#but he and killian would have to stop being brothers for good | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

spartanguard · 1 year

Text

imzadi

Summary: Lt. Commander Emma Swan and Commander Killian Jones, both of the USS Misthaven, have been having secret rendezvous for the past few years. Not just lovers, they're imzadi—not quite soulmates, but not far from that either. Maybe someday they'll reveal the depth of their feelings for one another. But today, they're just going to have another secret meeting, like they always do. (A CS Star Trek: TNG AU)

A/N: It's time for my annual self-indulgent birthday fic! This Star Trek AU (based on Riker & Troi) has been in the works for YEARS but I finally got it done in the last couple of days. For those familiar with Star Trek canon, I take some liberties for the purposes of telling this story, but I tried to stay true to the mythos. Thanks to @optomisticgirl for the quick beta!!! Enjoy!

rated M | 5.1 k words | AO3

“Dismissed, Lieutenant.”

“Yes, Captain.”

Lt. Commander Emma Swan, security chief of the USS Misthaven, nodded at her captain’s order and exited the bridge. She was off duty for the next 12 hours and knew exactly how she planned on spending the majority of them—assuming the person she was hoping to spend them with was also amenable to that plan. And she had a feeling he would be. (He always was, at least.)

She entered the vacant turbolift and gave the verbal command to the crew quarters’ level; she knew he’d be easy to convince, but she had to find him first.

The lift stopped before reaching her destination, and the door opened to let another passenger on board—and there he was: Commander Killian Jones, first officer of the ship, and brother of the captain. Half Betazoid, half human; completely attractive—and completely aware of it. There was no way the disheveled style of his dark hair or the length of his gingery scruff were up to Starfleet code, and honestly, no one should look as good as he did in his teal and black uniform—all lean muscle and swagger. It was infuriating.

And it would probably bother her more if she wasn’t aware of the fact that he could back it up, and all too well.

“Swan,” he greeted as he boarded the lift, stopping in front of her.

“Jones,” she answered, looking him right in the eye. Honestly, those were her favorite of his features, even more than his elf-like ears and incredible backside. Betazoid people naturally had black irises, but he’d inherited some incredible blue ones from his human mother that were complemented even more by the color of his uniform. It sounded cliche, but the best way she could describe them was as the color of the sea—and like the sea, they changed.

They were a clear, bright blue when he was happy; a cool blue-gray when he was distressed; and when he was experiencing a very strong emotion, either his own or someone else’s, they disappeared into the black of his pupils. Being half-Betazoid meant Killian was an empath: not only extra attuned to emotions of those around him, but also well aware of his own, and it showed, if you knew what to look for.

And right now, as she stared up at him, with him intently gazing back, she smirked watching them shift from bright aqua to black as night. She loved watching the effect of her own arousal on him.

Thankfully, the door closed behind him at just the right time, and he promptly invaded her space, hand and prosthetic hook coming to rest on her hips while his forehead touched hers. He closed his eyes and in a raspy voice asked, “Swan, what are you doing tonight?”

Her hands came to rest on his shoulders and she gently arched her pelvis forward, just grazing his, but it was enough to draw a stifled moan from him. “You,” she whispered.

His eyes opened and he gave her a wicked, sideways grin in response, cutting a dimple into that scruff and somehow raising the temperature in the lift...or maybe that was just her.

She couldn’t resist; she fisted his uniform in her hands and pulled him to her, finding his lips with hers in a searing kiss. Their mouths battled for dominance as their tongues danced, and her thick uniform had never felt so stifling.

Honestly, it reminded her of their first encounter, when they were on an away mission on the jungle planet of Neverland. Back then, days of tension had finally erupted in a combined moment of bliss in the humid, dense foliage, and the rest was history—for a few years now.

Before things went past the point of no return, Emma pulled back; they both needed to calm down before they left the lift, even if the sound of his ragged breathing only made her want to jump him sooner.

“Wait 5 minutes; go check on engineering or something,” she breathed, forcing herself to take a step back when the computer’s voice announced their arrival on her floor.

“As you wish,” he murmured, stepping out of her way as she exited. She paused just outside the doors, attempting to calm her racing heart before heading down the corridor, but glanced back at Killian over her shoulder. As the doors shut, she saw him lean against the back of the lift with his fingers pressed to his lips, looking absolutely fuckstruck.

Coolly (at least, as much as she was able to), she headed down the hall to her quarters; she loved that she could render such a cocky, confident man, who had a quip or innuendo for everything, completely speechless.

Once inside her room, she kicked off her shoes and sighed as she undid the zipper at her collar, able to breathe a bit easier now that she had some privacy. She tugged it down a little further, too, just into the red panel on her uniform, allowing the air to cool her flushed chest, but still to a modest level. Honestly, she’d been planning this encounter all day—she had to leave some surprises for later.

She did a quick look around to make sure things were tidy before Killian arrived, but she didn’t really have much to create a mess; that tended to happen when you grew up an orphan and joined Starfleet as soon as you aged out of the foster system. But she tossed yesterday’s underwear in the laundry compartment and folded her baby blanket up, setting it on the recliner just as a knock rapped against the door. God, he was so old-fashioned.

She made the few strides needed to cross her narrow living space, pressed the button that slid the doors open, and there he was, back to looking prim and proper as if he hadn’t been absolutely wrecked just a few minutes ago. Things must have been much calmer wherever he’d gone, but not enough for his eyes to revert to blue.

“You requested a report on the status in engineering?” he began with a smirk. She hated that they had to use stuff like this as a cover for their nighttime activities, but damn if he didn’t sell it.

“I did. Come in,” she answered authoritatively, stepping aside so he could enter. Once he was in the room, though, she closed the door as fast as possible.

Which was good, because a second later, she was pressed against it, with his mouth on hers once more and their bodies aligned from chest to hips. His hand found its way to the elastic around her blonde ponytail, dug a finger under it, and pulled, letting her hair fall free over her shoulder.

Then his lips wandered, down her chin to the sensitive spot below her ear, stopping briefly to suck at it just enough to make her squirm; when her groin inevitably brushed against his as she writhed, she could feel his erection through his uniform and she really wished he’d hurry up on this, but she could always tell when he had a plan.

His left arm wrapped around her waist, keeping her held in place against him, as his hand drew a heated path up her side, over the swell of her bosom, to where her uniform was partially unfastened. He kissed his way down her neck and then began to pull the zipper down, pressing his lips against her collarbone as it became exposed, and then down her chest to where sweat was beginning to pool between her breasts. She thought—or hoped, rather—that he might get distracted there, but still he went down, over her abs until the zipper stopped, just below her belly button, pressing one last kiss on her skin there before rising back up.

As he stood, the back of his hand drifted up her stomach, oddly sending a chill down her spine and she pressed herself closer to him. Despite what was going on in his pants, his face seemed relaxed and calm as he set about his business. Carefully, he slid his hand and hook under her uniform and over her shoulders, and pressed the material off of her, gliding down her arms until it fell off her wrists, leaving her almost bare from the waist up.

His eyes perused her form for a moment, and he smirked. “I could be wrong, but I don’t really think black lace undergarments are quite up to Starfleet regulation,” he jokingly chastised as he ran his palm over the soft material covering her breasts, brushing over her hardening nipple with his thumb.

“Are you complaining?” she threw back, coquettishly. “I mean, I can find something more suitable, if you think I should,” she went on, making as if to walk over to her closet.

He gripped her waist, though, before she could get away. “I certainly wasn’t protesting,” he clarified, voice dropping an octave. As he stood there holding her in his arms, a gentle smile softened his features, one that always made butterflies take up residence in her stomach. “My stunning imzadi,” he whispered.

There was that word again—imzadi. She had to look away, because the weight of his adoring gaze on hers, especially when he said that, was too much for her to bear. She’d never forget the first time he’d called her that—it was after their shared tryst on Neverland, as their bodies cooled next to a dazzling pool of clear water. He’d said it just as reverently back then, too, and explained to her what it meant: it was a Betazoid term of endearment used to signify someone’s first. He didn’t really clarify first what, because she definitely didn’t take his virginity, but she had to admit that she’d never quite connected with someone the way she did with Killian; they’d both been abandoned young and had to fight to get to where they were today.

Maybe that was why they clashed so much—they were too similar for their own good sometimes. But that meant it was even sweeter when they came together, physically or otherwise. Truthfully, she knew she was falling for Killian in a way that she’d sworn she never would, but he’d somehow managed to slip through the few cracks in her emotional walls and was slowly breaking them down, piece by piece.

He wasn’t quite through yet, though, and she didn’t want to let him know just how far he was until she was sure he wouldn’t break her heart like others had in the past. But every time he uttered imzadi, and every time he looked at her in a way that made her feel beautiful like no one ever had before, she found herself inching closer to that point....someday. For now, though, what they had was perfect.

She attempted to tamp down that warm, fuzzy feeling that wrapped around her heart whenever he wrapped his arms around her, but it was getting harder and harder to do. She just hoped he hadn't picked up on that emotion yet, and thankfully, he hadn’t given any indication that he had.

Besides, she could tell that something else was getting hard. When she finally dared to look up at him, his gaze had switched back to lascivious and she could feel his firm length pressing low on her abdomen.

“Are you just gonna stare, or are we gonna do something about this?” she asked, turning on the charm as she gripped his hips and tugged them towards her, earning a gasp from him; flirtation was typically the best way for her to move the subject matter back into her comfort zone.

“Bloody hell,” he exclaimed at the move, throwing his head back and exposing the cords of his neck. She wanted to suck at the little constellation of freckles that ran down it, but they still had far too much clothing on for what she had in mind.

Lightly gripping his wrists where they rested on her waist, she slid his hand and hook down, taking the rest of her jumpsuit with them as they followed the curve of her hips until the uniform fell in a heap at her feet. His grip landed on her rear, palming the black lace she wore there as well.

Carefully keeping their abdomens in line, she stepped out of the crumpled clothing and shuffled them a couple steps closer to her bed.

She couldn’t resist—she went ahead and placed a few pecks on the marks on his neck, smiling at the feel of his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. Then she rose onto her bare toes and whispered in his ear, “My turn.”

Bless whoever designed these uniforms, she thought, because whenever she got to take Killian’s off of him, it was like discovering a goddamn treasure. She trailed her fingers down his neck to found the zipper tab on his collar, and started pulling, carefully and slowly. Each inch she opened revealed the thick thatch of hair that covered his firm chest, and she couldn’t wait to brush her fingers through it.

The hair tapered into a line that traveled down his strong core parallel with the zipper, leading to parts she couldn’t wait to unveil. But the zipper stopped before revealing those, and she involuntarily pouted at the interruption.

Killian gave a low chuckle at her expression, earning him a wry glare. She lightly shoved his pecs with both hands in response, but left them there, scratching her fingers through his chest hair and drawing a moan from him, this time closing his eyes and letting his head fall back. Part of her could have just stared at him like that, with his long lashes laying against his cheeks and his perfect profile highlighted by the dim lights of her room, but a more convincing part—and an increasingly wetter part—pushed her to keep going.

Her fingers dragged up his pecs, tracing the dips of his collarbones, before slipping under the edge of his uniform and sliding the top down his arms, squeezing his perfect biceps as she trailed down to his wrists—but being careful of the hardware around his hook as she guided the garment off.

The top now hung off his trim waist, giving her an unhindered view of his entire upper body. No matter how many times she’d seen it, she was always distracted by it: how a body could be so welcoming but also so exciting, as written by the gentle ripples of his understated, but still firm, muscles—just defined enough to let you know they were there but not enough to be uncomfortable.

That was a perfect description for their relationship, if it had to have that label: it was vague but it meant that they both felt safe with it; and they’d both been burned enough in the past that it was one of the key things that brought them together. She trusted him; she felt comfortable with him; she...well, she knew the word she wanted to use, but she didn’t dare to yet.

Lust, though...that word certainly fit, and described the overwhelming emotion that took over as she followed his treasure trail down until it disappeared in the bunched-up fabric sitting below his navel. Her patience was running out, so she grabbed his waist to pull him closer and then let her fingertips dip under the edge of his uniform.

But she scoffed as she slid them around him, pushing the garment over his ridiculous, perfect, firm ass. “Y’know, it’s awfully bold of you to critique my underwear as not being proper when you’re not wearing any at all,” she teasingly admonished as she freed his erection.

“Are you complaining?” he parroted with a smirk.

“Nope,” she answered, letting the rest of his uniform fall to the floor around his feet.

She took a second to glance at his strong thighs, but was more eager to straddle them, so she pressed herself back against him and started to guide them yet closer to her bed. She may have been too eager, though—understandable, given the way his cock was pressed against her stomach—but in her haste to get him horizontal, she failed to give him a chance to step out of the uniform sitting in a heap at his feet.

As such, they barely took two steps before falling comically onto her mattress, him wrapping his arms around her waist and her with her hands pressed to his chest.

“Shit,” she cursed. “You okay?”

“‘M fine,” he said in a strained voice. “Just—let me catch my breath, before we move onto more…enjoyable activities.”

She sat back and he shifted under her, better positioning himself on her bed. As soon as he was fully on the bunk, she shifted forward again, perching herself on his lap and suppressing the urge to grind against his groin—especially knowing how much the lace of her underwear would drive him crazy.

His hand settled on her own leg and slid up until it settled at her waist. For a minute, she continued to admire him again—watching the way the muscles of his chest and stomach moved as he breathed, quickly at first and eventually evening out—until he squeezed her side.

“Now where were we?” he finally asked, voice low and husky as he peered up at her from her pillow. It was probably just the low light, but his eyes somehow seemed even darker.

“Mmm, somewhere about…here?” she replied as she shifted forward, now taking the time to press her core against his—and grinning at the groan she pulled from him in the process.

“You bloody minx,” he purred as she hovered above him, placing her hands on either side of his shoulders. “You take pleasure in torturing me?”

“You know I do,” she tossed back; they were both fully aware he could sense her amusement.

“And here I thought this was a social call. May as well send me to the brig if all you’re going to do is punish me.”

“Not tonight.” (Though she did have a pair of handcuffs somewhere.) “I’d rather not deal with the subsequent officer’s report.”

His hand slid around to her back and he pressed her against him. She sucked in a breath at the slight friction of her lace bra against her nipples. “That would be an awful waste of time. And so is this conversation.” And then he silenced her with his lips atop hers.

Barely-clothed make outs were nothing new for them, but Emma never tired of the way they gradually keyed each other up as their own personal arousals increased and fed off the other; the way Killian moaned and whimpered as she pressed her hips against his only furthered it.

At some point, his hand found its way to the clasp of her bra, and in a well-practiced motion, he undid it, then kissed his way down her left shoulder while sliding the strap down. She hated to put any distance between them when they were in the thick of things, but raised herself a few inches—just enough to get the garment off and toss it aside.

She was about to lean back in when the world suddenly spun around on her; when it settled, she was on her back on the other side of the bed, and Killian was hovering above her, smugly. “You know, Swan, I’ve had a craving the last few days that no replicator could ever hope to supply,” he murmured.

“Oh yeah? What’s that?”

He moved so his mouth was near her ear and, much like she had earlier, whispered, “You.” His hot breath on her overheated skin made her tingle with delight; Killian’s subsequent shiver told him he felt it, too.

Like he did earlier, he worked his way down her abdomen, placing kisses as he went (and spending no short amount of time caressing her bosom with both hand and mouth). But when he got to her hips, he gestured for her to raise them. She complied, and he gently—almost reverently—placed hook and fingers under the waistband of her panties and guided them down, like he was carefully unwrapping a gift (which, given his previous confession, he probably was).

Ever the romantic, he even pressed a kiss to her ankle as he pulled the lace undergarment completely off. (She’d chastise him later for chucking it over by his scrunched-up uniform.) And then his hungry eyes held hers as he lowered himself off the end of the bed, back down over her sex.

He breathed on her, and she shivered—both at the hot air and in anticipation. Even he had to close his eyes and take a moment before doing anything else; her own arousal was clearly affecting him. (And she loved it.)

(Yes, she was capable of using that word. Just not in all contexts.)

He gave an initial lick at her folds, making her toes curl. Then he went back in with his talented tongue and started to slowly work her up, and she gave herself over to bliss as he went.

Every move he made brought her more and more pleasure. Emma was no stranger to flings and one-night stands, but none of them were ever as giving of lovers as Killian, and she made sure she repaid it in kind.

Not just yet, though—actually, they needed to slow down. Because the closer she got to her peak, the closer he did, too; that was something they’d figured out long ago. (But again—it was nice knowing that the quickest way for your lover to come was to make you come, too; more than she could say for quite a few other people now in command across the fleet.)

As her heart rate picked up and breathing grew deeper, she could feel him begin to stutter in his movements as his own climax drew near.

It almost pained her to do, but this was a marathon, not a race; she needed him to last all night. “Hey,” she said, and propped herself up on her elbows enough to pull her sex away from his face. His eyes were closed, but he was pouting. She sat up enough to reach down and run her fingers through his hair, which had fallen across his forehead. “Together?”

He blinked his eyes open and had a soft look, despite what they were in the middle of. “Aye, together,” he answered, and crawled back above her.

They were familiar enough with each other’s bodies that it didn’t take much effort for him to find her entrance and press his length in, and she knew just what angle to prop her hips at to make it effortless.

His hand again found her hip as they both reveled a moment in the feeling of being joined. She wasn’t sure she’d ever admit it, but those were the moments when she truly understood the whole imzadi thing—regardless of their physical position, she’d never felt so connected, so in tune with Killian as she did then. And it was something more important to her than she cared to admit.

The careful way Killian was placing kisses on her jaw suggested he felt similarly; those were the times when she wished she was as aware of his emotions as he was of hers, but at least he was far more communicative when it came to those things than she was. (She’d never asked, but she often wondered if part of being empathic was wearing your own heart on your uniform sleeve.)

Her thought process was taking her down a path she wasn’t ready to go down yet, and she shifted—not uncomfortably, but just to create some friction (more physical than emotional but that was just as likely). He got the hint—not that he really needed it—and began to move.

The other perk of having a lover who was aware of every turn of your emotional state was that he was almost constantly aware of what she needed—one step ahead. They quickly found their rhythm, well-rehearsed at this point, but she didn’t need to tell him when to go harder or softer or change his angle—he just knew. (For her part, she’d learned to read his own body language and react accordingly; the last thing she wanted to be was a selfish lover.)

All too soon, she was approaching the edge of release again (not that she’d come very far down after their brief pause). Killian’s stilted movements echoed the same. “Come for me, love,” he murmured as he pressed in firmer; as divine as that felt, she was aching to fall.

She met each of his own subsequent moves, tension rising, rising, rising, until finally—there; she came with a gasp, the waves of pleasure she’d been chasing finally crashing over her.

And him—his own release was instantaneous, and their cries mingled in the quiet of her quarters (which, thankfully, were soundproof). She could feel him pulse inside her as she dug her heels into his lower back, mostly as an anchor, lest she float away in space as they succumbed to their shared bliss.

Orgasms always seemed to last longer with Killian; even after he’d pulled out and set her down, they both were on a physical high for some time after, and lay there, wrapped around each other, until they came down.

(She loved it. And that was all she’d say.)

Their breaths eventually evened out, in time with one another’s; she sometimes wondered if their hearts beat in syncopation, too, but figured that was just the hopeless romanticism of her best friend (and the ship’s counselor) Mary Margaret rubbing off on her.

“I’d ask if that was good, but…” he started, but she could hear as much as see his smirk.

“You know it was.” She slapped him playfully on his bare shoulder, but noticed that his eyes were starting to regain their blue color. “You know everything.”

“It’s nice to hear you finally admit it,” he teased.

She just chuckled and curled into him a bit more. It was a little more lovey-dovey than she’d usually do, but…it was Killian. Loathe as she was to admit it, every one of their encounters like this let him more and more inside her walls; maybe not fully breaking them down, but giving him more and more access.

And the fact that it was just between them helped. She was a pretty private person, especially with the role she held on the ship, and wasn’t ready for the world to start making any other sort of commentary or assumptions about her. She hadn’t even told Mary Margaret. (And god forbid the captain ever found out; Liam was known for running a tight ship and she could only imagine the reaction if he ever found out two of his senior officers, one of them being his brother, were sleeping together.)

“What are you thinking, love?” he asked softly. “I can read your emotions, not your thoughts; but something is on your mind.”

“Yeah,” she started. “How do you manage to keep this,” she gestured across the minimal space between them, “away from your brother? Especially with your whole telepathy thing?” Betazoids as a species were telepathic; the fact that the Jones brothers had a human mother hadn’t changed that, but limited their abilities to only communicating with others of Betazoid descent.

“I don’t,” he answered casually.

“You what?” she whisper-yelled.

He shrugged. “I couldn’t hope to keep this out of my thoughts, Swan.”

“Killian—he’s my commanding officer!”

“Aye; mine, too. And he doesn’t care.”

“He doesn’t?”

“No. He says he much prefers this than the alternative, which is us constantly being at the other’s throat.” She blushed at that, because it was true—prior to their first coming together, they fought incessantly (which, looking back, was probably due to the attraction they’d both been denying).

“Okay, but you don’t tell him all the details, do you?”

“Of course not; you know I don’t kiss and tell. But I rarely have to; he says you’re usually fairly happy after the fact.”

“Oh my god,” she complained, burying her face in her hands. “I might as well write ‘I just had sex’ on my uniform.”

He laughed—that deep, low thing she loved, reverberating across his chest as he pulled her towards him. “You’re not denying the happy part.”

“We both know that’d be a lie.”

“Mm, true,” he agreed, and pressed a kiss against her temple.

She had planned on going in for round two, but fatigue was gradually taking over, paired with the sense of safety she only felt when she was in his arms.

He wasn’t going anywhere, she knew; they could do more later. So for now, she’d rest, close to the one person who meant more to her than anyone else.

(That much she could admit.)

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

Killian loved these nights with Emma. He loved the way she’d seek him out, teasing him as soon as she found him. He loved the bit of subterfuge they had to perform to cover for their meetings. He loved the way they came together so perfectly.

He loved her—his darling imzadi. He knew the title weighed heavy on her at times, but she’d never tried to reject it; in the time since it’d been bestowed on her, she seemed to appreciate it more and more, even returning it.

They’d never discussed anything deeper about their relationship—it definitely was one, of a sort, but they both had baggage that made them hesitate. He’d never said out loud the extent of his feelings, but had a sense she was aware and was stubbornly ignoring it—both his and her own.

The perk of being an empath was being able to read her easily; but it was both a blessing and a curse at times, too. Because in these quiet, shared moments, he could sense the way she felt about him—and she loved him just as deeply as he loved her.

Knowing that was enough for him, for now; maybe someday, they’d finally be able to say the words aloud to each other. Just not yet.

Until then, he was content to hold her close and be at her side, like they were now. As she drifted off to sleep, he pressed a gentle kiss to her lips, hoping that expressed everything he felt. Her lips curled into a smile; his did the same, and he let sleep claim him as well—while also plotting a way to escape from her quarters in the morning unseen.

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

thanks for reading! tagging some peeps: @kat2609 @xpumpkindumplingx @shipsxahoy @shireness-says @ohmightydevviepuu @wistfulcynic @phiralovesloki @thisonesatellite @iverna @mryddinwilt @cocohook38 @annytecture @wingedlioness @word-bug @distant-rose @wellhellotragic @welllpthisishappening @let-it-raines @pirateherokillian @its-imperator-furiosa-default @killianmesmalls @thejollyroger-writer @ineffablecolors @laschatzi @ive-always-been-a-pirate @nfbagelperson @stubblesandwich @athenascarlet @kmomof4 @ilovemesomekillianjones @whimsicallyenchantedrose @snowbellewells @idristardis @scientificapricot @searchingwardrobes @donteattheappleshook @jrob64 @the-darkdragonfly @itsfabianadocarmo @stahlop @klynn-stormz @resident-of-storybrooke @deckerstarblanche

#cs ff #captain swan #ouat x star trek #cs smut #my ff

43 notes · View notes

happy-emmdings · 11 months

Text

Bleeding Out

on AO3

Tags: major character death, character insight, inner monologue in canon scene, hurt/no comfort

Summary: When Milah is murdered in front of him, Killian watches his entire world crushed and carried away on the salt-scened wind. He barely reacts to the severe pain and bleeding of his own body.

Word count: 1 084

He has been a fool for thinking a heart twice shattered had a chance to hold together while still being made of flesh. He should have turned it into solid rock. He should have cast it in steel. He should have thrown it into the ocean deep and leave it to fossilize. Because now its shards are piercing his lungs and he cannot breathe without a stabbing pain.

The softest touch of fingertips brushes against his jaw and he can feel the life fading out of them. Once again, he is powerless to stop it. Once again, he watches the one he loves most turn into a cold, unresponsive, empty body right in his arms. One moment a person, full of life and love and with so many horizons to see, the next a lifeless cadaver. A beating heart is nothing but sand in the wind.

He caresses her cheek one last time, unable to turn away just yet. This is the work of a coward. A coward who wouldn't even put up a fight for her, who has never deserved her beautiful, bold, courageous heart. A coward that hadn't passed his test years ago aboard this ship. Only a coward could hide behind dark magic and dare to claim the life of a woman for not wanting him. He wouldn't fight for her but he would dare seal her fate? How dare he? How dare he!

Does he have any idea what he has just done? What kind of monster is he to destroy the most precious soul in the entire world? What kind of monster is he to take a life worth a thousand times his? Can't he see that he has blocked out the sun? That the sea runs red with blood and the air is turning to smoke? Can't he see that without her there is no point? That all gold has lost its glimmer and all songs have turned to hoarse, empty gasps and all wine has turned bitter and bleak and there will never be joy in this world ever again?

Can't he see, that empty arms, that still feel the remains of a dying loved one's last warmth are a curse most horrid and that he will never ever be able to shake it off? And how dare he let him live with the remains of her last breath clinging to him like frost to a tongue? Once again, he is left behind. Once again, he is forced to watch someone leave and he's condemned to survival. As blood spills on the deck and his clothes, as it runs thick and warm between his fingers as he clutches his wrist, his whole body should be writhing in pain, but he might as well be already fossilizing. He can only feel the hazy edges of it but he knows there is more. It is hanging over his head like a wave stopped mid-motion, lurking, waiting for the cue to crush down on him and overwhelm his senses with the worst agony he has yet to taste. But not yet. It is held at bay by a pain greater still. And a new-born purpose.

A hook is a weapon as good as any other. Anything that has a sharp point can pierce, anything that has a purpose can have another. He couldn't kill the poison that took his brother, but he sure as hell can and will destroy the poison that took his love. His fate is decided the moment when he fails to fulfill that new oath on the spot. And he sees that this is why he is still alive, why he has to be alive even as everyone who deserved to live longer becomes nothing but bones in the ocean and another scar. He was a fool to think happiness was in the cards for the likes of him. No, he has not survived to find a happy ending. He is here to fulfill a different destiny. He must be an emissary of death. He must be the agent of wrath for those that cannot feel it anymore. And he has enough wrath for all of them, more than his wretched heart can hold. He can feel it pouring out through the cracks. And he lets it flood him. He lets it drown out the hopeless, lost despair. And he dons vengeance like a thick, grief-proof coat. What else is there left for him to do but destroy what has destroyed those that made life worth living? A thirst like he has never felt before takes over him. A thirst for crocodile blood.

