#spooky season bingo

[hollyethecurious]

CS AU: The Witch in the Woods (2/?)

Summary: “If it’s aid of a magical sort ye seek, then you’ll be wanting to find the witch in the woods.”

A/N: This is a continuation of a short ficlet I wrote back in 2021 for that year's Halloweek (link below). When I had the idea of doing a spooky season bingo, I thought it would be a good time to add to this fun little tale so I could mark out the witches square. I would love to expand on this more, but that is entirely up to the muse. As of now, she has given me zero ideas for future installments, however, she is also a fickle bitch, so... who knows??

Although her bday was technically yesterday, I am offering up this continuation to @kmomof4 as a special gift. She yelled at me back in 2021 to continue it and has brought it up every year since. I doubt this will get her off my back, but maybe it'll satisfy her for this year... maybe. Happy belated Birthday, Krystal!!

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

Part Two

Hook stood stock still in shock. Her son was related to the devil who had bound him in servitude? How long had the lad been in Neverland? Was he a lost boy? Or perhaps one of the poor unfortunates the tribe of miscreants kept captive for sport? He would not put it past the deranged brat to torment and torture the boy for his own amusement, despite a familial connection.

Before Hook could voice any of this, a blinding glow illuminated from behind a cloth draped over something in the opposite corner. The witch turned and crossed the room, throwing back the cloth and revealing a tall mirror. However, in its reflection was not the witch or the interior of her meager hut, but a viewing portal, depicting a group of townspeople marching through the woods.

“Right on schedule,” the witch sighed sardonically before spinning around and murmuring an enchantment under her breath.

“What the devil is that?” Hook asked, but his question was nearly forgotten as his attention turned to the items that had begun moving of their own accord, whizzing past his head on their way to a carpet bag sitting open atop the work table.

“That-” the witch answered, gathering a few things on her own and packing them into the bag. “-is an angry mob. Note the torches and pitchforks.”

“I gathered,” Hook exasperated, attempting to duck out of the way while jars, vials, bottles, and sachets smelling of herbs continued to glide overhead. “Where are they headed?”

“Here, I'd imagine,” she replied with an unaffected air in her tone. “Most likely to hang me or burn me at the stake.”

Hook balked at that statement and the way she said it so matter-of-factly. “Come again?”

The witch stepped back towards the mirror and gestured at the figure centered within the frame. “See that man? He came here a few days ago, convinced his infant son had been cursed by the midwife and begged me to help.”

“The midwife cursed his newborn babe?”

“No,” she informed him, shortly. “She did her job and did it well. The issue with his son came later.”

“What issue?” Hook asked, making his way to stand next to her now that the objects in her hut had quieted down.

Her gaze still fixed on the mirror, she forlornly told him, “I do not believe the mother’s milk ever came in. The man said the boy would latch, but never seemed satisfied. He was slowly starving and I told the man as much. I suggested they supplement with goat’s milk and offered them an icing rod to feed him with, but…”

“But?”

The witch’s features tightened from a mixture of sadness and anger. “He said, no son of mine will be fed from a goat’s teet. That be the devil’s work.” Rolling her eyes, she turned back to the work table and began inspecting the contents of the carpet bag. “He insisted it had to be witchcraft and demanded I give him something to break the spell.”

“What did you do?” Hook inquired.

“I gave him some herbs to give his wife,” she said, glancing back over her shoulder at the mirror, her brow pinched and eyes squinted, straining to make out the details of the image. Perhaps attempting to ascertain how far into the woods the mob had traveled? “I did not tell him it was to increase her milk supply, but I did tell him it would take a few days for the ‘magic’ to take full effect. I warned him that if he did not see that his son was nourished during that time that it may well be too late, and unfortunately…”

“It was,” Hook finished, full comprehension of the situation now becoming clear to him. “So… the man blames you for his son’s death and means to see you pay for his ignorance and superstition.”

“It appears so,” she replied, focusing once more on the bag.

Hook gripped the hilt of his sword and raised his namesake menacingly towards the mirror. “I will not let that happen, love. I will protect you. I swear it.”

The witch chortled; an amused snort reverberated past her lips, causing Hook’s head to snap in her direction.

“I don’t plan for either of us to be here when they arrive,” she told him, closing the bag and lifting it from the table as though it weighed nothing at all. “Why do you think I’ve been packing?” Stepping up to him, she craned her neck to meet his gaze and said, “Shall we?”

“Shall we… what?”

Again, she rolled her eyes, another beguiling scoff huffing from her chest as she inquired, “You are a pirate, are you not?”

“I am.”

“Which means, you have a ship docked somewhere close by?”

“I do.”

“And you still wish for me to remove your binding, yes?”

“Aye.”

“And I’ve told you my fee, haven’t I?”

“Indeed,” he answered. “You wish for me to steal back your son from Pan.”

“Well, then…”

She paused and wet her lips, drawing his gaze down to her mouth. If not for the sound of the approaching mob, he may well have given in to the temptation of claiming that mouth… and other parts of her as well.

“I’m coming with you,” she said, stating that which should have been obvious to him before now.

“Very well,” he acquiesced, forcing himself to step back from her so he could make his way to the door, ready to fight his way through the mob if necessary.

“Not that way,” she said, grasping his arm and pulling him back to her. She set the carpet bag at their feet - or rather, nestled it on top of their feet - then wound her arms around his waist. “Think of your ship, Captain,” she murmured in the scant space between them. “Close your eyes and imagine us at her helm. I’ll do the rest.”

The shouts and cries echoing off the trees outside had become almost deafening. It took every ounce of trust he did not know he possessed to do as she instructed. His eyelids slid shut and his grip at her waist tightened. Images of the two of them together at the helm of his beloved Jolly Roger filled his mind’s eye and without warning a weightlessness took hold of him.

His eyes sprang open and he found himself surrounded by a swirl of white mist. Gone were the aromatics of the witch’s hut, replaced by the bite and brine of the sea. It was not a murderous mob, but the comforting snap of sails and lapping of water against the hull of his ship that filled his ears. When the mist dissipated, instead of the soft flicker of candles, it was the moon’s rays glowing off the shimmering waves that illuminated the deck. The same rays that sparkled in the witch’s eyes, her neck still craned so she could peer up at him, their arms still circling one another, their gazes locked in an enchantment far stronger than any mystic might produce.

“What’s your name, love?” Hook asked in a desperate breath, fearful that the slightest sound or sudden move might cause the woman to vanish as quickly as she’d had whisked them from her hut.

“Emma,” she replied on a breathless exhale. “Emma Swan.”

“Welcome aboard the Jolly Roger, Miss Swan,” Hook murmured, his fingers lightly skimming over the rough, woolen texture of her dress. “Captain Killian Jones. At your service.”

Hook had to force himself to not tighten his hold of her when she turned in his arms. Leaning back against his chest, she gently caressed the wheel, her fingers wrapping around one of the spokes. A crackling, the likes of which he had experienced during many a storm where lightning threatened to strike, swept through him and across the deck.

The witch - Emma - let out a giggle tinted with affection and lifted her head to gaze up at the sails. “A pleasure to meet you, too,” she said on a note of fondness, and Hook realized his ship, his enchanted ship, was also welcoming her aboard.

“I think it’s time we set sail. Don't you, Captain?” She made no attempt to move from the spot she currently occupied - the one manning the helm nor the one that kept her pressed against him.

Using the side of his boot, he shoved the carpet bag - still nestled between their feet - to the side and stepped in closer. Reaching around her, he grasped the wheel, caging her in, and gave his ship the command to set sail. The anchor was hoisted, the rigging was tightened, the sails snapped to attention, and the ship lurched forward, gliding through the waters. Once they were clear of the harbour, the mainsail lit up with a glittering sparkle and the hull lifted effortlessly into the night.

Emma gasped and braced her stance, but her surprised reaction was quickly replaced with an astonished laugh of awe and wonder.

“Hold on tight, love,” Hook crooned in her ear, a smirk lifting the corner of his mouth at the wash of gooseflesh that erupted down her neck and across the swell of her breasts. “We’ll be in Neverland before you know it.”

“Will we?” she replied, her voice a bit hoarse and husky, making Hook wish the journey to their destination took longer… much, much longer.

“Aye,” he answered, molding himself to her back and pressing his cheek against hers from over her shoulder as he pointed towards starboard. “See there?” he said, turning his face towards hers, their lips now a hair’s breadth apart. “That’s the way to Neverland. To your boy.”

Emma’s eyes cut to the sky then back to Hook’s forget-me-not gaze before dropping down to his mouth. “Second star to the right and straight on ‘til morning?”

“Aye, love,” Hook murmured against her lips. “Straight on ‘til morning.”

Tagging the Curious Crew: (add to tag list)

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

@kmomof4 @jrob64 @zaharadessert @laianely @booksteaandtoomuchtv

@the-darkdragonfly @undercaffinatednightmare @killianxswan @mie779 @motherkatereloyshipper

@jennjenn615 @jonesfandomfanatic @anmylica @superchocovian @caught-in-the-filter

@winterbaby89 @wyntereyez @stahlop @resident-of-storybrooke @gingerchangeling

@exhaustedpirate @cocohook38 @donteattheappleshook @lfh1226-linda @teamhook

@jackieorioncat @paradiselady19 @snowbellewells @earanemith @ultraluckycatnd

@pirateherokillian @calmjoonie @unworried-corsair @tiganasummertree @captainswan-kellie

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@natascha-ronin @ilovemesomekillianjones @iamstartraveller776 @deckerstarblanche @shadowsaur

@qualitycoffeethings @idristardis @phoenix-untamed @bluewildcatfanatic @bananachickens

[monsterfucktoberbingo]

Monsterfucktober 2024 Bingo Card (Preview)

Hello everyone and thanks for being patient with us as we get ready for the event for 2024!

While the final card with full art is not quite ready yet, we did want to provide at least a preview so participants can start planning their bingo fills. The finalized card, with full art from @gil212, will be posted to the blog on October 1, just in time for the event to start!

On that note, none of the square placements will change between now and October 1, so feel free to start creating now if you haven't already!

For those who need the image ID, here are the prompts in order from left to right, top row to bottom row:

Row 1 - Gorgon, Plant Creature, Satyr, Siren, Bunny

Row 2 - Dullahan, Cyborn, Demon, Selkie, Eldritch

Row 3 - Dragon, Symbiote, Free Space, Sphinx, Valkyrie

Row 4 - Gargoyle, Werecreature, Spider, Naga, Vampire

Row 5 - Mothman, Elemental, Tentacles, Mimic, Kaiju

Any questions? Send us an ask, or check out our FAQ!

[rootedincuteness]

Bingo and Harrow's human added to their collection of Halloween decor today with this handmade witch doll, and they saw a perfect opportunity. Every witch needs familiars, right? They thought they were perfect for the job, and I quite agree, don't you? 🧡

[cadencewishes]

late halloween costume

[kmomof4]

Rainy Sunday CS Spooky Season/Autumnal Bingo

And that's BINGO!!! Hope you enjoy this short and sweet CS meeting! Many thanks to @hollyethecurious for the bingo idea and to @jrob64 for her beta services.

Summary: Killian Jones waits inside a coffee shop on a rainy Sunday afternoon for his blind date, Emma Swan, to arrive.

Rating: G

On ao3

Words:

Tags: Spooky Season Bingo, Coffee Shop Fic

Tagging the usuals. Please let me know if you'd like to be added or removed.

