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exhaustedpirate · 6 months ago

Text

call disconnected

my first entry for CS Autumn/Spooky Bingo created by the lovely @hollyethecurious - the prompt was "ghost stories", i got a little carried away and made it into a bit of a crime solving thing! all my love and devotion goes to @belovedcreation for betaing!

rated T | 7849 words

also on AO3

summary: Sheriff Emma Swan gets a call about an accident in the woods, a man begging her for help. An hour later, Killian Jones is on his way to the hospital. Funny thing is, the call for help doesn't match the voice of the victim.

The call arrives just after 2 o’clock, which is lucky because there would be a whole other emergency if someone stopped Emma Swan from getting her grilled cheese.

Ruby is supposed to be on phone duty but there is an anniversary dinner to plan and she doesn’t want to be responsible for Mulan having an underwhelming night due to her wife’s rushed planning. So Emma is covering the phones when it rings.

“Sheriff Swan speaking.”

Static greets her on the other side of the line, tensing her body unconsciously before a voice rings out. “Help, I-I fell-” It’s a strange panicked voice she’s never heard before, an accent not common to their small town of Storybrooke, Maine. She feels a tingle in her spine all the way to her hands. “The cliff gave out. Can you hear me?”

“Uh, yes, yes, I can hear you, sir,” Emma takes a deep steadying breath. “Can you tell me where you fell?”

“I w-was on the Misthaven Trail, I-I think I broke my leg,” His guttural grunt of pain weighs on her chest and she feels like she’s having difficulty breathing. “I can see the bone, I-”

Static plays up again and she feels his panic in her veins. “I can barely hear you, sir,” Her knuckles are white as she tightens her hold on the phone, pressing it harder against her ear as if it will make it easier to hear. “Can you tell me precisely where on the trail?”

“The river, Shepherd River,” His breathing becomes panicked and she knows she should keep him calm, urging him to take shorter breaths but she’d feel like a hypocrite. “I’m bleeding, please, help me, plea-”

The call cuts off and she is left with the sounds of her fast breathing. “Sir? Sir?”

Emma tries to redial, grateful for the old technology to allow her to do so. An automated voice informs her the number is not in service and she frowns in confusion.

Maybe it was a prank.

Maybe some of the local teenagers were trying to send her on a wild goose chase so they can vandalise another section of their lovely neighbourhood.

But the panic was real. The fear in that voice was real. The hairs on her arms are still raised as she remembers the voice, as she remembers all the alarms her body gave her.

Graham pokes his head into her office a second after. “Emma?” Her hand hurts from where she’s still holding onto the phone as if her life depends on it. “Are you alright?”

Maybe it is a prank.

The tight feeling on her chest tells her to go check it out nonetheless.

She drops the phone, with maybe too much strength, before she faces her deputy. “Are you up for a hike?”

---

It really is lucky that Graham practically lives in the woods. Emma was made for concrete roads and windows to keep the insects away. She wouldn’t last an hour alone in these woods.

The Toll Bridge crosses through the edge of the forest. The Misthaven Trail parallels the Shepherd River that flows under the bridge. It’s common to see vehicles on the side of the road - hikers leaving the last piece of civilization before venturing into the forest.

Emma parks the cruiser alongside a Chevrolet Chevelle and she’s almost sad to see it left to the whims of nature. But it probably belongs to their injured hiker. She places her hand on the hood of the car. She can still feel some warmth.

“This must be his.” She points the car out to Graham. “It’s probably been like an hour since he left. Call the hospital, ask them to get an ambulance here.”

Graham nods and grabs his phone. She lets his voice become background noise as she inspects the car. The door is unlocked, the hiker probably wasn’t expecting to be long. There’s a satchel in the back seat. She opens the door and looks inside. There’s an ID in the wallet and a buzzing in her ears when she looks at the picture on it. Killian Jones.

“They’re on their way,” Graham breaks through her inspection and everything becomes clearer. “I told them to keep their radio on.”

She nods. “We’re looking for Killian Jones,” Emma turns the ID towards him before tossing it inside the car. “Assuming he’s our hiker.”

Graham has his tracking face on as she closes the door. There’s something on the driver side floor that causes that tugging in her gut that guides her to flare up.

“It’s a good thing it hasn’t rained,” Graham points out from the other side of the car. “There are some recent footprints leading west. They’re probably his.”

“The Misthaven Trail,” Emma nods, any investigating paused in lieu of finding the injured hiker. “Let’s go.”

“Stay behind me.”

“Go get him, Fido.” Emma presses her lips together attempting to hide the smile at her terrible joke, but fails at the sight of his unimpressed look.

They follow the trail in familiar silence. Graham’s experience allows them to travel at a fast speed through the trees. They pay close attention to any sounds out of the ordinary - which is to say, anything that isn’t birds, animals or the rushing river below them.

“Emma.”

Graham stops and she manages to stop before she runs into him. He gestures to the ground where a blanket is crumpled underneath a tree, still warm.

“Still warm,” Emma confirms before dropping the blanket. “He must be close. Maybe he fell.”

“After all the warnings the Mayor released, there’s still people who forget to respect the forest.”

“I thought those had only been around for the past year,” Emma frowns, looking around. “I mean, you both gave me an hour-long lecture about it when I started.”

“Everyone in town knows to be cautious of these woods but there was a, uhm,” And it is the first time she’s ever seen Graham sound uncertain, his voice trembling with emotion. He clears his throat before he continues. “There was a death in these woods.”

She sees the way he looks guarded now, in pain. “Oh.”

A flash catches the corner of her eye. With a hand to cover her eyes from the sun, she turns towards it. The sunlight has caught on a metal flask within throwing distance from the blanket, she assumes. Close to it is a pile of rocks. A strange pile, each rock deliberately placed on top of the other. It must have been a while since it’s been built there according to the moss growing on them.

Emma turns towards her deputy to point that to him but sees him a few steps away looking at the ground. “Drag marks,” he points out as if he could feel her eyes on him. “He must have fallen down-”

“Help!” A weak yell cuts him off and they whip their heads to the right.

“And ended up down by the river,” Emma finishes for him in a quiet voice, her heart beating faster at the sound of pain, as she stands next to the deputy.

Using caution, Emma follows Graham’s lead as he gets them to the river bank following the sounds of pain. Halfway down, they locate the hiker and for the first time, Graham’s confidence falters and so do his steps. A man is slumped on the side of the river, covered in dirt and blood. She can see tendrils of red flowing down the river.

“Don’t move,” Graham orders, recovering quickly, as he stands next to the victim who seems to slump at their arrival, the fight leaving his body in his relief. “We’re here to help.”

Emma kneels on one side of him and is instantly on alert at the sight of the gash in his head and the bone protruding from his leg. She looks up at Graham and he seems to read her thoughts.

“I’ll guide the paramedics here,” Graham says, grabbing the radio from his belt. “Keep him still and awake.”

She nods before he returns to the trail to guide the others to where they are. Emma places her hand on the man’s shoulder, careful to avoid hurting him further. His big blue eyes turn to her, pain and fear side by side with hope and creating a tug in her gut.

She clears her throat. “Are you Killian Jones?”

“Aye, I fell, broke my leg,” he explains in a hoarse voice. She frowns at the sound, a whole other type of tingle running up her spine. “The ground caved under me.”

There’s static in her radio before Graham’s voice rings out. “ETA is three minutes, is he conscious?”

“Yeah, conscious and lucid,” Emma answers through the radio. “Broken leg and head injury.”

“I thought I was going to die here,” Killian groans as she puts away the device. “How did you find me?”

“The Misthaven Trail is long and you weren’t exactly specific.” Emma breathes out a chuckle, her nerves slightly calmed at knowing help is coming. “But we found where you fell down. We would have been here faster but service in this area is crap. I don’t know how you called us in the first place.” She’s babbling. She does that when she’s nervous.

Killian’s eyebrows furrow together, confusion taking over the pain. “I called you?”

“Hmm, yeah, that’s how we knew to come find you.” She answers as if it’s obvious, even as a pull in her gut tries to tell her otherwise.

“I left my phone in the car,” he explains and she feels that tingle up her spine once more. “I didn’t call anyone.”

Careful footsteps and cautious voices approach them and she lets the paramedics do their job as they put Killian Jones in the stretcher and cover his wounds. Their eyes remain locked until the last possible moment before Emma follows behind the stretcher being led by Graham.

A light flashes in her eyes once more and she looks up at it, the pile of rocks still standing proudly in the forest, a bird perched on the top stone, its deep blue wings fluttering. The hairs at the back of her neck stand in attention and she tries to make sense of what happened.

They found the hiker exactly where he told her he’d be. His leg was broken, just like the call said - she wouldn’t soon forget the sight of the bone piercing his flesh. The voice was different, Emma noticed it right away, but there were no signs of other hikers in the area.

But if the call wasn’t made by Killian Jones, then who called them for help?

---

Loud laughter rings out from the open kitchen window. An unconscious smile stretches Emma’s lips as she looks out at the dark heads illuminated by the fire pit she borrowed from Graham. Despite being disappointed at the cancelled camping trip, Henry seemed to have forgotten all about it when she reminded him of the comforts of home camping and the awesome backyard that came with their house.

After the day they had, Emma just couldn’t think of Henry in the woods.

“Emma?”

Speaking of, her deputy’s voice from the phone in her ear brings her back to the present.

“Yeah, sorry.” She turns her back to the window, leaning on the counter. “I got distracted.”

“I was saying that Mr. Jones should be going into his MRI scan right now and after that, they are preparing him for surgery on his leg. The doctors said that despite the trauma his body has been through, he’s doing really well.”

“That’s good, that’s good,” Emma breathes out in relief. Against her best interests, she hadn’t been able to put this strange rescue away from her mind. There was just something about the call, his voice, his eyes, that just didn’t seem right.

She feels Graham’s patient silence on the other side and she nods to herself to gather up courage. “Doesn’t all of this seem strange to you? The whole situation.”

“Emma-”

“He didn’t call the station, Graham, it was someone else, I swear,” she interrupts, her hackles raised. “He didn’t have a phone on him either, this is all just-”

“Weird,” Graham interrupts this time and he sighs. “I should have told you earlier, but I know Killian Jones, we a- were friends.”

“What?”

“He used to live here until last year. His brother, he-” Emma waits in suspense as Graham takes a deep steadying breath. “He died while on a hike in that trail a year ago, I assume Killian went there to pay his respects. I didn’t even know he was in town until we found him.”

“Y-You didn’t say anything.”

“Well, I didn’t want to believe it was him and then, when we found him, I knew I had to stay focused. I needed to do my job.”

“Right,” Emma scratches her forehead, her brain full of conflicting thoughts. This was a lot to consider. “So who called the station? A ghost?” She asks her question sarcastically to disguise how the possibility doesn’t sound too ridiculous to her.

“All I know is that we had a long day, Emma,” Graham evades, his tone placating and calm. “We should get our rest and look at this whole thing again tomorrow, with fresh eyes.”

“You’re right,” she exhales. “Goodnight, Graham. Keep me updated.”

“Goodnight, Emma.”

Emma ends the call and throws the phone at the dinner table. She’s going to push those doubts away even if she needs to force them away. She’s got some happy campers to focus on. Emma pulls the popcorn from the microwave and picks up the platter she made with the components for s’mores before pushing the back door open carefully.

“Does anyone know any ghost stories?” Ava Zimmer is almost vibrating in her seat as she grabs a handful of chips Emma brought earlier. Camping is not synonymous with healthy food.

“Ghosts? Aren’t we too old for that?” Nicholas Zimmer, on the other hand, is trying to hide his fear with bravado.

“Come on, Nick, it’s almost Halloween.” Henry knocks shoulders with his friend’s and she can hear the grin in his voice. “And that means ghost stories. Besides, they’re not real.”

“Yeah,” Ava agrees. “It’s just spooky and Halloween is the time for spooky.”

“Just not too spooky,” Emma interrupts, ignoring the way Nicholas startles at the sound of her voice - no need to embarrass the boy. “Otherwise you won’t sleep tonight.”

“Have you heard the story of the Misthaven Ghost?” Henry leans close to his friends on the bench with a grin.

Emma is glad for her steady grip on the platter or there would be no s’mores tonight. “Misthaven Ghost? Where did you hear that sort of story?” She tries to keep her voice cool but even she can hear the edge in it - was she the last one to hear about this? -, focusing instead on placing the food down on the small camping table she opened.

“Mr. Booth is having us write a ghost story for class and he gave us that one as an example,” Henry answers and he must misinterpret her questioning as innocent curiosity but she’s not going to correct him. “Do you wanna hear it?”

“Would you mind if I joined you?”

“No, please join us!” Nicholas grabs her thankfully empty hands to pull her to sit between him and his twin after Henry stands up to stand on the other side of the fire.

“You’re such a scaredy cat.” Ava teases, looking at him around Emma.

“Shut up.”

“You shut up.”

“Kids.” Emma warns, holding their arms to keep them from hitting each other.

“Listen up! For I am about to tell you the story of the Misthaven Ghost,” Henry calls from the other side of the fire before popping another popcorn in his mouth. Emma finds herself smiling at her kid’s dramatics. “It was a cold night in October, the 30th of October to be exact. An innocent man is walking the Misthaven Trail, determined to beat all odds and finish the hike. He is alone, nothing but his thoughts and the animals around him,” Nicholas plasters himself to Emma’s side. “He carries only a phone that won’t work this far into the woods and his bravery. He hears a presence to his right, to his left, all around, feels the hairs at the back of his neck stand in attention and a voice whispers in the wind,” Ava holds her right arm now as Henry lowers his voice. “‘Get out of the woods’, it says, ‘get out’, but the hiker is too fearless to heed their warning. Suddenly, a boom lights the sky and the ground gives out from under him, and then he’s falling. He’s falling and he can’t ask for help,” Emma feels the shiver running up her spine and, distantly, she thinks maybe Henry should focus on this storytelling ability he has. “He is floating on the river then, his body weak and leaving him, his last thought on the family he leaves behind, a last goodbye sent to the stars he loved so much.”

Henry finishes with a fluttering gesture towards the night sky. Ava and Nicholas on either side of her are gripping her arm, not willing to break the silence.

“He had a family?” Emma asks and even her quiet tone manages to startle the twins.

“Were you scared, Ava?” Nicholas asks as he looks at his sister, a victorious grin winning over his fear.

Ava huffs and crosses her arms. “No, you’re the scared one.”

“It’s a good story, isn’t it?” Henry asks, a bright smile on his face and a proud stance to his shoulders.

“Mr. Booth told you this story?” Emma tries again.

“Yeah,” Henry grabs another handful of popcorn, now that his story is done, eating one at a time. “He wanted us to have an example of what to write but he was probably also showing off.”

The kids laugh, everyone in town knowing of August’s designs of being a published author and his constant promises of finishing his novel soon. But there was still something niggling at Emma’s brain.

“Did he make up the story himself? Or did he hear it from someone?”

“He says he made it up inspired by a real event,” Henry shrugs. “I told Mrs. Nolan about it and she said that, about a year ago, someone did die in those woods and that’s when the Mayor put out the announcement.” He grabs the marshmallow sticks and passes them along to his friends who are still visibly spooked. “Apparently there had been lots of reports of injuries and lost hikers on that trail before that.”

“So it took someone dying for them to actually do something about it? Figures.” Emma scoffs and Henry shrugs, unaware of the turmoil in his mother’s brain.

“Okay, can we tell less spooky stories now?” Nicholas asks, begs almost, bringing Emma back to the present. The fact that Ava doesn’t tease her brother is telling.

“Why don’t I grab my laptop and put on a movie for you?” Emma suggests, standing up from the bench.

“Nightmare before Christmas?” Nicholas turns pleading eyes towards his friends.

Ava nods and then seems to remember herself. “Only if we watch ‘Monster House’ after.”

Her twin seems to think about it before nodding resolutely. “Deal! Is that okay, Henry?”

Henry smiles, seemingly just happy to have a fun night with his friends. “As long as it’s Halloween themed, I’m in.”

Emma grins, despite everything. “Double feature it is,” she chuckles. “I’ll set it up.”

‘This is Halloween’ drifts through the open kitchen window as the kids settle down making s’mores in the yard while Emma sits at the kitchen table. She finds Killian Jones’ social media easily enough - she wouldn’t have become one of the best bail bondsperson in the business without being able to find someone’s internet footprint with only a name and a date of birth. It might be slightly illegal to have taken a picture of the man’s ID but what is she gonna do? Arrest herself?

Maybe Emma needed to take a long look within herself if she was negotiating committing illegal acts to herself… After she got to the bottom of this mystery.

Killian Jones is even more handsome than she had previously thought. Considering the only times she’d been able to actually look at him were either a small grainy ID photo or him caked in dirt and blood, it wasn’t a high bar.

Seeing him on the deck of a small boat, a colourful shirt open to show his chest underneath, his eyes crinkled in laughter as he holds out a beer bottle in cheers to the person behind the camera is a welcome alternative. She has to force herself to scroll past the picture.

She notices belatedly that the last post - the Hawaiian shirt distraction - is from a year ago, September to be exact. In the middle of all the thirsty comments, she finds something interesting. ‘Don’t shut me out, Killian, I’m here for you’, was posted by one bookworm33 and it would have looked weird if it didn’t speak of desperation and worry.

Emma continues to scroll down and doesn’t have to swipe too long before she pauses at a picture of Killian Jones and a man that shares the same eyes and facial features. Her gut tugs at her and she taps on the picture once, a tag covering the man’s eyes. Bejewelled40 - whose real name is Liam Jones - aside from being a Taylor Swift fan, is also Killian Jones’ brother.

There are pictures of them in boats, hiking, and visiting foreign countries, even some that include Graham. His posts also end a year ago and the ‘remembering’ on the top of his profile is an easy explanation. Clicking on the first photo - different angles to the September boat trip, focusing more on Liam Jones than his brother - she finds another comment hidden between thirsty comments and boat enthusiasts. ‘I miss you’, written simply and it’s the lack of emojis that catch Emma’s attention. Bookworm33 was clearly important to the siblings.

It doesn’t take her long to get a better picture of the situation. Belle French, the brother’s friend, has been a librarian at Storybrooke High for the past 4 years after a troublesome divorce made her move cities. Pictures and references to the Jones brothers start a few months after that, before there’s a significant lack of Killian Jones in her pictures a year later.

An article in the local newsletter, an announcement in the paper and a remembrance post on Facebook spells out the rest of the story. The Jones Brothers move to Storybrooke 5 years ago and join the community, Liam as the Sheriff and Killian as the Harbormaster; Belle and Liam start their romance and become engaged two years ago. A year ago, Belle’s father passes away and she travels back home and Liam is found dead on the Misthaven Trail three days later. Killian Jones isn’t seen in Storybrooke for a whole year after the funeral until Emma finds him almost dead by the river bank.

A message notification puts an end to her research. ‘Jones is out of surgery and we should be able to visit him tomorrow’, Graham texts and she looks at the clock. Emma sighs. Two hours researching and she still has so many questions.

‘Take the day off tomorrow, Humbert, I’ll follow up with Jones’, she messages back. ‘Don’t argue with me, I’m your boss, you deserve some rest’, she sends right after, expecting the argument.

‘Alright, Sheriff, I leave it to your capable hands.’ The reminder causes her to massage her temples. She has Liam Jones’ job; could this whole situation feel more like a horror movie?

Going back to Liam Jones’ instagram, Emma finds a picture of him with Graham in a nature setting. With a squint and a zoom, she recognises the setting. She swipes to find a video with Graham’s voice from behind the camera and Liam Jones struggling but determined to take his next step.

“We’re currently on mile 5 of the Misthaven Trail,” Graham explains, a very faint hint of tiredness in his tone as he sweeps the camera over their surroundings and Emma can’t help the eerie feeling at the setting sun behind the trees. “As you can see, this area is beautiful and peaceful, a great place to be at one with yourself and your thoughts.” There’s a scoff from the right and Graham laughs, turning the camera to his friend. “Liam here is having some trouble.” He earns himself a glare from his companion. “There've been a lot of accidents in this area so this is your friendly reminder to be careful where you step and to respect the forest.”

“You’ve lectured every single lost or injured hiker we pulled out of these woods. Friendly, my arse.” Emma sucks in a breath at the sound of Liam Jones’ voice. Graham’s responding laughter and voice seems to sound from underwater as he defends himself.

Please, help me, plea-

It’s the same voice. She feels the tingle in her spine and the raised hairs on her arms she had before. How could it be possible?

Sounds of yelps outside have her jumping from her seat, her heart beating rapidly against her chest. Subsequent cheering reminds her of her whereabouts. It’s the kids reacting to the anthropomorphic house finally meeting its demise on the small screen. Emma grips onto the kitchen counter, taking deep steadying breaths.