No, he doesn't need gold to glimmer or songs to sound pleasing and merry or wine to be velvety and sweet. He doesn't need the sun to shine and the ocean to glint in its light. He needs to break what has broken him. He needs the satisfaction of annihilation. He needs to rid the world of this dastardly, abominable demon.

He has loved people whom he would have followed to the end of the earth and beyond. But now they have both fallen off the edge and he is once more left to roam the seas aimlessly like a ship without a crew. Like a wind torn sail without a purpose. The time of love is over. Now there is only one course in the stars for him. The age of hatred has begun. And he will follow it to the blue unknown. He knows what his dying breath will be. A proclamation of triumph when he will have slayed the demon.

The world sways around him as its single focal point becomes the glint of the hook he is holding. And it is then that the wave of unmatched suffering crushes down in full force. His knees buckle and his head spins in haze. And he can't see anything but red, red, red and dark spots and oh, he never knew he could hurt like this.

"Captain!" somebody calls out.

Feet pound on the wood and rush toward him. He is fading. Like Milah's heart. Like Liam's smile. Like a lantern's flame in the draft. But this darkness isn't death, it is merely slumber before he is reborn from the ashes, with a heart of stone this time. He cannot die, for he isn't truly alive anymore. His is an eternal death. A death he will live out to the last weary day. The hunt for revenge has only just begun.

#ouat fanfic #killian jones fanfic #character insight #ouat 2x04 #milah ouat #milah’s death #killian pain #mutilation #millian #it's angsty timeee

24 notes · View notes

teamhook · 1 year

Text

Un-Kissable :|: Never Been Kissed CS AU

I know I haven’t posted the re-release of Un-Kissable. I’m sorry. I am! I just didn’t want to bombard you guys with it.

I thank @ilovemesomekillianjones for being my beta for the first chapters and then the lovely@ultraluckycatnd took over. Both lovely human beings!

Art by @herhookedhero

If you still need to catch up...

Ch 4

Ch 5

Ch 6

New Chapter!!

Chapter 7

Liam Jones was known for his overprotectiveness when it came to his little brother, Killian. Liam's boss, Dakkar Nemo, encouraged his employees' awareness of the value of family. Nemo had adopted a troubled young man named Rufio and helped him turn his life around, and now the young man worked part-time for him while attending night school. Like Killian, Nemo had encouraged Liam to go to night school, but the stubbornness of the older Jones brother was not an understatement. Nemo watched as Liam's aggression was taken out on the job at hand. It was obvious something was upsetting him.

"Liam," Nemo called out.

"What?! I'm busy!" Liam snapped back.

Nemo stood quietly and said, "Alright, everyone out, except for Liam."

Liam flinched; it had been an accident. He was just engrossed with his task and the worry for his brother was making him lose his temper faster than usual.

Everyone stepped out without a whisper.

"Alright, what is bothering you so much?" Nemo asked.

"I'm worried about Killian."

"I was under the impression that Killian was a successful adult from how much you talk about him. Is he in trouble?" the older man asked, concerned.

Liam smiled; he was happy to work at Nautilus Shipyard. They were all family, so he felt comfortable sharing his concerns with his boss. "I think so, but he is too stubborn."

Nemo laughed. "I'm familiar with the family trait. Why do you think he is in trouble?"

"Killian was beaten up and he just let it happen. He didn't even try fighting back. He is too afraid to botch up his first assignment."

"He is a smart young man, Liam. I think your brother needs you to trust him. If he thinks he can do this job, you should let him prove it."

Liam sighed. "He needs me and I can't fail him again."

"You have been a good brother to him. I think he might argue you have always acted as a second father to him. He needs to do this on his own."

"Nemo, if it was Rufio, would you back down?"

Nemo considered the young man's words. He was right, getting Rufio out of the troubled past he had experienced during his foster years had been a challenge.

"Liam, what do you need from me?"

Liam smiled. "I just need a leave of absence. I think I can work on weekends if you need me. I haven't figured out everything yet, but I need to find a way to keep an eye on him."

"Of course. Would you like to speak to Rufio? Maybe he can give you an idea of what to do?" Nemo asked with a kind smile.

"Aye, I'd like that. Nemo, I'm sorry about snapping at you before. I hope he has some ideas because I'm drawing a blank." Liam sighed.

Nemo called everyone else back inside to the work area. Liam and Rufio walked to Nemo’s office to talk in private.

Once alone, they sat down.

"Nemo thought that you might be able to help. I want to help my brother. Killian got beat up while under cover for his newspaper. I just need to find a way to keep him safe," Liam said, frustrated.

Rufio listened to Liam rant about what had happened, but the moment Liam had suggested about following in his brother's footsteps and attempting to pass as a student, Rufio could not stop himself and had laughed so hard it had taken Liam a lot to not get insulted by the kid's cackling.

"Alright, then what do you suggest?" Liam asked, annoyed as Rufio's laughter subsided.

"I think he needs to find a way to fit in." Rufio paused. "Maybe a makeover of sorts. If they think he will tell on them, that might open your brother to more attacks, but if he keeps quiet for a different reason... like because he has been in trouble before and now has to stay clean… We need to give your brother a dark side. Reputation is everything. I still talk to some high school kids I knew from foster care. We can spread some rumors about Killian and once they hit the right person, it will fall into place," Rufio said.

Liam nodded. “I have an old leather jacket that might do the trick.” He thought about his brother’s appearance from the last time he saw him.

“Oh, Liam, can you find out what high school he is going to?” Rufio asked.

“What does that matter?” Liam asked.

“In my experience, it matters what kind of bullies we are dealing with. Are these kids just acting up because their parents don’t pay attention or do they like getting in trouble for the fun of it?” Rufio said matter of factly.

“I will find out. Thanks man,” Liam said with what passed as a relieved smile.

The duo ended the conversation with an exchange of phone numbers to continue later before they both went back to their original tasks.

After work, Liam went over to Killian's to check up on him and find out about the school name as Rufio had asked.

The door opened wide and he noticed Shadow looking up to him.

"Hey there, Shadow. Are you serving as a doorman for my little brother?"

"I'm right here you git." Killian picked up the cat from the floor and whispered. "Time for your sustenance."

Liam sidestepped his brother, rattling some treats inside his coat pocket, catching the attention of the feline whose ears perk up. "Don't be mad because Shadow likes me best!"

Killian rolled his eyes. "He can smell you a mile away."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, little brother."

"Younger brother. Liam, to what do I owe the honor of your visit?"

"I'm just here visiting. Oh, I brought you this old thing. I think it's still cool and you finally have grown into it. Leather never goes out of style brother."

Killian, still holding Shadow, walked towards his kitchen, Liam following close behind. Shadow meowed in his arms, annoyed he was still waiting for his food. "I know, you're hungry."

Shadow purred his agreement.

Once fed, Shadow went to his favorite spot.

Killian stared at his reflection as he tried the old jacket on. "So why are you giving me your favorite jacket?"

"I was thinking about what you said. I know you want to prove yourself. So I have been wondering how I can help and I thought this could help you fit in and if you indulge me in answering a few questions for me."

"Questions?"

"Okay, don't get mad, but I mentioned what happened to Rufio and he knows the lads you are dealing with. Knowing your enemies can prove helpful."

"Alright, let me make sure I understand. You want me to wear this like a disguise?"

"It can make you feel freer to do things that you normally wouldn't do."

Killlian stared at Liam as he talked. The words he spoke were so similar to how Miss Swan had described As You Like It when they had discussed it. Maybe it could work.

Liam called Rufio and as soon as the other picked up, he said "Hey, he is going to Storybrooke High."

Rufio tsked. "Oh, so he is dealing with the Lost Boys. It's a group of foster kids that cause trouble and I know them personally. Don't tell Nemo, but I still talk once in a while with Devin and Slightly. They don't go to Storybrooke, but they hang out at Skull Rock with the others. I have an idea how to help out.

Killian had been stressed out for days after his meeting with Sydney. He was distant in class. His appearance grew roguish by the day. It was such a change from his first day of class. The glasses were gone and the beard was transforming him without any effort.

Emma kept an eye on him out of concern she told herself, but there was something about him that pulled her attention to him. She had also noticed it was not just her attention the change was attracting. The girls were paying more attention to him.

Killian and Henry would still work together on their assignments, both oblivious to the attention the new kid was getting.

During lunch, Killian had taken to observing the "cool kids" table. Henry sat next to him to see what he was looking at and said, "You know they'll never accept you."

Killian turned to his young friend and replied, "I know, but I have to try."

Henry looked at Killian confused. "I don't understand. I'm your friend and they beat you up, but you still want to try?" Henry stood up, angry and feeling betrayed by his one friend to move to a different table.

Killian sighed but he had to try in order to keep his job. He approached Peter's table.

Peter and Felix looked at him as he walked towards them.

Felix stood up ready to fight.

Peter stayed still on the chair and gave his command to his soldier. "Wait. Are you dumb!? We can't do anything here with everyone watching. Let's just hear what he has to say-- for now."

Killian nodded his head at Peter and side-eyed Felix. "I don't want any trouble mate, I haven't said anything to anyone about who beat me up. I have kept my mouth shut," Killian said as he clenched his fist.

Peter smirked. "You should know what will happen if you open your mouth."

"I'm guessing another beating? Look mate, a word of advice? You are getting older and you will soon be suffering the consequences of your actions. How about we come to an agreement? I keep my mouth shut and you leave Henry and myself alone."

Peter laughed. "How about the first chance we get, we beat you and your friend to a pulp?"

Killian laughed. "You do know that everyone knows it was you two, right? If you think beating us up will not make it clear to everyone, including the teachers, then it will not matter if we say we didn't see a thing because you will still end up in juvie."

Peter's face morphed into a sneer. "Are you threatening us?"

"No, I'm trying to make things civil for us. I know your friends Mike and Johnny need to pass Miss Swan's class to be able to play football. How about we help them in exchange for leaving us alone and an occasional invite to Skull Rock?" Killian said with a raised brow.

Peter's eyes turned to Felix. The Darling Brothers were having a hard time keeping up their grades. Normally Peter wouldn't care, but Fiona enjoyed going to the games and Felix was smitten with Wendy. The siblings and Fiona were finally getting their food, smiling as they crossed the cafeteria to reach their table.

"I will think about it. You can go for now," Peter commanded.

High school still offered the same high importance to formal events it did when Killian was in school before. Which meant the prom and all the frivolities of being voted king and queen still applied. No one was exempt and that included Peter, courtesy of his beloved Fiona. Killian had noticed a small wedge appear between them the moment the fair to raise funds for the dance was announced. She wanted the crown and now he did too after the few arguments he lost. Prom was still at the bottom of Killian's priorities, but for the purpose of saving his job he would endure the festivities. The fair was the upcoming Saturday and he would attend.

The Darlings, Fiona, Felix, and Peter would be helping at the fair. In reality, Fiona was the one with the real power. Peter and Felix were the muscle while the Darlings were just caught in a toxic friendship.

Killian had noticed the friendly smiles Wendy would offer Henry and the shy ones he would return. That was a sure way to end up on the wrong side of Peter and Felix.

Miss Swan still asked about his attack and he hated lying to her, but he could not rat out Peter and Felix. It wasn’t just about him, Henry’s safety was at stake. Even if the lad was still upset with him. He hadn’t talked to him since the day prior at the cafeteria.

At the end of the day Killian shot a quick glance at his friend who was in deep discussion with Miss Swan. He hoped things would get back to normal. The lad was a smart kid that he thought of as a little brother. He exited the school and was about to enter his car when a van stopped next to him.

“Jones, Sydney sent me to set up surveillance. Get in, we don’t want to attract any attention,” the hooded man said.

“Robin, maybe it would look less suspicious if you weren’t driving a van that screams of stranger danger,” Killian sassed back but with a quick look around, got inside the van.

The van turned on and they drove off. Once far enough away, Robin pulled over and parked, shutting off the van. “I’m here to set up surveillance. So what do you want, the heart-shaped swan wings or the pirate skull?”

Killian’s eyes rolled. “Aye, mate, give me the swan wings shaped like a heart so the heathens in there can have a field day. The pirate skull, please. Where do you even find these?”

“I work with what they give me.” Robin worked on his laptop, ensuring the link to the hidden camera in the pin was working. “Okay, testing Killian Jones, Glass Mirror.”

“I think you are wasting your time, mate”

"Jones, stop being difficult!"

"Sidney?"

"No, it's the magic mirror on the wall. Killian I'm sorry, but the ideas you have provided haven't been too promising. You're in over your head. So this is what we are going to do. I will review the tapes, and I will find your story." With that the boss ended the transmission.

"All right," Killian sighed, deflated.

"Here's the battery and the transmitter. Plug it in. I'm sorry man. Good luck." Robin smiled encouragingly. "I'll be watching you."

"Very funny!" Killian muttered.

"I'm plenty funny, mate!"

Robin turned the van back on and returned Killian to the high school.

Tagging:

@andiirivera @caught-in-the-filter @anothersworld @apiratewhopines @artistic-writer @batana54 @beckettj @bethacaciakay @bixisarusher @branlovestowrite @brooke-to-broch @captainodonoghue @carpedzem @chasedancer17 @cocohook38 @courtorderedcake @darkcolinodonorgasm @deckerstarblanche @demisexualemmaswan @djlbg @donteattheappleshook @dovelyheart @elizabeethan @gingerchangeling @gingerpolyglot @holdingoutforapiratehero @hollyethecurious @hookedonapirate @hookedonaswanprincess @hookedonhiddles @ilovemesomekillianjones @imlaxdris71 @itsfabianadocarmo @jarienn972 @jennjenn615 @jonesfandomfanatic @jrob64 @justanother-unluckysoul @k-leemac @karlyfr13s @kday426 @killian-will-do @klynn-stormz @kmomof4 @kwistowee @kymbersmith-90 @laschatzi @lassluna @let-it-raines @lfh1226-linda @lonelyspectator12 @mariakov81 @motherkatereloyshipper @officerrogers @ohmakemeahercules @onceratheart18 @pirateherokillian @purplehawkcaptain @queen-serena88 @resident-of-storybrooke @revanmeetra87 @rumdrum91 @sailtoafarawayland @sals86 @scribomaniac @searchingwardrobes @seriouslyhooked @shardminds @shireness-says @snowbellewells @sotangledupinit @spacekrulesbians @spartanguard @stahlop @superchocovian @swanslieutenant @tehgreeneyes @the-darkdragonfly @thejollyroger-writer @thepirateandhisson @therealstartraveller776 @thislassishooked @thisonesatellite @tiganasummertree @tomeandflickcorner @ultraluckycatnd @veryverynotgoodwrites @wefoundloveunderthelight @wellhellotragic @whimsicallyenchantedrose @winterbaby89 @winterbythesea @xarandomdreamx @xsajx @zaharadessert @myfearless-love @cosette141 @grimmswan @iverna @fleurdepetite @hookmecaptain @once-upon-a-pirate-ship @undercaffinatednightmare

@mie779 @nachocheese-itsmycheese @eddisfargo @cs-rylie @4getfulimaginator2022 @betweengalaxies2

#Captain Swan #CSMM #Captain Swan Movie Marathon

21 notes · View notes

jrob64 · 2 years

Text

It’s the 1st anniversary of ‘Lonely No More’ - A Modern CS AU Based on “The Words” Music Video

Today is the wonderful and wacky @xsajx ‘s birthday, which means it’s the first anniversary of the story I wrote for her last year! I hope you have a wonderful day, my friend!

Special thanks to @spartanguard who did the manip of Emma as a FedEx driver. Even after a year, it still blows me away!

Summary: Killian Jones lives alone in his secluded little house in the country, and that’s just the way he likes it. When he discovers he can have even less contact with people by ordering supplies online, he jumps at the chance; but the fiery blonde FedEx driver who delivers them might make him rethink his lonely existence. A CS fic based on the music video for “The Words” by Christina Perri.

Rating: M

Words: 11,744

Also on Ao3 & ffn

*********

Lonely No More

It was a lonely existence, but one he had voluntarily chosen for himself. Killian Jones knew about loneliness, after all; had lived it most of his life. His childhood was spent living in a crowded, dirty city in England, yet even among all those people, he sought solitude. He had his brother and his ailing mother, and didn’t need or want anyone else, including his mostly absentee father, who abandoned his sons for good once his wife died.

Now, he lived in Maine with lots of open space around him. His little house wasn’t anything fancy, but it had everything he needed. He spent his days chopping wood, taking care of his garden, and nurturing the orchids he grew for the flower shop located in a nearby city. The trips he made to deliver them and to purchase necessary supplies, provided the only interaction he desired with other people.

Books were his friends. Books held no expectations and didn’t make him feel self-conscious or uncomfortable. He could lose himself in sea adventures, jungle safaris, and space travel, or learn about horticulture, cooking and shipbuilding.

Recently, he splurged and purchased internet service. The florist had suggested it as a way for him to order his supplies online, instead of having to make an extra trip into the city to buy them. He also set up an email account, so she could let him know ahead of time how many plants she required.

Today he was awaiting his first delivery of floral supplies, along with two new books he was excited to read. He had to admit that having everything coming to him was going to be much more convenient.

As he was tying up the stems on an orchid plant he would be taking to the shop the next day, he looked out the sunroom window and noticed a cloud of dust being kicked up along his lane. He quickly snipped the ends of the thin strings and moved through his house to emerge onto his back steps.

The white FedEx truck was stopped beside his old pickup and Killian descended the stairs to meet the driver. He could hear noises coming from inside the vehicle and figured the delivery man was searching for his packages in the back. While he waited, he leaned on his truck’s tailgate and dug some potting soil from beneath his fingernails, so he was startled when he heard a woman’s voice say, “Do you know how freaking hard it is to find your house?”

His eyes shot up to take in the scowling blonde who was jumping out of the truck to the ground, balancing two packages in her hands.

“Excuse me?” he asked, his voice sounding strange to his own ears.

She rolled her eyes. “I said, your house is almost impossible to find! I’ve been driving around for fifteen minutes and now I’m behind getting these deliveries made. Why don’t you have your house number on your mailbox or something?”

“I…I guess I’ve never thought of doing that.”

Her green eyes flashed. “Well, you should think about it! If you’re gonna live out here in the boonies, you could at least make it easier on delivery drivers!”

“I’ll take that into consideration.”

She nodded her head in satisfaction, then looked at the label on the top package. “You are Killian Jones, aren’t you?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She glared at him. “Seriously? I’m more than likely younger than you and you’re calling me ma’am?”

“Umm…”

“Emma.”

“Pardon me?”

“Whenever you order anything, I’ll probably be the one making the delivery, so you might as well know my name; it’s Emma Swan.”

“Oh. Well, it’s nice to meet you, Emma Swan, and I’m very sorry that my house was difficult for you to find. I also apologize for causing you to be delayed.”

A smile crossed her face and Killian felt like the sun had suddenly broken through the clouds. “Thanks. I only have four more deliveries to make anyway, so it’s not that bad.”

Killian realized she was still holding his boxes. “Here, let me take those. I’m sure you need to be going.”

She handed the packages to him and gave him another smile. “Yeah, I do. Now that I know where you live, I won’t need to yell at you next time, okay?”

“I would appreciate that, lass, er um, Emma.”

“I can live with ‘lass’,” she laughed, turning to head back to the truck.

Killian stood slack jawed, wondering why her laugh had such an effect on him.

She climbed onto her seat, started the engine, and called out to him, “Will I see you soon, Killian Jones?”

“Oh, uh, y-yes. I’ll probably be ordering supplies on a regular basis.”

“Okay. Until next time!”

He shifted the packages so he could raise his arm to wave, then watched the white vehicle disappear down the long lane.

*********

Killian laid on his side in bed, staring at the book in front of him, but unable to concentrate on the words. He flopped onto his back and ran his hand over his face and through his hair. Images of flashing green eyes and blonde tresses preoccupied his thoughts and he couldn’t seem to shake them.

Perhaps it was because he had so little interaction with other people, but he never reacted to the few he did meet the way he had with Emma Swan. He knew it was absurd to be so affected by someone he met for such a brief time, but there was just something about her that captured his attention.

He folded his arms behind his head, his white T-shirt stretching across his chest as he sighed. He could still hear the pleasant sound of her laughter, as well as her melodic voice - when she wasn’t yelling at him.

Giving up on doing any reading, he closed the book and placed it on the nightstand, then switched off the lamp. When he finally managed to drift off to sleep, his dreams were filled with flowing golden hair and sparkling emerald eyes.

*********

Grocery shopping was one thing Killian despised and would put off until there was barely any food left in the house. The day he realized he could buy most of his groceries online was a happy one for him.

As he checked the cupboards and made a list of items he needed, he couldn’t help but look forward to the next day delivery guaranteed by his upgraded membership. Since FedEx was named as the preferred delivery method, he knew his excitement stemmed from more than just having his food supply replenished.

The next morning, he felt the unprecedented need to dress in his best blue checkered flannel shirt with a gray henley underneath. He set out for the back of his property to chop a bundle of firewood, stopping often to survey the vehicles passing by on the highway in the distance, hoping to catch a glimpse of the white truck with the distinctive orange and dark purple logo on the side.

After carrying the wood to his house and stacking it on the porch, Killian puttered around inside; oiling a squeaky hinge, fixing the leaky bathroom faucet, and nailing down a loose floorboard in his bedroom. In between jobs, he looked out the window, checking the lane for any approaching delivery trucks.

He heated up leftover beef stew for lunch, dipping pieces of soft, white bread into the rich broth. As he ate, he flipped through a magazine, trying to find an article of interest to help distract him from thinking about her.

By mid-afternoon, he was beginning to wonder if the delivery tracking app was wrong when it showed that his packages were supposed to be delivered that day. He was outside stacking crates in the bed of his truck and folding the green tarp he used for covering the flowers, when he saw the cloud of dust at the end of his lane. His traitorous heart began to beat faster as he spotted the FedEx truck headed his way.

Not wanting to appear too eager, he finished his task and placed the tarp in the cab of his pickup, while the delivery truck came to a stop. When he glanced up, he saw the flash of a blonde ponytail disappearing into the back storage area.

By the time he walked over to stand beside the white vehicle, Emma had emerged with two large boxes balanced on top of one another. She stepped carefully onto the ground and Killian hurried to take them from her. He had assumed they weren’t heavy since she didn’t seem to struggle carrying them, but was surprised to realize the combined weight of the two boxes was rather substantial.

“How are you today, Miss Swan?” he asked politely.

“I’m fine, Mister Jones,” she smirked. “My name is Emma, remember?”

He knew he would have been nervously scratching behind his ear if his hands were empty. As it was, he felt the heat moving up his neck. “I didn’t want to be too forward.”

“So you’re a gentleman, huh?”

“Indeed I am.”

“Well, I wouldn’t have told you my name if I didn’t want you to use it.”

Killian smiled. “Duly noted.”

“I notice you have your house number added on your mailbox now.”

“Aye, better late than never, I suppose.”

Emma laughed, which caused his heart to speed up just like the last time. “All of your other delivery drivers will appreciate it, too.’

“There are no others. You’re my one and only,” he blurted, then wished the earth would open beneath his feet to swallow him.

“That’s good to know,” Emma laughed, stepping back up into her truck. “Have a good day, Killian.”

“You too, lass. Drive carefully.”

“Yes, Dad,” she grinned, then put the truck into gear and waved.

Realizing his hands were full, instead of waving, he nodded his head and graced her with one of his rare smiles, which she returned before driving away.

He carried the packages into the house, with the smile still on his face.

*********

Usually, Killian was content when he went days on end without going into the city or having any interaction with other human beings; but as the week after the delivery of his groceries progressed, he felt restless. He found himself searching the shopping app for items which would be useful, even though they weren’t necessary.

He knew he shouldn’t spend money on frivolous purchases, but since he had more than enough savings in the bank, he didn’t really feel guilty about buying a few things. Still, his finger hovered over the ‘place order’ button for several seconds before he finally tapped it.

That evening as he soaked in his vintage, claw-footed bathtub, he started having second thoughts about what he had done. He couldn’t believe he ordered things he didn’t need just so he would get to see Emma again.

Laying his head back on the rim of the tub, he sighed deeply. He was probably reading too much into her friendliness and was sure she treated all the other people on her delivery route the same way.

He leaned forward and scooped water into his cupped hands, then splashed it over his face and through his hair. Regardless of whether or not he had done the right thing, his order would arrive tomorrow.

As he pulled the plug to drain the tub, climbed out and began to dry off, he came to the conclusion that his excitement over having Emma arrive in her FedEx truck was because of the novelty of having packages delivered to his house, instead of having to make the trip into town. Perhaps seeing her would become routine, and soon his heart wouldn’t race every time he saw the delivery truck coming up his lane.

*********

“This is getting to be a habit,” Emma remarked, hopping down out of the truck with a small package in her hand.

Killian’s fingers found the spot behind his ear which always seemed to itch when he felt awkward. “Aye. I’m sure you’d rather not have to make deliveries all the way out here.”

“I really don’t mind, Killian.”

His hand brushed against hers as he reached to take the box, and the feel of her soft skin caused a tingling sensation to travel through his fingers. He noticed she wasn’t quick to pull her hand back and he lifted his eyes to look into her face. She was wearing a soft smile that he couldn’t imagine she gave to all of her other customers.

He felt her fingers slowly glide against his as she finally let go of the package and stepped back.

“I guess I’d better be on my way,” she remarked. “Do you, uh, will you have more orders arriving soon?”

“Oh, um, I…I don’t know. Possibly. I forgot a few things when I ordered my groceries last week.”

Her smile brightened. “Great! I’ll see you before long, then. Goodbye, Killian!”

“Goodbye, Emma.”

“Don’t worry - I’ll drive carefully!” she quipped before taking off.

He shook his head at her banter and stood in the driveway, until the dust created by her vehicle had completely settled.

*********

Killian was amazed at how light his heart felt in the following days. When he made his bi-weekly trip to the flower shop to deliver his pots of orchids, the florist noticed.

“You seem to be in a good mood,” she commented. “I mean, not that you’re usually grumpy or anything, but you just seem…different.”

“Do I?” he asked. “Well, this batch of flowers is of exceptionally good quality, so perhaps that’s the reason.”

She threw him a skeptical look, but didn’t make any further comments as she wrote a check for him.

*********

Killian had become engrossed in repotting some plants and wasn’t waiting outside when Emma made a delivery the following week. By the time he glanced up to see the familiar truck sitting in his driveway, she was already striding toward the door carrying a large box.

He quickly brushed his hands off over his workbench, then rubbed them down the front of his jeans. She knocked on the door just as he reached it.

“Did you forget I was coming?” she smirked through the screen door.

“No, I was just working.”

“You work from home?”

“You could say that. I grow specialty flowers to supply a florist in the city.”

While he was talking, she was peeking in the window beside the door, which looked into his sunroom. “Oh, wow! You grow those? They’re gorgeous!”

“Would you, um, would you like to come in and see them more closely, or are you not supposed to go into your customers’ homes?”

“We’re strongly encouraged not to, mostly for our own safety, but I trust you, Killian Jones.”

A bright smile stretched across his face as he pushed the screen door open, being careful not to accidentally bump her with it. “Come on in.”

She stepped into the house, glancing around for a couple of seconds before following him into the sunroom. He took the package from her hands, laid it on a chair, then stood back as she walked around his workbench, marveling over the beauty of the orchids.

After she walked completely around it, he began telling her about some of the complexities of growing the fragile flowers. She listened attentively, hesitantly reaching out to lightly stroke her fingers over the silky petals.