@jrob64 @winterbaby89 @hollyethecurious @the-darkdragonfly @jennjenn615

@donteattheappleshook @undercaffinatednightmare @pirateherokillian @cocohook38 @qualitycoffeethings

@booksteaandtoomuchtv @superchocovian @motherkatereloyshipper @snowbellewells  @djlbg

@lfh1226-linda @xarandomdreamx @tiganasummertree @bluewildcatfanatic @anmylica

@laianely @resident-of-storybrooke @exhaustedpirate @gingerchangeling @caught-in-the-filter

@ultraluckycatnd @stahlop @darkshadow7 @fleurdepetite @captainswan-kellie

@soniccat @beckettj @teamhook @whimsicallyenchantedrose @thisonesatellite

@jonesfandomfanatic @elfiola @zaharadessert @ilovemesomekillianjones @mie779

@kymbersmith-90 @suwya @veryverynotgoodwrites @myfearless-love 

~*~*~

Prompt: Coffee shop on a rainy day

Killian Jones sat at a small table inside the warm and cozy coffee shop, watching the frigid, late autumn rain come down in sheets outside. He’d been waiting a few minutes already - long enough for his order to be called and for the warmth of the fire along the back wall of the cafe to reach and warm him deliciously.

He sipped his coffee and looked back out the window to see a woman rushing down the street. Her long blonde hair was covered by a knitted navy beanie with a puff at the top, and she wore a black windbreaker over a deep red turtleneck sweater. Her features weren’t terribly clear through the rain, but he could see enough that he couldn’t help but hope she might be the blind date he was waiting for, one Miss Emma Swan.

When she rushed through the cafe door, his breath caught. He stared, completely gobsmacked, at the gorgeous woman as she shook her head and her arms, flinging off at least some of the stray water droplets that made her look rather like his dog Roger after a bath, than someone meeting a date.

She took off her beanie before making her way to the counter and ordering. Once finished, she turned around and her eyes scanned the cafe until they landed on him. Killian swallowed hard as a bright, but still somewhat tentative smile broke across her lips as she started making her way toward him. When she was still about six feet away, he stood and scratched behind his ear in nervousness.

“Emma Swan?” he asked, holding out his hand to her. “I’m Killian Jones.”

She took it as her smile widened even more and shook it and sat down across from him. Killian took his seat again as well.

“It is very nice to meet you, Killian Jones.”

The End

~*~*~

Thank you for reading and sharing! I'd love to hear what you think! Don't yell at me too hard, please! I wanted to get a bingo and I figured y'all had good enough imaginations that you could figure out what came next!

[jrob64]

Hook's First Trick or Treat (Reposted with new art!)

A CS Canon Compliant Story for CS Spooky Season/Autumnal Bingo

I'm jumping on the hayride wagon and giving you my first offering for Spooky Season/Autumnal Bingo, the brainchild of @hollyethecurious. Everyone owes her a big thank you for inspiring a fair few people to write some warm, seasonal tales and art for our favorite show and couple. Everything posted for the event can be found in this collection on Ao3.

I also owe thanks to @kmomof4 for checking over this story.

**Extra special thanks to @motherkatereloyshipper for the spectacular manips of Henry, Emma & Killian in their costumes!**

Summary: Hook has his first experience Trick or Treating in Storybrooke.

Rating: T

Words: 2542

Can also be read on Ao3 and ffn

*********

“Are you going trick or treating with us next Saturday, Hook?” Henry asked.

Killian looked up at the boy from where he sat on the sofa beside Emma. The three of them had just finished watching The Nightmare Before Christmas together at the loft, sharing a huge bowl of popcorn and sipping mugs of warm apple cider. Hook hadn’t been impressed with the drink until he enhanced it with rum.

The whole town was enjoying the peace which came with the banishment of Gold at the town line three weeks ago. Mary Margaret, David and baby Neal were currently on a weekend away at a small cabin in the woods, allowing Emma to have the loft to herself for a few days. She and Henry immediately invited Killian over for a movie marathon on Friday night, culminating with the Tim Burton classic.

“Do you mean there is such a thing as trick or treat, such as in the movie?”

“Yeah, but in Storybrooke, we never had it until after the curse broke,” Henry explained.

“Why is it called ‘trick or treat'?” Killian inquired.

Emma reached over and linked her hand with his. “Back when it started, if a child knocked on a person’s door and they didn’t give them a treat, the child played a trick on them. These days, it’s just kids dressing up in costumes and going door to door, asking for candy. It doesn’t really involve tricks any more.”

“So it’s a children’s holiday?”

“Not necessarily. Anybody can dress up, but usually only the kids get candy.”

“Last year, Dr. Hopper dressed as Paul Bunyan and had Pongo dressed as Babe, the big blue ox. They sat outside his house and passed out candy,” Henry explained. “Grandma and Grandpa were Mickey and Minnie Mouse. Remember, Mom?”

“How could I forget? Dad kept talking in that squeaky voice the whole evening, which made Mom giggle. It was cute at first, but got annoying before long.”

“They won cutest costumes at the Halloween party, though.”

“There’s a party, too?” Killian asked.

“Just a get together at Granny’s after trick or treating wraps up,” Emma said. “Granny gives out prizes for cutest, scariest, most original, and best group costume. She makes popcorn balls and caramel apples and has the diner very elaborately decorated for Halloween.”

“So will you go with us?” Henry asked again.

“Aye, it sounds like fun.”

“Awesome!” Henry exclaimed. “Are you going to dress up?”

“He can dress as a modern man, since he already spent hundreds of years dressed as a pirate,” Emma smirked.

“Perhaps your father will allow me to borrow some of his Prince Charming garb,” Killian teased.

“You looking like my father would give me nightmares,” Emma said, wryly.

Hook and Henry laughed. “What will you be wearing?” Hook asked the boy.

“I’m gonna be Legolas, from Lord of the Rings. Wanna see my costume?”

“Of course.”

Henry dashed over to the stairs and bounded up them, two at a time.

“Will you be dressing up, Swan?”

“Yeah, but I haven’t figured out what to wear yet.”

He leaned over and nuzzled his nose behind her ear, then murmured, “Pity you didn’t bring that wench dress home with you when we returned from the past.”

Emma shivered involuntarily. “I’m not sure that would have been appropriate to wear around my son.”

“You could always wear it when it’s just the two of us.”

“Those moments are few and far…”

“Here it is!” Henry shouted, jumping down the last three steps with the costume in his arms.

“The kid is proving my point,” Emma whispered.

Killian chuckled before turning his attention to Henry, who was holding up the costume. “Grandma is going to let me borrow her bow and quiver of arrows, and Ruby loaned me a long, blonde wig,” he said proudly.

Killian got up and walked over, using his hand and hook to stretch out the cloak and get a better look. “It’s quite handsome, lad.”

“Thanks! Granny made it for me. She might be able to make you something before next Saturday. She made this in one day.”

“I’ll put some thought into it,” Killian promised.

“Hey! Maybe you could be Aragorn and Mom could be Arwen. Wouldn’t that be cool?”

“Very, um…cool,” Killian agreed, unused to using the jargon, but pleased that Henry wanted to include him in his costume plans.

“Orrrr,” Henry said with a mischievous grin, “maybe Hook should be Legolas, since he already has the elf ears.”

Emma laughed, while Killian rolled his eyes.

They continued to discuss their costumes until Emma declared it was time for Henry to go to bed. After he went upstairs, Emma and Killian remained on the sofa, talking quietly and kissing. When they were sure Henry was sound asleep, they took advantage of Emma’s parents being absent from the loft.

*********

“Mom, are you ready yet?” Henry called. “All the good candy is going to be gone if we don’t leave pretty soon!”

Emma emerged from the bathroom, placing a large hoop earring into her lobe. “Calm down, kid. Trick or treating doesn’t even start for…” she checked the clock on the wall in the kitchen, “ten minutes.”

“Is Killian coming here or are we meeting him at the boarding…”

He was interrupted by a knock on the door. “Guess that answers your question,” she said, grinning at her son as she moved to open the door.

When she did, she was momentarily taken aback at the figure on the other side. Killian was dressed as the sexy ranger Aragorn head to toe, complete with crown, sword and chainmail armor.

“Wow!” Emma exclaimed. “You look amazing! Where did you find everything for that costume?”

Killian didn’t answer for several seconds, his eyes roaming up and down Emma’s green gown with silver accents. It was nearly an exact replica of Arwen’s in the coronation scene from Return of the King. Marco had even fashioned the silver crown, which sat atop the black wig she wore.

“Swan, you look…words fail me,” he managed to say, obviously gobsmacked.

“Yeah, yeah, we all look great,” Henry grumbled. “Can we go now?”

Killian entered the loft and offered his arm to Emma. “Shall we, milady?”

They trekked down the steps, being careful not to trip over their long cloaks.

“Seriously, where did you find all of that stuff?” Emma asked again, once they were outside.

“Belle let me look through Gold’s shop. I found most of it in there,” Killian said, holding his arm out to examine the chainmail. “Lady Lucas did create the cloak for me, though.”

“Well, it turned out fantastic. I’ve always had a bit of a crush on Aragorn and seeing you dressed like him is…” She pinched her fingers together, brought them to her lips, kissed them, then flicked her wrist and spread her fingers apart as if she was throwing the kiss into the air.

“What exactly does that gesture mean?” he asked.

“Chef’s kiss. It means it’s perfect and I love it.”

“Ah, I see. I’m very happy you approve. Meanwhile, your costume is absolutely magnificent. Did Granny make it?”

“This is actually one of my mother’s capes and a gown she brought from the Enchanted Forest. Granny altered it and added the silver embellishments. It turned out pretty good.”

“‘Pretty good’ is a vast understatement, Love. It truly enhances your beauty. I hope you will wear it again once this trick or treating is over.”

Emma laughed. “Storybrooke doesn’t really have a place where I can wear this type of gown.”

Killian leaned in to whisper in her ear. “It looks lovely on you, but it would also look lovely on my bedroom floor.”

“You know that hasn’t worked out well for us in the past because of Granny’s werewolf hearing.”

“Hmmm. I guess we’ll just have to come up with a way to keep you quiet while you’re in the throes of passion, Love.”

“I’m not the only one who makes noise. If you recall, you’re the one who…”

“Would you two stop being all lovey-dovey and come on?” Henry called over his shoulder.

Emma and Killian exchanged amused glances and increased their pace.

They soon began seeing other costumed townspeople walking up and down the sidewalks. Children were racing up on porches, knocking and shrieking “Trick or treat!” as soon as the doors opened.

Henry joined the fray while Emma and Killian remained on the sidewalk, heads swiveling to take in all of the colorful, creative costumes on both the children and their parents. As they moved closer to the center of town, Emma noticed Killian had become rather quiet. While earlier, he was making astute and amusing observations about the costumes, now he barely spoke a word. She also noted the puzzled and somewhat sad expression he wore.

By the time they reached the clock tower, Emma was beginning to worry about her boyfriend. He didn’t seem to be having any fun and she had to practically drag him along from one place to another. Even seeing Archie dressed as Woody, the cowboy from the Toy Story movies, with Pongo in a Slinky Dog costume didn’t cheer him up.

Henry was oblivious to Hook’s discomfort, too busy sprinting from house to house and business to business with his bulging treat bag. When he ran up to them and breathlessly asked if he could finish trick or treating with his friends and join them at Granny’s later, Emma readily agreed. She was eager to go somewhere private and talk to Killian, hopefully finding out what was bothering him.