She needs to have a chat with Killian Jones.

---

It’s rainy and gloomy the next day when Emma arrives at the hospital.

Maybe the weather’s a sign. It’s not like she was ever a superstitious person but it’s hard to remain sceptical after the day she’s had. The nurse tells her he’s in room 13. Of course.

In the corridor, she sees a familiar figure.

“I thought I told you to take the day off, Humbert.”

Emma almost grins when he startles. Almost. She simply crosses her arms as she stares him down. Graham looks away, as if he just got caught in the proverbial cookie jar, it’s a cute look.

“I am taking my day off, Emma,” Graham defends and she raises her eyebrow. “I didn’t ask him anything that could be related to the case. I just-”

“Wanted to see how your friend was,” she finishes for him.

Graham stuffs his hands in his jeans pockets and nods. “I just needed to make sure he was okay.”

“Because Liam would have wanted you to do the same.”

He looks up at her with wide eyes and parted lips. This might have been the first time she’s shocked her deputy in the year they’ve worked together.

“H-how…?”

“I did some research last night.” She uncrosses her arms to stuff her hands in the back pockets of her jeans. “I found Killian Jones’ social media, which led me to Liam’s, to Belle’s and then to yours. You were his deputy.”

“The four of us bonded over being away from home.” He shrugs, trying to hide the heartache over the loss. “After Liam passed, it all fell apart.”

“I’d never seen Killian Jones in Storybrooke before today, or Belle French.”

“Killian left after the funeral, said something about a family member in Boston even though I’m sure they didn’t have any family in the States. He rejected all my calls, I had no way to find him.” Graham sighs, scratching his forehead. “Belle isolated herself the first few months. After that she would go from home to work and back. She’s been trying to go out more, determined to live her life the way Liam would have wanted her to. It’s still a slow process but at least she’s trying.”

“And here you are in the middle of everything trying to be there for everyone.”

“I didn’t lose a brother or a fiance, Emma, I’m fine.” He crosses his arms and she recognises the look on his face.

“Right, if you want me to be ‘bad cop’, I will,” she threatens.

“Seriously, Emma, I’m fine, it’s been a year and-”

“Graham,” she interrupts, holding up her hand. “Go see Dr. Hopper or I’m suspending you.”

He groans and yet, it feels like a victory. “Yes, boss.” He mockingly salutes and yet it still shows his respect.

“Go home and enjoy the rest of the day off while I go and talk to Mr. Jones.” Emma pats his arm and he nods.

“I told him to tell you everything he could remember,” Graham informs her. “I know you can do your job but he can be very stubborn so I just wanted to make it a little easier for you.”

“Thanks,” Emma smiles amusedly and watches as he walks past her. “Hey, Graham?” He stops in the corridor and she can’t hold back her curiosity. “Liam was the sheriff before me,” Graham shifts in his feet, uncomfortable. “Did you apply for the job? I’d think you’d be a shoe-in to be the next Sheriff as opposed to an outsider.”

“Nah,” He shrugs and she can actually see the weight on his shoulders. “It wouldn’t have felt right.” His lips curl up in a small smile, a grieving smile. “Besides, you are a great boss.”

Emma rolls her eyes but her smile is wide. “Get some rest and go see Dr. Hopper.”

“Yes, boss,” he repeats before he leaves the hospital wing all together.

With a deep steadying breath, Emma knocks at the door of room 13.

“Come in.”

She nods to herself before opening the door. “Mr. Jones, I’m-”

“Sheriff Emma Swan,” Killian Jones nods at her. “Graham told me you were coming. Didn’t expect you here so fast though.”

“As it happens, you’re my only open case.”

She stands a few feet from his bed, arms crossed as she finally takes a look at the man they saved the day before, now no-longer covered in blood and dirt. There is a bandage on his forehead all the way down to the temple, his face, neck and hands - the only things visible - filled with small scratches, and his leg is in a thick cast. He looks tired but okay.

He looks handsome too and she’s trying not to remember his boat pictures. It helps that the hospital gown and robe cover his chest and what she knows is underneath. She’s really trying.

“Why don’t you take a seat?” He gestures to the chair next to his bed, where she assumes Graham had been seated minutes prior. “We’re probably in for a long chat.”

She should refuse, keep him at a distance. She sits down but not before pulling the chair back a few inches. Emma catches an amused smile on his lips and she wonders what else Graham told him about her. She clears her throat focusing on being professional.

“Alright, Mr. Jones-”

“Please, call me Killian.”

Emma nods, trying to look away from the soft smile he directed at her. “Killian.” His smile grows. Professional, Emma. “Do you remember what happened before we found you?”

“Aye,” It’s his turn to clear his throat at the wavering tone of his voice. “The ground slid out from under me and I fell, hit my head and broke my leg.”

His tone was distant, factual, and it sounded wrong in his voice. “What were you doing in that part of the woods?”

“I-uh, I went there to drink.”

“We didn’t find any evidence of alcoholic beverages and your blood alcohol levels were very low.” She raises her eyebrow at his half-truth. “Let me tell you a little secret.” She leans forward, her elbows on her knees. “I-”

“Have a thing with lies.” There is a small smile on his lips at Emma’s surprised expression. “Graham told me about that.”

“Right.” It takes her a second to recover from the surprise. “If you know, why don’t we avoid lying or, in this case, omitting part of the story and you tell me the truth.”

“Commanding, I like it.” He smirks weakly and at the roll of her eyes, he nods in preparation, his expression turning serious. “I was there to mourn my brother, Liam.”

“Why not go to the cemetery? I’m sure you’ve heard how dangerous that part of the woods is.”

“That’s where he died,” His voice is low and she can only just hear it over the beeping of the machines. “Graham and the others found his body wrapped around on a rock in the river the next morning. He’d bled out during the night.”

“So he got injured the day before? How did no one notice he was gone for so long?” She doesn’t mean for her voice to sound accusing but from the guilty self-punishing look in Killian’s face, that’s how he would describe it.

“A few weeks before he passed, I went through a break-up,” he sighs, settling carefully on the pillows at his back and Emma does the same on the cushioned chair. “I had fallen in love with a married woman.” She tries to contain her surprise and apprehension but it’s like he can see everything she tries to hide. “I know, I got an earful from my brother when we started dating. But she promised that she was going to divorce her husband as soon as she could find a good lawyer so she could guarantee a joint custody deal.”

“She has a child?”

He nods and his frown is enough for her to understand his conflict. “We kept it a secret. We didn’t want to do anything that would jeopardise her relationship with her son. Liam kept telling me how reckless I was being, how naive, but I kept shutting him down. I was in love.” He shrugs. “After a while he stopped trying and I was happy.”

“Her husband found out.” It wasn’t a question.

“I got greedy, selfish,” Killian’s tone turns hard, self-loathing. “We went to a cafe in town and she was nervous but I was happy, I was out in public with the love of my life.” He shakes his head with a scoff. “Her husband walked in with her son right behind him and I considered it luck that the cafe was almost empty. The boy came up to us first, asking his mom why she was there and who I was. I didn’t know what to say and her husband was looking at me like he wanted to kill me.” Killian sighs. “She asked me to leave and that she would talk to me later.”

“I’m assuming it didn’t go well.”

He actually laughs, a sharp, terrible sound. “I had gotten myself into a state when she finally met me. We yelled at each other, she accused me of pushing, I accused her of playing with my feelings. When she finally told me that she almost lost her son because of me, I shut up. She told me she was going to go back to her husband, that he was willing to take her back after the stupid mistake she made and then she left.” He finishes with a sigh and Emma leans back on her chair, overwhelmed. “I didn’t take it well.”

“Who would?”

His chuckle brings her eyes back to his and despite the pain behind them, there’s an amused glint in the blue eyes that definitely do not get captured well in pictures. “For the next few weeks, I started drinking. A lot. I didn’t want to see Liam’s disappointment or self-righteousness so I distanced myself. That day, he barged into my house, took one look at the half-empty bottle in my hand and went off on me.” He shifts in his bed, hissing when his leg moves wrong. “I can see now that he was scared but at that moment I was angry. We argued and I told him that I never wanted to see him again and he left my house.”

“Is that why no one filed a missing persons report?”

He nods and his eyes water. “I drank the whole night after he left and the next day, I woke up to someone banging on my door. It was Belle.” His breath shudders. “She had been trying to call him all morning. Liam had told her that he would be coming to my place so she thought he’d stayed the night, when he didn’t text her or call her the next morning, she started to get worried. That fear, the feeling that someone had gone wrong to someone you love, was the sharpest cure for a hangover I ever had.” They both shared a mirthless chuckle. “We called Graham right away and when he didn’t know where Liam was, it became a town wide search.” He takes a deep breath. “Graham found his car parked at Toll Bridge and searched through Misthaven Trail.”

“He fell.” Emma wrings her fingers as she watches the emotions in Killian’s face.

“He left his phone in the car so when he fell into the river, he couldn’t call for help.” He sniffs, staring at the wall in front of him. “So imagine my surprise when you and Graham showed up to my rescue despite the fact that I also left my phone in my car and no one knew I was even in town.” Killian turns to her, his eyes still full of pain but a curious small smile gracing his lips.

Emma tucks her hair behind her ear in a nervous move and leans back on the chair. “It’s like I told you yesterday, we received a call that helped us find you.”

“Right,” he frowns. “And as I just said, I left my phone in the car, so it’s impossible.”

She sighs. “I’m aware of that and, trust me, I’ve spent the whole night trying to figure it out and the only explanation I have is impossible.”

“Try me.”

Emma opens and closes her mouth a few times while Killian looks on patiently. “All our calls are recorded,” she says instead, pulling her phone from her pocket. “Before I came here, I went by the station to download the recording, so I’m just gonna play it for you.” Killian raises an eyebrow while Emma brings up the file.

“Sheriff Swan speaking.”

Static rings out from the speaker and she tenses up all over again. “Help, I-I fell-” Killian gasps and she gives in to his silent request and hands him the phone. “The cliff gave out. Can you hear me?”

“Uh, yes, yes, I can hear you, sir. Can you tell me where you fell?”

“I w-was on the Misthaven Trail, I-I think I broke my leg,” Killian’s eyes shine with tears at his brother’s voice, at his sounds of pain and Emma feels her chest tighten. “I can see the bone, I-”

Static plays up again and she is dreading the end of the call. “I can barely hear you, sir.” His knuckles turn white from where he is gripping the phone and a tear falls down his cheek. “Can you tell me precisely where on the trail?”

“The river, Shepherd River. I’m bleeding, please, help me, plea-”

Killian takes a shuddering breath when the recording ends and the phone drops on the bed. She should grab the phone and give him space. She should ask him questions about it. And yet, Emma finds herself grabbing his trembling hand with hers, her whole skin tingling at the touch. He grips her hand back tighter, forcing himself to take deep breaths.

“H-How-,” he whispers in a broken tone. “That’s my brother’s voice but-but how is it possible?”

Killian looks at her, pleading for an answer, for an explanation. But she can’t give him one. Emma shrugs helplessly. “I don’t know.” Her thumb moves unconsciously over his knuckles. “But if it wasn’t for this call, we wouldn’t have found you.”

To her surprise, Killian starts to laugh even as tears fall down his face, a disbelieving sound. “I can’t believe this.” He covers his face with his free hand and Emma squeezes his hand, silently asking for clarification. He sighs and looks at her, his eyes bluer than they’d been before. “I ran away after the funeral, they had barely finished covering the casket and I was crossing the town line. I knew Belle needed me to stay, Graham too, we should have mourned together, helped each other during this but I-I-”

“You blamed yourself.”

He exhales a laugh. “Aye, stupidly tried to find answers at the bottom of a bottle once again. I just kept replaying our last argument, kept seeing him bleeding out in the river and I knew I couldn’t grieve when I knew it was my fault.”

Emma opens her mouth to protest but Killian raises his hand, stilling the words she still wasn’t sure she would say. “After a night where I was almost inducted into this woman’s witchy cult,” and she really wishes she had the chance to ask about that, “I looked for help. Found a therapist, grieved. A week ago, I told him about the anniversary of Liam’s death coming up and he suggested I visit his grave, talk to him, ask for forgiveness.” He sighs. “I was on my way to the cemetery when I found myself on the Toll Bridge. I thought it was a sign when I found the marker Graham made to honour Liam. I sat there and talked to him, I didn’t realise how much anger I still felt towards him dying, abandoning me.” He laughed sarcastically. “Ridiculous, I know. I threw my flask and I felt the ground slide from under me and I thought ‘there it is, your revenge, Liam, you’re finally punishing your killer’.”

“And then we showed up.”

“And I thought that maybe you had appeared for a reason and now hearing that?” He looks at her embarrassed, shaking his head. “I sound like a crazy person but-”

“I thought I was crazy,” Emma interrupts him with a reassuring smile. “Common sense would have you think the call was a prank. But from the moment I got the call, my instincts told me something wasn’t right, that there was more to the story.”

“I’m really glad you decided to go with your instinct, then,” he smiles softly. “If you hadn’t, I probably wouldn’t have made it.”

“But you did.” She squeezes his hand and they both seem to remember that their hands are still clasped together. She doesn’t let go and neither does he. “And if we are to believe in ghost stories, your brother is adamant that you get a second chance.”

They lock eyes, share a soft smile and she figures professionalism has been thrown out the window from the moment she took his hand. He nods and his smile widens. She kinda wishes they could hold hands forever.

Wait, what?

“You may be right.” His voice is soft and it feels like he’s trying to look inside her, searching. “He’d probably beat up the side of the head that it took me this long to get my head out of my own arse.”

Emma chuckles and his smile widens. “I don’t think he expected you to break your leg and your head to get the message across.”

“Well,” his lips curve into a side smirk and she’s not ready for it, “I’m guessing that the service in the afterlife is a little spotty.” She laughs, surprised at his joke, and he laughs with her. Nope, she was not ready. “My brother always gave me good advice, maybe I should follow this last one too and take that second chance he gave me.”

“Oh?”

Her heart hammers against her chest at the way he looks at her. He opens his mouth to answer when the room door bursts open.

“Killian Jones!”

Emma jumps from her seat, refusing to acknowledge how empty her hand feels now that it’s no longer holding his, to make space for the shorter brunette storming up to Killian’s bed.

Belle French.

“I haven’t heard from you in a whole year and then I have Graham calling me to tell me you’re in the hospital?!”

But Killian only smiles, clearly happy to see his would-be sister-in-law despite the guilt beginning to take root in his eyes. “I’m so happy to see you, Belle.” And it’s clear that the simple sentence breaks something in the librarian’s being. With two quick strides, she embraces him tightly. “Careful, love, I’m an invalid now,” he complains, even as his arms hold her closer, willing to ignore any pain it might be causing him.

“You’re in a world of trouble, Killian.”

His smile only widens and he turns to look at Emma, likely amused at the overwhelmed look on her face. Belle seems to realise that there’s someone else in the room - not that Emma blames her - and turns to her.

“Oh, I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to ignore you, I-”

“No need to apologise,” Emma raises her hand to stop the apology. “I just needed to take Mr. Jones’ testimony.” He raises an eyebrow at her use of his last name, clearly unimpressed by her choice to be professional. “Sheriff Emma Swan,” she introduces herself before holding out her hand.

“Belle French.” Belle takes her hand, still somewhat surprised as she looks between Killian and her. “Is he in some kind of trouble then?” Her expression seems ready for a fight and Killian’s smile seems to grow.

“No, no,” Emma is quick to appease. “I just needed the full story, that’s all.” She stuffs her hands in the back pockets of her jeans. “I actually should go write up the report.” She takes a few steps back towards the door. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss French. Get better soon, Mr. Jones.”

She starts to walk out the door. “Emma,” Killian calls and she really should not have turned around so fast. “Maybe we can grab a coffee when I get discharged? You can tell me all about safety measures when hiking.”

Emma tries to ignore Belle’s curious expression. “I think Graham might be the better man for the job.”

“He’s been trying for years, it never stuck,” He grins and there’s only so much a girl can be expected to take. “Maybe you’ll have more luck.”

She bites her lip and focuses on the hopeful look in his eyes. The last time she trusted someone, that she gave someone a chance, she ended up in prison. She should say no.

Maybe she can justify this leap on supernatural activity too?

“It’s a date.”

The way his grin lights up a whole room does feel otherworldly.

Just as the door closes behind her, she hears Belle’s stupefied voice.

“Killian Jones, you have a lot of explaining to do.”

Emma laughs. Maybe not all ghost stories have to have bad endings.

#ouat ff #cs ff #carolina writes #ghost stories #cs bingo 2024 #killian jones #emma swan #graham humbert #henry mills #belle french #captain hook #captainswan #ouat #once upon a time

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anonymouswriter2311 · 3 months ago

Text

Choose Me - Swan Queen

***

The heavy oak door of Regina’s mansion groaned as Emma Swan pushed it open, the sound echoing through the quiet foyer. She hesitated on the threshold, fidgeting with the strap of her leather jacket, the weight of her decision to come here pressing heavily on her chest. For a woman who regularly faced curses and monsters, asking for a dance lesson from Regina Mills felt oddly daunting.

“Emma,” Regina’s voice called from the parlor, smooth and authoritative. “You’re late.”

Emma rolled her eyes, the familiar bite of Regina’s tone offering a small sense of normalcy. “Yeah, yeah, punctuality’s not my strong suit.” She stepped inside, her boots clicking against the polished floor as she followed the soft strains of classical music.

When Emma entered the parlor, she stopped short. The room was bathed in warm, golden light from a chandelier overhead, the shadows flickering softly in time with the crackling fire in the hearth. Regina stood near the center, dressed in an elegant black blouse and tight skirt, her dark hair falling in soft waves around her shoulders. A record player in the corner spun a slow, lilting waltz.

Emma shoved her hands into her pockets, suddenly feeling underdressed in her jeans and flannel shirt. “Wow, this is…fancy.”

Regina arched an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Did you expect anything less?”

“Guess not.” Emma stepped further into the room, eyeing the setup. “So, uh, thanks for doing this. I could’ve asked Snow, but…”

“Snow would have been a terrible choice,” Regina interrupted, her smirk widening. “Charming has two left feet, and your mother is even worse.” She walked toward Emma with a fluid grace, extending a hand. “Come on. Let’s see just how hopeless you are.”

Emma snorted, though her stomach fluttered as she placed her hand in Regina’s. “Don’t sugarcoat it or anything.”

Regina’s fingers were cool and steady against Emma’s as she guided her to the center of the room. “I don’t waste time with platitudes, Miss Swan. If you want to avoid stepping on your husband’s feet during your wedding dance, you’ll listen and follow my lead.”

The mention of Hook sent a brief pang of guilt through Emma, but she shoved it down. “Got it. Lead away, Your Majesty.”

Regina stepped close, her hand resting lightly on Emma’s waist while her other hand held Emma’s in a firm yet gentle grip. Emma stiffened at the sudden proximity, her breath catching as the scent of Regina’s perfume—something rich and floral—washed over her.

“Relax,” Regina murmured, her voice softer now, almost coaxing. “You can’t dance if you’re this tense.”

“Yeah, well, standing this close to you would make anyone tense,” Emma muttered, avoiding Regina’s gaze.

Regina chuckled, low and throaty, and Emma’s cheeks burned. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were nervous.”

“I’m not nervous,” Emma lied, her voice too quick and sharp.

Regina’s knowing smile only deepened as she began to guide Emma through the first steps of the dance. “One, two, three. One, two, three. Follow my movements. Don’t overthink.”

Easier said than done. Emma stumbled almost immediately, her foot catching Regina’s.

“Sorry!” Emma grimaced, expecting Regina to snap at her, but Regina only tightened her grip slightly, steadying her.

“Stop apologizing. Try again.”

Emma nodded, biting her lip as she focused on Regina’s movements. The music swelled around them, the notes lilting and light. Slowly, Emma began to fall into rhythm, her steps matching Regina’s. They moved together in a gentle circle, the rest of the world melting away until there was only the music and the warmth of Regina’s hand on her waist.

“See?” Regina murmured, her lips curving into a small smile. “You’re not entirely hopeless.”

“Gee, thanks,” Emma said, but there was no bite in her words. Her heart was pounding, though not from the effort of the dance.

The smile lingered on Regina’s face as she glanced down at Emma’s feet, making sure she stayed on time. “You’re better at this than you give yourself credit for. You just need to trust yourself.”

Emma’s breath hitched. There was something about the way Regina said those words, her voice softer than Emma had ever heard it, that sent a shiver down her spine. For a brief moment, their eyes met, and Emma felt an unfamiliar warmth bloom in her chest.

“So,” Emma said, clearing her throat in an attempt to break the tension, “how do you know how to dance like this, anyway? Fancy mayor lessons?”

