#the way I don’t go in the yard until it’s 9pm/ sunset in summer

[lilidawnonthemoon]

[puppymidnight]

The Night Stalker.

A short horror story I wrote based on this piece of artwork created by the amazingly talented @dappermouth!

I grew up living in a small town, population… I’d say about 15000 roughly. Give or take a few people. The whole place had a very bright and mellow charm about it growing up, everyone was slightly reserved but polite. I guess everybody just liked to keep to themselves. Despite the rumbling of small earthquakes now and then and the common deer collisions with cars it’s very peaceful most of the time. The town is enveloped in a very beautiful scenery, so I can thank mother nature for giving me a good home. We were surrounded by tall mountains which would be washed with an orange glow from the sunset on a clear days evening, and west of the town was a big forest that panned out to a big lake.

I used to go swimming in the lake during every day of spring and summer as a kid, which was probably my favourite thing to do, sometimes with my classmates and my best friend Jimmy as well. The best part had to be when I would sit at the deep end  and let my legs dangle over the edge, that’s where the all the stringy moss would brush against the bottom of my feet. My parents always told me to come back when it started to get dark because of two reasons, the first being general safety for your child as parents do. The second being the town curfew. This pretty much applied to everyone who lived in the town but the rule was made clear regularly in school and community centre meetings; Never go outside when the sun has set.

For a long time during my childhood I never really understood why the rule was there, or how none of the grown ups would talk about it. The only other rule they really enforced was to drive slow to shorten road accidents with the wildlife, but that’s understandable.  My mother would tell me tales about this creature that lurks around the streets at night called the Night Stalker, and that it would eat all the naughty kids that disobeyed their parents. For the longest time it gave me chills and was definitely some good nightmare fuel for a while, but like most childhood things you grow out of that stuff eventually. It wasn’t until I was about 12 years old that I started getting curious about this curfew and what it really meant.

It all started one day when this girl called Nancy in my maths class didn’t show up, which was weird because she never missed a day of school, or even turned up late for that matter. None of the other kids really knew what was going on until a few days later when the head teacher announced to everyone that Nancy had drowned in the lake. Apparently she tried to go swimming at night without any arm bands, and because of her carelessness she couldn’t stay afloat. At first I didn’t think of it much because only a handful of people would go missing every year, so it wasn’t that big of a deal. But the more I thought about it the more it didn’t make any sense.

For starters, Nancy would never break any rules whether it was school rules or the curfew. Not even the grown ups would go out at night. Also she was a great swimmer, I’ve swam with her in the lake a few times and she could swim far out to the deep end and back again without breaking a sweat. I’ve never seen her use arm bands or pool floaties ever. The only thing she really did apart from swimming and doing homework was have sleepovers with her best friend Beth so the whole thing was very confusing. I tried talking to her about Nancy and what happened but she wouldn’t speak about it, which made sense because she just lost a friend.

I asked around some of Beth’s close friends to find out more but all I got from them was that Nancy sneaked out of her home to have a ‘super secret sleepover’ that they were planning, but never showed up. Which was odd considering Nancy and Beth lived only 2 blocks away. One thing that I did find unsettling was overhearing some of the older teenagers talking about it, apparently one of them saw the body when it was being pulled out of the lake. They said that the body was completely crushed and broken like it was hit by a car or truck, which is weird because the town never really gets that much traffic. Over the following weeks I contemplated the whole thing over and over in my head, everything was a blur because my mind was always somewhere else.

Eventually I told Jimmy about everything that I overheard and the thoughts I was having, and we ended up talking about it for hours. He theorised that Nancy’s death was somehow connected to the town’s curfew, which I was sceptical about at first but made sense the more I thought it over. Soon we hatched a plan during lunch break to figure out what really happened. I invited him to a sleep over at my place the following Sunday, my mother made lasagne and we stayed up watching cartoons. After going to bed at 9pm we slept for roughly 5 hours until we were sure that my parents were asleep. Jimmy had set an alarm on his watch so he could wake me up. We got dressed into our outdoor clothes and grabbed some flash lights that he had packed the day before and I pulled back the curtains, slowly opened the window and quietly jumped into one of the hedges below. Jimmy soon followed and we both turned on our flash lights.

