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selfships-in-spanish · 4 years

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UH YES HI HELLO CAN I GET ALL THREE ROBO BOYS AND ONA GETTING IT ON BC CONNOR, 60, AND RICHARD ?? WITH ONA ? FUCK YES, BRING ON ALL THE ROBO DICKS - filth anon 🍆

JFORGHFASD FILTH ANON!! I MISSED YOU AROUND HERE MY FELLOW SINNER. WELCOME BACK MY FRIEND!!!! But jesus fucking Christ, Ona is about to get thoroughly fucked by three very horny robots. RIP her pussy.

Also MILLION APOLOGIES for taking this long but the horny braincell didn’t want to cooperate. AT LAST! IT IS HERE! :D also a bazillion thanks to @tinmiss1939 for being such a sweetheart and helping me out when english also didn’t want to cooperate. I love you girl ❤️

But this is filth. Pure, unadulterated smut for your reading eyes :D enjoy!

Whoever had the idea of making a field day for the police station as a fundraising with activities and such, was both a genius and a sadist. Especially in summer.

It was hot, you could hear the bugs chirping and people seeking the shadow of trees and tents if they were not engaging in any activity, cool drinks in hand. The water-gun fight was a godsend, helping those who were battling to cool down under the unforgiving sun.

But Connor thought it was absolute torture to be involved in the water-gun fight. Not for the fight per se, he actually loved spraying water directly into Detective Reed’s face, but because he had to fight against Detective Boix.

Detective Boix who is a complete drenched mess.

She’s laughing, ducking behind a barrel while another officer tries to soak her even more. Connor cannot remember the name, and right now he couldn’t care less. All his processing power is currently occupied with preconstructions about sneaking behind her, aim with an unmatched precision, soak that patch that is resisting so bravely, making her turn around so he can add even more water to her front and–

“If you continue with that train of thought, you’re going to self-combust.” Richard, the RK900 that was found, awakened and deployed on the DPD, spoke behind him. He was close too, and judging by his red LED, he wasn’t fairing better.

“The same could apply to you.”

��I still have more processing power.”

“All that mighty power goes south when dear Detective Boix is near.” another voice identical to Connor spoke on their left side. This was the RK800-60, the version generated to confront Connor at cyberlife tower. He liked going by the name of Killian, trying to distance himself from his double and his upgraded model. It gave him a sense of self.

Richard looked at him with a raised eyebrow and a glare that clearly indicated “that is utter bullshit and you’re not immune either”. He would never admit to his bratty predecessor that he, indeed, had certain malfunctions when the detective was near. He was designed to be superior than them, faster, stronger, more resilient…

Killian and Richard heard Connor produce some sort of noise, a mix between a whimper and grinding metal. They looked at him, a little bit concerned, and then at Connor’s hands gripping tightly the gun. If he added a little bit more pressure, he would break it. His eyes were glued ahead, watching Ona squealing and then laughing again when Tina aimed right at her butt.

Ona was wearing shorts that hugged her… assets rather nicely. Her legs were on display, honey skin glistening with water. If the three RK prototypes focused on the freckles and cute moles sprayed on them like constellations, nobody could blame them for that.

The sound of footsteps alerted them, but they were more focused at the view in front of them. Ona ducked another water spray and aimed her water gun, hitting Tina right on her stomach. The droplets moved down her skin, their eyes following the paths and even preconstructing where would they end up. The RKs knew the footsteps belonged to a male, judging by the way the person moved, and as their processors detected, they belonged to a coworker. A young male.

Without looking away, the three androids raised their water guns and with deadly accuracy, sprayed the poor soul who thought they could sneak on them. They heard a yell and colourful curses, their victim stomping away.

“Fuck you, you plastic pricks!” Gavin shook the water off his face, blinking rapidly as Richard’s jet hit him right in his eyes. Connor hit his torso, while Killian soaked the front of his jeans, leaving Gavin to feel very uncomfortable every time he took a step.

“That’s what you get for sneaking behind three state of the art androids, you fool.” Hank laughed while making his addition to the soaked mess that was Gavin. He aimed to his shoes, knowing they would do squeaky noises until they dried. He walked over the three androids, chuckling to himself. “I know better than to try to soak you three, but I must tell you that you look creepy as fuck right now. I suggest moving your asses and join the battle and stop ogling our darling detective over there.”

Connor gasped, slightly offended. “I am not ogling!” At least he had the decency to slightly blush.

“We are merely assuring Detective Boix is alright, should she need reinforcements.” Richard knew Hank was staring at him with his bushy brow raised and giving him the “oh really?” face. He had to try.

“Oh yeah? Then why not assist her now? She clearly needs help.” Hank nodded in Ona’s direction.

Ona ran away from the combined power of Chris and Tina, laughing and blindly shooting jets of water. Somehow, Chris managed to get a Super-Soaker model with way more water capacity; he could drench you in seconds.

“I guess I’ll have to be her knight in shi–” Killian took a few steps forward until Connor shoved past him, Richard sprinting behind him. He cursed and ran after them two, not wanting to be the last to arrive.

Hank looked at the three of them, crossing his arms and chuckling. “State of the art my ass.” He went back to the forgiving shade of a tree where Fowler and her wife and kids were chatting with Ben, who was being victim of the kid’s water guns. Hank saved him and sprayed them lightly, making them squeal.

Meanwhile, Ona managed to escape from Chris and Tina and took this opportunity to go refill her gun and take a breather. It had been a long time since the entire precinct had a good time. With the whole android revolution mess, the changes that came after and everything… it had been chaos, stressful. Everyone was on edge, everyone was confused and trying their best, so this was truly an opportunity to wind down and forget about the stress for a while.

She entered the visitors locker room behind the courtyard where they were having their fight.

Detroit’s high-school lended their facilities, the trackfield and locker rooms too, to the DPD’s fundraiser. Even the kids helped with some decorations and they proudly showed the artwork, making sure no jets of water hit the decorative paper garlands and banners. Richard would make sure the murals survived, he still didn’t know how to react with the fact that some kids decided to draw him, but he would protect it.

Ona hoped nobody was there; she just needed a little bit of quiet. She sighed blissfully, smiling as she felt the cool air caress her wet skin, and walked to one of the multiple sinks while opening the water-guns’s refill chamber. The sound of water splashing inside the empty plastic filled the locker room, the sounds of children giggling and screaming muffled and in the distance. She looked at herself in the mirror, letting out a soft laugh at her appearance. Her t-shirt was completely drenched and her white curls were glued to her forehead and face, some droplets falling down. She thanked whatever deity that was there that she decided to wear a bikini, knowing Chris and Tina had a massive competitive streak and would absolutely target Ona.

She did not hear the door of the visitors locker room opening and closing, too busy thinking about strategies to fight back against Chris and Tina. Once the water-gun was filled to the brim, Ona closed it and left it on top of the sink, stretching her arms and back like a cat, even letting out a sigh when some parts popped into place. She was suddenly hit by an ice-cold water jet on the last dry spot on her back.

Ona let out a loud shriek, jumping and bumping her hip on the sink. Colourful curses followed while she went for her water-gun, turning around to see Connor, Killian and Richard standing right there with Connor’s water-gun raised. He had the decency to look a little bit guilty about it. Ona left the gun back on the sink.

“Me cago en la leche, you scared me!” She had her hand on her chest, feeling her heart beating wildly while the other one cradled her bruised hip.

“Sorry Detective.” Connor lowered his arm and kicked at an imaginary stone. Ona marvelled at the completely human reactions he had sometimes.

“You are not sorry at all, Connor.” Killian crossed his arms, smugly smiling at Connot for being scolded.

Ona sighed, ignoring Killian and Connor’s guilty face for a second and noticing Richard way more silent than he already was.

“Everything okay there, Richard?”

He stood into attention, nodding, but all he could process was ‘wet shirt, bikini top, wet skin, freckles, wet translucent shirt…’.

“Yes Detective Boix, everything is functioning at its optimal—“

“He’s about to fry his CPU.” Killian stopped Richard mid sentence, trying to stifle a laugh at Richard’s murderous expression thrown at him.

“What?” Ona gasped, stopping whatever action Richard may have done. She ran to his side, carefully grasping his uniform jacket. “Oh my God Richard, did something happen? Did water get in someway? Do we need to take you to a Cyberlife technician? If it’s this bad we need to take you to one.” Ona went on and on, alarmed at the led spinning violently red.

The three androids internally cooed at her, her distress making them feel appreciated. Richard tried to say something but all his processing power was focused on to not accidentally overheat and the wet white t-shirt that clung to her snugly, not leaving anything to the imagination. Now that she was closer, he could see her glistening skin, feel the warmth of her body, and he honestly was only a good little android trying so hard to be a good little android.

Killian wasn’t a good little boy scout like Connor or Richard. He was a handsome devil and he knew it. He approached them and stood right behind Ona. Grinning, he let his lips brush her ear as he spoke.

“This is solely because Mr. ‘Faster, Stronger and more Resilient’ is having his processing power go south.”

Killian made Ona jump and gasp as he tugged her t-shirt back, tightening and gluing itself on her body. Her bikini top pattern became more apparent and Richard let out a soft frustrated sound, raising his hands but not daring to touch yet. Killian chuckled, sending pleasant shivers down Ona’s spine.

“You have been a bad girl, Detective,” Killian sneaked a hand around her body, exploring her belly and toying with the hem of her shorts. “A bad, bad girl, teasing us three with such indecorous clothing.” Killian knew it was a very cheesy line, but Ona’s sharp intake of air made him grin, knowing she was getting on with the program.

On the corner of his eye, Killian saw Connor silently move, walking to the visitors locker room entrance and locking the front door. The click of the lock felt as if a rubber band snapped. Richard dropped the plastic gun to the floor and grasped her face in his big hands, pulling her to his lips. Ona’s little moans were engulfed by Richard, her hands desperately holding onto him on his passionate onslaught.

