#cs oneshot fic

[eds-gryff]

Dates Out of Duty

Edmund Pevensie x Gender-Neutral Reader

Okay, despite the pictures, Y/N is GENDER-NEUTRAL IN THIS FIC!! It is the first time I’ve written a gender neutral reader, and also I have been having horrific writer’s block for about two months, so this fic may not be the BEST. I tried very hard, though 😭😭 I’m sorry.

Also, I do have an Arranged-Marriage-with-Edmund-Pevensie fanfiction on Wattpad- it’s called ‘Alliance’ and it is a series of four books, so please do check that out!!

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Requested by @potatosdragon

‘Hi, could you please write an Edmund pevensie imagine x fem reader where it's about the types of dates he would take you on after an arranged marriage. Thank you sosososossososossosooskks much’

It’s not exactly a list of dates like most fics about this scenario are, I wanted to tell a story of the reader and Edmund’s development as well- plus, the date ideas come from both, not just from Ed. Hopefully it’ll be tolerable! 🥲

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Y/N= Your Name

Y/C/N= Your Country’s Name

Y/P/W= Your Preferred Weapon

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Riding Dates

It’s unfamiliar territory, romantic feelings for each other, but Edmund and Y/N both desperately need some semblance of comfort.

The first date, thus, is familiar territory.

He had learnt that they shared a love for horses very soon after the wedding- when he’d witnessed the delight in his then-affianced’s face upon learning that Y/N’s horse was going to come along as they returned to Narnia.

(Their wedding had taken place in Y/N’s kingdom, as per the agreement of the marriage alliance. Neither of them had smiled once during it. It had been their duty, and that was all. Neither had hoped or thought or even imagined that anything more would come out of doing their duty.)

The date is not the roaring success both hoped for- they had hoped, actually, that once they confessed their feelings for each other, things would get as easy as possible- but it’s not a devastating failure, either.

They have fun, playfully bantering with each other as they rode deeper into the woods- banter that Edmund’s horse, Philip, joined as well- and they attempt to, rather clumsily, kiss while on horseback as well. It makes them laugh, and then soon blush, once it turns out that they were quite good at kissing in even inopportune situations.

The problem comes when it is discovered that the path Edmund had chosen led them much further away than expected and when it is found that Y/N had forgotten to bring along the picnic basket.

Hunger and the fear of getting lost plays havoc on romance, and by the time they manage to return to Cair Paravel, the banter has turned to bickering, despite Philip’s most valiant efforts.

And by the time they return to their shared chambers after supper, anything more than a chaste good-night peck is unthinkable.

Bakery Dates

Y/N and Edmund are not very deterred by the less-than-ideal results of their date in the woods, especially since they wake up the next few mornings snuggled into each other.

It’s hard to stay annoyed when you wake up so comfortable and so warm and in each other’s arms- and, one of these mornings, the royals dawdle in bed for a good two hours before forcing themselves to get up.

They miss breakfast- something that’s usual for Y/N, perpetually a late sleeper, but not for Edmund, because although he loves to sleep in, he also enjoys having breakfast with his family- and so Y/N suggests going into town and to one of the bakeries, for the Just King is known to have quite the sweet tooth.

Edmund says yes, quite happily, and it’s hand-in-hand that the pair walk into the town closest to the castle.

They sample cakes and pastries and some things Y/N can’t pronounce but Edmund can with a funny accent- and the employees in the bakery are all aflutter at serving two Monarchs, and that, too, while they’re on a date!

They settle them in a large corner of the bakery, practically forcing every other customer into the opposite corner- despite repeated requests from the royal couple to treat them as regular folk- and they’re given so much sweet confections that Y/N’s tongue, unused to having such large amounts of desserts, goes numb in the middle of a sweet apple crumble. Edmund is having the time of his life, though, biting into a chocolate gateau and a rose parfait and blueberry cakes, and Y/N gazes at him quite contentedly the entire time- and then the gaze turns mutual and humorous and a bit alarmed, when the head baker packs them enough sweeties and desserts and chocolates to last a few decades.

They both are supposed have meetings that day- one with an envoy from Archenland and the other with a Tarkheena from Calormen- but the meetings are later in the day, and they know that the High King and the Queens of Narnia will happily keep the guests busy on the off-chance they are late.

His siblings are more invested in their relationship than they both are, the Just King feels.

As usual, he’s right, and it’s seen just how right he is at the next Ball.

Reading Dates

But before the Ball, comes winter, and with winter, comes the need to stay warm and cosy.

Especially for Edmund, since he does not deal well with the cold at all.

Y/N isn’t used to the cold, since Y/C/N is a warm country, and so they both have more reason than most to stay indoors during the most biting days of winter.

But they haven’t gone on a date in weeks, and Y/N is fearing that they could go back to the aloofness they had regarded each other with during the beginning of their marriage.

Neither of them wants that- Y/N and Edmund care for each other very deeply, and that’s something that even they, expert at denying feelings, cannot deny.

Hence, Y/N hauls candles and blankets and some of the bakery’s sweets in the middle of winter, in addition to asking the Kitchens to bring up some food and warm drinks.

Lastly, Y/N finds Edmund in his study, wrapped in a thick shawl his mother-in-law gave him, and they walk hand-in-hand to the destination.

In the Library, seated on a cosy couch, half-suffocated by thick blankets, Edmund and Y/N hardly talk. They read quietly in the candlelight, occasionally looking up to grin at each other or hold hands again, and even the meal is had in utterly comfortable silence, broken only at the end of it by Edmund’s declaration that they must have a sleepover in the Library.

Of course, both being the bibliophiles they are, they doubt much sleep will happen- it’s far more likely they’ll read and read and read until they fall asleep reading.

But neither will mind that- and so, Y/N climbs into Edmund’s lap, fishes a book from the pile next to them, and agrees.

Ballroom (And a Bit of Stargazing) Dates

Edmund dances well, and since he’s married, he knows that the one to dance with is his consort. He was the one to suggest they consider the Ball a date for he had no wish to spend the event with anyone apart from Y/N.

Y/N felt the same way, and his suggestion was met with an approving kiss.

Still, his siblings have some insane idea in their heads that the relationship between the two Monarchs needs meddling to grow- and their idea of meddling is to make sure no one else meddles.

And so the rest of the guests at the vibrant New Year’s Ball give the two Monarchs a wide berth throughout the event.

It suits Y/N just fine, because Edmund is easily the only one around who offers comfort as well as conversation, not to mention how fine a dancer he is, to make up for Y/N’s abysmal dancing skills. And even Edmund can’t mind, truly, not when he has his dear consort clasped in his arms, and he sees just how bright and soft Y/N’s smile, aimed at him throughout the night, is.

They spend the Ball dancing and laughing, and occasionally tripping, and they are not away from each other’s embrace for longer than a few minutes.

And then they steal away to the roof of Cair Paravel, and spend the rest of night staring up at the sky, with Edmund pointing out the different constellations in the sky, and Y/N speaking of the stories and fables of Y/C/N that were linked to the stars and the Heavens.

Y/N notices that Edmund’s freckles are like constellations. Edmund notices that Y/N’s eyes shine like the Moon. They gaze at each other more than they look at the celestial bodies.

And when the fireworks bloom into artificial stars in the sky, a few metres above them- the couple has their lips on each other’s, feeling something deep bloom in their hearts as well.

.

Things go sour not long after the Christmas Ball. It’s coming up on five years of marriage- Peter and Susan and Lucy and Y/N’s parents and both their countries were extremely frustrated by how long it’s taking for Y/N and Edmund to confess their love for each other.

But the couple is taking it slow. Neither are the type to fall in love quickly- rather, until each other, they hadn’t thought they would fall in love at all.

It is all wholly new and unexpected- for them- and they hadn’t quite believed what was happening when they’d quietly confessed to each other that they had feelings for the other. It was for that reason that there had been an unspoken agreement, after the confession, to do things slowly.

But the slowness was frustrating more than just the people around them- it was frustrating them, too!

Edmund regularly had to bite his tongue to keep from saying ‘my love’ in almost every single situation and at every moment of the day, but especially he’d come across Y/N be in the training field, eyes shining and sweaty skin glowing, perfecting the use of (Y/P/W).

The ‘I love you’ had been on the top of Y/N’s tongue every time the two Monarchs fell asleep while reading in the Royal Library, and then Y/N would be the one to wake up first, watching Edmund in peaceful slumber.

There are bets going on, in both Cair Paravel and in Y/N’s castle in (Y/C/N).

Peter said that Y/N would say it first, being the more impulsive of the pair.

Susan said that they’d both say it together, because underneath all their emotional unintelligence, there was some understanding and wisdom.

Lucy said it would be Edmund, because once he got over whatever fear was keeping from telling the three not-so-little words, he would surely want to be transparent with his consort, despite the possibility of his declaration being unrequited.

Y/N’s parents, for their part, thought that it would be another five years before the word ‘love’ would come into the conversation, and they said they’d announce their bet in three.

The sourness is not, however, Edmund and Y/N’s fault.

They’re doing quite well, actually, they feel, and they blush rather brightly every time the other’s name is brought up.

Then the Giants attacked.

Y/N spoke heatedly, looking with flashing eyes to the rest of the war council, “I’m going to fight!”

Edmund nodded, “Of course you are, darling, but you must stay here. It’s not safe to travel back to your country-”

No, Y/N wasn’t running back home! Of course not. That was what Peter had assumed for an awkward moment, and Y/N had almost thrown a scroll at his face.

“I need to get my army here, and I need to leave now. Narnia needs support, and it is part of our alliance treaty that our countries come to each other’s aid in the event of war.”

Peter stepped in here, “That’s right. Remember, Narnia has lent its troops to Y/C/N whenever minor scuffles at the border occur-”

“Of course I remember.” His younger brother said calmly, though not feeling calm at all.

His consort wanted to go out of Cair Paravel- which wasn’t safe in the least, as the Giants were camped practically just outside their walls. He couldn’t- he couldn’t risk losing someone he- someone he loved so much.

“We both signed the treaty, need I remind you. But then we can send a Raven to Y/N’s parents, they can-”

“I am the Monarch.” Y/N spoke, cutting across the Just King. There was no anger in Y/N’s voice, but it was simply firmness. “It is because of me that my country will be brought into this War, because I-”

Fell in love with you.

But the treaty had been signed long before that. And Edmund didn’t know that fact!

“Because I married you.”

Edmund swallowed. Y/N was right. There was no one else who could catch his tongue like that, or get him to change his mind.

“Very well.” He said stiffly, and looked to where Lucy was standing, already dressed in armour and looking fiercely warrior-like. “Lu, I’ll be going with Y/N, so I’ll ask Orieus if he may patrol with you instead-”

“No.” Y/N said, once against interrupting him. Somehow, Y/N’s hand was now on Edmund’s arm, and there sprung a need in both to clasp each other’s hand tight.

So, they did.

“Narnia needs you, dearest. I’ll be alright, and I’ll be back soon.”

Edmund gazed into Y/N’s eyes for a long moment, and Y/N gazed back.

The war council moved onto other matters soon, but Edmund and Y/N kept holding hands for the entirety of it- in fact, until they reached the Stables where Y/N’s horse was kept.

“Are you sure you want to leave now?” Edmund queried quietly, as his consort tied some necessities and supplies to end of the horse’s saddle. He’d been the one to have the sense to tell one of the servants to pack for a journey- Y/N was reckless enough to make the journey with nothing useful. “You could leave in the morning-”

“I don’t want to leave, but I have to. Sooner rather than later- you told me once they said that where you come from.” Y/N’s voice was just as quiet.

What if he was right? Well, of course he was right, he always was- but what if the Giants did attack Y/N on the way?

Death was inevitable, it was known- but to die while on the way to help in a War? What sort of Monarch did that?

But the alternative was not helping Narnia. The alternative was letting Edmund and Peter and Lucy and Susan suffer the War on their own.

Y/N turned to Edmund, “Spare Oom, was it?”

He smiled a little, and they neared each other, their arms sliding around each other so they stayed in an embrace for as long as they could.

“Or War Drobe. I’ve heard it both ways.”

He bent his head, and their lips met in a slow, needy, passionate kiss.

“I’ll be safe.” Y/N whispered into the kiss, knowing full well what Edmund would murmur once the embrace broke. “As safe as I can.”

“That’s not very reassuring.” He tried to joke, but it fell flat. They were going to part. Not for long, if they had any luck- but it was war. How often was good fortune found in the middle of battle? “I’ll wait for you.”

“And you best fight in midst of the waiting.” Y/N said- deciding to not ask him to be safe, because he would be. He would. He was a warrior and he was wise- he’d stay alive. “And try to think of better date ideas.”

Edmund smiled in spite of himself, “I’m the one with the good ideas. Yours are more hit or miss.”

Y/N chuckled softly, “Maybe a battle will give me inspiration, then. I’ll think of you anyway- may as well have that thinking be productive.”

“We’ll go on that date the moment the War’s over.” His smile softened, and they kissed once more- one last time.

The kiss lasted another few moments, before they both pulled away- and Y/N climbed onto the horse.

“G-goodbye.” Y/N almost said ‘my love’. “I’ll see you soon.”

Edmund raised his hand in farewell, not trusting himself to speak.

And then, as the horse pulled out of the paddock and just as his consort was almost out of sight- he spoke.

Well, shouted.

“Y/N!” He said, and the horse and her rider both turned.

They weren’t too close to each other, but they were close enough to hear each other.

Steeling himself, and not entirely sure his sanity was intact, he said loudly, “I love you.”

He saw Y/N’s eyes widen, and- then he fancied he saw a smile. His heart was pounding so hard, he was aware of very little except for his heartbeat and his consort’s outline against the sunset.

No- he wasn’t imagining it. He was seeing a smile. Y/N was smiling at him.

But then Y/N tugged on the reins, and the horse galloped away, and Edmund was left alone in the paddock of the Stables.

But at least he had received a smile in exchange for his impulsive declaration of love. It was far better than the rejection he had thought he was sure to get.

Impromptu Dates

Y/N and Edmund did not see each other until the siege of the giants ended two months later. They had news of each other, of course- letters tied to Ravens’ legs and messages delivered by dryads kept them, as well as every regiment fighting the Giants in the north of Narnia informed of what was happening.

And then, in the spring, the Giants surrendered, and High King Peter declared the War won, and he sent Ravens to all corners of Narnia and to the neighbouring lands to inform them of the news.

Y/N had been with Peter during the battles, while Edmund was stationed away, in a part of the land where strategy would be important to win than force. Lucy was with him, but she regularly rode far away to fight other threats that took advantage of the War to attack Narnia as well- while Susan stayed at Cair Paravel, holding down the fort in case the Giants somehow breeched their defences.

But now that the War was over, the Pevensies were to be together again, soon. Very soon, the four hoped.

Sooner than that, though, it Edmund and Y/N that were fated to reunite.