The sky was an eerie dark blue and all of our surroundings were caked in a thick fog, we could barely see 5 yards ahead of us. Everything was completely silent, no birds chirping or insects buzzing. It was like we were the only two people in town. We decided to walk down the path way towards the blocks near Beth’s place to see if we could get a clue. The town seemed so ghostly and chilling, quite the opposite of the bright and mellow feeling you get during the day time. Every step I took was amplified by the deafening silence that cloaked the streets, even breathing seemed like a soft shout with every exhale. After about an hour of walking around the town we realised that we were nowhere near Beth’s place, Jimmy exclaimed that we were obviously lost and that we should keep walking around.

After a few more minutes we eventually made it to a small four way intersection around the centre of the town, the traffic lights softly glowing through the fog as if my eyes defocused everything I could see. I was trailing the light of my torch around the path when I noticed something rustling in a nearby bush. The sound was crisp and clear as both myself and Jimmy jerked our heads to whatever that sound was. We stared at the bush as it continued to rustle for another minute before something crept out if it. It was a cat, black and white with silver whiskers and eyes as blue as the sky itself. I immediately started to follow the cat so I could pet it, but it had no intention of slowing down whatsoever.

I followed it into an alleyway and behind a bin and started stroking its head as it started to purr. “Dude, come back I can barely see you!” Jimmy yelled, his voice echoing through the alley. I didn’t bother to turn round, or even respond. That was the last thing he ever said to me. In the distance a soft and subtle rumbling noise made the ground rumble. The rumbling grew louder and louder, faster and faster as the ground started to shake more violently. I held the cat in fear and buried my face into it’s fur as I had no idea what was happening. The rumbling got louder and closer until a blood-curdling scream pierced through the rumbles, followed by a crippling crackling slam, and then silence.

I let go of the cat as it ran off further into the alleyway and disappeared round the corner, my whole body still trembling with fear. All I could hear was the thumping of my heart pounding throughout my head and the heavy exhausted breathing escaping my lungs. I slowly turned round to see that I dropped my torch near the entrance of the alleyway so I walked over and picked it up. It flickered and died on me, cursing under my breath from the stress I placed the torch in my back pocket and stared at the ground in shock. Once my eyes were focused again, I noticed the beam of a torch was pointing at my chest. For a split second I was filled with joy, as if everything would be alright. But when I looked up, my body went cold and my hair stood up on end to what I saw in front of me.

A deer, with legs as tall as a truck and body as big as a house, with eyes glowing like headlights, antlers covered in stringy moss dripping with water, standing in front of the mangled crushed body of my friend Jimmy. The Night Stalker. It stared right at me, right into my eyes, as if our vision was locked together in a stalemate. My body was frozen with fear, cold tears running down my eyes and mouth wide open. I wanted to scream, but nothing would come out. For what seemed like an eternity the creature eventually turned its head away, grabbed Jimmy’s body with it’s mouth, and walked away.

Then everything faded to black. I was found unconscious in the alleyway the next morning by some of the locals and was immediately taken to hospital where I woke up. The months were a blur after that. I never really went outside any more, or even went to school. I did all my homework in my room, curtains closed and bedside lamp always kept on. My parents eventually told me the truth about the curfew, and the Night Stalker.

The town has been cursed for decades. Nobody knows how long, but the same event takes place every night. For every deer that is struck dead in the town, the spirits of the deceased deer comes out when it’s dark and takes a life in return. Those who venture out when it’s dark are crushed like a car and their bodies taken to the lake where they sink to the bottom, to be later fished out by the locals in the following days. That’s how the town used to dispose of deer corpses during the 1900′s. I still have nightmares to this day, every time I close my eyes all I see is theirs staring back at me. I don’t think I’ll ever leave my home. I don’t think the nightmares will stop…

[charmingturkeysandwich]

Knock, Knock Ch. 26/27: (Im)perfect

Second to last chapter! Last chapter is going to be posted in about five minutes, so there won’t be much wait on this one. 

Read on AO3.

Start from beginning on tumblr (links to next chapter at the end of each)

“I swear to God, Mary Margaret, if you make me go into one more store, I’m going to set you on fire.”

The mall was crowded – it was a gloomy Saturday and there wasn’t much else to do but window shop and people watch – so Emma’s shouting (unfortunately) garnered quite a bit of attention.

And guess what? She couldn’t care less.

“First of all, Emma, the fire references are no longer funny. OK, they never were funny, but I’m officially calling Time of Death on tolerating them. Second – and more importantly – you have to completely start over here. You’re building a home! And you have very little to fill it with. You need to explore, to look around and see what you want. It’s more important than you’re realizing.”

