t have to carry me, I’m not far enough along that I can’t walk.”

“Love, it is tradition that the husband carry his wife across the threshold of their marriage suite. You don’t want to invite bad luck now do you?”

She playfully swats him in the chest, shaking her head. “No. I guess we wouldn’t want that. Now are you ever going to put me down?”

“Never, love. Never. Now that I have you, I never intend to let you go. And as soon as we get to Oldstown we will seek out the doctor to make sure you are okay.” She starts to interrupt him, but he just raises a hand to stop her, allowing her legs to settle on the floor while keeping his other arm wrapped around her back. “No. You will not fight me on this love, we will have you looked at by the doctor to make sure there are no surprises. After we leave Oldstown it’s still another week, good wind and weather permitting, before we make it to Arendelle. I will not take any chances with your health and life, nor the health and life of our child.” His tone brooks no arguments.

“Killian. Even though we are now married, and even with me being in my condition, neither one negates the fact that I still have to face the Evil Queen.”

“That may be Emma, but we will not take any unnecessary chances and risk you or the baby. I will not try to keep you from your destiny of taking on the Evil Queen, but we will do this the smart way, which does not include charging off half-cocked.”

“Aye-Aye, Captain,” she says. Emma knows he is just concerned for her, but if he insists on orders then she will answer accordingly.

“Now, now, darling, I am not trying to upset you, nor do I wish to control you. Perhaps I need to work on the words I choose?”

“Perhaps,” is her only reply.

“When we arrive in Oldstown I would like to seek out the doctor so he can make sure you and the baby are well. We still have a ways to go before Arendelle, and I think it is better to have you both checked now. Would you agree?”

“That’s better, pirate.” She smiles at him to let him know she does appreciate the sentiment.

“Aye, I thought so,” he replies cheekily, “now let’s get you off to bed, it has been far too long since I have ravished you.” A shiver of anticipation runs up her spine at his words. “I like the dress darling, it’s very becoming on you.”

“I thought you might like it.”

“I think I might like it better on the floor.”

Killian made good on his promise of ravishing her, well past dawn, and every moment they weren’t sleeping until Oldstown came into sight.

◊◊◊

A/N : If anyone is curious, Oldstown is the Southernmost town within the borders of Arendelle. Also, fun fact, I've had this chapter written and queued up since February, and I think the similarities between mine and the shows proposal is adorably funny.

All the thanks to @hollyethecurious for making this lovely aesthetic/collage.

Chapter Nine

Tagging some lovelies to enjoy: @ilovemesomekillianjones, @seriouslyhooked, @jennjenn615, @flslp87, @laschatzi, @ultraluckycatnd, @kmomof4, @xhookswenchx