The path that Y/N was to take on the return from Y/C/N to Narnia was, coincidentally, the path that led from the Western Woods to Cair Paravel.

Edmund hadn’t spent the War there, no, but he had gone to check on his domain after it, just in case any of the White Witch’s supporters had come out of the woodwork and had tried to capture the forests once more.

(There hadn’t been anyone in the Western Woods except for one very adorable family of rabbits, and some deer that complimented his choice of swords over a bow and arrow.)

There was a brook nearby, and Y/N had taken off the armour and had washed up in that- not bathing, of course- and had managed to get some drinking water, too, since the water was cool enough. After such strenuous fighting and the wounds afflicted because of it, cold water was a must.

Y/N had decided to keep wearing the soaked tunic, as the wet fabric gave extreme relief to the hot and bruised skin.

As the horse began away from the brook, walking along a path bordered with flowers, Y/N heard something else.

Someone else.

Someone that travelled frequently with the man who had said ‘I love you’ just before their parting- and the man whom Y/N wanted to tell the same to.

It came from a bit far ahead- nearer to the mouth of the brook, where it was more a stream.

Y/N’s eyesight wasn’t the best, but the hearing was- and Philip, Edmund’s horse, had a very loud voice.

“Your Majesty.” The sienna-hued horse’s voice spoke. “Why not a bathe?”

“It’s only half a day to Cair.” Came another voice, and Y/N’s heart soared so high an attack of dizziness came. “I’ll bathe there- and it won’t do to dirty such a clean, pure stream.”

“Edmund!” Y/N shouted, almost falling off the horse.

Climbing properly off her, Y/N ran towards the sounds of the two voices.

”Edmund- Edmund-”

Edmund had his top-armour off, clad in a wet long-sleeved under-shirt, much like Y/N’s, and he had been washing his face and attempting to fill some water into his flash, even though he’d cracked it and water poured out more than it poured in.

At the sound of his consort’s voice, he dropped the flask again, and turned quickly- in alarm and quite a bit of hope.

Y/N flew at him, and they collided together, falling down onto the grass. Their arms stayed around each other, and Edmund kept calling Y/N’s name and Y/N kept calling Edmund’s, though they were clasped tight together, and neither cared that they’d landed half in the water, too.

“You’re here!” Y/N spoke into Edmund’s shoulder, clutching him tight. “What are- how- this isn’t your route-”

“Had to check on the Woods.” Edmund answered, kissing his consort’s cheek.

He was on top, and there was a grin on Y/N's face at the position, and he felt himself blush.

“You’ve been to guide your armies back to Y/C/N, yes? I thought you’d stay home for a few weeks- to rest.”

“I wanted to.” Y/N admitted- as absolutely lovely and beloved as Narnia was, there was no place like home. “But I- I had something to do in Narnia.”

Here, Philip interjected, “Good to see you again, Your Majesty!”

Y/N waved happily at the sarcastic horse, before looking back at Edmund, who was looking curious as he asked, “Official work?”

“Well.” Y/N said, and rolled them around so that their positions revered and Edmund was under. “I had to make a declaration.”

Y/N’s heart was shaking. And there were palpitations. And anxiety. A lot of anxiety. And nerves. And nausea, if one squinted.

But so much love. So much of it. It overwhelmed all else.

“What?”

His question was ignored, and Y/N went on, “And before that, I had to suggest a date idea.”

And then they kissed, beginning too soft and careful- for neither was aware of the other’s injuries- and then ending with gasps and even tighter grips on each other.

Oh, how they wanted to peel off the remaining armour and the wet tunics and make love then and there, having missed each other so painfully much- but Philip was there. They didn’t want to scar him for life- more than they already had. The poor horse had been an unwitting witness to more than one ardent snogging sessions between the two Monarchs- and, in some of those sessions, they had not been very clothed.

It haunted Philip’s nightmares, but it also gave him a lot of material to tease his rider about.

“Was that the idea?” Edmund asked hoarsely, his hand curling into his consort’s hair. He wanted to say those three words again- so, so badly. “A kissing date?”

Y/N’s swollen lips curved into a smile, “Do you mind it?”

“Not at all.” He said, thinking that all the date ideas he had had might have already been beaten- before asking, “But what’s the declaration? If it’s got paperwork, I’ll have to handle it, you know.”

He was very tired. Fighting battles was difficult. Whatever it was, he wanted to get the work done as soon as possible.

“It is a declaration to the Just King. To my darling husband.” Y/N whispered.

Oh, how could a heart possibly feel like it was creeping so high into a throat!? The anxiety was getting unbearable. It was only Edmund’s proximity and his beautiful, dark eyes gazing into Y/N’s that kept an anxiety attack at bay.

“I declare that I am absolutely and besottedly in love with you.”

“Oh.” Well, he certainly didn’t want that over with as soon as possible.

Never, in fact. He wanted it to last forever.

He smiled again, his heart aglow and both their eyes shining, and they pressed their foreheads against each other’s.

“I love you. I love you so much.”

It was the best date ever.

Vow Renewal Dates

A vow renewal ceremony is not a date, Susan tells her brother and sister-in-law repeatedly- but as far as they’re concerned, that’s exactly what it is.

It takes in a lovely meadow of flowers, and they are together, looking radiant and lovely as they gaze at each other- and they hold hands through it all. They tell each other how much they loved each other, and they promise once again to forever be by each other’s side and be joined in the bond of marriage forevermore.

Well, dates usually didn’t have parents and siblings around, but one couldn’t have everything.

They are in love, though. A love they hope would last forever, and if there’s something after that, then even then.

And it may not be everything- but it certainly does feel like it.

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Thank you for reading!

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#narnia #the chronicles of narnia #edmund pevensie #edmund pevensie x reader #king edmund the just #edmund pevensie imagines #skandar keynes #narnia fanfiction #edmund pevensie fanfiction #skandar keynes fanfiction #skandar keynes x reader #edmund pevensie fanfic #arranged marriage #arranged marriage au #request #fic #oneshot #tcon #lww #edmund pevensie fic #edmund x reader #cs lewis

[snowbellewells]

CSSNS23 One Shot: “Deluge”

My first entry for this year’s @cssns23 event is a one shot based on a prompt I saw on Tumblr some years ago. A cloaked person breaks into the bookshop where the protagonist works. His glowing eyes transfix her as he grabs her wrist, baring hidden symbols on the protagonist’s arm and proclaiming, “It’s you.”          (I would love to give credit to the original poster of the prompt, but I do not remember the user’s name. Whoever you were, if you see this, THANK YOU for the inspiration!)

I’m also incredibly grateful for @xarandomdreamx for her wonderfully encouraging and astute beta work, and to @eastwesthomeisbest for the TWO stunningly gorgeous pieces of story art she created for this. I love looking at both of them, and have posted one here at the start, and one in the text where the scene occurs, so you all can enjoy them both too. Thanks again to both of you lovely shipmates!!!

Summary: From the moment the cloaked stranger stepped through the door, Emma Swan's life was forever changed. She could never have imagined how much though, and that she would never want to return to the way things were before...

(This can also be found on AO3, if that is your reading preference...)

Rain poured down, beating on the roof overhead and sluicing across the windowpanes, blearing the world outside as she squinted to peer through. All day long it had been quiet and gray, the impending storm threatening to keep anyone from entering the tiny, overstuffed shop. However, despite the boredom, Emma Swan found herself still lingering past closing time, hardly anxious to brave the wind and rain that had at last been loosed outdoors.

Besides, the uninhabited silence was far from unusual; Emma spent most of her work days dusting, sweeping and tidying the stacks and shelves of the pawn shop’s open design and ostentatious displays, with little to no interruption or interaction at all.�� Waiting on company, from either rare customers or the proprietor himself was fruitless for the most part, so thankfully she’d never minded largely being left to her own devices, not having to bother with small talk. 

She had locked the entrance door and flipped the sign from ‘open’ to ‘closed’ some time ago, dimming the lights as well, so that any curious passerby who might see her finishing up her tasks wouldn’t assume it meant they were welcome to shop late. With her gaze falling idly back to her hand swiping the dustcloth back and forth on the counter near the cash register, Emma sighed hoping the rain wouldn’t keep her there all night. Mr. Gold, the owner, with his superior attitude, three piece suits, and gold-topped cane, did not stop to check in often, but he wanted things tidy and precisely as he wished when he did so, and so she’d kept busy until the place shone.. 

From the beginning of her employment, Emma had easily sensed that the man did not run his odd little emporium for needed income; however, what she was still puzzling over some months later, was what his purpose might be instead. Nevertheless, she kept things organized and neat, and herself well aware of each item’s place, if not its purpose, whether or not it was necessary, as those who entered seemed to come already knowing what they sought. Even rarer, she turned a carefully blind eye when particular souls came desperately seeking Gold himself for something which could not be bought in stores - at which requests the man always managed to preternaturally appear.

It was strange. She wouldn’t even try to deny it. But she had felt open and exposed, on the run, for too long, and she liked the off-putting impenetrable feeling of the crammed corner shop. It felt hidden, safely ensconced and forgotten, unseen. Yes, when the gentleman himself slowly and deliberately limped in, his shrewd eyes seeing everything, he did make her more than a bit uneasy. Her skin crawled beneath the long sleeves she couldn’t help tugging at to cover her skin, if his keen stare focused on her for too long. 

Still, she needed a job, and it paid well without demanding much of her. Not that she was without ambition either, but she’d had too much drifting and uncertainty in life thus far to walk away from something at least partially stable too quickly. Beyond all that, in the oddest of all ways, the things and their troubling owner, as well as the shop itself, needed her to keep watch; she felt it down to her bones.

Having finished dusting and re-alphabetizing the rare and limited edition tomes displayed in their prime location along the wall behind the counter, and with only a few lights left to douse before she had to leave and brave the stormy conditions, Emma ran her fingers rather proudly over the leatherbound and gilt-edged spines she had lined up precisely to beckon the right customers, who would know what was within their reach. As silly as it felt to care for a hodge podge of antiques, collectibles, and curiosities on a narrow, forgotten city street, she couldn’t help the pleased warmth in her chest for a moment at the sight of a job well done.

So she startled when the little bell over the door jangled with someone’s abrupt entrance, blown in with the swirl of wind and raindrops that slammed the door closed in a resounding snap behind them. Spinning on her heel quickly, and with a startled gasp she couldn’t quite restrain, Emma’s nerves jangled with alarm and awareness in equal measure at the tall form standing just inside the door, shrouded almost completely in a dripping dark green cloak. Unmoving, unspeaking, and yet holding every ounce of her attention, the being stood panting and facing her as drops of rainwater falling onto the floor made the only sound.

Her momentary fear tossed aside, Emma straightened her spine, eyes burning as she faced the intruder. She could have sworn she’d locked the door as well as moving the sign to closed, even if he had ignored honoring the common courtesy of business hours. Wary but determined, she moved carefully to the end of the counter, moving to step out from behind it and see that this trespasser moved on. She wasn’t foolhardy either though, and she held a pewter candlestick behind her back that she had picked up unseen and would not hesitate to use if the need called for it.

“I’m afraid we’re closed for the day,” she stated plainly, even if it was more of a hoarse croak than the automatic statement she’d aimed for. “You’ll have to come back during normal business hours.” Something crackled in the air between herself and the still-silent interloper, as she came to stand just a few feet before…him.

Oh, she could tell that it was a man standing before her now; that much was certain. As she’d drawn closer, she could glimpse a strong, dark-stubbled jawline partially bared by the hood haphazardly draped over his head. The large hands fisting and unclenching repeatedly at his sides, as they worked to forestall some tension, were unmistakably masculine as well.

Yet, settled as she was that it was not some unearthly monster standing before her, it did not keep her from stumbling backwards into one of the numerous bookshelves with a cry of alarm when he lurched forward toward her, grasping her wrists in a strong, inescapable grip and choking out, “Is it really you?” His voice was rough like metal being raked over gravel in its intensity. “After all this time…”

It was then that the hood fell back, exposing his full visage to her and nearly stopping her breath. There was no other possible reaction; the man before her was stunning.

Tilting her head back slightly to take him in, her eyes trailed from the disheveled dark hair standing up from his head wildly, to the thick, strong brows near black as ravens’ wings, the proud broad shoulders and lean frame practically vibrating with some energy she couldn't quite grasp, back up to the startlingly deep faceted blue eyes, glowing like twin diamonds.

Wait, no - glowing?!? Emma shook her head, disbelieving her own sight as her mouth fell open and she involuntarily tried to take another step back. There was no denying the proof in front of her. Unblinking, his eyes glowed with an unearthly light, near mesmerizing her with the effect.

As he’d swooped forward, trapping her in his grasp, Emma let out a strangled gasp. The press of his body against hers, had her coming to rest heavily against the end of one of the long bookshelves; the heavy candlestick she had hoped to use against him fell nervelessly from her fingers to the carpeted floor.

Wide and frightened, she felt as though her own eyes might pop out of her head, but she forced herself to raise them and meet his implacable stare, trying to appear unafraid, despite trembling in every limb. Clenching her jaw with resolve, Emma willed herself not to wither at his close proximity and obvious strength. Fruitlessly she tried to push him back, only to find it impossible. In truth, she hardly wanted to. It was an instinctive reaction, but as the tall frame somehow pressed closer still, his height looming over her in a way that overwhelmed but warmed her deliciously, her nerve endings tingled. Possessive or protective, Emma wasn't sure which, but she could not truly pull away, shivering as the stranger continued to stare down at her - blue eyes seeming to penetrate beneath the surface of her soul.

Shaking her head, Emma struggled to put the questions flying through her head into words, but nothing came.  The sound died in her throat with a pitiful squeak she shuddered to recognize as her own. What was happening to her? Who was this man, and what did he think he was doing? As if forgetting that she was pinned between his frame and the solid barrier behind her, Emma once again attempted to step away, to gain some distance, only to be brought up short.

The man still held her wrist circled in his grip like an iron band. Her mouth went dry as he pulled it forward and shoved back the sleeve she always kept pulled down to her wrist before she could even attempt to stop him. Wordlessly, he stared at the skin he had exposed, his focus narrowing, even as she shook in fear. Her awareness was like a shock of electricity at the feel of another’s eyes on the bared skin she had hidden for so long.

This time it was the mysterious interloper who drew in the sharp breath, stunned and unsure, frozen for a second at the impact of his discovery. Emma’s eyes fell to take in the oddly beautiful markings that stole across her skin, up from the pulse at her wrist to just past the bend of her elbow, scrolling and twisting, curled around her forearm and each other like intricately inked tattoos in a pearlescent, unearthly jade. She hadn’t sought them out though; the markings had been a part of her for as long as she could remember. And though Emma felt connected to them, found them pleasantly comforting, she had learned long ago to keep them from sight. Others were troubled by them - confused, concerned, frightened or disgusted; none of the reactions she had seen were pleasant. It was easier to avoid their detection altogether, though it meant shrouding a piece of herself.