Eye roll. “It’s just stuff, Mary Margaret. You know me well enough to know that I don’t give a shit about the things that I own. I’ve lived on next to nothing, so why the hell should I care if my pot holders match my tea kettle?!” She was still shouting. It would be easy to pretend she was merely enjoying the full use of her lungs now that she’d mostly recovered from the smoke inhalation damage, but the fact was she just snapped a little and lost all volume control in the process.

Mary Margaret approached her carefully, her eyes sad when Emma knew she deserved anger or frustration at the moment. “Don’t you see, Emma? That’s exactly why this matters. You’ve never had anything. And now you do. It’s just stuff, yes, but it’s symbolic. It’s yours. You deserve to own things that, sure, have a perfectly reasonable function. But they’re allowed to represent you. You and Killian. Together. So, please, stop scowling at dinnerware sets and just enjoy the fact that you’re about to start a life that a version of you never dreamed was possible.”

The thing was: Emma didn’t like shopping. Even under the best circumstances. And today – well, this wasn’t the worst circumstances. It was good, actually. She was feeling better – functional, even – and she and Killian had signed all the appropriate paperwork to move into their cute little house. But she was tired. And hungry. And truly didn’t give a crap about what patterns were on her plates.

But Mary Margaret wasn’t wrong. The fire had been dreadful, obviously, and dangerous and all kinds of awful. But it also did that whole cleansing thing where you destroy the old to make way for the new. She didn’t have to cook in pans Mary Margaret had passed down to her. She didn’t have to keep using the fan she got for $2.50 at a yard sale. She didn’t need to cling to the ratty afghan she’d taken from one of her foster homes ages ago (even though it truly was cozy). She could start over. Things could be hers.

Theirs.

She and Killian would obviously be doing the actual purchasing, but Mary Margaret had desperately just wanted Emma to look. Something about how if Emma refused to make a Pinterest board for Home Stuff then she’d just have to go out in the real world for ideas.

But she was tired.

“Can we just go get a pretzel? I appreciate the sentiment, and you’re right. About all of that. But I’m just – I’m not really in the mood for fawning over pillows with anchors on them. Even though I know they’ll inevitably end up on my couch because Killian is predictable and corny.” A smile was finally creeping onto her face, she could feel it, and Mary Margaret responded with a kind nod.

It had been a whirlwind of a week. Killian and Mary Margaret had been manning the summer camp ship (and with wild success). Emma had recommitted herself to a more cheerful recovery and a bitterness reduction, making dinner with David each night and doing all of her PT-recommended activities in the day. She and Killian would retire to their room after dinner was all cleaned up, talking business and new house and budget and renter’s insurance and all kinds of super productive, uber-adulty things.

It was reasonable and rational and really just pure shit.

No, it wasn’t. But it was still a drag, spending all of her time and energy on the stuff she needed – and not what she wanted. Which was to celebrate with her Captain the giant step they were taking.

But there were things to be done and bodies to be healed and so the logistics talk of 8pm turned into the you need your rest, so come let’s cuddle of 9pm and then it was up and at ‘em to another day of busy and planning and just –

No sex. No steamy makeouts. No Netflix and Chill or Hulu and hand jobs or whatever the kids were saying these days. It had been so long since she and Killian could just be together – even non-naked – and the frustration was mounting (ha), especially as her body continued to recover.

Maybe it would be easier to focus on which bedspread she thought would go best in their new master bedroom if she’d been bedded at all in the last month or so.

Groan. Apparently a nice cheesy pretzel would have to suffice.

Auntie Anne’s had only been a short walk from the Home Goods store Emma had melted down in front of, so only minutes had passed and the two of them were seated at a silly table with an unnecessary umbrella chowing on salty goodness and washing it down with sugary lemonade.

“So what do you think you’ll do with the second bedroom?” Mary Margaret asked, her eyes not on Emma but on the excess salt on her pretzel.

“Office, probably. I mean, we’ll put a bed in there for guests and everything, but we’ll add a desk, too. In case we want to do work in a half-professional manner and not just with our laptops propped on the couch pillows.”

Mary Margaret hummed and nodded, seemingly satisfied with Emma’s answer. When really Emma knew exactly what she was thinking.

Babies.

It was probably hard to think of anything else when you had one constantly kicking your bladder or whatever they were doing at that stage of development.

And, yes, Emma had thought about it, the whole family thing. She could definitely see her and Killian with kids – restless, brave, adventurous souls, to be certain.

But, you know, one thing at a time, Mary Margaret. God.