Regina tilted her head, her expression turning wistful. “I was a Queen long before I became mayor, Miss Swan.” Her voice darkened slightly, the edge of bitterness unmistakable. “One of the few lessons I actually appreciated.”

Emma frowned, the hint of pain in Regina’s voice tugging at her. “Regina…”

Before she could say more, Regina’s grip on her waist tightened, pulling her slightly closer. “Focus, Miss Swan. You’re getting distracted.”

Emma’s cheeks burned, but she didn’t argue. Instead, she let Regina guide her, their movements becoming smoother with every step. For a fleeting moment, Emma allowed herself to get lost in the dance, the closeness, and the way Regina’s eyes softened when they looked at her.

But deep down, she knew this was dangerous territory.

The music shifted, the melody deepening into something slower, richer, as Regina guided Emma through the movements. Their steps were fluid now, the initial awkwardness gone, but with it came a tension Emma wasn’t sure how to handle.

Regina’s hand rested firmly against her waist, her other hand holding Emma’s just tightly enough to ground her. The firelight flickered across Regina’s face, softening the sharp edges of her features. She was breathtaking, and that thought alone made Emma’s chest tighten.

“Better,” Regina said, her voice low and smooth, a hint of approval in her tone. “You’re not tripping over my feet anymore. I’d almost call that progress.”

Emma grinned, trying to keep the mood light even as her pulse raced. “Careful, Regina. If you keep complimenting me, I might start thinking you like me.”

Regina arched an elegant eyebrow, her lips curving into a smirk. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

Emma laughed, the sound breaking the tension for a brief moment. But then Regina spun her gently, their hands never losing contact, and when Emma returned to face her, the air between them shifted again. The laughter faded, replaced by something heavier, something that made Emma’s throat dry.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Emma asked, her voice quieter than she intended.

“Like what?” Regina countered, her expression unreadable, though there was a faint softness in her eyes that Emma couldn’t ignore.

“Like…” Emma hesitated, her words catching in her throat. “Never mind.”

Regina tilted her head, her dark eyes searching Emma’s face. “You’re overthinking again,” she said softly, her voice almost teasing, though there was a warmth beneath it. “Relax. Just follow me.”

Emma swallowed hard, nodding as she tried to focus on the steps instead of the way Regina’s hand felt against her waist. She could feel the heat of Regina’s palm through the fabric of her shirt, and it was both comforting and entirely overwhelming.

The dance continued, their movements growing more seamless with each turn. But the tension only grew, threading through the space between them like an unspoken question neither of them was ready to ask.

“You’re surprisingly graceful,” Regina said after a moment, her voice breaking the silence.

“Surprisingly?” Emma shot her a mock glare, grateful for the distraction.

Regina’s lips twitched in amusement. “I suppose I should have more faith in your abilities. You’ve proven me wrong before.”

Emma smiled, though her chest tightened at the way Regina was looking at her—like she wasn’t just talking about the dance. She tried to ignore the heat rising in her cheeks, but it was impossible when Regina’s gaze felt so intent, so piercing.

“Regina…” Emma started, unsure of what she wanted to say.

Regina’s grip on her waist shifted slightly, her fingers brushing against Emma’s side. “Yes?”

The question hung in the air, and Emma suddenly felt like the ground beneath her had disappeared. She wasn’t sure what was happening, but it felt like a line was being crossed, one they could never uncross.

The music slowed, the final notes of the song fading into the silence of the room. Regina didn’t let go, and neither did Emma. They stood there, still locked in the dance, their bodies close enough that Emma could feel the warmth radiating from Regina’s skin.

“You’re staring again,” Regina murmured, her voice soft but filled with something Emma couldn’t quite place.

Emma blinked, realizing too late that she had been. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“Don’t apologize,” Regina interrupted, her tone gentle. She stepped closer, her grip on Emma’s waist tightening just enough to keep her in place. “Not for that.”

Emma’s breath hitched, her heart pounding so loudly she was sure Regina could hear it. “What are we doing?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Regina didn’t answer right away. Instead, she reached up with her free hand, brushing a stray strand of hair away from Emma’s face. The touch was featherlight, but it sent a shiver down Emma’s spine.

“Dancing,” Regina said finally, though there was a tremor in her voice now, a vulnerability Emma had never heard before.

“Regina…” Emma’s voice broke, her hands trembling as she clung to Regina’s. She felt like she was standing on the edge of something vast and terrifying, and yet she couldn’t bring herself to step back.

“You’re not thinking about the wedding,” Regina said quietly, her eyes locked on Emma’s. It wasn’t a question.

Emma opened her mouth to argue, to say something—anything—but no words came out. She couldn’t lie, not when Regina was looking at her like that.

“I didn’t think so,” Regina said, her lips curving into a sad smile. “You forget how terrible you are at hiding your emotions.”

Emma huffed out a shaky laugh, though it was tinged with something like panic. “Guess you know me too well, huh?”

Regina’s smile faded, replaced by an intensity that made Emma’s knees weak. “Yes,” she said simply, her voice low and steady. “I do.”

They stood there, frozen in the moment, the fire crackling softly in the background. Emma could feel her resolve slipping, crumbling under the weight of the tension between them. She didn’t know who moved first—maybe it was her, maybe it was Regina—but suddenly their faces were inches apart, their breaths mingling.

“Emma…” Regina’s voice was barely a whisper now, her hand brushing against Emma’s cheek.

Emma closed her eyes, her heart pounding as she leaned in, the space between them disappearing. The kiss, when it came, was soft at first—tentative, hesitant, as if they were both afraid to break the moment. But then it deepened, passion and longing spilling out in a way neither of them could control.

Time seemed to stop as they clung to each other, the world outside the parlor forgotten. The kiss was everything—gentle and desperate, filled with years of unspoken emotions finally given a voice.

The fire crackled softly, the flames casting flickering shadows across the walls, but Emma barely noticed. All she could focus on was Regina—her lips, her eyes, her hand still gently brushing Emma’s cheek. The silence between them was deafening, broken only by the sound of their breaths mingling in the small space left between them.

Emma should have pulled away. She knew it. She should have stepped back, made some awkward joke, and walked out of the room. But she didn’t.

Regina’s thumb traced along Emma’s cheekbone, her touch so soft it sent a shiver down Emma’s spine. “Emma…” Regina whispered, her voice trembling with something Emma couldn’t quite name.

Emma swallowed hard, her heart pounding so loudly it drowned out every rational thought. “Regina, I—”

Before she could finish, before the words could tumble out and ruin whatever this was, she leaned in. The second kiss, sudden and desperate, their lips meeting in a collision of heat and emotion. Emma’s hands flew to Regina’s waist, gripping her like she was afraid she might disappear.

This kiss was different from the first—there was no hesitation, no restraint. It was fierce, raw, and filled with every unspoken word they’d never had the courage to say. Regina responded immediately, her arms winding around Emma’s neck, pulling her closer until there was no space left between them.

For a moment, nothing else existed—no wedding, no expectations, no consequences. Just them.

But then reality crept back in, cold and unforgiving. Emma broke the kiss with a sharp gasp, stepping back as if the distance might help her breathe again. “I—I can’t,” she stammered, her voice trembling.

Regina’s lips parted, her breathing uneven as she stared at Emma with wide, vulnerable eyes. “Emma…”

Emma shook her head, her hands trembling as she raked them through her hair. “This isn’t supposed to happen,” she said, her voice breaking. “I’m getting married, Regina. I’m supposed to be with him.”

Regina flinched, the words landing like a blow. But she didn’t step back. Instead, she straightened, her shoulders squaring as she took a slow, deliberate step forward. “Then why are you here, Emma?”

“I don’t know,” Emma admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I just—I couldn’t stay away.”

Regina’s gaze softened, and she reached out, her fingers brushing against Emma’s once more. “You couldn’t stay away because this—us—means something. You know it does.”

Emma’s chest ached at the truth in Regina’s words, but she couldn’t bring herself to agree. She wanted to, God, she wanted to, but the weight of her responsibilities—of the life she’d built with Hook—pressed down on her like a leaden weight.

“I can’t just throw everything away,” Emma said, her voice cracking. “People are counting on me. He’s counting on me.”

Regina’s expression shifted, her vulnerability replaced by a fierce determination. “And what about you, Emma? What do you want?”

Emma’s breath hitched, the question hitting her like a physical blow. “I don’t know,” she said again, the words feeling hollow even as she spoke them.

Regina shook her head, a faint, sad smile tugging at her lips. “Yes, you do. You’ve always known. You’re just too scared to admit it.”

“I’m not scared,” Emma said, though the tremor in her voice betrayed her.

Regina stepped closer, her hand reaching up to cup Emma’s cheek again. Her touch was steady, grounding, and Emma found herself leaning into it despite the storm raging inside her.

“You don’t have to be afraid,” Regina said softly, her voice a whisper that wrapped around Emma like a balm. “Not with me.”

Emma’s resolve crumbled. Before she could think better of it, she surged forward, capturing Regina’s lips in another kiss. This one was slower, more deliberate, but no less passionate. It was filled with everything Emma had been holding back, everything she was too afraid to say aloud.

Regina responded instantly, her hands tangling in Emma’s hair as she kissed her back with equal fervor. For a moment, Emma allowed herself to get lost in it again—the taste of Regina’s lips, the warmth of her body pressed against hers.

But reality was cruel, and it didn’t let her stay in that moment for long. She broke the kiss again, her chest heaving as she took a stumbling step back.

“I can’t,” Emma said, tears welling in her eyes. “I can’t do this, Regina.”

Regina’s expression faltered, her composure slipping as the vulnerability returned. “Why not?” she asked, her voice breaking. “Because it’s easier to settle for something safe? Because you’re afraid to want more?”

“That’s not fair,” Emma snapped, though the words felt hollow even as she said them.

“Isn’t it?” Regina shot back, her voice rising. “You think I don’t know what this is? You think I don’t know what you’re feeling? I see it, Emma. Every time you look at me, I see it.”

Emma shook her head, tears spilling down her cheeks. “I don’t know what I’m feeling, okay? I don’t know how to handle this. But I can’t just… walk away from everything.”

Regina’s gaze softened, her anger fading as she stepped closer once more. “I’m not asking you to walk away, Emma. I’m asking you to choose. Choose me. Not because it’s easy, but because it’s what you want.”

Emma’s throat tightened, her vision blurring with tears. She wanted to say something, to give Regina the answer she deserved, but she couldn’t.

“I—” Emma started, but her voice broke.

Regina nodded, her jaw tightening as she stepped back, giving Emma the space she so clearly needed. “I won’t beg,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “But I won’t let you pretend this doesn’t matter, either.”

Emma didn’t respond. She couldn’t. Instead, she turned and fled, the sound of her boots echoing through the silent mansion.

Regina watched her go, the tears she’d been holding back finally spilling over as the door closed behind Emma.

The wind howled outside the mansion as Emma leaned against the closed door of the parlor, her chest rising and falling in sharp, uneven breaths. Her head swam, her heart a tangle of emotions she couldn’t untangle no matter how hard she tried. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to calm down, but the memory of Regina’s kiss—of both kisses—refused to fade.

Regina’s words echoed in her mind like a relentless drumbeat: Choose me.

Emma pressed her palms against her eyes, her heart aching as guilt and longing battled for control. She felt pulled in two directions, torn between the life she’d built with Hook and the life Regina had promised with that single, desperate plea.

She didn’t know how long she stood there, trembling and lost, but the sound of footsteps approaching snapped her out of her thoughts. She turned, half expecting to see Regina standing there, her expression guarded but her eyes full of hope.

But the hallway was empty.

Emma let out a shaky breath, her hands falling to her sides. She couldn’t stay here. Not like this. She needed air, space to think. Without another glance back, she pushed off the door and hurried down the corridor, out of the mansion and into the night.

The docks were quiet, the waves lapping gently against the pier as Emma sat on a crate, staring out at the dark water. Her hands were shoved deep into her jacket pockets, the chill of the night doing little to calm the storm inside her.

She’d thought coming here would help, that the familiar sights and sounds of the harbor would ground her. But the sea breeze only carried more questions, more doubt.

The sound of boots on the wooden planks made her tense, and she turned her head to see Killian—Hook—approaching, his dark coat billowing slightly in the wind. His expression softened when he saw her, his usual swagger tempered by concern.

“There you are, love,” he said, stopping a few feet away. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

Emma forced a smile, but it felt hollow even to her. “Sorry. I just… needed some air.”

Hook studied her for a moment, his brow furrowing. “You’ve been distant lately,” he said, his tone careful, as if he were afraid of pushing too hard. “Is everything all right?”

Emma opened her mouth to respond, but the words caught in her throat. She wanted to tell him the truth, to lay it all out and let him decide what to do with it. But the weight of it all felt too heavy, too messy to put into words.

“I’m fine,” she said instead, the lie leaving a bitter taste in her mouth.

Hook’s gaze lingered on her, doubt flickering in his eyes, but he nodded. “If you say so.”

He reached for her hand, his touch warm and steady, but Emma flinched, pulling away before she could stop herself.

Hook’s hand fell to his side, and his expression shifted, hurt flashing across his face before he masked it with a forced smile. “It’s the wedding, isn’t it? You’re nervous.”

Emma nodded quickly, latching onto the excuse like a lifeline. “Yeah. It’s just… a lot.”

Hook stepped closer, his voice softening. “You don’t have to go through this alone, Emma. Whatever’s weighing on you, I’m here. Always.”

Emma’s chest tightened, guilt twisting like a knife in her gut. He meant it—she could see it in his eyes, hear it in his voice. And yet, it wasn’t enough to quiet the voice in her head, the one that whispered Regina’s name over and over like a prayer.

“I know,” Emma said, her voice barely above a whisper. “But I need some time to figure things out. Can you give me that?”

Hook hesitated, his jaw clenching slightly, but he nodded. “Of course,” he said, though his voice was strained. “Take all the time you need.”

Emma offered him a small, grateful smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “Thank you.”

As he turned and walked away, Emma felt the ache in her chest deepen. She hated hurting him, hated the way his shoulders slumped as he disappeared into the night. But she couldn’t ignore the truth any longer.

She didn’t belong here, not with him.

***

The mansion was dark when Emma returned, the only light coming from the faint glow of the fire in the parlor. She hesitated in the doorway, her heart pounding as she saw Regina sitting by the hearth, a glass of wine in her hand.

Regina didn’t look up, her gaze fixed on the flames. “Back so soon?” she said, her voice cool but not unkind.

Emma stepped inside, her boots scuffing softly against the floor. “I couldn’t stay away.”

Regina’s lips twitched, a faint, humorless smile crossing her face. “That seems to be a pattern with you.”

Emma took a deep breath, her hands trembling as she stepped closer. “You were right,” she said, her voice breaking.

Regina finally looked up, her eyes guarded but shining with a faint glimmer of hope. “About what?”

“About everything,” Emma admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “About me, about him, about… us.”

Regina set her glass down, standing slowly. “What are you saying, Emma?”

Emma swallowed hard, her heart pounding as she met Regina’s gaze. “I’m saying that I choose you,” she said, her voice trembling. “Not because it’s easy, or because it makes sense, but because it’s what I want.”

Regina’s breath hitched, her eyes wide as she stared at Emma. “Do you mean that?”

Emma nodded, tears streaming down her cheeks as she stepped closer. “I’ve been running from this for so long, and I’m tired of running. I don’t want to live a life that’s safe or expected. I want you.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and raw, and for a moment, neither of them moved. Then Regina closed the distance between them, her hands cupping Emma’s face as she kissed her deeply, passionately, pouring every ounce of emotion into the kiss.

Emma melted into it, her arms wrapping around Regina as the world faded away. This was where she belonged—here, in Regina’s arms, in this moment that felt more real than anything she’d ever known.

When they finally broke apart, Regina rested her forehead against Emma’s, her breath coming in soft, uneven gasps. “You don’t know how long I’ve waited to hear you say that,” she whispered.

Emma smiled through her tears, her heart full for the first time in what felt like forever. “I think I do,” she said softly.

And for the first time, she felt free.

#swanqueen #emma x regina #ouat ff #swan queen ff #one shot #fanfiction #emma swan #regina mills

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overlordofthelollipopguild · 7 months ago

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BROKEN SOULS MEND HEARTS

UPDATE

#captain swan #cs ff #bsmh #lmao #yallbeenwaitingforthisone #fanfiction #ouat #ouat ff

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kazoosandfannypacks · 4 months ago

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Just a little ficlet I came up with to celebrate Christmas! And yes, all of the information mentioned in this fic is truthful to the best of my knowledge! [now on ao3!]

taglist: @accidental-spice @kanerallels @ouatnextgen @booksteaandtoomuchtv

"Um, actually..."

"Uh oh," Hope said with a smile as she walked across the room to her boyfriend.

"Something wrong?" Gideon asked.

"Not at all," Hope rested her elbow on his shoulder, despite how much taller he was. "You're under the mistletoe."

"Yeah?"

"So that means I have to kiss you." Hope said, booping his nose with her finger. "You know how those silly little traditions are."

"Not really," Gideon said. "In actuality, the earliest roots of the tradition only related to ladies standing under the mistletoe. There's no historical record of if anything happens at all if a gentleman does."

"You're really killing the moment here, Gid."

"And also, the tradition didn't even require the men to kiss women who found themsleves under the mistletoe, it just said the women aren't allowed to refuse if they do choose to kiss them."

Apparently, the time-honored Christmas tradition of using a decorative plant as an excuse to do something you wouldn't mind doing anyways was no match for the time-honored Gideon tradition of frustrating Hope's coquette advances with oblivious intelligence. This one needed a more direct approach.

"Well, would you refuse if I chose to kiss you, Gid?" She asked, with a playful batting of the eyes.

"Of course not." Gideon said, then looked down at her with a surprised smile. "Are you gonna kiss me, Hope?"

"If it'll get you to stop ruining perfectly fine holiday traditions with all your stupid facts."

"Well in that case," Gideon smiled in his own understanding of the assignment, "did you know that, despite being widely regarded as one of the most beloved Christmas carols, Joy to the World is not actually about Christmas?"

"Yeah," Hope said, stepping up on tiptoes so her nose brushed against his, "ones like that."

He leaned down just a bit, closing the distance between their lips and sealing it with a kiss.

Hope pulled away and saw a smug smile on Gideon's face.

"Jingle bells isn't technically a Christmas Carol either." He said. "It's about Thanksgiving."

Though Gideon didn't always get her hints, she understood his perfectly, and gave him another quick peck on the lips.

"You know," Gideon said, "by definition, a carol is a song where the choruses are sung in Latin, but the verses...."

Hope sighed and rolled her eyes. As much as she loved his rambling, she loved stopping him from rambling all the more, and her preferred method of doing so: she grabbed his collar and interrupted him, not with words, but with another kiss, this time one that lasted a little bit longer.

#kazzy writes #a kazzy little christmas #cygnet scholar #ouat #once upon a time #once upon a time season 7 #hope swan jones #gideon gold #ouat s7 rewrite fodder #otp: maybe you need some normal friends #fanfic #fanfiction #cw kissing #mistletoe #ouat ff #christmas #kazzy writes cygnet scholar oneshots

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snowbellewells · 1 year ago

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CS Fic Rec Monday: "High Scores, Exes, and Neon Lights" by: @xarandomdreamx

I have been slacking and not having the chance to do Monday recs the way I would like, but this week I have some for you that I have recently enjoyed.

This first fic is a modern AU in three parts, featuring not only Emma and Killian, but a whole crew of their friends and loved ones - including a Liam who is alive and well. He and Killian own a bar where, when Emma and her friends turn up, things in the Jones brothers' lives are turned upside down in the very best of ways. I had the pleasure of beta-reading this as well as just enjoying it as a reader, and I loved seeing it as it grew and developed. It had moments of laughter, heartache, sweetness and feels - everything rolled into one. Don't miss it!!

I also took the liberty of attempting to make cover art for your lovely story @xarandomdreamx! I hope you'll like it:

Read it here: "High Scores, Exes, & Neon Lights" by: @xarandomdreamx

#cs fic rec monday #csfrm #cs three shot #modern au ff #high scores exes and neon lights #such a talented shipmate #ouat ff #cs ff

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wavesketcher-sq · 11 months ago

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Kintsugi (ft Regina immediately after the curse breaks)

Regina wakes to the cold light of the Sheriff’s station - and the cold light of Snow White’s gaze.

“Have you come to gloat?” she hisses, though it falls to the floor of the jail cell as a defeated croak.

“No, I actually feel sorry for you.”

“So noble,” Regina says dryly.

Snow cocks her head to one side. “Or honest.”

“What’s the grand Charming plan then?” Regina studies her through the bars. “Parade me through town, then execute me under the clock tower? Pierce me with one of your quaint little arrows?”

She’s not sure where she’s finding the energy to provoke the Princess. Maybe it’s not energy at all - maybe it’s just defeat, forcing it’s way out of her in a final, pathetic battle cry.