Richard knew humans needed to breathe and Ona was not an exception. He let go of her lips, feeling her pants on his wet ones. Killian wasted no time, he let go of her to turn her head to him, crashing his lips into hers hard. He was demanding, hungry, needy, desperate, and Ona couldn’t help but be consumed by the pure lust he emanated.

Her moans fueled him further, his hands touching and grabbing all the flesh he could. Ona felt Richard go to his knees, his warmth disappearing momentarily. He unfastened her trousers and pulled them down, looking up in time to see Killian give her a moment to breathe. She looked down and whimpered, her blown pupils swallowing her green irises. Richard was a sight to behold, all disheveled and visibly affected, opposite to his usual composed and perfect self.

Connor sat down on the bench close to them, enjoying the show in front of him, for now. Killian was always impatient, wanting to go quick and dirty, while Richard wanted to take all the time in the world to make sure Ona wouldn’t be able to even lift a finger. He was patient, alright, but her heaving chest and arched back was bewitching him.

Maybe he accidentally projected some of that eagerness to join in the fun, because Killian looked right at him while leaving a sloppy trail of kisses on her neck, perfect teeth nipping the soft skin. Connor frowned, not entirely happy with that.

“Don’t leave marks, Killian. At least not on visible places.” Killian groaned, upset that Connor discovered his intentions. He loved to mark her up and let everyone know she was his, to see her flesh react to his actions. It was such a treat to hear her sweet moans.

“Party pooper…” Ona could feel Killian’s whispered words on her neck, his tongue following after.

Richard busied himself with her thighs, kissing the droplets away and following the pattern of freckles on her skin. He took one of her legs and lifted it gently, placing it down on his shoulder. He left a trail of more kisses and soft brushing of lips, raising goosebumps on its wake. Richard’s hands traveled up until he found the strings of the bikini bottoms, toying with them. He decided to leave them on, for now.

Ona’s leg trembled, followed by a whimper, and Richard decided it was time to do what every single biocomponent was begging him to. Slowly he traced a finger on the bikini hem, travelling up and down until he hooked it and pulled the fabric to the side, just enough for him to see what he was looking for.

She was a soaked mess, her juices dripping out of her. Richard licked his lips in anticipation.

A soft mewl tore itself out of Ona’s mouth, her hands going immediately to Richard’s head and gripping his hair tightly, the moment Richard’s tongue shyly lapped her up. He gave kitten licks, enjoying her squirming and trembling thighs, and pleasedly sighed when he buried his face between her legs. He loved to be surrounded by her warmth, her scent, her taste… and to pull the most lovely sounds from her lips. Richard decided he could be bolder, lick a stripe up and busy himself with her clit that was begging him for attention. The response was immediate. Ona moaned loudly, a curse following after as the hands tightened their hold and pressed him even closer to her.

Connor loved watching Ona get eaten out by Richard. He was meticulous, he always gave everything to it and left Ona an absolute mess. But her fucked out expression was a treat. He could feel himself constricted in his clothes, his biocomponents begging for fresh, cold air. He could wait. Okay, scratch that, he couldn’t, her moan made that patience fly out the window.

The sound of Connor’s belt buckle being undone made Ona look to the side, letting out a soft mewl when she saw Connor touching himself while focusing all his attention on her. It felt exhilarating, to have these three gorgeous, brilliant men (who happened to be the most advanced prototype androids ever made) having their way with her and enjoying every damn second of it. Killian didn’t like how her attention was on Connor, and he made sure she knew by biting her exposed neck. Connor’s growl made Ona wetter, which in turn made Richard let out a pleased groan at the feel of her juices coating his mouth and chin.

“I said no visible marks, Killian.”

“Oh c’mon, don’t deny how much it turns you on to see everyone look at you green with envy.”

“I don’t like to cause distress to the Detective.” Connor stopped his hand, a cutting edge on his words.

Richard had enough of his predecessors’ bickering. With regret, he tore himself apart from her sopping wet cunt and smoothly stood up. He could hear Ona mutter a breathy curse at the sight of his glistening mouth, his tongue unconsciously swiping over his lips. Killian knew he got himself in trouble judging by the angry frown the RK900 unit sported. Richard shoved him away, making him release the detective’s body so he could sit her next to Connor. Reaching behind him, he took out his issued handcuffs.

“You are being a brat,” Richard grabbed him by his shirt and shoved him to the bench behind them. “On the floor. Now.” One would be wise to not question Richard, even less when he was horny.

Killian thought about spitting a retort, but Richard’s angry scowl made him rethink his life choices. He obeyed, sitting down.

“Hands behind your back.” Killian put them and pitifully whined when Richard blocked his perfect view of Connor making Ona sit on his lap after getting rid of Ona’s shorts. He had the beautiful sight of her ass in front of him, full and plump.

Connor knew how much he liked it, so after Richard finished cuffing him to the iron bench leg, Connor grabbed a handful and squeezed, making her whimper. Killian groaned, really wanting to do that himself.

“Don’t you dare break them.” Richard warned him as he went next to Ona and Connor.

Connor busied himself with peppering her neck with soft kisses as he played with her ass, grabbing her with both hands so he could grind his cock up at the same time he pushed her down. Ona wrapped her arms around his neck and began moving on her own, pressing down desperately, needing more. But Connor wasn’t going to move along soon, loving the feel of her bikini bottom’s fabric on his cock, so she had to take matters into her hands. Literally. With an annoyed grunt, Ona unglued herself from Connor and grabbed his cock, positioning it right where she wanted it. With her other hand she pushed aside the slippery fabric of her bikini and sank herself down. Connor moaned out loud, his cock twitching at the burning sensation engulfing him.

The three androids loved when Ona rode them. She took what she wanted, riding them with wild abandon. And right now Connor let himself be used. She had been played with by them, teased, edged, and now she really, really needed to have her brains fucked out. Connor helped her when he was able to gather his wits, thrusting up at the same time she went down. That made her moan out loud, a breathy “fuck yes” whispered out right after.

The sight was maddening for Killian. He had the most perfect view right in front of him, he could see the jiggle of her ass as Connor pounded into her, Connor’s cock disappear in that wonderful tight heat… he felt himself throb inside his trousers, probably staining the front of his dark jeans. Ona let Connor take the pace now, falling to his chest and taking what he had to offer. She turned her head, hair plastered on her forehead, to Richard. Her coy smile invited him to join them both. And he couldn’t refuse, not when that mouth was so tempting and open, letting the three of them know how much she was enjoying it.

Richard unbuckled his belt and lowered his trousers enough to free his aching cock. Ona was both surprised and pleased that Richard decided to forgo underwear today. Richard stood astride the bench, feeling Ona’s warm breath on the exposed tip. She let her tongue playfully lick the tip, using the rocking motion of Connor’s hips to let her tongue taste more of him.

Connor decided to slow down a bit, to grab her hips and pull her down so he could slowly grind up to her. Ona moaned softly, closing her eyes at the feel of Connor hitting all the right places. The feel of her plush lips kissing and and brushing along Richard’s cock made him mutter a curse, biting his lips and using all his willpower to not thrust into her mouth. Ona liked to tease, the three of them knew it all too well, and now it was Richard’s time to suffer it. She slowly wrapped her lips around the tip, applying the lightest of suctions, while her tongue shyly curled around it. Connor kept moving, watching enraptured as Ona took more of Richard’s cock inside her mouth. Richard was made to be bigger, more intimidating, and their designers made sure every part of him matched. So it was always a wonder how Ona managed to take him all in.

Killian’s fingers twitched, itching to just break the handcuffs and join them. He would show them. He would teach them how to thoroughly debauch her and—

“Don’t you even think about it, RK800-60”. Richard’s growl made him freeze, like a deer in headlights.

Connor’s eyes had a dangerous glint too, watching Killian like a hawk. But while Richard was distracted, Connor took that opportunity to tear Ona away from Richard’s cock with a wet pop and take off her soaked t-shirt. He was hypnotized by the way her breasts bounced, and he needed to see them without any clothing in the way. Connor pushed aside the bikini top, and he cursed when he saw the perky nipples begging him for attention. But what made him lose it was the visible tan line. It fascinated the three androids, but it was Connor’s weakness.

A hand on Ona’s back of the head reminded her of the aching need in front of her, and while Connor was still distracted, she inched closer to take Richard back inside her mouth. She tore away one of her hands holding her in place to grab whatever was closest to her hand and urge Richard to take what he wanted. She could take it, and right now? She needed it.

Richard could never deny her anything, and he began moving his hips to a comfortable rhythm until her hand tugged at him again. Connor regained his senses and started moving again, bouncing her on his lap while his hands squeezed her breasts. But his hands weren’t enough, he needed more, so he bent until his lips brushed her skin, kissing and nipping the tan line until his mouth engulfed a nipple. Ona moaned around Richard’s cock, and Connor could feel her walls tightening on his. By the mess Ona was making between her legs, Connor knew she was close, and judging by the way Richard’s hips stuttered on his perfect rhythm, he needed more than her mouth. Connor sneaked a hand between them, his thumb rubbing her slippery clit. The reaction was immediate.

Ona arched her back, making Richard’s cock slip out of her mouth. She moaned without a care, rocking her hips. Connor kept playing with her nipples and found himself with a mouth full of it, making him groan pleasedly, when Ona wrapped her arms around his neck and tugged him closer, lost in the onslaught of pleasure Connor’s thumb was making her feel. Thank God he didn’t need to breathe.

Connor kept snapping his hips up, but he was losing his perfect rhythm as he felt his own orgasm approaching. It felt as if every single biocomponent was on fire, burning with electricity that pooled down his groin. Connor chased that euphoric sensation, the slapping of skin against skin echoing inside the locker room and only arousing him more. Ona kept moaning his name as she felt herself be close, bouncing on his lap. Connor knew by the way Ona said his name, breathless and as if she was devoting herself to him, that he could not stop now.

Ona cried out one last time, her nails digging into Connor’s skin as she went still, feeling herself dissolve into a pleasured puddle. Connor followed her, letting go of her nipple and groaning into her feverish skin, feeling her squeeze his cock and milking him dry as he buried himself deep inside her, moaning a mixture of curse words and her name. Their panting felt loud in the now quiet locker room. Connor searched for her lips, whispering a soft “I love you” just before he kissed her reply away, a content and sated feeling washing over him at her “I love you too”.