Grabbing his hand, she pulled him into a nearby alley. Fully aware that asking him if he was alright would lead to him insisting he was fine, she cut to the chase. “Hey, Killian, tell me what’s wrong. And don’t say nothing, because I can read you like an open book, too.”

He sighed heavily and looked down, studying his boots for several seconds. Then he raised his head and used his hook to gesture toward the street. “What do you see out there, Swan?”

Emma kept her eyes on him for another moment or two before turning to look at the chaotic scene. “I see a bunch of kids dressed in costumes, running around like maniacs, chasing a week-long sugar high. I also see silly-looking adults who dressed up just to please their kids.”

“Do you know what I see?”

“You don’t see the same thing?”

“Aye, but it seems many people, young and old, are dressed as pirates.”

“Yeah, pirates are always a popular costume choice for Halloween. You should take that as a compliment. You know what they say - imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.”

“Look closer, Swan. The majority of them have a plastic hook over their hand.”

Emma turned to face him. “That bothers you?” she asked softly.

He gave a slight shrug. “Wouldn’t it bother you if people made fun of your…disability?”

Emma felt like kicking herself. Why had she failed to recognize the possibility that he would interpret the costume accessory to be a source of mockery?

“Oh, Killian,” she said. “I don’t think they’re making fun of you. It’s just that you’re one of the only pirates they know and you have a hook. I saw a couple of them with red knit hats like Smee’s.”

“A hat is quite different from my hook. I wear it out of necessity. I find it insulting that they would treat it as a source of amusement.”

Emma saw the same hurt in Killian’s eyes that she had seen on a few occasions when he felt inadequate because he lacked a hand. She reached up to cup his face, brushing her thumbs over his cheekbones. “Do you remember when we went out on our first date? When you made that deal with Gold to give you your hand back?”

“Of course. I felt like a whole man for the first time in centuries.”

“When you gave me that rose, I didn’t even realize you were using your hand until my mother brought it to my attention.”

“That only proves you weren’t being very observant,” he grumbled.

“No, it shows that it doesn’t matter to me whether you have a hook or a hand. I see you for the person you are - the sweet, thoughtful, protective, devilishly handsome man who won my heart.” She pushed up to her toes and kissed him, then murmured against his lips, “Besides, you’re very proficient with that hook in certain…intimate situations.”

A grin spread across his face. “You do seem to enjoy me wearing it on those occasions.”

“Mmhmm, and I don’t consider it a disability because you’ve definitely proven you have a lot of ability to use it for very enjoyable purposes.”

Killian ran his nose along the slope of her throat. “Perhaps I’ll show you just how proficient I am with it later tonight.”

Emma bit her bottom lip. “I have been practicing a silencing spell that would soundproof your room. Do you, uh…would you like for me to try it tonight?”

“Aye, Love,” he murmured, nibbling on her earlobe.

“What if it…doesn’t work?” she gasped.

“Well, then, I suppose I’ll have to turn my charm on Lady Lucas to encourage her to ignore what she hears.”

Emma’s giggle was cut short by Henry asking, “Are you guys coming to the party? I want to win best group costume.”

They hadn’t heard him approach and both jumped slightly. Emma’s face reddened immediately and Hook took pleasure in seeing the color spread as far down as the widely scooped neck of her gown.

“We’ll be right there, lad. Just give us a minute to finish our…discussion.”

Henry rolled his eyes. “I’m not stupid. I know you guys came in here to make out. Stop being gross and come on.” He turned on his heel and headed toward the diner.

Emma looked at Killian with a mischievous grin. “My dad’s right - it’s quite satisfying to be able to embarrass my kid. But we better go. If we miss Granny giving out the prizes, he’s never gonna forgive us.”

Killian grimaced slightly. “I’ll be along in a minute. I just need to…”

Understanding suddenly dawned on Emma. She glanced down, then back up, amusement dancing in her eyes. “Yeah, you’re right. I guess it wouldn’t do for Aragorn to win best costume while sporting a very prominent bulge in his trousers!”

*********

They made it to the judging in time and unanimously won the award for best group costume. Once the party wound down, Emma said goodnight to Henry and watched him leave with Regina, gripping his huge bag of candy and the trophy. Then she and Killian covertly left the diner to slip off to his room in the boarding house.

Emma performed the silencing spell to perfection, despite her pirate trying to distract her in the most pleasurable of ways. And Killian was correct - Emma’s dress did look fetching on his bedroom floor, but not as fetching as the woman who had worn it, writhing and moaning beneath him as he showed her new tricks with his hook.

Afterwards, they agreed their lovemaking was the best treat of the day.

*********

Thank you for reading! Happy Autumn!

@qualitycoffeethings @grimmswan @cs-rylie @wyntereyez @kmomof4

@hookedmom @ultraluckycatnd @paradiselady19 @xarandomdreamx @motherkatereloyshipper

@lfh1226-linda @pawshapedheart @vampcoffeegyrl23 @tiganasummertree @bluewildcatfanatic

@eleveneitherway @elfiola @kday426 @julieenchanted-swans @gingerchangeling

@andiirivera @djlbg @jonesfandomfanatic @snowbellewells @anmylica

@booksteaandtoomuchtv @cocohook38 @ilovemesomekillianjones @zaharadessert @lyssapup27

@undercaffinatednightmare @winterbaby89 @jennjenn615 @xsajx @jackieorioncat

@teamhook @soniccat @jarienn972 @softkilly @kymbersmith-90

@apiratewhopines @hollyethecurious @laianely @resident-of-storybrooke @exhaustedpirate

@caught-in-the-filter @stahlop @veryverynotgoodwrites @darkshadow7 @fleurdepetite

@whimsicallyenchantedrose @earanemith @superchocovian @idristardis @captainswan-kellie

@beckettj @killihan-jones

[juni-cannibal-bug]

Happy halloween!!

Have a bingo trick-or-treating!!

My costume is halfway finished!! It'll be posted soon I promise :3

[bigheartedbibliophile]

🎃 October 🦇 book bingo

🎃 October 🦇 book bingo! October 1st = Halloween, sorry I don't make the rules, lol

Join me this month as I try to fill as many squares as possible. Thanks to @bookishfirst for creating this!

@thereadingchallengechallenge does this seem like something you might be interested in doing?

[snowbellewells]

Captain Swan Spooky Season/Autumnal Bingo Entry: "Coming Back on the Wind"

Summary: When a sudden storm blows up while Killian, Emma, and their family are out in Storybrooke's wood camping, they find shelter and Killian tells an almost-forgotten tale to pass the time...

Author's Notes: Thanks to @hollyethecurious for the lovely bingo board to play with! This is the first entry I have managed to create (hopefully there will be more to come before Autumn gets away from me entirely!) for the prompt "stormy seas"

Takes place in a post-s6 future where Killian and Emma have Hope and twin boys as well, Henry stayed with Violet and didn't go on adventures in other realms, and Emma's little brother is named Leo instead of Neal!

** Also available on AO3 if that's your preference**

"Coming Back on the Wind"

by: @snowbellewells

Outside the hunter’s cabin in the forest bordering Storybrooke, the rain splashed wetly against the windowpane. The torrents of water pouring down from the sky showed no sign of letting up anytime soon. Though he would have preferred they have made it all the way back home from their weekend camping excursion, Killian looked out the window without any true sense of alarm as the branches swayed wildly and the wind moaned, but they remained safe and dry in the log structure which was proving admirably sound - if rather small for their extended crew. The ground might grow soggy and some branches might fall, but it was merely an October storm, not the sort of maelstrom that had once made him cower in the corner of his bunk on Silver’s ship as the waves rolled and he feared the vessel would sink before the dawn.

Turning from his vantage point before the sink in the small kitchen area, Killian’s eyes surveyed the rest of the cabin to find his family and their guests gathered in the open living area around the crackling fireplace, which he had watched Emma light with a mere flex of her fingers. It mattered not that they had been married nearly seven years now, nor how often he had seen his wife avert tragedy and summon marvels into existence; he was still in awe of her, and he often found himself watching her with his breath stolen away, struck speechless by his Swan and all that she was.

His gaze was drawn to her once again as he ascertained that all were well and accounted for. Emma was bustling about to bring Hope her stuffed crocodile (a gift from Belle and young Gideon which entertained everyone else simply for how much Killian grumbled about it), bringing a throw blanket for Henry’s lovely girlfriend to drape over her legs where she was curled up against Henry on the sofa, and then she settled too, pulling their twins onto her lap as she did. Her younger brother Leo, now a bright and cheerful preteen with his father’s blonde hair and chiseled chin but his mother and sister’s brightly shining green eyes, along with Gideon Gold, almost eight now, were also seated within the fireside huddle, having been happy to go on an outdoor adventure with the Jones crew and give their respective parents a night off. When she asked who wanted hot chocolate with cinnamon, there was a lively, unanimous chorus of approval that drowned all sound of the wind and rain outdoors, and had Killian chuckling and shaking his head even from across the room.

“I would think you might have already known the answer to that question, Love,” he playfully chided.

Shooting him a scoff and a mischievous wink, Emma swirled her hand in the air once more and a perfect mug of cocoa, topped with whipped cream and cinnamon appeared in the hands of all but him, eliciting squeals of surprise and delight from the younger children. Gideon in particular wriggled with excitement at the prospect of such a sweet treat. Killian knew that Belle favored tea and healthy snacks and seriously doubted that liquid chocolate was on the boy’s usual menu. 

Thankfully, they hadn’t been far from the old, abandoned cabin when the storm had blown up unexpectedly, and they had managed to get themselves and their things inside the shelter before being truly drenched. Still, Killian reckoned it was wise of Emma to make sure their charges were warmed by the fire and set with the hot drinks as well - though he couldn’t resist needling her a bit for it.

Still, his own insides warmed at the cozy feeling of belonging he had in a cabin in the stormy Maine woods. He had never truly known such peace until these last few of his uncounted years of life, only since meeting Emma and their starting their own small family. The contentment spread throughout his being so completely that it seemed to pour from his fingers and toes; Killian could only draw nearer to his loved ones to drink in the moment. Henry glanced up from where he had been adoringly studying Violet’s profile and gave his stepdad a knowing look as he lowered himself to sit by his Savior’s side. And he could only sheepishly acknowledge the lad’s playful glance. Henry knew the man his mother had married could never stay far from her, always drawn like the strongest of magnets - True Love at its finest.

Soon all of the children, and Emma as well, were happily sipping their decadent drinks and savoring the warmth as it traveled down their throats and soothed their stomachs pleasantly. Hope lowered her mug slightly, only to reveal a dollop of whipped cream on the tip of her pert little nose.

“You’ve missed a taste, lovey,” Killian murmured, the affection glowing in his eyes as he reached out to swipe the creamy topping form her face and pop it into his own mouth. 

“Papa! That was mine!” Hope squealed, giggling even as she did so, but hopping to her feet, little fists planted on her hips and the intriguing near-turquoise of her eyes - a perfect blend of his blue and Emma’s green - flashing with playful pique.

“Ah, but I’m a pirate, little sparrow,” he replied good naturedly, using one of his favorite pet names for her. “You’d best carefully guard your prizes when a pirate’s about.”

“But I’m your pirate princess, remember?” Hope wheedled, flopping dramatically against her father’s chest where Killian willingly wrapped her in his arms. “You shouldn’t steal from me!”