When she realized she had been there for over five minutes, she declared that she had to get back to work. As she made her way to the door, he plucked one of the stray blooms off of the bench.

“Swan?” he said, causing her to stop in her tracks and look back at him.

He stepped over to her and shyly held the bloom out, then ducked his head and scratched at the back of it after she took it.

“Thank you, Killian. It’s beautiful.” She twirled the stem between her fingers and looked up at him from under her lashes. “You’re very talented.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that…”

“I do. And you’re also very sweet.”

As the tips of his ears reddened, she turned, pushed the door open and made her way to the truck. He watched through the screen to see her gently lay the flower on the dashboard before driving off.

*********

The next time the FedEx truck came rumbling up the lane, Killian was sitting on his back steps, bundled in his olive green, Sherpa lined coat, and wearing a heather blue infinity scarf around his neck. It was a Thursday towards the end of October; the last leaves were clinging to the bare branches of the trees, and a front had moved through, dropping the temperatures with the first true cold snap of Autumn.

He stood up as the truck stopped and strode over to stand beside it, waiting for Emma to emerge from the back with his latest purchase. When she did, he sensed a difference in her demeanor immediately. The slight smile she had pasted on her face wasn’t natural and didn’t reach her eyes.

As soon as she handed him the box, she mumbled, “Here you go, Killian. Have a good day,” and began to climb back into the driver’s seat.

“Emma, wait,” he called, causing her to pause before getting behind the steering wheel. “Is something wrong?”

She stood stock still for several moments and he wondered if she was warring with herself about whether to confide in him or not. He gave her time, not wanting to pressure her into saying something, but hoping she would, since something was clearly bothering her.

Finally, she turned back to face him with tears shining in her eyes. “To-today is my birthday…”

Automatically he responded, “Happy birthday, Swan!” then realized two tears had escaped the confines of her lower eyelids and were tracking down her cheeks. He carelessly tossed the package he was holding onto the open tailgate of his pickup and closed the space between them.

Acting on instinct, he reached up to brush the tears off her cheeks, and the simple gesture seemed to break the dam. A few more tears fell as Killian implored, “Emma, what is it? Tell me what’s wrong.”

After several seconds, she took a deep, shuddering breath and wiped her face with her sleeve. “I’m sorry, Killian,” she whispered in a tear-thickened voice.

“You have no reason to be sorry, lass, but perhaps you could share whatever it is that’s burdening you. Is it something to do with your birthday?”

She kept her head down, as she explained, “I just…I don’t have any family - never have - and it’s hard every time my birthday comes around, because all it does is remind me that it’s been another banner year of being alone. I wish…I wish…you know what, I’ll be okay. Forget it.”

“Making a wish is one of the traditions of birthdays, I believe,” he observed. “Please tell me your wish, Emma.”

Raising her head at last, she looked at him with a sad smile, “I wish I didn’t have to be by myself on my birthday.”

“I can help make that happen, if you’ll allow me.”

“Killian, no. I didn’t tell you this so you would feel sorry for me.”

“What I feel for you is empathy, Swan. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m a bit of a recluse. I have no remaining family myself, and I haven’t gone out of my way to make any friends since moving here from England several years ago. I would be happy to keep you company on your birthday.”

“Really? Are you sure?”

“Yes, I am. Would you feel comfortable coming here to have dinner with me?”

“Um, sure. Do you want me to bring take-out from somewhere?”

He rubbed his finger behind his ear. “I thought I might cook the meal. I’m no chef, but I can hold my own. Do you have any food allergies?”

Her smile brightened. “Umm…no, no allergies, and I’m excited to taste your cooking! Is there anything I can bring?”

“Just yourself. Shall we say seven o’clock?”

“That works for me. I should probably go, so I can finish the rest of my deliveries. Thanks so much, Killian - I’ll see you later!”

“One moment, Swan. Perhaps I should, uh, perhaps we could trade phone numbers, just in case…”

“In case you want to cancel?” she asked, trying and failing, to make it sound like a joke as her smile faltered.

“Of course not. I just thought it would be a good idea to have each other’s number. That way, if you’re running late, you can call so I won’t worry.”

“Oh, okay. Let me put my number into your phone, then you can send me a text and I’ll have yours.”

Once that was done, Emma bounced up the steps of her truck and dropped into the seat. “See you tonight!” she called as she slid the door shut, fastened her seat belt, and drove off.

He watched her go with a fond smile on his face, then hurried into the house to decide what to make for her birthday dinner.

*********

By the time Killian saw headlights coming up the lane, he was pulling dinner rolls out of the oven while the loaded potato soup simmered on the stove. He stepped out onto his back porch to see a yellow Volkswagen come to a stop, and heard the hinges screech in protest when she threw open the door to climb out. She tried to close it, but it wouldn’t shut completely, so she bumped it with her hip in a move he was sure she used on a regular basis.

Turning toward him, he could see the beaming smile on her face - quite a different countenance than she’d had earlier in the day.

“Good evening, Love,” Killian greeted. Even in the low light, he saw her brows raise at his use of the term.

“Hello again, Killian,” she returned, brushing past him as he held the door open for her. “Wow! Something smells delicious!”

He held her coat as she shrugged out of it, then hung it on a hook in the entryway. “I hope you like salad and loaded potato soup.”

“I like anything, pretty much. If I was home tonight, I would probably be having leftover pizza from last week. Potato soup sounds like heaven to me!”

They moved into the kitchen where he pulled a chair out for her at his small table, went to the stove to ladle soup into two bowls, then sprinkled shredded cheddar cheese on top. He placed them on the table where the basket of rolls and plates of salad were already waiting.

“I’m afraid I don’t have much to offer you in the way of drinks,” he apologized. “I wish I had some wine or…”

“No problem. Water is fine with me.”

He took two glasses from the cupboard, dropped some ice cubes in, then filled them with water from the faucet.

Emma was stirring her soup, inhaling deeply. “I can’t wait to try this - it smells so freaking good!” she declared.

He chuckled. “Well, dig in then, Swan,” and watched her surreptitiously as she did.

“Mmmm…” she moaned after taking her first bite. “This tastes amazing!”

Her moan sent a warm sensation through his body, and he cleared his throat before speaking so his voice wouldn’t betray the wash of longing it set off in him. “I’m, uh, I’m glad you like it.”

“Did you actually make this, or have you hidden the cans you opened somewhere?”

“No cans to hide - I made it from scratch, and I grew the vegetables for the salad in my greenhouse garden out back,” he grinned, tearing off a hunk of bread to dip into his bowl.

She watched him before doing the same. “How about the rolls? Did you make them, too?”

“Ah, now those I just warmed in the oven. I had them in my freezer.”

“Oh, you just burst my bubble, Jones. I thought you were a master chef and baker!”

“Well, I didn’t have room in the oven to make both fresh rolls and your birthday cake, so I chose to make the cake,” he smirked.

Her eyes grew wide and she laid her spoon on the table. “You…you made a cake for me?” she gasped.

He slowly nodded his head. “Aye, and I hope you like chocolate. It’s a recipe of my mum’s and it’s my favorite. I also made buttercream frosting for it.”

“I love chocolate! I can’t believe you did that!”

“Well, everyone should have a cake for their birthday, although I don’t usually bother to make one for myself.”

“Do you know what I did last year? I bought myself a cupcake and a little blue star candle and took them to my apartment. Then I stuck the candle in the cupcake, lit it, made a wish and blew it out.”

“Did your wish come true?”

She looked him in the eye. “I wished I could have someone in my life to talk to, even if it was only one person. It’s one of the reasons I started working for FedEx. I thought if I was making deliveries to different houses, I would meet people, but most of the time, they’re too busy to talk, or they don’t answer my knock, so I just leave the packages at their door. Then I started coming here and, well, I guess you could say you made my wish come true, Killian.”

He ducked his head and busied himself with stirring his soup. “You’ve done the same for me, Swan. It gets lonely out here by myself, but I have no desire to live in the city. I enjoy chatting with you when you deliver my purchases, and I, uh…I have a confession to make.”

“What’s that?”

She waited for his answer while watching his ears turning red. “I…well…I’ve been ordering things I really don’t even need, just so I can see you.”

Reaching across the table, she covered his hand with her own. “I think that’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.”

He raised his eyes. “You do?”

She nodded.

“I have another confession to make,” he admitted. She squeezed his hand to encourage him. “I, uh, I asked for your phone number because I thought perhaps I could call you in between the deliveries you make out here.”

“I’d like that, Killian. I hope you won’t mind if I call you sometimes, too?”

“That would be nice, Emma.” They shared a smile, then he observed, “Perhaps we should finish our soup before it gets cold.”

*********

After they finished their dinner, Killian carried the cake in, along with dessert plates and clean forks.

Setting the cake in front of her, he apologized, “I’m sorry I don’t have any birthday candles. I’ve never had any need for them.“

“Maybe you should order some to be delivered,” she smirked, and he laughed.

“If I did have candles, how many would be necessary?” he asked hesitantly.

“Are you trying to ask me how old I am, Jones?”

He shrugged. “Maybe?”

She giggled, causing him to grin. “I’m twenty-nine.”

He began cutting the cake into large squares, then lifted a piece out of the pan to place on one of the plates. As she watched him, she inquired, “When is your birthday, Killian?”

“In January.”

“And you’ll be…?”

“Thirty-three. I’ve got a few years on you.” He laid a fork on the plate, slid it across the table to her, then set to work plating a piece for himself.

“Less than four. That’s hardly anything,” she commented.

Once he was seated again, he looked at the beautiful woman across from him. “Even though you don’t have a candle to blow out, would you still like to make a wish, Love?”

“Okay.” She closed her eyes and concentrated, until a smile crossed her face. When her eyes blinked open again, she saw him watching her. “You know I can’t tell you what I wished for or it won’t come true.”

He reached across the table to give her fingers a squeeze. “I truly hope it does.”

They ate their cake, with Emma exclaiming over how delicious it tasted. When they finished, she tried to help him clean up, but he wouldn’t hear of it. “I’ll just clear away the leftovers, then take care of the dishes tomorrow.”

He insisted on sending some of the food home with her, giving her a generous amount of soup, three rolls, and several pieces of cake, all of which he packaged and put into a cardboard box.

“I seem to have a lot of these piling up, for some reason,” he quipped, and she rolled her eyes with a grin.

Soon all the food was squared away and the two of them stood together in the kitchen, feeling a little awkward.

“Would you, um, would you like to watch some television?” he asked.

“I should probably go home. I have to work tomorrow.”

“Oh, yes, okay. Well, I’m very happy you were able to come over tonight.”

“So am I, and I can’t thank you enough, Killian. This is the best birthday I’ve had for as long as I can remember!”

“It was my pleasure, Emma. Oh, by the way, I have a gift for you before you go.”

“You don’t have to give me anything; you already made a delicious meal and cake for me.”

He took her hand and tugged her along behind him into his sunroom. “I want to do this, Swan,” he told her, stopping in front of his work table, on which sat an orchid with pale pink blooms. He picked it up and turned to hand it to her. “Happy birthday, Love.”

“Killian, I…I can’t take this! You grow these for the florist…”

“I grow these to share with people,” he interrupted, “and I can think of nobody with whom I’d rather share this one.”

She set it back on the table and wrapped her arms around him. “Thank you,” she whispered.

He returned her hug, burying his nose in her hair and inhaling her scent.

When they finally separated, he held her coat for her as she slid her arms into it, then carried the box to her car while she carefully handled the plant. They placed everything on the passenger side floor, making sure the flower was secure.

As they stood in front of the driver’s door, Killian remarked, “That’s quite the vessel you captain there, Swan.”

“It’s paid for and it gets me where I need to go.”

“Ah, of course.”

He dropped his eyes shyly, until he heard her say, “Well, I guess I should get going. Thanks again for everything, Killian.”

“You’re very welcome.”

Both of them remained still for several moments, not quite knowing how to end the evening. Finally, Killian said, “I’d, uh…I’d like to see you again, if that’s okay. I mean, besides you coming here to make deliveries. Would you be interested in going out on a proper date?”

Emma graced him with a brilliant smile. “I would like that very much.”

“I’ll call you tomorrow evening to set something up. Perhaps dinner and a movie?”

“Sounds good! I’ll look forward to it!”

Stepping forward, she pressed a kiss to his cheek, but before she could move away from him, he put his hands on her waist and pulled her closer. Looking into her moonlit eyes, he saw acceptance for what he was planning to do, and in the next moment, his lips found hers.

The kiss was gentle and sweet, and he could feel her breath quicken as his lips glided over hers. After a blissful few seconds, he reluctantly broke the kiss, licked his lips, and smiled at her.

“Goodnight, Emma. Drive safely.”

“I will. Goodnight, Killian.”

He opened the door for her, and closed it once she was settled behind the wheel with her seatbelt fastened, bumping it with his hip as he had seen her do, to make sure it was latched.

She gave him another smile and a wave as the engine rumbled to life, then turned the car around and started down the lane. Killian went back into his house, still smiling to himself, not realizing that with his kiss, he had already made Emma’s latest birthday wish come true.

*********

After spending the following day watching the clock until he knew Emma would be home, Killian was true to his word and called her. They arranged to go out the next evening to a nice, quiet, out-of-the-way diner outside the city.

Just before ending the call, he suggested wearing casual, warm clothes for the second part of their date. He thought of something to do after dinner besides a movie, but wanted to make the suggestion face-to-face with Emma, to get her honest reaction. He did ask her if she liked horror movies or if she scared easily, because he didn’t want to put her in an awkward situation during their date. She assured him that she enjoyed things that got her heart racing.

On Saturday, he made a delivery of flowers to the florist in the city, then spent a couple of hours cleaning out his pickup truck and washing it. He wished he had a more luxurious vehicle, but he knew she probably wouldn’t care, considering the car she drove.

It felt like time was moving at a snail’s pace all afternoon. He took a bath, trimmed his beard, and dressed in jeans, boots and a heavy red and black plaid flannel shirt. Then he spent some time figuring out the best route to take to her apartment, not putting his trust in his phone’s GPS, and checked his appearance several times before the clock finally showed it was time to leave.

It had been years since he last went on a date, and he hadn’t been on one at all since moving to Maine. Going out with women always made him feel awkward and anxious, so it became something he chose to forgo. Tonight, however, he surprised himself with how much he was looking forward to going out with Emma.

He pulled up to the curb in front of her apartment building almost ten minutes early, so instead of going in and knocking on her door, he sat in his truck, fidgeting and repeatedly smoothing the hair on the back of his head.

When his phone dinged with a text message, he grinned as he read it. You don’t have to sit in your truck until the exact time, you know. I’ve been ready for over an hour.

He exited the truck and looked up at the third floor, spotting her standing in one of the windows, waving at him. He grinned in return, then entered the building and took the elevator to her floor. She opened the door before he even had a chance to knock, wearing a bright, though slightly nervous, smile.

“Swan, you look…stunning,” he said sincerely, pulling a bouquet of Autumn flowers from behind his back, and causing her smile to grow wider.

“Oh, Killian! They’re gorgeous! Fall colors are my favorite! Come in so I can put these in some water.” She stepped off to the side of the doorway to usher him in, taking the bouquet from his hand and automatically bringing it up to her nose.

“Look, I haven’t killed the plant you gave me yet,” she said proudly, using her free hand to gesture toward a small table in front of the window, on which sat her birthday orchid.

“That’s good. I think if you had, it might be a new world’s record for murder of a plant!” he chuckled.

He could hear her rattling around in her small kitchen, opening and closing cupboards, followed by the sound of running water. When she emerged, she held a bright yellow plastic pitcher with the flowers inside.

“I’ve never gotten flowers before, so I don’t have a vase,” she explained, setting the pitcher on the table beside the orchid.

“You’ll need to cut the stems diagonally under running water and trim the leaves off below the water line; that makes cut flowers last a little longer,” he informed her. “There’s a little packet of plant food tucked in there to sprinkle in the water, too.”

“Should I do it right now?”

“No, it can wait until later. Are you ready to go?”

“Is this okay for what you have planned?” She swept her hand downward, indicating her dark jeans, knee-high boots, black and white striped sweater, and dark red, fleece-lined coat.

“It’s perfect. The Weather Channel says it’s only supposed to get down into the low fifties tonight, so you should be warm enough.”

“The Weather Channel, huh? What are you, like sixty years old?” She laughed as he rolled his eyes, then added, “You have me very curious about what we’re going to do.”

He opened the apartment door and allowed her to lead the way into the hall. “Right now, we’re going to eat dinner,” he teased.

“Yeah, I figured that out, Sherlock. I was talking about after we’re done eating.”

“You’ll find out soon enough,” he assured her, following a step behind as she walked down the stairs.

*********

The diner was a cozy little nook which wasn’t too crowded, and allowed them to have an uninterrupted conversation all through dinner. Killian was a bit shocked with how easily he was able to talk to her, after being alone for so many years and having limited contact with other people. She was a good listener and had him laughing with stories of some of her delivery mishaps.

At the end of their meal, he asked if she would like to have dessert or coffee. “Actually, I’d like some hot chocolate,” she said, “with lots of whipped cream and a sprinkling of cinnamon.”

“That sounds…interesting.”

She saw his raised brows. “What?”

He opened his mouth, then hesitated before responding, “Nothing.”

“Don’t knock it until you try it, buddy.”

“I’m feeling adventurous tonight.”

When the waitress brought the beverages out, he took a tentative sip, then gave a whipped cream-enhanced smile. “Not bad, Swan.”

“Told ya,” she gloated. “So when are you gonna tell me where we’re going next? I’ve been very patient.”

“Indeed you have. I’m not sure how you’ll feel about this, so if it’s something you’d rather not do, don’t be afraid to tell me.” She nodded her agreement, and he went on. “I found a farm a few miles from my house which offers haunted hayrides through the woods.”

Her eyes lit up. “Really? That sounds like fun! What time does it start?”

“The first one is at eight o-clock and there’s one every forty minutes until midnight. We should be able to go on the third one of the night.”

“Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s go get the begeezus scared out of us!”

He chuckled at her enthusiasm. “We still have time to finish our cocoa, Emma.”

“Oh, yeah. I’m just so excited! I’ve never been on a hayride of any kind before, let alone a haunted one!”

Killian was happy he was getting to witness some of her first experiences that evening, and that she was so receptive to his idea. He had worried that she would think it was a silly and childish thing to do.

Every moment he spent with the fiery blonde had him becoming more and more fond of her, and when the voices in his head started chanting that he could get hurt, he shut them up immediately. He was tired of being lonely, and was ready to take a chance with this woman, who was already well on her way to capturing his heart.

*********

The couple enjoyed the hayride, which turned out to be more humorous than scary. Emma had trouble controlling her giggles as people dressed as zombies with bad make-up jumped out at them from the woods with chainless chainsaws, rubber knives and fake machetes.

Killian didn’t mind the occasions when she was startled, because she kept jumping closer to him on the hay bale on which they were sitting. By the time the half-hour ride was over, he had his arm around her, holding her close against his side.

Before leaving the farm, they purchased hot apple cider and caramel popcorn and took it back to his house.

“Would you like to watch a movie, Swan, or will that make it too late for you to get home?” Killian asked, showing her into his living room.

“I can get home after midnight; I won’t turn into a pumpkin…or a zombie,” she smirked.

“Shall we continue on with the scary theme?”

“That’s fine with me. I like horror movies, but I don’t really enjoy watching them by myself.”

They chose a movie from Hulu together and sat on the couch as they watched, munching popcorn and sipping their cider. About an hour into the movie, when the food was gone, Emma gravitated toward where he was sitting and was soon leaning against him. He encouraged her snuggling by wrapping his arm around her shoulder and resting his cheek on the top of her head.

Killian was not a person who welcomed human contact - most of the time he would avoid it if possible. So he was surprised to realize he not only enjoyed Emma’s body being close to his, but almost craved her touch. Several times she hid her face in his chest when she knew a particularly scary scene was coming and he held her tighter, boldly pressing kisses into her hair.

When the movie ended, he reluctantly released her, allowing her to sit up. She turned to look at him and he asked, “Did you like it, Love?”

“The movie or the date?”

“Both, I guess?” he shrugged.

Instead of answering, she leaned in and kissed him. His eyes widened in surprise at first, then he let out a happy sigh and allowed his lips to caress hers in return. He felt the fingers of one of her hands find their way into the soft strands of hair at the nape of his neck, while the other slid up his arm to squeeze his bicep.

His hands didn’t stay idle, as he ran them from her waist to massage her back. He lost himself in the kiss and found himself wishing it wouldn’t end. When it did, he drew back to look into her shining eyes, then dove back in for more.

Finally, they both had a need for air and separated, though they maintained contact with their foreheads pressed together.

“Can I take that as a yes?” he grinned.

“It is most definitely a yes,” she assured him. “I can’t remember the last time I’ve had such a good time!”

“You didn’t find the haunted hayride to be a bit feeble?”

“I loved it! This date was so much fun, Killian. I truly have enjoyed every minute of it…especially the last few,” she added, winking at him.

He laughed deep in his throat and pulled her in for another hug. “I’ve had a really good time, too,” he murmured against her temple. “Would you be interested in going out again?”

“I’m assuming you mean with you?”

“That was kind of the idea, yes.”

She pressed her lips to his again. When she pulled back after several sweet moments, he licked his lips and said, “Not that I’m complaining, Love, but do you ever just answer with a yes or no?”

She threw her head back and laughed, and he took the opportunity to scatter small kisses along the creamy skin of her throat. Her sudden intake of breath told him the effect they had on her.

“I…I would love to go out with you again, Killian; more than once, if possible.”

“I think that’s entirely possible.” He settled her against his chest once more and they sat comfortably together, her fingers finding the gold chain around his neck, while his stroked up and down her upper arm.

The chimes of his grandfather clock signaled the hour of one o’clock and he reluctantly sat up and put some space between them. “I’d better get you home, Swan.”

She heaved a sigh. “Yeah, I guess so. You probably need your beauty sleep.”

“It’s how I retain my youthful glow,” he responded cheekily.

She laughed again and he realized he could listen to that sound for hours on end, if given the chance.

Killian went out to start the truck while Emma put her boots and coat back on. Soon they were on the road back to her place.

“Do you like living in the city?” he inquired as they drove along the highway.

“Not really, but I’m not lucky enough to own a house out in the country.”

“Lucky is a good word for it. I happened to be in the right place at the right time to purchase it, and got it for a steal. It’s quiet and far away from other people, so it has plenty of privacy, which I value.”

“I figured that out by the number of things you order so you won’t have to make trips into the city.”

He glanced over at her with a shy smile. “I don’t allow many people in, Emma. In the past, I’ve found it very difficult to trust them, because they always let me down.”

“I can identify with that.”

“You, uh, you said you never had a family…”

“Nope. I was abandoned at birth and never got adopted.”

“Ah, I see. I actually had a family, but my mum died when I was very young, my father abandoned my brother Liam and me, then Liam was killed in an accident. I’ve been alone for nearly fifteen years now.”

“It sucks, doesn’t it?”

“Aye, but I’ve gotten used to it.”

Silence fell for a while as the truck passed three mile markers. Finally, Emma broke it by quietly asking, “Do you think you would like being a little less lonely?”

He glanced over at her before directing his eyes back to the dark road. “I would if it meant we were being less lonely together.”

*********

When they arrived at her apartment building, Killian hopped out of his side of the truck and hurried around it to open her door, taking her hand as she exited and not letting it go. They took their time walking up the three flights of stairs, exchanging few words, but numerous smiles with each other.

“Do you want to come in?” she asked as they stopped outside her apartment door.

“I might want to, but I really should get back home.”

“Busy day tomorrow?”

“Not really, but I was planning on calling a certain lovely lady at some point in the day.”

“Lucky girl.”

He moved closer to kiss her briefly. “I guess you are.”

Looping her arms around his neck, she initiated another kiss, this one lasting far longer. Pulling back at last, she said, “I had such a good time tonight, Killian. Everything about it was perfect.”

“I’m very happy to hear it. Shall we do it again soon?”

“I would really like that. Will I, um, will I be making any deliveries to you this week?”

“I do have some floral supplies ordered.”

“Good.”

They shared another lengthy kiss before he stepped back. “Goodnight, Emma.”

“Goodnight, Killian.” Unlocking and opening her door, she threw him one last dazzling smile, then walked inside and closed it behind her.

He stood leaning against the wall for a few more moments, then blew out a breath and touched his fingers to his lips, remembering the way they tingled when they were touching hers.

********

In the following weeks, Emma and Killian called or texted each other daily, and went on several more dates, using every opportunity to get to know one another better. He looked forward to the days when she made a delivery to his house, since it gave him another chance to see her briefly.

It became more and more difficult for him to say goodbye to her at her apartment after their dates. Sometimes he would accept her invitation for hot chocolate and they would talk and kiss for an hour or so, but he never pushed it any further. He wanted her to know that he respected her and would wait until she decided the time was right to take their budding relationship to the next level.

Christmas was quickly approaching and the couple had been dating for nearly two months. Early one evening, Killian was beginning to worry when Emma wasn’t answering his phone calls or texts. He knew it was past time for her to be home from work, and because there had been periods of freezing rain throughout the day, he started to imagine the worst when he thought of her having to drive her delivery route on icy roads.

He was pacing back and forth across the kitchen, hoping his phone would light up with her name, when headlights illuminated the room. Knowing there was only one person it could possibly be, he threw on a coat, hurried out the back door, and jogged down the steps.

She was bumping her car door closed with her hip as he reached her. “Swan, what are you doing here at this time of night? Is everything okay?”

“Everything is fine. I just have a delivery to make.”

“A delivery? I don’t think I’m expecting anything. What is it?”

She took a step forward and ran her hands up his chest. “Me.”

His eyebrows raised in surprise and it took a second for what she was saying to register. When it did, he put his hands on her hips and pulled her closer. “Is that right?”

Looping her arms around his neck, she ghosted her lips against his as she said, “Yes, it is.”

“Shall we go inside, Love?”

She leaned back and looked into his eyes. “Just so we’re clear, Killian - when we go inside, I want more than one of our usual make-out sessions, no matter how much I enjoy them. Is that…is that okay with you?”

“Well, it would be rather rude of me to reject such a special delivery,” he chuckled a little nervously. Then he grew more serious. “Emma, I…it’s been a long time since I was in any kind of relationship, and it didn’t end well. I don’t want to…to…what I mean is…”

She took his hand and started leading him to the house. “Let’s talk inside. I’m freezing.”

After shedding their coats and boots, they sat together on the couch with their fingers intertwined. “What were you trying to tell me, Killian?” she asked, watching his thumb rub over her knuckle.

“The last woman I dated broke my heart. That’s one of the main reasons why I made the decision to leave England all those years ago, and I haven’t dated since. So what I’m trying to say is, I’m out of practice.”

She twisted in her seat, and the next thing he knew, she had flung her leg over his lap and was straddling him. Her hands came up to the sides of his face and she leaned her forehead against his.

“I’ve heard it’s like riding a bicycle,” she said. He chuckled and she sat back to look at him. “My sexual experiences have been very few and far between, too, but we can figure it out together. If you want to, that is.”

“Oh, I want to, Emma - that’s not the problem at all. It’s just that, in the past…”

She put two fingers over his lips. “Let the past stay in the past - those are ghosts we can’t control. This is now, and I want you. I know the scariest part is letting go, but I’m yours to choose, so why don’t you take what’s right in front of you, Killian?”