Killian softly cursed at the mess that trickled down her thighs, the sight right in front of him, as Richard helped her get up after letting her bask in the afterglow on Connor’s arms. Still dazed, Ona let herself be guided by Richard’s hands, using him as support as her legs were threatening to give out. Richard softly kissed her lips, so sweetly at first, just a chaste press where he enjoyed the velvety feel of her lips on his. He kept kissing her slowly, taking her breath away by the passion behind every swipe of his tongue, every nibble. The hand that was on her back slowly made its way down, caressing the naked flesh until Richard squeezed her buttock, making her giggle and prompting her to lift her leg up. Richard’s hand caressed her flesh and held the leg in place while he kept kissing her.

“You are just plain cruel. Both of you.” Killian kept staring, hypnotised. He licked his lips, squeezing his bound fists in frustration. Richard made sure Killian could perfectly see the globs of cum trailing down Ona’s thigh, and like the saucy little minx she was, Ona spread her cheek further, knowing it would only drive Killian up the wall even more. He could see her pleased smirk. “So fucking cruel.”

“You deserve it for being a brat.” Connor spoke from the bench, already tidying himself up and tucking his now soft cock inside his pants. He got up and sat down on the bench Killian was cuffed to. “And for that, you only get to watch.”

“Oh, c’mon! You have to be kidding me!” in his frustration he tugged against Richard’s handcuffs again, which made Connor lean in and coldly warn him.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you. If this is cruel for you, we haven’t even started then.”

Killian swallowed hard at Connor’s phrasing—he didn’t need to swallow at all he was an android for fuck’s sake! But Connor’s angry frown, the freezing cold stare he gave him… Richard was down right terrifying, but Connor knew how to exactly exploit your weaknesses, and right now Killian was his target. Connor distracted him long enough so Killian didn’t see Richard hauling Ona up and walking them to the nearest locker, resting her back on the cold metal. Her pleased groan as Richard filled her echoed around the locker room. Richard chose to undo a few buttons of his shirt earlier and Ona took that opportunity to sneak one of her hands under the layers of clothing Richard wore like armor.

Richard set a fast pace, already too pent up to take it slow. Killian could only watch and listen. The absolutely filthy but arousing squelching sounds of her filled up cunt only served to rile him up further. Ona opened her eyes, her gaze fixed on Killian’s one as she rested her head against Richard’s neck, panting against his exposed skin and sending pleasured shivers down his spine. Killian unconsciously mimicked her, opening slightly his mouth too to help his biocomponents cool down as he panted. After a perfectly spot on thrust from Richard, Ona’s eyes closed as she moaned loudly, biting his skin to quiet herself down. She kissed the abused flesh, apologising for being harsh, but it spurred Richard on, pressing her harder against the locker and thrusting into her with wild abandon. Ona’s legs squeezed his body, a dead give-away of how she was close again. The three androids always made sure to take advantage of Ona being multiorgasmic, and right now it wasn’t an exception. Richard kept pistoning in and out, whispering to her ear all the praises he could think of, and letting gravity help him in filling Ona up. Richard sneaked a hand between them, much like Connor did earlier, and rubbed his fingers against her clit in the same rhythm his hips were snapping into her.

“Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck– I’m so close, so close!” Ona was feeling light-headed, drunk with pleasure. Her nails dug into his jacket hard enough for Richard’s sensors to feel the pressure, mewling softly into his skin, as her other hand gripped his short hair and tugged. That made Richard let out a pleasured grunt as he shoved harder his hips against hers.

Richard jerked his hips a few more times until he went completely still, pressing her body against the locker with his body. He let out a low groan, his big hands squeezing her heated flesh, as Ona came around him, crying out his name. She could feel Richard’s cock pulse inside her, filling her up to the brim and adding more to the mess left by Connor. It was sinfully perfect.

Ona sighed, content and sated. Richard carefully let her down, not missing his chance to run his hands up her legs and caress her ass, holding her close to him when her legs trembled. She couldn’t help but to snicker, resting her sweaty face on Richard’s chest, not believing they sneaked off to have some sort of a sex-marathon in the middle of work hours.

Honestly, it wasn’t the first time it happened. But it still made Ona feel a little bit guilty. Just a little bit.

“Are you alright?” Richard whispered in her ear, kissing her neck as he still held her in his arms.

“My legs feel like jello. And I’m sticky.” Ona didn’t want to look down. “And I need to clean up ASAP.”

Connor and Richard looked at each other, an idea already forming in their heads. They both glanced at Killian, who stared at them back. That wasn’t going to end well for Killian and he knew it. When those two played masterminds and he was the victim, it wasn’t fun. Usually.

“I think someone may be able to help you with the cleaning.” Connor stood up, dusting off his clothes.

“After all, you have been obedient. You deserve a reward.” Richard kept kissing her shoulders, following the trails of freckles.

“Let’s put that tongue to good use, shall we?”

Richard helped Ona walk over Killian, who was eagerly awaiting her with his mouth slightly open and eyes glued to Richard’s cum trickling down her thighs. Killian licked his lips, ready to blow her mind with his devilish tongue. He unconsciously tugged at the handcuffs.

He’d never say it out loud but he fucking loved this.

When Hank finds them later, going on their merry way to join the water-gun fight once again, he completely ignores the red mark on Ona’s neck, having an idea of why they disappeared for so long. Also, Richard forgot to button up the last button of his shirt.

Hank snorted, taking a sip of his beer. Kids. Let them have their fun.

#dbh #detroit become human #rk800 #rk900 #rk800-60 #ficlet #lemon

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welllpthisishappening · 5 years

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Hey. Hello. Hi. I fully came here expecting to request one of those stress-writing prompts that had some sort of mutual pining or something like that, but instead, I find myself asking for #32, which is something along the lines of "a soft smile before leaning in for a kiss." Feel better, be less stressed, I'm sorry you're going through the shit you're going through. 💕💕

You are the best. Honestly. Thank you! Here is just…a copious amount of fluff. The prompt here is, in fact:

32. A soft smile before leaning in for a kiss.

There’s just enough sunlight poking through the curtains to be annoying. It dances on the inside of Emma’s eyelids, finding its way through the comfort of the bed and the small mountain of blankets, an arm slung around her middle that’s equal parts surprising and the complete opposite of that.

This is not the first time they’ve done this.

She’d been tracking this guy for weeks, nights spent in the front seat of her bug with the windows barely cracked so she could hear without also freezing to death and even longer days prowling the sidewalk looking for any trace of him. And it had all paid off the night before, the clack of handcuffs and the sneer on the asshole’s lips almost as good as the check Emma will get later that afternoon.

Almost.

Although getting the check would also mean that she has to get out of bed and she is almost frustratingly comfortable.

It’s a weird string of words.

Mostly because Killian was not at all surprised when she’d slumped against his front door at, approximately, three in the morning, a little sweaty and still a bit out of breath, the straps of her heels hanging from curled fingers.

This is not the first time they’ve done this.

So she’s not going to think about anything else. It’s fine. It’s normal. Tradition, or something, a concerned streak that runs several miles both ways with a very impressive current. Or whatever.

Honestly, whatever.

Emma squirms further under the blankets, ignoring the thoughts and the light, squeezing her eyes closed tighter and she knows the precise moment Killian wakes him. He laughs. Directly in her ear.

“Oh, shut up,” she grumbles, but that only draws more laughter and this is fine. Yes. Fine. Friends do this. They worry. They share a bed. They ignore daylight.

“I did not say a single word, Swan. Well, expect those words.”

“You’re frustrating.”

Killian hums, fingers fluttering dangerously close to the edge of her shirt. His shirt. She showed up in her book em dress that morning. Emma isn’t sure if she imagined the way Killian’s eyes widened when he realized.

This is not the first time they’ve done this.

“And you’re comfortable,” he mutters. “Don’t move.”

“I’ve got to. If I don’t show up by noon August won’t wait and then I’ll be totally screwed for the next two days.”

“One cannot survive on ramen alone, after all.”

“Seriously, this is not helping your frustrating cause.”

He chuckles, a breath of air on the curve of her shoulder. The shirt is too big. And Emma’s not really sure when, exactly, it changes, but she just knows that it does, flipping on her side in a twist of blankets and a pretzel of limbs and, somehow, she didn’t realize Killian was shirtless.

She will blame that, eventually.

And the grin and the glint in his eyes, but mostly the shirtless thing and Emma’s head drops on instinct and want and the several dozen times they’ve done this before. Her lips ghost over his collarbone, not much more than a brush of a touch and Killian freezes.

It’d be insulting if she wasn’t certain she was dying.

Emma’s eyes widen, large enough that they start to water, but that may be something else entirely and–“Oh my God,” she breathes, swallowing back a wad of emotion and embarrassment. “Oh God. That’s…oh my God, oh my God. Shit, shit, shit.”

She leaps up, knocking several pillows on the floor in the process. Killian still hasn’t moved.

“Damn, fuck, damn,” Emma mumbles, darting towards a dresser and drawers where she knows Killian keeps gym shorts and she’s going to steal his shorts. After inadvertently kissing him.

Kind of.

“Where are my shoes?”

“What?”

“My shoes,” Emma repeats. “I…I need shoes. You know what, fuck it. I don’t need shoes. I will get my shoes eventually and–”

He catches her around the wrist, the pad of his thumb pressing lightly against her pulse point and Emma knows he can feel that. Even if he weren’t touching her. It’s like that with them. “Swan,” Killian mutters, a note of something that sounds a hell of a lot like wonder in his voice. “You can’t go outside barefoot, love, you’ll get tetanus.”

“I’m not planning on stepping on any rusty nails or anything.”

Killian scoffs, glancing up from underneath his eyelashes and, that time, Emma freezes, his mouth dragging across the bend of her wrist and the back of her palm, like he’s trying to brand her with feeling and emotion. It’s not all that uncomfortable.