She is numb.

Emma has taken Henry and she is numb.

Snow sighs. “I’ve never had the same thirst for revenge that you do, Regina. It looks exhausting.”

“What then?”

And Snow takes a step forward. She lifts an iron key out of her pocket and, to Regina’s confusion, twists it in the lock. “This is your kingdom, Your Majesty,” she says, letting the door swing open with a clang, “Reign over it.”

Regina doesn’t dare move. She stands in the doorway and watches the Princess exit the room. She assumes it must be a trap, that stepping forward will detonate a bomb and she’ll explode into a million pieces of disparate love, without ever getting the chance to rebuild into a mother.

But Emma has taken Henry. She watched them drive away - as Whale pinned her arms behind her back and handcuffed her, as the dwarves jeered and spat at her shoes - she watched them drive away and now she is numb.

Eventually, Regina decides that death via explosion would at least be instantaneous so she takes a step. Then another. And another.

Then she walks out of the Sheriff’s station and into harsh, but warm, sunlight.

What she observes is emptiness. There is Granny’s and the library and the Town Hall and every other building she designed but it’s all empty. There is not a soul.

Until -

The familiar clack, clack of a cane on concrete makes her spin to her left.

Rumple's mouth twists. "That went well."

Regina strides towards him, fury consuming her like a fresh curse. “Where the hell is everyone?”

He laughs. “This was their prison, dearie. They were hardly going to stay.”

She is desperate now, standing here, in the embers of the town she built, desperate enough to say, “And where are you going?” as though she wants him to stay with her.

“Where I’ve been waiting to go for twenty-eight years.”

Her head spins. “You can’t just leave!” she shouts after his limping form, and he laughs again. A cold, pitying sound.

She whirls around, staring at the clock and its ticking time, a scream building in her throat. There is nothing left. There is nothing left of her.

Emma has taken Henry and she is nothing.

Regina sinks down on to the warm tarmac, streaked with the tire tracks of fleeing citizens, and stays there, for hours.

Read Full Chapter Here

#swan queen #swanqueen #swen #swan queen fanfiction #emma x regina #regina mills #sq fanfic #emma swan #ouat fanfiction #ouat ff #ouat fic #sq fic

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grilledcheeseandguavajelly · 1 year ago

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It’s the way I was going to post my “wildest dreams” swanqueen headcanon/fic-thing today to celebrate the 1989 TV release and then completely chickened out 🙈

#swan queen #emma swan #regina mills #once upon a time #ouat #ouat fic #swanqueen fanfiction #sq ff #taylor swift #1989 taylor's version #ouat fanfiction #once upon a time fanfiction #ouat ff

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daggzandarrowsnew · 2 years ago

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Clearing out my drafts - this one was started from a prompt on my original Daggzandarrows Tumblr account (which I stupidly deactivated *cries in soooo many lost fics*)

“Baby Peanut’s magic”

————

“If we suppress it, it will only hurt her in the long run.” Regina explained, her patience running thin because they'd talked about this for so long now and, as much as she loved Robin, he just wasn’t getting it. “She needs to learn to control it now, while she's young lest she lose control and, god forbid, kill someone.”

“She wouldn't.”

“Not on purpose, Robin,” she amended on a tired sigh. The kids were due home soon and the chance to speak so openly with him was quickly dwindling. “You know her temper. At least if she understood what it was, she'd be prepared.”

He shook his head, still pacing in front of the window as she watched from her place on the sofa. “I just…” he sighed, rubbing a hand over his face, “I don't want her to turn out like-”

“Like me?” It stung, penetrated deep and flooded her veins like acid.

His pace slowed as he turned his head to look at her, a look of horror on his face, “What? No! That's not-”

“Magic is in her blood just as it is mine, Robin. Regardless of who birthed her, Mills’ blood runs through her veins. You cannot condone my magic yet condemn Zelena’s because they are one and the same.”

“Regina, I-”

“If you'll excuse me,” she interrupted briskly, swallowing thickly as tears glistened in eyes that wouldn't lift to look at him, “I need to make a start on dinner.”

————

“Is Mom sick?” Henry frowned as he watched Regina walk from the room, the plate of food in her hands barely touched unlike the children's empty plates she’d stacked beneath her own.

Robin swallowed guiltily, his own food inedible with the way his stomach was knotted. She'd barely looked at him since before dinner and had immersed herself in the children when they'd bounded through the front door, full of joy and caked in dirt having spent the afternoon in the forest with Robin’s men.

He felt awful.

“I think she's just a little tired, Henry.”

“She looks sad,” Scarlett frowned worriedly with eyes still on the door through which her mother had walked, “do you think she'd like a hug, Daddy?”

He couldn't help but smile with absolute affection at his daughter’s words, nodding his head as he replied, “I think she'd love that, darling.”

————

Her shoulders shook with her silent sobs as she pressed her face harder against her legs, wrapping her arms tighter around her knees and berating herself for getting so worked up over something she knew Robin hadn't meant.

He loved her, loved every single part of her - he'd spent many years now reaffirming that belief in her - and she knew that included her magic, he was just worried that it would corrupt their girl like it had done Zelena and Regina both and his fear wasn’t irrational...it was just unnecessary.

He didn’t understand how frightened Scarlett would be should she feel that first surge of power without knowledge of what it was or where it came from. There’d been many a night in which Regina had stood watching in the doorway of their daughter’s room as her dreams had been magically projected onto the ceiling, chuckling softly as her teddy bears had danced about the room in a way that had been strangely elegant.

It was beautiful, their daughter’s magic, but it could change and Regina wanted her to be prepared for that in a way that she herself hadn’t been.

There was a tug on her fingers that startled her, eyes wide as she lifted her head to blink wetly at the very person she'd been thinking of staring concernedly back at her.

“Why are you crying, Mama?”

She’d inherited magic from Regina’s side of the family but had most certainly inherited Robin’s ability to move silently when he wanted to. “Oh, I just stubbed my toe, sweetheart,” she replied and she hated lying but this was not something she was ready to discuss with their daughter yet, not until she and Robin were agreed on the best course of action. “It really stung.”

Eyes as blue as her father’s but as expressive as her own blinked back at her, a shadow of suspicion there as Scarlett looked to her bare feet and back again.

She changed the subject - or at least her daughter’s train of thought - by holding out her arms to Scarlett and asking, “Can Mama have a hug? It’ll make me feel much better.” And that was no lie.

Dimples dented chubby little cheeks as Scarlett nodded and reached arms up towards Regina, giggling wildly when she tickled at her sides as she lifted her onto the bed and placed her in the gap between legs now crossed, folding her arms tight around her daughter’s waist as small arms wrapped around her neck in turn.

Regina threaded her fingers through strawberry blonde curls and held Scarlett’s face to her neck as she cried quietly, trying to keep her shaking to a minimum. Their daughter was good in spite of her conception. Inherently good and that wasn’t only because of Robin but because of her too. She knew that even on her worst days.

They’d raised her in the right way - Zelena’s visits were still supervised even now and they’d never heard anything to be cautious of but it would remain that way lest she even dare think she could corrupt the goodness in Scarlett’s heart - but Regina knew the lure of dark magic. Knew how it could whisper in your ear and wrap around your heart.

It was a chance they weren’t willing to take where Zelena was concerned despite Regina’s own desire for a change in her sister much like her own. There was simply too much to lose.

“Can I sleep with you tonight, Mama?”

Her heart ached in her chest as she stroked her fingers through Scarlett’s hair and nodded, “Of course you can, my darling.”

————

She wasn’t sure of the time nor how long she’d been asleep but when she blinked open heavy eyes, she found Robin to be sitting in the armchair in the corner of the room watching them sleep. He looked exhausted and completely guilt-stricken. It was automatic and instinctual for her to lift a hand from Scarlett’s back and hold it out to him.

Robin didn’t hesitate to cross the small distance to the bed and slip carefully beneath the covers, instantly leaning up and over their daughter to press a kiss to Regina’s lips. “I am so sorry, my love.”

Regina shushed him gently, accepting another lingering kiss from him before she lay her head back down onto the pillow and watched as he did the same after dropping a kiss into Scarlett’s sleep-mussed curls. They lay in silence for a long moment, just soaking in the tiny child in their arms and the joy she brought to all of their lives much like her brothers before her. A child not born of Regina, much like the other two, but just as embedded in her heart.

“She may be Mills by blood,” Regina began quietly, shushing him gently when he moved to apologise, to tell her he hadn’t meant that. “But she’s also a Locksley by heart and soul. She’s so good, Robin. Much of the darkness in both Zelena and myself was out there by years of neglect. We chased that with a need to be loved by people who didn’t have the capacity to and that in turn bred abuse and an acceptance that that was what we deserved…until we couldn’t stand it anymore.”

“That dark path was a choice both Zelena and I took. I was simply lucky enough to find people to pull me back from that, to make me realise that there was so much more for me to find in the light.” She pressed a kiss to Scarlett’s temple when the girl snuggled deeper into her hole without waking before continuing. “One day Zelena might realise that too - maybe she’s already leaning that way, only time will tell…but Scarlett will never have to wonder if she is loved because we show her everyday. She will never feel alone because she has a whole army of people behind her. And she will never feel scared because we are going to tell her the truth.”

“Within reason,” Robin laughed softly, and she breathed a laugh in return because yes, some things she didn’t need to know just yet. But others…

“I suspect she already knows she can do special things or at least sense it, I began to suspect at her age,” she smiled down at the angelic features so relaxed in sleep, reminded of Henry at that age and Roland too, not yet aware of how dangerous or scary the world could be. “I just don’t want her to fear what is a part of her. I don’t want her to resent her magic, not when we can prepare her for it, when I can teach her to wield it properly.”

“I know,” Robin moved forward to capture her lips in a kiss that said so much more than he could. It was full of apology, of compassion and of promise. She was not alone. He stayed close when he allowed the kiss to break, stroking a hair through Scarlett’s curls. “I don’t want her scared either. I want her to feel confident in who she is, to know she can be whoever she wants to and we’ll always be there to catch her if she falls…it’s just…”

“Scary?”

He nodded, relief colouring his features that he was finally communicating what he’d been trying to say earlier. “I have absolutely no doubt that you will keep her safe, Regina. I trust you implicitly.”

She smiled tenderly at him, eyes moving over his face for a long moment before she admitted, “It scares the hell out of me too, Robin…” and then, “but the thought of Scarlett disliking or even fearing any part of herself scares me more.”

Robin leaned in once more to press a kiss to her forehead, cupping the back of her head as he moved in closer to hold his two favourite girls as he pressed his forehead to her own and promised, “Then her lessons start tomorrow. Let’s show our daughter another of the beautiful things about herself to love.”

And with those words, another dark shadow began to fade from Regina’s bruised heart as she closed her eyes and cuddled close to her family. Her world.

#ouat #regina mills #outlaw queen #oq ff #once upon a time #oq au #robin hood #daggzandarrows #ouat ff #outlaw queen prompt

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cosette141 · 2 years ago

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Lost and Found | OUAT fanfic | Chapter 13

Fandom: Once Upon A Time

Author: cosette141

Words: 74k total | 5k (this chapter)

Summary: (Begin Again sequel) Emma had felt lost nearly her whole life, and Killian had lost everything he’d ever found. That is, until they found each other. With the Crocodile dead and Cora turned good, it seems happy endings have returned. However, new crises arise, threatening the budding family between them and Henry. But this is a family that always finds each other… and they have yet to fail. CS, Anti-Neal

AO3

Chapter 13 (under the cut!)

Walking out of Skull Rock was like walking into a brand new world.

Because it was no longer night.

The sky was bright blue, the shine of the sun casting warmth over the island that had felt so cold in so many ways. Seeing it in this light, it was the first time Emma actually saw beauty in the land.

Half the Lost Boys went off to get the flint they needed, and presumably to retrieve anything or any of their brothers that were still about the island. Two Boys stayed with Emma, Killian and her parents, watching them warily, like they still didn't know if they'd be left behind, no matter how many times Mary Margaret turned around to assure them they wouldn't be, her gaze always lingering on Emma, like the words were for her as much as for them.

Emma, Mary Margaret and David were still quite lost on where the ship was, but Killian seemed to know exactly where Neal had docked the ship. He led them, his hand tightly in Emma's, in a way Emma didn't think he would ever release.

Which was perfectly fine with her.

Emma could feel Killian's tension, a slight urgency in his pace, and she felt the same. She couldn't wait to get the hell of this island, Pan or no Pan. She just wanted to be back home with him, her parents and with Henry, whom she missed so badly it hurt.

They made it to the ship within an hour, and if not for the adrenaline still running through her, Emma would have collapsed from the exhaustion of both the hike and the past few days. Only minutes afterward, footsteps pounded up the gangplank, revealing the now-bigger group of Lost Boys who were severely out of breath.

"I got the flint," said the Boy who had spoken up in the caves. He hesitantly gave it to Killian, fingers shaking.

Killian smiled tiredly, visibly reluctant to remove his hand from Emma's to take it. Emma's hand felt instantly empty, and her fingers found his jacket, and if she wasn't mistaken, there was an ease in his face when he felt her grab it. Taking the flit from the boy, Killian said, "Aye, brilliant job, Slightly."

The Boy—Slightly—raised his brows in surprise at hearing Killian speak his name. But, a little delayed, the boy smiled.

"Would you and your brothers mind helping me with the gangplank and the sails?" asked Killian. He was given a nod, and the boys ran off to complete the tasks, looking like they were as eager to get off the island as Emma was.

Killian took a breath, then bent with a hiss, his hooked arm moving quickly to hug his ribs.

"Killian?" asked Emma reflexively, her other hand moving to help, but he gave her a winced smile, and used the flint to draw what looked like his own outline with the flint. And with a gasp, Emma watched his Shadow appear, separating from him. It was his own silhouette, even complete with the shadow of his hook.

"You know where to take us," said Killian to the Shadow, who nodded, and Emma could only watch in shocked awe. Killian's Shadow flew to the mast, hand and hook latching under one of the wooden rods and lifted. The ship was pulled out of the water, making Emma grab one the side of the ship with her free hand to steady herself, her parents and the boys doing the same. But soon, the ship had leveled off in the sky, and Emma would still never get quite used to the awe of magic.

"We should be back in Storybrooke within the span of a day," said Killian, who was still on one knee after removing his Shadow. He moved to stand, only to cringe sharply, groaning, a hand grasping at his ribs.

"Killian—" said Emma, quickly wrapping an arm around him, helping him stand. Huffing out a concerned, yet exasperated breath, she admonished gently, "I knew I should have just healed you back in the caves."

"I am in no danger other than comfort, love," said Killian, giving her a winced grin for good measure.

Emma didn't smile back. "Yeah, well that's what I was afraid of." She started to pull him to go below deck. "Let's go. I'm healing you now whether you like it or not."

"As you wish," said Killian, with a soft smile. "However, someone needs to keep an eye on the ship."

"I can do it," chimed in David. "Go rest, Hook." he said, with a touch of both exasperation and fondness, and Emma still couldn't believe that only days ago, David was punching Killian across the jaw and threatening to kill him.

It was still crazy to her how so much could change in such a small amount of time.

And even crazier that it all had changed for the better. Something that she was definitely not used to in her life

Namely, the most important of them being the man pressed to her side, whose jacket was still tightly clutched in her fingers.

Killian inclined his head, genuinely saying, "Thank you." Then, he cleared his throat, looking at both him and Mary Margaret. "Thank you both for aiding Emma in coming to rescue me," he said heavily, inclining his head. "I am highly in your debt."

Mary Margaret smiled. "After everything you've done for Emma, and for us, it's us who are in yours. You were only here because you saved Henry, after all," said Mary Margaret, tears in her eyes, making Emma's own sting, and her hold Killian a little tighter.

Killian, seeming unable to find words, nodded his thanks for the gratitude.

Leaving Mary Maragert and David to the helm, Killian's only instruction was to alert him when they saw the town, and that it would be a few hours before they did.

Emma helped Killian to his cabin, his pace far slower than it had been on the hike back to the ship, and Emma suddenly realized that his tension and stiffness earlier had been far less about urgency, and far more about hiding his pain.

She felt her own pained exasperation at the realization.

They reached his cabin, and Emma helped him lean against the pillows on his bed. The moment he did, he hissed sharply through his teeth, the knuckles of his hand even whiter than before, where he clutched his vest over his ribs, only proving more and more just how much he'd been trying to keep it to himself. Killian's eyes opened, breathing out, looking like he was finally experiencing some relief being off his feet. "I'm all right, love," he promised at her worried gaze.

"You should have just let me heal you," she chastised gently again, sitting down carefully on the bed next to him.

"You've done that enough, believe me," he said, voice soft, grateful, and like it was the last thing he wanted to ask more of.

Emma shook her head with an exasperated sigh, but smiled at him anyway. She started to pull the bottom of his shirt up to heal him, hoping her magic would work on command again, when a gentle hand suddenly touched her face, making her look at Killian. When she did, his eyes were on hers, the blue in his eyes vivid and strong. He gently pulled her toward him, meeting her lips, and Emma felt her eyes shut, felt the relief of a kiss that wasn't fueled by desperation. Her hand found his neck, fingers tousling in his hair, meeting his tenderness in the quiet moment.

It was the opposite of their kiss before going to face Pan; a kiss that had been fearful and passionate, a promise that it would happen again.

This was soft, it was slow, it was the fulfillment of that promise.

They pulled apart simultaneously, and Emma opened her eyes, surprised to find that a tear had fallen down her cheek, and even more surprised to find his eyes misty as well.

They both watched each other in the quiet, just reveling in the moment for what it was. They were here, safe, together.

Killian's thumb brushed away the tear on Emma's cheek, smiling at her, and Emma has never, not once, ever felt a softness like this—like him—before.

But Emma suddenly remembered he was hurt. "Will you please let me heal you now?" she asked with a smile, brushing her thumb across his cheek.

"I feel entirely healed already," he responded just as softly, and Emma didn't even detect a lie in those blue eyes. "However, if you insist."

She smiled, sitting up and lifting his shirt to display the dark bruising across his abdomen, making her brows crease. She lifted her hands, about to try to pull forth her magic, when she caught his expression, almost like he realized something that amused him.

"What?" asked Emma, pausing.

"I believe," said Killian, "that we have done this before, love." He smiled, though the amusement with the irony faded as his hand reached up to brush the back of his fingers over her forehead, and Emma knew it had been where Gold had given her the concussion in New York. Emma blinked, seeing him lying on his bed and herself perched beside him, realizing they were their own mirror of themselves from that moment she woke up on his ship.

"I much prefer it like this," said Killian softly, brows creased, like he was remembering when the skin he'd brushed over had been as broken as both of them had been, before they found home in each other.

Though warmth trickled through her skin from his touch, Emma didn't smile, remembering seeing him crumpled on the ground in the caves, imagining the worst. "Well, I don't." She gently touched her palms to his skin, whispering an apology when he jerked a little at the tender injury, and she shut her eyes, imagining him healed.

Her magic came at her wish, and she smiled as she felt it flow through her, opening her eyes to watch the white glow touch his skin over the bruising. Killian's eyes shut, lines of pain receding from his face as the bruising faded from black to blue to his unharmed, tanned skin.

And not a moment after the glow faded, his injury healed, his arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her into him. He held her tightly to him, like it was something he had waited centuries to do, and Emma melted into his chest, shutting her eyes to the feel of his embrace.

Killian.

Emma felt another set of tears touch her closed eyes, her fingers finding his coat like they always seemed to, breathing in his scent, reveling in the movement of his chest, and the heartbeat beneath it.

She remembered like it was both yesterday and years ago, kneeling on the docks next to Henry, seeing the blood and imagining the worst. Feeling like it was a break her heart wouldn't survive.

But he was okay.

He was here, she was safely in his arms, and he was okay.

"Thank you, Emma."

His voice was rough like a ship that had finally passed into the eye of a storm, weathered but in reprieve. Damaged but still whole. Fearful, but safe.

Emma smiled against his chest. "You don't have to thank me for healing you," she said softly. "To be honest, I think I wanted it more than you did," she joked.

She felt his smile, and somehow knew it was strained. "Aye, of course, thank you for healing me," he said, and she felt his thumb brush her shoulder. "However… I meant…" His voice hitched a little, and Emma felt his heart stutter in his chest. "Thank you for… coming to Neverland," he said, voice so quiet, covered in disbelief like a forgotten room in dust. His arms around her tightened, this time a little less out of protection and care, and a little more out of fear. "Thank you for saving me, Emma," he whispered.

Emma lifted herself a little off his chest to turn to see his face, and he reluctantly loosened his hold on her a little to let her. She was startled to find a tear had fallen down his cheek.