He contemplated what she said for less than two seconds before surging forward to engage her in a passionate kiss. It grew increasingly heated until he felt that if he didn’t do something soon, he was going to internally combust.

He wrapped her securely in his arms and pushed to his feet, not breaking contact with her lips. Her legs automatically went around his waist and she moaned deeply into his mouth, causing him to nearly stumble.

His bedroom seemed so much farther away than the few steps it actually was, but when he finally made it to the edge of his bed, he eased her onto it gently. Then he stood looking down at her as she reached for him, her hair spread out in a tangled halo, her lips kiss-swollen, and her eyes dark with desire.

“Killian, please,” she panted, “I need you.”

Her fingers scrambled for the button of his jeans before he stilled them with his hands. “I…I don’t have any protection,” he admitted. “I’ve been meaning to get some, but…”

“I’m covered and clean. Been on the pill for months to regulate my cycle,” she explained, pulling her hands free. “Do you have any other excuses?”

“No, no excuses. There is just something I need to tell you. I know this may be too soon for you to hear, but I want to say it so you understand this isn’t just a one-time thing, to scratch an itch.”

She swallowed hard as she looked into his eyes, the expression in them so intense she was almost afraid to find out what he was going to say. “What is it?” she managed to ask.

“I…Emma…I’m in love with you,” he stated, tenderly brushing her hair away from her face.

“Y-you are?” she squeaked.

“Utterly and completely. I think I have been ever since the moment you yelled at me during that first delivery you made. I’ve been wanting to tell you, but I didn’t know how, and I didn’t want to take this next step before I did.”

“You actually love me?” she asked, with disbelief lacing her words.

“Aye, Sweetheart. I love your sense of humor, your determination, your boldness, and your stubborn streak.” She grinned at that. “I also love your ability to see past the walls I’ve built to keep people out, in order to see the lonely person inside. No one has ever made the effort to do that before.” He paused a moment, before continuing, “But don’t worry, Love. I’m not telling you this to pressure you into saying…”

“I love you, Killian.”

“…it,” he finished, a look of awe crossing his face. “Do you really?”

“Yes. At least, I think I do, if this is what being in love feels like. I’ve never felt it before. All I know is that I think about you all the time…”

“Same.”

“And every time I talk to you, my heart races and…”

“I can’t stop smiling.”

“Exactly! And whenever you touch me, it’s like my skin is…is…”

“Like an electrical current is running through it?”

“Yes! Is that what being in love feels like?”

“I assume so. I’ve never been in love before, either.”

Emma giggled adorably. “Well, now that we’re clear on how we feel about each other, what else is keeping you from ravaging me?”

He grinned at her and ran his hands up her sides underneath her sweater. “Just this jumper,” he said as he pulled it over her head. “And these jeans, and bra, and…you’re wearing far too many clothes, Swan.”

“Hmmm, I guess we better do something about that. You have a lot of clothes on too, you know.”

In a flash, she tackled him and had him on his back in the middle of the bed, while she knelt above him, undoing the fastener of his jeans and pulling the zipper down. He lifted his hips to help her tug them down his legs until he was in his boxers, and she licked her lips as she took in the sizable bulge he was sporting.

She felt his hair tickling her fingers when she ran them up his legs and into the openings of his underwear. One hand fondled his balls while the other found his shaft, stroking it lightly. Her eyes moved up his body to watch the effect she was having on him.

His eyes were closed and he was biting his lower lip. His hands reached up to grip the pillow under his head and he groaned, “Bloody fuck, Emma! That…that feels so good!”

She continued running her hand along his velvety skin, stopping periodically to brush her thumb across his slit, until he gasped, “P-please stop, Love. I…I don’t know if I can…hold back if you keep doing that.”

She gave him one more gentle squeeze, then removed her hands and sat looking down at him with a smirk, before swinging around on the bed to yank off her socks. As she reached for the button of her jeans, he stopped her. “Let me do that, Love.”

She hopped up off the bed to stand in front of him, clad only in her bra and jeans. “Okay, but I get to finish stripping you first.”

“As you wish,” he conceded.

She pushed his flannel shirt off his shoulders and, once he pulled his arms free, lifted his henley over his head. Seeing that she still hadn’t reached bare skin yet because of the white undershirt he wore, she blew out an exasperated breath.

“Holy shit, Jones! How many layers of clothes are you wearing?”

“I live in Maine and it’s the middle of winter. What do you expect?”

“I expect to get naked with you, but I didn’t know it was gonna take until the New Year to get you there!”

He laughed as she grabbed the hem of the T-shirt to drag it up his body. Her eyes danced with delight as she took in his muscular chest with its generous peppering of hair. He tried not to squirm as she lightly ran her fingers through it and stroked along his ribcage.

“You’re gorgeous,” she breathed, watching her fingers as they moved.

“Not nearly as much as you,” he responded, bringing his hands up to spread them over her sides, and rubbing his thumbs under the elastic of her bra. As his hands slid around to the back of it, he looked up at her through his lashes. “May I?”

She nodded and held her breath as he made quick work of the fasteners, then she pulled her arms through and let the bra drop to the floor.

Killian lovingly caressed her breasts, strumming his thumbs across her nipples, which hardened immediately under his ministrations. “Beautiful,” he whispered.

He bent to take one of her pebbled nipples between his lips, running his tongue across it, then sucking lightly. When it garnered a gasp and soft moan from her, he sucked harder, while his left hand squeezed and fondled the other breast.

Emma’s eyes closed and her head dropped back as she enjoyed the sensations passing through her body. Her fingers found their way to his hair and she scratched through it, giving little tugs to the ends.

Every sigh and utterance went straight to his groin and soon he was even harder than her stroking had left him. He moved his mouth down her stomach before realizing she was still wearing her jeans. He fumbled with the button for a few seconds before she reached down and undid it herself.

“So impatient,” he growled, undoing the zipper and shoving her jeans past her hips.

She peeled them off, stepped out of them and kicked them aside, as his hands moved around to squeeze her ass, while he nibbled on her hip. She went to work in earnest to completely wreck his hair.

“Touch me, Killian,” she begged.

He hooked his fingers into the sides of her panties and quickly disposed of them, inhaling deeply to take in the heady scent of her arousal. Now that he had her completely naked, he guided her back to the bed, encouraging her to lay down.

Before she did, Emma helped him remove his boxers. She knew by feeling him that he was well-endowed, but seeing it made her eyes widen. “That’s quite a package you’ve got there, buddy.”

He laughed. “I hope you’ll enjoy the delivery I make to you!” he said with a lopsided grin, causing her to roll her eyes playfully.

Finally lowering herself to the bed, she scooted back and laid down. He aligned himself beside her, looking into her face. “You are truly a very beautiful woman, my love,” he said, before leaning in for a sweet and tender kiss.

He ran his fingers across her collarbone, along the side of her breast, and down her ribcage. She giggled a bit at the tickling sensation and then drew in a quick breath as his fingers pressed between her thighs. She automatically widened them to allow him better access and moaned as he swiped through her slick folds.

“So…so wet, Swan,” he declared, watching his fingers stroke her, picking up more of her creamy essence on each pass.

“Mmhmm. K-Killian, please. Get inside me. Make me…make me come,” she whimpered.

In response, he tentatively pushed a finger into her heat. “More…” she encouraged.

Nodding, he pulled out and added a second on the next gentle thrust. “How does that feel, Love?”

“Insanely good,” she gasped, placing her hand over his, urging him to go deeper.

He continued working her up while his mouth kissed up her body to give attention to her breast.

Her head was rolling side-to-side on the pillow, her eyes closed and her mouth open to emit short panting breaths. He could feel her legs begin to quake as she drew them up and let them fall open, allowing him more freedom to explore.

“Can you take more?” he asked quietly.

Unable to form words at the moment, she simply nodded her head up and down. He pulled his glistening fingers free, knocking her hand away, and slowly pressed three fingers into her, watching her face carefully to discern any discomfort. Once they were completely enveloped in her welcoming heat, he twisted and curled them, then rolled his thumb over her bundle of nerves.

The effect was immediate and intense as her walls squeezed his fingers and she cried out, “Yes! Killian!”

He continued to stroke her as her body gradually relaxed, and his mouth latched onto her nipple again, sucking and licking to help draw out her ecstasy a bit longer.

When she finally came down from her high, she opened her eyes. “You call that being out of practice?” she teased.

He slid his fingers out of her and dragged them up her body, leaving a trail of her arousal which he followed with his tongue. Reaching her mouth at last, he uttered against her lips, “Perhaps it IS like riding a bicycle,” then plunged his tongue into her mouth.

After overcoming her surprise at the sudden intrusion, she gave back as good as she got, filling the room with sounds of clashing teeth, smacking lips, heartfelt moans, and heavy breathing. He settled his body over hers and her legs came up to encircle his hips.

Feeling her wet, hot, heat rubbing against his cock, he began grinding to add some friction. “Fuck, Emma! Feels so good!” he panted. “I need more!”

She desperately nodded. “Yes, pleeease!”

Loosening her legs, she let them fall to the mattress, giving him room to maneuver.

“Guide me, Love,” he requested, dropping his forearms to rest on either side of her.

Taking the opportunity to run her hands through the soft hair on his chest again, she slid them down his body to his fully erect member, drawing the head through her abundant slickness.

Killian was struggling not to thrust into her hand and come before he even had the chance to get inside her. “I…I love you, Emma,” he gasped. “Let me show you how much.”

Without wasting another second, she positioned him at her opening, then moved her hands to his ass, squeezing it encouragingly. He began to enter her at an achingly slow pace and when she looked up, she could see the cords of his neck standing out, his head thrown back, teeth clenched, and eyes closed tightly.

“Don’t hold back, Babe,” she pleaded. “Just let go. You won’t…you won’t hurt me.”

He pulled back until just his tip was still within her, then thrust his hips forward to enter her more deeply. Repeating this motion a few more times, he finally stilled balls deep and dropped his head to her chest.

“Bloody hell, you feel amazing, Love! I could live the rest of my life right here!”

“That…that might be a bit…inconvenient, but…I wouldn’t object!” she stammered.

He gripped her shoulders from underneath and began to move, slowly at first, but picking up speed as the sensations started to overwhelm him. She bent her knees and drew her legs up alongside his body and the new angle added to the pleasure.

With every snap of his hips, her breath caught, her hands roaming up and down his back and buttocks, her nails scratching against his skin, which heightened his arousal and drove him toward the edge faster than he wanted.

“Emma…I can’t…I’m going to…”

“Me…too!” Her knees tightened around him and her hips raised off the bed, her legs shaking with her impending release.

He plunged into her once more and suddenly she was flying. The throbbing of her walls along his swollen cock was his undoing, and with another thrust, he joined her. Feeling his release washing through her, she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him against her and letting their sweat mingle as their hearts beat erratically in their chests.

“I love you,” she murmured, her lips finding their way to the hollow of his throat, then nuzzling into the juncture of his shoulder.

He rolled them over to reverse their positions and wrapped her securely in his arms. “I love you, too.”

As their breathing evened out and their bodies cooled, Killian reached down to find the blanket and pulled it over both of them. “Mmmm, can I just stay here all night?” she mumbled sleepily.

“I think that’s a grand idea, Love.”

She lifted her head to look into his face. “Do you mean it?”

“I can think of nothing I want more than to hold you in my arms for the rest of the night, my love.”

“You know I have to work tomorrow, don’t you? It’s the Christmas season so we’re swamped.”

“I’ll wake you early so you can get to work on time.”

“Deal, but be warned - I’m not a morning person.”

“I’ll be cautious.”

They fell silent for several minutes while she enjoyed the soothing movement of his hands kneading the skin of her back. She was just starting to doze off when his voice rumbled against the top of her head. “Does it have to be just for tonight?”

“What do you mean?”

“Will you…could you make a special delivery to me again tomorrow night?”

She rested her chin on his sternum and grinned up at him. “I think I could do that.”

“I can pick you up, so you don’t have to drive all the way out here by yourself.”

“That’s not necessary. I’m used to doing things by myself.”

“But you don’t have to, Emma. You…we…aren’t alone anymore.”

A smile lit up her face. “That’s true. We have each other now.”

“That we do, and you are always welcome here. I want you here - as often as possible.”

“You might regret that offer.”

“Never.”

She sighed happily and laid her head back on his chest. “Thank you, Killian.”

“For what, Love?”

“For opening your heart to me and making me feel wanted, beautiful, special and loved.”

“You are all of those things, Sweetheart.”

He could feel her smile against his skin. “And for giving me a place to belong,” she added.

“You belong right here,” he said, patting the spot over his heart. “I want to thank you too, Emma, for taking a chance on me, by giving me your heart and blessing me with your love. I feel very lucky, and obviously less lonely, having you in my life. When I think of the hell I had to walk through, I wouldn’t trade a day of it, because it led me to you.”

She raised her head again and her lips found his for a long, languid kiss. “I know what you mean, and I feel the same way, too; no longer lonely and very lucky to have found you,” she whispered afterwards.

They decided it would be a good idea to clean up a bit before going to sleep, so he led her into the bathroom. When they returned to the bedroom, he pulled on flannel sleep pants, and offered her the matching shirt, which she tugged over her head.

As he pulled open a dresser drawer to grab another, Emma put a hand on his arm to stop him. “It might be the middle of winter, but it’s a shame to cover up that sexy chest hair. I promise I’ll keep you warm,” she said with a sly grin.

He didn’t argue, knowing that he would give her anything her heart desired. They climbed back into bed and shared some sweet kisses, then Emma turned onto her left side and reached back to find his arm, wrapping it around herself and pulling it up between her breasts. He scooted closer and pressed himself against her back, sighing contentedly as he buried his nose in her hair.

“I love you, Emma. I’ll see you in the morning,” he murmured.

She yawned before replying, “I love you, too, Killian. Goodnight.”

As they drifted off to sleep in each other’s arms, their hearts a perfect match, that night became the first of the rest of their lives together; a new beginning for both of them, never to be lonely again.

*********

If you’re reading this story for the first time, thank you for giving it a try, and if you’ve read it before, rereads are the best kind of compliment! Thanks to all of you who are reading, commenting and reblogging!

Tagging: @xsajx @hookedmom @kymbersmith-90 @kmomof4 @lassluna @pirateherokillian @teamhook @stahlop @elizabeethan @whimsicallyenchantedrose @resident-of-storybrooke @therooksshiningknight @jennjenn615 @lfh1226-linda @ilovemesomekillianjones @killianswannn @stories-enchanted @eleveneitherway @withheartfulloflove @kday426 @lyssapup27 @swanlovato @djlbg @kristi555 @laschatzi @xarandomdreamx @lkles08 @wyntereyez @bubblegum1425 @xhookswenchx @yasbio2015 @tiganasummertree @winterbaby89 @wefoundloveunderthelight @hollyethecurious @let-it-raines @jonesfandomfanatic @searchingwardrobes @dreamingdreamsalways @oncechicagolove @andiirivera @gingerchangeling @everything-person @klynn-stormz @qualitycoffeethings @vampcoffeegyrl23 @enchanted-swans @ohmakemeahercules @donteattheappleshook @bluewildcatfanatic @the-darkdragonfly @demisexualemmaswan @lavenderbudd @grimmswan @spartanguard @flslp87 @ultraluckycatnd @thisonesatellite @captainswan21 @zaharadessert @mariakov81 @snowbellewells @xouatxcs @kiwistreetswan @batana54 @nadine200179 @probalicious17 @courtorderedcake @julesep3026 @jackieorioncat @whatthehell102082 @jarienn972 @sthonour @linda8084 @pirateprincesslena @daxx04 @winterbythesea @artistic-writer @cocohook38 @captainswan4life85 @molly958 @kingofmyheart14 @badwolfreturns @itsfridaysomewhere@fallingforthecaptain @onceratheart18 @strangestarlighttree @omgmarvelousmorgan @justanother-unluckysoul @mrs-potato-but-likes-tomato @anothersworld @deckerstarblanche @purplehawkcaptain @superchocovian @k-leemac @citygirlscowboy @laughterandbooks @sotangledupinit @apiratewhopines @huntressandlioness1 @cosette141 @gingerpolyglot @motherkatereloyshipper @cs-rylie

#csff #lonely no more #1st anniversary #happy birthday saj #jrob64 #CS modern AU #based on the words music video #cs fluff #cs fanfiction #captain swan fan fiction #CS fic #captain swan ff

37 notes · View notes

snowbellewells · 2 years

Text

Self Promo Sunday: “Keep You Closer (Can’t Let Go)”

Good morning folks, and hope this finds you well. I’ve just unearthed this little one shot from the collection and made some art for it, and it seemed like a peaceful, soothing one to share this morning. This is post 6x11, picking up almost from the very end of that episode, minus the sidetrack to August's typing shed. Most of the time, I try to pretend 6x10 and 6x11 didn’t even happen in OuaT. It was like they almost gave me everything I had wanted: them returning to the EF, Henry getting to be a knight, Emma experiencing being a princess and having been raised by her parents -- but then turned it all horribly on its head so that I couldn’t enjoy any of it. Needless to say, right after the episode, I had to write fix-it/missing moment fic to soothe my pain. That - and a well-timed first listen of a country song - brought about this little fic.

(The lyrics at the beginning and end are from Florida Georgia Line's "H.O.L.Y.")

Can also be found on AO3 or on ff.net

Summary: Upon her return from the Wish Realm, Emma Swan just needs a moment to hold onto those she loves most and keep them close to her - and she's going to take it.

"I couldn't find a day, I didn't feel alone

I never meant to cry, started losin' hope

But somehow baby,

You broke through and saved me

You're an angel, tell me you're never leavin'

'Cause you're the first thing I've found I can believe in…"

After the commotion on the street subsides, the hooded figure from her vision has disappeared (Gold and Belle's son, as it turns out, because – of course it is, why not?) and her pulse stops hammering in her ears, Emma Swan is still hard pressed to loosen her grip on either her son or her pirate. She finds that she has to a bit though, as Henry is starting to squirm and complain good naturedly that he's glad to see her too, but he still needs to breathe. Her father jostles in, needing to hold his daughter for a moment as well and reassure himself of her return, and in short, they can’t make it home for the night clasped in an awkward four-way hug as they are.

Of course, once that initial embrace of adrenaline-fueled relief and joy is broken, there is much to do – as there always is. They have to figure out where Gideon might have vanished and if there's an immediate danger from him, if they should track Gold down and try to force answers from him, and they also need to acclimate this new and different version of Robin to what must seem to him a strangely cockeyed modern world. When everyone has been introduced to him though, Emma is willing to leave that to a still flushed, rather wide-eyed Regina. For a moment – and she tugs on Killian's hand, shooting him a look he returns knowingly, giving her the sense he gets exactly what she is thinking with his affectionate smile – she wants to tease their mayor about 'yearning looks and doe-y eyes', but she holds back. The former Queen has not had her actual True Love himself returned to her, but rather some sort of alternate copy, and that is going to be more than enough for the other woman to shoulder. While Regina may be due some good natured ribbing in return for past snark, Emma can't find it in her heart to dish it out just now.

She wants to speak to August as well, but that will keep for tomorrow; now she wants nothing more than to go home and hold her family close. They all troop back to the house by the water, stumbling exhausted up their front steps. David at last reluctantly parts ways with them to relieve Granny of babysitting duty and check on her younger brother. Emma promises they will come for a late lunch the next day and seriously discuss what they're going to do to right her parents' curse once and for all. It is long overdue for their focus, and she sees it in her father's weariness and heavy heart.

She relishes another tight hug from him with his hand cradling the back of her head. It lends more comfort than she would readily admit after just being in a realm where he was gone and she could never have such an embrace again. Her heart warms with gratitude once more to know that alternate world wasn't real, wasn't permanent, as she watches her dad head off down the street to his and her mom's loft apartment.

Wearily, after stepping into the house with her True Loves, she shucks her leather jacket in the entryway, offering a faint smile of thanks to Henry as he wordlessly takes it from her to hang on the hooks by the door. When he comes back and hugs her tightly, clinging for a few moments in a way he hasn't for quite some time, tears start in her eyes for her brave, good hearted boy swiftly becoming a man before her eyes. She holds onto him just as tightly, swaying back and forth and murmuring soothing words under her breath. She's just thinking that he will love to hear about his Wish Realm self – a newly minted knight and prince of the kingdom riding out on quests wherever he is needed – when, with a sheepish grin and a surreptitious snuffle, Henry seems to want a bit of space to recover himself. "I'm gonna go call Violet and let her know you're back. She was worried about you too," Henry says. And then he's gone – clumping up the stairs all big feet and overlong, lanky limbs; the thumps from the floor overhead still sounding until they hear the muffled thud of his bedroom doom closing.

Shaking his head as if pleasantly amused by the lad's exuberance and changeable teenage moods, Killian is swift to take her hand and lead her forward into the living room. He doesn't have to do much urging to get her worn, dazed self to settle in the corner of the couch where she usually snuggles up, but she does shoot forward again and start to protest when he kneels before her and starts to remove her boots. "Killian, stop! You don't have to – "

But he gives her a terse shake of the head, searching her eyes with his encompassing gaze as he catches her hands reaching forward to halt him and brings them to his lips, pressing kisses to her knuckles. "Let me, Swan…Emma…please. I didn't know where you were…what was happening to you… Just let me do this?"

Sighing, she deflates, allowing him his way in whatever offers him a modicum of comfort and normalcy. In truth, she is so glad to be with him again, here together in their home, that in itself is enough to relax her nearly into slumber.

She closes her eyes for a moment, resting her head against the back of the couch, and savoring the feel of his strong hands caressing her aching feet as he bares them, wishing they could always be this close – that the world outside would finally leave them alone for even a few hours at once. Reaching her hand out sleepily, she runs her fingers through his dark hair, urging him up close enough to kiss fully and then mumbling against his lips, "Come here Pirate. I need to feel you next to me."

As requested, Killian is beside her in an instant, but before he can wrap her up in his arms and lull her sufficiently into a much-needed sleep, Emma stills him, reaching out herself to trace his beloved features, once more looking as she has come to know them. She smooths a shock of his coarse fringe back off his forehead, lovingly stroking the strands for a moment as if they are great treasure.

Her fingers move on to dance over his temple and the bridge of his nose, and for a moment her pirate's brow quirks in puzzlement, wondering what she is doing, but not willing to speak or break this quiet spell between them. As her fingertips trace the old healed cut high on one cheekbone, and then the outline of his full, strong mouth, his eyes slip closed; relaxing under her ministrations much as she had done with his minutes before, surrendering himself to her need to touch, to assure herself that he is right within her reach.

Emma can't quit touching him. She needs the warm, soft feel of his skin beneath her hands as assurance that she won't blink and find him taken from her again. It's only when her small, deft hands slip inside his half unbuttoned shirt, and Killian feels her caressing each mark and brand, outlining each muscle and sinew, that he senses something else has happened beyond their painful separation, something that she is now trying to convince herself is over – or wasn't real at all – through feeling as well as sight, by cataloging every dip and curve of him, to make sure he is as he should be.

Still, Killian makes no move to stop her, to ask questions, until Emma undoes the last of the shirt's fastenings, pulls it from his arms and off his torso with breathless help from him, and then presses herself against his bared skin, ear to his pounding heart, face buried in his scarred chest, and he feels a little shudder go through her, the one small outward sign of what he is more and more certain must be some dreadfulness she is hiding.

"What is it, Emma?" he whispers, hand coming up to smooth over her golden fall of hair, now loosed from its near-constant ponytail for the night and hook resting at her hip lightly.

From where she has curled herself nearly into his lap, his princess murmurs against his collarbone, "I don't want to let you go. Just stay here a little longer. Please, Killian?"

The soft, reverent pads of her fingers trace over his skin, scratching through the dark hair across his chest and stomach and around to his shoulders and back, along various marks of floggings, a survived stabbing, burns and the other traces of an abnormally long life full of violence and pain. Yet, as she does so, as those gentle fingers touch the places he still struggles to lay bare, even for her eyes alone, a soothing balm, an air of healing rolls over the scored and mottled flesh – reaching both and easing their frayed sanity in each other's presence.

"I'm right here, Love," he manages hoarsely, lips in the soft hair at the crown of her head. "As long as you wish…There's nowhere else I would want to be."

"Good," she husks, the smallest of more normal smiles quirking the corners of her mouth up as she finally stops seeking every inch of him feverishly and wraps her arms around his torso, clearly preparing to settle in for the night.

There is a peaceful stillness between them for several moments before she offers, not looking at him, but still speaking into his skin, disinclined to pull away from her pirate, even for moment. "There was another you…in that realm. And he was…"

She pauses, obviously searching for words, and though Killian is now achingly curious, wondering if that is what has brought on her desperate need to be so close, to examine each detail of him now, he senses a bit of lightness is in order. "And was I still my devilishly handsome self?" he teases.

Her brow arches sardonically at him and she hums in her throat. "In a manner of speaking," she settles on finally. Then her face sobers, and his chest squeezes at the bereft looks that crosses it once again, "but that's just it…you weren't you. And seeing you there before me – but not – made me miss you even more. I needed you – the real you – so much it hurt." Her hand inches between their bodies to press against her own heart as if holding in a physical pain.

He takes that hand in his gently and clasps it to his chest. "I am here now, Lass. Trust me, I won't leave you."

"But how long before we're torn apart by something we can't control? Before we lose each other again?" she beseeches plaintively, her voice small and broken, the fear plain in her green eyes.

"It doesn't matter," he says firmly, holding her gaze and blatantly offering the same comfort she gives him with her love and her trust. "Wherever we are sent, whoever tries to separate us, you will always find me. I have faith in that. And, Emma, I will always always find you."

When they both drift off to sleep some minutes later, tangled together in a tight embrace that the worst villain couldn't have unraveled with the most powerful curse, she has chosen to believe it as much as he. That vow, that security, has enveloped and healed them both.

"You're the healing hands where it used to hurt,

You're my saving grace, you're my kinda church…

'Cause you're the first thing I know I can believe in…"

Tagging a few who might enjoy: @kmomof4 @searchingwardrobes @jennjenn615 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @laschatzi @jrob64 @apiratewhopines @elizabeethan @donteattheappleshook @the-darkdragonfly @spartanguard @therooksshiningknight @tiganasummertree @optomisticgirl @wefoundloveunderthelight @sotangledupinit @justanother-unluckysoul @xhookswenchx @stahlop @xsajx @gingerchangeling @kday426 @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @winterbaby89 @linda8084 @lfh1226-linda

#self promo sunday #cs one shot ff #6x11 missing moment ff #keep you closer (can't let go)#6b fix-it fic #captain swan ff

26 notes · View notes

lilacmoon83 · 1 year

Text

Lightning in a Bottle

Also on Fanfiction.net and A03

Chapter 77: Call Sign, Pt 2

Emma looked at her reflection in the full length mirror. Margaret had picked out a beautiful dress for her and she looked stunning, however, she had never been more nervous.

"Were you nervous at all on your wedding day?" Emma asked. Margaret smiled.

"I know that everyone said I would be…but no, I wasn't. I couldn't wait to make it official. It was mainly for everyone else. David and I already felt married long before we went to the altar," she answered.

"Yeah…you guys are not the typical example," Emma said.

"It doesn't mean that you and Neal don't share an amazing love too," Margaret replied.

"You're right…you and my brother are just weird," the blonde teased.

"Haha…but yeah, probably," Margaret agreed.

"In a good way," Emma assured her.

"Everything is going to be fine," Margaret said.