“What is happening right now?” she asks softly, and it’s probably the wrong thing to say. It makes Killian laugh again.

“Nothing I planned on, actually.”

“No?”

“No.”

He stands up, impossibly slow, nudging her away from the bed and Emma is disappointed when he lets go of her hand. She’s less so when he cups her cheek, thumb brushing over skin and half an inch away from the lip she’s got caught between her teeth.

The smile stretches across his face like it belongs there, easy and normal and like he’s simply been waiting for the right moment. Maybe they both have. “You left sandals here when you picked up that skip in July,” Killian says. “Because you hate wearing the heels back out.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s right.”

He nods, smile still obvious when he ducks his head and Emma’s left knee wobbles precariously under her. It doesn’t matter. Killian’s arm circles back around her waist, holding her against his chest and kissing her like they’ve been doing this forever. His lips trace over hers, the tip of his tongue and the feel of his breathing and, suddenly, Emma doesn’t care about the light peeking through curtains she helped him pick out.

It feels like waking up, anyway. In a metaphorical sense.

“I can probably tell August I’ll be late,” she mumbles, and Killian makes a noise that sounds a lot like an agreement, tugging her back towards the bed.

In which I am stressed and writing to relieve it, so send prompts if you want to

#cs ff #captain swan #i seriously adore you guys for sending these prompts #they've been a very good life distraction #thejollyroger-writer #laura rambles

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spartanguard · 5 years

Text

enclosed spaces (A Tall Tail)

HAPPIEST OF BIRTHDAYS TO THE SWEETEST RED VELVET CUPCAKE EVAR, @xpumpkindumplingx!!!!!!!!!!! Being your friend and getting to know you has become one of the best parts of being in this fandom <3 Sending you all the love today, and hope you enjoy this bit of mersmut in honor of the occasion ;)

Summary: Set in the A Tall Tail universe—Emma’s attempt at relaxing in the tub doesn’t go as planned; what does, really, when your true love is a merman with power over water? But maybe it’s more fun to let off stress with him than it alone, anyways. 2.2k | rated very M

Few things gave Emma more pleasure than a hot bath at the end of the day. It was part of why she insisted on replacing the shower in their house with an old-fashioned tub, claw feet and all; it was just so much more comfortable than a built-in tub (and, of course, they still had the rain bath-style shower head for efficiency—and some other things).

After lighting a few scented candles on the counter, the hot water embraced her as she slipped in and settled back against the cool porcelain. God, I could probably fall asleep in here; good thing her cuff was nearby in case she did feel so inclined. But after a long day of dealing with dwarven bullshit, she earned it. Killian was...somewhere in the house, she knew, probably getting dinner ready, or at least a stiff drink.

So she closed her eyes, leaned her head back, cast a quick spell to keep the water warm, and let bliss find her.

Until she felt a tickle. Right on a fairly sensitive part on her chest. That’s weird. But it was probably just a random reflex as she relaxed, right?

She ignored it...until it happened again, across the other nipple. It was by no means an unfamiliar sensation, but it was usually instigated by outside forces, not an involuntary spasm.

And then the same invisible touch grazed her clit, a hidden stream within the water headed straight for her most delicate area. What the hell? It felt amazing, drawing a moan of pleasure from her, but that didn’t solve the mystery.

However, the small whirlpool in the tub that caught her eye certainly did.

“Killian!”

She was panting with arousal when he finally arrived. “What is it, love?” The complete lack of urgency in his demeanor, and the casual way he leaned against the doorjamb while smirking, were all the answer she needed.

Her hands were gripping the curved edges of the tub as she bit out, “Seriously?”

“Whatever are you talking about, my darling?”

She tried to glare at him, but it was hard to when he was looking so self-satisfied—and when the water’s pace picked up again, making her gasp. Damn, that feels good; tension within was quickly mounting.

“I just thought you’d like to really relax and enjoy your bath, love,” Killian admitted. His voice got louder as he drew nearer, and when she managed to open her eyes, he was leering over her.

“I don’t think getting me keyed up is really all that relaxing,” she replied, breathily. “Besides—I’d rather have you.”

“Oh, you would?”

She didn’t reply—not verbally, at least. Two can play this game. With a subtle flick of her wrist, the button-up and jeans Killian had been wearing disappeared, leaving him stark naked; even the brace of his hook was gone.

A devilish grin took over Killian’s face, sending more heat to where she was already achingly aroused. “Well, then,” he murmured, and covered the last couple of steps to the bath, giving her a perfect view of his manhood.

He didn’t stop at the edge of the tub, no—he climbed right in. She tried to protest as water quickly ran over the side and onto the tile below, but he simply used his magic to siphon it all into the sink via a graceful, twirling arc of water across the room.

Smoothly, he sank onto his knees and settled his weight carefully across her thighs, bracing his arms on the rim of the tub and hovering over her. “So how exactly would you rather have me, Swan?” he breathed, inches from her face.

Her hands settled on his trim waist under the water, then traced up his abs and chest, wetting the hair there, until they wrapped around his neck and gently brought his face close enough to kiss.

It started slow and sweet, and she could taste the rum and a bit of salt water from his earlier swim on his lips. His hand and wrist drifted down as he leaned forward a bit more, his tongue slipped between her lips, and he pulled her up closer to him, bringing them chest-to-chest. She gasped into the kiss as her sensitive nipples brushed against his soft chest hair.

His blunted wrist held her tight around her waist while his hand found its way to one of her breasts, gently caressing her skin and then grazing a taut nipple in the small space between them.

He paused there only a moment before drawing a trail of heat down her side to where she truly needed him; god, it feels like I’m burning alive. For a moment, she swore she could feel the water boiling—until she realized that was just Killian, adding steady streams of bubbles to the water.

His nimble fingers slid in between her slightly parted thighs and drew a careful stripe against her folds, making her shiver. So he did it again, and a few more times before finally dipping a finger inside.

She broke the kiss with a moan, and Killian rested his forehead against hers. “I’ve got you, love,” he murmured as stroked inside her. Even as she arched her pelvis up at the movement of his hand, she felt secure in his hold.

He kept it up, gently but firmly working her closer and closer to a peak, eventually adding another finger and starting to suck at the sensitive spot behind her ear. Emma’s hand that wasn’t holding onto him for dear life found her breast, massaging and tweaking in search of some sort of relief.

Ugh, I’m so close. But the tension continued to coil for a few moments longer, until Killian’s broad thumb finally found its way to her clit, adding the extra pressure she needed to finish unwinding; she came with a loud gasp.

He continued to guide her through the aftershocks, and the bubbles he’d made felt like heaven across her stimulated skin. When she was finally able to open her eyes again, it wasn’t to the seductive smirk that had greeted her earlier, but to the soft look of adoration and care that only came out in their softer moments.

“Is that better, then?” he asked quietly.

“Much,” she answered simply, then placed another kiss on his lips. “But what are we going to do about this now?” She reached in between him and carefully grabbed his erection, which had been pressed against her stomach as she came down from her high.

His breath hitched in her grasp. “I—I suppose we should take this to another location, shouldn’t we?” he proposed, and she could see how much darker his eyes were.

“I don’t think we have to,” she answered, summoning her cuff to her hand.

A slow smile took over his features when he saw what she held. The wry grin was back. “If you insist.”

Two quick movements and another large splash of water later, Killian’s cuff was off and Emma’s was on. The gold of his tail took on a more burnished look in the dim light of the bathroom but was no less breathtaking.

“So...bloody...beautiful,” he expressed, punctuating the statement with kisses to her neck. Her tail looked a bit more emerald in the candle light, but she still didn’t see how she could compare to him.

Almost reverently, she brushed his fringe from his face and found his lips again, slowly stoking the heat that was constantly simmering between them. There was no need to rush this time, so they let the excitement build on its own.

Killian moved a bit to change the angle, sliding more on top of her, but ended up pressing her fully under water. They both froze for a moment at the sudden change, and Emma’s human brain couldn’t compute for a long second. Until—you’re a mermaid, idiot! Keep kissing your merman! She just grinned at him from their spot below the surface and then pulled him back to her. Obviously, she was used to being under water, but being in such a confined space and not the wide-open ocean was a different kind of intimate.

His hand wandered a bit, but settled at her waist, where skin met scale and his thumb was brushing between the two. That is, it was when he wasn’t shivering at the way she lightly scratched at his back and chest. The fact that she could draw that reaction from when the water felt near-scalding in these cold-blooded forms said a lot.

Okay, enough play time—I need more. She was craving friction, but he was floating just enough away from her that there was none to be had. It probably made a mess, but that was the last thing on her mind as she flipped her fin up and around his tail and pressed the bulge of his arousal against the sensitive spot low on her abdomen. He stopped mid-kiss to moan and drop his head to her shoulder; perfect.

“That’s usually my trick,” he muttered.

“Then maybe you should have done it sooner,” she breathed back, squeezing him tighter to create the movement she so needed. The pressure on her clit felt incredible and she closed her eyes in that small moment of bliss.

“If you needed it so badly, why didn’t you say so?” He was whispering into her ear and then took the lead a bit, thrusting forward until her rear end was laying on the bottom of the shallow tub.

“I—I—” she stammered as he started to move more, gentle pulses against her core.

“Say it, love,” he purred, pressing a bit harder before starting to suck at her pulse point.

“I—I need you, Killian,” she finally managed to blurt out.

He pulled back from her neck in a move that would have had a pop above water, but was silent below. And then he hovered over her, pupils wide with lust, before pushing her tail down with his to create a bit of space between them. He was only inches away, but it may as well have been miles with how much she was aching to have him inside her.

Wordlessly and needlessly slowly, he pulled his cock out from where it was barely hidden and gave it a few strokes; she could see his breath hitch a bit at his own touch—and, honestly, that just makes me need him even more.

Then, in a well-rehearsed motion, he found her hard-to-find entrance and slid in, stilling once he was fully sheathed. Oh, yes. It was certainly a different feeling, having that on the front of her body versus more toward the center, but any connection with him was amazing.