Feeling so acutely aware of where they were, of the moment she'd woken up on his bed to concerned blue eyes, Emma smiled something broken and whole. "Thank you for saving me," she whispered.

She could still remember it, could still remember the pain, the fear, and seeing him knelt beside her in that apartment in New York.

In that moment, she'd been afraid of Killian. Or, rather, of Hook.

It was one of the most vulnerable moments of her life, and the most broken she's ever been.

He didn't have to save her.

He could have killed Gold and left her.

But instead, he killed his crocodile for her, and stayed to pick up her pieces, to put her back together again.

She'd broken in that moment, all at once, shattering like glass, and she could still feel him grab her, pull her into his arms, his embrace feeling like it was both foreign and like home.

"Don't leave."

"I promise you, Emma. I am not going anywhere."

And here he was, still here, still with her, keeping that promise as safe and whole as she felt here now, with him.

She went from being afraid of him, to being afraid to be without him.

From meeting his lie that day in the Enchanted Forest, to lying with his truth each night.

She went from just surviving her life, suffocating beneath her walls, to finding a reason to truly live, and it was him.

He not only saved her life; he brought her to life.

And somehow, she did the same for him.

Everything changed in one moment, in that apartment in New York.

The moment that Emma thought would be her last, became the moment her life truly began.

Killian's hand suddenly settled at her cheek, thumb below her ear, stroking her skin, and she nearly shut her eyes to the feeling. Part of his gaze seemed far away, and somehow Emma knew he was reminiscing their history, that day, just like she was. "That moment with you," he said softly, his thumb stilling just as Emma's heart did. A million emotions raced through his gaze, settling on relief. "Saving you," he said even softer, his own words making him smile a little, like it was his greatest achievement. "Everything we've… Emma, you…" The blue in his eyes was so vibrant, hidden behind nothing, a warmth elicited solely by her. "I've never felt anything like us before," he whispered.

Emma felt a soft emotion touch her heart. And with words her walls would have stopped her from saying in the past, she said, "Neither have I."

His gaze lingered on hers, so strongly, some emotion Emma couldn't place filling the blue like rays of sun through the clearest sea. He suddenly looked like he wanted to say something, something that skipped his heart and stilled his chest. Something that would put to words the look in his eyes as he watched her.

But a sliver of hesitation crossed that sea, like a cloud casting a shadow. He swallowed, seeming to alter the words he had wanted to say. "I am honored to have you, Emma Swan," he whispered, his thumb brushing across her cheek.

Emma felt tears touch her eyes, her hand finding his face to kiss him again, shutting her eyes with the overwhelming elatedness of hearing someone truly, purely want her.

"No more than I am to have you," she responded just as honestly.

He smiled, and kissed her again, both of them getting lost in it, in each other, the only kind of lost that has ever made her feel more found.

When they pulled apart, eyes on each other, Emma smiled.

She settled herself on his chest, her head on his shoulder, feeling the exhaustion from the past few days mix with the relief of it being over, and she shut her eyes, breathing out a sigh. His arm curled around her back, pulling her into him as he settled himself against his pillows, and somehow she knew his eyes were still on her.

He was here, his rising chest and beating heart proof he was safe, alive, with her.

They were safe.

They were together.

And though they weren't yet back in Storybrooke, they were home.

-.-.-.-.-.

Storybrooke.

Killian smiled when the little town came into view from where he stood at the helm, again still not believing that he would ever see this place again. He was still quite unable to believe he was even alive. The last time he was here, he was bleeding out on the docks to the sound of Henry's panic and anguish, fully believing that he would never see the boy—or Emma—ever again.

He still couldn't believe that all three of them were safe and unharmed.

But he needed to see for himself that Henry was unharmed before he could let himself finally relax.

And Killian knew Emma felt the same, if not even more so.

She was stood at his side, where she remained the past several hours of the journey. Some time ago they joined her parents and the Lost Boys on deck, Killian assuming his place at the helm, taking the responsibility from David.

Emma's hand was still in his, like it has been this whole time, and where Killian hoped it would stay forever.

By the time they touched down in the water, Killian wrapping his arm around Emma to keep her steady, he could feel how fast her heart was pounding, could see the relief and excitement in her eyes of being back, and of whom he knew was waiting for her.

Henry.

The Lost Boys worked to lower the gangplank, and Killian dropped anchor, securing the ship in place, feeling like securing himself all the same.

Half of Storybrooke was outside, crowded at the docks by the time the gangplank was released on the docks. Hoots, whistles and cheers erupted from the docks where a crowd stood, seemingly having seen the ship's arrival through the sky.

Filled with as much eagerness and desperation as she'd had when she found him in Neverland, Emma pulled Killian with her, nearly running once the gangplank was lowered—

—only for footsteps fueled by just as much desperation ran up the gangplank, as if they'd been waiting years to do so, pounding up the wood panels to reveal—

Henry.

Henry's head turned wildly, seeing David and Mary Margaret first, to whom he gave a quick relieved smile, until he turned his head again, to see Emma.

The boy's eyes widened, and his expression was the epitome of relief.

"Mom!" cried Henry, racing toward her, and Killian felt himself smile, easing a breath of relief, the last of his tension leaving him at seeing the boy all right.

"Henry!" cried Emma, releasing Killian's hand to meet her son halfway.

Henry crashed into his mother, and Emma embraced her boy, sinking down to her knees on the deck, tears falling down her cheeks, mirroring Henry's own. Killian felt his own smile grow, tears touching his eyes at the amount of love radiating from them. He caught David's and Mary Margaret's tearful expressions as they watched, lingering a moment before deboarding the ship with the Lost Boys, like they wanted to offer Henry and Emma their moment alone.

"Mom," choked out Henry from Emma's arms, eyes shut, tears falling beneath his lashes. "You're okay!" he breathed over her shoulder, his voice a half-hiccup, half-sob.

"Yeah, kid," said Emma, voice choked, and she smiled, shutting her eyes as she held him, so tight, like she never ever planned to let him go, and Henry her. Killian watched them both, another breath of relief eased from his own chest, feeling the same sense of relief he had back in New York, when he knew the Crocodile was dead, and Emma was alive and safe.

But Henry's eyes snapped open and he pulled sharply back from Emma. His eyes were wide with panic, gasping out, "Where's—?!"

The sheer fear in the boy's eyes, at the thought he wasn't there, made Killian's breath catch.

But Emma just smiled, another tear falling down her cheek, and she looked over her shoulder, where Killian was standing.

And Henry's desperate gaze followed hers, and he saw Killian.

His eyes widened.

For a moment, the boy looked frozen with awe.

And not a second later, Henry was crashing into his own arms.

For the first time, Killian was ready for it, catching him and pulling him to his chest, feeling Henry's face bury in his chest, his little hands crumpling his jacket in his fingers, clinging onto him just as tight as Emma had when she'd found him in Neverland.

"You're okay," said Henry into his chest, his voice just as fragile and relieved as he'd said them to Emma, and Killian didn't know how he deserved either of them.

"Aye, lad," said Killian, smiling. "I'm all right."

Henry pulled back, and Killian was surprised to see him hastily wipe tears from his face with the back of his hand, his other still not letting go of the front of Killian's coat.

"I was so sc-cared," stammered Henry, more tears falling to replace the ones he wiped away, making Killian's heart twist in his chest for being the cause of his pain, no matter how little choice he had. "I th-thought I'd n-never see you again," he whispered, his voice hiccuping again.

Killian felt both an agony and a warmth at Henry's words, not even able to comprehend how he managed to endear himself so much to the boy, but so grateful he had.

"And I you," admitted Killian softly, a tear falling down his own cheek, clear liquid pain that hurt far more than any crimson that had ever painted his skin. "But as I keep telling your mother," he said softly, smiling, "I'm a survivor."

Henry smiled too, something between a laugh and a hiccup, throwing his arms around Killian's neck again, hugging him almost too tight for Killian to breathe. But for Killian, it was hardly tight enough.

But after a moment, he felt Henry tense, and he pulled back from Killian, only tightening his hold on him when asking fretfully, "Wh-what about… about Pan?"

Emma knelt at Henry's side, wiping a tear from her face. "He's gone," said Emma, firmly and surely, like she was telling herself the fact all the same.

"He is?" asked Henry, so much hope in his eyes.

"Gone," said Killian, wiping away Henry's fresh tears with his thumb. "Pan is defeated and gone," assured Killian again. "You're safe. We all are," he said, those words filling him with more relief than he could say.

Henry let out a breath of his own relief, smiling again, and Emma and Killian mirrored it, like they were Henry's emotional reflection.

But Henry looked around again, a little bit of that tension still in his body, and he asked, "Where's… um…" he trailed off, looking around with unease, like he didn't know if he wanted to see who he was looking for or not.

And Killian, as well as Emma, by the fade of her smile and the tightness of her muscles, knew who he was referring to.

Baelfire.

A flit of pain, of guilt, of regret, of the past snuck into Killian's chest and burned, Bae's death still raw, like a bleeding wound.

Killian turned to Emma, hesitating, seeing pain in her eyes as well. A different pain from his, but just as deep.

Emma bit her lip, like she both didn't know what to say, or she didn't have the courage to say it. Wishing he had two hands, Killian rested his hook gently over her thigh where she was kneeling, watching some of the pain in her eyes recede when he did, his own when her fingers curled around the metal appendage.

"Your…" began Emma, hesitating on the title. "Neal," she amended, "he…" Her voice trailed off again.

But Henry, ever-perceptive, seemed to get where she was going with it, and Killian felt him still, where his hand was still on the lad's shoulder. "He's…?" whispered Henry, trailing off himself, but the unsaid word loud and clear, and enough to make Emma flinch a little at his side.

A tear fell down Emma's face, just as a chill ran down Killian's spine. But Emma smiled, despite another tear falling down her cheek. "He helped us save Killian," she whispered, glancing at him, the gratefulness shining in her eyes like light off diamond. "He…" Emma took a breath. "He took a poisoned arrow that was meant to hit Killian," her voice stuttered with the fear of the moment, just as Killian's heart did in his chest. "He pushed him out of the way," Emma went on, "and he saved his life, by sacrificing himself." Another tear fell. "It's because of Neal that we were able to come home to you," she said softly.

Henry stared at her, tears gathered in his eyes, so much shock in them, and such confusion, such mixed emotions that looked like a sea storm that no ship could survive.

Emma's hand gently touched Henry's cheek, holding his face, brushing away a tear that fell. "Earlier," she said gently, "you said… you liked it better when you thought your father was a firefighting hero." She smiled a little, despite the weather in her own eyes. "He wasn't a firefighter," she said. "But he was a hero." Another tear fell down her cheek. "He loved you Henry." She looked at Killian then, smiling something broken and whole. "He loved all of us."

Warmth filled the cracks in his heart at her words, and Killian felt his own sadness trail hotly down his skin.

Henry was quiet for a long moment, as if trying to sail those rough seas, to navigate his shock, his sadness, and most of all, his confusion seemingly of what to feel for the man he had never known, the father he had only rejected, however rightfully so in the moment.

But he swallowed, then he took a few steps toward the edge of the ship, looking out at the sky. And it was almost as if the floating clouds passing by slowed, as if to listen.

"Thanks, Dad," said Henry softly, as even the waves calmed to hear his words, like it wasn't only the sea and the sky that was listening to them. And turning back to Killian, Henry smiled, finishing, "For saving my dad."

Killian froze.

He heard a small gasp at his side from Emma, as the breath knocked straight from his own lungs.

Dad.

He felt tears sting his eyes.

And it was the first time, it was Killian who pulled Henry into an embrace, once that Henry returned just as tightly. A tear slipped down Killian's cheek.

"Dad," whispered Henry over his shoulder, with a touch of pain and relief, like the pain of never being able to use the word before, and the relief that he finally could.

"Aye, my boy," Killian whispered, confirmed, promised, only holding him tighter. He shut his eyes, his own arms around the boy, his boy, the two words flitting softly through his mind, feeling so similar to Emma's healing magic to his injuries.

Henry chose him.

Chose him.

It was an honor Killian didn't know how he deserved, and would guard with his life.

Killian's acceptance only made Henry's arms curl around him tighter.

Pulling back a little, Henry smiled at Killian's stunned, touched expression. "I have two moms," he said with a giggle. "It only makes sense that I have two dads, too."

Killian laughed, pulling the boy into him again, Killian holding him tight, another tear falling for the sheer love he had for the boy in his arms.

"You saved me," said Henry softly into his chest, only making Killian hold him tighter, a vow to do so, over and over and over.

"I always will," said Killian honestly. The words—the promise—made Henry's lip quiver, tears falling into the collar of his coat like rain on a desert.

And there was a flash to decades ago—to Bae.

"I can change for you, Bae."

Killian's eyes burned a little hotter, for the fresh wound of Bae's death.

He hadn't changed for Baelfire.

But…

"Captain Hook! I need you to help me!"

He had changed for Henry and Emma.

"Take care of them, Killian."

"I always will," repeated Killian in a whisper, to both boys at once.

Another set of familiar arms wrapped around him and Henry as Emma, fresh tears on her cheeks, embraced them both, her head finding Killian's other shoulder.

And Killian's eyes shut, holding them both, never feeling more whole in his life.

-.-.-.-.

tag list: @kmomof4 @justanother-unluckysoul @klynn-stormz @stahlop @ilovemesomekillianjones @hookmecaptain @tiganasummertree @jadehowlettthewolf @jonesfandomfanatic @anmylica @pirateprincessofpizza @stahlop @snowbellewells @eddisfargo @sotangledupinit @thepirateandhisson @motherkatereloyshipper @confessionsofthemword @killian-whump

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mikereads · 1 year ago

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Swan Queen x Christmas!

As always in Storybrooke the weather is getting cooler and December is upon them. Regina expects another Christmas to come and go like usual. Not letting the holidays affect her in either direction. As the rest of the town gets ready for the festivities that Regina leaves to her assistant to deal with. Emma Swan on the other hand has something else in mind. She went into this head first getting into the holiday spirit December 1st. Giving a helping hand to anyone in need. Decorating Main Street putting up lights for granny. Helping with bake sales and get togethers while also being the resident’s unofficial handyman. Regina thinking this is a tactic to take Henry away from her by bestowing her talents. Regina makes it a challenge to try and get involved in the Christmas spirit just as much for her son. She first finds it all to be trite and ridiculous. Going to parties, bake sales, bake offs. Tree lightings, caroling and all mayoral duties that require her to give a speech. Slowly she starts to let the holiday joy seep in. From the help of Henry and Emma, Regina soon starts to replace bad memories with good ones. She truly starts to understand the true meaning of Christmas. (It isn’t gifts). The festivities come to an end with a party at Granny’s to kick off the new year. Celebrating the Christmas Day with her two favorite people. Opening gifts, having breakfast and watching movies. It can’t get any better than this.

#regina mills #emma swan #ouat #henry mills #swan queen #swanqween #regina x emma #au #fan fic #ouat ff #au prompt

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myfearless-love · 5 months ago

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Too Well Tangled (Chapter 21/21 - "Untangling the Last Knot")

Chapters: 21/21 — "Untangling the Last Knot"

Rating: Mature

Fandom: Once Upon a Time (TV)

Relationship: Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Emma Swan

Characters: Captain Hook | Killian Jones, Emma Swan, Prince Charming | David Nolan, Arthur (Once Upon a Time), Knave of Hearts | Will Scarlet, Robin Hood (Once Upon a Time), Mad Hatter | Jefferson

Additional Tags: Captain Swan - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Regency, Enemies to Lovers, Angst and Fluff and Smut, BAMF Emma Swan, Angst and Romance, Banter

Summary: Determined and tough-minded Emma Nolan is on a singular mission: to rescue her dim-witted brother from the clutches of Killian Jones, the infamously rakish Marquess of Hookstone. Little did she anticipate her own burgeoning desire for the audacious, unscrupulous scoundrel she intended to despise. Killian Jones, the enigmatic Marquess of Hookstone, has more than earned his sinister sobriquet, the "Prince of Darkness." His past, a stormy mosaic of rejection and rebellion, has forged a man both feared and revered. Yet, the indomitable Miss Nolan proves an unexpectedly formidable opponent for his infamous charm. But when Killian's reciprocated passion lands them in a scandalously compromising, and very public, predicament, Emma is left with no recourse but to demand satisfaction...

Previous chapters: ch. 1 II ch. 2 II ch. 3 II ch. 4 II ch. 5 II ch. 6 II ch. 7 II ch. 8 II ch. 9 II ch. 10 II ch. 11 II ch.12 II ch. 13 II ch. 14 II ch.15 II ch. 16 II ch. 17 II ch. 18 II ch. 19 II ch. 20

READ HERE: AO3

Preview:

BIG shout out to my amazing beta @xarandomdreamx for always catching my mistakes and leaving me smiling with her comments!!❤️

Tagging some folks who might be interested:

@anmylica @elfiola @zaharadessert @gingerchangeling @undercaffinatednightmare

@jrob64 @teamhook @kmomof4 @jonesfandomfanatic @mie779

@winterbaby89 @tiganasummertree @stahlop @rylieblu @ultraluckycatnd

@eddisfargo @booksteaandtoomuchtv @laianely @hollyethecurious @resident-of-storybrooke

@beckettj @whimsicallyenchantedrose @captainswan-kellie @veryverynotgoodwrites @lfh1226-linda

@snowbellewells @caught-in-the-filter @shady-swan-jones @bluewildcatfanatic @fairytalepetzkle

(Let me know if you want to be added or removed from the list)

#captain swan #cs #killian jones #emma swan #cs ff #ouat #emma x killian #captain hook #once upon a time #ouat ff #captain swan fanfic #captain swan ff #captain swan fanfiction #TWT #enemies to lovers #regency au #niki writes

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exhaustedpirate · 9 months ago

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in your moon-lit eyes

here it is, my first project for the last year of CSSNS and I went for werewolves! and what are werewolf stories without sexy times? a million thanks to my beta @thejollyroger-writer and check out her awesome art to accompany this fic!

Summary: Treading through a forest at night alone is a terrible idea. Doing so during the full moon is even worse. You never know what sort of creatures you may find. Killian Jones finds that out in the worst way… or so he thinks.

Word count: 10350 words

Rating: Explicit

read on AO3

This was a terrible idea.

He could be at home wrapped around his warm blankets and watching some random movie on Netflix. He should, actually. But, apparently, he thinks it best to traipse through the woods on the coldest night of the year while being turned around by the strong winds.

Killian Jones is going to die in these woods and all because—

A loud snap of a twig sounds behind him, and he turns for all but a second before rushing his pace as best he can in the ankle-deep snow. If he doesn’t die of the cold, maybe some animal will jump him and kill him. He pulls on the scarf around his neck to cover more of his face.

Great, like this whole thing isn’t scary enough. He hopes they omit his stupidity in his eulogy. If his body is even found.

That’s not helping.

A warm light acts like a beacon between the trees, did he actually make it or is that the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel? It doesn’t matter at this point, really. Whatever waits for him at the end of the light will surely laugh in his face if they find out he died trying to return a—

A louder, more forceful, snap echoes behind him and he turns around sharply, a growl louder than the winds. He hears it before he sees it, bursting through the trees. A wolf just as tall as he is approaches him, mouth open with bared teeth, ears turned back and eyes glinting with murderous intent.

He feels his blood drain from his body and his body freeze in fear, unable to blink, to breathe. Pure panic flows through Killian’s veins even as his brain urges him to move. The animal approaches slowly, its black fur contrasting sharply with the white snow. Distantly, over the pounding beat of his heart in his ears, he hears another growl from behind him. Just his luck.

To his surprise, Killian doesn’t become dinner to two hungry wolves.

The wolf that approached from behind him jumps just as the darker one does, but instead of sinking their teeth on him, they clash in front of him and he stumbles to the cold ground. He can see now that the new wolf has light fur, a darker shade from the surrounding white.

They are fighting each other. The darker wolf fights in a deranged, desperate way, its eyes landing on Killian’s any chance it had. The lighter one looks more cautious, its movements calculated, practised. His life rests on that wolf’s paws.

Killian moves for the first time when the darker wolf sinks its teeth on the other wolf’s flank, reaching out at his rescuer’s loud whine, despite everything. That distracts his attacker, its eyes so full of hunger, he stops once more. It approaches slowly, its tongue licking the blood off its maw.

No more saviours, Killian Jones. This is it. Liam is waiting.

He closes his eyes, not wanting the last thing he sees to be the inside of a wolf’s mouth.

But death doesn’t come. Instead, there’s a loud shriek and thumping paws rushing away from where he stands. He opens his eyes slowly, and sees the last thing he expected: the light furred wolf panting heavily, its eyes on Killian with an angry glint overcome by pain and tiredness.