"What if it's not? What if he dies tomorrow?" Emma asked.

"He's not going to. The Callings have done so much good. We're going to follow them and it's going to save him," Margaret replied. A shudder of fear rippled through Emma. How did she even begin to tell them that she had defied a Calling? And that those very dangerous men that should be dead now, had she done as the Calling asked, might go free at trial. She shook her head and pushed those terrifying thoughts away. If she focused on that, she would lose her mind and Neal needed her. They were getting married and she was going to be happy. Margaret was right. The rest would figure itself out.

~(~

Gold helped his son straighten his tie and looked at him wistfully.

"Nervous?" he asked.

"No…just anxious for the ceremony to start. I can't wait to be married to the woman I love," Neal replied. He didn't add the even though it might be for only one day, but the

possibility of that hung in the air around them.

"I'm very happy for you, my boy," Gold said.

"Thanks Dad…glad we're a family again. Didn't think that could happen," Neal replied.

"Me either…but it means the world to me that you have forgiven me," Gold said, as they shared a hug.

~*~

Olive looked at the house, decorated with all the pomp of the wedding, and smiled.

"It's like a dream…it's amazing," she mentioned, but noticed that TJ seemed to be a million miles away. She sighed.

"Okay TJ…what's going on with you?" she asked. He sighed.

"I'm leaving," he said and she looked shocked.

"A few weeks ago, I applied for a grant to study in Egypt. And it went through," he explained.

"Egypt?" she questioned.

"Look, coming back on 828, not dying in the nightclub fire…I survived twice for a reason," he said.

"Yeah. To live your life," Olive argued.

"But it's more than just that. I think I'm still here to find out what the Alzarus book means. And maybe I'll find a clue about the Death Date," he said. She scoffed.

"I'm sorry, Olive," he said, as tried to comfort her, but she pulled away.

"Please, I don't...I can't do this. Not now," Olive said, as she walked off.

~*~

"Good of you to come, Killian," Ruby said, as she handed him a glass of champagne.

"Anything for Emma," he replied, as he looked around. He couldn't help but think that this should have been for them.

"For what it's worth…I'm sorry. I know you still love her," Ruby said.

"It's fine…it just didn't work out for us," Killian replied.

"Yeah…it's not awkward or anything," Ruby joked. He smiled.

"Yeah…" he agreed.

"I think I may need something stronger than champagne," he said.

"I'll see what I can do," she replied, as she went to find him some hard liquor.

~*~

"Are you ready?" Margaret asked. She nodded.

"As ready as I'll ever be. I just wish I knew I was doing the right thing…that stopping his treatments is okay and that the Callings will save him," Emma replied.

"I can't answer those questions, but I know respecting what he wants is the right thing," Margaret replied.

"What if it was David asking this of you?" Emma asked. Margaret took a breath.

"Then I would be a mess…but being with him every moment would be my priority and I would have hope to the very end," she said.

"All good things, Emma. I spent almost six years without him…but something brought him…all of you back. Whatever it is…it's good," she promised. Emma smiled.

"All good things," she repeated, as they exited the bedroom door where David was waiting for them in his tux.

"Ready?" he asked. She nodded, as they hugged her between them.

"This is a happy beginning…not an end," he promised.

"You have no idea how much I hope you're right," Emma said, as they led her into the living room for the main procession.

~*~

The moment he saw her, he felt like he couldn't breathe. As Ruby returned with some rum, he handed her the glass of champagne.

"I'm sorry…tell Emma I'm sorry. I can't do this," he said, as he fled the scene before she could see him. He got into his car and put it in gear, driving off, unaware of the van

parked outside the Nolan house with the three escaped convicts.

~*~

David and Margaret walked Emma down the aisle and they met Neal there, before the Holy man. They each kissed her cheek and then took their seats in the front row.

Margaret smiled and took the baby from her father-in-law, as the ceremony began.

"We've gathered today to witness and affirm the choice Neal and Emma have made to stand together as partners in life. And they have written their own vows of commitment

to one another," he began, before looking at Neal.

"Emma… we'll never have enough time to do everything that we want, to create all the memories we'd like, but having you believe in me, care for me, love me has been the

greatest gift of my life. And I vow, however long I'm privileged to be your husband, to fill your world with all the love you deserve," he promised. She smiled.

"Neal, I want to be the best wife that I can be, which to me means I will stand beside you, loving you and supporting you in whatever choices you make in your life. I will

never give up on you. And I will fight for your life... our life together for as long as we both shall live," Emma said. The minister smiled.

"By the power vested in me by the state of New York... I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride," he announced. There was applause, as they kissed

and their marriage was official.

~*~

The reception followed and several dances were shared, before Emma found her way to her brother.

"MM says you had cold feet for a minute there," he said.

"Do you ever not tell each other things?" Emma asked. He smirked.

"No…and it makes for a great marriage," he replied.

"Yeah…for a minute there, I wondered if I was doing the right thing, but MM reminded me that following Neal's wishes would always be right. All good things…and hope. That's

the key or at least, I hope it is," she said. He smiled and kissed her hair.

"It is," he promised, as he joined Margaret again on the dance floor, while Ruby sided up to her.

"I thought I saw Killian…where did he go?" Emma asked.

"He left…he said to tell you that he was sorry, but I think it was too hard for him," Ruby confessed. Emma nodded.

"It's okay…I get it and I don't blame him," she replied.

"Just put it out of your mind…and be happy. You deserve it," Ruby said, as Emma smiled.

"Thank you," she replied, as Neal held his hand out and she joined him for a dance.

"You alright?" he asked.

"I'm better than alright. I'm with you. That's all that matters," she replied.

"So you're glad you said "I do"?" he asked. She smiled.

"Yeah. Of course," she answered.

"I know you've had reservations. Didn't know if you still had second thoughts," he mentioned.

"Our situation is anything but normal. But I love you. Don't ever doubt that," she said.

~*~

The crickets chirped, as TJ and Olive walked outside together to talk.

"Why don't you come with me? To Egypt. You're graduating in the spring. You can meet

up with me right after," he suggested.

"TJ, I'm…" Olive trailed off.

"Olive, I love you. And I want to be with you," he added.

"I wish I could. But I...I-I want my baby sister to know me. And I want to be able to spend as much time as I can with my mom and my dad and Cal before…" she said,

trailing off again.

"You're my best friend," she added.

"And us...breaking up, it…" she said, but he cut her off.

"I'm not breaking up with you. I'm going on this trip so that I can try to solve the Death Date so that we can have a future together. Just don't give up on me," he pleaded.

She smiled.

"Never," she promised.

~*~

Emma sighed, as she had a glass of champagne and talked to Regina.

"Congratulations," Regina said. Emma smiled.

"Thanks," she replied.

"You okay?" Emma asked. Regina sighed.

"I just feel like I failed Neal…and you," she said. Emma shook her head.

"No…you did everything you could. Neal has all but given up, but I haven't. David insists that the Callings will still come through and I'm trying to have that same hope that he

and MM do," she replied.

"Hope has never been easy for me either…but in this instance, I hope they are right. I quite like having a brother," Regina said. Emma smiled, as Regina's cell phone chimed

and she saw that it was unknown.

"Call me if you need anything…I need to take this," she said, as she went outside to answer it.

~*~

The reception was winding down at that point and Neal was hugging his father.

"Papa…I know that tomorrow might, well…you know. And if it is…just know that I love you and I've forgiven you, ten fold," Neal promised. Gold had tears in his eyes, as he

hugged him again. Henry hugged him next and he ruffled the boy's hair.

"I don't know how I can ever thank you, Henry. You saved my life, in more ways than one. You introduced me to your Aunt Emma, you know?" he said. Henry sniffed.

"You gave me the best bachelor party I've ever been to," Neal added, as he sniffed.

"You be good, little man and keep working on those chess skills. This guy here is the best there is at it. Maybe you two can play," Neal said, as he motioned to his father.

"I would love that, my boy," Gold said. Henry smiled.

"Me too," he agreed, as Emma was saying her goodbyes to her father and then finally David and MM.

"I promise you that I'm not going to give up. I'll follow the Callings to the end of the Earth if it means saving Neal," Emma said, as David and Margaret hugged her between

them.

"We know…and we'll be there to do whatever you need," he promised, as they saw the couple off to their car so their honeymoon could begin. They got in the car and drove

off.

~*~

Regina waited at the meeting point that had been texted her and looked around nervously. There was a tap on her shoulder and she turned around. When she saw no one,

she turned back the other way, only to practically jump out of her skin when seeing Vance now standing there, like he had come out of nowhere.

"Geez…don't do that!" she hissed.

"David sent the SOS so here I am. It better be good…because this is risky," Vance said.

"What's this about?" he asked.

"The Major…she had me fired and locked out of my lab. She had my license revoked and all my research has been taken," Regina replied. He looked intrigued by that.

"What? What do you know?" she asked.

"A couple days ago, the switchboard at the DOD lit up like a Christmas tree. The Major found a breakthrough with your research. She needs to make sure what she discovered

stays in her hands and her hands only," he revealed. Regina looked stunned.

"She must have cracked it. Gotten rid of the DNA anomaly permanently," she realized.

"I think it's time for me to make you disappear," Vance suggested. Regina looked shocked at that.

"Run away?" she questioned.

"It's for your own safety," Vance answered.

"No, I don't think you understand. I am not hiding from her. I am coming after her," Regina insisted, giving Vance a moment of pause at her determination.

~*~

"All cleaned up. Our house is officially a pumpkin again. Dishwasher's loaded. We're off the clock. You want to watch a movie?" Olive asked her little brother.

"You pick. I'm gonna go fire these babies up," Henry said, referring to the sparklers that he'd been given. She rolled her eyes and went to pick one out, while Henry went outside in the front yard to light up the sparklers.

~*~

The baby cooed, as Margaret sang softly to her in their bedroom. David smiled and then was suddenly seized by a Calling. This one was intense and he saw the plane

exploding in mid air.

"Honey?" Margaret asked, as he breathed heavily.

"Another Calling?" she asked. He nodded.

"But different…I saw the plane exploding in mid air," he said, in confusion.

"But that didn't happen," Margaret replied.

"I know…maybe it's metaphorical for something else. Like something's about to happen," David said. Margaret squeezed his hand. A Calling like that couldn't mean anything

good.

~*~

Henry stood in the front yard and twirled his sparkler, moving it around to use the smoke as air writing. Three shadows approached him in the yard. The sparkler went out, as

the shadows loomed and he turned around, looking up into darkness…

~*~

Neal smiled at her, as she drove them toward their destination when the phone rang.

"Who's calling us on our honeymoon?" she wondered, as she pressed the button on her steering wheel to answer her phone, which was bluetoothed into the car.

"Hopefully someone with good news," Neal replied.

"Hello?" Emma answered.

"Aunt Emma…help!" Henry cried, sending their hearts into their throats.

"Henry…" she uttered.

"Shut that kid up!" a man's voice growled and a cold chill slithered down Emma's spine. It was Jace…she was sure of it.

"Listen, you sick…" Emma hissed.

"No, you listen, bitch!" Jace hissed back.

"You have two choices...you get us back or stash or you bury your nephew!" he warned.

"Don't you dare touch him!" Emma warned.

"Don't tempt me. I warned you. Now you're gonna pay," he said, as the line went dead.

"HENRY!" she cried and the realization came crashing down on her. She was responsible for this. She ignored a Calling and the trio of drug dealers didn't die as they

were supposed to. And now they had Henry. The brakes screeched, as she did a u-turn to head back to her brother's house.

2 notes · View notes

kissofthemuses · 1 year

Text

MORGAN

FULL NAME: Morgan Rowlands SPECIES: witch OCCUPATION: student/healer/holistic healer FANDOM: Sweep

PHYSICAL

FACECLAIM: Troian Bellisario Katharine Mcphee PRONOUNS: she/her AGE: 17/18, 34 BIRTHDATE: November 23 HAIR: brown EYES: brown HEIGHT: 5'7″ ORIENTATION: demisexual, heteromantic

RELATIONSHIPS

MOTHER: Mary Grace Rowlands (Adoptive), Meave Riordan (birth- deceased) FATHER: Sean Rowlands (adoptive), Ciaran Macewan (birth) Siblings: Mary Kathleen Rowlands (adoptive), Killian MacEwan (half-brother), Kyle MacEwan (half-brother), Iona MacEwan (half-sister)

PERSONALITY

MBTI: ENFP-T / “Campaigner” ALIGNMENT: lawful good TEMPERAMENT: sanguine ENNEAGRAM: type 2

Morgan is a kind soul with a desire to heal anyone who is in any kind of pain. But, she's shy and, often, self-depricating; she doesn't have low self esteem but, she doesn't see herself as anything special. Actually, much of her life, she felt like she didn't quite fit in with her family. She's generally a studious person with a thirst for knowledge for those things that interested her.

She's been accused, on many occasions, of not being able to see the 'big picture'. And that's true because she tends to focus on what's affecting her and those around her, in the moment. That's not to say she's selfish, she just doesn't really have the ability to step back and examing the situation as a whole. Especially because she is so emotionally driven. Much of the time, she lets her heart rule her head, and this has gotten her into a lot of trouble. She's also extremely stubborn, and, once she sets her mind to something, she will pursue it until it's very end (unless something drastic happens to change her course).

OTHER

POWERS: Pyrokenisis, shapeshifting (animal forms, mainly a wolf), scrying, spell creation and casting. LIKES: reading, divination, tea-making, karaoke, research, traveling, sharing what she’s learned, dancing by herself, warm cookies DISLIKES: feeling weak, fire, sleep paralysis, injustice, bullying, being alone, her own heart,

TAGS

Threads Headcanons Musings Inspo

BACKSTORY

Morgan Rowlands was born on November 23rd, to Maeve Riordan and Ciaran MacEwan. Though her mother's partner Angus Bramson believed he was her father, a belief Maeve did not correct. Fearing attack by Ciaran, Maeve and Angus gave her up for adoption when she was around 8 months old. Soon after, Ciaran killed them by locking them up in a building and setting it on fire.

She then was adopted by Mary Grace and Sean Rowlands. two years later, her parents had a biological daughter named Mary Kathleen Rowlands. When Morgan was 8, her parents nicknamed her Molly, after they learned of the death of her biological mother and presumed father. Though the Rowlands did not fully understand the exact circumstances of Maeve and Angus's death, they were aware that real magick was somehow involved, and they hoped the nickname would deflect anyone who wished her harm

Morgan lived in Widow's Vale, New York and was a high-school junior when she was introduced to Wicca by Cal Blaire (the new boy in town). The two developed an emotional relationship which only grew stronger when Morgan discovered her heritage, powers, and family origins.

It wasn't long until a Seeker from the International Council of Witches showed up in Widow's Vale to stop Cal and his mother, Selene Belltower, from performing dark magick. Not fully understanding the situation, and completely taken by Cal, Morgan almost killed Hunter while trying to protect Cal. However, Cal's intentions to get Morgan to join the dark side soon became apparent, and Morgan refused him. Cal, apparently, fully realized his feelings for her and tried to "save her" by killing her. He locked her in a hidden, magic room behind his poolhouse and set it on fire. Morgan escaped death thanks to Hunter, and her best friends Bree and Robbie.

This was the start of Morgan's trust in Hunter and, slowly, she found herself falling for him. With his help, Morgan learned more of her heritage and powers. It is with him that she found her birth father, Ciaran MacEwan, a powerful black witch. At Hunter's behest, Morgan got close to her father so that Hunter can bind Ciaran's magic and render him unable to harm anyone else ever again. Part of her hated to do it, but, she knew it was the right thing to do.

VERSES

SPELLBOUND (MAIN)

Morgan has graduated high school and is now starting college. She continues to study and practice magic, growing ever stronger in her powers.Pre-witched | Tag Morgan is your typical high school junior, trying to navigate school, friends, family, and life.

IT'S ALL GREEK TO ME (PJO AU)

Morgan is a daughter of Hecate, residing at Camp Half Blood during the summer and with her adopted parents the rest of the year.

TEEN WITCH (TEEN WOLF AU)

After Cal tried to burn her alive, Morgan's family decide that moving would keep her safe. Unbeknown to them, they're drawn to Beacon Hills, where even greater powers await. Morgan is a high school senior, still dealing with the emotional trauma while adjusting to a new town and school.

SOMETHING WITCHY THIS WAY COMES (HARRY POTTER AU)

INFO POST

Morgan is a supposed Muggle-born Gryffindor. Unknown to her still is that she was adopted by muggles, but her birth parents were pure-bloods. Her mother was a gifted healer and her father is an infamous Dark Wizard who murdered her birth mother and step-father. After leaving Hogwarts, Morgan become a rather noted healer, who had a reputation for being especially kind to those on the fringes of wizarding society. (Single ship with newromanticmuses's Remus)

DARK MAGICK (EVIL AU)

FULL CIRCLE (OLDER AU)

After find out about her family's dark legacy and meeting her father, one of the darkest of them all, Morgan gave into that side of her. A black witch now, Morgan is out only for herself. After the death of her beloved Hunter, Morgan can't seem to settle down. In her thirties, she moves about, continually searching for something can't quite name or find- peace.

#{ muses }

2 notes · View notes

casspurrjoybell-24 · 14 days

Text

My Unwanted Mate - Chapter 12 - Part 3

*Warning Adult Content*

Tatum Briar

It was later in the day when Nathan appeared as if he had never been missing.

He found me where I stood against the wall, hidden mostly in the shadows of the low lighting.

He stood beside me smelling of soap and dressed in a fresh outfit but his eyes were still puffy from tears.

I didn't question him, I couldn't here.

There were only a select few Alphas in the room, their Omegas were either perched on their laps or standing around waiting for an order.

It was meant to be an exclusive gathering for the swaggering Alphas to feel more important than the others.

Only one Alpha stood out.

His destressed jeans and plain black t-shirt clashed against the other males tailored slacks and button up shirts.

His dirty black boots were an eyesore and I had noticed many of the Alphas glancing at them with disgust.

"He looks the same."

Nathan attempted a laugh, it sounded like a scoff.

His eyes were on the male too and he was right, Alpha Robert Killian did still look the same.

He quite literally was born to be an Alpha.

The male exuded dominance even amongst some of the most powerful, even dressed like he was.

As if he knew he was being talked about, his eyes turned on us.

I swallowed and looked away immediately.

Our Alpha's command heavy on my mind but thankfully, the male's Omega was not here and I still had time to prepare myself for what I had to do.

"Shit," Nathan hissed, turning his body more towards me.

"Hey."

Shit, indeed.

Not good, not good at all.

I kept my head down, eyes stuck on the black boots in front of us.

"Alpha Robert," I greeted, not wanting to be disrespectful but also not wanting to speak to him at all.

The male chuckled, his hand hitting my arm in good nature as if he was joking with an old friend.

"No need for the formalities and shit."

My head raised and I looked at the male's face.

The last I had seen his face the male had been partly shifted with his canines bared at our daddy.

Nathan had been on the floor behind him, where Robby had stepped over him to stop our father from getting any closer.

My twins healing jaw swelling once more from the slap he had received.

Discipline our father had argued.

Embarrassments, he called the both of us.

"Hello, Robby," Nathan was peeking up at him, his face pink with a blush.

Alpha Robert tried for a smile but it did not reach his eyes.

His lips fell into a hard line as he took us in, saw the scars on our necks and the swell of Nathan's belly.

The Moon Goddess was cruel.

I had learned that a long time ago.

She had dangled this male's pack in front of us, had dangled a mate in front of us and then had taken it all away.

"Alpha Killian."

My eyes dropped back down to the floor immediately at the sound of our Alpha's voice.

The male put himself in front of Nathan and I, his hand reaching out to shake Alpha Robert's.

"Malore Surez," the Alpha said, introducing himself.

"Ah, the brother," Alpha Robert said shortly, the easygoing cadence in his voice had disappeared and he was like all other Alphas.

"Yes. The brother."

I knew our Alpha wore a smirk that was not friendly.

"I see you have met my Omegas. Pretty, aren't they?"

Robby chuckled dryly.

"Not as pretty as mine."

I would have been offended if I did not know the male personally.

He was obsessed with his Luna.

"I'll see you around."

It sounded like a threat and our Alpha took it as one, his form becoming rigid but he remained silent, watching the male walk away.

Nathan watched the male go, his eyes squinted and his lips pursed.

I decided then to keep a better eye on my twin, we could not afford for him to get us into any trouble.

1 note · View note

percontaion-points · 9 months

Text

Firstlife chapter 20

today’s review might be difficult for some; reader discretion is advised

Click to see the rest of the snark & image descriptions

Chapter 20

“I’m your mother.”

“My mother is dead.” The words leave me, and I go still. A terrible thought hits me, and I can’t escape it. “Did you kill her? Did you kill my brother?”

Her gaze implores me to listen, to understand. “I am your mother. You’re Fused with my Ashley. I know it. The timing was perfect—a sign. And you glowed so brightly, as only Generals do.”

Every single goddamned person in this hellish world is mentally ill. To make the situation worse, society is not only not treating any of it, but they are actively feeding into these delusions.

“Yes, you were an assignment. At first. But I fell in love with you and—”

“You never loved me. If you had, you would have told me the truth.”

Irritation flares in his eyes. Irritation he quickly masks with faux hurt. “If I told you the truth, I would have lost you.”

“You lost me anyway.” I did love this boy, but only a mirage of him.

Feminine twitters draw my attention to the stairs. Killian stands at the top. He—is—gorgeous. Our gaze meet, and oh, the blood in my veins heats, sizzles and melts me. He’s here. He’s unharmed.

Slowly he descends the staircase, every female he passes stopping whatever she’s doing to watch him. Some even try to gain his attention. A few reach out to touch him, but he’s focused only on me.

“Him?” James snarls at me. “You want him?”

At this point, I’d say that I’d want Richard M Nixon simply to spite that asshole.

A girl I’ve never met sidles up and wraps an arm around Killian’s waist. He stiffens and flicks her off, but she doesn’t seem to mind the negative reaction, returning to rest her head on the crook of his shoulder.

She looks me over. “Is she your flavor of the week? Well, I approve. Those mismatched eyes are striking, aren’t they?”

He wraps an arm around my waist. “Excuse us.” As she stares in astonishment, he leads me away.

“Another conquest of yours?” I ask.

“There’s nowhere in the world you can go and not find one. I told you I was very good at my job, and I meant it. But...”

I’m teetering on the edge of anticipation as I await his words. “But?”

“You aren’t just a job.” He stops to cup my jaw, peer deep, deep into my eyes. “I didn’t like being parted from you today.”

Right. And how many other women has he said “You aren’t just a job” to?

A smiling Sloan peeks over his shoulder. “Actually, I think you’ll want to keep this one.”

Chapter 20 summary: So Pearl has shown up. The mentally ill Mryadian woman who thinks that Ten is the reincarnation of her twice-dead daughter, Ashley. She has her goons put a nasty-looking collar on Killian, and a group of them disappear to take him to the “kennel”. Then she shoots Archer’s shell, but Pearl is certain that Archer left before the shot.

She then drags Ten outside, and forces her into a car. As they drive, she will not shut up about how Ten must accept her fate, that the two of them will be able to be together again, blah-blah-blah. Ten foolishly tries to kill her, but apparently forgot that it was nothing but a shell. Pearl leaves and comes back super quickly, so the entire thing was beyond pointless.

She then forces Ten to do a spa day. Which I know that it sounds like such horrible torture to have a full body massage and her nails painted, but Ten is also there against her will. She knows that Pearl is hoping that Ten will be like “Mommy?!” and that the two of them will have a heartwarming reunion. But that also isn’t how reincarnation works. So even if Ten is Ashley, she wouldn’t remember anyway. She tells Pearl that if Killian is harmed in any way, she’ll sign with Troika.

Once Ten is all pretty and in a pretty dress, Pearl drags her back to her childhood home, where there’s a bunch of people she doesn’t know for a party. James, her ex-boyfriend, is there, but he’s the last person she wants to see right now. Especially since he lied to her, and literally nothing about their relationship was remotely real in the slightest.

But Killian shows up, tells James to fuck off, and starts leading Ten away. James goes, but comes back with Sloan.

#Firstlife #Everlife series #chapter 20 #Madame Pearl #shitty leaders doing shitty things #Tenley 'Ten' Lockwood #what the fuck #James (Everlife)#Killian Flynn #shitty men are shitty #Sloan (Everlife)

0 notes

evansencezz · 2 years

Text

◎ ꪻꫝꫀ ꫀꪀᦔꪶꫀᦓᦓ ᭙ꪮ᥅ꪻꫝꪶꫀᦓᦓꪀꫀᦓᦓ ꪮᠻ ꪖ ꫀꪜꫀ᥅ ᭙ꪖꪀꪻﺃꪀᧁ ᧁﺃ᥅ꪶ ◎

༒༒༒

⌗ Notes: Suimuki content, she’s mentally ill, follows normal timeline or og AU, refrences to SH but very mild, she’s the Vice president, music, slight hints to a delusional mother figure, death, trauma, takes place in the fall, suimuki is insominia, depression, and represses emotions, she’s in love with Killian, mild angst?? will make you cry 1/10 do not recommend, BAD ENDING ⌗

“Good morning Suimuki ♡︎!~” Killian greeted the black-nette who was walking to school.

“Ah, good morning..” Her mood immeditly brightened when she saw the dark haired male walk up to her and smile.

“You look tired, how much sleep did you get last night?” The male asked.

She grimnaced and bit the inside of her cheek. She only got three hours, and she knew Killian would start complaning and fussing over her.

“You know, I can’t have you be tired for our piano lessons!” He reminded her with a slight sigh.

The golden eyed girl scowled slightly and sighed like he did.

“Fine, three hours. You happy now??” She sarcastically said, shooting the heterocromidia boy a look.

“Very. I’ll drop by one of your classes later and drop you off a coffee, y’know because your my favorite.” He teasingly said the last part, slightly slowing down as they got on the school campus.

The shorter rolled her golden eyes, turning red slighlty before shaking her head.

“Whatever, romeo, see you later..” She spared the male one last look before leaving.

Suimuki sighed when her math teacher gave the students extra time to work on the assingment. She couldn’t really work on hers though, given her current situation.

“Wow, your so good Lumine, how do you do it?” A girl student that the said Lumine was helping marvelled.

Suimuki laughed and pushed a piece of black hair behind ear before smiing and laughing slightly.

“I’m not as good as you think I am, really..” She said, looking away slightly.

“Oh please! Your already in advanced english, and history! I didn’t even KNOW there was an ADVANCED history class until now!” The confused other grumbled.

The helping girl blinked a few times, taken back but quickly covered it up with another smile.

“All of that is just studying and hard work, I promise.”

“Whatever you say, prostar student.” The brunette girl smiled at Suimuki.

“Hey, Lumine, can you help me with this problem?” A girl with light blue hair with a few white stripes through out asked.

“Oh, yes! I’ll be back, Iliana.” The said Lumine family member moved away from Lliana and went over to Coraline.

“Sooooo, what is it??” Suimuki asked while scooting a little closer to the other girl.

“I’m having trouble with this one righttt..ah, here..” The extremely dark blue eyed one drawled out before pointing to a problem.

The golden eyed girl looked at the problem and smiled.

“Ah, well..here’s how you do it..” Her voice faded and blurred more when she started explaining it.

“She’s so pretty, don’t you think?” A red haired male side glanced his ‘brother’.

“Also, top student.” Killian notfied the two inched shorter male.