“I’m thinking of getting one of those little portable grill things, though. For the back deck thing, I mean, not for the bedroom. Obviously. We’ve never really had outdoor space and even though this is fairly small, it’ll be nice. You know, to sit outside. Grill some pineapple. The nice, lazy Sunday kind of stuff.”

Mary Margaret finally made eye contact. “You deserve some very lazy Sundays, you know.”

-

The first summer camp had been an unbridled success.

The kids were happy. The parents were happy. He was happy. They'd had fun and made so much progress in getting the kids excited to learn and create and this - this was what he should have been doing all along. Yeah, he'd still book the night rides and the corporate gigs and maybe even a college party or two, but working on something bigger than rum and Instagram-worthy sunsets - it's exactly what he's always needed.

Emma. Emma was what he'd always needed and never really knew. Not until she banged on his door and barged into his life, so resistant at first and yet so right. He was his own man, of course. This wasn't some codependent bullshit. But she'd nudged him in all the right directions, and now he just - well he sounded like a loon even in his own head because the happiness had made him delirious and probably quite insufferable.

But there were still hiccups, of course. He'd wanted Emma to be on the ship the previous week, first of all. He'd been especially distracted the first few days, just worrying about her and then feeling guilty when he wasn't worrying about her. And the nights they spent together - they were cherished, of course - she could have died in a bloody fire not too long ago - but they were also lacking their usual luster. It was always about plans and business and never just playing video games or watching movies or talking about the various flaws in the book-to-movie adaptations of the Harry Potter series or, you know, making love until they were so exhausted they fell asleep wherever they finally landed.

The future was bright - there would be plenty of nights together for, hopefully, the rest of forever. But that didn't mean it wasn't frustrating now.

When the weekend came there was a certain assumption that he might actually get some alone time with his pirate princess. But, as it turned out, he had to do a few Skype calls with his lawyer and the insurance guys - both bitter to be working on a weekend, no less - and so Mary Margaret swept Emma off to the mall for "inspiration" or some shit, and he stayed behind to play stuffy businessman for the morning.

They were getting there. Slowly but surely he was finding what the kids in all their folk stories and fairy tales would call a happily ever after.

-

Begrudgingly, Emma had entered three more department stores after the pretzel fuel-up. It really wasn't the worst. After Mary Margaret had put some things into perspective, Emma had opened her mind up a little (also begrudgingly) and imagined some pieces in her house. She'd even picked some things up to show Mary Margaret and get her opinion - but that was all but a lost cause. Mary Margaret was more about finding a theme and sticking to it. A color scheme. A repeating pattern. Emma liked eclectic. She liked personality. She did not need every single item in her kitchen to have an apple on it, even though she'd picked up one apple-covered serving dish.

It's a good thing she was starting a life with Killian and not Mary Margaret. They would most definitely clash.

Once Mary Margaret was satisfied that Emma had gotten a good idea of her options, they hopped back in the car and headed home, chatting mostly about the previous week's summer camp on their drive.

"... and you wouldn't believe this one boy. Completely obsessed with dragons. Every single story he wrote ended with a dragon. No matter what kind of scenario Killian or I presented. And his parents are doctors and can afford everything so he has dragon shoes, a dragon backpack, and I think I overheard another boy saying he has a jungle gym at home with an actual carved dragon on it."

"Damn," Emma responded. "I didn't know people like that actually existed. Are we running a camp for Storybrooke's most privileged kids or what?"

"Well, you know it does cost money to participate in the summer camp. And for good reason! I'm not saying Killian or you overcharge. But you're certainly more likely to get Richie Rich than Orphan Annie."

"Yeah, yeah you're right. I guess I just - I hadn't thought of it." The truth was that Emma had thought of it. She'd talked about it, even, with Killian. They obviously couldn't run the camp for free, but how would kids like she was ever be able to participate unless it was for a school field trip? They really weren't sure. And with the business being so new - well, it was hard to see into the future to know their success, their impact, whatever.

They were doing their best.

(And their best would be enough, said a little voice in her head that sounded suspiciously like Mary Margaret.)

When they arrived at the Nolans' David was outside mowing and Killian was "supervising" from the porch, two cups of iced tea in his hands.

"You taking good care of your boyfriend, I see?" Emma called as she slid out of the car and started up the sidewalk.

"No, love, this is for you. Mary Margaret alerted me to your return, and I wanted to be prepared. She indicated the trip was... tense?"

"She doesn't seem to get that I don't give a fuck about china patterns."

"I wasn't asking you to pick china patterns, Emma!" Mary Margaret defended, loudly and with a distinct screech.