Before he can take a breath, before he can move, the wolf’s eyes roll to the back of its head as it slumps into the ground. Killian is unable to move for moments after, his brain trying to take stock of what happened. In the last minutes he expected death, he found relief, only to repeat the cycle once more. Now, here he is, in an unknown forest with an unconscious wolf in front of him and blood splattered over the white snow.

He should run away. Wolves are wild animals, prone to violence, and that’s what he had witnessed — wolf on wolf violence. But even if he could ignore the guilt at having been the one to initiate said encounter by his mere presence where he shouldn’t be, he knew this was no regular wolf.

Nevermind his decade-old interest in the supernatural, Killian knows the difference between wolves and these wolves, having spent just as long studying and practising the care of animals. So he knows, more than anyone else, that the unconscious wolf in front of him wasn’t a mere wolf but a werewolf. And a werewolf who had saved his life.

With a steadying sigh, Killian looks at where the warm light is coming and hopes it belongs someplace warm, someplace safe. He slowly approaches the animal, worried that it might not actually be unconscious despite its clear stillness and slow breathing.

Crouching, he pulls the animal’s heavy paws over his shoulders, its large head lolling onto its left paw. He wraps his arms around its back and pulls experimentally. When the wolf remains unmoving, he continues to pull, slowly making his way towards the light.

He is very happy to be right. It was not a metaphor for death, it is a cabin. The warm light is brighter since the cabin’s door remains open, as if someone exited in a worry.

“Hello?” He calls with panting breaths from the doorway. “Anyone home?” There is only silence and he sends one more little prayer to whoever has been keeping him safe that he is not entering some psycho killer’s home.

Killian pulls the wolf towards the dwindling fireplace, laying it on the warm rug. He rushes to close the door, shivering at the sharp improvement in temperature inside the cabin. As he takes his jacket off and rolls up his sleeves, he inspects the wolf’s unconscious form. The wound isn’t too deep. Deep enough to hurt, to rip the skin but he’d seen much worse. This will be a walk in the park. Ha!

The cabin consists of a single room: kitchen, living room, dining room and bedroom all in one, so he assumes the single door at the end of the cabin to be the bathroom. There are no sentimental trinkets, no scattered picture frames of loved ones, no paintings or even a TV — that last one isn’t surprising, they are in the middle of the woods. But there are books, just as good entertainment as a TV, in his opinion.

He quickly throws a few logs to revive the fire to chase away the chill still clinging to him before turning to the animal with a professional eye. He needs some sort of disinfectant. It won’t do to let his saviour die of infection. He looks around to find a small collection of bottles. Grabbing one, he uncorks it, taking a sniff of the delicious rum inside.

He sighs in reluctance to spill such a treasure. But needs must.

He takes care not to jostle the wolf too much before wrapping its wound with the scarf he still had around his neck. The animal is large, heavy, made even worse by its dead weight, no other bandage would have contained the wound. Once he finishes, he has worked up a sweat and the excitement of the night is taking its toll. He slumps against the couch, wolf head on his lap, keeping a sort of monitoring on its well-being with his hand on the wolf’s neck.

“Thank you for saving me,” he whispers tiredly. He lets out a breath, his body slumping in exhaustion, eyes shutting on their own. Before he knows it, Killian is fast asleep.

---

Killian wakes up slowly to a warmth at his feet. The first thing he notices is the pain in his body, especially the way his ass hurts from the hard floor. He opens his eyes, taking stock of his surroundings. He is in a cabin, and he can see the bright sun high in the sky and blue skies through the slanted skylight.

Right, last night. The cold forest, getting lost, the wolves. He sighs, then shuffles in his seat, trying to bring some relief to his body but as he moves, he hears a deep breath.

The second thing he notices is the way his hand touches bare skin, the weight of a head on his lap. Looking down, he realises why — there is a woman, a naked woman curled on the floor.

Startled, Killian scrambles away, jostling the stranger into wakefulness. He stops, a couple of feet away from her as he watches her raise her head from the floor. He knows her, it’s her.

Of course, any recognition doesn’t stop her from widening her eyes as she takes in his presence and her nakedness, shrieking in shock before she pulls a blanket down to cover herself, moving faster than he ever thought possible.

“Who the fuck are you and what are you doing in my home?!”

Killian’s mouth opens and closes, not for the first time at a loss for words in her presence. Her eyes clear as they look at each other, the panic and rough awakening washing away as she rises to her feet. Her sighed “oh” tells him she recognises him, too.

“M-My apologies,” he stutters and clears his throat at his rough voice. “I-You—”

“You’re the dumbass who almost got himself killed by traipsing around the forest at night!”

She winces as her arm hits her side and she wavers on her feet. He scrambles to his feet, holding out his hands to keep her standing. But she tightens her fist on the blanket around her and holds out her hand in front of him to stop him.

“You’re hurt,” he explains, keeping his distance while looking between the stained blanket and her eyes. “I cleaned up the wound and bandaged it last night but…well, you were rather bigger then.” His eyes twinkle with mirth while hers widen in surprise.

“How…Why—”

“I couldn’t leave you to die in the forest after you saved me,” he explains with a small smile and a shrug.

“I wouldn’t have had to save you if you hadn’t been so stupid as to walk through this forest alone during a full moon.” Her voice is hard and her eyes deadly, even if her hands still tremble and he can see the pain she tries to hide.

“You’re right, you’re right, I know,” he sighs, this really isn’t the best time to tell her why he was there. “But please, let me help you, it’s the least I can do.” She is quiet, her eyes focused on his face, searching his eyes. His heart is racing and his hands feel damp now. “I’m a veterinarian, I’ve treated millions of animal bites.” His smirk is half-hearted at best.

Her eyebrow rises. “I’ll be healed soon.”

“And in the meantime, you’re prone to infections.” She hums in contemplation. “It won’t take long and I’ll feel better knowing I was able to make it up to you. All I need is a first aid kit.”

She shuffles her feet, and the movement must disturb her wound because she winces and forces the blanket tighter against the wound. “Fine,” she groans.

He follows her eagerly as she opens the only door in the cabin, revealing a small bathroom, like he suspected. “I’m Killian, by the way. Killian Jones.” He curses the breathless tone of his voice.

“Emma Swan.” She says distractedly as she carefully sits on the toilet seat lid. Swan, of course. That explains why the— “The first aid kit is in that cabinet over there.”

He quickly retrieves the small kit and is glad to find everything he needs. When he turns back to her, he notices that she’s arranged the blanket so it covers her private areas but keeps the wound area visible. The bite mark looks less angry now than it had last night, but the punctures are deep, still dark red — they go up to her stomach and down to her belly button and he is sure they have the same placement on her back. She protected him.

“Are you just going to stand and stare?” Her voice lacks the bite he expected and when he looks up at her face, he sees a pink hue to her cheeks even as her eyes remain exasperated.

“Apologies, love, I was just…analysing the situation,” he stutters. He really needs to get a grip on himself.

“Right.”

Not wanting to make her more uncomfortable, Killian places the open kit on the sink, grabbing the disinfectant and some cotton balls. “This is going to hurt, love,” he says as he holds a cotton ball close to the wound.

She scoffs. “Right.”

He holds his breath as he presses the disinfectant to her skin. Emma gasps, her hand grabbing his wrist and digging her nails in. “Son of a— Fuck!”

“I warned you,” His eyebrows furrow in concentration, feeling no delight in hurting her. “Just take some deep breaths.”

Emma does as he says, and her grip loosens a bit. Killian carries on his work, focusing on tending to her wound, knowing that the faster he gets this finished, the better it will be for her. He makes sure to disinfect every inch of the wound, not wanting to think of how soft her skin looks or how she smells like the rum from the night before and forest and a hint of cinnamon.

“Is it done?” She is panting, her chest rising and falling fast from the pain.

“Aye,” He clears his throat and grabs the gauze from the kit. “I just, hmm, need to wrap this around the wound.” He explains looking between the wound and the blanket she holds against her naked skin.

Emma follows his gaze. “Oh.”

“I’m sorry, Swan, I-”

“It’s fine,” She waves her hand with a forced relaxed movement, even if she doesn’t look at him. “It’s not like you haven’t seen boobs before.”

“Well, I don’t usually expect to see a woman’s breasts after only meeting her for less than an hour,” he tries to tease, trying to keep his voice light, hoping she doesn’t notice how his heart is threatening to beat out of his chest.

Her chuckle is quiet. “Right, well…” Her hands loosen their hold on the blanket. “Here’s to another first.” The blanket falls to her lap, keeping her covered below the waist.

Killian knows he needs to remain professional, not act like some sort of pervert. Even if they are the most perfect breasts he has ever seen. He spares her chest only a quick glance before unfurling the roll of gauze. “Can you-” He clears his throat. “Can you hold the leading edge of the gauze, love?”

Her eyes meet his and he swears they look darker than they had before. “Sure,” she breathes out.

With her pointer finger carefully in place, he unrolls the gauze around her back, making sure to cover the wound. His chest presses against hers and he hears her sharp intake of breath. As he brings the gauze to her front, Killian can’t help but notice how her nipples have gotten harder. His tongue runs along his lower lip and he hears her breath grow shallower.

“You can let go,” he whispers. It takes her a moment to do as instructed and he wonders if she is as affected by their proximity as he is.

Killian wraps the gauze around her body, choosing to focus on the soft feel of the bandage rather than on the way her breath shifts or how his jeans get tighter by the second. With every inch of the wound covered, he tucks the gauze behind her back, unable to keep from feeling the softness of her skin and smelling the citrus scent of her hair and hearing her harsh breathing.

“All done,” he breathes, backing away from her as fast as he allows himself to go.

Their eyes meet and the green in hers is all but swallowed by her black pupils, her lips are parted in fast breaths and her chest rises and falls quickly. She looks like a predator looking at her prey, and Killian should be scared, should run from the cabin, but he finds himself entranced by her gaze.

“Emma—”

The sound of his voice shatters the moment and Emma’s eyes return to normal, her shoulders tensing. He steps away, acknowledging her tension to his unwanted proximity. Killian puts away the kit, giving her a break from his gaze and when he turns back he sees the blanket back over her shoulders.

“Do you, hmm…” He scratches the back of his neck, unsure where to look. “Do you need me to bring you some clothes?”

“Oh, hmm, no, I got it.”

Emma stands up, far too fast, and he notices her swaying before she does, his hands grabbing onto her arms for support. “You should eat something,” he whispers, her green eyes capturing his gaze. “So you can get your strength back.”

She pulls back from him and he clenches his fists, stopping himself from holding her again. “I know what I’m doing.” Emma walks determinedly but carefully out of the bathroom. “You know,” she says from the closet area. “I appreciate your help and all but you should go, there’s not going to be any wolves outside during the day.”

“Right, right,” Killian runs his hand through his hair and exits the bathroom, keeping his eyes on the floor. “Hmm, thank you for saving me.”

“You’re welcome.”

Killian nods once, grabbing his jacket — he would like to say that he tried but there had never even been a chance — and walks to the front door. The doorknob is cold but after being so close to Emma’s warmth, anything would be. There is resistance when he tries to open the door. When it does, he finds out why: a mountain of snow covers almost the entire height of the door, blocking their way out.

He closes the door in silent surprise and turns his back to it. Emma looks up, and there is relief in her face before she finds him still inside her home. Her face scrunches in confusion and surprise, her shoulders tense. “What — What are you still doing here?”

“Well, uh—”

“You’re supposed to leave!”

“Actually, it—”

She is fairly steady on her feet as she walks towards the door. “Leave.” Emma turns the doorknob and gasps when snow hits her still bare feet.

“I was trying to tell you,” Killian says as she looks at the blockage. “It appears I’m stuck here.”

Emma groans and slams the door shut, forcing it against the snow that wanted to come in. “I can’t believe this!”

“I’m sorry, Emma but I don’t control the weather!”

She turns sharply towards him, the intensity of her gaze making his heartbeat quicken and he watches as her eyes grow dark with hunger and her breathing turns raspier. Maybe taking shelter with a werewolf, even one that saved his life, hadn’t been the best idea. Add it to the long list of them, in the last 24 hours alone.

“It’s fine,” She finally says with a rough voice, breaking their eye contact and pinching the bridge of her nose. “Just… Just stay out of my way.”

“I’ll prepare us some food, it’s the least I can do.”

“Fine, fine, just—”

“Stay out of your way.” His smile is thin as she looks up at him.

“Exactly.” She looks like she’s shaking herself out of the thoughts going through her brain before she crosses the room to the dresser.

So his morning is not going as he expected. Not that he had had much of a plan apart from where to find her cabin. He had been looking for her, and considered it lucky that she had found him before he could die of hypothermia in the forest, but the circumstances were undeniably more complicated than he could have planned.

Killian focuses on… lunch, he guesses, as they must have slept later than he thought. Like he said, the least he could do. He finds the coffee machine, thanking every deity that at least she has power, and sets it to brew. He finds eggs and bread and turns on the gas stove to scramble the eggs while his mind wanders. Wanders into fanciful notions of fate.

With the plates in hand, he starts to turn. “Lunch is—” Emma is right in front of him when he faces the table, dark eyes focused on his neck. “Ready.”

She looks sharply up at him and appears to shake herself out of some thought or other. “Good,” She takes the plate from his hand, making her way to the small table at the corner. “I was starving.”

Killian sighs and follows her to the table before coming back for the coffee mugs. They sit in silence with only the sounds of them eating and drinking. He feels it dig into the skin of his thigh and he wonders if he should just rip off the bandage as it were, just tell her why he came to find her. Maybe she’ll even find it funny that he almost became a wolf’s meal just to—

“You weren’t surprised.”

Her voice startles him out of his thoughts and he looks up at her furrowed brow. “Pardon?”

“You weren’t expecting to wake up next to me, specifically, but you weren’t surprised about the werewolf thing.”

“Ah,” He looks away, scratching behind his ear. “I did say I’m a veterinarian.”

Her unimpressed stare would make him laugh if this was a laughing matter. “Right, I’m sure veterinary school has a major in werewolf.”

“It was an extracurricular, actually,” He lets out a breathy laugh and even her expression softens with the sudden joke. “I wanted to know everything I could about werewolves so I, hmm, so I wouldn’t be caught unprepared again.” He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “For all the good that did me.”

He looks up to find her looking at him, an understanding glint to her eyes. “Yeah, I think I should give you some slack for being an idiot and traipsing around the forest during a full moon.” He shares a small smile with her. “This wasn’t your first encounter with werewolves then?”

“No,” he breathes out, blinking against the memory, before grabbing their empty plates and mugs and taking them to the sink. “I was young the first time I saw one, I didn’t know what they were until I saw what normal wolves looked like.” He chuckles wryly, starting to wash the dishes, very aware of her eyes on him. “My brother Liam loved nature, we would go camping, on hikes, we helped on farms. Because of him, I could identify more than a dozen types of insects before I was in high school.” He smiles wistfully and hears her hum, clearly noting the impending unhappy turn of his story.

Despite Liam’s actual love for nature, there had been a need for them to spend time away from home — they would camp out in nature when his father went out to drink so they wouldn’t be his targets when he came back, their hikes were well-timed for when their father hosted his weekly poker games with his horrible friends, and the farmers were generous to pay them for their helping hands, money that they hid from their father. He didn’t find out about any of that until their father died and Liam took custody of him.

“We were camping on a new spot, we’d settled down for the night, made a fire and Liam was telling these stories from his job when we heard growling. Liam sent me inside the tent so I could warn the forest rangers,” Killian takes a deep breath, turning off the tap. “They told me to stay put, that they were on their way, told us not to run, not to turn our backs.” He grabs a cloth and focuses on drying the dishes. “But they kept approaching and Liam kept trying to reassure me, it was all so loud.”

His hands stilled as he dried a plate. He could still see their glowing eyes, dark bodies, could hear his own cries, Liam’s reassuring voice, and the growls. It was all so loud.

“Liam grabbed a log from the fire, waved it in front of him to scare them, it should have worked,” Killian whispers, his eyes far away. “But there were so many of them and they surrounded him. There were so many of them,” he sighs, closing his eyes. “They jumped him, Liam screamed, I screamed, and then the rangers showed up.”

It got louder after that. Jeeps running, voices shouting, Liam’s continued screaming.

“He was barely alive when they took him away,” Killian continues with a heavy breath, putting down the last plate and leaning against the counter. He keeps his eyes on the ground. “He died in the hospital and I didn’t say goodbye.”

“Killian—”

“The doctors didn’t tell me anything, they told everything to the social worker,” he continued. “He had to tell me that my brother had lost too much blood and that his lungs had been punctured too badly and then I couldn’t even go home because Liam was dead and I was still a minor.”

“That’s horrible.”

“And I kept wondering, you know? Why would wolves attack someone like that? Years later, I realised they weren’t wolves at all and I started obsessing over the existence of werewolves because I didn’t want to end up in that position again, and then I did, and I was still that scared lad inside the tent and—”

“Killian.”

Her hands are on his shoulders and her eyes on his, stopping the words in his throat. He now feels the tears on his cheeks, didn’t even realise he was crying. He didn’t think he had any tears left to cry after that day, almost 15 years ago. But they were still there and he was crying in front of her. Her.

Killian looks down, shame filling his chest. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have told you this. Especially you.”

“Especially me?”

He sniffs, wiping away his tears. “Aye, I mean you’re a werewolf and we just met.”

“And yet, you have already seen my boobs.” He lets out a surprised laugh, looking up to see her soft eyes and kind smile. Wow. Her brow furrows and her eyes grow worried. “Are you scared of me?”

“I— I—” He wants to say no, that he could never be. But he wants to be honest. “I was.” He takes a gentle hold on her wrists, keeping the comforting weight of her hands on his shoulders, thumb slowly rubbing her skin. “I thought I was going to die in that forest either by that other wolf or by both of you but then, well, you saved me.”

Her cheeks flushed red and she slowly pulled away from his touch, arms crossed over her chest. “His name is Henry,” At Killian’s frown, she clarified. “The wolf who attacked you. He’s young, recently turned, this is his second full moon. He didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I assumed,” He shrugs and she looks up at him, surprised. “I read a lot about how full moons affect werewolves.”

“And yet—”

“We’ve established that I was stupid, already, Swan.”

She snorts a laugh and it makes him smile. “I found him during his first transformation and we talked, I tried to help. But this time you were there and so he lashed out.”

“I’m sorry—”

She waves away his apology. “It’s like I said, I’ll heal soon.” She shrugs.

“You weren’t affected,” he says after a minute. “You didn’t attack me.”

She shrugs with a deep breath. “I’ve had a lot of time to control this, and with time, Henry will learn too.”

“How long have you been like this?”

“If we’re getting into my origin story, I need to sit down. This still stings.” She waves towards her side before gesturing for him to join her on the couch.

They sit on opposite ends, even as he turns towards her. She sighs, and he watches as she closes her eyes to focus. “I was 16. I was living in the streets of Boston and I met this guy, Neal. He was older and I thought he was so cool,” She shakes her head in shame and he places his hand on top of hers on the couch cushions. She takes a deep breath, keeping her eyes on their hands. “We were together for a while, crashed at empty motel rooms, and it all looked so exciting back then. One day, he tells me he has to leave. He has to leave because someone bad is looking for him. He tells me he stole something from them and they have been trying to find him.”

Her breathing gets quicker and he holds her hand. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” she interrupts, her hand tightening its grip on his. “Neal tells me he wants to give it back but he’s afraid and so I volunteered to do the drop for him. I didn’t know what to expect but I thought I was in love and that if I did this then we’d be able to be together and have a future.” She scoffs. “He tricked me, he sent me to the middle of a literal wolf’s den and they were furious when they found that the bag was empty.”

Her hand grips his painfully hard but he says nothing, simply listening.

“I must have blacked out. I woke up alone in an alley and my body felt different. Everything was so loud and hot and overwhelming. My first transformation was so painful and I was alone, I didn’t know what to do. I ran. I ran until I found myself here in Storybrooke.” Emma takes a deep breath, her grip loosening on his hand and he rubs her skin with his thumb. She pulls her hand away from his grip and he forces himself to let her go. “Granny found me and helped me. I got this cabin after the sheriff died and I work at her diner.”

“Why here?”

“Graham was a friend, he cared for me and I cared for him. He left me this place in his will and I needed a place to deal with the full moons. Granny helped me but I needed reassurance, I didn’t want to put anyone in danger.”

“And now?”

“I like this place,” she smiles softly as she looks around the living room.

“What about Ruby?” Emma turns to him with a frown. “I work with her. Veterinary, remember?” She rolls her eyes and he smiles. “I asked her about you but she didn’t say anything.”

“You asked her about me?” She smirks but there is a red tint to her cheeks.

“Well, aye,” he scratches the back of his ear with a matching blush. “I would see you around town and — just — does she know?” He stutters to try and change the subject.

“She does,” she nods, her smirk softening. “She’s my best friend and a big help.”

Her tone hid something. “Is she—?”