A male with sliver hair but with a cold blue tint to it looked at Suimuki. She wasn’t aware she was being stared at, either that or she was good at pretending she didn’t notice. Her short black hair was slightly curled at the ends and it looked soft.

“Yes..she’s very pretty.” Ren’s brother replied, still side glancing at the girl.

He flinched though, when the student council vice president stopped helping the person she was with and looked up, making eye contact with him. His mouth opened when her yellow eyes moved away from his and brightened and Killian.

Suimuki quickly excused herself and went over to the taller heterocromidia boy.

“Hey, Kill!’ I thought you dropping by later ment LATER? It’s only first period.” She asked before pointing out the obvious.

“I felt nice.” He winked at her before handing her the cup of coffee he bought for her.

The short haired black-nette rolled her eyes before taking a sip of the coffee and replying:

“Either that or your obessed with me..” She scoffed.

Killian laughed slightly before closing his eyes.

“Yeah, or that’s it.” He snickered when the sleep deprived other huffed, turning red slightly.

Then and only then, she noticed the two other males. She flinched, paling before smiling rushily.

“O..oh! I’m sorry for not noticing you guys! My name is Suimuki Lumine, Vice student council president.” She nervously introduced herself.

Ren was the first to respond as he smiled slightly before introducing himself as well.

“Ren, just Ren.” He shook the pale girls hand.

The said male let go of her hand before quickly shooting a look towards his brother.

“Ah!- Um my name is Markes..” The sliver haired boy introduced himself.

Suimuki gave him a quick once over before smiling again.

“You already know my name, nice to meet you.” She responded before messing with the cup of coffee.

“Well, it was..quaint..meeting you all but some of my friends..need help! Bye!” She said again while glancing behind her and towards some of her working class men.

And with that, she shuffled away before turning her back and walking towards a brown haired girl.

“Your completly sure that’s the ONE you want?” Ren shoot his dark haired older a look again.

“Of course, I have eyes for no one else, Ren.”

The second oldest Lumine sighed deeply once her history class was over and everyone was rushing to lunch. A figure with purple hair and indigo eyes looked at the girl.

“Hey! How’s school??” The girl smiled at the now slightly annoyed other.

“It’s alright, Venus. Now go haunt someone else.” Suimuki said while walking down a couple halls, heading to the libary.

Venus scoffed and pulled one of their blue eyes down before looking away. Alothough, the ghost still hovered above- or more like beside her.

“I’m serious! Don’t you have anyone better to haunt?! I mean, am I even suposed to be able to see you in the first place!?” The human girl replied with even more annoyance as they entered the libary.

Venus hummed before whisking around bookshelves and basically making books hover, luckily the school was old so no camera’s were installed.

“To answer both of your..argueablly..human questionsss..no I don’t have any one to haunt. I’m luckily to even have you. And for you being able to see me, remeber that old old OLD piano in the music room that barely nobody fucking touches?? Yeah, that was the piano I played when I used to go to this school so I decided to haunt it. Buttt you justtt had to feel complied to touch it and then ‘BOOM. ’ I was basically pulled out of it and now anyone with somewhat magically powers can see me, and at the very least medium’s or..mortal’s who touch the damn thing.” The spector explained, reading the back of a romance book before grimnacing.

“Y’know I miss the times where Romeo and Juliet was all the rage and not this..young adult stuff..” She said.

Suimuki was actually listening, well, atleast the part’s were Venus explained her questions. To be honest, Suimuki was never really a skeptic about ghosts and stuff like that. So she was surprised when the next day after she touched the piano, she saw a damn ghost staring at her. But she wasn’t scared.

“When did you die again?” The now sitting down human asked.

Casper the wannabe ghost over here sighed and raked their thought’s.

“Mmm..it’s blurry but somewhere defentily in the ninth century, why?”

The violinist brushed her off, getting up and leaving the libary.

“Nothing..just simple curiousty..is all.” She tiredly said, rubbing one of her eyes.

The violet haired girl scowled and tugged on one of the black-nette’s hairs, making her wince.

“For being the school’s top student and one of the most popular, your pretty fuckin’ bland, huh?” The ghost hissed, sarcastic smile painted in all it’s glory on her face.

“Oh, you think so?” Suimuki slowly blinked and the dtill following ghost as she entered her next class.

Venus didn’t respond, the human girl knew they wouldn’t. They hated being in Suimuki’s classroom’s for the whole class because several reasons. One: it was fucking boring and if the dead girl tried to pull anything a exorcist would show up in two seconds. And second: Even though regular human’s couldn’t see them, they still felt like people were staring at them.

Unthless, The indigo eyed one spared one last glance at the golden eyed one before dissapearing into thin air.

Suimuki sighed and cracked her knuckels while throwing her back over her shoulder. Her eyes glanced outside where the sky was a darker blue shade and the autum leaves flew around in the sky. Pairs or groups of friends laughed and playfully nudged each other back and forth before giggling again.

“Suimuki?” The black haired girl heard someone’s voice snap her out of it.

It was Killian. The vice president of the student council noted his messy apperance. His dark hair was slightly toussled and his tie to his uniform was undone and loose. Finally, Suimuki pretended not to notice the red mark on his neck.

“Jeez, am I glad to see you? I thought you up and left without me!” The male laughed before blinking at the shorter.

“Do you really think I would do that?” She asked, almost offened.

Her eyes narrowed and her lips tucked into a straight thin line. Also, her black eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

Killian looked even more taken aback as he quickly shot the idea down.

“What?! Wh-No! I was just joking!! Sorry..” He sweat-dropped slightly.

The now slightly giddy man watched as Suimuki sighed and rubbed her eyes. Then, she brushed past him and made a movement for him to follow.

“Soo…errr..” Killian paled while trying to find some ground to make small talk.

Meanwhile the other who was currently biting and picking and her lips watched the leaves fly around in boredom. But flinched when the said guy next to her made a noise like he remebered something.

“Ah, right! I forgot to tell you! I, your handsome friend and probably crush aswell, made a new friend!~” The heterocromidaic eyed casonova winked at her before smiling.

He moved in front of the sidewalk the two were currently walking on, off of the school campus and started walking backwards.

“Her name is Nari Jeong. Pretty, right? Anyywaysss, she has blonde hair and ugh!- just the prettiest golden eyes! Like- seriously! I could get lost in them forever!” He whined and pouted while freaking out over this girl.

Suimuki’s heart stopped. But..she had golden eyes too, right? Didn’t he say her eyes were the prettiest he had ever seen?? Now this Nari girl was making him like this?..Needless to say, Suimuki was upset.

“But..didn’t you say..ugh, nevermind.” Suimuki was about to ask but scowled and looked away annoyed anyways.

“Hm? Oh c’mon now, don’t tell me your jealous now, Suimuki?” Killian teased the black-nette.

The said girl swore she could felt irk marks popping above her head. But instead, she deeply sighed and ran and hand through her hair.

“No, I’m not jealous. Anyways, this is my house. Thank’s for walking with me, Killian.” She was about to leave before Killian grabbed her wrist and stopped her.

“Wait a minute. What about our tutoring lessons? Aren’t you gonna teach me, teacherr?~” He snickered when her face turned a little red and she moved out of his hold.

“Ugh! I’ll teach you tommorow, alright? Meet me at the libary after school, okay?” The tired girl said before walking away and not hearing the male reply.

“Suimuki! Where were you?! You were suposed to be home five minutes ago!” A figure with brown hair and blue eyes glared down at her.

“Ah! Uh-Um..Mother I was finishing up student council work..sorry..” The teenager responded, paling slightly.

Her mother didn’t look impressed as she still coldly looked at the girl. Suimuki’s mother and her barely looked alike. I mean, she did get all her looks from her father. She was practically the female version of him..

“Oh really? Then why was there a boy talking to you out there? He seemed quite, enamored with you.” She questioned again.

The moonlit girl tried to hide the blush that had risen to her face. Her mom seemed to notice as her expression only bitter.

“Oh please don’t tell me your in love with him Suimuki.” Her mother said but it was more of a plead.

The second eldest child’s blush didn’t ease down at that as she fought back the urge to groan.

“What?! No! I don’t have romantic feelings for him mom!” She said, embrassed.

Her mother seemed pleased at that as she only stepped forward to play with a bit of Suimuki’s hair. The girl tensed and held her breath and kept holding it until her mother sighed and moved away.

“Your hair looks so much like your father’s..too bad it’s growing out now.” The brunette said, dissapointed before shifting back into her stoic form.

“Well, no matter. After your finished with all of your studies and school work, then you may eat.” She said before silently walking away, leaving the younger in silence.

“Suimukiiiiiiii♡︎♡︎!!~” Another short haired girl went up and practically engulfed the other in a hug.

“Ack-Jin!” The golden eyed girl winced when she almost broke a rib from the hug.

“Okay anyways! Did you confess to your little boy crush yet?~” The white-nette person asked, a shit-eating grin on her face.

The younger girl groaned and started walking up the stairs with her sibling following her.

“No. I didn’t. He made a new friend with a girl.” She said, looking at the ground slightly before trailing up to her room.

Her older sister dramactically gasped before shifting to Suimuki’s left side. Give or take, the hallway to Suimuki’s room was pretty narrow so they were crammed basically side by side.

“Wait, really?! Mmf, that sucks. But he only met her today?” They asked, looking at the other.

“Yep and he already freaks out about her. Honestly, he should just stop flirting with me already and go get HER.” Suimuki said frustaded.

Her older sister frowned before smiling slightly.

“Well-Uh..if he’s still hitting on you it must mean he has some intrest in you..” She said, sweat-dropping slightly.

By now, they had showed up at Suimuki’s room door. She entered the room and shot Jin a look before basically slamming it in her face.

“Wow..rude.” The white-nette said, face sideways.

The black haired girl sighed before looking around her familar surroundings. A poster of her favorite band was on her door that she shut, and her room was lit up by a yellow ball that had blue glowly star desgins on it. There were pictures that she took of flowers and plants, also a few of the stars strewen up on her walls. And there were a couple more posters of bands she liked hanged up near her bed.

“Haaa..Well, better get to work if you want to eat today Suimuki..” She told herself before walking over to her small desk that had a few papers strewen about.

She looked at the notebooks that she also had little doodles in but shook her head. She set down her bag from school and pulled out a notebook, pencils and a few folders that stored her homework. Suimuki then loosen her school tie and undid a few buttons to her shirt before scooting up her chair and focusing on her work.

The student council member groaned and rubbed her temple, it was currently two in the morning.

“Finally! But I supose I can’t eat now. I don’t want to wake mother up..” She said, feeling light headed.

“When even was the last time I ate food? Like, a decent meal? A couple days ago?” Suimuki questioned herself, but eventually sighed and frowned deeply.

A suddent wave of pity and sadness washed over the girl. She didn’t have time to wallow in her depression this situation gave her. It would be stupid too. Yet, her throat clogged and invietablity she could feel the feeling of tears coming,

“No..no no no.. stop it..stop feeling sad..your alright.” The tired girl said, trying to hold in the tears.

She suddenly stood up from her desk and practically curled up on the bed. She grabbed a stuffed bear that her father had gotten her and started crying.

Give or take, it was muffled. But she was still so sad, why? She didn’t know. Maybe it was out of the jealousy she felt from the girl Killian met. The way he talked about her, they were destined to be together.

There’s no way he would like someone like Suimuki, right? There’s no way. He liked optomistic people, Suimuki was a realist. He liked going out on the town, Suimuki didn’t really like most people. Killian also liked bitter things, Suimuki adored sweet things.

“So there’s no way…there’s no way he would like someone like me..” She mummbled through her realist thought’s.

The short haired girl wonderded what his type was? Did he like girl’s with short hair? Did he like girl’s who dressed a certian way? Did he like blonde’s? Yeah, that was probably it. Probably everything she wasn’t.

“…I hate this..I hate him…why did it have to be him?” She lamented, staring up at her dark ceiling now.

The second eldest daughter blinked up at nothing and closed her eyes. She wasn’t crying anymore, in fact, she couldn’t feel anything anymore. So she fell asleep.

Suimuki walked to school alone the next morning. The birds watching her as her blank expression didn’t budge an inch. It only budged when her classmates greeted her. Some asked were Killian was and she explained that he didn’t walk with her this morning.

In fact, Suimuki only saw him once. He was already on the school campus and…he was talking with someone. A girl. She had long blonde soft hair that looked really pretty. And almost identical golden eyes to Suimuki, without the black rings of course. She laughed apprently at something Killian had said and he laughed aswell.

Suimuki’s heart twinged almost painfully. She grimnaced but it quickly changed when Killian open his eyes and looked at her. He smiled and motioned Suimuki to come over.

“Hey Suimuki, this is Nari! You know, the girl I was talking to you about?” The dark haired male introduced the blonde haired girl.

Nari smiled and the black haired girl paled at how pretty it was. It seemed like she was a god while Suimuki and Killian were mere humans.

“Hello, Lumine. It’s nice to finally meet you. He talked about you quiet alot.” Nari seemed almost jealous at that last sentence.

She shouldn’t be jealous. No, she shouldn’t be. Killian didn’t even like her. Right? She just convinced herself that last night.

“Oh? Did he now?” The shorter girl asked, eyeing the heterocromidia eyed boy.

“Oh you should know that I would talk about you! Your still my favorite, you know.” He laughed and slightly winked at Suimuki.

Stop it. Stop saying that. You didn’t act like I was your favorite while talking about Nari so shut up. Why don’t the two of you just go kiss already?

“Uhm, Lumine? Why don’t the three of us walk to class together? Your class is the closetest so Killian and me can walk you there.” The other golden eyed girl offered, sharing a look towards the male.

The student council vice presdient’s expression must have slipped for a mere second because she could feel herself scowl. But it didn’t seem like the pair before her noticed as they merly blinked at her.

“Okay. Let’s go then.” She boredly said.

Again, the pair before her shared a look before Killian moved to Suimuki’s left side and Nari akwardly tried to also fit beside him.

“Soooo, about piano lessons..how about tommorrow? And of course, the tutoring today.” The tall male said as the trio entered the actual school building.

The girl he was talking to was about to speak before being cut off by the other girl beside him.

“Oh? You teach piano? How amazing! I’ve always wanted to learn. Do you think you can teach me, Kil’?” The long haired girl said in awe before innocently blinking at him.

Don’t say yes don’t say yes don’t say yes don’t say yes don’t say yes don’t say yes don’t say yes don’t say yes don’t say yes.

Suimuki repeated in her head but wanted to throw up surely after what he replied with.

“Sure. Why not? I’m sure Suimuki could also help, she’s naturally talented.” He grinned slightly.

The black ringed eyed girl could of swore she popped a blood vessel. Or at the very least, her eye kept twitching.

“Oh, great! This can also make all of us know each other better, espsically you and me Killi-!”

“𝗡𝗢.”

“!!” Both Nira and Killian jolted at Suimuki’s shut down of the flirting attempt.

“If you two are going to keep flirting, go right fucking at it and forget I’m here. Are you serious? Killian, I don’t know why you invited me to come with you two but if it’s some sort of sick joke consider me sick. Why don’t you two just go 𝗙𝗨𝗖𝗞 already? Honestly, fuck you two.” Suimuki snapped, glaring at the two and scowling.

A couple people stopped and one person recorded the whole thing. Suimuki was brought out of her hatered when Killian tried to explain.

“No- Suimuki I just-..” He fumbled over his words.

The short haired girl shook her head and basically ran down the hall, ignoring Killian’s shouting and Nira’s look.

“Dude, did you hear? Suimuki Lumine, you know, the student council VP? Yeah, word is she snapped at a compelte stranger and a friend.”

“Woah, really? Usually she’s so nice!”

“Maybe she’s showing her true colors or something. Never really liked her anyways.”

“I mean, Lumine was always sort of odd. She’s always had times were she almost slips off her perfect image, I guess that’s the final straw.”

“Anyways, it’s going viral! Apparently, someone airdropped it to EVERYONE in the school!! Yeah! Crazy right???”

“Dude, shut up! She’s right there!” The voices stopped gosping and turned to stare at the dishelved looking Suimuki.

“What’s up with her arms? I mean, bandages? Really? Did she get hurt or something?”

“I think there’s blood bleeding through them too bro. How gross..” More people stared and goisped.

“Lumine, your late.” A teacher broke up the commotion, trying also not to notice the bandages.

Suimuki’s facial expression was blank and she slowly blinked before tilting her head.

“Oh, am I? Sorry teacher, I was at the infrimary.” She spoke, picking at her lip slightly.

“..Well then, It’s alright I supose.” The teacher dissmissed the ghostly looking girl to her seat.

“Jeezzzz, what’s the deal with you?? You look like you’ve become one of the undead or seen a ghost!” Venus popped up out of no where.

The golden eyed girl didn’t respond as she merly took her seat and pulled a notebook out of her bag and started taking notes.

“Meeehhh, please respond. I don’t think it would really surprise anyone if you suddenly started talking to nothing.” The violet haired ghost whined.

Suimuki ignored her and still boredly watched the scince teacher. She could still feel some eyes on her, watching her as she ignored them.

“Yikes..looks like you got even more famous.” They floated right above the ceiling.

The other still continued to ignore her on silence as three more classes passed by.

It was now right before lunch and Suimuki slung her bag over her shoulder and walked to the libary. As soon as she entered she was about to respond to Venus but was stopped when she heard two familar voices.

“Ugh, Killian! This Romance story is so boring! Did you really have to make me pick it up from the libary for you?” She heard a girl’s voice complain.

“Oh c’mon sweetie! It’s just a book! I appreciate it, really though. Ahaha, I didn’t actually think you would do it.” Killian laughed while teasing the shorter blonde.

“Wait a damn second. Isn’t that the guy you like, majorly love??” Venus peered towards the pair before side glancing the black-nette.

Suimuki’s expression twisted into one of pure pain as she tried not to cry. They were flirting, both of them. Oh. My. God.

She accidentally whinced before gasping when the pair whipped around towards the noise. Thankfully, she was able to hide behind a bookcase before they could spot her. Why was she hiding?

“Wait what the fuck, why are we hiding?” The dark skinned spirt asked, raising a eyebrow while hovering beside Suimuki.

“I don’t know! Now shut u-!!” The now annoyed girl hissed before almost having a heart attack when Killian apeared infront of her.

“Suimuki??” He confusingly asked, blinking a few times.

“Wait- You were the one who was here?” Nira showed up aswell and raised another eyebrow towards the paling girl.

“Ack-Um-Errrrrr..Hello??” She greeted before almost face plamming right after.

“Heyyyyy..??” The pair infront of her said at the same time before trying not to laugh.

“I—Errmmm..sorry..sorry for uh snapping at you two..I was just annoyed…and ermm..” The nervous girl tried to apologize before Killian cut her off.

“And jealous?? It’s okay to be jealous y’know.” He said, almost unimpressed.

“What?! I mean- No! Defentily not that! I was just annoyed because I barely slept last night!” She denied his accusation.

“First stage: Denial.” Nira calmly said while boredly looking at the other girl.

Suimuki blushed and erked at the other girl before sighing and looking away from both of them.

“Okay, so what if I was jealous?? I’ve known Killian longer and to just see you two getting along so well I-..” She tried to finish but couldn’t.

“It’s alright. I understand where your coming from.” Nira smiled and comforted the black-nette.

The dark haired male who didn’t say anything was silent for a few more seconds before turning away and mufling his laughter in his hand.

“W-ASSHOLE!! DON’T JUST LAUGH!! CONSOLE HER!!” The long haired blonde-nette snapped at the laughing man.

He snickered a little more before smiling with his eyes closed and speaking.

“You know, to think I got Suimuki Lumine to snap just because I was with another girl is something else. But if you wanna’ spend more time with me, you can just say that.” He teased but tried to stay serious.

Both of the girl’s slightly glared at him, annoyed but both in there own right.

“Well, now this is all done and over, do you guys wanna head to our next class together?” The black ringed eyed girl asked, huffing at the male slightly.

Nira and Killian both nodded and smiled. Venus who was watching the whole thing smiled aswell.

“Well isn’t that just so cute.” She sarcastically said to herself.

᪥᪥᪥

By the time the last class of the day ended, Suimuki and Killian studied in the Libary. It wasn’t really anything too eventfull, just helping him with pretty basic stuff. Well, at least to her it was basic.

Anyways, both of them finished and stood up to back their things. But Killian had to explain something to Suimuki.

“Ah-Um..sorry for this but uh Nira and me planned to walk home together, you can join us! If you’d like..” He apologized, sweat-dropping slightly.

“Ah..uh..no, it’s okay..you two can walk home together. I’ll just walk by myself.” She said, smiling.

Both of them parted ways and Suimuki frowned. She couldn’t be too upset though, she didn’t want to snap again. Untheless, she walked home that evening.

᪥᪥᪥

A few month’s passed by and Killian, Nira, and Suimuki all grew pretty close for a friend group. They always walked everywhere with each other now, unless Nira was absent.

But now Suimuki was nervous, it was Valentine’s day. That means a meriadt of things could happen. Killian could confess to Nira or Suimuki. Nira could confess to Killian, No! Shut up, don’t think about those things.

Anyways, most of the day was actually spent apart from the trio. Killian and Suimuki had people giving them gifts and confessing to them left and right. While Nira had to study and finish some late work she had.

Suimuki sighed as she rubbed her eyes as she just got done turning down another person. It might have been the end of the day but people were rounded up in groups talking about something.

She was about to ask someone what they were talking about but she glanced towards Jin who was in one of the groups who was paling. They looked up and brefily made eye contact with the golden eyed girl before darting their eyes back down.

The student council memeber decided she didn’t have time for this and exited the building throughout the school doors. She heard someone breifly call out.

“She shouldn’t have done thattt..”

What in the hell were they talking about?? Suimuki adjusted to the cold weather, closing her eyes before opening them.

…

She wished she hadn’t.

She wished she had kept her eyes closed forever.

She wished that this wasn’t one of the possbilties she thought of.

But it was right in front of her.

Killian leaning down infront of a tree and Nira slightly strectching up.

Their lips connecting.

Both of them had their eyes closed and it seemed like sparks flew between them.

Suimuki gasped and slammed a hand over her mouth, thusly alerting the pair who had just kissed.

“W-SUIMUKI!!” Killian glanced towards her with half-lidded eyes before they flew open.

Nira also was alerted at that and whipped towards the heartbroken black-nette.

“Suimuki..” She frowned, clearly upset.

But it was too late for explations.

She had already seen everything.

And nothing would ever be the same.

𖧷𖧷𖧷

END

(ps. i ran out of images to be able to use bc theres a ten image word limit so yeah the little flowers r a replacement for that.)

0 notes

spartanguard · 3 years

Text

It's Getting Hard to Be Someone

Summary: Killian Jones lost a lot in Viet Nam—his brother, his hand, his sobriety, and his sanity. He has little hope of reclaiming the last two, until a chance encounter with a little boy—and, more specifically, his fierce mother—at a war protest sets him on a new path.

A/N: It's finally here—my contribution to CS Historical Fics 2021 ( @cshistfic )! I'm definitely a history nerd, and I've always had the idea for a story involving jaded Vietnam vet Killian meets single mom Emma at a protest, and this event was the perfect opportunity to bring that to life. Thank you to the organizers of the event for putting this on! (And be sure to check out the other stories in it!) Warning: this story involves PTSD and alcoholism. But it does have a happy ending. (Title comes from "Strawberry Fields Forever" by The Beatles)

rated T | 11.1k words | AO3

It wasn’t the largest protest by any means—no march on Washington, no sit-in, nothing particularly uproarious—but it still wasn’t small; this was New York, after all. The dozens or so of dedicated young adults did take up a decent amount of their patch of grass in Central Park, holding signs and chanting slogans that all supported the statement carefully, though clearly hand-painted, on the banner behind them:

END THE WAR IN VIET NAM

They made enough noise to drown out the din of traffic from the city beyond the trees of the park, but were still situated in a well-enough traveled area to make a statement, even if half their audience was wide-eyed tourists and the other half was jaded Manhattanites.

Killian Jones, from the view of his park bench, was probably more aligned with the former group, though that didn’t mean he didn’t appreciate their drive and optimism. He didn’t think it would work—that they really only had half an idea of what they were trying to achieve.

But maybe, if he hung around them enough, some of that hope would rub off on him. Because it had been a damn long time since he’d had any.

At least, it felt like that. In reality, it had hardly been a year since his discharge; three since he first deployed. But in those few years, he’d lived a lifetime.

He was of age with the protesters, more than likely, yet still felt like an old man shaking his head at the folly of youth. Those trust fund college kids would never know what it was like there, in the jungle—the thick air, the long marches, the bombs the bombs the bombs the b—

He shook his head; if he followed down that train of memory, it’d take ages to get out of it, and he was actually having a good day for a change. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t still be stopping at the bodega by the subway entrance to pay a visit with his friend Captain Morgan (or one of his other, cheaper brethren). But he didn’t need to head for the bottle...yet. Not until his one remaining hand started shaking, so he was alright thus far.

Commotion surrounding one of the park’s trash cans caught his eye; a group of young men were gathered around it, each one sticking the corner of a piece of paper into their lighters and laughing while the sheet went up in flames, letting the ashes fall into the bin below.

Killian couldn’t help but scoff. They could burn those draft cards all they wanted; if their number came up, Uncle Sam wouldn’t take no for an answer.

Perhaps the college kids were a bit smarter than him in that regard, though—he’d actually signed up for the military voluntarily, determined to follow his big brother Liam’s steps and make a name for themselves. Yet all it had wrought him was a lovely case of post-Vietnam syndrome, a medical discharge, and a spot on a waiting list for a prosthesis where his left hand used to be.

At least he’d made it out. Liam’s body never even got out of the jungle. (The official designation was “missing in action”, but—Killian saw what happened; felt the heat of the flames. He knew. And he relived it every night, waking up screaming and sweat-soaked in his secondhand sheets.)

Technically, he was being treated by the VA, and had check-ins and appointments every so often. Normally, he was seen in Brooklyn, where he lived, but there was a day several weeks ago when the phantom pains got too bad to bear and the overladen clinic had no openings, so he had to make the trek out to the Manhattan building. He was taking a walk through the park after, killing time before his train home, when he stumbled upon the small but dedicated rally.

And, for some inexplicable reason, he kept coming back. He was frankly out of fucks to give when it came to considering why. But it was a nice break from the monotony of liver abuse and spinning old 45s on repeat.

He never talked to anyone, though there were some fellow veterans visibly part of the proceedings. And no one tried to interact or get him to protest; his shaggy hair and leather jacket, hand and wrist shoved deep in the pockets, were either off-putting, or suggested he was like-minded enough to not need convincing of their cause.

It got him out of the house, exposed him to some fresh air, and was probably the only thing keeping him from a self-destructive downward spiral.

At least—until it was time to get on the train back to Brooklyn.

Then, he did stop in the convenience store for some bottom-shelf rum. He shuffled down the steps to the subway platform, trying to ignore the ever-present smell of urine and exhaust. Jumped on his train, flopped in a seat, and then uncapped the fifth. The sway of the train always reminded him of riding the Tube back in London, a lifetime ago as a small boy, before—everything.

Generally, he was able to remain mostly sober by the time the train pulled into the station nearest his apartment—at least, as sober as he ever was nowadays. But behind the locked door of the dingy flat he used to share with his long-gone family, the bottle was usually empty by the end of the night, and he was passed out on whatever flat surface he ended up on, the mattress or the floor.