Emma burst out with a guffaw at that comeback from their precocious five-year-old. Nudging him with an elbow in the side, she added, “Kid’s got you there, Babe.”

Killian winked back at his wife before turning playfully repentant eyes on his daughter. “A thousand apologies, your Highness,” he offered humbly, with an exaggerated bob of the head for a sort of seated bow. “To what punishment do you sentence me?”

Hope’s brow furrowed as if she were deep in thought, tilting her head while she studied first her father, then turned to consider both her friend Gideon and her younger twin brothers with a mischievous smirk that rivalled Killian’s own. All three boys nodded eagerly, seeming to know exactly what their pixie ringleader was thinking without exchanging a single word.

Henry snorted in amusement at the proceedings, loving that his baby sister could wrap both Storybrooke’s Savior and the fearsome pirate Captain Hook around her little finger with such ease.

“You have to tell a pirate story!” Hope declared with impish glee, clapping her hands in delight while the twins bounced on their mother’s knees and cheered excitedly. “And if we don’t think it’s good enough, then you walk the plank!” she crowed.

“Yes, please, a story!” Gideon chorused from his spot between Hope and her youthful uncle, his intelligent eyes alight and enthralled at the mere suggestion, loving a good tale every bit as much as his mother did. Belle never could resist listening to a well-spun yarn, and seeing that her only child took after his dear, goodhearted friend in this way especially - her most leading trait - never failed to touch Killian’s heart. Though Belle and Gold might still share a home, and though they remained married, her trust had been broken one too many times for even her generous faith to be fully restored. They were meant to be True Loves, and the emotion remained, but it was bruised and trampled like the rose of their famous tale, far too long past its wilting to salvage. She would never deprive the old Crocodile of another son, not after how long he had sought Neal, how bitterly he had regretted failing him, and then lost him to death anyway, but they kept a brittle distance in their home. Belle found her happiness in her son, her friends, and her books, and Gideon blossomed mostly under her care - for which Killian knew the lad was all the better.

Hanging his head, Killian feigned reluctance at having to provide entertainment, though in truth, he had known that tales of his pirating days would be the decree as soon as he had seen that particular gleam in his daughter’s eye. As Emma often lamented wryly, ‘Our daughter is entirely too entranced by the idea of pillaging and plundering.’ Reaching out to gently tap her chin with the curve of his hook, he pulled Hope into his lap again, tickling her stomach once he had her in his clutches until she cried for mercy.

Once she was sprawled across his legs heaving for breath, Killian nodded his agreement. “You wish is my command, Princess Hope,” he replied. “A story you shall have.”

A whole chorus of cheers rang out from all their younger charges, and in truth, even Henry and Violet’s faces shone with interest. To his delight, even Emma moved slightly closer and leaned over to rest her head on his shoulder, as if she were settling in for the show. He felt a sort of pride that he could grant such pleasure with his storytelling.

Pausing dramatically, he watched as Leo leaned easily back against the couch, cradling his mug in his hands, ready to savor the last of his cocoa and listen contentedly. Gideon scooted right up before Killian until his knobby eight-year-old knees touched the pirate’s own, eyes wide and breath practically held so as not to miss a word. Hope, for her part, settled on his lap as if it were her throne, somehow managing to look both supremely self-satisified and guilelessly eager, gazing up into her papa’s face as her little fingers clutched at the charms of his necklace the way they often did when she truly settled in to rest. Little Liam David and Westley Graham, just barely walking now, were equally cuddled up against Emma, and a pang went through him, taking in the whole scene as he drew a deep breath to begin. It did his heart good to see their children so comfortable, at ease and certain of their safety and in the knowledge that they were loved. That was as it should be. But he had been only a year or two older than Gideon was now when all he had known of his safe and familiar home had been lost to him. He hadn’t found such security again for so long it had nearly vanished, forgotten, in the recesses of his mind. Something long cracked and aching was mended in seeing that his own children would never face such doubt and fear.

Closing his eyes for a moment, Killian gathered his thoughts. The room went still as his listeners ceased talking and moving about, focused on him intently. He could again hear the wind whistling outside the little cabin, the rain slapping in sheets against the window glass and the almost soothing patter of it upon the roof over their heads. If he tried, he could just conjure up the sensation of rocking back and forth, carried on turbulent waves - could take himself back to the time when he was a boy at sea. Then he began to speak.

“Once upon a time, long before I was the famed pirate captain you see before you,” Killian intoned, letting his voice drop a bit lower and employing a lyrical rhythm. “I was a young lad who could barely be called a cabin boy, on the ship of another pirate - the dastardly Long John Silver.”

The little boys reacted with shivers and gasps, just as he had expected. Emma, who had of course heard this story with much less dramatic flair, in the tone of an agonized confession when they hid themselves away after his return from the Underworld. They had bared the last of their secrets and all of their souls once and for all and bound themselves back together again. Killian felt her hand flutter lightly to rest upon his own, and he squeezed it briefly in reassurance, letting her known that he was alright. This was a much less raw and bleeding version of events, peeled back to reveal the little good that there had been, even in those awful times.

“Aye, you’re right to be alarmed, me mateys,” Killian warned, waggling his dark brows at them with playful aplomb. “Silver was indeed a ruthless villain - and he ran his ship with little care for youngsters aboard who might be hungry, injured… or frightened of storms.”

He swept his hand out before him, illustrating the expanse of rolling waves under a dark night sky lit at alarmingly frequent intervals by bright, wicked forks of lightning. His audience was every bit as rapt as he had intended, allowing Killian only a moment for a sidelong glance at Emma with a twinkle in his eye.

“That stormy night, all but the night’s watch were in their bunks, and the lad knew he would find no sympathy from any quarter at any rate. His older brother was on the ship with him, but that young man was the only one who showed the boy any consideration, and he was fast asleep, having already put in what would be a hard day’s work for a full grown man, much less a stripling of fourteen. And so, the boy huddled in the corner of his small bunk, crowding against the wall and trying to block out the booming claps of thunder with hands pressed over his ears, willing his stomach not to turn as they were rolled up, down, and sideways by the vicious swells.”

Hope snuggled deeper into his embrace, seeking comfort for herself, empathetic little siren that she was, and unknowingly grounding him in the present, soothing the long scabbed-over wounds this story pricked. As though somehow sensing the boy from the story was closer than its teller let on, Killian also felt the feather-light brush of young Gideon’s fingers come to rest on his knee, offering silent support in his own timid way. He was hardly privy to what his dear friend Belle told her son about his past history or the harsh beginnings he’d weathered early in life, but he sensed in that moment that Hope’s unlikely playmate knew the frightened youth of long ago was now the man seated before him. And he wanted to bolster him in a difficult moment.

It was enough to have Killian swallowing back a lump in his throat. Meeting the child’s searching gaze, Killian offered a smile and nod of the head in unspoken gratitude, to which Gideon beamed and patted his knee with more confidence.

“Though the boy tried to remain still,” Killian continued solemnly, “the storm did not let up. Instead it raged harder until he was sure he would be thrown from his berth to the floor and that the ship itself would be turned on its side and sink into the deep. His thin shoulders shook as he wept, and though he fought to hold back his tears, occasionally a hiccup or gasp for air escaped.”

“It was at that moment,” and here the pirate’s voice, though still rough with deeply felt emotion, grew more musical and light, “when all hope seemed lost, that he felt a soft, familiar touch on his shoulder sliding down to gently rub his back until his strangled sobs eased. It was his older brother, roused from slumber, either by the boy’s distress or the ferocity of the storm, and quick to come to his younger sibling’s aid. The elder scooted into the bunk and gingerly wrapped an arm around the trembling smaller form, shushing and soothing as best he could.”

“Even as the wind continued to wail and howl all around, and as the waves slapped against the hold where they huddled together, the boy already felt much stronger - less afraid - just knowing that he was not alone. And then the elder brother began to hum. It was a familiar tune, a soothing lullaby coaxed from the far reaches of the younger’s memory along with an echo of his mother’s warm voice singing that same melody. Soon his brother was offering lilting words as well, in barely more than a whisper. Both knew the ire which would rain down on their heads if they roused any others, and yet his sibling dared those consequences to end his little brother’s torment. As the near-forgotten song continued, the effects of the wild storm seemed to die away. By the time the end of the song neared, that frightened cabin boy had finally found sleep.”

“What was the song?” Hope piped up curiously. “Can you sing it for us?”

Killian shook his head with a humored huff, having expected no less. Not letting himself hesitate long enough to change his mind, he wet his lips, drew in a steadying breath, and launched into the old tune he remembered hearing in Liam’s murmured, youthful tones. His brother had always told him it was their mother’s favorite - one she had used often to soothe fevers or lull her boys back to peaceful dreams after nightmares. Killian had barely remembered her - or anything about the cozy, cliffside cottage that had been their home - even then, but Liam had held it dear in his own heart and had brought the same feeling to life for Killian.

As Killian continued to sing, voice gathering strength while rising and falling with the notes, the rain outside their small shelter in the woods seemed to wrap around and join the chorus. His audience in the cabin listened closely, drawn into the song that had once been his mother’s, which had comforted him for years as something of his older brother’s, passing on once again to the new family they had made.

And as the fireplace crackled invitingly, his wife’s golden head rested on his shoulder, and he sang the last lines, the sudden storm they’d hunkered down to escape seemed to have enclosed them in a haven instead. The wind blowing the branches against the windows still showed its power, but with those he loved around him, the storm which had accompanied his long held memories finally ceased.

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

@jrob64 @apiratewhopines @anmylica @justanother-unluckysoul @bluewildcatfanatic @xsajx

@tiganasummertree @optomisticgirl @spartanguard @therooksshiningknight @lfh1226-linda

@xarandomdreamx @booksteaandtoomuchtv @goforlaunchcee @stahlop @caught-in-the-filter

@donteattheappleshook @the-darkdragonfly @elizabeethan @undercaffinatednightmare @drowned-dreamer

@gingerpolyglot @gingerchangeling @scientificapricot @motherkatereloyshipper @myfearless-love

@belovedcreation @exhaustedpirate @grimmswan @zaharadessert

[aceforwhatevenisthis]

you: i want more ghost files! me: quiet, we have ghost files at home ghost files at home:

[hollyethecurious]

CS AU: Being Ghosted (1/?)

Summary: "I dare you to sit alone in the Storybrooke Cemetery until after midnight." Who knew a game of Truth or Dare would become an issue of life or death?

A/N: Much thanks to @kmomof4 for giving this a once over for me. This checks off the cemetery square of my Bingo card and the next part (coming soon) will earn me a BINGO!

Rated T for now / Also available on ao3 and ff.net / add to tag list / Curious? Come Ask Me!

Part One

I dare you to sit alone in the Storybrooke Cemetery until after midnight.

Emma Swan hated her friends.

Why couldn’t they have dared her to something more typical of a college student on Halloween? Why not dare her to slam a beer, or kiss one of the random guys that had crashed the party, or go streaking down the quad?

Because they obviously hated her as much as she hated them.

Okay. Maybe hate was too strong a word, but still… she had unfriendly feelings toward them at the moment.

A curse slipped from her lips as she tripped over one of the flat gravestones that littered the area of the cemetery closest to the public park. She’d decided it would be best to not park her bright yellow bug at the actual entrance of the cemetery, seeing as visiting interred loved ones after dark wasn’t exactly permitted.