But the look in his disturbingly captivating orbs reflected none of those expected responses. He appeared almost entranced, as if he would brush each whorl of color with feather-light lips if she allowed it. It was a strange thing to think, and yet she knew it with unmistakable clarity; despite how intimate and gentle the action would be from someone so abrupt and unexpected - a complete stranger so far - she could see it in her mind’s eye.

“It really is you,” he breathed, reverent low voice whispering in her ear almost musically. “After all this time…Emma. I’ve found you at last.”

Her brow crinkled immediately, and her pulse kicked back up at the inexplicable familiarity. In her consternation, her words found a sharp voice. “What?!? Who are you? And how do you know my name? What are you talking about, ‘found me’? I’ve never met you!”

Standing up to his full height, Emma was stricken by the infinite sadness in this stranger’s deep gaze as he looked down into her face. Gently, he shook his head from side to side, and his next words escaped in a longing whisper, “Ah Lass, but you have…”

Opening her mouth to argue, Emma shook her head uncomprehendingly. Though he had released his grip and retreated a step to give her room to breathe, her visitor continued before she could interrupt.

“You do know me, Emma. You simply cannot remember.” He paused, seemingly trying to gather himself, swallowing hard and cheeks flushing a red that spread even up to the tops of his ears, which she realized were uniquely pointed where they peeked from his mussed dark hair. “This will sound like a made-up tale, but I have sought you for so long. You have been alone, and you deserve to know why.”

Emma’s eyes narrowed, focusing  on his handsomely shadowed face. She prided herself on being able to read others well - to see their truth or their lies in their bearing or their expressions beyond the words they spoke. And she sensed nothing but honest sincerity in this man, making what he said next all the more staggering.

“I am Killian Jones, Captain of the Guard of the high fae court of these lands. You are fae as well, Emma, born to our people in the forests near here. You were left as what is called a changeling, with a human caretaker, when you were a mere few hours old. It happens often among our kind,” he hurried to add, seeing the shocked and hurt expression on her face. His hand rose yet again, as if to forestall anger or tears, even if she couldn’t yet believe any of his nonsensical words. She knew she had never quite fit, never known her family, but to claim she was of another species entirely?

Finally, she had to break in, catching his hand and jerking it toward her, forcing him to feel her seriousness. “K-Killian, is it?”  She spoke hesitantly, though she felt quite certain she would never forget the name he had offered in that voice, or the look in his eyes, as long as she lived. “You can’t mean any of this. It’s insanity! Why would I believe you?”

Killian’s eyes fell to the floor, dropping contact with hers so completely that she felt the loss like a chill through her insides. He sighed again, the sound forced from his lungs. When he spoke, his words were the barest murmur, melancholy and pained. He raked a hand through the fringe falling over his forehead, but was gentle when he took her wrist once more, turning her hand palm up and carefully inching back the long sleeve which had fallen back down to cover her skin.

“You do not have to believe me. I realize, as I have said, that this all sounds far fetched. But I also think that, deep inside yourself, you know I’m right, that something has always been different about you, setting you apart. This is why.”

Those mesmerizing blue pools rose to envelope her again, and he seemed willing to wait for her signal, her permission to go on.

It was only once she gathered a shaky breath and gave a short nod of acquiescence that he continued. “You see,” Killian intoned, the cadence becoming a soothing lilt the longer she listened to him speak, her eyelids fluttering as he lightly traced the loops and swirls along her forearm, dancing over the veins and nerve endings in a sweet caress. “I was the one to place you in the human home. The woman and man who lived there were poorly matched. He did not care for her as much as for his own pursuits, though she had not yet seen the extent of the dark shadow in his heart. She loved books and learning and wished desperately for a child to care for, to share all her stories with and bestow her love upon. But she could not conceive. We knew she was aware of the legends and lore and would understand the gift you were, as our people often seek to leave fairy infants with humans for a time. The child is cosseted and cared for, and we return for them when they are able to live and move about the forest as the rest of us do.”

Biting her tongue, Emma forced herself not to interrupt with questions. She had always carried only vague memories of her earliest years - jumbled and impossible to put together in any kind of order. Just as she could sense he spoke the truth, she felt she was finally on the cusp of having answers, as wild and outlandish as they might appear. The story was about to take a turn, and she waited anxiously for it.

“You were placed in the home of this strange spinner and his beautiful young wife. And though he had no true interest in you, she loved you dearly. It had been my duty to choose the home, and it seemed, in watching from a distance, that all was proceeding as it should. She carried you with her wherever she went, whatever the chore, hardly letting you leave her side for a moment. Her happiness was complete in at last having a child on whom to shower her affection, even knowing she would not have her little one forever. Unfortunately, none of us realized… and I… I failed to see… the folly that was coming.”

With the cloud that passed over his sculpted features, Emma suddenly grasped the truly ethereal beauty he possessed. It would only make sense if he were not a mere mortal man. His troubled visage made her wish to comfort him, to assuage some of his clearly felt guilt. She almost told him he did not have to keep speaking, but she needed to hear the rest.

“There was an uprising. Another group of our kind, from another realm, twisted and changed by greed and thirst for power, attempted to overrun us and take our kingdom as their own. The conflict was long and bitter, and though we prevailed, fought them off, and send them back from whence they came, many good and powerful fae were lost. There was much damage and confusion. When things were at last put to rights once more, and I resumed my patrols, it was discovered that the old spinner had at last let his baser nature, his desire for strength and influence, overwhelm him. His dear wife had finally come to understand his nature and had fled from him, taking you with her. Observation told us that her former mate had gained some manner of dark magic of his own, and that he had learned of the changeling who had dwelt beneath his roof. Hurt and angry, and vengeful to a fault, he used all the means he had to seek his poor spouse - no woman should leave him as she had, he reckoned - and you… He became convinced you were the key to holding yet more magic and power in his grasp. Though we continued to keep an eye on the old scoundrel, his former wife and the fae child with her - you, Emma - seemed to have vanished without a single sign. Until you came to our attention, only recently, here in this shop. And… I had to see for myself.”

Emma felt her heart thudding in her chest so strongly that it seemed to slam against her throat, climbing up to pound and echo in her ears and blur her vision. She shook her head mutely as tears clouded her eyes. She didn’t want to fall for any of this, and yet somehow her heart recognized it as the truth. Though she couldn’t remember it all, she remembered glimpses of being rocked and held by a crackling fire, an unusual accent that she’d never heard since telling her tales in the sunlight and summer breeze. Had she possessed a mother after all? One she just couldn’t recall? Why else could she not summon anything before coming to this town some few years ago and scraping by on the streets as a pickpocket until she was old enough to seek honest employment?

Blinking the tears away, Emma looked down, only to suck in a rasp of breath in shock. The ink along her arm, that had always seemed a dark, marring emblem to keep covered and unseen, now shone with an ethereal light under Killian’s fingers. Transfixed, Emma reached out to touch the suddenly glowing marks for herself, finding the skin slightly warm, but otherwise just as it had always felt. Meeting the open, welcoming gaze of Killian Jones once more, she wasn’t sure how to respond, what question to ask first, utterly flabbergasted and overwhelmed. She honestly tried not to hold the bit of knowing swagger on his face against him, particularly when he smiled again through the pained regret which had radiated from him as he told the tale. True, he must have known her arm would light up with its strange insignia, but he had tried to prepare her and keep it as the last proof to make her see that what he told her was true.

“They’re runes, Lass. Fae symbols unique to each of us, identifying us to one another when words are not possible - or in cases such as yours when all else has been forgotten.”

Gulping down the lump in her throat, Emma aimed for gentle teasing, though the rasp of her words made them sound less playful than intended. “Cases like mine? I hope it doesn’t happen very often!”

Immediately, a furrow of worry puckered the skin between his brows, and that clear guilt and self-recrimination passed back over Killian’s face. Nodding to her in quick deference, he murmured, “Of course, right you are. I only meant… they are another way to bring a fae’s true nature to light, when all else fails…”

Releasing her arm, he turned to face the darkened street through the window outside. Emma got the definite sense he was ashamed to meet her eyes now, as if he deemed her more angry than she actually was. She was confused, surprised, uncertain, but not as upset as one might expect. She had been helpless to put the fragmented bits of memory together until he came. Her past had always been a mystery to her; who she was, where she’d come from, and where she belonged, was always a shrouded blank that she had no way of bringing into focus. It had felt as though something was missing, and now she knew why. Relief and knowledge were both coursing through her with a rush she could barely contain.

She didn’t want him to blame himself or to mourn what was long past, and before she could second guess or pull back, Emma had closed the space between them once more, laying a hand on his shoulder in a gesture she hoped would bring comfort. “Why are you taking all the blame?” she asked carefully, causing him to twist quickly, eyes full of surprise at her calm curiosity instead of harsh accusation. “The little I remember of who must have been the young woman you left me with is pleasant. I don’t know what happened to separate us, but it would seem you chose well. You couldn’t have predicted what would follow.”

Shaking his head adamantly, as if warding off her attempt to free him from responsibility, his broad shoulders rose and fell heavily while he heaved out a ragged breath. “Don’t you understand?” he ground out at long last. “I failed you. I was meant to be your guard. I was appointed to bring you back into the fold when the time came. Instead I - I lost you, and you were cut off in the world. Without your people, your heritage, any idea of who you were and what you could do. You should hate me, Emma. You have every right, and I would not blame you… I already blame myself.”

This time, when he finally turned to face her, Emma could see the moisture he would not allow to fall clouding the brilliance of his seaswept eyes. His jaw was clenched so tightly she could feel the muscle working in his cheek; his conflict so obvious she was powerless to do anything other than lift her hand to stroke her fingers along the spot, anxious and needing to ease the ache. “But don’t you see?” she rejoined in equally fervent tones. “Now I know… after feeling so alone, so blank and lost, I finally see why. It isn’t just that I’m strange and unwanted; I belonged somewhere else. All this time, I was not nothing. I was never nothing. You’ve shown me that, and… while I may not understand everything yet,” she blushed, and let her gaze fall slightly to where his chest rose and fell erratically, and her other hand now toyed idly with the open collar of the tunic beneath his cloak, drawn by the warmth radiating from him despite the cool evening air around him and the lingering dampness of his clothes from the storm outside.

Killian trembled beneath her touch, eyes falling closed, attempting to hold himself back. Then, as if snapping free of the self-imposed restraint, his dark lashes flicked up, baring her to his stare once more, and he turned his head to press full, tender lips to the inside of her wrist, over the strange tattoo that had fascinated and puzzled Emma all her life. The runes, as Killian had called them, seemed to flare to an even brighter life at his touch, and she held her breath, struck by how good it felt, giving herself over to his reverent ministration.

Murmuring against her sensitized flesh, he assured her, “Of course you are not nothing. You have always been something special. Always.”

A moan of pleasure left her throat at that; his lips and his words both a long-needed balm to her heart and a heady pleasure that rushed through like a tidal wave. Pressing nearer to his solid frame, she suddenly felt as if she could not get close enough. Not unless she burrowed inside him and under his skin.

She was only momentarily surprised, and thoroughly pleased, when he flipped their positions, this time bracing her between the counter and himself and bending her back over the surface with the strength and passion of his kisses, moving from her arm and up her neck to claim her mouth ravenously. Emma had never felt such a thrill of connection to anything or anyone in her life, nothing even came close enough to compare to the tendrils of awareness mapping throughout her insides and setting her alight to a degree she had not known was possible until that moment.

Keening low in her throat, not caring how desperate it might sound, she grappled with clutching fingers to pull him closer still, to rise on the very tips of her toes, and bring her face on a level with Killian’s, aching almost to drink him in through hungry lips and be merged as one. His breath was warm on her throat as an answering chuckle huffed out of him on an unsteady gasp. Both of them were panting when the kiss broke, their foreheads resting together as each of them attempted to draw in needed air, eyes dancing with pleased mischief and happy discovery.

Her eyes followed every tiny movement he made, as Killian’s sweeping gaze raked heat along her body from the top of her head all the way down to her feet. When his tongue flicked out to trail along his lower lip enticingly, Emma felt her own copy the gesture, anxious to taste him again, and allow him to once more taste her. “What say you, Emma?” he pressed avidly, “Shall we sail away from here?”

And indeed they did. The one good thing perhaps to how long she had spent adrift  was how little it took to be ready to go with him. She traveled light and had never collected many possessions she would truly miss. The offered hand and hope for answers, for companionship, for a future and a home, were enough to seal her decision well beyond any hesitation she might have harbored.

Stealing away that very night, her cryptic employer found no trace of her upon entering his shop the following morning. He’d had his suspicions of just who and what this Emma Swan he had hired might be. He had intended to lurk stealthily, watching and waiting to see if she was indeed as powerful as he suspected and how he might make use of that power. Once he had ascertained what he needed, Gold had hoped to keep her there, adding her into his collection like another of the rare trinkets in the shop she tended, a boon to be possessed. That she might well be the child his younger wife had doted on and adored so many years ago gave him not a moment’s pause. He had long believed the infant to be the reason his Belle had finally left him and so sealed her tragic fate. If this Emma were indeed that babe grown, it gave him all the more reason to see her put under glass, where her beauty and strength could benefit his aims, but do him no harm.

That she had slipped through his fingers and escaped without a trace - and taken some of his most potent, and therefore most valuable, wares in her flight - drove him to smash his shop almost to pieces in a fit of rage and tormented him the rest of his miserable long life.

But Emma at long last was free and at peace. Once she and Killian crossed the borders of that small village and passed into the deep, surrounding woods, a weight lifted from her shoulders, lightness suffusing her being in a way she had never before experienced. The scales fell from her eyes, at last allowing her to fully see the beauty of this place which had been just beyond her reach all the time.

Every cell in her body seemed to tingle. She was lit from within and fully alive. Killian beside her smiled knowingly at her expression, understanding just how she felt. Perhaps he did, to some degree. How long had he spent searching for her? Blaming himself for her loss and missing some piece of himself as well? He had always been meant to be her protector, and now at long last he had guided her back to her people, her place in the world.

When she turned to look up at him beneath the branches overhead and with fireflies just beginning to light the air in bright pinpricks around them, he took Emma’s breath away with his tender eyes and gentle touch. With the way he gazed at her, she knew as he leaned closer that the kiss he was about to bestow would be different from their previous ones - soft and lingering, but no less astounding in its effect.

The sensuous warmth in his touch and the feel of his lips on hers swept Emma up in sensations she never wished to escape; she wanted to wrap Killian around her and never let go, savoring every moment. Humming into his kiss, she placed both hands on his cheeks, caressing his face before teasing over the pointed tips of his ears and threading into the dark hair at the nape of his neck, anchoring herself to him. She knew there was so much more to learn and to see about this place - her birthright - and this man before her, but she couldn’t wait to tackle it,  anxious for what lay ahead as she had never been before. She wasn’t about to let go; she would hold onto this chance - and Killian Jones - with both hands and every breath that was in her. Emma had finally found the love, the home, she had always missed, and she wasn’t about to leave it again.