And then he’d awake the next morning with a splitting headache and fading nightmares, waiting for something to push him in one direction or the other.

══════════════════════════════

As time went on, he found himself spending more and more time in the park. Not necessarily at the protest, but walking around, people watching. His caseworker, Robin, appreciated that he was getting fresh air, even if he was sipping from a flask the whole time. It was progress, of some sort.

That said—he still found himself among the dissenters whenever he was there, for at least a little while. He began to recognize some faces, though hadn’t yet worked up the desire (or courage) to try to talk to anyone. Similarly, most recognized that he was best left to his own devices, so while he might make eye contact and be on the receiving end of some half smiles, that was the extent of his human contact on the average day.

Until, one early spring afternoon, while sitting in what had become his usual bench on the outskirts of the demonstration, a small creature plowed into his knee—more specifically, a small child, he determined once he’d gotten over the jolt. (Something he was working on, but it was slow going when the slightest startle brought about a string of reactions more suited for war zones than city parks.)

When he finally looked down at the little lad, it was into a pair of large brown eyes and a wide grin, a set of chubby fingers gripping his knee while the other hand was proffering a slightly bent daisy.

“Fow-er!” the little boy yelled, shaking the stem toward him.

“For me?” Killian asked, his voice nearly cracking in surprise.

“Uh-huh!”

“Why, thank you sir,” he replied, and gently took the bloom from the boy. He tucked it in his breast pocket for safekeeping. “You’re quite the little gentleman, aren’t you?” he asked, smiling and ruffling the boy’s (clearly done-at-home) bowl cut.

(Though it wasn’t like his own shaggy locks weren’t a result of similar efforts—an old, dull pair of scissors and a lopsided, one-handed attempt at trimming his fringe; the rest could grow long so long as it was out of his eyes—or until he had enough foresight to head to a barber before a bodega.)

The boy giggled, but Killian took the opportunity to scan the crowd while he was still somewhat safe in his grip. Surely someone was keeping an eye on the lad, or at least concerned he’d wandered off? Granted, the streets of his neighborhood were full of unsupervised children not much older than this one, but—this was downtown; it was different.

“Lad, where’s your mum?” he asked, shifting his hand to the boy’s shoulder.

He looked over his shoulder and pointed to the crowd, but the next words that came out of his mouth were incomprehensible to Killian’s ears—someone named David? Maybe?

Thankfully, a frantic voice started shouting from the swath of people, and he could see the crowd parting to let someone through.

“Henry? Henry!”

“Mama!” the boy—Henry, apparently—shouted, but made no move to leave Killian.

“Henry! Oh my god,�� the woman yelled, and quickly knelt in front of the tot and pulled him into her arms. “Do not scare me like that!”

Killian vaguely recognized the blonde woman, he thought, as being one of the people at the center of the protest. She was young, too, or at least seemed it; but he recognized some of the fatigue of a hard life that hung on her frame like it did his.

Regardless, this wasn’t the place for a kid. If he was right and she’d been around here before, then she knew what could happen at these events—when things got out of hand. And she was just bringing her child into the fray?

“You really need to keep a better eye on him, lass,” he said, fully aware of the edge creeping into his voice.

Her eyes jumped from her son to him in an instant; fierce green was staring at him from behind thick-rimmed glasses. “Excuse me?”

“All these people around, in the middle of the city—anything could have happened to him.”

“Well I was going to thank you for finding him, but not if it comes with a lecture. I’ve got him now. It’s fine.” She stood up and took Henry by the hand, using the other to brush some dirt off her bell-bottomed jeans.

“Look, you know how these events can get out of hand fast. It’s no place for a kid, let alone one who should be leashed.”

He regretted it just about as soon as he said it, especially when her eyebrows nearly jumped into her bangs. “If you have an issue with how I parent my son, you’re more than welcome to leave.”

“Fine. Just keep him safe.” And he got up and stormed away.

Looking back, he had no idea why he reacted the way he did. He didn’t have any particular affinity for children, though he didn’t dislike them. His own childhood was far from glamorous, but he didn’t have any bad memories of parental neglect—his father had left them, but his mum never did, not until she passed. He still wasn’t even sure if he was passionate about the cause.

But...when that little boy smiled at him so genuinely, without any pretense, knowing nothing about Killian, his terrifying past, or his sorry present, it triggered a feeling he hadn’t known since he returned stateside—possibly ever.

Someone simply wanted to share something with him and make him smile.

Despite his lingering anger at the encounter, that odd bit of hope carried him home; even the old woman at the bodega gave him a funny look as she gave him his change (and his rum).

The last thing he saw before he passed out that night, “Paint it Black” spinning in the background, was the slightly beat-up daisy, carefully placed in a glass of water on his coffee table. He fell asleep smiling.

══════════════════════════════

He tried to stay away from the park for a while after that, not wanting to invoke the fiery blonde’s ire; there were plenty of other parks around town—plenty of other people who hated the war. Robin had given him some information on some support groups he might benefit from, and he’d given the information a solid eye, but he wasn’t sure he was enough of a hippie for whatever kumbaya they offered. (Unless they were offering marijuana, too...but he didn’t think that was an appropriate question to ask his caseworker.)

So it was no surprise when he ended up on his usual park bench a week or so later. He wasn’t even thinking about it; he was coming out of a fog—either rum or morphine, he wasn’t sure, but his phantom pains had been hurting something awful that day and the VA was all too eager to dope him up and move him on. Before he knew it, he was floating up the steps of a subway station across from the park, and the varying particles of him didn’t settle back into a solid form until the recognizable sound of dissent reached his ears.

He blinked his eyes clear as the bleariness from the drugs wore off, though thankfully their effect on his left arm lingered. The park and his surroundings were their own kind of balm, too, though he didn’t dare to say anything so sappy as it being “good for his soul”.

He continued to come down as the world rotated around him; probably a good metaphor for his life. But he was dragged back into the goings-on when a familiar mop-top smacked into his legs again.

“Hi!” The little boy from last week screeched, a battered dandelion in his fist. “Fow-er?”

“Again?” Killian sighed, even if the gesture was just as heartwarming as it had been last time. “Where’s your mum this time?”

“For you!” was his only reply as he shoved the flower into Killian’s hand.

“You’re too kind, sir,” he replied, taking it, “but really—we need to find your mum.” Why was Henry here again? Not everyone here would react the same as he did to a small, unattended child running up to them; with as fearless as Henry seemed to be, it wasn’t hard to imagine the worst happening. (And that wasn’t just his intrusive thoughts talking.)

The boy began to babble again, so Killian gently gripped his arm and glanced around for his mother; at least he knew what she looked like this time.

His eyes scanned the crowd and he listened as well as he could, though he wasn’t at his sharpest. Finally, though, he found her, near the center stage as it were—really just some crates bolted together—talking to another passerby in earnest. He admired the devotion to the cause, but not when it came at the risk of her son’s safety.

“Henry, can I pick you up?” he asked the boy, though he realized as soon as he said it that the question was just as much for him.

Thankfully, Henry wasted no time in holding his arms up; Killian managed to scoop up the boy with just his right arm, but instinctively tried to stabilize him with the left—only to hit the blunted end of his wrist. He hissed in pain as stars filled his vision, but it wasn’t as bad as it could have been—the morphine was still numbing the pain to some extent.

“You okay?” Henry asked, patting him on the shoulder.

“Aye,” he breathed, hoping if he said it, he’d will it. “Let’s go to your mum.”

She was still in her conversation as they approached, but as they got closer, he saw her eyes widen behind her glasses. She quickly excused herself and dashed over to intercept them.

“Henry! What have I told you?” she whisper-yelled as she pulled him into her arms. “You can’t go wandering off like that!”

“Perhaps you should stop putting him in harm’s way, then,” Killian bit out. “What other strange men has he ran up to while you weren’t looking?”

She glared at him. “Apparently, only one asshole. Maybe I should be asking you why you keep ending up with my son?”

“You can make me your villain if you want, but I’m not the one you should worry about. A protest is no place for a babe.”

“You think I’m just bringing him here for the hell of it? Teaching him while he’s young or something?”

“I don’t know; you tell me. Can’t you leave him with his father?”

“I can’t, actually, because his father is dead.”

Oh. Well that did complicate things.

His eyes darted to her left hand, only to see her ring finger was bare. He could only imagine the judgment she’d faced for that—and was starting to realize why she might have a good reason to bring her son to an anti-war rally.

And a long-lost sense of honor and duty drifted through the haze of his conscience, not to mention a hefty amount of guilt.

“Well, thanks,” she spat, clearly feeling anything but grateful, and turned her back to him to walk away.

“Wait,” he said, though not very forcefully. It was enough for her to pause and look over her shoulder at him. “I know you don’t know me, but, if you want—if you need—I can keep an eye on the lad, while you’re here.”

“Thanks, but no thanks,” she threw back, and continued away from him.

He swallowed as she left him in the proverbial dust, trying to figure out why her rejection of his offer felt like such a gut punch. He’d been far more disappointed in life and far more traumatized.

And, in reality, he probably shouldn’t have expected even a halfway decent parent to leave their child with a man who was noticeably high, whose hand was shaking with tremors indicating some other issues.

For a fleeting second there, though, he thought he could have some purpose, small as it was. And it was more crushing than he’d anticipated to be turned down.

He shuffled out of the park, following his usual routine in heading home. But when he got to the bodega, he noticed the dandelion in his reflection, tucked into his coat pocket again. He wasn’t even sure when that had happened. But the weed was just enough of a burst of hope that he needed to not give up so easily.

There was something drawing him to that little boy and his mum, and even if he was in sore need of some help himself, if he could assist them, maybe that would be enough to keep him going until he otherwise figured out his life.

══════════════════════════════

A few days later, when he was in as improved a place as he was bound to get, he showed up to the park like normal. He was fairly clear-headed this time, though had his flask nearby if he got too shaky (and took a sip or two as he climbed the steps from the subway platform).

He passed his bench and entered the loose crowd of people at the demonstration, searching for the spirited blonde and her tot. It didn’t take long; she was once again near the center, talking to one of the men he recognized as an organizer of the movement here. Her hand was holding Henry’s, but he was desperately trying to pull his mom in another direction—anywhere but there, it seemed.

She finally relented and turned her attention to the boy, but he quickly caught her eye. He supposed he wasn’t surprised that she scooped Henry into her arms and went on the defensive.

“The hell are you doing here?” Anger flashed in her green eyes, a sharp contrast to her red leather coat.

“It’s a public park,” he quipped back, his own defensive instincts coming to the forefront. But he took a breath and eased off. “I just wanted to reiterate my offer from the other day. If you need someone to watch the lad while you’re fighting the man, I’m more than willing to.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Why should I trust you?”

That was a valid point. He hardly trusted himself; lord knew he’d be a terrible role model for any older a child. But— “Is anyone else offering?”

She pursed her lips at his equally true response. “Fair. But why are you? You don’t know me; I don’t know you. I don’t even know why you’re here or what your name is.”

“First Sergeant Killian Jones, United States Marine Corps.”

It was her turn for a wash of realization, apparently, and he didn’t miss the way her eyes gave him a quick once over, lingering on the empty left cuff of his jacket. “I see. They let you into the US military with that accent?”

He scratched nervously behind his ear. “Moved here when I was 13; as long as you have a green card, they don’t ask too many questions.”

“No, they don’t,” she concurred. “Are you sure, though? He can be a handful.”

“Good thing I still have one,” he replied with a self-deprecating grin.

The string of emotions that usually played across someone’s face at such a quip were always amusing to him, and hers were no exception, as she quickly moved through horror, apology, and finally settling on something akin to awkward amusement. “I didn’t mean—”

“No one does; it’s fine.”

The man she’d been talking to earlier shouted out, “Emma!” and beckoned her over.

“Oh, that’s me,” she said, and then turned to Henry. “I’m going to leave you with Sgt. Jones for a bit; is that alright?”

“Okay, Mama!” the little boy answered without complaint, then looked up at Killian. “No fow-er today.”

“Well, that’s alright,” he replied, holding his hand out as Emma—apparently—set him down; the boy didn’t hesitate to wrap his small fingers around Killian’s rough ones. “Perhaps we can find some nearby?”

“Thank you,” she effused again. “I’ll be right over here, in case he needs anything. And just—stay in sight?”

“Of course, Emma.” He liked the way her name felt on his lips. (He wasn’t sure what he thought of that notion, though, sudden as it were.)

She gave him a smile—a tight, small thing, but it seemed like it was rare enough she gave those to anyone other than her son that he ought to treasure it. And then she ran back to the curly-haired guy.

There was another bench nearby, this one with varying weeds sprouting about its base, which meant Henry was quite content to build a bouquet (and put another dandelion in Killian’s pocket). The boy babbled the whole time, and though Killian began to pick up on more words the more time he spent around him, a translator would have been helpful. But he seemed to be content as long as he had someone to talk to, and Killian’s intermittent nods, gasps, and “tell me more”s kept him engaged enough that he didn’t even attempt to wander off.

Eventually, though, the boy took a seat next to Killian, laid his head against his side, and promptly fell asleep. Killian almost couldn’t breathe—partly for fear of waking him, and partly out of shock. It was one thing to enjoy spending time in his company, and for Killian to keep a watchful eye; this was a whole other level of trust he hadn’t anticipated.

(And he had to will away the shaking in his hand, lest it disturb the boy’s slumber.)

Thankfully, Emma came back shortly, but even she was taken aback by the sight. “Wow; has he been out long?”

“Not very, no; I apologize if this means he’ll be a handful at bedtime.”

She waved it off. “He always is; this won’t change a thing.” She came over to pick him up, and the boy automatically nestled himself in her shoulder. “Look—I’m sorry for the way I’ve treated you the last couple times you’ve been here; I—”

“Love, no,” he interrupted as he stood. “I made some rash assumptions and rude statements; it wasn’t my place.”

She shrugged. “It wasn’t mine, either. But thank you. It was nice to be able to focus on things here and not constantly worry about him.”

“I can imagine,” he said. “Um, if you’d like, I could watch him again sometime.”

Her eyes grew wide, magnified by her glasses. “You’d really do that?”

He shrugged. “Someone has to fight the good fight. And I’ve done enough of that, but if this is some small way I can support the cause, then I’m glad to.” Frankly, he astonished even himself with that statement, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t true. He went on, though. “I can’t say I keep an exactly regular schedule, but whenever I’m here, I’d be glad to keep an eye on him.”

She smiled again, even bigger than the last one. “That would be amazing. I’m not here every day, either, but whenever we match up—absolutely. Thank you.”

The man she’d been working with earlier came up alongside her then. “You read to go, Emma?” But he was giving Killian an assessing stare.

“Oh—yeah. David, this is First Sergeant Jones,” she introduced, nodding at Killian. “And this is my brother, one of the directors here, David Nolan.”

There was a steeliness in David’s gaze that didn’t relax, even if the man’s posture did; it was a look Killian knew from his own experience (his own brother) of protective instincts. But he still offered a hand, which Killian took, and he shook it firmly. “Thanks for being here,” he said. “Any chance we could get you on stage?”

Emma threw a warning glare at her brother, but he didn’t fault the man for asking. “I’m not much for public speaking, I’m afraid,” he replied—though he feared more reliving those dark days in the jungle. He’d seen enough other vets recount their horrors on that stage, and they barely even scratched the surface; maybe someday, but not anytime soon.

“You’re fine,” she assured him. “David, go on; I’ll catch up.”

David’s eyes narrowed, but then he gave a nod and headed off.

“Ignore him; he’s overprotective but also always looking for a bigger impact to make here,” she said once he was out of earshot. “I get the impression it’s not something you like talking about.”

“Not particularly, no,” he agreed. “It’s...not something I’m much proud of, or much like reliving.” The screams in his nightmares weren’t just his or his brother’s—the things they’d been commanded to do—he squeezed his eyes shut against the sudden onslaught of memories, but—

“Hey—you’re here; it’s okay,” Emma told him, but it was her hand squeezing his arm that pulled him out of the mental hole he’d started to go down. “Are you—are you getting any help?”

“Some,” he whispered, “at the VA. But...there’s a lot of us.”

“Yeah.” There was concern etched in her brows, but neither of them seemed to know what to do about it. “Well—take care of yourself, okay? Until I see you next?”

“I’ll do my best.” He knew that wasn’t much, but it was something.

“I’ll be seeing you, then,” she said, gave him another smile, and then made her leave.

He turned the opposite way and meandered through the park, giving himself a bit of time to clear his head from his almost-breakdown—and to take some stabilizing sips from his flask. They quelled the tremors in his hand, but not his shaken nerves. He hated how often that happened, but that was the first time it happened in company. At least Emma had been understanding.

What was even more, though, was that she hadn’t judged, and she hadn’t changed her mind about him. She might yet, but—she hadn’t told him not to come back, or that she didn’t want him around her son. That on its own was significant.

Maybe he wasn’t a completely lost cause, then. Didn’t mean he wouldn’t get lost in a bottle tonight, but in general—there was some hope.

══════════════════════════════

He showed up a few days later to a smiling Emma and excited Henry. And again the next day, and then a couple days after. As he’d said earlier, he wasn’t much for a schedule, save for his biweekly meetings with Robin (which he always followed with a trip to the park), and they weren’t there every time he was. She worked in a diner, apparently, and took classes at Bronx Community College a couple days a week. Her sister-in-law usually helped with watching Henry, but she was a teacher and had her own schedule, too, which was why Emma usually brought him to the park. “Figured the fresh air was good for him,” she explained; Killian had no counter to that, given that he always enjoyed the reprieve from his stuffy apartment.

He also learned she was only 20; not significantly less than his 23, though perhaps they were just both old souls. They hadn’t shared their respective traumas, but they didn’t really have to—it was pretty apparent they’d both lived through some shit, and they recognized that fact in each other.

It didn’t take long for them to strike up something of a friendship. He wasn’t sure if he could really be much of a good friend anymore, but he certainly tried, for her sake and Henry’s. The lad could warm even the hardest heart, and there were certainly days—after bad nights, usually—that Henry’s bright smile and chatter were just the balm he needed. And it seemed as though Emma liked having someone to talk to who she wasn’t related to or worked with.

He was a little surprised at how much he enjoyed their company. He’d gotten so used to being on his own in the last year, and some time before that, prior to his discharge, that he’d forgotten what having connection was like. No wonder Robin had been pushing him towards those support groups. He still wasn’t sure he was ready for something like that, but just—talking to someone, conversing with a voice that wasn’t his nor whoever was singing out of his record player, was refreshing.

He even began to understand more of Henry’s stories, and realized that most of them involved his family. He never asked, but given the lack of talk about his father, he had to assume the man had met a fate similar to far too many overseas, and long before Henry could form memories.

After a month or so of these sporadic shared afternoons—with Killian watching Henry until he fell asleep, and Emma joining him for a conversation of some length (David occasionally joining in and, if he wasn’t mistaken, warming up to Killian), she asked him to join them for dinner. “Just at the place I work,” she added. “We get a discount.”

How could he say no? (That, and he wasn’t sure when he’d last ate something that wasn’t a TV dinner—especially ironic since he didn’t own a working television; no amount of tin foil could get those antennae to get reception.)

That too became an intermittent tradition, and he gradually got to know Mary Margaret, David’s wife and said sister-in-law, as well as Granny, Emma’s surly (but caring) boss.

He still had bad days. He still got phantom pains. He still ended too many nights well into a fifth. But things were looking up.

══════════════════════════════

That said, Emma still managed to throw him for a loop. “Are you coming to the be-in on Sunday?” she asked one evening in late March.

He’d seen the flyers for it all over town, even in Brooklyn, calling for a mass gathering on Easter to not so much protest the war, but celebrate life itself (although it no doubt had something to do with the decision made by the city parks department to no longer allow mass demonstrations in the park, as well). “Do you need me to watch Henry then?” He thought it odd she’d try to bring him to something as large as that.

“No, of course not—he’s staying with Mary Margaret that night. I’m asking if you’ll be there with me.”

Oh. Well that was something else entirely. Or maybe it wasn’t and he was reading into things too much. Either way, it felt like a step up from their usual interactions, where Henry was nearly always a buffer, even when he was sleeping on his mum’s shoulder like he was now. (Not like they’d really be alone...there’d likely be thousands of people there.)

“I...guess I hadn’t gotten that far,” he answered. “Should I?”

“I’d like it,” she replied, somewhat shyly. “David will be there too, and even if it’s not technically a protest, I know he’ll be in business mode. But I think it’ll be nice to to just relax.”

And she wanted to do that...with him? He swallowed; he was taking too long to answer and definitely interpreting some other meaning in her asking. They were friends, that was all; and it’s not like he was really looking for anything more, nor was he ready for that.

(But—if he was—it would definitely be someone like Emma: fierce, sharp, determined, hardworking, beautiful...perhaps he had put more thought into this than he realized.)

“Then yeah, I’ll be there,” he finally said. “Do I need to bring anything, or wear anything, or…?”

“Just yourself,” she answered, but then tilted her head in thought. “And maybe some snacks.”

“I think I can manage that,” he said. “What time?”

“Whenever,” she said casually. “I think it starts early morning, but I probably won’t be there until around noon.”

That was sadly considered early for him, but he had an alarm clock somewhere—probably buried in a closet, but it was somewhere. “I’ll see you then, then.”

“See you,” she said, giving him a grin that never ceased to brighten his day.

They parted ways, and he promptly began to overthink his entire existence. What should he wear? Should he get a haircut? Trim his beard, short as it was? What kind of snacks did she like? What did the bodegas he frequented even have?

Bloody hell—it was still a few days away; he had time to figure this out. But, for the first time in a long while, he had something to look forward to—and he didn’t want to mess it up.

══════════════════════════════

On Sunday, just a bit after 1200 (there was a delay in the tunnel getting there), Killian arrived at the park with a paper bag in his left arm and taking a sip from his flask with the other. He’d cleaned up his beard and tried to do the same with his hair, and made sure he’d done his laundry so he had some clean clothes, though his straight-leg jeans were clearly out of style and his tshirt was a faded black (but at least it was soft). Still—he was ready.

Until he saw the mass of humanity across Sheep Meadow and suddenly felt very, very lost.

Thank God he heard his name being shouted; when he figured out where the voice was coming from, he saw Emma waving at him not far away, with David nearby.

“Good thing I saw you, huh?” she said as he got close.

“Aye; I don’t think I’d have ever located you,” he agreed, taking a seat on the blanket they had spread out.

“Nah, we’d have found you eventually; we always find each other,” David said, then nodded at the bag. “What’d’ya bring?”

“Uh, well, I wasn’t really sure,” he started, pulling out items. “But I grabbed some Bugles, some potato crisps, and some Pop-Tarts.”

“My favorite!” Emma yelled, grabbing the box of treats. “How did you know?”

“Lucky guess,” he replied, laughing; he’d never really been a fan but supposed someone might enjoy them—he just hadn’t realized how much. (The Bugles were his personal preference.)

They settled in and watched as more people arrived, spread out across the vast expanse of green. Lots of hippies—on lots of drugs—but people from all walks of life, of all ages and all races—even families in their Easter best—filled into the park, which was carefully being watched by police; he hoped their involvement wasn’t necessary, though there was something to be said for the fact they hadn’t kicked anyone out yet.

Truthfully, Killian had worried such a massive gathering might trigger some of his anxieties, but after a couple hours, he was still feeling calm. David had wandered off a bit ago to discuss some protest plans, leaving him and Emma alone and deep in conversation—about music, books, Henry, everything.

He did pull his flask back out after some time; she’d seen his tremors before, but if he could stave them off today, he’d prefer it. “What’s your poison?” she asked as he took a sip.

“Rum,” he replied, following the familiar burn down his throat, then offered her the flask. She gamely grabbed it and took her own long pull, though coughed a bit after she swallowed.

“Yeah, that’s rum alright. Guess I’m more of a whisky girl.”

“To each their own,” he shrugged as she passed it back. “Although I’m not sure I pegged you as the whiskey type, either.”

“No? What did you think?”

“Beer, maybe?”

She gagged. “No thanks; that’s what Neal liked, but I could never get a taste for it.”

“Neal?” he asked before he was even thinking—although as soon as he said it, he could make a guess.

“Henry’s dad,” she said simply. “Which...you’ve probably figured out how that ended.”

“To some extent, yeah.” A slightly awkward silence settled over them, despite the sounds of joy all around. “Do you...want to talk about it?” he finally offered.

She sighed. “Not a ton to tell. We went steady in high school; he was a couple years older than me. He got drafted nearly as soon as he graduated and didn’t have a way out of it, since his dad had cut him off as soon as he turned 18. So we got married real quick, he left, and then he didn’t come back.”

“Wait—you were married?” But, as was established, she wore no ring.

“Yeah; he didn’t want his dad to be next of kin in case anything happened. And I was young and in love, so I agreed.” She paused. “Looking back, I’m not sure it would have lasted, but at the time, it seemed like the right thing to do. Especially when I found out I was pregnant a couple months later.”

“Bloody hell.”

She nodded. “I hate that Henry doesn’t know his dad, and so I mourn what could have been; hell, I don’t even know if he got the letter I sent letting him know. It wasn’t a whole lot later I had a couple of g-men at the door saying he was gone. But...is it bad that I don’t think I really miss him?”

“Not necessarily,” he replied, though it wasn’t a position he’d ever been in. “Raising his son is the best way you could honor him, as is promoting an end to the war. He’ll always be important to you, but you don’t have to structure your life around grieving him, not when you have other responsibilities—and when you’re so young.”

She scoffed a bit. “Yes, because you’re so old,” she teased.

“I certainly feel it sometimes,” he countered. “Feels like I’m going on 240 some days, rather than 24.”

“Then that makes me 237.”

“And you look fantastic for it.”

She giggled, but it didn’t last before she turned somber again. “You’ve lost someone too, haven’t you?”

“A few,” he said simply. “My parents are gone, same as yours.” She’d explained that one a while ago. “But yeah—my brother. We served in the same unit. I...he...he died. In my arms.”

“Oh, Killian. I’m so sorry.”

Her words sounded far away, though, as the image came back into his mind’s eye—the humid forest, the heat of the bombs, the smell (god, the smell)—

“Hey—I’m right here; we’re here,” she said, grabbing his arm again and pulling him out before he fell too far in. “Sorry; I shouldn’t have prodded.”

“No; it’s fine,” he assured her, though he took a pull from the flask he was still holding. “But perhaps I should take some of my own advice; I spend so much time trying to forget how he died that I can't remember how he lived.”

“What was he like?”

“A stubborn arse,” he joked.

“Oh, like David?”

“A bit.”

They shared stories of growing up—her in the Bronx, he in England and then Brooklyn—comparing and contrasting their youths and taking note of the many similarities between their older brothers; no wonder he and David were starting to get on well.

As the day wore on, she convinced him to try one of the strawberry-flavored Pop-Tarts and he had to admit—it was better than he remembered...but the Bugles were better.

David came back eventually, with some franks he’d acquired from a street vendor, and they watched as the sun began to set into the city’s skyline.

Despite the occasional outburst from the crowd, and their own emotional revelations, it had been a peaceful afternoon, thoroughly enjoyable, and more fun than he’d had...probably since before he enlisted.

At one point, Emma had left to track down some glasses of water; when she came back, she sat right next to him, leaning her shoulder into his, her red leather right against his black. It was a physical familiarity he’d never really known, high school girlfriends aside, but he didn’t dare voice how much he enjoyed it lest he risk breaking whatever happy spell had descended on them all. (If he was being rational, it was probably residual high from the many dope smokers around them, but that was also reason enough to throw logic out the window.)