Killian leaned down to kiss Emma's forehead as he handed her the cool glass and it was like the morning's worries had decreased by at least half.

"How was your morning?" she asked, leading him to the wicker chairs (that matched the house and the rug and the bird feeders, by the way) and plopping down in his lap (personal space was overrated).

"Dull. But everything is definitely squared away, so at least I've accomplished something."

"Unlike your girlfriend," Mary Margaret grumbled.

Steadfastly ignoring her, Emma sipped at her tea and then nuzzled her forehead into Killian's neck, just enjoying the smell of the mowed grass and the feel of her best friend/boyfriend/brand new roommate's arms around her.

They'd come such a long way.

Killian downed the rest of his tea and returned both hands to Emma, stroking her back and toying with her hair and overall making her feel all warm and fuzzy and content inside despite David's constant swearing at the rocks he was hitting in the deeper grass behind the house.

"Zelena called while you were out, by the way," Killian mumbled into her hair.

"Oh?"

"She said we can move in as early as tomorrow. We just need to tell her what day we want and then I guess the guy will prorate the month's rent based on how many days we actually live there."

"Oh, wow. I just - I assumed that we'd have to wait until the first of the month."

"No, love. We can start our life tomorrow, should we desire it."

"Do you? Desire it, I mean?"

"Well, to be fair I've already started my life with you. As far as I'm concerned."

"So have I."

"So tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow."

They sat there for God knows how long, just enjoying the rare moment of calm between two very different (but very real) stress storms.

They came out of their little bubble when David shut off the mower and came stomping up the stairs, grumbling about neighbor kids and raccoons or something. He stopped in front of them, almost startled at their presence.

"I see how it is. You survive one fire and suddenly you never have to do chores again?" David joked, clearly amused by Emma's state of relaxation.

"It's not my grass. Plus I'll be out of your hair tomorrow, Dave. We got the all-clear on our place!" Saying it out loud to someone other than Killian gave her a rush like the drop of a roller coaster and she already craved telling someone else. She was going to be a little insufferable with her joy and she did not care even one bit.

"And... how exactly will you be doing that, might I ask?"

Emma glanced at Killian, relieved to see that he, too, was confused.

"What do you mean?"

"You don't - I mean, I'm not trying to be insensitive, but... “he trailed off, looking around as if to find someone who could get him out of this conversation. But Mary Margaret didn't magically appear (guess they weren't telepathic like Emma often suspected), so he finished his thought. "You guys don't have anything to move."

The deflation of her soul those simple words caused was tangible. Probably visible if the near-regret in David's eyes was anything to go on.

Mary Margaret had been urging Emma to think of her new home and what she wanted to fill it with and cranky, sexually frustrated Emma resisted and tried to procrastinate and now here it was - the time they could move - and the obvious hadn't hit her.

They had next to nothing.

"But - I don't want to wait," Emma all but whined, her voice sounding small even to herself.

Killian rubbed his arms up and down her back, squeezing her more tightly when he felt her shake a little.

"Don't worry, love. Tomorrow shall be a shopping spree!"

Killian sounded like a kid on Christmas and his enthusiasm was contagious - even though David hurried to tell them they didn't need to rush and they could stay as long as they wanted and they should really think long and hard about the things they wanted to fill their house with rather than buying whatever the heck they saw first at the store.

But Emma tuned him out. She was moving in with her boyfriend tomorrow.

-

Mary Margaret and David were the most annoying parents on the planet and their child was as of yet to be born.

As soon as Emma and Killian made it clear that they were absolutely, most definitely moving into their new house tomorrow, the couple went into overdrive, making lists and searching local department store websites for prices and inventory and any bargains or coupons or incentives. Mary Margaret was shuffling around the house, raiding closets and drawers and shelves for items "just to use for the time being" and "you know, just to get you started." Emma kept refusing, but Killian was genuinely concerned that Mary Margaret was going to go into early labor if they refused her help, so he just whispered Swan, let her have this one each time Emma tried to argue.

They were about an hour into comparing furniture designs and prices when David remarked that it was simply too bad that they didn't know the measurements of the house offhand - if they knew a couch/bed/etc. would fit, they could order it right now.

Which was when Emma seemed to have a light bulb switch on above her head like a damned cartoon.

"We'll find out!" she shouted, jumping up from the recliner she'd been leaning on.

"It's probably a little late to call Zelena, don't you think? It's not even a work day," Mary Margaret warned.