Tagging a few who might enjoy: @searchingwardrobes @jennjenn615 @kmomof4 @laschatzi @whimsicallyenchantedrose @jrob64 @apiratewhopines @spartanguard @therooksshiningknight @optomisticgirl @tiganasummertree @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @stahlop @winterbaby89 @hollyethecurious @sotangledupinit @justanother-unluckysoul @darkcolinodonorgasm @the-darkdragonfly @elizabeethan @donteattheappleshook @drowned-dreamer @xsajx @jonesfandomfanatic @motherkatereloyshipper @zaharadessert @bdevereaux​ @caught-in-the-filter​ @xarandomdreamx​ @eastwesthomeisbest​ @goforlaunchcee​ 

#cssns23 #cs oneshot #Fae cs au #deluge #changeling au fic

[booksteaandtoomuchtv]

CS Sleepy Prompt One-Shots (5/?): “Go Rest. I'll take care of this."

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FOUR | A03

Since the sun had set on Captain Liam Jones, his successor had made a point of rising before the sun. Most mornings were spent pleading with the sea to swallow him and correct the wrong that had occurred when the wrong brother was claimed by Death. But, there were some mornings in which he’d feel this odd sensation that he was meant for more, there was a reason he’d been spared, and he merely needed to hang in a bit longer and everything he’d been through would be worth the treasure he was headed toward.

When Milah entered his life, he’d thought their love was the end of his hunt. She had been killed for her love for him by a petty ex-lover. The crocodile crushed her heart and shattered his in one swift movement. Endless mornings followed in which the darkness was filled with fantasies of revenge - if he were forced to survive after his love and heart had been lost, then he would dedicate what was left of it to destroying the bloody beast who had taken them.

This morning was far from those. Today. exhaustion weighed him down and he groaned as he pushed off the bed. A demand for warm milk had turned into a chant taken up by two little voices that seemed to echo throughout the house, perhaps the neighbourhood.

The mound of blankets taking up the other half of his bed released a sound that might have been a grunt or perhaps a word. Whatever the sound was meant to be, Killian could hear in it fatigue that matched his own. Something in their shared struggle gave him the strength to rise and face the chaos he knew would be waiting for him.

A small smile pulled at his lips as he leaned in to kiss the wild mane of blonde hair poking out from the cocoon of blankets, “Rest, love. I’ll take care of this.”

“Five minutes,” Emma muttered back, her voice already thick with sleep.

Killian shook his head as he left the dark room, closing the door behind him. His wife would sleep another few hours after the night they had last night. Hope had woken up several times with coughing fits that seemed too big for her tiny body. Each time she woke up, Maren followed shortly after, having crawled into bed with her big sister earlier in the evening. They would battle with the stubborn four-year-old to take the bright blue liquid that would resolve her coughing fits and cut the fever that she hadn’t been able to shake and then have to soothe her sister back to bed. Almost an hour after Hope’s heart-breaking coughs woke them, Emma and Killian would crawl back into their bed. Killian would drift off quickly, having learned to catch rest whenever he had the opportunity. But Emma would toss and turn, finally drifting to sleep mere moments before the next wake-up would occur.

“WARM MILK! WARM MILK!” The chants continued as he stepped into the room where both girls were wide awake and bouncing around despite the early hour. He leaned against the door, his legs and arms crossed as he watched them in amazement. Both girls were sniffly, coughing messes and they were still full of energy and giggles.

“DADDY!!!!!!” Maren yelled, wiggling off the bed over her sister and running toward him with her arms wide open. Killian swept her up onto his hip, “I want warm milk,” she demanded in greeting.

“I’ll help! I am good at helping.”

“Alright, little loves. We have to be quiet so we don’t wake Mummy.” Killian said, his voice a whisper.

“WE’RE SO GOOD AT BEING QUIET, RIGHT DADDY?” Hope said excitedly as they passed the door behind which his wife slept.

Killian flinched at her unexpected volume. “Yes, you are both so good at keeping quiet. We need to stay quiet just a bit longer,” he answered in a whisper.

“Do we have to be quiet downstairs?”

“No, love.”

“Why? We will wake up mummy if we are loud.”

“The kitchen is far from our room. Mummy won’t be able to hear us, so we can be loud once we are there.”

Hope was quiet for a moment as they made their way down the stairs.

Once they stepped into the kitchen, Killian set Maren down to start preparations for breakfast. Hope took her sister’s hand in hers and led her deeper into the room, “Mary, we can talk now because Mummy can’t hear us, so we can’t wake her up.”

Maren, who had stayed quiet since issuing her initial command, nodded seriously at her sister’s words. The curls in her blonde hair bobbed with the motion.

“Do you want to colour?”

“Mhmm.” Maren climbed into a chair as Hope pulled out some crayons and paper for them both.

Killian stalled in his preparations and watched as they sat together chatting away about their drawings. He soaked up this moment, saving it for when they started yelling about their toys and favourite cups and which one touched the other one first later today. But this moment, just as the sun started to stretch its first rays over the horizon, was the treasure he'd spent his lifetime seeking.

#CS ONESHOT #ouat #killian jones #captain swan #emma swan #once upon a time #killian x emma #captain hook #cs fanfic #cs ff #mostly a Dad!Killian fic #Dad!Killian #I am not really sure what happened to this one #but I wrote a thing #yay!

[elytrafemme]

also just remembered that i have like, at least 3 fics that im planning to write once i finish CS in that universe which i had forgotten about? because for a while i was planning on like, just finishing CS and then moving on to other fandom content, but CS barely feels like fandom content anymore its just my little guys so. i think i finish the main fic and then i go into like, writing other fandom stuff and then also CS oneshots

#nightmare.cough-syrup #because I'm doing a fic with cs!Wilbur and cs!Techno still #and then I have the fun halloween oneshot #and then i think I wanted to do something involving their futures but I haven't thought it out a ton #i might drop that its more that i just have a lot of thoughts about what happens post CS so #at some point i might go into it or i could just talk about it here when alls said and done

[sunstormrecs]

ship Lee Felix/Seo Changbin

tags Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Canon Compliant, Getting Back Together, Body Worship, RIP seo changbin's t-shirts, seo changbin is hot did you know?, felix is going through it, Massage, Kissing, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, Oral Sex

summary   Felix swallows another wave of guilt as he nods down at where Changbin's still rubbing his own neck. It's a bad idea, obviously. There's a reason he's been avoiding putting his hands on Changbin, but it's late and he's too tired to argue with the devil sitting on his shoulder.

And Changbin is hurting.

Or: Changbin needs a massage and Felix, against his better judgement, provides his services. Feelings ensue, and not just the horny kind.

#thicc (with two cs) #rhythmsextion #skz #changlix #rated E #<10k #oneshot #fin #any fic about how hot changbin is is my favourite #delicious

[seriouslyhooked]

Enchanted

CS AU oneshot where Emma and Killian meet at a parent/teacher conference (Emma is a single mother and Killian is helping raise Liam’s daughter). Instalove and fluff ensues as they make the most of the moment and fall under each others spell. Available on FF Here and AO3 Here. 

A/N: Hello everyone, and welcome back to another installment of the Captain Swan Mixtape. I think about this series of oneshots all the time, and I have been hoping to get to that amazing and hard to fathom milestone of 200 chapters forever. At long last, I have the path in mind, beginning with this chapter. This song, ‘Enchanted’ by Taylor Swift, was requested ages ago (literally years and years back), but I finally found an idea to go with it, and I’ve run with it as best I can. I would have loved to make this a longer, more detailed story, but I hope you will all enjoy this meet cute and the fluff that ensues. Thank you all for reading, and let me know what you think!

I knew I should have taken a cab. Freaking train delays. I swear these lines get slower and slower every year. And now I’m late to school. God, why is that still so stressful?!

The thoughts clamored through Emma’s head as she made her way up the stairs at a midtown subway station. She was practically running, dodging New Yorkers and tourists alike to get out into the last of the daylight, but the damage was done. She was hopelessly and undeniably late. Still, she needed to try and make up some ground. The parent/teacher night at Misthaven Prep was starting in a matter of moments, and she was already bound to be the fixation of the evening. She hated to add ‘absent’ to the list of unkind descriptions all the busybody class moms had been creating for her. 

Through the grace of something like a guardian angel or fairy godmother, Emma made every other crossing light, hustling as fast as she could the last two blocks to Henry’s school. Any other day she’d be worried about her outfit. Dark wash jeans and her red leather jacket may be perfect for perp pick up, but they were not exactly the uniform of academy mothers. It had simply been one of those days though, and she was honestly lucky to get here at all. As it was, she had to miss dinner with her kid, something Emma truly cherished, and she was frustrated at the change in her itinerary even as her anxiety crept higher and higher.

When she rounded the corner and saw parents still filing in, Emma let out a sigh of relief. Thank God, she’d made it. Just barely, but she was here. She schooled her breathing, trying to calm the chaos of this early evening sprint, and made a bit of progress. That respite only lasted a few seconds though. As soon as she walked through the wrought iron gates and brick façade of the old, but pristinely kept academy, the whispers began.

“Oh, so she did come after all. Will wonders ever cease?”

“But look what she’s wearing. Red leather? What kind of message does that send?”

“And jeans no less. Non-designer.”

“The woman wouldn’t know designer if it slapped her senseless.”

“Wait, are those… converse?”

“What in the world is a converse?”

“A tennis shoe. No – worse – a sneaker.”

That last revelation caused a certified twittering among the judgmental Moms behind Emma. As if anyone in the world, with money or not, was unaware of what a Converse was. That was a universal name, and she was pretty sure even celebrities deigned to wear them now and again. But these mothers were completely over the top and almost laughable in their disdain, trying to climb higher in their little social strata by putting her down on all levels. The constant insults thrown her way stung, but Emma tried her best to ignore them, crossing into the threshold of Ms. Blanchard’s classroom after wandering through the maze that was Henry’s elementary school.

Scanning the classroom for some sort of haven, Emma noted that there were seats to the side and in the middle. Excellent. The best place to fade into the background was off to the side. Despite the beliefs of many, the back of a room wasn’t the place to get lost, and the first time she’d chosen the back at Henry’s 3rd grade open house, the whispers continued. When Emma overcorrected for the 4th grade showing and sat in the front, she was expected to participate and her answers sparked more comments than they merited. Now, with Henry in 5th grade, her only hope was to shrug off her jacket and pray for mercy while claiming a seat to the side and in the center row. Thankfully, mercy came in the form of a petite woman with a dark brown pixie cut.

“Good evening parents, guardians, and distinguished guests. Welcome to Misthaven’s parent/teacher conference. I’m Mary Margaret Blanchard as you all know, and it’s been my absolute pleasure to teach your children so far this year.”

“Of course it’s a pleasure!” A voice screeched out, like nails on a chalkboard, and terribly timed. Mary Margaret had only just begun her welcome, but it didn’t matter to this self-absorbed socialite. “My Bartholomew is a prodigy and a predetermined master of many things.”

Emma bit her lip to keep from laughing and fought valiantly to ward off an eye roll. The ‘prodigy’ in question, aside from having a laughable name in the modern era, was also the son of one of most annoying women alive. Zelena Gold thought the sun rose and set in deference to her and her wealthy family. Her own lineage was of questionable origins. She was ‘descended of some of the world’s most remarkable people.’ And that wasn’t paraphrasing, that was a direct quote Emma could recite from memory for how much she’d heard it. No telling if those people were royals or robber barons. Emma would guess they were run of the mill harpies, but she knew better than to say that.

Zelena’s husband, who notoriously went by only his last name, was seated beside her, glowering but dressed with precision and opulence in mind. Gold’s money came from nearly everything, and his reputation across the city stemmed from a reptilian coldness and calculated nature. It was clear he held no affection for his wife. Indeed, if he cared even remotely for his child it would be shocking. Like most of the men here, care for their sons was more about preparing an heir and securing a legacy than genuine love. It all gave Emma the creeps. How someone could have children and feel so little was beyond her, but she’d seen it over and over again. Hell, she’d been dropped off at a fire station without so much as a note as a baby. She was well versed in rejection and parental abandonment.  

“Our class is blessed with so many talented and intelligent students this year,” Ms. Blanchard replied with calm in the face of calamity. Henry always talked about how much he admired his teacher, but Emma could see why. She was handling the mess, but not debasing herself to do so. “And that actually brings us to some exciting news. The 5th grade learning modules are adding a new unit this year centered on being mindful citizens and caretakers. Research shows children who practice their empathy and giving to others when they are still young are much more likely to –,”

“More likely to waste their time working with no earnings of note or to form a tiresome save the world complex.”

Ah, Arthur King, new money millionaire, tech titan, and if Emma had to guess, B-list embezzler. She hadn’t done any actual research into that, but there were enough rumblings in her work and plenty of red flags just in King’s mannerisms for her to be on alert. She gave him five years, maybe ten, before the world came crashing in on him for some reason or other. Guys like him always had a monumental crash and burn moment.

“My son doesn’t need elementary empathy bootcamp, Ms. Blanchard. He needs order and routine. The only way he’ll take over King industries someday is if Malcolm learns a little discipline.”

“Misthaven blends the best of both, Mr. King, I assure you.”

Emma was impressed. Mary Margaret was firm but still polite enough to get away with it. Disagreeing, or even holding steady against people in this sphere was a dangerous game. Emma wondered if this world was familiar to Mary Margaret beyond teaching experience. It wasn’t easy managing people like this, and it seemed to take a lifetime of fancy lessons and feisty in-fighting to get a handle on the dos and donts of Manhattan’s elite.

“It better be the best for what we’re paying,” another woman said.

“Well, what some of us are paying.”

Emma didn’t look away from Mary Margaret, watching as Henry’s instructor let her mask slip, and a pronounced frown formed at her lips. Her eyes filled with concern and then a not so small amount of anger. The judgment in tone and the subtle way the snarky voice sounded towards her told Emma all she needed to know: this grouchy and gauche group was united in one thing, a deep disdain for students like her son.

Henry was actually a prodigy, testing at a remarkable percentile in math and reading while also taking to nearly everything else he tried with ease. He was the only 5th grader she knew with a command of piano, painting, and Plato. Seriously, her kid was reading Plato at 10, and Emma was just along for the ride. When the chance to come to Misthaven presented itself, she said yes, knowing Henry would be better served in a school with the most competitive academics. The downside was the closed-mindedness. So far it wasn’t an issue for Henry in the classroom. The kids were still kind at this age and he had a great teacher who had compassion and care. These parents though… they were ruthless and resentful.

Don’t let them see you sweat, Emma. They’re no better than you. You’re worth just as much as they are. You are enough. No one can take that from you.