After traipsing through the treeline that separated the public park from the cemetery with nothing more than an old flashlight and its quickly dying batteries - leave your phone in your car. You have to be completely alone - it was no wonder she’d nearly lost her footing. There was practically no moon and the faint solar powered grave lights adorning a few of the headstones did little to illuminate more than the names and dates of those long passed.

Trudging a bit further into the center of the cemetery, Emma found a tall headstone to rest against. She spread out the blanket she’d brought with her, sat down, leaned back, and crossed her arms over her chest.

“This is stupid,” she muttered, refusing to let the intrusive, ridiculous, superstitious, completely irrational thoughts currently parading through her mind make a home there.

There was nothing to be creeped out about. There was nothing scary or unnatural about a graveyard. All she had to do was sit here for…

A frustrated sigh huffed from her chest. Without her phone, how was she supposed to know when midnight was?

There was nothing for it. She’d have to go back and get her phone so she could keep tabs on the time. There was no way she was staying out here a second longer than she had to, and not because she was scared, or creeped out, or had chill bumps already forming on her arms. Nope.

Leaving her blanket behind, Emma set off back towards her car. She’d only managed to walk a few steps when the flashlight batteries finally gave up the ghost… so to speak, plunging her into darkness.

Slapping her palm against the infernal thing in the hopes of reviving it, Emma let out another expletive.

“The fuck am I gonna do now?”

“Good question,” a voice said from behind her.

Emma screamed and spun around. The face of a strange man, being illuminated by his own flashlight shining up from beneath his chin, had her stumbling backward. If not for his quick actions, she would have tumbled over the back of a headstone and probably landed on her head. Instead, she found herself wrapped in his embrace, having pulled her back onto her feet in just the nick of time.

“Whoa there, lass,” he said, adjusting her in his arms to ensure she was steady. “You don’t want to go joining these poor souls before it's your time.”

Attempting to wriggle out of his hold, Emma straightened her spine and lifted her chin. “Let go of me.”

He did as he was told, staying close for a moment to make certain she was sure on her feet before stepping over to where she had left her blanket.

Gathering it from the ground, he held it out to her. “Best not linger here, love. The cemetery is no place for the living after dark.”

Taking the blanket from him, Emma’s eyes narrowed at the man - the handsome, heart-flutter inducing, accented lilt that could make her toes curl, while giving off an air of danger that just made him an impossibly more appealing type of man. Dismissing the erratic beat of her heart as something simply caused by the fright he’d given her and not the lop-sided smile and smoldering eyes currently fixed her way, Emma hugged the blanket against her chest and demanded to know, “What are you doing here then?”

“I work here,” he informed her with all the confidence and authority of a practiced liar.

Because it was a lie. Or half-truth at the very least. Emma could always tell.

Letting out a quiet hum that expressed her doubt, she clocked the way he pawed at a patch of skin behind his ear before glancing around them as though he expected someone else to make an appearance.

Was there someone else in the cemetery with them?

“Look, love,” he began, his tone a bit tighter and more urgent. “I really must insist that you leave here at once. For your own good. Trust me.”

“Trust you?” Emma scoffed. “I don’t even know you.”

“All you need to know is that if you stay here you’re putting yourself in danger.” Before she could pull away the man grabbed one of her hands. “Here,” he said, placing his flashlight in her palm. “Take this and get back to your vehicle.”

“But you still haven’t told me what you’re…”

Her words fell away, choked out by shock and a fresh swell of fear. When she’d cast the beam of the flashlight after the man who was quickly rushing away, she caught sight of a mound of freshly dug earth on the other side of the cemetery. A shovel was sticking out from the pile and she could barely make out the dark chasm of the grave that had been newly exposed.

Was he some sort of grave robber?

Emma turned on her heel and made a beeline for the trees. Her only thought was to call the police, but before she reached the boundary of the cemetery a cold gust stole her breath away. A shrill shriek forced a ripple of terror to tremble down her spine and a silent petrified scream tried to force itself from her lungs when a ghostly figure of a woman manifested right in front of her.

“Get down!” the man shouted and Emma turned in time to see him brandish a shotgun.

Dropping to the ground, a blast went off overhead and she felt small, hard pellets rain down on her as another shriek pierced her ears.

“Are you alright, love?”

The man hauled her to her feet, and unlike the last time it was Emma who now clung to him, her hands holding fast to his upper arms as she tried to reconcile what had just happened.

“W-What was that?”

“That,” he said softly, his gaze filled with obvious remorse as he confirmed her worst nightmare. “Was a ghost.”

“A g-ghost?” Emma shook her head. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am deadly serious,” he said, brushing the substance he’d fired from his shotgun off her head and shoulders.

“A ghost,” Emma repeated, her mind still grasping for reality as her grip remained tight around his bicep. “Who… whose ghost? How did you…? Is she…?”

“Her name was Cruella,” he told her. “She died in the 1920s and has been haunting the park since her family home, which used to reside there, was torn down in the early 80s. Haven’t you heard the stories?”

“About de Vil Park?”

The man nodded as Emma searched her memory for the tales people often told about the public park. It had been donated by the family whose estate had once been the central landmark of affluence until a murderous scandal had tarnished the de Vil name. The mansion had fallen into disrepair and was ultimately condemned and bulldozed, the land left to the city for public use and made into a park.

Emma had heard stories about people refusing to walk their dogs there, something about the trails making the animals skittish or aggressive. There had been a public health scare when she was in middle school. One fall several kids had been bitten by varying animals - squirrels, a raccoon, and maybe a possum? - and one of them contracted rabies. Most people avoided feeding the animals in the park, fearing attacks, and although after dark activities were allowed, few went there after sundown.

“Is she the reason that animals act strangely there?”

“Aye,” the man said, his eyes casting about and the muscle at his jaw pulsing. “More recently though, she’s taken to tormenting a local woman who unknowingly purchased one of Cruella’s fur coats from an antique store.”

“And you’re here to…”

His eyes cut back to hers, locking on with an intensity that had the same breath stealing effect as the ghost - for different reasons obviously - and causing her to nearly miss the vow he uttered in a low, gruff timbre.

“To put a stop to the bitch. For good.”

“How?”

His reply was cut off by another screech and drop in temperature.

“Bloody hell! Get behind me, love.”

Emma did not hesitate, clinging to his back as the apparition appeared. With practiced skill, he opened the shotgun chamber, loaded two shells, snapped it shut, aimed, and fired a spray of something that made the ghost vanish once more.

“What was that?” Emma asked, following at the man’s heels, his destination becoming clear as they approached the freshly unearthed grave.

“Rock salt,” he answered. “It won’t destroy a spirit, but it does act as a deterrent, forcing them to dissipate briefly.”

“What does destroy a spirit? How does one kill something that’s already dead?”

“You have to salt and burn the bones of the person,” he said matter-of-factly, reaching into a duffel bag and pulling out a canister of salt. “And any earthly object the spirit might be tied to.”

Jutting his chin down towards the grave, the man turned her attention to the ghastly scene six feet below. The lid of her coffin had been pried open, the decaying, partially skeletal remains of Cruella de Vil exposed to the elements for the first time in a hundred years. She’d been laid out in a black gown and once luxurious fur, her fingers and neck draped in jewels, and her hair, still attached to patches of skin affixed to her skull in contrasts of black and white, had been fashioned in a split bob which had been popular in her day. At her feet rested a well kept, white fur coat with black spots, and Emma could only surmise that it was the very coat he’d mentioned moments ago.

A shower of salt crystals rained down on the corpse and coat, followed by a flood of lighter fluid. Emma’s nose wrinkled at the fumes wafting up from the grave, and she finally tore her eyes away from the body when he warned her to step back.

She complied while watching him dig a lighter from his pocket and held her breath when he flipped open the cap and set his thumb against the flint wheel. Another angry gust swirled around them and Emma was too late to call out a warning when the ghost of Cruella appeared once more.

“Look out!” she screamed, but the spectre already had the man by the throat. Hoisting him off his feet, she slammed him against a nearby crypt, his face turning purple from the crushing force against his windpipe. His hands desperately clawed at fingers he could not touch and his eyes began to roll back in his head. With great effort he managed to croak out, “Burn her!”

Emma scrambled about on her knees in the grass at the foot of the grave, knowing he’d dropped the lighter there when the ghost attacked. With shaking hands she flipped open the cap and swiped at the flint wheel futilely a few times before a flame finally sparked. Dropping the lit lighter into the grave set off a cacophony of screeches, shrieks, screams, and wails. Emma covered her ears and balled herself up as a means of protection. Wind whipped around her, the chill of the air and the cries of the ghost causing her to shake violently.

An eerie silence fell over the cemetery, broken only by the sound of the flickering flames consuming Cruella’s corpse and a soft, aching moan groaning from the man as he picked himself up off the ground.

“Are you okay?” she asked, uncoiling herself yet unable to stand just yet, not trusting her legs to hold her.

“Aye,” he croaked, lumbering towards her. “Thanks to you, love.” Rubbing his neck, he looked down at her with awe. “You were bloody brilliant. Amazing.”

She let him help her up, the two of them staring into the other’s eyes, their chests heaving in tandem.

“So, um,” Emma began, pausing to wet her lips and noting how his gaze fell to follow the action. “What now? Is she… gone?”

“She is,” he assured her. “And we should probably vacate as well.”

“Right,” she said, shaking herself from the attraction she should absolutely not be feeling for the ghost hunting, grave digging, creeps about in cemeteries at night, dark and mysterious man.

He also broke away, scratching that patch of skin behind his ear once more before telling her he needed to fill in the grave.

Unsure as to whether she ought to stay until he was finished or leave now, a thought suddenly occurred to her, prompting her to ask, “Um… you wouldn’t happen to know what time it is, would you?”

He paused and pulled his phone from his back pocket to check, then told her, “11:53. Why?”

“It seems stupid now, but, um… I’m supposed to stay until midnight.”

“Midnight? Why midnight?”

Embarrassment prickled over Emma’s skin as she admitted, “I was dared to during a game of Truth or Dare with friends.”

The man laughed and began filling the hole once more. “Truth or Dare, huh? I couldn’t tell you the last time I played Truth or Dare.” Pausing again he pondered the thought for a moment then stated, “Actually… I’m not certain I’ve ever played it.”

With a shrug he set to work again and Emma could not fight off the compulsion to explain herself and why she’d played the childish game in the first place.

“Yeah, well. It’s my senior year of college. I graduate in May and it seemed like a fun thing to do. You know… before I have to seriously start my adult life and whatnot.”

Shut up, Emma. You’re rambling like an idiot!

The man made a sympathetic sound, another shovelful of dirt landing in the now shrinking hole, and admitted, “My adult life began the day I went on my first hunt. I was eleven.”

“First hunt? You mean…”

“Ghosts?” he supplied, when she couldn’t bring herself to finish the thought. “Aye. Although, they aren’t the only supernatural entity we hunt.”

“We? You mean there are others like you?”

“Fewer now than there used to be, but…”

His words fell away and his attention jumped towards the cemetery entrance.

“Fuck,” he muttered, quickly wiping down the handle of the shovel. “Someone’s called the police.”

Emma spun towards the entrance and saw the red and blue strobes of police lights pulling into the parking lot.

“What do we do?” she whisper-yelled at the man who was stuffing his things into the duffle bag, the wiped down shovel cast aside atop the pile of dirt he hadn’t managed to return to the grave.

“Where did you park?” he asked, zipping up the bag and taking the flashlight from her.

“At the park. Why?”

He grabbed her hand and rushed them towards the treeline. “That’s where I’m parked as well,” he informed her. “Less conspicuous that way. With any luck we can get to our vehicles and get out of here without being seen.”