“Yup. She was born like that so yeah, big help.” She chuckles.

Killian sits back with a sharp exhale, hand in his hair. “Wow, I never thought I’d find myself in a town with so many of you.” He pauses and turns to Emma, watching as she hides her frown. “I mean, I came here for a fresh start. I went through a rough break-up and just wanted to drive until I found my place. My car broke down by the town sign and while I waited at Granny’s, I heard Ruby talk about the problems her clinic was going through. I wanted to help and I ended up staying. That was almost two months ago.”

“She talks very highly of you.”

“Oh, well, the feeling is mutual,” He blushes and sees a spark of something in her eyes even as she tries to hide it with a smile. “She is a good friend and an even better partner. I just never thought she was a werewolf too.”

“Is that a problem?”

“No, I — I mean,” he stutters and lets out a groan at his inability to express his thoughts. “I thought it would be a problem. For more than a decade, I’ve feared and hated werewolves for what they did to my brother, that I forgot to consider that there were people behind the animal. I admire Ruby and care so much for her that I can’t think about being afraid of her.”

“And me?” He turns to see her watching him intensely and he is unable to look away.

“You saved me,” he breathes out. “In a short moment, you turned my world upside down. You made me reevaluate all that I thought I knew. It’s not a problem, Emma.”

Her eyes stare into his in silence, his heart thumping against his ribcage. Her hair is like gold under the late morning sun and her skin looks so soft. He can’t stop himself from running a finger down her forearm, feeling its warmth. Her breathing hitches and her eyes widen.

He wants to kiss her. The thought barrels into his mind so fast that he feels his own breath get stuck in his throat. He knew how beautiful she was, remembers thinking it during the second they had looked at each other, but that was nothing compared to the desire filling him now.

“I don’t know if you remember,” he speaks quietly, not wanting to shatter the moment. “But we’ve seen each other before.” She hums and his lips tick up in a small smile. “We, um, ran into each other a couple of days ago in the supermarket?”

“I — I remember.”

He swallows against the lump in his throat. Rip the bandage.

“I asked Granny about you and she told me where you live.” Emma frowns. “You dropped this.” From his pocket, he takes out a small silver pendant, a swan carved on it. “I found it on the floor after you ran away.”

“Oh.” She takes the pendant from his hand, her fingers touching his.

“I, uh, I came here to give you that.”

“You went into the forest, at night, through a full moon, just to give me this?” Emma asks with an even tone, her shining eyes gazing into his.

Killian takes a deep breath. “Aye.”

“You’re such an idiot.” She breathes out, and before he can defend himself again, her lips are on his and there are other more important things he could be doing with his mouth.

Her mouth is hard against his, her hands strong on his shoulders and her tongue demanding entrance. He places his hands on her neck and waist, urges her to slow down, needs her to slow down. He has spent so much time dreaming of kissing her that he can’t have their first kiss be an impulsive mess. She lets out a breath and allows him to kiss her calmly, softly. Her hands dig into his hair and he moans against her lips. Her kisses stray to his cheek, to his jawline, small nibbles making him breathe heavier, his hand clenching on her waist.

Her lips are soft when they get to his neck, focusing on his pulse, her tongue licking and tasting. His breathing is harsh, pleasure coursing through his veins to pool at his crotch. Her teeth sink into his skin and he gasps. She quickly pulls away, wide eyes on his neck and whatever she sees there and his face.

“Emma—” He brings his hand up to touch her face but he barely feels the softness of her skin when she pulls away to stand.

“No. No.” She shakes her head and he is still as he watches her run to the bathroom and lock the door behind her.

“Emma?” He follows her, calling her name from the other side of the door. “Emma, is everything okay?”

“No, no,” She answers and he can tell she is pacing on the other side. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

He ignores the stab to his heart and clears his throat. “I mean, I was a willing participant.” He tries to joke but all he hears is a groan from inside. “Emma, please, open the door, let’s talk about this.”

“No, there’s nothing to talk about, it was a mistake.” Her voice is panicked and he pushes down his emotions.

“Fine, we’ll forget about it,” he forces himself to say. “We’ll call it an act of gratitude, I returned something precious to you and you saved my life. What do you say?” There is silence from the other side. “We’re stuck in this small cabin together, Emma, don’t hide away in there.”

The silence continues for a moment longer and he holds his breath. The lock unlatches and he takes a couple of steps back. The door opens to a much calmer Emma but with a guarded expression. “Neal gave me that pendant,” she says and her voice is quiet. “I felt so special. After he abandoned me, I saw it as a reminder not to trust again.”

He presses his lips together, his hands eager to reach, to comfort, to beat this Neal to a pulp. “I’m sorry, love, I almost wish I had lost it in the snow.”

Her chuckle is weak but it’s real. She takes a deep breath. “Do you like to read?”

The question takes him by surprise and her smile widens. “Hmm, aye, I do.”

“Good,” She walks past him to the living room, stopping at the bookcase. “As you can see, there’s no TV so—”

“I am good with books,” He grins at her and surveys her collection. “The Princess Bride? I haven’t read this in years.” He takes the book off the shelf, noting its overused state, and turns to watch her looking at him with curiosity.

“It’s my favourite, actually.”

“Fan of dashing pirates?” He raises his eyebrow before sauntering to the couch, sprawling on one side.

“Actually, yeah,” she smirks as she grabs a different book, an adventure book, he notices, and imitates his movements to settle at the other side. “Are you a fan of princesses?”

“I did dress up as Buttercup my last year in college,” he answers, focusing on opening the book. “I even found a few Westley’s to complete the ensemble.” He turns to her with a wink.

Her mouth is parted for a few seconds before it stretches into a smile. “Oh, I would have paid to see that!”

“I cut quite the figure in that dress.”

She lets out a delighted laugh that he can’t help but match. Emma leans back on the couch as her laughter dies down, watching him with interest. “You are definitely not what I thought you would be.”

“I could say the same about you.” He smiles back at her.

Her eyes are so green that even the lowering sun can’t keep them from shining. His lips still tingle from her kiss, his hands still ache for the touch of her skin and yet, he is unable to have her once more. He wants to feel her touch, her kiss. But he’ll follow her lead, he wants her to be able to trust him — he doesn’t want to take, he wants it to be given.

“We should, hmm,” Emma presses her lips together in a small smile and raises her book as a way to finish the sentence.

Killian nods, understanding the need for a reprieve. “Aye.”

They turn to their books as one, letting silence fill the small, warm cabin. He wishes he had picked up an unfamiliar book, something he’d never read before. He knew the story of Buttercup and Westley like the back of his hand, had read it as many times as his second-hand book had allowed. And while it was still easy to get absorbed in their universe of adventure and romance, he was still very aware of Emma’s presence, her breathing, her warmth. It’s not uncomfortable but he feels the tension in every hair on his body.

Night falls in the quiet and the full moon’s light joins the artificial light in the cabin. Emma inhales sharply and he turns to her for the first time in hours to watch as she looks up at the skylight.

“Are you alright?” he asks quietly.

“Yeah,” Emma nods, dragging her eyes from the large face of the moon. “It always catches me by surprise the way it calls to me.”

He joins her with his neck stretched on the back of the couch to watch the moon for a minute. When he turns, he finds her watching him. “Is there anything you need?”

Emma shakes her head, in more than just an answer. “No, it’s been a while since I’ve been a slave to it,” she clarifies with a small smile. “It just makes everything so much clearer and intense.” She takes a deep breath. “Are you hungry?”

He snorts in surprise. “Aye, actually.”

“Great,” she grins. “Make us something good.” She winks at him before making herself more comfortable on the couch.

“Right,” he laughs. “I have to earn my keep, don’t I?”

“Exactly.” Her smile makes his heart flutter in his chest, the brightness and beauty of it stealing his breath away. “Just a hint, I’m a big fan of grilled cheese.”

He stands up, dropping the book on his empty seat and grins. “That sounds less like a hint and more like a menu.”

“Get to it then, chef.”

His laughter follows him into the kitchen.

“You know, while I cook,” Killian calls from the kitchen. “You should probably check on your injury. You said you heal fast, right?”

“A chef and a doctor, maybe I should keep you around.” She grins before heading to the bathroom.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.” He mumbles under his breath.

Killian tries to stop himself from imagining what a life with Emma would be in this cabin, how they would spend their evenings. The smell of cheese fills the whole cabin and with it, the sound of a hungry werewolf’s feet padding to his side.

“Something smells delicious.” He tries to keep himself from reacting to her voice so close to him.

“Grilled cheese, just like milady ordered.” She grins up at him before taking the plate from his hands. “How did the wound look?”

“It’s scarring,” She lifts her shirt only enough to show him the barely-there bite and he nods. “Is it approved, Doctor Jones?”

He laughs delightedly at the sound of it from her lips before joining her at the table. “Aye.”

Though the food is good, the company is better. She tells him about the book she was reading, an adventure in Egypt with a very clever librarian and a brave if arrogant adventurer. They return to their books after tidying up the kitchen. Buttercup is about to attempt to stab herself in the chest when a yawn startles him. It has been a long day.

“Maybe it’s time to sleep,” Emma suggests, closing the book. She bites her lip as she looks around the cabin, her eyes landing on the bed.

As much as he would love to share one, they had agreed to put that kiss behind them. “I’ll take the couch,” he says, dropping his book on the coffee table.

“Oh.” He wonders if he truly hears disappointment in her voice or if it’s just wishful thinking. “Right, that’s great. I’ll bring you some blankets.”

Emma moves faster than he could, rummaging around a wooden chest. The couch is comfortable and wide enough to fit his long body, but he can’t help but wish he could share the slim bed with Emma, to feel her body close to his. Then again, that would also be a dangerous and torturous situation.

He removes his sweater and jeans, folding them neatly on top of the table. Blankets land on the couch and he turns to see Emma standing far closer to him than he expected. Her eyes are wide and her pupils almost black and he wishes he could read her mind.

“I—”

She shakes her head, taking a step back. “Goodnight.” She blurts out before wrapping herself in her bed, the only thing visible is the top of her blonde head.

“Goodnight.”

Killian takes his time getting comfortable on the couch, forcing himself not to search for her silhouette in the dark. He forces his eyes closed, forces his body to relax, to find sleep so that he might forget his desires. He isn’t cold under the blankets, but there is a lack of warmth that he recognises as the one he felt from her skin. He forces himself to sleep and begs for relief.

---

This was a terrible idea.

Her skin is filled with prickles, a need to move, to run, to touch, to be touched. Her nose is buried in her pillow, hoping her own scent will distract her from the intoxicating scent of his sleeping body. His scent is delicious torture, she knows it well, not only from the day they’ve spent in each other’s company but from all the times they’d pass each other in town.

Her breathing is ragged and she feels as if she can’t take a proper breath. She clenches her hands against the sheets, hoping that it will stop her from succumbing to her nature. She wants to feel his skin against hers again, to feel his pulse against her lips. It has been hours of torture in her bed and she forces herself to endure a few more.

It doesn’t work.

She is standing next to his sleeping body before she has taken her next breath. He is on his back, one arm behind his head and the other over his stomach and his legs are crossed. The blanket that she gave him is at his waist and she can feel how warm his body is even from a distance. His lips are parted and his breathing is even and quiet. His heartbeat is calm and she can hear his blood in his veins.

Her nose is a whisper away from the bulging vein in his neck. Just as she remembered, like the sweetest fruit, like the most powerful poison. She feels his warm breath on her fingertips, sees his eyes move underneath his eyelids and she wishes to know what he is dreaming of. She feels the soft skin of his lips on her forefinger. She wants to feel that softness on her own lips again. She wants to take, to claim him. She wants— She needs—

Emma swallows his surprised breath with her lips, with her kiss, their mouths moulded perfectly to one another once more. She forces herself to pull away, even as her hand clenches in the fabric of his t-shirt. His eyes are wide and she is sure hers are much the same.

“Emma…”

Her name is a whisper from his lips, the most bewitching of enchantments and the most beautiful of songs. Like before, he isn’t stopping her, isn’t refusing her kiss, her touch, and she hears his heart beating fast and loud against his chest. His breathing is ragged and his warmth has risen several degrees. She wants him. She needs him.

Their lips lock in a passionate kiss, his warm hand burning the skin of her neck. She pulls her leg up to straddle him, wanting to be closer and closer. His other hand lands on her waist and she feels the stirring of his arousal beneath her, making her moan against his lips.

Killian pulls away, his thumb on her lips but she is far too gone to stop now, kissing his finger, the palm of his hand, the thumping pulse on his wrist, her tongue licking, tasting. Words pause at his throat, chest filling with a sharp inhale.

“Emma.” His voice forces itself firmly under all the passion that is surely matching hers. “I thought—”

“I know,” she interrupts, her nails running down his chest. She knows — knows that she was the one who stopped their kiss before, knows that she’s the one who ran. She was scared of her desires, scared that he would be afraid of her nature, but she feels the urge of the moon. Feels it urging her to take him, to claim him. “But I need you.” Her teeth nip against his bottom lip, her hands finding their way inside his shirt, and she swallows his moan with a kiss. “Please?”

He looks at her, searching, and she feels her skin crawl with need. His breathing is rapid, his heartbeat under her palm and echoing in her ears, she grinds her hips down against his, involuntarily. He nods, a frantic motion as his hands grip her hips, whether to stop her or to quicken her movements, she isn’t sure he knows which either.

“As you wish.”

His hand grabs her neck and pulls her in for a kiss. His mouth takes control, and she is glad for it — she feels overwhelmed by his taste, his scent, his other hand grabbing her ass and urging her to move against his growing erection. It’s too much and not enough.

His teeth nip her bottom lip as her thumbs find his nipples. She feels his chest hair on her palms and is eager to feel it against her breasts. His hand runs up her bare back and she is glad to have removed her bra before jumping him. His breath stutters as he finds nothing stopping him from feeling her skin and his hand moves back down only to run up her side, shivers making her buck in his lap. His thumb finds the underside of her breast and he inhales sharply. She pulls her lips away from his but keeps eye contact. She sighs as his hand cups her breast, his rough palm on her nipple making her moan.

“Fuck,” he moans, his thumb flicking her nipple. It’s too much. It’s not enough. She removes her hands from under his shirt to pull her own off her body. “Fuck.” He repeats before he pulls her down to run his lips down her chest.

His mouth finds her nipple and she digs her fingers in his hair, keeping his talented mouth right where she needs it. His hand stimulates her lonesome breast while his other hand finds its way inside her shorts and underwear. She stutters out a moan when she feels his fingers on her clit.

“Killian,” she moans and is surprised when he raises himself into a sitting position, his mouth more firm against her breast. “Killian.”

“Say it again,” he demands as he sucks on her nipple and his fingers slide into her wet folds. “Please, say it again.”

“Killian,” she moans, tugging on his hair to bring his face up to hers. His eyes are blown-black and his breathing is heavy. “Killian.” She presses her lips to the corner of his mouth. “Killian,” She moans as she tugs on his bottom lip when she feels his thumb circling her clit. “Killian.”

“Emma,” he moans and she can see why he wanted her to say his name again. “Emma,” It’s like a shock to her system, like a warm blanket on a cold night, like a kiss, like a bite. “Emma.”

“Fuck,” She groans and pulls his shirt off, needing him naked, needing to see him, needing to feel him. “I need you.”

“I need you too.”

With his hands on her ass, he raises her up on her knees. He tosses the blanket to the floor before pulling off his underwear. After, he pulls her to lay on top of him and she feels his erection against the fabric of her shorts and the tingling of his chest hair on her nipples. His mouth crashes against hers and she is overwhelmed with sensations but needs more, needs it all. His hand pulls down her shorts and she takes them off the rest of the way. His body is warm when she lays back against him and she lets out a satisfied sigh.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers against her lips, his hand running up her bare leg while his other lays on her neck. “You’re brilliant.” His fingers skim the roundness of her ass before moving down. “You’re intoxicating.” His fingers find her wetness and she gasps.

“Please, please, please,” she mumbles as her hips grind against his fingers.

He takes her in a passionate kiss just as his fingers slide inside her. Her moan is lost in his mouth and she digs her nails in his arms. She moves her hips in time with his hand, urging him to take her faster and she gasps when he does. She wonders if this is only a very realistic fantasy, if it’s possible for someone to make her feel this way so easily. She can’t wait anymore.

She pulls away from him, his fingers slipping from her to land on her butt cheek. His eyes are hazy with lust and hers are much the same. She sits on his lap and feels the thickness of his cock against her, teasing her, calling her to her. He inhales sharply and holds his breath, watching the stars shining up in the sky behind her, the glow of the moon illuminating her bare back, waiting for her next move.

“I need you,” she repeats and grinds against him, covering his length with her essence. He nods, his jaw tight and his hand clenching on her ass.

Splaying one hand on his chest for balance, she takes hold of his cock, lining it up to her awaiting cunt. With locked eyes, Emma raises herself up and allows it to enter her. He is thick, hard and warm, and she takes it all in one slow drag. They both breathe out as one, embracing how full she feels, how right she feels around him. How perfect it is to be joined.

His hands run up her thighs, settling at her hips. She closes her eyes at the softness, the warmth of his touch. “Emma,” he calls quietly, his hands urging her hips to move, and she finds him watching her. “You feel amazing.”

She moves slowly, unrushed. She lets her body adjust to this amazing intrusion as she studies him, the effects of pleasure in his face, his furrowed brow, his parted lips, his tightening grip. Her fingers clench over his chest at every wave of pleasure this languid motion brings. Their eyes lock as she moves and she feels it like a caress over her body. His hands drag slowly up her torso and her back arches in expectation of his touch. She gasps as he palms one breast while thumbing the other’s nipple.

“More,” she moans, bucking up and down faster on his lap. “More.”

Emma whimpers as he directs one hand away from her breast but grins when she feels his thumb on her clit. “That’s it, love,” he urges her, his voice tight with restraint. “I want to see you.”

Her nails dig on his chest when his feet find purchase on the couch cushions to thrust up against her. His gasp turns into a moan at the pain mixed with pleasure and dimly she wonders how far she could take it without breaking him. His thumb presses down on her clit and she throws her head back, her orgasm catching her by surprise, a loud moan spilling from her lips.

He slows down his ministrations, allowing her to ride out her climax, her body buzzing in need of more. She lets out a breath and locks eyes with him once more, a silent demand in her green eyes. Killian sits up, changing the angle of his still hard cock inside her and making them both inhale sharply. Her arms wrap around his neck, his soft hair between her fingers.

“You want more?” Emma nods, their noses bumping with one another at the movement, and she thrills at the smirk on his lips. Is this what prey feel under her stare? “I’ll give you more.”

He crashes his mouth on hers, a hard, burning, desperate kiss. His hands run up her back, and she arches against his chest, moaning against his lips at the feel of his chest hair against her hard nipples. He manoeuvres them so that she’s on her back on the couch, his hot, heavy body on top of hers making her feel safe, cared for, in a way she’d never felt before.

The new position sends him deeper inside her, shivers running down her body. He chances a slow thrust of his hips. “Give me more,” she moans, sighing when he complies. “Give me everything.” Her nails dig into his back as he starts a steady pace. “Everything.”

Killian groans as he speeds up, setting a faster, deeper pace, their foreheads pressed against each other. The breath is stolen from her lungs every time he hits that spot inside her, the spot that demands that she take him, that she keep him, that she claim him. Her legs wrap around his waist, pulling him ever closer and she feels his laboured breathing on her face.

“I want you,” she whispers, nails dragging deep in his skin and she thrills at his moan. “I need you.” She kisses his cheek, his jawline, his neck, inhaling the smell of his blood, his essence. “Can I take you? Can I keep you?”

His hips falter in their rhythm as he pulls back to look into her eyes. She lets him see, opening herself up to him in more ways than the obvious one. His eyes are wide but even that couldn’t hide his desire, and he nods.

Her grin is barely stretched over her lips before they part in a gasping moan when he resumes his thrusts, pushing in deeper than before. She kisses his neck, licking the sensitive spot below his ear, following his vein. She kisses and sucks on his skin, he groans against her skin and his hand tightens on her skin before she bites down until she tastes his blood on her tongue.

“Fuck!”

She feels him spill inside her, a string of curses groaned against her skin. His orgasm triggers her — his talented ministrations joined with the taste of his delicious essence. An all-encompassing climax that makes time stand still, makes her feel like she’s flying. She pulls away from his skin, the mark of her bite on his neck filling her up with pride and satisfaction.

“Emma,” he breathes out, before groaning at the feel of her tongue cleaning up his wound. The renewed taste of his blood makes her moan and clench around him. “Emma,” he whispers.