But as evening darkness settled, everyone was jolted into awareness by bright lights suddenly being beamed into the crowd. Then the cops came over their bullhorns and speaker systems, ordering everyone to disperse. Confusion and chaos quickly broke out, but this was precisely why Mary Margaret had stayed home: in case they needed a bailout.

Quickly, they gathered their things and got up, although they soon lost David in the swarming crowd. Killian tried to call for him, but Emma said it was fine—she’d see him at home. “We just need to go,” she said, starting to sound panicked.

Well, he hadn’t reached the rank of sergeant for no reason. Without thinking, he grabbed her hand and looked for a path through the throng of people heading in every direction. “Hold on,” he commanded, and began to press through as fast as he could.

Their path was winding, and not the fastest way to get out of the park, but it worked, and they were eventually breathing—well, not fresh air, but that’s how they knew they were clear of any potential danger, standing under a streetlight on 5th Avenue.

“Thank you,” she sighed as they both caught their breath. “That was a bit more excitement than I thought we’d have.”

“Yeah,” he concurred; he hadn’t moved that briskly since...well, the jungle. “You think David got out alright?”

“He’s a big boy; he’ll be fine. And if not...we’ll get him.”

She was still holding his hand and leaned against the light pole, a happy smile taking over her face.

“That was fun,” she giggled.

“Aye,” he chuckled back, and stepped a bit closer to her, so they both stood in the circle of light from the lamp. “That...seems to happen a lot more lately.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

The moment between them grew heavy in a way he wasn’t sure how to interpret. But he didn’t miss the way her eyes darted to his lips.

In another life—his coquettish school days, perhaps—he would have made some flirtatious quip and essentially dared her to kiss him.

But, as it turned out, he didn’t have to. “Can I kiss you?” she bluntly asked.

“Yes.”

She didn’t hesitate to grab the lapels of his jacket and haul him in, quickly finding his lips with hers. His hand and wrist settled on her waist, and he ignored the brief jolt of pain as he got lost in—her: the way she felt against him, the way her lips tasted (like Pop-Tarts), how the rest of the city seemed to disappear for a long moment.

Truly, nothing seemed to exist but them, until all too soon they were breaking apart for air. But even then, it was just him and her in the glow of the light. “That was…” he murmured, but his mind wasn’t clear enough to determine just what.

“Something I’ve been curious about for a while,” she finished, and he felt more than saw the smile on her lips.

“And?”

“Even better than I imagined.”

Now it was his turn to grin, and to find her lips again.

Their moment didn’t last much longer—it couldn’t, lest they both missed their trains home, but it was a sweet reprieve from the responsibilities (or lack thereof) they dealt with daily.

“Can I at least see you to your train?” he said softly as they got ready to depart.

She laughed again. “It’s the same station, silly.”

They kissed a few more times before hers arrived, and his was the next one out.

And if a goofy grin played at his lips the whole ride home…then good; let everyone see how happy he was, even if only for one night.

══════════════════════════════

Of course—it had been a while since he’d done...this—romance. His more gentlemanly instincts wanted him to call and make sure she’d gotten home okay, and then ask her out again on a proper date.

But that was kind of hard to do without a phone number, or even the right phone book—he could only seem to come up with one for Brooklyn (that was five years old at that).

So he swallowed his awkward pride, bought a bouquet at the bodega, and showed up to the park in their normal spot at their normal time a couple days later.

Emma was engaged in conversation when he got there, Henry tugging at her miniskirt, but when she saw him coming, her eyes lit up.

But before she could even approach, Henry screamed out “Kill’an!” and ran for his legs.

He knelt and gave the boy a hug; who knew that such tiny arms could give such a warming embrace?

And when Emma did come over, he shifted Henry into his left arm and stood to greet her, but before he could even present the flowers, she was pressing a kiss against his cheek. There was a slight nervousness in her features, too, but that honestly made him feel more at ease. They both had baggage—some more visible, some not—but they could navigate that together.

More than that, maybe this was something he could just...have. There hadn’t been a whole lot of that in his life—something he had any control over. Perhaps this could be that.

Nothing much changed, really—they still saw each other more than a few times a week; he still watched Henry, and they still went to Granny’s diner after. It was just—more: more closeness, more affection, more kisses. He was still working up the nerve (and cash) to take her out on a proper date, but she thankfully didn’t seem to mind that he hadn’t yet.

And at the next be-in a month later—this time an actual protest, with a subsequent march on the United Nations and even a speech from Dr. King—they walked hand-in-hand, shouting for peace.

His soul just might finally have found some.

══════════════════════════════

But nothing in his life was ever that easy, was it?

He was still on the waiting list for a prosthesis, continually moving down in priority as men came back from Viet Nam even more broken than he. Robin was apologetic, but he could see how harried the man was and wasn’t about to let his own somewhat short temper snap at the man.

It wasn’t like having that piece of equipment would miraculously make the phantom pains go away, anyway, but whatever he’d been doing while watching Henry lately was exacerbating them (not that he’d ever let the lad know that; Emma seemed to figure it out, though, by the way he’d wince and shake at the end of the day). So he was making somewhat more frequent trips for pain relief than he’d like to be making.

It all coalesced one day in May—the anniversary of Liam’s death, because of course it would all happen that day. He was already holed up in his apartment, well into his bottle, when an odd sound rattled in the street below. He went to the window to investigate, but before he could, it rang again—shots.

Instinctively, he hit the floor, jarring his wrist in the process and sending stars across his vision as he cried out in pain.

But when they cleared, he was back in the jungle—the thick green foliage all around, the smell of death hanging in the air, the bombs the bombs the bombs and—Liam—Liam was in his arms—but he was—he was—

He didn’t know how long he was stuck in the traumatic loop; not even the sirens down below pulled him out, nor his own retching. He wasn’t sure what did, really, until he heard the shrill ringing of his alarm clock. Somehow he got up and shut it off—it was only a few feet away on the coffee table—but that was usually his signal to pull his shit together and go watch Henry; he was in no shape to do that today. It didn’t help that he’d apparently left the record player on, spinning an endless loop of “Strawberry Fields Forever” that didn’t aid his addled mind at all.

But being in this ghost-filled apartment wouldn’t help, either. Maybe Emma would understand that he just needed to be there—away, out. Or maybe she’d finally realize she was so much better than his sorry arse and kick him to the curb like she should have done months ago.

He threw on his cleanest shirt and grabbed his nearly empty bottle and headed out. The train was packed, and slow, or at least it felt like it, so at least he didn’t mind when the world began to blur as he gripped the overhead bar and swayed with the car.

He nearly missed his stop but managed to stumble out before the doors closed, and nothing else quite registered until he was in the park, dropping his now-empty bottle in the nearest waste bin. He scrubbed a hand down his face and took a deep breath, trying to clear the fog from his mind. It didn’t work, but maybe he’d at least be able to hide it enough to keep anyone from worrying—or judging.

Henry didn’t mind, and came charging at him with his usual enthusiasm; never had a hug felt better. He didn’t trust himself to be steady enough to hold the growing boy, though, so he took his hand instead, and prayed Henry didn’t notice Killian’s world tilting off its access once he was upright again.

Emma, though—he should have known better than to try to hide it from her. “Killian, what’s wrong?” She was kneeling at his side sooner than he realized, hand cupping his face and worry furrowing her brow.

“Don’ worry about me,” he tried to reassure her. “Just...not a good day. I don’t...I probably won’t be much company today.”

He could almost see the steel set into her gaze and prepared himself for a verbal lashing. But instead, she picked up Henry and grabbed his hand, then pulled him away from the small but devoted crowd.

He lost track of where they were going but was aware of the fact that it was suddenly quieter, and she was pushing him down onto a bench. She was still standing in front of him, though. “Who’s your contact at the VA?” she asked, digging through her purse.

“Um, Robin,” he said, pulling the name from the haze of his mind. “Robin Locksley.”

She turned around—they were at a payphone, apparently—and went about calling. He tried to tell her not to bother, he’d be fine, but she just sent another glare his way and he shrunk back.

“You need help, Killian,” she said, almost angrily.

“The VA has enough on its plate.”

“Yeah, and you need more than them. Just—let me do this, okay?” She stepped closer and her hand brushed his cheek again, and he thought he might cry.

She turned her attention back to the phone, and other than Henry’s gentle pats on his shoulder, he began to lose awareness of whatever else was going on around him. Voices became muddled, and his vision clouded. He was vaguely aware of Emma moving him somewhere—his feet got the message his brain didn’t—and they might have been in a cab? At some point, his head wound up on her shoulder and he got lost in the clean scent of her hair.

But all too soon, it was stopping, and what followed was a blur of hospital rooms and doctors and the smell of antiseptic and trying desperately not to flash back to the field hospital in Da Nang (and failing, several times). There were brief moments of lucidity where he wasn’t reliving past traumas, but even those were so muddled he couldn’t tell dreams from reality.

(He thought he felt Emma’s lips on his forehead once, saw her bright green eyes behind those thick black frames in the midst of the jungle, but he wasn’t sure what to trust or believe any more.)

Until, suddenly, it was over. He blinked his eyes open to the sterile light of a hospital room; could just hear the sounds of life from the other side of the curtain that divided it. An IV was in his arm and he felt sore all over, but mentally, he was clear for the first time in months.

Which made it all the more apparent that he was alone. And that stung worse than the physical aftereffects of withdrawal he was likely dealing with.

What did he expect, though? He wasn’t naive enough to think he’d be able to hide his issues from her forever; she knew about them to some extent, anyways. She deserved so much more than a one-handed veteran with a drinking problem, though; he should just be grateful that he got to bask in her glow for a little while.

And he was good at brooding, so he let himself do that for a while. Eventually, the curtain began to shift; likely a nurse coming to check on him and hopefully telling him when he could leave.

But it was Emma.

“Oh, thank God, you’re awake!” she exclaimed as she rushed to the empty chair at his bedside. “How are you feeling?”

He blinked a bit. “You’re here?”

“Of course I’m here; why wouldn’t I be?” She seemed taken aback.

“Because I’m a bloody mess,” he barked out, half laughing, half astonished.

“And I’m not?” she countered.

“You’re not the one who spent...god, I don’t even know how long I’ve been here, detoxing or whatever they did to me because you don’t know how else to handle anything.”

“It’s only been a couple days,” she told him. “And I don’t think you can really say anyone who had a kid at 17 really has their life together. If I’m getting by, it’s only because I have a support system; and guess what—so do you now.”

He scoffed. “You don’t need to do this, love; you deserve someone much better in your life than me.”

“No, I don’t need to do this. But I want to.” She reached out and squeezed his hand. “You didn’t need to look after Henry, but you wanted to. And don’t think this is just me returning the favor—you’re funny, you’re smart, you’re sweet, and you’ve got such a big heart, Killian—and it’s so easy to see the pain it carries. So don’t bother with what you think I deserve—you deserve better than what you’ve been dealing with; you deserve good things, and I plan on reminding you of that whenever you forget. Including right now, apparently.”

He blinked and swallowed—God, he could use some water—and let the weight of her statement wash over him. He wasn’t imagining this too, was he? “You’re not mad?” was all he could manage to say, though.

“I’m not—well, I am,” she admitted. “A bit at you, but mostly at—everything. And I wish I could have helped you sooner.”

He wanted to tell her he wasn’t worth it, to leave and forget about him, but he was too selfish. “Thank you,” he finally told her, though it didn’t seem like those two words were enough for all she’d done for him the last few months, even if she didn’t realize it. “For everything.”

“You can thank me by staying sober.” It was blunt, but he knew it needed to be said. He nodded.

She brushed the hair off his forehead and leaned forward to press a kiss against it (confirming that he hadn’t been dreaming it). “I have to go to work in a bit, but I’ll come by tomorrow, okay?”

“Sounds perfect, love.” He was in no position to complain.

“Get some rest. I’ll see you then.”

“I can’t wait,” he said, probably hyperbolically, but what else did he have to do?

She did give a grin at that, one he couldn’t help but return, and then slipped away.

A harried nurse eventually came and caught him up on what he’d missed in the last couple of days—a heavy detox cycle that he was still stabilizing from, and a hefty warning to not head down such a path again.

He’d do his damnedest—if not for himself and his liver, then for Emma and Henry.

The rest of the next day or so was spent in and out of sleep; he attempted to eat the meals they brought but his stomach was still uneasy (and not just because the food itself looked unappetizing, but that certainly didn’t help).

He was snoozing again early the next afternoon when a steady tapping noise woke him; it grew louder and his mind started assuming the worst, until a small voice yelled his name and burst through the curtain.

“Killian!”

“Henry!” He sat up to greet the lad as he climbed up on the bed and slammed his little body into him. He didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around the boy; there must be some magic in Henry’s hugs.

Emma came in behind him, followed by David and Mary Margaret. He felt suddenly self-conscious at having such an audience to his problems, but Emma gave him a reassuring smile, and he remembered what she said yesterday about having support. Regardless of what his pride or ego thought, he needed that—and he was glad they were the ones offering.

“How are you feeling today?” Emma asked him, brushing his hair out of his face; he didn’t know why such a small gesture meant so much to him, but he wouldn’t question it.

“Alright; still a little nauseous, and sore, but as best as can be expected.”

“Did you eat?”

He couldn’t remember the last time anyone asked him that—or cared. “Not much; couldn’t really stomach it.”

“We’ll have to get Granny to send some food over,” Mary Margaret commented. “Much better than hospital food. She sends her regards, by the way.”

“I…appreciate it,” he said, somewhat surprised, but at the same time—not really. Just not something he was accustomed to.

They politely chatted for a bit, until Henry proclaimed his need to use the restroom; Emma took him and Mary Margaret followed, leaving just him and David.

The man hadn’t said anything since they arrived, but he was getting the same vague sense of disapproval he’d gotten at their first meeting. But he did approach.

“Are you serious about staying sober?” he asked.

“Aye, I am.” He may have found these people in spite of his dependency issues, but he didn’t want to lose them over them.

“Good. You know,” he started, resting his hands on his hip-hugging jeans, “I’m not sure if Emma told you this, but…our dad fought alcohol addiction his whole life. And I know there’s a lot more to it here, but—he never beat it, and it killed him. I can’t…I can’t see that happen to someone I care about again.”

There was a quip on his tongue about David having affection more than tolerance for Killian, but now wasn’t the time. “I don’t intend to let you—any of you—down,” he assured him.

“I know some people that can help with that—some groups—if you’re open to that.”

Just a few months ago, Killian probably would have declined; but now— “I’d like that a lot; thank you.”

David smiled. “We’ll get that figured out, then; but first, you’ve gotta get out of here,” he said and clapped Killian on the shoulder. “Have they said how long?”

“Another couple days, it sounds like.”

“You’re coming home with us, you know,” Mary Margaret added as they returned to the room.

“Oh, no—I couldn’t impose—”

“It’s not imposing if it’s a command, is it?” she countered. Bloody hell, she was on par with some of his drill sergeants in terms of authority. Though he later realized that was to be expected with elementary teachers.

“Aye-aye, captain,” he agreed with a salute.

The conversation lasted a bit longer, until both he and Henry were sharing yawns and they took it as the cue to leave. He would have liked it if they could stay longer, but sleep was indeed calling.

The Nolans took Henry out, giving he and Emma a moment alone. “You really don’t have to take me in,” he told her. “I appreciate it more than I can say, but it’s not necessary; you don't need me hanging around—”

“Hush,” she cut him off. “I know we don't need to. But like I said—we want to. And I plan on keeping you around for a while, so I’d like to make sure you recover from this properly.”

That was the second time she’d made a comment regarding her long-term plans with him. As amazing as it sounded—it hurt. “Emma,” he protested. “Look at me. I can barely take care of myself; do you really see a future with someone like that? You deserve—”

“Oh, fuck off with this ‘deserve’ business, Killian! You. You are the one that I want. No one else. We’ve been taking care of each other since we met, and I’m quite content to do that for as long as either of us are able.” She sighed. “Look—I get being scared to start a new relationship; I have been ever since Neal died, so I understand if you need some time and space to get yourself sorted out. But I’m not going anywhere, and whenever you’re ready, I’ll be there.”

He blinked and let that settle in. He hadn’t even dared to dream she saw that kind of future—or any, really—with him; that it was even possible. But now that it was out in the open air— “I want that too, love. More than anything.”

“Good.” And she pressed forward and stole what little air was in his lungs with a searing kiss—at least, as much as it could be when one of them was laying on a thin hospital mattress in a creaky bed, but he managed to dig his fingers into her hair and hold her there for a few moments longer.

“Sleep,” she murmured, “and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“As you wish,” he said softly back.

══════════════════════════════

Two days later, he was discharged from the hospital, and Emma took him back to their townhouse in the Bronx.

Not even a week later, he attended his first AA meeting, with David as his sponsor.

And finally, a month after, he was able to get a prosthesis for his left side—a hook that he had to go through a few sessions of occupational therapy to learn how to use, but immediately made his life easier.

For as much as his life had felt aimless for the last year, it seemed to settle after his last breakdown. It was sad that that was what it took, but he knew it was more than that.

Meeting that little lad and his amazing mother one fateful day in the park—that was the difference. More specifically, having something to live for.

He still had days when his demons reared their heads; when the physical pain got too bad. But now—Emma was there to hold him through the ensuing tears, to massage his burning muscles. And Henry was there to put a smile back on his face.

It did take a few months for him to finally be able to take Emma out on a proper date. They went to a tiny place in Little Italy, where the food was divine and the company even better.

They went back there a year later, when he proposed.

And their wedding was a small affair, in a tiny corner of Central Park where it all began. (Henry picked the flowers Emma wore in her hair and in Killian’s boutonnière.)

The protests continued. Henry grew. Emma finished her associate’s degree, and Killian worked on one too.

He sold the flat in Brooklyn—even if it held fond memories from his childhood, it was haunted with too many bad ones. They used the money to get their own place in the Bronx, not far from the Nolans, where they later welcomed their daughter.

It was also where they watched the news (on a working television set) of the last troops leaving Viet Nam, a few long years later. Killian had been looking forward to that moment—to the day when no other man would be subjected to the horrors he and too many others had faced in that particular war.

To his surprise, though, he didn’t feel the weight lift off him like he expected. Better yet—that weight wasn’t even there.

He was thrilled, of course—it was long overdue. But where he’d expected some massive emotional release, he found only a normal amount of relief.

He’d moved on. What happened to him there impacted him greatly, but it no longer defined him.

He thought back to what had drawn him to the protests in the first place—that spirit of optimism and hope he had wished would rub off on him.

He hadn’t expected to find friends—or, better yet, family; he couldn’t even dream that, in the not-too-distant future, he’d be settled with an incredible wife and their beautiful children, building a more wonderful life than he thought he’d have.

And now…well, just look at his infant daughter’s name: Hope. He held her close to his chest as he and Emma continued to watch the news—and continued with the life they were creating together.

══════════════════════════════

thanks for reading! tagging some friends: @kat2609 @thesschesthair @optomisticgirl @xpumpkindumplingx @shipsxahoy @mryddinwilt @cocohook38 @annytecture @shireness-says @ohmightydevviepuu @profdanglaisstuff @wingedlioness @word-bug @thisonesatellite @distant-rose @wellhellotragic @welllpthisishappening @let-it-raines @pirateherokillian @its-imperator-furiosa @fergus80 @killianmesmalls @thejollyroger-writer @ineffablecolors @laschatzi @ive-always-been-a-pirate @nfbagelperson @stubblesandwich @killian-whump @phiralovesloki @athenascarlet @kmomof4 @ilovemesomekillianjones @whimsicallyenchantedrose @snowbellewells @idristardis @scientificapricot @searchingwardrobes @donteattheappleshook @jrob64 @the-darkdragonfly @itsfabianadocarmo @stahlop @klynn-stormz @resident-of-storybrooke

#cs ff #cshistfic #cs historical au #my ff

102 notes · View notes

apiratewhopines · 2 years

Text

Masquerade

Chapter 18/22 (updating daily and twice a day on the weekends apparently)

Story Summary: When his brother’s best friend calls in desperate need of help, mercenary Killian Jones will stop at nothing to save the woman from his old enemy. Flying halfway across the world to meet Emma Swan was all part of the plan, falling for her not so much.

Between deadly inventions, criminal masterminds, and his feelings, he soon realizes he may be in over his head.

That’s just the way he likes it, really.

Rating: M

Thanks to @motherkatereloyshipper for reading this over and making it better!

“Meet me at our spot

They can’t find us there”

-Meet Me At Our Spot, THE ANXIETY, Tyler Cole, and Willow

If Emma never met another interfering Jones in her life, she would be thrilled. She thought Killian was bad enough with his devil-may-care attitude, perfect face, delicious smell, and sexy all-over hair and…

Well, at least there were some advantages to him being around. His brother was a complete waste of space. Rude, self-righteous prick.

As she pulled into the parking lot of the group home, she reminded herself she didn’t need them. She may still want one of them, but that would eventually work itself out of her system. Time and distance were her best friends.

Along with Tiny.

The gentle giant had gone above and beyond. She could tell he liked the Jones team, but his affinity didn’t slow him down when she knocked on his door with tears in her eyes—angry ones, of course—and told him what she found.

Whatever guilt she may have felt at first about keeping her discovery quiet vanished the second she saw Liam’s hateful stare. Since the package upended her life, she had fiddled and fidgeted with it almost constantly, the timepiece a visceral reminder of the love she lost and the debts that still needed to be settled. It had become a portable lodestone drawing her attention and touch. So it was with some surprise that she happened to handle it at just the right angle, twisting the backing in ways it shouldn’t have moved, and a single SIM-sized microchip fell out.

She had been so excited that if she wasn’t strapped into the bucket seat of a cargo van bound for Beantown, she would have jumped to her feet. Her first instinct was to turn to her seatmate, a man who seemed to appreciate her keen sense of timing, and share the good news. But when she shifted and found him already staring at her like he was trying to memorize her face or the moment or some other intangible thing, the words backed up in her throat and she could only return his gaze.

Instead of telling him, she was left to wonder once again if his effect on her would ever fade. If repeated hook-ups and prolonged exposure would cure her of this unwelcome, one-sided feeling that consumed her.

Turns out all she had to do was meet his family.

Read the rest on AO3

@teamhook @jrob64 @kmomof4 @klynn-stormz @stahlop @xarandomdreamx @xsajx @tiganasummertree

23 notes · View notes

jrob64 · 3 years

Text

Happy Birthday Eve, @xsajx!

This story and banner were created as a birthday gift for my good friend @xsajx. (I’m actually posting this on the day before her birthday, since she will be gone on the actual day.) Hardly a day goes by that she doesn't make me laugh by telling stories about her clumsiness, love for all things sweet, or overall silliness, and by the typos which we blame on her autocorrect angry elf. She is my biggest cheerleader and encourager, and I'll be forever grateful for the day I decided to add her to my taglist!

Loads of thanks to my loyal beta, @hookedmom, and the ladies of the CSMM Discord for their writing sprints and feedback.

And my undying gratitude to @spartanguard for the excellent manip to turn Emma into a FedEx driver!

Rating: M

Words: 11,744

Also on Ao3 & ffn

*********

Lonely No More

His eyes shot up to take in the scowling blonde who was jumping out of the truck to the ground, balancing two packages in her hands.

“Excuse me?” he asked, his voice sounding strange to his own ears.

“I...I guess I’ve never thought of doing that.”

Her green eyes flashed. “Well, you should think about it! If you’re gonna live out here in the boonies, you could at least make it easier on delivery drivers!”

“I’ll take that into consideration.”

She nodded her head in satisfaction, then looked at the label on the top package. “You are Killian Jones, aren’t you?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She glared at him. “Seriously? I’m more than likely younger than you and you’re calling me ma’am?”

“Umm…”

“Emma.”

“Pardon me?”

“Whenever you order anything, I’ll probably be the one making the delivery, so you might as well know my name; it’s Emma Swan.”

“Oh. Well, it’s nice to meet you, Emma Swan, and I’m very sorry that my house was difficult for you to find. I also apologize for causing you to be delayed.”

A smile crossed her face and Killian felt like the sun had suddenly broken through the clouds. “Thanks. I only have four more deliveries to make anyway, so it’s not that bad.”

Killian realized she was still holding his boxes. “Here, let me take those. I’m sure you need to be going.”

She handed the packages to him and gave him another smile. “Yeah, I do. Now that I know where you live, I won’t need to yell at you next time, okay?”

“I would appreciate that, lass, er um, Emma.”

“I can live with ‘lass’,” she laughed, turning to head back to the truck.

Killian stood slack jawed, wondering why her laugh had such an effect on him.

She climbed onto her seat, started the engine, and called out to him, “Will I see you soon, Killian Jones?”

“Oh, uh, y-yes. I’ll probably be ordering supplies on a regular basis.”

“Okay. Until next time!”

He shifted the packages so he could raise his arm to wave, then watched the white vehicle disappear down the long lane.

*********

“How are you today, Miss Swan?” he asked politely.

“I’m fine, Mister Jones,” she smirked. “My name is Emma, remember?”

He knew he would have been nervously scratching behind his ear if his hands were empty. As it was, he felt the heat moving up his neck. “I didn’t want to be too forward.”

“So you’re a gentleman, huh?”

“Indeed I am.”

“Well, I wouldn’t have told you my name if I didn’t want you to use it.”

Killian smiled. “Duly noted.”

“I notice you have your house number added on your mailbox now.”

“Aye, better late than never, I suppose.”

Emma laughed, which caused his heart to speed up just like the last time. “All of your other delivery drivers will appreciate it, too.’

“There are no others. You’re my one and only,” he blurted, then wished the earth would open beneath his feet to swallow him.

“That’s good to know,” Emma laughed, stepping back up into her truck. “Have a good day, Killian.”

“You too, lass. Drive carefully.”

“Yes, Dad,” she grinned, then put the truck into gear and waved.

Realizing his hands were full, instead of waving, he nodded his head and graced her with one of his rare smiles, which she returned before driving away.

He carried the packages into the house, with the smile still on his face.

*********

Laying his head back on the rim of the tub, he sighed deeply. He was probably reading too much into her friendliness and was sure she treated all the other people on her delivery route the same way.

*********

“This is getting to be a habit,” Emma remarked, hopping down out of the truck with a small package in her hand.

Killian’s fingers found the spot behind his ear which always seemed to itch when he felt awkward. “Aye. I’m sure you’d rather not have to make deliveries all the way out here.”

“I really don’t mind, Killian.”

He felt her fingers slowly glide against his as she finally let go of the package and stepped back.

“I guess I’d better be on my way,” she remarked. “Do you, uh, will you have more orders arriving soon?”

“Oh, um, I...I don’t know. Possibly. I forgot a few things when I ordered my groceries last week.”

Her smile brightened. “Great! I’ll see you before long, then. Goodbye, Killian!”

“Goodbye, Emma.”

“Don’t worry - I’ll drive carefully!” she quipped before taking off.

He shook his head at her banter and stood in the driveway, until the dust created by her vehicle had completely settled.

*********

Killian was amazed at how light his heart felt in the following days. When he made his bi-weekly trip to the flower shop to deliver his pots of orchids, the florist noticed.

“You seem to be in a good mood,” she commented. “I mean, not that you’re usually grumpy or anything, but you just seem...different.”