In their haste, Emma nearly forgot about her discarded blanket, but they managed to locate it before exiting the cemetery. They came out of the treeline near his car, a classic 1970s Chevelle, and he wasted no time stowing his duffel bag in the trunk and stripping off his jacket and outer shirt which were covered in dirt.

“I, uh…” Emma began, unsure of what to say, but it didn’t matter. The presence of red and blue lights, preceding a cruiser that was about to turn into the park had her pivoting. “Come with me,” she said, taking him by the hand and leading them back into the treeline.

“What are you doing?” the man demanded in a frantic voice. “We can’t go back that way, they’ll--”

Emma cut him off, her fingers pressing against his lips as she urged, “Help me spread out the blanket.”

With confusion knitting his brows, he did as he was told then knelt down beside her on the now flattened blanket.

“Kiss me,” she said, causing the man to balk.

“What?”

Knowing time was not on their side, Emma grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pulled his mouth to hers with enough force to topple them over. He grunted as they hit the ground, but didn’t pull away when she slid her lips against his and threaded her fingers through the back of his hair. It didn’t take but another quick beat for him to catch on to her plan, and when he did, he threw himself into the ruse with great enthusiasm.

Enthusiasm and passion and heat and… oh my.

His tongue pressed against the seam of her lips and his hips shifted, settling into the cradle of her thighs. Emma groaned and pulled him closer, the taste of him and need of air making her lightheaded. His fingers grazed a path along her ribcage, his thumb tracing the swell of her breast, awaiting a silent cue of consent before he cupped her in his hand and began to knead the needy flesh trapped beneath her bra.

With one hand still held fast in his dark, silken tresses, she raked the other down his back until it reached his jeans, pulling noises from him that made the heat in her belly and throb between her legs intensify. Slipping her hand into his back pocket, she gripped his ass and lifted her hips, grinding against the rigid length that hardened further as something akin to a growl rumbled in his chest.

An honest to God whimper quivered off her lips when he pulled away, but it was quickly replaced by a sharp wanton gasp at the feel of his hot, rough tongue outlining the shell of her ear.

“Gods, love,” he murmured hoarsely, his teeth nibbling at her earlobe while he rocked his hips into hers. “Tell me your--”

“Who's there! What are you two doing out here?”

She and the man both froze at the sound of the policeman’s voice, and Emma had to squint past the shine of flashlights to make out a second officer coming towards them from the opposite direction.

“You heard him,” the second officer shouted. “What are you doing out here?”

“U-Um…” Emma stammered from beneath the man whose attention was set squarely on the first cop. “Truth or Dare?”

~/~

“Let me get this straight,” the officer said, continuing to scrutinize their IDs. “You were at a Halloween party, playing Truth or Dare, and he got dared to come out here. Then a little bit later, you got dared to join him.”

“That’s what the lass said,” the man replied in a derisive tone.

“And what is the lass’ name?” the officer questioned with a smug expression.

“It’s uh…” Furtively, the man cast his eyes to Emma’s before sheepishly reaching up to scratch the back of his neck.

“You didn’t get her name before you--”

“I would have gotten it before we parted,” the man said in an attempt to defend himself and Emma was struck by the truth she heard in his statement.

“Did someone report our vehicles or something?” Emma asked, attempting to throw the officer off his questioning. “We told you why we’re out here. Why are you?”

“Someone called in a disturbance,” the officer replied. “You two didn’t see or hear anything?”

“We were a bit preoccupied,” the man quipped, tossing a smirk at Emma. “What sort of disturbance?”

“Someone dug up a grave and set fire to it. You two know anything about that?”

“Bloody hell!” the man exclaimed, his disgust and shock perfectly believable and authentic sounding.

Emma hoped hers did as well. “Seriously? Who would do something like that?”

“You didn’t see anyone else out here?” the officer asked again, his focus intently set on trying to ascertain whether they were being truthful.

“No,” they both emphatically insisted.

“Are you saying they did this recently?” Emma said, pressing into the man’s side. “While we were out here?”

The man put his arm around her shoulders and held her close, rubbing a soothing hand up and down her arm while casting a nervous glance around them. “And you’re certain they’re gone?”

“We aren’t certain of anything,” the other officer said with a sigh, returning from the cemetery to inform them, “Crime unit just got here. You two are free to go.”

Emma snapped her head towards the man who met her gaze. Before either of them could move, the interrogating officer said, “Hold on a minute.”

Joining the other officer, the cop asked in a low tone, “Are you sure? Don’t you think we ought to take them in for further questioning?”

“They’re just a couple of horny college students, not grave desecrating whack jobs,” the other officer countered. “You’ve got their info in case we need to follow up. For now, cut them loose.”

Emma did not have to be told twice. As soon as the officer handed them back their identification they made a beeline for their vehicles.

“Do you know the diner around the corner from here?” the man whispered in her ear.

“Granny’s? Yeah. It’s a popular hangout. Why?”

“Meet me there,” he said, opening her car door for her and letting her slide in behind the wheel before snapping it shut and heading towards his Chevelle.

His engine purred to life a moment later and Emma warred with whether or not to follow him. Chewing her lip, she watched his tail lights disappear and a buzzing sound pulled her attention to her phone.

Twenty-six texts and three missed calls.

Ruby: Remember. No phone!

Ruby: You better not have your phone

Belle: I hope you’re okay.

Belle: And I hope you aren’t too mad at us!

More of the same from Mary Margaret and August. A couple of texts from her brother, demanding she call the moment she’s back at her car. A few more from Ruby with links to ghost story articles. A missed call from David at 12:01. Another at 12:07. The last from Mary Margaret at 12:21.

Emma made a quick group text and sent them all a message.

Back in my car. Safe and Sound. Is the party still going? Gonna run to Granny’s for a hot chocolate then I’ll come back if you guys are still partying.

With her mind made up, Emma set off towards Granny’s and did her best to ignore the constant buzz of her phone during the short drive. When she walked through the door, the bell chiming overhead, her mystery man’s head snapped up from the steaming mug he had wrapped in his hands and a wide smile bloomed across his face.

“I was beginning to think you weren’t going to show,” he said, reclining back in the booth and draping his arm along the back. “Thought you might have ghosted me.”

His brows danced over his eyes, his smile turning mischievous and Emma couldn’t help but roll her eyes while attempting to swallow back an amused response bubbling up from her chest. Stopping at the booth, she waved off his offer to take the seat opposite him, preferring to stand.

“I almost didn’t,” she admitted, tucking her hands into her pockets and scuffing the tile at her feet with her toe. “Would that have disappointed you?”

The man shrugged and shook his head. “Nope. ‘Cause I would have just gone after you.”

“Oh, really?” Emma said in a dubious tone. “And why’s that?”

Leaning forward, he caught her with a sultry gaze and crooned, “Because… I know how you kiss.” Resuming his previous posture, he added, “And I enjoy a challenge.”

“That would be a challenge, all right,” she replied in a taunting tone. “You don’t even know my name.”

“Your usual, Emma?” Granny questioned from the counter, pulling a grin and deep chuckle from the man.

“Emma, is it?” he cheeked. “Does my saviour have a last name?”

Rolling her eyes again, Emma answered, “Swan. Emma Swan, and I’m no saviour.”

“I don’t know about that,” he countered. “You certainly saved my ass tonight. Twice, in fact.”

“Yeah, well… you saved me first, so… we’re even, I guess.” Turning to the counter, she called out to Granny, “Can you make that hot chocolate to go?”

“To go?” the man questioned with evident disappointment.

“Yeah.” Tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear, she said, “My friends keep blowing up my phone and if I don’t get back they’re liable to call the cops and I wouldn’t want them to blow our cover story, so I…”

“You can’t stay.” His eyes had dropped to the table, an expression of resignation set in his features.

“I was hoping,” she began softly, earning her a hopeful glance from him. “If you’re not busy tomorrow, I thought you might want to get lunch or something?”

He smiled up at her but it was bittersweet in its corners. “I would love nothing more. Truly. But I have another job to get to. It’s a few hundred miles from here, so I have to get on the road soon.”

“Oh. Right. Sure.”

“However,” he said, sliding his phone across the table towards her. “If you give me your number, I’ll call you the next time I’m in the area.” Sincerity poured from his forget-me-nots depths as he declared, “I would very much like to see you again, Swan.”

Emma tried to smother a self-satisfied smile and picked up his phone from the table. “So you know my name and now you want my number, yet… I have no idea who you are.”

“Fair point,” he conceded on an amused breath. Standing from the booth, he pressed in close to where she stood and took her hand in his. “Killian Jones,” he murmured, lifting her hand to his mouth and brushing a soft kiss to the backs of her knuckles. “At your service.”

With her lip caught between her teeth, Emma pulled her hand from his and punched her number into his phone before handing it back to him.

“One hot chocolate with whipped cream and cinnamon to-go,” Granny announced from the counter, a taunting tone underpinning her words.

“Thanks, Granny,” Emma replied, ignoring the woman’s knowing expression as she took the cup and turned back towards the man, who she now knew to be Killian Jones.

“So…” she drew out in an effort to stall a bit longer. “Thank you for a most memorable evening.” Killian chuckled at that and the sound absolutely did not make her heart stutter. “And um, good luck on your next job.” Realization of what that next job might entail had her insides growing cold for a moment and she took his hand, squeezing it tightly, as she implored, “Please, be careful.”

Killian threaded his fingers between hers, entwining their hands and assuring her, “You don’t have to worry about me, love. If there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s surviving.”

The truth in his words did not give her much comfort. How many times had it been tested in order to be proven true thus far? Emma wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

Perhaps sensing her continued concern, he added, “I’ll be careful, Swan. I promise.”

Her back pocket began vibrating once more, a deluge of texts and calls from her friends, no doubt. The buzzing must have reached his ears.

“You should go, love. Don’t keep your friends worrying about you.”

“Right,” she said, forcing herself to take a step away from him. Then another. Then another. “See you around, Jones.”

“Count on it, Swan.”

~/~

One Year Later…

“What do you mean, we released a ghost when we uncovered that skeleton in the wall?”

“Exactly what I said, Neal! We’ve got an angry spirit in the house and we need someone to help us get rid of it.”

“Who the hell is gonna help us get rid of a ghost, Ems?”

With a long suffering sigh, Emma admitted, “I just might know a guy.”

Part Two - Coming Soon!

Tagging the Curious Crew: (add to tag list)

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

@kmomof4 @jrob64 @zaharadessert @laianely @booksteaandtoomuchtv

@the-darkdragonfly @undercaffinatednightmare @killianxswan @mie779 @motherkatereloyshipper

@jennjenn615 @jonesfandomfanatic @anmylica @superchocovian @caught-in-the-filter

@winterbaby89 @wyntereyez @stahlop @resident-of-storybrooke @gingerchangeling

@exhaustedpirate @cocohook38 @donteattheappleshook @lfh1226-linda @teamhook

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@pirateherokillian @calmjoonie @unworried-corsair @tiganasummertree @captainswan-kellie

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[gryficowa]

Boycott!

Now that I have your attention:

[a1raltf4]

Happy heelerween!

[cadencewishes]

real photos of patrick stump holding my cat

[kmomof4]

The Arena Ch. 2 CS Spooky Season/Autumnal Bingo

I made it!!!! My first Bingo offering!!! I hope you enjoy this fluff-fest of an ending to my CSSNS24 fic The Arena! I'm so thrilled to join in this fall writing challenge where all the fics written so far have just been fantastic!!!! You can find the rest of the fics here.