She pulls back to look into his eyes, the starry night behind him making him look almost ethereal. He moves them to their sides, legs tangled. “I’ve been wanting to taste you for a while,” She confesses and tries to hide her blush at his tired smirk and raised eyebrow. “You smell good,” She shrugs, her fingers following the veins of his arms. “I was trying to keep in control, I didn’t want to scare you or take you against your wishes. But I’ve wanted to…”

His smile becomes more genuine and she lays her hand on his chest, over his heart, feeling his steady heartbeat. “I’ve wanted you for a while too,” he confesses, pressing a chaste kiss on her lips. “Since I first saw you, I wanted to talk to you, to kiss you, to be with you. When I saw that pendant on the floor, I made it my chance.”

She looks down at where her hand is threading through his chest hair. “Bet you weren’t expecting all of this…” She lets sarcasm hide her worry.

“No, I wasn’t.” He tucks a finger under her chin, bringing her gaze up to his. She finds him still smiling, his eyes open and trusting. “But I’m not complaining. This was perhaps the best night I’ve had in a long time.”

“Yeah,” she breathes out, arms wrapping around him. “I’m not complaining either.”

“Well, you complained a lot earlier.” He raises his eyebrow at her, a smile taking the accusation out of his remark.

She rolls her eyes. “That’s because I could barely control myself at a distance, much less in such close quarters.”

She expected arrogance, or pride, but he just looks worried. “Am I allowed to hope that this won’t be a one-time thing?”

She pressed her lips together to hide her smile. “Is your stamina that bad? I could go for anot—” She is interrupted when Killian pushes her against her back once more, his half-hard cock pressing against her.

“Oh, I haven’t had my fill of you, you minx.” He grins, grinding against her clit to make a point and thrilling when she lets out an involuntary moan. “But I meant,” he licks his lips and looks at her with sincerity. “After today? When we’re no longer snowed in?”

Emma wraps her arms over his shoulders, her fingers tracing the marks she left on his back. She tries to find that feeling in her gut that warns her, tries to find reasons not to accept what he’s proposing. But she can’t. There is one thing she knows for certain: she can trust Killian Jones.

“When we’re no longer snowed in,” she starts slowly, feeling the tension that accumulated in his body. “I know a great restaurant for our first date.”

His smile is bright enough to put the sun to shame and she knows she made the right decision when he kisses her like he never wants to do anything else. Because neither does she.

#cssns24 #carolina writes #werewolves #snowed in #ouat ff #cs ff #captainswan #killian jones #captain hook #emma swan #ouat #once upon a time #smut

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anonymouswriter2311 · 3 months ago

Text

Zipper Troubles - Swan Queen

***

The soft golden light of sunset filtered into Emma and Regina’s bedroom, casting long shadows across the room. Regina Mills stood in front of the mirror, one hand holding her dark hair up, the other fumbling with the zipper of her burgundy gown. Despite all her talents and magic, zippers remained stubbornly mundane.

“Emma!” she called over her shoulder, her tone teetering between exasperation and amusement.

Emma Swan, sprawled lazily on the bed in her half-buttoned shirt, smirked as she watched her girlfriend struggle. “Yes, my love?” she drawled, pushing herself up and padding over barefoot.

Regina shot her a look in the mirror. “If you’re done lounging like a teenager, I could use some assistance.”

Emma chuckled and stepped behind her, her hands warm as they brushed lightly against Regina’s back. “You know, for someone who likes being in control, you sure are helpless when it comes to zippers.”

“Just fix it,” Regina replied, though her lips twitched with a faint smile.

Emma grabbed the zipper tab and started to tug—but instead of pulling upward, she absentmindedly pulled it down, exposing more of Regina’s smooth back.

Regina arched an eyebrow, glancing at Emma in the mirror. “Darling?”

“Yeah?”

“Up, dear. Not down.”

Emma froze, a sheepish grin spreading across her face. “Oh. Right. Sorry. Though…” She leaned in closer, her breath tickling Regina’s neck as her fingers lingered at the base of the zipper. “You do look ridiculously good in this dress.”

Regina’s smile widened, her dark eyes softening. “Flattery will not get you out of trouble for almost ruining it.”

“Flattery isn’t my endgame,” Emma murmured, tugging the zipper up slowly, her lips brushing against Regina’s shoulder as she spoke. “Because as good as you look in this dress, I still think you’d look better without it.”

Regina let out a quiet laugh, turning her head slightly to meet Emma’s gaze. “Subtle as ever, Miss Swan.”

Emma grinned, wrapping her arms loosely around Regina’s waist once the zipper was secure. “What can I say? You bring it out in me.”

Regina tilted her head, her voice softer now. “You’re lucky you’re charming when you’re insufferable.”

Emma pressed a kiss to her neck, lingering there just a moment longer than necessary. “And you’re lucky I’m so helpful.”

Regina turned in Emma’s arms, her hands sliding up Emma’s chest to rest on her shoulders. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’re trying to derail this evening entirely.”

“Who, me?” Emma asked innocently, her hands trailing down to Regina’s hips. “I’m just saying we could skip the gala and stay in. Save you the trouble of dealing with David’s awkward speeches and Granny’s terrible hors d’oeuvres.”

Regina smirked, leaning in until their lips were nearly touching. “Tempting as that sounds, I do have a reputation to maintain.”

Emma sighed dramatically. “Fine. But if anyone so much as mentions the lasagna incident from last year, I’m holding you personally responsible.”

Regina chuckled, kissing her softly. “Deal. Now, finish getting dressed, Miss Swan. We’re already fashionably late.”

Emma groaned but let her go, watching as Regina grabbed her clutch and headed for the door.

As she slipped her boots on and grabbed her jacket, Emma muttered under her breath, “Still think you’d look better without that dress.”

Regina paused in the doorway, glancing over her shoulder with a smirk. “Patience, Miss Swan. Behave yourself tonight, and I might let you help me take it off later.”

Emma’s grin widened as she followed her out, her mind now wholly preoccupied with making sure the night ended exactly that way.

***

The gala was in full swing, the Storybrooke Town Hall transformed with twinkling lights, soft music, and enough champagne to keep even the most reluctant attendees in good spirits. Emma leaned against a high table near the back of the room, a glass of cider in hand, her eyes fixed on Regina as she moved effortlessly through the crowd.

Regina was radiant, the burgundy gown hugging her figure perfectly as she greeted various townsfolk with her signature grace. But it wasn’t the gown that held Emma’s attention—it was the occasional glance Regina sent her way, those dark eyes sparkling with unspoken mischief.

“You’re staring,” Mary Margaret teased as she walked up to Emma, a glass of wine in her hand.

Emma didn’t even look away. “I’m admiring,” she corrected with a smirk.

Mary Margaret laughed softly, shaking her head. “You two are cute together, you know.”

Emma turned to her with a faux look of surprise. “Cute? Us? Oh no, we’re way too cool to be cute.”

Mary Margaret rolled her eyes but didn’t argue, drifting off to mingle with other guests.

Emma’s phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out and glanced at the screen.

Regina: Bathroom. Now.

Emma frowned, then typed back:

Emma: Everything okay?

The response was almost immediate.

Regina: It will be if you hurry. I need help with the zipper.

Emma’s grin spread wide as she set her glass down and started weaving through the crowd toward the restroom at the far end of the hall.

When she reached the door, Regina cracked it open just enough to pull Emma inside by the wrist.

“Whoa, hello to you too,” Emma quipped as she stepped into the small, dimly lit restroom.

Regina stood with her back to Emma, hands on her hips, and sighed dramatically. “This blasted dress is trying to ruin me. The zipper won’t budge, and I can’t get it down.”

Emma bit back a laugh, stepping closer. “Didn’t I just fix this earlier?”

Regina shot her a look over her shoulder. “Yes, and you’ve clearly cursed me in the process. Now stop smirking and help me.”

Emma grinned, her hands immediately moving to the zipper. “You know,” she said as she tugged, “you could have asked one of the other women here to help you.”

Regina scoffed. “Please. If anyone else touched me like this, I’d be forced to incinerate them.”

Emma laughed. “Guess I’m special.”

“You’re tolerable,” Regina teased, though the playful tilt of her voice betrayed her affection.

Finally, the zipper gave way, sliding down smoothly under Emma’s careful hands. She let her fingers linger on the bare skin of Regina’s back, tracing light circles absentmindedly.

“Done,” Emma said softly, her voice dropping as her lips brushed against Regina’s ear. “But for the record, this gown’s loss is definitely my gain.”

Regina turned to face her, one eyebrow arched, her lips dangerously close to Emma’s. “You’re enjoying this far too much, Miss Swan.”

Emma smirked, her hands finding Regina’s waist. “Can you blame me? You’re kind of irresistible.”

Regina’s laugh was soft, almost a purr. “Well, then,” she murmured, brushing her lips against Emma’s just lightly enough to tease, “consider this your reward for being such a… helpful partner tonight.”

Emma didn’t hesitate, closing the distance between them for a slow, lingering kiss.

“Let’s hope,” Regina whispered against her lips when they finally parted, “you’re just as good at getting me back into this dress.”

Emma grinned, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Oh, don’t worry. I’ll make sure to take my time.”

***

Emma Swan strolled back into the gala, her stride loose and relaxed, her hands tucked casually into the pockets of her jacket. Her blonde waves were slightly mussed, and her lips curled into a smug grin that stretched from ear to ear. She grabbed a flute of cider from a passing server and took a long sip, clearly enjoying herself more than anyone else in the room.

But it wasn’t just her expression that caught the attention of those nearby. There, on the collar of her crisp white shirt, was a faint but unmistakable smudge of burgundy lipstick.

David approached her, squinting at her with suspicion. “What’s with the look?” he asked, folding his arms. “Did something happen?”

Emma smirked, taking another sip of her drink. “Not a thing. Just… feeling really, really good about tonight.”

David’s eyes narrowed as he leaned closer, spotting the telltale lipstick stain. “Emma—”

“Don’t worry about it,” Emma interrupted, patting his shoulder and walking off before he could ask any more questions. She caught Mary Margaret’s gaze from across the room. Her mother tilted her head, clearly curious, but Emma just gave her a wink and moved on, her grin widening.

A moment later, Regina entered the room, composed as ever, but there was a telltale flush to her cheeks, and her dark eyes sparkled with barely concealed amusement. She glided across the floor with her usual grace, but anyone paying close attention would have noticed the slight hitch in her step.

She joined Emma by one of the high tables, her lips quirking into a wicked grin as she leaned in close enough for only Emma to hear. “You might want to fix your collar, dear,” she murmured, her voice smooth and teasing.

Emma glanced down and smirked. “Why? I think it’s a good look on me.”

Regina rolled her eyes, but the warmth in her gaze betrayed her amusement. “Subtlety isn’t your strong suit, is it?”

“Not when I’ve got you to brag about,” Emma said, her tone unapologetically flirtatious.

Regina shook her head, reaching up to adjust Emma’s collar with a light brush of her fingers. “There. At least now you look slightly less ridiculous.”

“Aw, come on,” Emma teased, lowering her voice. “You didn’t seem to mind when you were putting that lipstick there.”

Regina’s blush deepened, but she held her ground, tilting her head with a sly smile. “I suppose I’ll have to remind you later to behave yourself in public.”

Emma chuckled, leaning in closer. “Looking forward to it.”

As the two of them stood together, their chemistry impossible to ignore, more than a few heads in the room turned their way. Emma didn’t care. For the first time in a long while, she wasn’t concerned with what anyone thought—because right now, everything about this night felt absolutely perfect.

***

The gala was winding down, the soft hum of the band playing a slow, romantic melody that wrapped around Emma and Regina like a cozy blanket. The last of the guests mingled at the edges of the room, but Emma wasn’t interested in them. Her gaze was fixed on Regina, as it always seemed to be.

Regina stood effortlessly commanding attention even among the swirl of conversation. Her dark hair was perfectly styled, and the burgundy gown she wore clung to her in all the right places, the fabric so familiar to Emma now that it almost felt like second skin. The way Regina carried herself—so poised, yet with a hint of something mischievous in her eyes—was something Emma had come to love over the years.

Regina caught her staring and raised an eyebrow, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. She held her hand out, offering it to Emma. “Care for a dance, my love?” she asked, her voice smooth and inviting.

Emma smirked, taking her hand without hesitation. “I’d say I’ve been waiting for this,” she teased, giving her a quick once-over. “You look absolutely stunning tonight. I’d be a fool to let you dance with anyone else.”

Regina’s eyes darkened just a little, her lips curling into a smile that was both amused and slightly suggestive. “You’re already a fool,” she murmured, pulling Emma close as they joined the others on the dance floor.

The moment Emma’s hand found its place at the small of Regina’s back, the rest of the world seemed to melt away. They swayed together effortlessly, the years of shared moments between them making even the simplest movements feel perfectly in sync. Emma’s thumb brushed lightly against Regina’s skin through the fabric, sending a subtle thrill up her spine.

Regina leaned in, her lips almost brushing Emma’s ear. “You know, you really should stop making it so obvious that you can’t take your eyes off me,” she whispered, her breath hot against Emma’s skin.

Emma grinned, her voice low and teasing. “Why? I think it’s charming. Besides, how could I not look at you? You’re the most beautiful woman in the room.”

Regina chuckled softly, her fingers trailing up Emma’s arm as they continued to dance. “And you’re still as insufferable as ever,” she teased, but there was a softness in her tone, a warmth that only came after years of knowing each other intimately.

Emma’s hand slid just a little lower on Regina’s back, her fingers brushing against the curve of her waist. “I don’t know, I think I’ve gotten better,” she murmured, leaning in so that her lips were close enough to graze Regina’s cheek. “I definitely don’t mind getting a little closer.”

Regina’s breath hitched ever so slightly, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she smirked and let her hand rest lightly on the back of Emma’s neck. “You really think I don’t know what you’re trying to do?”

Emma’s lips curled into a grin. “I’m just enjoying the view, sweetheart.”

Regina’s grin matched hers, though there was something undeniably seductive in the way her gaze lingered on Emma’s lips. “Keep that up, and we might just need to find somewhere a bit more private to finish this dance.”

Emma’s heart skipped a beat, the familiar thrill of their dynamic making her pulse quicken. She leaned in closer, her lips brushing against Regina’s in a soft, slow kiss that lingered just long enough to make the room around them feel like it disappeared entirely. “I thought you’d never ask,” she whispered.

Regina laughed softly, pulling back just enough to meet Emma’s gaze. “Patience, Emma,” she said, her voice laced with amusement. “We have the rest of the night.”

Emma nodded, her lips curling into a satisfied grin as she adjusted her hold on Regina, pulling her even closer. “I’ll be sure to savor every second.”

They swayed together in silence for a moment, the music continuing to play softly in the background, the closeness between them a reminder of how far they’d come. It had been years since they first found each other, years of building something strong, something lasting. And yet, every time they touched, it still felt like the first time—new and exciting, full of promise.

Regina placed her hand on Emma’s chest, her thumb lightly tracing the fabric of her shirt as she smiled softly. “I love you,” she murmured, her voice quiet but sincere.

Emma’s heart melted, the words never failing to make her feel like she was exactly where she was supposed to be. She kissed Regina gently, her lips lingering as she whispered, “I love you too. Always.”

They continued to dance, their movements slow and steady, the evening winding down with only the sound of their shared breath and the soft rhythm of the music around them. It was simple, intimate, and perfect in every way.

“Meet me in the car…ten minutes.” Regina purred into Emma’s right ear. “And don’t be late.” She finished before breaking free from Emma’s arms.

***

The night was quiet, the faint buzz of the parking lot lights casting a soft glow over Regina’s sleek black car tucked into the far corner. Inside, Emma and Regina sat in the backseat, catching their breath. The car, which had been filled with heated whispers and stolen touches minutes earlier, now hummed with the comfortable intimacy of lovers who knew each other far too well to resist temptation.

Regina sat elegantly, though her gown was slightly askew, the fabric wrinkled from their earlier… activities. She adjusted her lipstick in the compact mirror she always kept in her purse, her movements calm and deliberate. Emma, meanwhile, was reclined against the seat, her shirt half-buttoned and her hair charmingly disheveled. Her eyes were glued to Regina, her lips curled into a grin that was equal parts satisfied and mischievous. “Zip me up?”

“You know,” Emma began, her voice a teasing drawl, “this is the third time tonight I’ve had to take that dress off you.”

Regina’s reflection in the compact smirked before she snapped it shut and turned to face Emma. “Had to?” she replied smoothly, her tone laced with mock innocence. “I seem to recall you volunteering.”

Emma chuckled, shifting to sit up straighter, her hands resting casually on her knees. “Volunteered, begged, same difference,” she said with a shrug, her grin widening. “But seriously, that dress? It’s dangerous, Regina. You should come with a warning label.”

Regina arched a perfectly sculpted brow, her lips quirking upward in amusement. “Oh, I’m sorry. Was it the dress that led you astray tonight? Not your lack of restraint?”

Emma feigned an exaggeratedly thoughtful look. “I mean, maybe a little of both. But if we’re being honest? You look amazing in it. Still, you look way better without it.”

Regina shook her head, letting out a soft laugh as she reached over to fix the crooked collar of Emma’s shirt. “You’re incorrigible.”

“And you’re irresistible,” Emma shot back instantly, her voice warm and sincere beneath the playful tone.

Regina’s hand lingered on Emma’s collar for a moment, her thumb brushing the fabric absentmindedly. “I suppose I should feel flattered,” she mused, though her gaze told Emma she already did.

“Oh, you should,” Emma said with a lopsided grin, leaning in slightly. “I mean, it’s not every day you make someone lose their mind three separate times in one night.”

Regina gave a soft, knowing chuckle, leaning back into her seat with an air of practiced elegance. “Well, if anyone’s to blame for your lack of self-control, it’s certainly not me.”

Emma tilted her head, watching Regina with that mix of affection and awe she could never quite hide. “Oh, it’s absolutely you. Don’t even try to deny it.”

They shared a moment of silence, the teasing fading into something softer as their eyes met. Emma reached over, her fingers brushing lightly against Regina’s hand. “But you know what?” she said, her voice dropping slightly. “I wouldn’t change a thing. Getting you out of that dress—again and again? Best part of my night.”

Regina’s lips parted, her expression softening as she watched Emma, her guard completely down. “You’re lucky I love you,” she murmured, though the warmth in her tone betrayed how deeply she meant it.

Emma smirked, leaning in just enough that their foreheads almost touched. “Lucky doesn’t even begin to cover it,” she whispered. “But if you keep letting me take this dress off you, I might just start thinking I’m your favorite hobby.”

Regina’s smirk returned, her eyes dark with amusement and something deeper. “Oh, you’re not wrong,” she said softly. “But don’t let it go to your head.”

Emma grinned, leaning back against the seat with a satisfied sigh. “Too late.”

Regina shook her head, a soft laugh escaping her lips as she adjusted her gown once more. “You’re impossible,” she said, but the way her eyes lingered on Emma told a different story.

“And you love it,” Emma shot back without missing a beat, flashing a smug smile that made Regina roll her eyes.

Before either of them could say more, the sound of approaching footsteps broke the quiet. They froze, their heads snapping toward the window just as the unmistakable figure of David appeared. He was walking toward them, his phone in hand, clearly looking for them.

Emma muttered under her breath, her grin turning sheepish. “Oh, this should be fun.”

David stopped a few feet from the car, his brow furrowing in confusion as he took in their disheveled appearances—Emma still fiddling with her buttons, Regina smoothing her hair. “There you two are,” he said, his voice casual at first. “I was starting to think you’d snuck out without saying goodbye.”

Emma shot him a tight smile, still working on her shirt. “Uh, no. Just… taking a breather.”

David tilted his head, his eyes narrowing slightly as realization dawned on him. His gaze darted between Emma and Regina, the disheveled clothes, the subtle flush on their faces. Slowly, his expression shifted from confusion to dawning horror.

“Oh,” he said, his voice cracking slightly. “Oh. Uh… I see.”

Regina, ever composed, offered him a polite smile. “Good evening, David,” she said smoothly, as though nothing was amiss.

David opened his mouth as if to speak, then quickly shut it again, his face now bright red. “Right. Well, uh, I’ll just… leave you two to it,” he mumbled, backing away awkwardly.

From a few feet behind him, Mary Margaret appeared, clearly aware of what had just transpired. She placed a hand on his arm, steering him away. “Come on, David,” she said gently, throwing Emma and Regina an amused smile. “Let’s give them some space.”

As the two of them disappeared into the night, Emma let out a breath, glancing at Regina with a crooked grin. “Well, that was awkward.”

Regina arched a brow, her lips curving into a smirk. “Perhaps. But it certainly won’t stop me from letting you take this dress off again later.”

Emma’s grin widened, the teasing spark back in her eyes. “Oh, trust me,” she said, her voice low and full of promise. “That’s exactly what I was counting on.”

#swan queen ff #swanqueen #emma x regina #emma swan #reginamills #one shot #ouat ff

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