After a long moment of just enjoying being together, she got antsy again and pressed up, making water slosh over the edge. But if Killian cared now, he didn’t show it, and instead just pressed down, dragging himself a bit against her inner walls. Yes—that’s what I need; but it still wasn’t enough.

It took a bit to find their rhythm in the confined space, but they eventually settled into one, pressing and pushing up and down, tails coiled tight against the other’s and Emma’s grip on his back straining her muscles. All around them, the water gradually filled with bubbles as Killian approached his climax; Emma wasn’t sure if it was just the stars in her own eyes, but it also looked like rain was coming down on them.

But then nothing really registered but the feel of Killian in and on top of her as she drew closer and closer to her peak again. It was like the water was a second skin around them, embracing and encouraging them as they chased release together and she was close, so close—come on, just—right—THERE.

With a gasp, she fell over the edge into pure euphoria, aware of nothing but the emotional high of her orgasm and Killian’s coolness in opposition to the frothy, fiery water around them. A moment later, he stilled as he too finished, a distant shout ringing in her ears, and then everything faded into a blissful nothing.

When she came to, she felt unbelievably loose and relaxed, nothing more than a bit of seafoam floating away. (But without all the tragedy of Hans Christian Andersen’s original mermaid story.) Killian was still wrapped around her, head tucked in the crook of her neck as his breath returned to normal.

“So, my love,” he started. “Feeling better now?”

“Much,” she sighed, and wrapped her arms around him a bit tighter. “Although I’m not looking forward to cleaning up the mess we just made in the bathroom.” It was nearly dark in the room, so they must have put the candles out, too.

He shrugged. “It’ll dry.”

She just giggled back; he won’t be saying that when he comes out of his post-coital high. But she wasn’t about to complain.

And she definitely didn’t tell him that the shower had come on at some point.

Instead, she just watched as it rained down above them and held her amazing merman close, then settled into the kind of rest you could only get when you were completely at peace.

Hope you enjoy your day, love!

tagging some more mermates: @initiala mermates: @kat2609 @cocohook38 @optomisticgirl @thesschesthair @shipsxahoy @clockadile @kmomof4 @snowbellewells@sherlockianwhovian @branlovestowrite @wordsmith-storyweaver @wingedlioness@annytecture @whimsicallyenchantedrose @ilovemesomekillianjones @flipperbrain@wyntereyez @word-bug @laschatzi @ive-always-been-a-pirate @pirateherokillian@bleebug @its-imperator-furiosa @queen-mabs-revenge

#cs ff #mermaid!killian #mermaid!cs smut #cs smut #my #Happy Birthday #xpumpkindumplingx #a tall tail #my ff

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froggonoboggo · 4 years

Note

Answer all the OC questions Erika. D O I T

Alright then! lol I’ll do Persedimun Rigas as he is currently in the rp thread I have with my friends🌹 Where in the world does your OC feel most at home? Is there any reason why? If it’s not the place they were born, where were they born? Is there a certain somebody that makes them feel at home where ever they may be? What does home mean to them?

Percy feels most at home on his farm and anywhere in the ocean. He made the farm his own after he had been in hiding for centuries, and as a water dragon, he and the ocean are one. Percy was born up north somewhere deep in the ocean but left when he was old enough to separate from his family. There is absolutely someone who makes him feel at home, and home to him means somewhere he feels safe, happy, and can just be himself without holding anything back.🍄 What are your OCs favourite snacks? Their favourite comfort food which always cheers them up when they’re down? Favourite meal to make? Do they enjoy baking and cooking and are they any good in the kitchen?Percy has a sweet tooth and he’s not picky either, the man will eat about anything you give him. He’s also a big fan of soup, and any soup he can fix up is his go to in order to cheer him up, the same goes for favorite meal to make. He adores baking and cooking and he’ll tell you that he’s alright in the kitchen.

🍁 Where does your OC go when they need to have some time to themself? Would they ever have their own “comfort corner” filled with all the things they like? Do they have a favourite spot outside that feels like its theirs and theirs alone?

Percy doesn’t have many places to escape to, due to needing to keep himself inconspicuous from higher beings, and he doesn’t need to for the most part because his safe place is on the farm. If that place is compromised he disappears into the ocean for awhile.

🍂 Does your OC enjoy hugs? What do they do as a show of affection for: their friends, their family, their significant other(s) or for strangers? Over all what are they like with recieving affection from others?

He adores hugs and will readily give them out whenever it is needed. For friends and family he shows the same type of affection for both. He’s a very touchy guy, lots of pats and jokes, always ready to do something for them. The same goes for significant others actually, but more kisses involved, hand holding, and lingering touches. Does not hold back from PDA. For strangers he’s less involved with the touches. Percy loves receiving affection, and depending on what it is, may become bashful.

🌻 What little things do they notice about people or the world around them that make them happy? What tiny little treasures do they find in the normal every day that makes the world seem a little brighter for them?

Percy is a bit of a cheesy sap, and smiles and laughter really brings him in. The sounds of happiness really strikes him. The soft eyes of his cows, his dog, and the soft pattering of rain calms him.

🌾 Describe your OC through the eyes of someone absolutely head-over-heels in love with them

Persedimun is warm and soft, as well as a big boy who’s chest serves as the best pillow. He’s super goofy, adventurous, caring, and has incredibly kind eyes and gives the best hugs. Percy is a cheesy romantic and its adorable, his hands are rough but they hold what they cherish so delicately and tenderly, with every ounce of love and admiration he has to offer. He’ll hang on to every word you say and will say your voice is one of his favorite sounds.

💐 How does your OC handle being unwell or forced to rest in bed? Who cares for them and in what ways? Does your OC enjoy being doted on or are they a terrible patient? Reversed: is your OC good at taking care of others who are ill or in need?

He’s not particularly a fan of being sick and he’s usually the one who takes care of himself, since he was a rogue dragon for a long time and he’s also by himself for the most part. He does, to an extent, like to be doted on, though he’d rather do the doting to the ones he cares about himself. He’s an excellent caretaker and usually stays by their side unless asked otherwise.

🌿 What way does your OC show that they care without using words? What way do others show your OC that they’re cared about without using speech?

As stated above, he shows that he cares about someone by always being willing to help them out, no matter what he’s doing or may want to do. Percy likes to take care of people. He also likes to give gifts, things that remind them of someone or he creates something.

🌳 What is your OC’s favourite way to relax after a stressful day? Do they have a favourite book to curl up with? A hobby? Or do they have a nice bubble bath and have an early night to bed?

He draws, paints, or naps, for the most part. If he could, he’d morph into his dragon form, hop into the ocean and sun himself on the surface like crocodiles do. Or he sits under a tree in the field, surrounded by cows and sheep and just looks out across the moors and into the trees, perhaps doodling. Percy’s an artist, and likes creating paintings or sketching, perhaps writing as well.

🌲 How deeply does your OC feel? Are they typically empathetic or do they have a hard time connecting with others in this way? What are they like when offering support and comfort to someone they care for?

Persedimun cares perhaps too much, sometimes. He’s incredibly empathetic and sympathetic, always available to lend a hand and help someone, whether it be an innocent bystander or someone they care about. Him caring about the wellbeing of his people led him to where he is now, shamed and hiding in the middle of Scotland by himself.

🌺 What does your OC do to calm down when they’re scared or after a nightmare? Do they have any special comfort items or need to be reassured by a specific person? How do they handle this if they’re alone?

He usually stays up, gets out of bed and just looks outside and thinks to himself. Or he’ll go outside and listen to the sounds of the night, sit on the porch and just contemplate. He’s not too keen on asking other for help in this situation, and usually deals with it by himself unless they find out. He will accept help at that point, and contact is great at calming him down.

🌸 What are some of their favourite things and why? List as many as you can think of!

Naps, eating, shiny and pretty things, painting, the ocean, rain and storms, cows, being cozy and warm, sweaters, animals in general actually, flowers (specifically gladiolus).

🥀 How would your OC decorate a notebook or journal? What kind of things are written in there? Could you give an example of a nice entry?

If he can, will doodle on the cover and within as well. Would write about random thoughts and rambling, notes about what he’s learned about his curse, notes about his art, things for him to remember and things he does remember because if he’s not careful with his protection spells or forgets to bring his charm, he’ll slowly forget things that he should remember. An example of a nice entry would just be him rambling some random fact he learned today from one of his friends and a silly doodle at the end.

🌼 Who are this characters friends and found family? How did they meet, how long have they been friends for, could they ever be something more than just friends? What do they look for in a friend or a romantic partner?

Percy’s new friends would be Matteo, Artemis, and Killian, who belong to @sanguinemori @cacticouture and @technologicalnoiz respectively. As it currently stands in the thread, the closest Percy is to any of them is Matteo. They technically first encountered each other in a seedy bar when some werewolf decided to insult Matteo’s sister and Matteo pulled a sword on him. Percy interceded before things got too crazy, as well as the other two. They haven’t known each other for long, but their chemistry is perfect, and there is definitely a chance that they could be more than just friends.

What he looks for in a partner and in a friend is not much different from each other. He loves to hang out with adventurous people, people who know how to get rowdy and have fun, people who can be as goofy as him and don’t mind that he tends to ramble about things that sometimes don’t matter. And people who care, who are warm.

💫What is your favourite fact about this character and why?

My favorite fact about Percy is that when he became a god he was like “fuck hanging out and hiding in the clouds, I’m staying right here and interacting with my worshippers as if they were family and helping them directly” and I love that because how easy would it be if you were some guy in ancient Greece and you could just walk over and ask your local dragon god if he could make it rain since your crops aren’t getting enough water and he’s like “yeah no problem dude” and then it just happens. No middleman, no catch, nothing, just straight up answered.

☄️ Does this OC deserve better treatment from you? Do you make them suffer just a little bit too much? Be nice to them!

As of right now, his backstory takes the brunt of the suffering, but hey, there’s always room for more >:)

🌠 On a scale of 1 - 10 how Baby is your OC?

on a scale of 1-10, Percy falls on a 6. He is baby to me, but I’m not actually sure how much baby.