It was painful that she’d had to resort to these affirmations, ones she learned at the instruction of the only caring case worker she’d ever had. They were the only words to get her through high school, and even they couldn’t keep her enrolled the whole time. She’d run away at 16, and only after having Henry did Emma finish her GED. She’d managed to earn her BA in forensic science last year as well, after working and trying to balance everything she could for Henry through the course of his young life. But these people didn’t care about how impossible that had seemed until it was done. If anything, majoring in a relevant discipline aimed at helping her ‘little detective business’ was something to be mocked and not encouraged.

While she silently counseled herself to stay strong, the door opened, completely rerouting the energy of the night. All eyes flew to whoever was brave enough to interrupt,  and Emma was caught immediately in the sight of the man before her. Wow, he was… well she didn’t really know how to phrase it. He was so…

“Sweet Lord in heaven, that man is the sweetest sight for the sorest eyes.”

The whispered words came from of the mothers behind her. It was completely out of the realm of speak for this group. This woman was southern, and her assessment didn’t blend so easily here, but Emma agreed with this southern transplant. She might not have said it quite like that, but to claim otherwise would be a lie. Handsome was putting it mildly. This man was gorgeous.

Dark features and deep blue eyes were the first things Emma noticed about him. The combo was known to be lethal, but this guy took it to a new level. It had been ages since a man made Emma feel anything more than mild interest, but this was instant and incandescent. Like lightning slicing through a first summer storm, crackling and tantalizing but dangerous too. The feeling was so sudden and compelling that it almost stole her breath. Her heart rate kicked up, her senses locked in, and though she never did this, she started to tune out her surroundings and focus solely on him. The rest of the world seemed of little importance in this moment. She was preoccupied with a man so hot it was sinful.

During her blatant perusal, Emma took in everything she could, and she was struck by his commanding presence without speaking a single word. Swagger was what people usually called it, but now she knew the word was overused. Emma was certain that a term like that was made for a man like this, who even in a moment of potential embarrassment was cool and collected. His body was fit, and his clothes made that as clear as possible. This was why people paid for custom suits. The classic charcoal gray garments were made for him, transforming that roughish and rough appeal that he’d no doubt always possess into something more presentable.

Emma pictured him at the end of a conference table, stories above the city, in one of the downtown skyscrapers. He’d fit there, exuding the command and power of a competent corporate captain, but then she had a flash of something else, an image of him in a more relaxed setting. Dark lighting but with a warm glow, hair mussed, eyes smiling. Casual and honest, transformed from who he was here to something even more tantalizing. She felt caught in the fantasy, wondering if there was more to this mysterious stranger. Then he spoke aloud, cutting through the tension.

“Apologies, lass. You must be Ms. Blanchard.”

Oh God that voice – that accent – this had to be a set-up of some kind, right? She almost searched around for hidden cameras, but that would have required looking away, and Emma wasn’t so sure that was possible. Like the rest of the room, she was caught up in the moment too tightly. She prided herself on calm and control. She could only hope the staring was coming across as mild interest and not something far more awkward.

“Oh, um, well, yes. I am… sorry, and you are?”

“Rather late, as it were. Continue, please.”

Dismissing the question about his identity, the man looked around the sea of chairs for an empty spot. Emma’s stomach flipped against her will. She knew the only remaining seat was the one beside her. His eyes scanned the crowd of self-absorbed parents until finding it. He made his way there. Emma watched as he took a seat, and she was stunned at his ability to look so good while perched in these silly school desks. She also noted his being here alone. Was he a single Dad? Or maybe part one of those families with multiple children across grades? Automatically she looked to his left hand. No ring. But that didn’t mean all that much in this city.

Focus, Emma. You’re not here to ogle. You’re here for Henry. Henry comes first. Always.

The thought pulled her back to attention. She looked to the front of the room and over to Mary Margaret. Most of the other parents had failed to do so yet, and Emma heard some whispers flitting through the room. Interesting. Whoever he was, it seemed his reputation preceded him. Unable to stop herself, she stole one more glance at the stranger, but this time he was looking at her, with that fire and emotion in his eyes she’d only just imagined. Emma was frozen, but not in fear, instead in fascination. For someone who she’d just clocked as in control and constantly cool, this man had changed direction. She could clearly see the effect she had on him. His expression spoke openly to his interest and attention. It was almost alarming how candid he was being, but all Emma felt was honesty. And heat. Definitely a scorching, raging inferno kind of heat.

“Have we met before, love?” he asked her, his voice a rumbled whisper meant only for her ears. She shivered, then prayed it wasn’t obvious.

“I don’t think so,” she replied, certain that there was no way she’d ever have forgotten a man like this. Still, Emma felt lucky to get anything coherent out at all when the general instinct she had around him was to be totally tongue-tied.

“It’s the strangest thing… I feel as if I know you, but you’re right. There’s no chance that I’d forget you,” he said, as if reading her mind. His eyes took in her features again, his gaze sparking new awareness and prompting swarms of long dormant butterflies to take flight through her chest. The blatant approval and consideration would usually be a turn off, but for the strangest reason, Emma was intrigued and desirous for more.

“Killian Jones,” he murmured before offering her his hand. She stared at him for a second, stunned at the formal greeting, but charmed all the same.

“Emma Swan.”

“Emma,” he murmured in reply, the rough tones of his voice washing over her as his thumb ran the softest trace against her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Is he seriously talking to that charity case?”

Zelena’s lack of manners could only be matched by the shrillness of her voice. It achieved it’s end goal, however, shattering the moment and causing Emma to retreat. She pulled her hand back from Killian, offering him an apologetic smile. His look was far darker, filled with anger on her behalf, and while Emma was touched, she shook her head slightly, trying to tell him it wasn’t worth it. Her gesture did the trick, and though he still seemed displeased, Killian sat back and offered only a cold look to Zelena and Gold. The latter actually had the sense to look shamed, and Emma was amazed to hear the man offer a mumbled request.

“Excuse my wife, Jones. She forgets herself.”

Stunned at her husband’s words, Zelena lost the ability to continue with her judgments aloud, and thankfully Mary Margaret took the opportunity to refocus. Emma shifted her attention to Henry’s teacher once more, grounding herself in the good of this situation. Despite hostility from other parents, her kid was going to get the best that any education system had to offer. She could only imagine how much he would learn, and she knew with his boundless curiosity there would always be more questions and queries.

Ms. Blanchard also clearly had the patience and temerity needed in a truly great teacher. When sharing the efforts of the students so far this term on a particular biology project, she gave great detail but also remained mindful of time. She then managed the question and answer portion of the night with an almost acrobatic skill, deflecting the ridiculous and circling back to the positives. Everything came back to the kids, and that told Emma that she’d made the right choice, no matter the hardships.

Soon enough the bell rang, signaling the end of the parent teacher session, and the start of the ‘tours and treats’ portion of the evening. The mothers who ran the school’s PTA treated this evening like a theme party, and Emma could only imagine what was in store. She stood, gathering her things but thought to herself about what to do next. 

Do I really need to go? I know I should, but…

“If it’s an out your seeking, Swan, I might have just the thing.”

Despite her pretense at being unaffected, Emma never lost track of Killian throughout the conference. Her constant awareness of him was undeniable, but so were the nerves that took hold with someone so attractive nearby. She’d been good at tamping down the need – yes, need – to look at him during the meeting, but now she was helpless to resist. She watched as the last few parents left the room, and then steeled herself for impact. Sure enough, when their eyes met, her heart skipped.

“Why am I not surprised you were the type to ditch class?” Emma asked, going on gut, since she still knew nothing about him. He laughed and she melted a little more, longing to linger in the delicious sound.

“Probably because you’re as bright as your boy. Henry, right?” Emma was shocked and then a bit on edge. How did he know her son? Sensing her discomfort, Killian answered freely. “My niece, Arabella, speaks of Henry often. Quite a pair they make. He appears to be the brains, and Bella the brawn.”

“I’m sorry?” Emma asked, confused on the teasing until she heard another laugh. They both looked to Mary Margaret who was still standing there.

“I hate to be that person eavesdropping. I know, seriously uncool, it’s just… well it’s very accurate. Henry’s the mastermind and Bella handles business.”

“Henry’s not in trouble, is he?” Emma asked, knowing deep down that her kid was better than that, but feeling the compulsion to check all the same.

“Oh no, quite the opposite,” Mary Margaret said, looking at the two of them before something sparked in her eyes and her smile grew wider. “I’m sure Mr. Jones is happy to elaborate. As for skipping out? Normally I advise against it. But in this case, it seems right to make an exception.”

Without another word, Mary Margaret left the room, headed to places unknown and Emma was stunned. Was Henry’s teacher trying to give them alone time? Like a set up? Oh Jesus. Could she handle that? The nerves came rushing back, but then Killian took her hand and all that energy flared to something new, something warm and brilliant and blissful. Just like before, her senses lit up, and her body filled with this aching sense of familiarity. Her heart pounded an unsteady rhythm, but her eyes glanced back at him, seeing the earnest desire shining in his bright blue eyes. Whatever was happening, he was with her in it, and clearly he was interested in seeing this through.

“What do you say, Swan? Do you trust me?”

……

“Do you trust me?”

The question may seem mild enough, but Killian knew, even from this most basic of introductions, that trust was a rare gift bestowed by Emma Swan. He couldn’t blame her, as he felt the same. The world was full of people who took advantage and played the game. They had motives centered in self-interest and many tried to hide that side of themselves until they’d taken you in and used you in ways you hadn’t expected. Knowing how many people had tried to take advantage of him over the years made belief in others often untenable. He had a handful of people he considered himself close with. His brother, Liam, his business partner, David, and his niece, Arabella rounded out the top of that list. That a girl of ten (even if she was going on thirty) was ranked so highly spoke loudly enough about his connectedness to others, but what could he say? He’d been burned before. Badly.

But Emma’s different. I know she is.

The thought flitted through his mind, mirroring the bevy of reflections he’d been processing since meeting her half an hour before. The last place he ever expected to be struck in love was a parent teacher conference, but Liam had begged him to attend in his stead, and Killian couldn’t refuse. Now he was more grateful than he could ever put into words. Never before had he been so glad to be driven to distraction.

Emma was a breath of fresh air and a vision amongst of sea of preening peacocks. With golden hair, jade-colored eyes, and a face and a figure that would haunt a man’s dreams, she was so far beyond stunning. But it was something far deeper than beauty that called to him tonight, something in her manner that couldn’t be denied. He prided himself on being a smart man. One didn’t achieve his kind of success without a brain to build an empire, and as he looked at Emma, he saw a warrior. Strong in the face of resistance, bright in the dark swirl of catty Manhattan moms. She was a marvel, and he was desperate for her reply.

“Yes.”

The answer seemed to surprise Emma almost as much as it encouraged him, but before she could regret it, he took her hand in his once more. He reveled in the sensation of rightness being close to her like this, and when instinct guided his way, he didn’t second guess. He kissed her hand in what some may call an overtly flirtatious move, but the magic of the moment called for something out of the ordinary. He clocked the flush of pink that stained her cheeks, the color that graced her features, and the change in her expression. She was flustered, but happy, and he was proud at sensing what she needed even if she didn’t know herself. Anyone who knew him would hardly recognize him right now, so enchanted by a woman he’d just met, and yet Killian had never felt more himself.

“Thank you. I swear, I won’t let you down.”

“Good.”

With their meaningful agreement, the two of them made an exit from the school, faster than expected, thanks to Emma’s helpful insights. She explained the tendency to check for escape routes as part of her work, and he was intrigued at a woman who chose private investigation for employment. He had no doubt she was brilliant at it, but there was little time to get to the particulars. Soon enough they were out in the New York nighttime, with the hustle and bustle and noise, and he had precious little time to lead them to their destination. Ah, and there was the rub. Because despite his show of confidence, he still wasn’t exactly sure where that destination would be.

“If we’re still in the ‘brainstorm’ phase of this little adventure, I should just say that my babysitter’s got class in the morning. I’ve only got about an hour before she’ll expect me back.”

“I’m in a similar predicament,” he admitted, thinking of his housekeeper, Mrs. Potts, and her duties at home. The older woman would never dream of faulting him for staying late tonight while she watched Arabella, and if she knew it was to pursue a woman like Emma, she’d volunteer for endless service, but he’d like to see Bella before bed. She may be growing up far faster than he wanted, but she still loved a goodnight story from her father or her uncle when the time came.

“What if we split the difference?” she asked him, humor in her eyes as she watched his surprise. “I’ll handle dinner, you handle the date.”

“Ah, so this is a date?” he quipped, his smile so big it nearly hurt. Emma blushed again. She hadn’t meant it that way, but no matter. He’d take what he was given and be glad for it. “Good to know. In that case. I’ve just the place.”

“So do I.” Pulling out her phone she opened an app and then smiled. “And she’s right on time.”

Emma’s confidence was beautiful, even if her words confounded him. He was so taken by her command of the situation that he followed her lead. Her destination was close, in fact, it was a food truck nestled among a crowd of others in a park only half a block away. The crowd was insane here, and on a Tuesday no less. This pop up dining experience had seemingly just begun. Some trucks were still arriving, and windows were all starting to ascend. Killian stayed close as Emma skipped the line at the most flamboyantly decorated caravan. He expected a fight, this was New York after all, but he watched in amazement as many others from the queue greeted Emma warmly. No one took any issue with her approaching the front. Interesting to say the least.

“Okay, I am definitely hallucinating,” a smiling woman with long brown hair jested from inside the truck. “There’s no way that Emma Swan is at my truck tonight. Not when she had a date with the most dreadful people in our fair city.”

“Change of plans,” Emma said with a smile before nodding back to him. The woman looked over and her eyes went big, and then she let loose a wolfish smile.

“And what a change it is. Frankly, he looks like a way better date.”

“I like to think so,” Killian offered in an attempt to pivot from being openly ogled by Emma’s flirtatious friend. “Killian Jones.”

“Ruby Lucas. So, tell me, Killian, what are your intentions with my girl, Emma?”

“Ruby.” Emma’s mortification touched him, and as much as he may like to laugh, he held back in the pursuit of easing her mind.

“They’re completely honorable, but tragically fleeting in the short term. Emma’s agreed to a date, as you’ve surmised, but we’ve only a bit of time before the clock strikes twelve.”

Ruby looked to Emma for clarity and Emma explained the need to get back to the kids. Ruby looked poised to continue her questioning, but she thought better of it, calling back into the truck to her coworker to grab two ‘Emma Specials.’ Before it should be possible, the food was ready, and Emma was bidding her friend goodbye. He took the bag from her grasp, searching for a place to sit, but there was none.

“Don’t worry, this is made for on the go consumption. It’s why she named it for me. Because I’m always on the run.”