Thank you to @hollyethecurious for the Bingo idea and for making the cards and collection on ao3 and thank you also to @snowbellewells for betaing this fic!! And finally, as always, thank you to @motherkatereloyshipper for her beautiful artwork that she made to accompany the fic last summer. It's still quite appropriate even though we're not actually in the arena any more... you can see her artwork under the cut.

Fic Summary:

The arena.

A place of fear. Oppression. Blood. Death.

A place of shattered hopes and dreams.

A place, for a very lucky few, of hope.

Ch Summary:

Emma and Killian return to her home.

Rating: M (for graphic depictions of violence and smut)

On ao 3 From the beginning / Ch2

On Tumblr

Words: 4600 of 7800

Tags: CSSNS24, Werewolves, True Love, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Happy Ending, Smut

Tagging the usuals. Please let me know if you'd like to be added or removed.

@jrob64 @winterbaby89 @hollyethecurious @the-darkdragonfly @jennjenn615

@donteattheappleshook @undercaffinatednightmare @pirateherokillian @cocohook38 @qualitycoffeethings

@booksteaandtoomuchtv @superchocovian @motherkatereloyshipper @snowbellewells  @djlbg

@lfh1226-linda @xarandomdreamx @tiganasummertree @bluewildcatfanatic @anmylica

@laianely @resident-of-storybrooke @exhaustedpirate @gingerchangeling @caught-in-the-filter

@ultraluckycatnd @stahlop @darkshadow7 @fleurdepetite @captainswan-kellie

@soniccat @beckettj @teamhook @whimsicallyenchantedrose @thisonesatellite

@jonesfandomfanatic @elfiola @zaharadessert @ilovemesomekillianjones @mie779

@kymbersmith-90 @suwya @veryverynotgoodwrites @myfearless-love 

Under the cut, unless Tumblr ate it.

Ch. 2 Homeward Bound

Killian uncurled himself from his mate, his True Love, as the rising sun lit up the small cave they’d taken shelter in the evening before. He and Emma had been traveling together just over a month since they’d escaped the arena where they met - himself a willing captive, while his love had been kidnapped, restrained, and forced to participate in the depraved contest for the entertainment of the now forcibly deposed emperor. 

It hadn’t been long after their escape that they’d decided to return to Emma’s home many leagues to the east on the far edge of the empire. Staying in their wolf forms, for ease of traveling, they had nearly reached their destination at last. Emma recognized the forest that surrounded her small village in which her family’s farm was on the far side. After the very long day of traveling, in addition to the uncertainty of what they’d find when they arrived at her home, Emma had asked to rest overnight still under the cover of the forest. As her mate, her protector, and her True Love, Killian had of course acceded to her wishes. 

Now with the sun well into the sky, Killian lifted his head and turned his attention to the entrance of the cave. The small forest creatures had been awake for some time already, and he could hear their scurrying feet outside their resting place. Once Emma woke, they’d procure sustenance - much easier to do in wolf form than human form since they had no coin between them - and make their way to her home.

He could just detect a difference in her breathing that told him she’d soon wake. He began nosing and licking her muzzle, gently coaxing her into wakefulness. She shook her head and opened her mouth in a jaw-popping yawn before her gorgeous green eyes - that matched the forest outside - blinked open and settled on him. Killian nuzzled his snout, then his entire head underneath her upturned jaw, showering his mate with tender affection as his body curled around hers until he rested his head on her haunches and she laid her head across his back.

They rested like that for just a few moments before Emma raised her head and stood up, giving herself a vigorous shake. Killian grinned at his mate, not yet over the awe he felt beholding her beauty; anytime really, but especially in the morning light that made her white fur nearly blinding. If the gods did decide to strike him blind at that moment, he would have no cause to complain, and in fact, would be eternally grateful that his True Love was the last thing he ever beheld. He’d hold her in his mind’s eye until death parted them, even if that day was a hundred years hence.

Shaking himself as well, he stood and made his way to the front of the cave, peering out into the forest surrounding them. Looking back toward his mate to see if she was ready to head out, he took a great bounding leap into the deep green foliage, Emma right behind him. They raced through the woods, their keen eyes looking out for a deer that they might enjoy before traveling the last few miles to Emma’s family farm.

Luck was on their side, and once they’d satisfied their hunger, they took off toward the edge of the woodland that bordered the village in which Emma had been born and raised. When they finally arrived at the farm, Killian could clearly see that Emma’s fears of what she’d find when she arrived home were entirely justified. The fields of grain that she’d described to him were now nothing more than scorched earth in front of them. Emma stood next to him, still as death, until she raised her snout to the sky and released a long, mournful howl that he quickly joined.

The forlorn refrain carried over the decimated fields, their wolf song expressing their joint grief and sorrow for the destruction of her home. The place that they’d both hoped to be able to make a home for themselves and their future family. As the melancholy lay filled the sky, Killian suddenly heard two other bereaved voices join in his and Emma’s song.

Emma’s voice choked at the unexpected addition - her song cut off as if with a knife - and her ears twitched toward the other melody. Suddenly she streaked away, running faster than he’d ever seen. Killian wasted no time chasing after her and had nearly caught up with her furious flight when he could see two other wolves racing towards them. 

Killian stopped, somehow knowing exactly who these wolves were. Emma leaped at the larger of the two, who’d risen on his back legs to meet her, embracing her as well as could be expected in wolf form. The smaller of the two wolves stood nearby and transformed as the other two joyfully greeted one another, with yips, howls, and rolling around together on the ground. 

A black haired petite woman stood where the wolf had been, and Killian could see the resemblance between his Emma and this woman who could only be her mother. The only difference was their hair color and the age difference. She launched herself at the two wolves still entangled on the ground. Killian felt like his heart was going to explode with happiness as he watched the reunion between his True Love and her parents. He transformed, then waited patiently where he was until Emma and her father both transformed and she turned to him, tears in her eyes and beckoned him toward them.

“Mama, Papa,” she began, reaching out her hand toward him, “this is Killian Jones, my True Love.” The man and woman turned to him, the woman’s green eyes - so like his love’s - also filled with tears.

“True Love?” she asked, a watery smile lifting her lips.

As Killian moved toward them, he realized that her parents were utterly unconcerned with the state of their clothing, but he still felt terribly exposed with nothing on but the ragged breaches he’d been wearing the day of the contest. He was glad that Emma still had the cloak he’d given her wrapped around her. He’d hate for her father to see the rags she now wore.

“Aye,” Killian replied, coming close and taking Emma’s outstretched hand. “Emma was the prize in the arena I was competing in, and as soon as our eyes met, my wolf returned. I’d lost him when I was but a lad, when an angry shopkeeper cut off my hand.” He looked down at his restored limb, still not used to seeing it after living so many years without it. Emma’s mother grasped it firmly and pulled him to her, embracing him fiercely. He hadn’t felt the love and acceptance of a mother in almost fifteen years, and he wasn’t terribly surprised when his own eyes filled with tears of their own.

Finally releasing him, she introduced herself and her husband to him. “I’m Mary Margaret and this is David. We are so very pleased to meet you, Killian Jones.”

“You’ve brought our daughter home to us,” David said, placing his hand on his shoulder. “There’s nothing we could say or do to repay the kindness you’ve shown us.”

“You owe me nothing,” Killian replied. “We wanted nothing more than to come here and find a home where we could raise a family.”

“After we woke to the fire,” Mary Margaret began, turning questioning eyes onto her husband when he gently placed his hand on her arm.

“We should probably return to town to find a place to stay before exchanging stories,” he suggested. “It will take some time before we’ll be able to rebuild and return here for good,” he continued, turning sorrowful eyes at the fields before them.

“Of course,” his wife agreed. They all turned toward the small village in the distance and began walking as Mary Margaret continued her story. “We knew the tales. The brutality of Arthur’s rule and how he wouldn’t hesitate to steal, kill, and destroy to keep his subjects in line. We just never really thought he’d bother with us all the way out here, so far away from the capitol. But when the fire woke us, and after it was out there was no trace of Emma, we knew what had happened. That she’d been taken as either an addition to his harem or as a prize for the arena. With the farm destroyed, we set out to search for her. We were willing to pay any price, do anything to bring her home with us once we found her. We hadn’t found any trace of her at the other three arenas and were finally on our way to the capitol when we heard a rumor that Arthur had been attacked and killed by a wolf in the arena.” 

Mary Margaret paused and brought her hand to her chest as more tears filled her eyes, a single drop falling down her cheek. David wrapped his arm around her shoulder and drew her close to his side in comfort, and Killian and Emma smiled gently, encouraging her to continue.

“When we heard the tale,” she resumed after a deep fortifying breath, “we couldn’t help but hope that perhaps Emma was the wolf, and since Arthur was dead, she’d be able to escape and come home. So instead of continuing toward the capitol - that was still about a week’s travel away from where we were - we decided to come home, in the hopes of finding Emma here.”

“Killian was the wolf in the arena,” Emma supplied. “I was the prize, but they’d put a magic bracelet on me that I couldn’t remove and that kept me from changing.” She squeezed Killian’s hand in affection and looked up at him, her eyes filled with love. “When our eyes met before he transformed…” she paused, her emotions overcoming her. Killian squeezed her hand in support and after another moment or two, she was able to continue. “I felt a connection with him that I’d never known before. None of the others even registered in my mind. I noticed he only had one hand, so I was stunned when he transformed, and if I hadn’t had that bracelet on, I would have joined him. But he took care of all the other competitors and then attacked Arthur. When he came back, he had both hands. So I knew the only way that could have happened was if he was my True Love. He wouldn’t have been able to transform with only one.”

By this time they had reached the outskirts of the village and were making their way down the main street toward the inn. When they entered, Killian looked around, taking in the rough but clean interior with an older woman behind the counter. As soon as her eyes landed on them, her rather severe countenance broke into a brilliant smile full of joy and affection.

“David, Mary Margaret, Emma,” she cried, coming around the counter toward them. It was only moments before Emma and her parents were engulfed in an enthusiastic and affectionate embrace that they all eagerly returned. “When you were all gone after the fire, we feared the worst. And it’s been so long now, we’d nearly lost hope that you’d ever return.”

“Emma was kidnapped to be a prize in the arena,” David began, “and we set out to look for her. When we heard about Arthur’s death, we came home, hoping that Emma would soon be returned to us.” He turned to Killian, and brought him forward toward the old woman. “Killian is Emma’s True Love and brought her home. He was the wolf that killed Arthur. Killian, this is Granny Lucas.”

Killian nodded in greeting. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Lucas,” he said.

“Oh, no no no, Killian,” Mary Margaret interjected before anyone else could. “Everyone calls Granny Lucas Granny, and you’ll be expected to do the same.”

Granny nodded in agreement, her stern countenance back in place until Killian nodded in acquiescence. “A pleasure to meet you, Granny,” he corrected himself.  

At his words, he found himself caught up in just as fierce a hug as his companions had enjoyed only a few minutes before. Not used to such blatant gestures of affection, it took him a moment to reciprocate. Once she released him, David spoke again.

“We all just arrived back at the farm today.” Granny was obviously aware of the condition of their home, because the joy on her face abruptly turned to sorrow.

“There really wasn’t anything left for you to come home to,” she commiserated. Just as quickly, her visage turned serious and determined. “You know that you have a place here as long as you need it. All of you have a place here until you can rebuild.”