💦 If you as the writer could erase one traumatic event from this OC’s life what would it be and why?

His rebellion caused a whole string of traumatic events, just one after another, but I’d take away him losing his first friends, where they were captured, stripped of their godhood and are now being tormented. Percy didn’t deserve to lose them, and there could’ve been a very high chance they all made it out alive. The man would probably be in a better place if he still had their support.

God this is a lot, sorry about this but those are all the asks Aary XDD as you requested! I had a lot of fun doing this!

#oc stuff #long post #aaryvark #asks

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wistfulcynic · 5 years

Text

Another Brick In The Wall: Chapter 14

It’s the end! I can’t believe it. This story that started out as a snotty protest against high school AUs somehow ended as my second longest MC and something that I’ve immensely enjoyed writing. It's been so interesting imagining these characters and the events of their lives through this lens, I just hope in the end I've done them justice. Thank you all so much for reading it, and for your lovely comments, without them this story probably wouldn't have happened. Love you all ❤️❤️❤️

Tags for: @darkcolinodonorgasm @jennjenn615 @hollyethecurious @resident-of-storybrooke @kmomof4 @bonbonpirate

Chapter 14:

Nine and a half years after the morning after her senior prom, Emma arrived home at the end of another exhausting day to find a thick cream envelope in her mail slot addressed to “Dr Emma Swan-Jones.” The Storybrooke High seal was pressed into the flap, and Emma knew immediately what it was.

She sifted through the bills and junk mail seaching for another envelope, addressed to Killian. There wasn’t one. Perhaps that wasn’t surprising, though, she reasoned. He hadn’t technically graduated with her, just passed his AP exams and gone on his way.

When Killian came home half an hour later she was sitting at the kitchen table, staring at the card the envelope had contained with a small scowl. He gave her a quizzical look and she handed it to him, without comment. He looked at it and laughed. “Of course,” he said. “The final stage in the American high school drama. The one wherein we return to the old alma mater, triumphantly to lord our brilliant success over the poor sods we went to school with.” He sat down across from her and handed the card back. “I suppose you’ll want to go?”

Emma shrugged. “I don’t know. Do we have any brilliant success to lord over anyone?” That afternoon she had given expert testimony in the trial of a sixteen year old boy accused of sexually assaulting his twelve year old sister. He’d been acquitted. The girl had grabbed Emma’s hand and begged her with terrified eyes not to make her go back home. But there had been no other option. Watching that poor child be herded away by her parents had made Emma feel precisely the opposite of brilliantly successful.

Killian gave her the soft, sympathetic look he always gave when he could tell she’d had a particularly bad day, and reached out to take her hand. “‘Brilliant’ may be too strong a word, but we’re certainly well on our way to where we want to be,” he said. “Don’t you think so, love?”

Killian was a junior professor, teaching all the hours God sent while simultanously participating in a major research project and writing the book he hoped would get him tenure. She was a forensic psychologist with the Boston PD, handed all the worst, most difficult cases by her superiors, coming home each day exhausted and ready to weep for humanity. They lived on the ground floor of a draughty old house that they paid way too much rent for, trying to save for a down payment on their own place, which at the rate they were going would only take about thirty years provided Boston house prices remained at their current stratospheric levels. She had wrinkles on her forehead now that didn’t smooth out when she stopped frowning and last week she had found a grey hair. Were they where they wanted to be?

She looked at her husband. The years had certainly been kind to him. His lanky frame had filled out and he had grown into his face, which was now covered with stubble from the thick beard he was usually too busy or tired to shave regularly. The scruff suited him, though. Everything suited him. Killian at seventeen had been a cute boy with eyes a bit too big and limbs a touch too long, teetering just on the precipice of his potential; Killian at twenty-seven was breathtaking.

She realised he was waiting for an answer to his question. “I guess. I don’t know. Oh, I can’t think about things like that now, I’m in too much of a mood.”

Keeping hold of her hand he stood and pulled her up into his arms, wrapping them tightly around her and stroking her hair. She sighed as she leaned against his solid, comforting form, drawing strength from his presence.

“Rough day?” he asked.

“When isn’t it?” she replied, unable to keep the frustration from her voice.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

She shook her head as much as she could with her face buried in his shoulder. “Not really. Maybe later. Right now I just want to sit and do something mindless. Just not think for a while.”

Killian kissed her gently on her hair and then on her lips. “Why don’t you find something on Netflix and I’ll pour us some wine,” he said.

She nodded and went into the living room, collapsing on the sofa and putting her feet up on the coffee table. Killian hated when she did that, but sometimes she wanted to stretch out, she thought grumpily.

“Anything you want for dinner?” he called from the kitchen.

“No, just whatever.” She picked up the remote and began scrolling aimlessly through the options.

He joined her a few minutes later, handing her a large glass of red wine and sitting down next to her, sighing as he did. He looked pointedly at her feet, but said nothing. She felt a brief flare of guilt. His days were hard too. She took her feet off the table and curled them under her as she tucked herself against his side and he put an arm around her.

“I think ‘whatever’ is going to be pasta and a salad tonight,” he said, kissing the top of her head.

“That sounds fine. What do you want to watch?”

“Oh, whatever,” he teased, using his ‘American’ accent. She gave him a small slap, rolling her eyes.

“The Good Place?”

“Yeah, go on then.”

It was a show they’d watched a hundred times, but after their stressful days they needed some comfort viewing. They watched two episodes as they drank their wine, then Killian went to make dinner and Emma checked her email. Five messages from her boss already, and she’d barely left work two hours ago. On a Friday. Firmly she closed the app and turned her phone upside down on the table. She’d deal with work later. Now she was going to have dinner with her husband and enjoy his company.

They chatted about odds and ends as they ate, the everyday, random subjects that are common in long-term relationships.

“By the way, you never answered my question, love,” said Killian, after a short silence.

“Hmm? What question?” Emma twirled pasta around her fork.

“Do you want to go to the reunion?”

She frowned. She’d forgotten about it, and wasn’t sure she wanted to open the subject again. “Eh, I don’t know,” she said. “I guess it might be nice to see some people again. We don’t really do any visiting when we go back to SB.”

They went back regularly of course, to see Liam and Belle, who were married now with three small children, and her parents, who had a small child of their own— a surprise baby (very surprising, Snow had laughed) called Leo, who was now eight. But their trips were usually over holidays and they were so busy with their families, nieces and nephews and baby brothers, that they didn’t take much time to see old friends, especially since Ruby had moved to China and hardly ever came back.

“I’ll leave it up to you,” said Killian. “I was only at that school for a year, and everyone I really came to care about I still see frequently. Even Whale, who I in fact see far too much of for anyone’s liking.”

Against all odds Killian and Victor had remained friends of a sort and since Victor had moved to Boston three years earlier they went out together fairly regularly, though from what Killian said they spent most of that time bickering and needling at each other. Still, they seemed to enjoy it.

By the time Emma and Killian had finished eating and cleaned up the kitchen it was past nine and their eyelids were drooping. “Do you want to watch anything else?” asked Killian.

“No,” said Emma, around an enormous yawn. “Let’s just go to bed.”

She was so old, she thought. In bed by ten on a Friday night. But it was better than falling asleep on the sofa five minutes into a movie.

They brushed their teeth and washed their faces, then got undressed and before putting on pajamas they wrapped themselves around each other as they did every night, sharing a deep kiss as they each mentally played a round of the debating game they called “Are We Too Knackered For Sex Or Not?”

To her surprise, Emma discovered that her answer was “Or Not.” She was exhausted, mentally and physically, but as much as she wanted to sleep she wanted to feel that closeness with Killian even more, wanted the warmth and comfort that she always felt when making love with him. Wanted proof that human relationships could be positive, nurturing things, not like that hellishly twisted nightmare family she’d seen today. Sometimes she felt that without her loving marriage, without Killian’s unwavering support, doing her job might come at the expense of her mental health.

She signalled her intent by letting her hand slide down his back to cup his ass and pull his hips into hers, rocking her own against him.

He hummed against her mouth. “So it’s an Or Not for you, then?” he murmured.

“Yeah. You?”

“I’m certain I can summon the energy to ravish you, love,” he growled, hoisting her up against him. She shrieked and wrapped her legs around his waist, laughing as he tumbled them both onto their bed.

Later, Emma lay with her head on Killian’s chest, listening to his heartbeat and the soft flow of his breath as he slept. She was tired in a more pleasant way now, sated and content and much more at peace than she had felt earlier, yet still she couldn’t sleep. Her fingers sifted through the abundant hair on his chest, one of her favourite things to touch, and she remembered with a smile the first night she’d spent in his arms. How she’d woken on that shining morning to the thought of how hairy he’d be one day. He had surpassed her expectations on that front. On most fronts, honestly.

She indulged in more memories of that morning, of the two of them eating pancakes and bacon on the boat, laughing, talking about nothing, getting lost in each other’s eyes. They had been so in love, so happy. So full of bright optimism for the future. They’d thought they had it all figured out.

A decade later they weren’t any less in love. If anything their feelings had only deepened and strengthened as their relationship matured. But life had not turned out to be quite as easy as they had envisioned it in that sparkling memory. She supposed it never really did.

She thought about going to the Storybrooke High reunion, seeing the people she hadn’t seen since graduation. People she had ruled back then as Storybrooke’s princess, shallow and carefree, beloved and ever so slightly feared. People who had remained in the small town they’d been born in while she had moved to New York, travelled far and wide with Killian, seen and done so much that had changed her, then finally settled into a job that exhausted and depressed her even as every day reinforced her conviction that what she did was essential work, helping people as much as anything could. What would Storybrooke think of its princess now?