Killian was delighted to find she was right, and the grilled, cheesy goodness was beyond anything he could imagine. The layers and flavors, bursting with creativity and unexpected combinations, were amazing. This was quite possibly the best meal he’d had in this city, and it had come from a truck of all places. Equally amazing was how much he enjoyed this on the go approach. He’d always believed a woman should be wined and dined in a more upscale setting, with space, and time and ambiance. But this felt more real, and the difference in the start of this story only confirmed to Killian that it was truly something special.

Emma’s incredible culinary insights also set the bar high for his portion of the night’s events, but he was assured of his choice. Just like with dinner, timing was everything and luck would hopefully be on his side. The place was nearby, and Killian was certain Emma would have never been there before, two obvious reasons for going. It was also a hidden gem of this city along the lines of Ruby’s truck, just in a different way. Ten minute’s walk brought them to the place in question, a stone building nestled among concrete and cement. From the outside, the location was nondescript and some may even say uninteresting, but there was something truly incredible waiting through the doors. The lights in the main room were still on, a good sign for his efforts. Killian clicked the buzzer on the intercom outside and heard the crackle of an old system. Silence. He clicked again. Same thing. One last time and he had the desired effect.

“We’re closed. Opening is tomorrow night.”

“Graham, it’s Killian.”

Immediately the buzzer connected, and Killian pulled open the bronzed grate that had been barred over the doorway. With a hand at the small of her back, Killian led Emma inside and they walked into the front room. It appeared, at this juncture, to be any other run of the mill gallery, but Killian knew better. He’d been here many times before and he’d never left without a substantial shift in mind and body.

“Didn’t take you for the gallery type.” Emma’s words pulled Killian’s attention, and her smirk prompted one of his own.

“I’m full of surprises.”

“Yeah, I’d say so.”

Killian looked to the familiar voice and found Graham. His old friend from college had laughter in his eyes, and a knowing smile on his face. With a glance at Emma and then back at Killian, Graham raised a brow. Killian gave a subtle nod and with that the two of them acknowledged all that they needed to. Killian had never asked for a favor like this before. The woman beside him must truly be something, and Graham was happy not to pry.

“I hope we’re not disturbing you,” Emma said after she and Graham had been introduced. “You’re clearly closed, and an opening is a big deal.”

“We are, and it is, but Killian knows me well enough by now to realize that the show has been ready for days.”

“Weeks more likely,” Killian muttered. Graham grinned.

“No comment.

“So what happened? You just finished before the deadline?” Emma asked, curious at the exchange.

“Nope. I planned it this way. Few people realize that, except for Killian. My other patrons would never let me hear the end of it. They like a bit more theater and drama from their artists. But I like the calm before the storm. Debuts are the start of a marathon. It’ll be nonstop for weeks. Tonight is quiet. Peaceful. How my art was meant to be.”

“And you’re sure we’re not putting you out?” Killian’s heart clenched at Emma’s thoughtfulness. She didn’t know his friend at all, but she was conscious of his feelings, and empathetic to his needs in the situation.

“I’m sure. Besides, friends don’t put you out, and Killian is the best kind of friend. He won’t tell you this, but I only had the chance to create this place because of him. He believed in me long before I did. The least I can do is help him impress a beautiful woman.”

“Watch it, mate.” 

Graham laughed, shaking his head but giving them permission to look for as long as they wanted. “I’ll be here all night. It was a pleasure, Emma. Hope to see you again.”

She thanked him, but the idea of seeing Graham again was quickly replaced when they walked to the next room. Emma and Killian were both immersed in the most astonishing exhibit he’d seen in ages. Graham’s expression was based in multimedia, from sculpture to painting to light work, and he’d out done himself this time.

Entitled ‘Memories of Maine’ the show spanned three different rooms. These areas told the story of a place Killian had never been but that instantly felt sacred. It depicted the region with depth and detail and wonder. It was difficult to know where to begin, but slowly, and naturally, he and Emma walked together side by side. They were captivated by the same bursts of color and glass and light. One particularly beautiful wall bore a three-dimensional scene of waves along the shoreline. Shards of hand blown glass, shells, plastic and metal were woven together or jaggedly juxtaposed with meticulous attention to detail. Up close every component rebelled against its surroundings, but from afar, it looked like sea foam and soft laps of the sea on a sunny summer day.

Another sculpture of substantial height and size reflected pine tree canopies. The scent of it was heavy in the air, and not synthetically, but naturally. Killian knew there were hidden pine trees somewhere, lending their essence to the art. A cool breeze could be felt of indiscernible origins and it moved the eye to paintings on the wall of lifelike leaves. Foliage en masse, with the decay of summer looking more alive than ever before. Then the lighting changed, and an illusion of snow appeared. The paint changed too, with new swirls and texture.  All it once there was that familiar feeling that came when fall kissed the world goodbye and the first frozen flaked made contact. 

As stunning as these pieces were, they were two of more than a dozen central works. Killian never knew the how of Graham’s creations. There were too many amazing skills needed and countless hours of dreaming and crafting for Killian to make sense of it. But the end result was always something he admired. It said something then, that in the midst of such extraordinary talent, he was still ever fixated on Emma. Watching her experience this all for the first time was a revelation in itself. Her amazement was childlike, and the innocent expression of delight and surprise felt healing. He knew in his heart that she knew burdens. Whatever those burdens may be, and whatever scars remained because of them, the two of them shared that past of pain and trial. But this was a place outside of that. This was a place of hope and of beginnings.

“I can’t believe this is real,” Emma said finally, after close to thirty minutes of quiet and reflection. She looked to him, eyes lit up by the world around them, but focused just on him.

“Which part, love?”

“All of it. This place. Tonight. You. I keep thinking…”

She trailed off and he stepped closer, taking her into his arms as he’d wanted to from their first meeting. She didn’t resist, instead melting into him, like she found comfort in the embrace. The feeling of being home coursed through him, and as he gazed upon her, he knew. This was the face of his forever. It may take time to convince her, but he would be damned before he let Emma get away. Whatever it took, he silently vowed to be worthy of her and her love.

“You keep thinking that the other shoe will drop, or you’ll wake suddenly and realize this was mere imagination.” His articulation of her thoughts had her eyes misting slightly as she worried her lip. He moved his hand to cup her cheek, smoothing out that particularly tempting show of tension. “But it is real, Emma. I swear to you, it’s real.”

He couldn’t be sure which of them moved first, but he wanted to believe they chose together in that moment to seal this discovery with a kiss. It was everything he’d hoped and more, charged with a rush of warmth and need but a knowledge that it was simply the first of many. He was lost in her and found there too, already addicted to her nearness and her care. Her taste was pure intoxication, the subtle sounds of her satisfied sighs music to his ears. It was the makings of a memory he’d cherish always. When they finally broke apart sometime later, he was amused to find the ceiling above them was a swirling sea of stars. It was the perfect space for this stolen moment. A surreal start of something spectacular.

“I hate to say goodbye,” she murmured, a slight frown threatening to appear before he kissed her quickly again. When he pulled back she smiled, despite herself.

They both knew that the time had come to go back home. They both had responsibilities to attend to, namely two children who meant the world to them. For Emma, there could be nothing more important than her son and Killian understood that. He had learned just how fierce her love for Henry was tonight, and he was awed by that love. That she was a great mother he had no doubt. He only hoped that someday there’d be space for him too in the life she’d fought so valiantly to make.

“Then we won’t. I’ve never been a fan of farewells. Besides, this is hardly over.”

“You seem pretty sure of that,” she joked, her resistance feigned and not meant in earnest. Her hands ran over his chest lightly, a dizzying display of inclination. Their comfort with each other already had to be fated. Two parts of one whole, two souls finally finding their anchor.

“That’s because I am.”

“So what do we say then? If not goodbye?”

“We say…” He thought about it, and at first he thought no words would do this justice. But ultimately decided to go with what he truly felt and to express those feelings with conviction and honesty. “We say it was enchanting to meet you.” 

“It was,” she agreed, humming out a sound of affirmation.

“We say the best is yet to come.”

“I like the sound of that.”

“And then we say, until tomorrow, love.”

“Tomorrow.”

And with that promise, and a final kiss, the two of them departed from this sacred place together, knowing that the enchantment was destined to linger, and that the love that sparked this evening would fill a lifetime with happiness and joy. 

…………………..

There I was again tonight Forcing laughter, faking smiles Same old tired, lonely place Walls of insincerity, shifting eyes and vacancy Vanished when I saw your face All I can say is, it was enchanting to meet you Your eyes whispered, "Have we met?" 'Cross the room your silhouette Starts to make its way to me The playful conversation starts Counter all your quick remarks Like passing notes in secrecy And it was enchanting to meet you All I can say is, I was enchanted to meet you This night is sparkling, don't you let it go I'm wonderstruck, blushing all the way home I'll spend forever wondering if you knew I was enchanted to meet you The lingering question kept me up 2 AM, who do you love? I wonder 'til I'm wide awake And now I'm pacing back and forth Wishing you were at my door I'd open up and you would say, "Hey" It was enchanting to meet you All I know is, I was enchanted to meet you This night is sparkling, don't you let it go I'm wonderstruck, blushing all the way home I'll spend forever wondering if you knew That this night is flawless, don't you let it go I'm wonderstruck, dancing around all alone I'll spend forever wondering if you knew I was enchanted to meet you This is me praying that This was the very first page Not where the story line ends My thoughts will echo your name, until I see you again These are the words I held back, as I was leaving too soon I was enchanted to meet you Please don't be in love with someone else Please don't have somebody waiting on you Please don't be in love with someone else Please don't have somebody waiting on you This night is sparkling, don't you let it go I'm wonderstruck, blushing all the way home I'll spend forever wondering if you knew This night is flawless, don't you let it go I'm wonderstruck, dancing around all alone I'll spend forever wondering if you knew I was enchanted to meet you Please don't be in love with someone else Please don't have somebody waiting on you

Post-Note: So there we have it! Thank you all so much for reading, and I hope that you enjoyed the chapter. To the lovely reader who asked for this so long ago, I hope this story finds you and I am so grateful for your suggestion. With my muse as quiet as it has been, it’s been wonderful to find things that inspire me. I am not sure when I will have another chapter update, but in the meantime, I am wishing you all well and hope you have a great start to your summer!

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9,Part 10,Part 11, Part 12,Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19, Part 20, Part 21, Part 22, Part 23, Part 24,Part 25, Part 26, Part 27, Part 28, Part 29, Part 30, Part 31,Part 32, Part 33, Part 34, Part 35, Part 36, Part 37, Part 38,Part 39,Part 40, Part 41, Part 42, Part 43, Part 44, Part 45,Part 46,Part 47, Part 48, Part 49, Part 50, Part 51, Part 52, Part 53,Part 54,Part 55, Part 56, Part 57, Part 58, Part 59, Part 60,Part 61,Part 62, Part 63, Part 64, Part 65, Part 66, Part 67, Part 68,Part 69,Part 70, Part 71, Part 72, Part 73, Part 74, Part 75,Part 76,Part 77, Part 78, Part 79, Part 80, Part 81, Part 82, Part 83,Part 84,Part 85, Part 86, Part 87, Part 88, Part 89, Part 90,Part 91,Part 92, Part 93, Part 94, Part 95, Part 96, Part 97, Part 98,Part 99,Part 100, Part 101, Part 102, Part 103,Part 104, Part 105,Part 106, Part 107,Part 108, Part 109, Part 110,Part 111, Part 112,Part 113, Part 114, Part 115,Part 116, Part 117, Part 118,Part 119,Part 120, Part 121, Part 122, Part 123,Part 124, Part 125,Part 126, Part 127, Part 128,Part 129,Part 130, Part 131,Part 132,Part 133, Part 134, Part 135, Part 136, Part 137, Part 138,Part 139,Part 140, Part 141, Part 142, Part 143, Part 144, Part 145,Part 146, Part 147, Part 148,Part 149, Part 150, Part 151,Part 152, Part 153, Part 154, Part 155, Part 156, Part 157, Part 158,Part 159, Part 160, Part 161, Part 162, Part 163, Part 164,Part 165, Part 166, Part 167, Part 168, Part 169, Part 170,Part 171,Part 172, Part 173, Part 174, Part 175, Part 176,Part 177, Part 178, Part 179 , Part 180, Part 181, Part 182, Part 183, Part 184, Part 185, Part 186, Part 187, Part 188, Part 189, Part 190, Part 191, Part 192, Part 193, Part 194, Part 195, Part 196, Part 197

Tagging some friends who may enjoy: @kmomof4 @jennjenn615 @resident-of-storybrooke @winterbaby89 @teamhook

#captain swan #captain swan au #captain swan fic #captain swan oneshot #cs fic #cs #cs au #cs ff #cs fluff #cs first date #cs oneshot #captain swan mixtape #cs mixtape #enchanted #ouat ff #ouat fic

[captainswanfanfic]

I'm like a puzzle (but all of my pieces are jagged) (A CS Fic Rec)

By: Philyra

Summary: Emma Swan finds her home and her family, both on and off the ice. Hockey AU with an integrated NHL.

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3219713

#captain swan #killian jones #emma swan #oneshot #cs ff #hockey #cs fic rec #modern au

[conellu]

X

#3 oneshots and 2 headcanons done for kinktober #was hoping to have more than that at this point but the past week has been bad for my mental health so i've just been painting #ON THE PLUS SIDE I am allowing myself to get at least 15 done and being satisfied at posting every other day #And the other 16 will be posted throughout november and december #also allowing myself to be h/cs for ones I can't type a decent amount for except for this one kokichi fic cause DAMN

[captainswanwipwednesdays]

CS WIP Wednesday Challenge (an evergreen list)

A new WIP writing challenge every week! Dust off your keyboards and bust out your red pens, because we're summoning the muse whether she likes it or not 🧚‍♀️

Feel free to jump in and out as you please - just make sure to tag us so that we can reblog all your updates!

If the week's prompt doesn't work for you, write anything you want! Write what calls to you! Just write something! The same fic can also be used for more than one prompt!

Week 1

👻 The WIP haunting you most (you know which one it is - it's the first one that came to mind when you saw this challenge)

Week 2

👵 Your oldest posted WIP (can you even remember what year it was when that one first went up?)

Week 3

🥰 Your favorite WIP (which one do you actually WANT to be writing right now, regardless of what anyone else thinks of it)

Week 4

🕛 The WIP that has gone the longest without an update (have pity on us readers please)

Week 5

💡 The WIP that has all the notes/outline already done but you haven't managed to start (that's half the work done already!)

Week 6

🎂 The WIP you most recently updated (more cake!)

Week 7

🤏 Your shortest WIP (as in the one that will be the shortest, so short that you can totally write it... right? right.)

Week 8

🤷‍♀️ Any WIP - 500 words (shake that muse until words fall out - any words at all!)

Week 9

📜 Your longest WIP (look how many words you've already written! What's a few more?)

Week 10

🫶 Your WIP with the least amount of notes (let's give it the attention it deserves!)