"No, yeah, of course I'm not going to bother her. I just mean - well, no one is at the house and I have some pretty excellent lock picking skills that are sorely going to waste."

"Excuse me, young lady, cop present," David shouted, purely scandalized.

Emma just rolled her eyes and grabbed Killian's hand, tugging him toward the door. "You gonna turn me in?"

"Emma, now is not the time. It can wait until morning."

"You just said that it would be helpful to know the dimensions. Killian and I will slip on in there, measure it up, and come back ready to start ordering!"

Emma stopped off at the front closet of the Nolans' house, grabbing a few tools (and a measuring tape) and threw them in her bag, tossing it over her shoulder and retaking Killian's hand in a span of two seconds flat. Clearly something was happening here beyond measurements because not ten minutes before Emma had been tired and utterly disinterested in choosing a sofa or a kitchen table. Now her excitement was definitely an eleven on a scale of one to ten and while he was certainly happy to see her so enthusiastic, he also had some genuine confusion over the motivation.

Unless she really, really just needed a break from the helicopter parents that were her best friends.

Yeah, that was probably it.

The house was within walking distance and the sun was still a ways from setting so they decided to walk to their new home, hand-in-hand and truly giddy (they had a home).

When it seemed that they were far enough away from the house that no gentle breeze and open window would allow the Nolans to hear his words, Killian turned to Emma, eyebrow quirked in silent question.

"We seriously needed out of there, right? They're nuts! We're going to be fine. It's not like the whole house needs an Interior Design team. Right? We can start with some basics and add as we go?"

The Nolans - Mary Margaret, especially - had been so persuasive and adamant in their demands, even Killian had started to believe some of what they were suggesting Emma and Killian simply couldn't live without from day one. But now, with some fresh air and space, he could see even more clearly what Emma obviously had as well.

They actually were going to be just fine on their own.

"You can't blame them for being that way. They just really, really want you to be happy, Swan."

She slowly moved in front of him and grasped his other hand as well, squeezing tightly as she locked eyes with him. "They want us to be happy, Killian. They're your people, too."

"I know, love. But my god is that love smothering at times!"

They continued their walk, going over the most ridiculous things that had been said by their friends in the course of the last few hours and sharing what retorts they'd wanted to say versus what they'd actually responded with and before they knew it, their new home was right in front of them.

"It looks so pretty in the sunset," Emma breathed, utterly amazed by what honestly amounted to an average, modest dwelling.

But he was amazed, too. "Aye."

"Aye," she (poorly) imitated his accent. "But I'm the pirate now. Watch me work, babe."

With that Emma took out some tools from her bag - small wrenches it looked like - and started picking at the lock on the surprisingly old door. It only took a minute or so for him to hear a distinct click followed by a hushed whoop of glee and, finally, the creaking of the door as Emma swung it open.

He'd seen it already, of course. Emma had taken him back there after she'd already secured it. But knowing it wasn't just this thing that was happening in the future, that this was going to be all theirs come tomorrow - it was overwhelming.

And absolutely made it ten times more beautiful than when he first saw it.

Emma pulled out the measuring tape and tossed her bag in the corner, slipping off her boots so as not to track anything on their carpet. "What kind of couch do you want, anyway? I feel like I only know what Mary Margaret and David think is best for us."

"You're not wrong, love. I think I prefer the ones that are fluffy and spacious. I want something we can cuddle on and watch television."

"Isn't that what the bed is for, Killian?"

"I wish to cuddle with you everywhere."

"Is that so?" Emma asked, quirking her eyebrow and putting a little extra swing in her hips as she approached him.

"Of course. You're very cuddly."

"Cuddly, that's what you're going for?"

"Would you prefer a different adjective, love?"

"Well, I wouldn't be opposed to something a little less innocent..." Emma murmured, wrapping her arms around him and kissing around his clavicle.

"Would you now?" His body was responding to hers but fast, having been without any non-innocent touch in some time.

"Is that so hard to believe?" She continued kissing across his shoulder, up his neck, around his earlobe.

Jesus she was trying to kill him.

"Well you already know my feelings on you in that way. But considering all you've been through recently, I didn't think - I wasn't going to assume you wanted to go in this direction."

"What direction?" she asked oh-so-innocently - while raising her thigh to rub against his already painfully hard erection.

"Emmaaaaaa," he groaned, having absolutely not expected this when he agreed to this venture.

"Killiaaaaaan," she mocked.