Human nature being what it was, she of course wondered sometimes about the life she could have had if she’d returned after college as her mother had wished. What she would have ended up doing, who she would have been with? Would Killian really have returned with her, given up his own future for her? Even odder to imagine, what would have become of her if she’d never met Killian at all? He was such an integral part of her existence, her husband, her best friend, the love of her life, that she was literally unable to imagine herself without him. Had Killian never come to Storybrooke Emma would have grown up to be a wholly different person, one unrecognisable to the person she actually was. Whether she would have been happy in that other reality, in her ignorance both of true love and of the frustrations of the life she’d chosen, she couldn’t say. All she knew was that despite everything she was happy in this one.

Killian shifted in his sleep, his hand sliding over the bare skin of her hip and onto her lower belly as he unconsciously cuddled her closer. Her skin tingled in its wake with the low-level arousal always ignited by even his lightest touch. He was the only man she’d ever slept with, something her friends hadn’t hesitated to tease her about over the years, like it was something they thought she would be ashamed of. But Emma always just laughed, letting the mockery roll off her back. She was more than satisfied with her sex life, certain that she wasn’t missing anything she couldn’t do without. In fact, hearing her friends’ stories of unsatisfying one-nighters and awkward morning-afters and the challenges of dating in the modern world just made her even more grateful for Killian, who still looked at her like she was the centre of his universe and whose hands on her never failed to send sparks dancing across her skin even after ten years together. Why would she want to go out looking for meaningless sex with men whose faces she would barely remember just for the sake of “wider experience” when she had the sexiest man she’d ever seen already in her bed, waiting to worship her and pleasure her and love her? Why go out for hamburger, as the saying goes, when you have steak at home?

Though she’d be lying if she didn’t admit, if only to herself, how deeply she’d enjoyed the look on her college friends’ faces when they’d met him for the first time. After all the teasing she’d endured about her boyfriend who was actually a boy and about her turning down men old enough to buy her alcohol for the sake of a boy who wasn’t even eighteen yet, she had revelled in their shock, their disbelief, and yes, their outright envy. He’s mine, bitches, she remembed thinking, with her newfound college-student affinity for swearing. And you can suck it.

“All right, all right,” Tiana had said. “I get it now. You’re a dark horse, Emma Swan.”

“Does he have a brother?” Ariel had asked innocently.

Maintaining their relationship during their college years had, she realised now, been pretty easy. Alhough at first they had struggled with the distance, as they’d settled into college life and found their friends and routines and formed a routine for their relationship, texting throughout the day and FaceTiming in the evenings, they had learned to handle it. She’d missed him, of course, as he had her, but they’d always visited each other without fail twice a month, the only exception being during finals when they needed the time to study and didn’t wish to spend it on the train. Their winter and summer breaks had also been spent together, first in Storybrooke and later in either New York or Boston, working summer internships to help them get a leg up in their future careers.

After graduation, Killian fulfilled his promise to go to Oxford for three years of graduate study while Emma, hating the idea of being so far away from him for so long, had impulsively applied for a master’s programme at the London School of Economics and to her surprise been accepted.

“It’s for social and cultural psychology, which isn’t directly applicable to what I want to do,” she said. “But it sounds fascinating and it’ll give me a broader understanding of the field which can only be an advantage. And I should be able to start a PhD immediately when it’s finished.”

“I can’t say I’d be sorry to have you near,” said Killian. “I haven’t been back to the UK in five years, I’m a bit apprehensive about it. And of course not having an ocean between us is never a bad thing.”

Emma of course had never been to the UK at all, and so they took three weeks before the start of their courses to travel around the country, everywhere except London and Oxford, as they had agreed that every time they got together (trading visits every two weeks as they’d done in college) they would do one touristy thing, reasoning that this ought to give them enough time to see the major sights of both cities during Emma’s year-long programme.

Because life was insane and coincidences were real they actually ran into Milah one afternoon in Lincoln’s Inn Fields. It was early November and they were sitting on the grass enjoying an unseasonable bout of warmth and sunshine when Killian suddenly went stiff as a board, drawing in his breath sharply.

“What is it?” asked Emma, concerned, following the trajectory of his gaze to a tall woman with long, dark hair tumbling down her back in wild curls who was walking along the path nearest them, a cell phone at her ear.

“That’s her. Milah.” Killian’s voice was strained.

“Really?” Emma leaned forward for a better look.

“Yeah.” Killian’s hand tightened in hers, squeezing her fingers painfully. “Don’t stare, I don’t want to catch her attention.”

“Are you sure? We could go talk to her, if you want.”

“Definitely not.”

“It might be good, Killian, to talk about—”

“No, love, please. I’ve worked hard to put it behind me, I don’t want to dredge up old emotions that are best left in the past.”

She snuggled closer into his side. “As you wish,” she said, stealing his line, and he smiled and kissed her. When they looked up again, Milah had gone.

That night when they made love there was something almost frantic in the way he held her and touched her and thrust deep within her, as though he needed her to anchor him in the place he wanted to remain. Normally their lovemaking was very much a pair activity, but that night Emma lay back and let him take what he needed, knowing that his fingers would leave bruises on her soft skin but that she would never reproach him for them. And when he clung to her in the aftermath and she felt his tears dampen her hair she held him close and whispered that she loved him and always would, soothing him until he slept.

The next morning he was lighter than she’d ever seen him, smiling brightly as they did their touristy thing —a trip on the London Eye this time— laughing freely when she held tightly to his jacket at the top, wrapping her securely in his arms. “I’ll never let you fall, Emma,” he murmured in her ear, and she smiled. She wouldn’t let him fall, either. She hadn’t, and she never would.

When she saw him off on the train back to Oxford that evening she knew that he had left Milah and the trauma of his past behind, completely. Finally. He was free.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Killian awoke the next morning Emma was still asleep, curled up on her side and snoring lightly in the way he’d always found adorable. She still had shadows under her eyes but her face was relaxed and peaceful, which eased some of his worry about her state of mind. When Emma was particularly stressed she frowned even in her sleep, so her soft expression was a good sign. He hated seeing her so strung out but knew there was little he could do to help. It was simply her nature. She was incapable of not getting emotionally invested in the people she counselled; she cared about them and took it very hard when she wasn’t able to give them the help they needed. He couldn’t change that, nor did he really want to; her generous heart was one of the things he loved most about her. All he could really do was just be there, just offer his support and listen whenever she was ready to talk.

He stroked her cheek with his thumb and kissed her softly on the forehead, and when she didn’t waken he slid carefully from the bed, pulling on his old Harvard sweatpants as quietly as he could. She seemed pretty deeply asleep and frankly, he thought, she could use the rest. It wasn’t often she had a chance to sleep in, even on a Saturday, but today, he silently decreed, she would. She would sleep late, and when she awoke he would have breakfast waiting for her.

Pancakes, he thought. We haven’t had those in ages. And bacon. Like they’d had the morning after the prom. He smiled to himself at the memory, one that hadn’t crossed his mind in years. So many good things had happened since that when it came to happy memories he had a true embarrassment of riches, and sometimes things got lost in the shuffle. The arrival of the reunion invite had it seemed shuffled them to the fore again.

Although he could certainly understand Emma’s reluctance to go to her high school reunion and be faced with having either to hide or to explain the stresses and frustrations of the life she’d chosen to people who already struggled to understand why she’d chosen it, Killian knew she wouldn’t change a thing about their life, as he wouldn’t. All things considered they had been almost unbelievably fortunate. Finding the love of your life at sixteen or seventeen was vanishingly rare; even rarer was that relationship surviving years of separation, the stress of pursuing advanced degrees and of working long hours for low pay and little appreciation, and actually growing stronger with each new challenge thrown at it. He was immensely grateful for the last ten years with her and for all the years they had to come, for the children they hoped some day to have, for the life they would continute to build together. All they needed was each other, the rest of it—the jobs, the kids, the house— would work itself out. And if those things never came then they’d still be happy because they’d be together.

Feeling cheerful at the prospect of surprising Emma with a nice breakfast, Killian opened the refrigerator, only to discover that that they had no bacon. And no milk. Sighing, he quickly peeked into the bedroom to check that Emma was still sound asleep, then tossed on his jacket, zipping it securely as he wasn’t wearing a shirt, and slipped from the house as quietly as possible. Twenty minutes later he was back, armed with bacon, milk, and some good coffee, plus chocolate chips for the pancakes. Emma permitted him to feed her healthy food these days as long as he prepared it, but she still held on to her childhood preference for sickly sweet breakfasts. He mixed the pancake batter and set it aside to rest while he cooked the bacon and then finally put the coffee on. Breakfast was nearly ready, and if anything would lure Emma out of bed it was the smell of good coffee.

Sure enough she appeared in the kitchen moments later, wearing an old t-shirt of his and rubbing her eyes sleepily. “Is that the Guatemalan coffee I smell?” she asked, “I thought we’d run out.”

“I went to the store. It’s been a while since we’ve had a nice breakfast, and you seemed like you could use it.”

She came up behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist as he tested the heat of the griddle and poured out the first batch of pancakes. “God, I love you,” she said against the bare skin over his shoulder blade.

“I hope you’re not just saying that because I got chocolate chips for the pancakes,” he teased, picking up the bag to show her before sprinking a generous handful over half the batch.

“Well, I can’t deny that’s a major factor,” she replied, deadpan.

“I knew it.”

She gave a light laugh and squeezed him tightly before heading for the coffee maker. “It’s ready,” she said. “Do you want a cup now?”

“Yeah, please.” Killian deftly flipped the pancakes. “These’ll be done in a minute, you go sit down and I’ll bring it all in when it’s ready.”

Emma poured coffee for both of them and took their cups to the table. Sitting, she sipped at hers, letting the rich flavour and the caffeine kick both soothe and jolt her into full consciousness. She’d nearly finished the cup when Killian placed a generous stack of pancakes in front of her, oozing melted chocolate and accompanied by a pile of bacon. She laughed, the first free, happy laugh he’d heard from her in far too long.

“Are there three of me?” she asked.

“Now, darling, don’t pretend that you can’t, or won’t, eat all of that yourself,” he said, refilling her coffee cup. “Need I remind you of the Naples Pizza Incident?”

“I was twenty three then!” she protested, “The calories burned off a lot faster in those days.”