Week 11

☝️ A oneshot WIP (come on, you can do it! It'll totally stay a oneshot....)

Week 12

🔥 That smutty WIP/scene you've been avoiding (suck it up and write the smut - or fade it to black - just don't let a little smut stand in your way!)

Week 13

☹️ The WIP you started and abandoned/decided not to post (don't let that WIP be an orphan!)

Week 14

🙌 Your posted WIP with the most comments/kudos/notes (give the people what they want!)

Week 15

✍️ That one scene/bit of dialogue in a WIP you don't want to/haven't been able to write (make them do the thing or say the thing even if they do or say it badly!)

Week 16

🃏 Dealer's choice (whatever your heart desires, writers, that's all we want you to have)

Week 17

😈 A new WIP (You've already got so many on the go... what's one more?)

Week 18

😭 That WIP that's going to be so long and involved you don't even want to think about it (Time to bite the bullet and write that first/next sentence)

Week 19

🪈 The WIP you talked about but never started (we're waiting - time to pay the piper...)

Week 20

👀 Let someone else pick which WIP they'd love you to update (it's not peer pressure if it's your friends right?)

🖋🖋🖋🖋🖋🖋🖋🖋🖋🖋🖋🖋🖋🖋🖋🖋🖋🖋🖋🖋

Feel free to send me any suggestions you might have and we can add them to the list - There will be a weekly post as well for each topic as a reminder.

Happy Writing!

#captain swan #WIP Wednesday #captainswanwipwednesdays #cs writing challenge #I'm coming for your WIPs

[kazoosandfannypacks]

WIP Tag Game

Tagged by @tarisilmarwen and @jessicas-pi ;)

Rules: In a new post, list the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it! And then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

~🖊💜🖊~

Star Wars

🎮 gamergirl sabezra fic

🧡 no order 66 au, but with sabezra and a surprise kanera twist thrown in later

💚 sabine meets grogu

Milo Murphy's Law

zalissa oneshots [title of whole document containing the following wips:]

🥜 pistachion prison

🪓 regionally famous rumors

💍 what's in a name

The Shuttle

👨‍👦 sobering reflections

Once Upon a Time

🦸‍♀️ cygnet scholar superhero au

🎙 cs romeo and juliet and boybands

📚 batp romeo & juliet & boybands

🏴‍☠️ hooked on a feeling [working title] (millian soulmark au)

🎆 candlewax and polaroids

🚗 wishing for this

⛵ a great day the navy way

⚰ march 30

👑 kingdom trap

🚕 home to you (swanfire soulmark au)

🏫 college au spring break trip

☀ cs nd au

🎥 storyline pitches for swac au

not tagging one for each wip but just a few of my writer friends: @laughingphoenixleader @silver-the-phoenix @poptart-cat-78 @accidental-spice @kanerallels @whaleiumsharkspeare @kmomof4 @snowbellewells @booksteaandtoomuch tv @jrob64 @jedi-nurse @jedimandalorian @seleneisrising and anyone else who wants to participate!

#kazzy writes #sabezra #zalissa #captain swan #ask game #otp: im counting on you #otp: try something new darling #otp: this feels like a beginning

[m4g3114n1c]

my yapping ass got over the Tumblr word count cs my new freaky ass midas oneshot was 6k words 😭 sorry yall I have to split into two and it’s kind of a nuisance

but new fic coming soon lmao

#midas fortnite #fortnite #midas x reader #midas

[snowbellewells]

CS Fic Rec Monday: "in another life" by: @belovedcreation

Ever since she began posting her "Stolen Hearts" fic and I became a fan of her writing, I've been looking up older fics of @belovedcreation's. This one shot by really tugged at my heartstrings. It's Enchanted Forest set (which I'm always a sucker for!) and there's a touch of restless princess longing for freedom and a star-crossed relationship with our pirate. It may be short, but it already took up a lasting place in my heart.

I also tried some cover art for it - I hope you'll like it @belovedcreation!

"in another life" by: @belovedcreation

#csfrm #cs fic rec monday #cs oneshot #enchanted forest cs au #in another life #major cs fic rec #cs feels #such a talented shipmate

[winterchimez]

✍️ Fic authors self rec!

When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to other writers you know. Let's spread some self-love! 💛

hi anon-ie!! HELLAUR!?!? ME GETS TO PICK AND PROMOTE MY FAV FICS???? IM HONOURED IM FLOORED SAY NO MORE—

beast in the beauty (lee hyunjae)

my debut work, my precious baby 🥹 if it wasn't for this series i wouldn't have been here today still writing fics on deobiblr...this series means sm to me, and im so glad i eventually mustered up the courage to revive this 2 years wip of mine (had to change it to hyunjae cs originally it was for another idol 👀) and it sparked my love for writing crime fics!! 💓

criminal (lee juyeon)

by far one of my top fav works ive ever written!! wrote this within a few hours, and i was feeling really confident and i enjoyed the process! if it wasn't for clo who requested this then this fic wouldn't have seen the light of day 🥹 love love this fic forever and ever 💗

heart's detour (kim sunwoo)

my longest oneshot yet oops 👀 i wrote this bcs of the mv teaser...and i was in a HORRIBLE sunwoo brainrot then, but then bikers au are so cool yall....and it was then i realised how fun it was to write for kim sunwoo (aka making him as delulu as possible 😁) i read this from time to time i love her sm. 🫶🏻

nonsense (jacob bae)

this is a no-frills a very cute fluffiest of the fluff fic hehe ive had this idea for the longest time and when i finally got to it i was so happy with the way it came out!! this song was meant to be for jacob...i really couldn't think of anyone else who would fit for this, and forever grateful that i got to make this series/collab happen with sana 💕

forbidden (ji changmin)

i wrote this is one sitting for like 5 hours...till 3am actually 😃 idk but i was just so inspired that night writing this...and god i love the tension between changmin and yn, and how cold and cocky he is like UGH CHANGMIN 😮‍💨 very grateful that my readers loved this as much as i did, and ofc thankiew beam for requesting this ❣️

#❄️ — asks! #sweetest anon! <3 #the boyz x reader

[beckettj]

There’s No Harm in Repeating - a CS (feat. Captain Cobra) oneshot

Summary: Killian Jones has lived in apartment 204 for a year and has never exchanged more than ‘hellos’ with Emma Swan in apartment 205. That is until a run-in with her son, Henry, results in the boy doing some unintentional matchmaking. For how else do you find out what a woman thinks of you, if not through her four-year-old son? A Captain Swan as neighbors au featuring Captain Cobra moments.

A/N: This fic is inspired by all the wild and wonderful things said to me by various pre-school students over the last couple of years (though I did take a slight creative liberty in one section). And it does get wild. There's no such thing as secrets when it comes to three/four-year-olds.

Word Count: 4432

Also available on: AO3     FFN

There’s No Harm in Repeating

A flask of coffee in hand, Killian Jones stepped out of his crappy apartment, into the just as crappy hallway, to the oh-so-familiar sweet sound of arguing travelling up the stairwell from the entrance hall below.

“Who the hell do you think you are, Emma? You have no right to stop me from seeing my own son!”

“Look at yourself, Neal! You can barely stand! You’re hardly in any fit state to look after yourself, let alone a four-year-old boy!”

Emma Swan. The irritation was clear in her voice, as it travelled up the pungent staircase that Killian started to take down, yet it was her voice which reminded him of the single reason why he hadn’t moved the hell out of the crappy apartment building at any point in the last year. Even when shouting, screaming at her dickhead of an ex with all her might, her voice was as captivating as a siren’s song, drawing him in as the rest of the world fell away around him.

“Every fucking time, Emma! There’s always something with you, isn’t there? You can never just hand him over without causing a scene.”

“Perhaps that has something to do with the fact that you are never able to turn up sober. You need help, Neal.”

“Leave off! I’m perfectly fine.”

“I’d almost believe you, if it weren’t for the slurring.” She let out a heavy sigh. “I can’t believe this! No, in fact, I can! I can totally believe this! This is textbook you, Neal! You get his hopes up and then you let him down.”

“Let him down? I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Yes, and utterly shit-faced, you damn asshole.”

Killian chuckled to himself, having heard enough of their arguments through the building's thin walls to be invested enough to back Emma over her alcoholic ex. He’d also overheard enough to know that when Emma resorted to cursing, she was well and truly pissed. 

Commotions were a frequent occurrence in the apartment complex. Day or night, the residents just did not care. Killian had quickly learned that the best way to cope with it all, was to just treat the whole thing like a soap drama; it was almost more compelling than the ones on television. It wasn’t just Emma and Neal; there was enough drama in the building for him to develop his own soap drama television show if he wanted. If it wasn’t Emma, his lovely neighbor in apartment 205, arguing with her ex, it was the guy in apartment 101 making direct complaints over noise levels, someone accusing the pickpocket in 219 of theft, the guy in 117 finding a megaphone through which to broadcast his crazed ramblings that no one could make any sense of, or the young man in 301 hosting his midnight raves which attracted all the youth in the city like the bloody Pied Piper.

Yes, life in Enchanted View apartments was just charming. And extremely entertaining, in a guilty pleasure kind of way.

The arguing continued as Killian made his way down the stairs, obscenities and insults getting thrown back and forth as Emma went for it in giving Neal a piece of her mind. Killian had to hold back a cheer of satisfaction that she was finally doing such a thing; making himself realize just how invested he had gotten. 

He stayed quiet, not wanting to draw any attention to himself. He hoped to get by unnoticed, to slip out onto the street, and go about his day, leaving them to their dispute. It was only when he reached the bottom step that he determined such a feat to be impossible for Emma Swan stood in the building doorway, blocking his way. Or rather, preventing her tool of an ex-boyfriend from gaining entry to the building. Neal was bladdered; completely and utterly bladdered. Killian had known, from his slurred words, that he was drunk, but the man stood before Emma was well and truly hammered, incapable of standing still, staggering around the doorstep. His movements were slow and shaky, resulting in any attempt he made to get past Emma looking weak and pathetic. The only danger there was of Neal getting over the threshold were if he were to fall flat on his face. Killian chuckled lightly to himself, amused by such a scenario playing out in his head.

“I promised I’d take him bowling so I’m damn well going to take him bowling.”

“Maybe you should have thought about that before you chose to go heavy on the booze for breakfast. It’s not happening, Neal.”

“I’m not leaving ‘til I see him. Where the hell is he? Henry! Henry!”

“Cut it out, Neal. You really don’t want him to see you like this.”

“Oh, lighten up, Emma.”

Killian moved off the bottom step, with the plan to slip out through the back door which led into the side alley. Yet, as he began said plan, his eyes fell on the very boy at the core of the adults’ argument. Henry. The four-year-old sat patiently on the bench, positioned opposite the out-of-order elevator, a book open in his hands. Peter Pan, Killian read from the cover. Henry’s head was buried in the book, avidly inspecting the colourful pictures within it but, every now and then, whenever his parents’ voices rose or his name came up, the boy’s head would shoot out of the book, sending an apprehensive glance towards the doorway in which his equally unrelenting parents stood.

Killian thought back to his own childhood, to all the times his mother argued with his drunk father. He recalled how much he hated it, how he always found a way to blame himself for their arguing, and how useless he had felt every time; the urge to help his mother conflicting with the fear of how his father may react if he did. Killian couldn’t help but see himself in Henry but with one key difference; Liam had been there for Killian, right by his side, throughout every argument. Henry had no one, an only child, sat alone on the bench, just a book for company.

Killian wondered over to the young boy, taking up the empty space on the bench beside him.

“What have you got there, lad?” Killian asked, nodding to the book in Henry’s hands.

“A book,” the four-year-old responded with the obvious.

Killian chuckled to himself; ask a stupid question.

“That a good book?” Killian tried again, determined to strike up conversation to distract the lad from the scene behind him.

The boy shrugged, lacking enthusiasm, “It’s okay.”

Henry’s head turned to the entrance again, just in time to see his father attempt to force Emma’s arm out of the way, only to stumble backwards and fall into a pillar.

“Do you want me to help you read it?” Killian offered, successfully drawing the boy’s attention back onto him.

“That’s okay, thank you,” Henry politely declined his offer. “I look at the pictures and make up my own story.”

“Do you now?” Killian replied. “Care to tell me one?”

Henry smiled at him and nodded enthusiastically. He pointed to the picture in his book, a crocodile circling the waters around the Jolly Roger.

“Once upon a time, Peter Pan took a girl called Wendy to a place called Neverland and they flied there but actually, properly flied, not on an aeroplane, with, like, magic and stuff, and it was an island but there were no animals on the island and Wendy was sad because she loves animals,” Henry began to tell his story.

“Oh, why were there no animals?” Killian asked.

“They went in the water with the crocodile,” Henry answered.

Killian wasn’t quite sure what the four-year-old was implying with that statement.

“So, they all went to live in the water with the croc?” Killian checked.

“No!” Henry protested, looking at him like he was stupid. “The crocodile ate them all up!”

“Well, that’s not very kind,” Killian responded.

“Duh, he’s the bad guy,” Henry said.

Killian laughed; that told him.

“Good point,” he conceded.

“Are you going to let me tell the rest of the story?” Henry asked pointedly.

“Sorry, lad, sure, go ahead,” Killian encouraged.

“There was also a very, very, very bad guy on the island and his name was Captain Hook! He was a pirate who got everyone’s treasure and didn’t like Peter Pan or Wendy,” Henry continued, putting a great level of emphasis on certain words. “Peter Pan and Wendy didn’t like Captain Hook because he was naughty and didn’t have kind hands or kind words so they went to fight him. With swords! And a tyrannosaurus rex! And a dragon! But Captain Hook was really stronger and a gooder fighter and he pushed the tyrannosaurus rex and the dragon and Peter Pan and Wendy into the water and the crocodile ate them all up!”

Henry grinned, looking really proud of himself for coming up with such an exciting story. Killian raised an eyebrow.

“Aren’t the good guys supposed to win?” Killian asked.

“But that’s boring!” Henry defended his story.

“True,” Killian conceded with a chuckle. “And I must admit, it was a twist I didn’t see coming. You’re quite the storyteller, lad.”

Henry beamed at him, completely distracted from the argument raging on behind him.

“That’s what I want to do when I’m bigger!” Henry spoke enthusiastically, bouncing up and down on the bench. “I want to be a story maker!”

“I’m sure you’ll make a fine story maker,” Killian encouraged, smiling at the boy.

“I’m going to make stories about castles and princes and princesses and space and pirates and dragons and dinosaurs!” Henry told him eagerly, speaking at a hundred miles per hour.

“Wow, that’s a lot of stories,” Killian remarked.

“My favorite dinosaur is the tyrannosaurus rex,” Henry segued slightly, once again impressing Killian with his pronunciation.

“Good choice, lad. Those are the big ones,” Killian replied.

“But they’re all extinct now,” Henry spoke matter-of-factly.