He pulled out of her grasp and turned her around so they were both facing the unlit fireplace, his arms enveloping her and her sinking against him in response. "We came here, to our home, to measure for our furniture, love. Not to give into carnal desires only to end up in the ER."

"Are you planning to cut yourself on my measuring tape?"

"Emma. You were in a fire a month ago!"

"They never said I couldn't have sex," she reasoned, shrugging her shoulders beneath him.

"I think when one can't breathe, it's just common sense that there won't be any sex."

"But I can breathe now. And I want you! We need to celebrate. Like you said, this is our home."

He had absolutely no desire to say no to her in the first place and his body had already jumped on the yes train about two minutes ago, so Killian just said fuck it and started raining kisses from Emma's shoulder to her neck before finally catching her mouth with his, despite her still being tucked with her back against his front.

She moaned into it and he felt her tongue immediately sliding against his bottom lip, and goddamn it if he wasn't so hungry for her he could just die.

She squeezed her arms against his around her middle as their tongues tangled together, the spark finally fully igniting. Killian let his arms wander from her waist, trailing up to stroke at her breasts and down to feel the heat radiating between her legs.

"Swan, there isn't a bed," he grumbled between kisses, still desperately grasping at her body. "Or even a couch."

"So?" Emma turned in his hold to face him, one hand reaching behind his neck to draw him closer and the other sliding down to fumble with the button on his pants.

"So do you fancy rug burn on your knees? Or mine?"

She chuckled but continued her assault, yanking down his zipper and pushing his boxers out of the way until she had him fully in hand, stroking ever-so-lightly.

"We'll do it standing up. It's not like this is going to take long." She looked up at him and winked, removing her hand (thankfully) and pulling off her own top.

"God, I love you," was all Killian could get out before he was stripping himself down, clothes tossed haphazardly around what would become his living room.

Emma just laughed, a giddy, genuine sound that should have seemed out of place in such a frenzy of sexual passion - but that fit right in with what made them... them.

Once she'd discarded all of her clothes, she scurried over to the fireplace, leaning her arms against it and jutting her ass out, wiggling it adorably in invitation. Killian accepted (obviously), locking eyes with her as she peered at him over her shoulder. "Sorry this is going to be so fast, love."

"Oh, believe me. I'm just as worked up as you. I'll probably come the second you touch me, so, you know. Just get on with it."

"Just get on with it?" He repeated, rolling his eyes.

"Fuck me, Killian." Her eyes were fire and he couldn't have held himself back if there was a fire alarm at that point.

She moaned loudly as he rubbed himself against her, finding her positively dripping as he lined himself up and pushed in with ease.

"Holy hell," she breathed, her chest already heaving.

"So good," he whispered back, both of his hands squeezing her hips with the exertion of trying to make this last longer than thirty fucking seconds.

He rocked against her slowly, deliberately at first, but it only took a few sighs and curses from Emma before he was desperately plunging into her, hard and fast. She kept one hand firmly against the wall, but reached her other back to tangle with his, her moans rapidly rising in pitch as she began to rock back against him stroke for stroke.

She felt so good around him, so tight at this angle and so warm and it had been so long since he'd had her and it happening here, in their home - it was all too much for him to handle. The emotions, the feel of her walls starting to flutter and squeeze him, it brought him to the edge and right over it, his whole body shaking as he spilled himself deep inside her. They were both gasping for breath and quivering (either from the orgasm or tired muscles, he couldn't be sure), but still firmly connected.

"I love you," she gasped out after a minute or so, her forehead now resting on the hand that was planted against the wall.

"As I love you," he responded, bending further over her to kiss across her back and over to her shoulders.

"Ugh, I didn't really think of cleanup," she groaned, apparently looking down at her thighs that were now more than a little sticky. "Guess I'm going to have to resort to using my underwear."

"Should have thought of that before you attacked me."

She scoffed. "Oh, like you didn't want it."

"Of course I did, love," Killian slowly pulled out of her, quickly bending down to find her panties before they made too noticeable a mess. "But I always want you. So that's not ever really going to be an issue."

But she suddenly didn't seem to care so much about the mess, taking the cloth from him but then wrapping her arms around him and pulling him so their lips were just inches apart. "This is our home, Killian."

He felt just as amazed as she looked and so what if there was semen on their brand new carpet? They'd bring the Lysol tomorrow.

This was their home.

-

Move-in was the fucking worst.

Emma and Killian had steadfastly decided that they were only going to buy the basics that first day. Bed, trash cans, food, TV, whatever. They already had bought most of their bathroom-type things and had been keeping them at the Nolans', but they figured they could probably buy some more clothes while they were out, if they had time.