“Thank you, Granny,” David replied.

The lovable old woman directed David and Mary Margaret to a table and bustled Emma and Killian up the stairs to get decent clothes for them. Once she brought them back down in borrowed clothes from her granddaughter Ruby and her husband Graham, she sat them down at the table with David and Mary Margaret, and only a few minutes later, brought out a hearty noontime meal and fresh baked bread for the family. Business was steady, but not so busy that Granny and Ruby were not both able to visit with the small family as they enjoyed the warm food. Emma and Killian repeated their story whenever Granny and Ruby joined them and filled in the gaps that hadn’t yet been disclosed to David and Mary Margaret. Once they were finished, Mary Margaret responded.

“So you haven’t actually been wed yet?”

Emma and Killian cast shy glances at each other before Killian answered for them. 

“No, actually,” he said. “We left the arena in our wolf forms immediately, and I just followed her. She told me that she wanted to return home after being away for almost a year, and since I haven’t had a home since my mother died fifteen years ago, I was more than willing to go with her. It was much easier to travel in our wolf forms. We didn’t have to worry about paying for lodging or cooking meals - so that’s what we’ve done. Now that we’re here, and ready to settle down, we’ll be in our human forms.”

“We must arrange a wedding at once,” Mary Margaret enthused. The joy was clear on her face, and Killian could feel his cheeks heat as he glanced at his love and saw the same soft and loving smile on her face as he was sure was on his. “After losing you a year ago,” Mary Margaret continued, “I despaired of ever seeing you in love, married, and with a family of your own.” She reached across the table and grasped Emma’s hand, squeezing it tightly. “Now that you’re here - that we’re together - we mustn’t waste a day.”

Killian looked down at his love and with that silent communication between them - further proof of their True Love connection, as if they needed one - expressed their own desires for that very thing. Staying in wolf form since the day they met, they’d not consummated their relationship in any way, and now that they were truly home, the thought of making love with his True Love made his breath catch.

“Archie can perform the ceremony,” Ruby said, Granny, and Mary Margaret voicing their agreement.

“And I can prepare a feast the village hasn’t seen since your wedding, Ruby,” Granny added. She rose quickly to go find Graham so she could send him to the forest to bring back the required meat for the planned celebration that evening.

Emma rested her head on Killian’s shoulder and sighed in contentment as he pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. Once the rest of their meal was consumed, Mary Margaret and Ruby took Emma upstairs to prepare her for the wedding, and David and Killian left to join Graham in the forest.

Killian pulled David aside, not wanting to be overheard.

“We could bring down a few deer much easier as wolves than humans,” he began, when David interrupted him.

“Graham is a wolf too,” he informed him. Killian gasped in shock. Never meeting another wolf in his entire life, and then in the space of a month, meeting his True Love - who was also a wolf - her parents who were both wolves themselves, and now Graham… It was completely overwhelming. 

David grinned. “Our entire village is made up of wolves. That’s why we’re on the very edge of the empire.”

Killian couldn’t disguise his surprise if he tried. His mouth hung open, and it took a moment before he could think of anything coherent to say in response. “Before Emma, I’d never met another wolf. Besides my father,” he added quickly.

David squeezed his shoulder. “You’ll be in very good company here, Killian.”

Killian swallowed hard and smiled at his love’s father. “Thank you.”

David pulled him into a quick but tight embrace that expressed everything they couldn’t yet put into words. Pulling away, they both transformed and turned to see a tawny wolf moving silently through the trees. Hunting as part of a pack was an entirely new experience for Killian, and it took almost no time at all to bring down several deer, enough to feed the entire village. 

Once the men got the animals to the village, dressed, and ready for cooking, delicious smells were already permeating the air around the inn. There was an air of celebration in the village with David greeting his friends and neighbors he hadn’t seen in a year and telling them Emma and Killian’s story.

Hours later, Killian stood in the middle of what would be his and his bride’s room for their wedding night, dressed in the finest clothes he’d ever worn, even if they were borrowed from Graham. His head was almost spinning. His life had turned completely around in the space of a month, and this day alone, it had changed in even more unexpected ways. He was about to wed his True Love. The one fated for him by the gods, whom he’d never really believed he’d meet. He was about to join his life to hers, she would join hers to him, and they would join her family in a village full of wolves to raise a family of their own. Tears filled his eyes as David approached him and clasped his shoulder.

“I have nothing to say,” he began, his own eyes shining. “Seeing you together, it is clear to me that there is no one better suited for my daughter than you, Killian Jones. I know that you will love her, provide for her and the family you raise together, cherish her, and honor her to the end of your days, and there is nothing that I could desire more. Welcome to the Swan family, son.”

David pulled Killian to him in a tight embrace that Killian returned with fervor.

“Thank you for accepting me into your family,” he murmured into his shoulder.

It was a long moment before David released him with a beaming smile. 

“Let’s get you married!” he exclaimed happily, and Killian couldn’t agree more.

They came down the stairs and met Graham. The younger men exited the inn, turning toward a beautiful multicolored tent erected a little ways down from the establishment, where stood a thin man with curly red hair, that he assumed must be Archie who would perform the ceremony. Killian and Graham approached him, Killian barely noticing all the people gathered to celebrate the nuptials. 

As soon as they took their places, they turned back toward the inn to see David and Mary Margaret, with Emma in between them, emerge from the building. Killian caught his breath at his bride’s beauty. She wore a long cream gown that, in Killian’s eyes, put the setting sun to shame. Her golden hair only added to the glow that surrounded her. In that moment, everything and everyone else faded away, his full attention on his beautiful bride. 

The ceremony itself was brief, with both of them making vows to love, honor, and cherish one another until death parted them. Once their vows were spoken, the villagers cheered as they sealed their union with a tender kiss. Killian didn’t think he’d ever forget the deep love and happiness in Emma’s eyes as they parted, knowing they reflected exactly the same thing in his.

Granny, Ruby, and Mary Margaret immediately began setting out the prepared feast for the village as everyone else surrounded the newly married couple. After the meal was consumed and everyone was happy and relaxed, David sent Killian a significant look that he had no trouble interpreting. 

“Now’s your chance to leave,” David told him. “Everyone is still enjoying themselves and no one will miss you. The other men and I will be talking about rebuilding our home, and,” he continued when Killian opened his mouth to interrupt, “a home for you and Emma will also be discussed, I can assure you.”

“Thank you,” Killian replied. He turned to Emma to see joyful anticipation dancing in her gaze. He took her hand and brought it to his lips, placing a gentle kiss on the knuckles. “Shall we, my darling one?” he asked.

“We shall, my husband,” she breathed.

With those words, he led her inside the inn and up to their room. He closed the door firmly behind him and turned to his bride. She was ethereal in her beauty. More breathtaking than anything in heaven or on earth. The thought that she was now his nearly brought him to his knees in profound gratitude.

“When they took me, I thought my life was over,” she murmured. “But instead it led me to you, my True Love.” Tears filled her eyes, and he silently took her in his arms and held her close.

“I never thought I’d actually find my True Love,” he replied softly. “When my mother told me my wolf was gone when I woke from my fever, she told me not to give up hope. That I would find her someday.”

He cupped her chin in both his hands and just stared into her eyes for a moment, getting lost in the love and joy he found there. Impatience tinged with mischief filled her gaze as she refused to wait any longer. She drew him down to her lips and claimed him with all the strength of the wolf inside of her. Killian chuckled against her lips and opened his mouth to her seeking tongue.

When their tongues met, a contented sigh fell from his love’s mouth, that he took full advantage of. The kiss at their wedding had been their first, and it had whetted their appetite for a full conflagration at the earliest opportunity.  A groan passed from his lips that she eagerly reciprocated as both of their hands roamed, utterly delighted to finally be able to touch one another.

Killian’s hands shook as he pulled back from Emma and gently pushed the gossamer fabric of her gown off her shoulders so that it cascaded in a whispered ripple to the floor. The moment she was bared to him, he drew her back into his embrace, his kiss possessive and passionate, showing her without words how much he loved her. 

Now that he held her in his arms again, she began her own explorations, undressing him quickly and efficiently until he stood naked before her. Her roaming hands and kisses were driving him mad with desire, and the wolf inside of him howled in enjoyment of her touch. 

The intrinsic True Love connection between them only heightened their passionate pleasure as they lay down together on the bed. Killian had never laid on anything so soft and comfortable as a human before - the closest he’d ever come to it was a soft pile of leaves he’d rest upon as a wolf - and the twin sighs that came from him and his love made them both grin in amused delight before bursting into laughter.

“It’s so lovely to have an actual mattress to sleep on again,” she observed once their mutual mirth faded. “It had been so long, I nearly forgot what it felt like.”

“I’ve never laid on anything so luxurious, so soft,” he replied, ducking his head slightly when her eyes grew round with surprise. Even with their True Love connection, they really hadn’t delved much into their respective pasts in the last month as they journeyed, so Killian worried for a moment that as he opened up to her just this tiny bit about his past, it might cause her to look at him differently. But as he looked into her eyes again, all he saw was sincere admiration and the same love he’d become accustomed to over the last weeks as they traveled.

“We’ll have the same, or even better, once our own home is built, Killian,” Emma promised him, a teasing smile now lifting the corner of her lips. “But for now, I think we should put this mattress to good use. Don’t you?” she asked.

His own smirk touched his lips. “I do,” he agreed, before claiming her lips once more. His touch grew bolder, his kisses more passionate, and she responded in kind until they couldn’t stand to be two individuals any longer. Killian positioned himself between her legs and made them one with a single stroke, a cry of ecstasy pulled from Emma’s lips that Killian would never tire of hearing as long as he lived.

She clenched around him as he drove himself into her, pushing them both toward that precipice that was just out of reach. Emma’s legs trembled, and Killian knew she was closer than he was, so he reached down and rubbed circles around her hardened nub until with a shattered cry she fell into the abyss of pure pleasure a second time, dragging him along with her.

It was several minutes before he was able to move and roll off of his love, drawing her into his arms as their bodies cooled. He kissed her forehead, tasting the sweat on her skin, and smiled tenderly at her.

“I love you, Emma Swan,” he whispered.

“Jones,” she corrected him, her eyes already shut and with a sleepy but sated smile on her face.

“Jones,” he agreed, smiling fondly down at her. “I’m so thankful that I am yours and you are mine.”

“Hmmmm,” she said, almost too quiet to hear, “me, too.”

“I will give you all of my life,” he vowed. “I will always be by your side. To the end of the world, or time.”

Emma didn’t respond, her breaths already evened out into the gentle cadence of sleep. As Killian drew her closer into his embrace, he was finally able to believe that this wasn’t a dream - the dream of a homeless street urchin who had despaired of ever finding true happiness, outside of his own death. 

He finally had a home. A home with Emma. A home with her family. A home within this village of wolves, just like him. He didn’t think it was possible to be happier, until the thought crossed his mind of the future children they’d raise together. But if the gods never blessed him in that way, he at least had his newfound family, and he’d be forever grateful for that.

His happy and contented thoughts ushered him into the sweetest dreams he’d ever known, and they both slept peacefully until the morning light, signaling the start of their new life. 

Together. Never to part. 

~*~*~

Thank you for reading and sharing! I'd love to know what you think!

[princess-pathetic-112898]

Made a bingo card for my current favorite horror movies since we’re coming up on spooky season.

Here’s a blank template if you wanna do your own!