“That’s a big word you’ve used there,” Killian commented as the four-year-old continued to impress him with his vocabulary. “Do you know what it means?”

“It means they’re all gone,” Henry answered confidently. “They died and turned into fossils which is good because if they weren’t died they would eat us all up!”

“You’re just full of knowledge, aren’t you?” Killian mused.

Henry grinned at him, seemingly appreciating the compliment. Killian was just happy to have lifted his spirits slightly, even if it was only temporary. The commotion in the doorway was bound to end eventually and he couldn’t pretend to know how things would proceed from there. In the meantime, Killian was more than happy to keep the lad company; it was far better than the boy sitting on his own, listening to every word his parents exchanged.

“My name’s Killian, by the way,” he introduced himself.

He had seen the boy around the apartment building on multiple occasions. They had even nearly bumped into each other several times; the energetic boy didn’t have the best spatial awareness. They had smiled at each other, waved on occasion, and Killian had exchanged the odd ‘hello’ with his mother, but no official introductions had ever been made. Killian suddenly realized that his conversation with the boy meant that he had had more interaction with young Henry than with the boy’s mother. As good company as the boy provided, something had gone seriously wrong with that one.

“I’m Henry,” the boy introduced himself in return.

Little did the four-year-old know that Killian already knew his name. The apartment walls weren’t exactly thick, and Henry wasn’t quite as well behaved behind closed doors as he was when out in public. There were a few times each week where Emma got forced into resorting to shouting her son’s name to get him to listen to her.

“Nice to meet you, Henry,” Killian smiled at him.

The boy smiled back in return and Killian took a pause from the conversation to take a swig of his coffee whilst thinking of the next question to ask to continue his distraction attempts.

Henry spoke up first, “My mommy says fucking hell.”

Killian spluttered and choked on his coffee as it went down the wrong hole. He promptly recovered and looked at the boy beside him who was looking up at him with such sweet, innocent hazel eyes. There was no way, Killian decided, that such a young boy had said what he thought he had just heard.

“Sorry, kid, I missed that one,” Killian told him.

Henry replied, assured and matter of fact in what he was saying, “My mommy says fucking hell.”

Bloody fucking hell. Killian was out of his depth the second he had struck up a conversation with the boy, let alone when he found himself having to deal with a four-year-old cursing.

“I don’t think you should be repea-”

“That’s what my mommy says to my daddy.”

Killian couldn’t help himself and let out a loud laugh. He glanced at Neal and took in the man’s inebriated state; the way he staggered as he tried, and failed, again, to force his way past Emma who stood strong in the doorway, continuing to refuse to relinquish her position. A series of slurred insults poured out of Neal’s mouth, all directed at Emma and none of them harbouring even a slither of truth.

Killian turned back to Henry, his own chain of choice words coming to mind when he thought of Neal.

“Honestly, lad, I don’t blame her,” Killian remarked.

Henry glanced down at his book and absent-mindedly flicked through a couple of pages, barely glancing at the pictures. Killian took the momentary pause in conversation as another chance to take a swig of his coffee.

“Killian?” Henry spoke up again.

“What’s up, lad?” Killian returned.

“Are you going to have a sleepover with mommy?” Henry shot a random question at him.

Killian frowned, wondering where the boy could have possibly gotten that question from, before answering, “Not that I know of.”

“Oh,” Henry’s shoulders slumped, radiating disappointment.

“What makes you ask?” Killian questioned curiously.

Henry sat up straighter and set his book down on the bench. He turned back to Killian, his eyes wide with excitement.

“Once upon a time, I had a scary nightmare at night-time and it was really, really, really late because it was really, really black out my window,” Henry delved into what Killian feared for a moment was going to be another story ending with everyone getting eaten up, rather than an answer to his question. “And because I was scared, I wanted my mommy and I found her in the living room and she was drinking wine!”

“Did she drink it all up?” Killian asked.

“She drank loads of it. Mommy says wine is really nice but I don’t know because she won’t let me try because I’m not big enough. She says it’s a grown-up drink,” Henry said, instantly making Killian regret asking, distracting the boy from the original point. “Mommy says too much wine make you silly like Daddy, and not in a good way like a clown, but she said she needs wine sometimes to deal with Daddy. She says Daddy drives her round the bend.”

Killian laughed and made a mental note to watch every single thing he said around the boy, picking up on his habit to repeat things he heard. He guided the lad back to the original point, “What were you saying about a sleepover?”

“Oh, yes!” Henry grinned at the reminder. “Mommy was drinking wine with her friend Mary Margaret and I heard Mommy say that she wanted the man next door in her bed. That’s you.”

Killian knew it was him before Henry had even pointed it out to him, given the resident in apartment 206 was a woman. He smiled to himself and looked knowingly across at Emma. She still had her back to him, too caught up in dealing with Neal and was probably totally oblivious to his presence there. She wasn’t, however, oblivious to his presence in the apartment next door; her kid had just made that much clear to him.

She may have been drunk at the time of Henry’s earwigging, but drunk meant free of inhibition which meant there had to be some level of truth to her words. It had been a year since he had moved in, and it was the first hint he had ever received that she was at all interested in him. With nothing but passing exchanges of ‘hellos’, Killian had assumed otherwise but, after talking to Henry, he put the pieces together, realizing that she was essentially a single mother, single-handedly bringing up a four-year-old with a pathetic excuse for a father, which undoubtedly left little room for dating. If he wanted to be more than neighbors exchanging the odd polite hello, he was going to have to make the first move and, armed with the knowledge Henry had given him, he was suddenly extremely eager to do so.

If only Neal would give up already. The man was still arguing his case to Emma.

“So?” Henry spoke up, forcing Killian to take his eyes off Emma and return them to her son. “Are you going to have a sleepover?”

“We’ll see,” Killian responded, trying to be as careful as he could with his choice of words.

‘Killian wants to have a sleepover with you’ coming out of Henry’s mouth was not the way he wanted to approach asking Emma out.

“Are you going to be my new daddy?”

Killian was so glad he wasn’t drinking his coffee in that moment for he would have choked on it again. He stared at the kid, unsure if he really wanted to find out where that question had come from and yet, he was curious.

He couldn’t help himself, “What makes you ask that?”

“When Mommy said that she wanted you in her bed, Mary Margaret said that you would make a better daddy for me than my daddy,” Henry recalled then sighed, dropping his head and inspecting his shoes. “My daddy’s rubbish. He never does anything he says he’s going to do.”

Killian made a mental note to thank Mary Margaret, if he ever met her, for dropping him in it with that one.

“Your daddy’s not rubbish, Henry,” Killian reluctantly forced the words out. “He just needs… a bit of help.”

A lot of help. And Neal needed to accept that fact too.

Henry frowned, looking slightly disappointed, “So… you’re not going to be my new daddy?”

“You’ve already got a daddy, Henry. And maybe, if he gets that little bit of help, he’ll be able to be a good daddy. And if not, maybe in the future Mummy will find you a better daddy,” Killian replied carefully, not at all sure he was saying the right thing; he was so far out of his depth. “For now, though, I can just be your friend.”

A small smile crept onto Henry’s face, “Friends?”

“Friends?” Killian returned the question.

“Yeah!” Henry nodded enthusiastically.

The boy’s smile broadened into a huge grin, one which Killian couldn’t help but return. As they fell into a comfortable silence, the heated exchange in the doorway was the only sound which filled the room.

“You want to see your son?” Emma snapped. “Sober the hell up and get some help. I’m done playing these games with you.”

“Fine!” an exasperated Neal shot back.

“Fine!”

Killian watched as Neal turned and staggered off down the steps back towards the street, amazed and slightly disappointed to see him do so without falling flat on his face. Emma slammed the door on him, the loud bang making little Henry jump. She let out a heavy sigh, and took a moment to compose herself, before turning around to find her son. Her eyes landed on Killian and she narrowed them, confused and surprised by his presence, watching him inquisitively as she walked over.

“Hey there,” she greeted.

“Hi,” he returned.

An exchange of hellos.

Henry jumped up from the bench, bouncing enthusiastically on his feet as he grabbed Emma’s hand.

“Mommy, Mommy, this is Killian, the man next door. He’s my new friend. He’s very nice. He sat with me whilst you and Daddy were arguing again,” Henry told her excitedly.

Emma glanced to the door and there was a harder look on her face when she looked back at Killian, “You heard all that?”

“I heard all the stories your boy was telling me,” Killian responded, choosing not to acknowledge the argument that she didn’t seem too thrilled about him overhearing. Something told him she hadn’t realized just how thin the walls were in the building, and just how many of her behind-closed-doors domestics he had also heard in the past. “He’s got quite the imagination.”

“Did they end with everyone getting eaten?” she asked, a hint of amusement in her tone.

“They did, indeed,” Killian confirmed with a nod. “Quite the thrilling twist.”

“Predictable if you listen to too many,” Emma warned.

“That, I look forward too,” he returned.

She smiled slightly then spoke, with some of the sincerest words he had ever heard, “Thank you, Killian.”

“It was my honor,” he returned, matching her tone. “That’s one fine boy you’ve got there. He’s a real credit to you.”

Even if he has been dropping you in it.

Emma looked down at Henry beside her, ruffling his hair. When she looked back up at Killian, their eyes locked, his blue ones meeting her green, captivating him, drawing him in just as her voice did. Henry’s words echoed in his mind; I heard Mommy say she wanted the man next door in her bed. That’s you. It was him. Emma wanted him and man, did he want her. Not necessarily in his bed (though he certainly wouldn’t protest) but even in general; he wanted her there, with him, beside him, around. He wanted to be hers and, lost in each other’s gaze, he had the chance to take a step in that direction, to ask her out.

“Where’s Daddy?” Henry spoke up first, beating him to it.

Damn it. Bloody Neal.

Emma’s eyes left his, dropping down to her kid once more and Killian followed her gaze. Henry was looking towards the closed door of the apartment building, no Neal in sight.

“He said we were going bowling,” a disappointed Henry sighed.

“I know, kid,” Emma crouched down to his level, pushing the hair away from his eyes before taking his hands in hers. “But Daddy had to be somewhere. He’s really sorry. Maybe in a few weeks-”

“Let’s do it,” Killian spoke up, cutting her off.

Emma looked up at him, frowning, “I’m sorry?”

“Let’s do it,” Killian repeated. “Let’s go bowling.”

Henry gasped, his eyes immediately lighting up as he started excitedly bouncing around again. “Really?”

“If your mum doesn’t mind…” Killian hesitantly trailed off, realizing he probably should have spoken to Emma about it first.

He looked at her. The sharp look he received back from Emma told him he most definitely should have spoken to her first.

Bloody hell.

Had he put his foot in it the very first chance he had gotten? Had he screwed things up before they had even begun?

Emma stood up. She encouraged Henry to take a look at his book whilst she discussed some plans, and then pulled Killian away from the bench and towards the door. Her touch was light and her skin smooth against his arm. He was hit by a pang of disappointment when her touch left him, desperate for more. She folded her arms, guarding herself.

“Look, Killian, I appreciate-”

“I’m sorry,” he apologized, cutting her off before realizing he was developing a bad habit of doing so. “I should have spoken to you before saying anything to the lad. He just looked so disappointed.”

“I appreciate the sentiment, Killian, but all you did is delay the disappointment, probably even increased it. I can’t take him bowling,” Emma told him with an exasperated sigh. “I’m living pay check-to-pay check as it is and we’re only just scraping by. I can’t afford to take him bowling.”

“It’s on me,” Killian told her.

Emma gaped at him, “Why would you do such a thing?”

The question had multiple answers, as far as Killian was concerned. He could spend all day answering that one. After all, why wouldn’t he do such a thing? He decided to keep his response as concise as possible in an effort not to appear all gushy.

“Because your son is quite the charmer, in his own little way,” he told her. “And it’s about time I asked you out on a date and I can’t wait a week and I don’t expect you to find a babysitter on such short notice. So, Emma Swan, would you and your little prince care to join me on a bowling and pizza adventure?”

“You know my surname?” she didn’t miss a trick.

“I may have peeked at your mail,” he confessed.

“That’s crafty, Killian Jones,” she smirked at him.

He raised an eyebrow at her own crafty confession, “Is that a yes?”

“Hey, kid!” Emma avoided answering, calling over to Henry instead, whose little head shot out of his book like lightning. “Wanna go bowling?”

“Yes!” Henry exclaimed.

The four-year-old tossed his book aside on the bench and jumped to his feet, racing across to Emma and Killian before once again returning to his excited bouncing.

“Killian’s treating us to bowling,” Emma told the boy. “What do you need to say?”

“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” Henry exclaimed.

Without warning, the boy charged at him, running straight into his legs, and wrapping his arms around them. The action knocked Killian off balance and he would have fallen were it not for Emma grabbing a hold of his hand and steadying him, saving him from that embarrassment. With his balance restored, Killian gratefully ran his thumb along hers as he let go.

“That’s quite alright, Henry,” Killian replied as he gently patted the boy on the shoulder.

“Come on then, kid, go fetch your book and we’ll set off,” Emma prompted.

Henry released Killian from his tight grasp and ran off back to the bench, doing as he was told. Killian’s eyes met Emma’s once more as she smiled at him, a gesture he automatically returned.

“You just made his day,” Emma told him.

“You just made my year,” Killian returned.

#ouat #Captain Swan #cs ff

[piinfeathers]

hi there! huuuge fan of your art style and your adorable CS artwork!!! <3 <3 feel free to ignore this request if it's not something you're interested in, but a few fellow CS fans and I read a CS oneshot (https://www.fanfiction.net/s/10610506/1/Video-Games) << this lil story about Emma, Killian and Henry playing video games, and we thought your art style would fit this scene so perfectly!

but if it doesn't inspire your muse/etc, no worries at all!!! I'm still more than happy to just share my love and appreciation of your incredible talent and thank you for sharing it with us!! <3 hope you're enjoying your week!!

i'm sorry it took me forever to reply to this!! i had. a very bad week last week ;;

but that fic was the cutest thing i've read in a WHILE and hmmm, yes maybe it does give me some ideas, thank you 🥹💖

#asks #fic rec #also thank you for your really nice words ;; i really appreciate them #i'm also a super huge fan of your writing <3

[greenandsorrow]

I'm a maniac when it comes to organising, but then I end up overwhelming myself and settling for the simplest solution possible. *adhd*

My goal is that y'all can navigate my account with ease. (this is a multifandom acc and things can end up looking very cluttered)

The question is....

I'll probably edit my masterlist after the amount of my fic increases a bit more..

Or I can just keep it as it is (organised in h/cs, oneshots, multi chap fics) and only make separate sections for my most written fandoms.

#fanfic #hazbin hotel #fanfiction #ryan gosling #smut #multi chap fic #multifandom account #multifandom #ken x reader #officer k x you #tsh #ledger joker #thorin x reader #my polls #tumblr polls #alastor #lotr headcanons #dps fandom