But, no. Mary Margaret and David had apparently recruited everyone and their fucking brother to help them that day and had insisted on full everything. They couldn't just get a bed - they had to get the whole bed set! And they couldn't just have a TV sitting on the floor - they needed an entertainment center! And quite frankly Emma was too fucking tired to argue.

The night before had been perfect. She'd finally gotten some alone time with Killian (and some satisfying alone time, at that). They'd made a good amount of decisions about the types of things they wanted for their house.

But they hadn't planned on buying them the very next day.

Hadn't it been Mary Margaret and David who had warned them to wait? Apparently once they started something they were just going at full speed until they hit a fucking brick wall.

A brick wall named Emma.

"Guys! Didn't we talk about this? We have enough money. Stop trying to buy us shit!"

Robin had gotten them a toaster oven, which was very sweet and relatively small. That was OK. Belle had sent Will with a beautiful picture for their wall - the whole crew of them on the Jewel for Ruby's going away party. That was thoughtful and sweet. But then Mary Margaret and David were insisting on buying them a washer and dryer set. A set! It was something like $1,600 and while Emma was trying to be cool with letting her makeshift "parents" help out, enough was fucking enough.

"But we just want to help you, Emma! You've been through so much. You both have! And not just the fire. This is your happy ending! You made it! I just want to provide pieces of it for you."

"For god's sake, woman, you already have! The important stuff, too. Not things. I know you say things are symbolic, but quite honestly fuck the symbols. The only thing I need from you is love and support and friendship. And perhaps your recipe for Mexican hot chocolate cookies. My point is: yes, I made it. I did! I'm already here. You don't have to keep giving. I'm good."

Will and Robin were seemingly trying to teleport themselves out of this conversation and Killian and David were mostly just staring at their women and the women were staring at each other and everything was just too tense and awkward and this was supposed to be a happy day, not another goddamn meltdown.

"Are we cool?" Emma finally asked.

"Yes, we're - we're cool. But we're also never going to just... stop being overbearing and excessive. I've decided it's my job. And David will back me up because he always backs me up. And Robin and Will, they're on board, too, even if they don't realize it."

"You know what I'm on board with?" Will chimed in. "Pizza. It's what you do when you move people, right? You order pizza. I say it's pizza time."

So they drove their (many) rented trucks back to the (adorable) rented house and sat down at the (expensive) non-rented table that Killian actually really did want, despite not having planned on buying one, and their scrappy little family ate way too much cheese and toasted with only semi-chilled beer to all the shit that led them here.

-

The air was already warm, despite the sun having just risen, when Killian first stepped aboard his ship that Monday morning. The kids wouldn't be there for another hour or so, but he wanted to make sure that all the activities were properly lined up - after all, the previous week he'd leaned quite a bit on Mary Margaret to do the teacher-y things while he pouted. Or brooded. Whatever it was. But Mary Margaret wasn't going to be his co-captain this week.

Emma walked up the gangplank, her new (not-so-binding) outfit flowing in the gentle breeze. The leather, while sexy as all hell, wasn't quite appropriate with the kids and, in her words, hurt like a bitch against burns. So they found some vaguely old-timey stuff at a Salvation Army the previous week, and Emma was rocking it like no one else on this Earth could. But, then again, she looked good in anything.

(Or nothing.)

"Reporting for duty, Captain Jones!" she called, saluting excitedly as she approached him.

"Good morning, my love," he crooned, reaching out for her hand and dropping a kiss on her forehead.

"You better get all that affection out of your system, buddy. No PDA in front of the kids."

"I'll behave, Captain Swan."

She chuckled and hugged him tighter, her ear pressing against his chest so closely she had to be able to hear his heart stuttering.

"We did it, Killian."

"Did what?"

"All of it? I mean, we found each other. And we built this together." She gestured around the ship at the activity stations and the snacks. "I just - I always thought I'd stay at least half-lost. Even after I had Ruby, Mary Margaret, David, a job I was damn good at. I just - I never expected this. You."

"I never expected you, either, love. Especially not, well, the way we happened."

"It's a unique story, I'll give you that," Emma laughed, her cheeks flushing as if she were remembering the many embarrassments along the way.

"I wouldn't trade it for anything," Killian promised her, bending down for one last kiss on the lips before the pack of kids descended upon them and sucked away all their energy for the next 8 hours.

"Me neither."

Go to FINAL chapter!