“It was only five years ago, love, not fifty.”

“It feels longer,” she said, the grim mood falling back onto her face.

He sat down and picked up his fork, deliberately casual. “Do you want to talk about it?”

She nodded. “Yeah, I think I’m ready.”

As they ate she told him about the case, the testimony she’d given, how her best efforts had seemed to make no difference, and how she’d had to send a traumatised little girl right back into the same terrible situation she thought she’d escaped.

“That fucking judge, he cared more about ‘ruining the future’ of the brother than about protecting a little girl from a predator,” she fumed. “Of course a sexual assault conviction would ruin his future, it should.” She took a large bite of pancake, chewed and swallowed before continuing. “I think the worst thing was that the smug little shit knew there wouldn’t be any consequences for him. His parents knew what was going on, they did nothing. The judge did nothing. What’s even the point of a justice system if it doesn’t protect the people who most need protecting?” She bit down on a piece of bacon with a vicious crunch.

Killian knew this was a rhetorical question; she didn’t want his help or his opinion, just his ear and his shoulder. So he said nothing.

Emma swiped her plate with the last bite of pancake and popped it in her mouth. “Looks like you were right,” she said. “I did eat it all.”

“I knew you could do it,” he replied, smiling at her. “I believed in you. I always believe in you, Emma.”

In more things than just eating pancakes, he meant, and he could tell she understood. She gave him an odd look, half soft smile, half inner turmoil.

“Let’s go,” she said suddenly.

“Where?”

“To the reunion. Let’s just go. I don’t care if we’re brilliantly successful or not, I’m happy. I’m exhausted and frustrated and sometimes I feel like all my efforts are for nothing, but then I come home and you pour me wine and fuck me senseless—”

“Um, make passionate love to my beautiful wife, I think you mean—”

“—then you make me pancakes for breakfast and listen to me complain about my day and even though that doesn’t make the problems go away it makes me feel like I can handle them. I can handle anything as long as you’re with me, and I’m happy, Killian.” She reached out and took his hand. “This is happily ever after,” she said softly, smiling into his eyes. “Everyone seems to think that that means your life is perfect but it doesn’t. It just means you’re happy despite the imperfections.”

“I’m happy with you, Emma,” he whispered, kissing her, leaning his forehead against hers, breathing her breath. “You're all I need, and I will never stop loving you.”

“I’ll never stop loving you,” she whispered back. They kissed again, deeper this time, a kiss tasting of pancakes and bacon and the years and years of joys and frustrations, triumphs and struggles, small victories and petty annoyances that they had to look forward to together.

In that moment, despite the imperfections, they were perfectly, truly happy.

#cs ff #high school au #teenage captain swan #happily ever after #and what that really means #happy ending #another brick in the wall #profdanglaisstuff #bittersweet

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skullsandfairylights · 5 years

Text

Writer’s Month 2019

Day 31: Setting Prompt: there was only one bed

It was supposed to be just a quick adventure. Her duties had increased recently; more visits from dignitaries, more events to attend and plan, more lessons on how to rule a kingdom. It was becoming overwhelming and exhausting. She had just needed a break, a little reprieve from her responsibilities, even just a moment of respite.

So, one night, when she had finished her lessons and had finished dinner with her parents, Emma had hurried back to her rooms. There, she changed into her riding gear and travel cloak, opened her window and then scaled the ivy down. From there, she creeped through the palace gardens unseen (she’d memorised the guards’ patrol patterns years ago).

Once out of the palace grounds, Emma took a familiar path on autopilot. She barely registered the scenery as she hurried through the shadows. She passed through the town streets, buildings dark as most citizens slept or prepared for bed. She entered the forest, entering the silent world of crickets and owls who were only just waking up, bringing their own world to life.

Then she arrived at her destination. The clifftop was empty and quiet, the only sound being the crashing of the waves far below. The grass was soft and plush with only a light covering of dew beginning to form. This was her happy place. It was her quiet place. The place where she could just be Emma and not Princess Emma.

She walked close to the edge and sat herself down in the grass. She stared out, gazing at the dark endless voids of sea and stars. She could feel the tension and stress being pulled out of her with the tide.

She was so at peace, that sleep took a hold of her and she napped among the grass and stars.

SNAP!

Her eyes sprung open. She held herself still as she listened. The wildlife was silent, a clear warning sign. She held her breath, trying to breathe slow and steady. Her hand twitched, hidden beneath her cloak. It inched down to her waist until her fingers wrapped around the hilt of her dagger – a gift for her 16th birthday, two years ago.

Footsteps quietly made their way towards her. One, two, three, four sets. At least four assailants. Emma tried desperately to remember her self-defence classes that her mother taught. She tried to remember what to do when you were outnumbered. But the fear and panic were setting in. Her mind was foggy from sleep and she had so many thoughts that she couldn’t sort or filter through them all. Everything was a mess.

Suddenly, a heavy fabric was flung over her and before she could react, something came down on the back of her head, hard and heavy. And then everything was black and silent.

Waking up, Emma found herself encased in a rough fabric. She was being carried in what felt like a hammock, but whoever was carrying her, was not being gentle. She was jostled and shaken about. She tried to move but found that her wrists and ankles had been tied together tightly with rope and that there was some kind of cloth tight between her teeth.

Outside, she could hear people talking loudly all around, she could hear seabirds squawking and she could hear waves splashing up against something. Emma considered fighting, considered struggling but with the way that she was bound and with how she couldn’t speak, she figured that her better bet would be to save her strength and energy.

She was lifted at an angle and the sound of the voices dimmed. There was the sound of thudding on wood – footsteps - and she assumed that she was being taken aboard a ship. There was the screech of metal on metal and then Emma was being thrown roughly to the floor. The rough fabric around her disappeared and her bonds were cut. The metal screeched again, and Emma looked up to find herself in a small cell, the rusted metal gate being locked by three large, muscled men. They sneered at her before storming out of the room, one of them spitting through the bars before he disappeared.

Great. Mum and dad are never gonna let me forget about this, she thought as she moved to the ‘cleanest’ corner of the room and hugged her knees.

About two weeks passed and Emma spent her days formulating plans of escape – and excuses that she could relay to her parents when she was free. Because she would get free. Her parents – particularly her mother – had brought Emma up, knowing how to defend herself and what to do in all sorts of situations.

Her captors ‘fed’ her once a day, a meagre amount which looked like the leftovers from the rest of the crew. They seemed to be a motley bunch; most of them, muscled with a permanent look of anger and aggression but it was like they had all come from different realms. However, many seemed to lack brains and blindly followed orders and were stumped by simple problem-solving tasks, much to Emma’s fortune.

Guards would be sent to watch her, but they spent more time sipping from their flasks than they did actually watching her. And when they did pay attention to her, all they did was throw slurs and leery gazes her way. They made threats about what would happen to her. They made her ‘propositions’ in exchange for ‘a few moments of freedom’ – she found it laughable that they seemed to think that by saying they’d be “gentle” would change her mind.

But for the most part, Emma just tried to let the gentle rocking of the ship keep her calm. After all, her escape would be so much more successful if she managed to convince the crew to think her helpless, to underestimate her.

One morning, Emma was roused by the sounds of shouts and more urgent thudding up on deck. Orders were being thrown around by the higher ups. The undulating motion of the ship began to lessen until it was just a gentle sway. We’re in a port, but where? Emma wondered, pushing herself onto her feet to peer out of the small window. It was daytime, though she wasn’t sure exactly, and all she could see was the open expanse of sea that they had obviously just sailed through.

The crew all busied themselves, thudding back and forth in a constant motion on deck. Shanties were sung for hours as they worked, and all Emma could do was sit and listen and plan her next move. She watched as the light outside got brighter and then dimmed as night fell. It was only a matter of time.

When the sun had fully set, the crew all marched off of the ship, whooping and cheering the fact that they were headed to the tavern. The only two left on the ship were Emma and one guard. Now it was time to enact her plan.

The guard was stationed just outside the door to the cells. “So,” She asked, leaning on the metal bars. “How come you’re stuck here while everyone else gets to go out drinking?”

“Shut up.”

“No, I seriously want to know.”

“I said, shut up!!

“Did you draw the short straw? Owe someone a debt? Or do the others really just hate you?”

The guard stormed towards her, “I said! Shut! Up!” he yelled, pushing his face close up to hers. Emma smirked, reaching forward between the bars and grabbing a hold of the guard’s shoulders. Then with all the strength she had, she yanked him forward, slamming his head against the metal bars. He fell back dazed, and she quickly pulled him forward again, and again until his eyes slipped closed and he sunk to the floor.

Kneeling down, she quickly unhooked the cell keys from his belt. She let herself out before dragging the guard back into the cell. With quick hands, she ransacked the guard’s unconscious form for all the gold and weapons he had before rushing out of the cell and locking it behind her.

“Sorry.” She muttered, tilting her head slightly and then running out of the room. She headed up onto the deck, hurrying towards the gangplank leading to the dock. Emma rushed down, desperate to get away, so desperate that she didn’t see the man walking along the pier until she ran right into him.

She was lucky the man had good balance and was able to steady her, otherwise they both would’ve been thrown back into the water. “Woah, easy there, love.” The man placed his hands on her shoulders and took in the sight of her. Her clothes were dirty and torn, her hair was probably a rat’s nest and she felt like she’d lost weight considered how little she’d been given to eat. “Looks like someone’s given you a rough night. Hope they paid you well.” He quipped, his accent becoming very apparent, and she tried to ignore the effect it had as she embraced the anger that his words brought.

“How dare you!” She exclaimed. “I. Am not. A whore.” She glared him down, he was attractive, that was clear. Dark hair and bright blue eyes. She decided in that moment, that she would need to keep her guard up with this man. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go!” She shouldered past him but stopped when a hand wrapped around her upper arm.

“Wait, love, I can’t, in good conscience, let you wander around on your own. There’s some bad sorts around, aye?”

“I’ll be fine.” She snapped, yanking her arm away from him.

“Just let me help. Where are you headed?”

Emma stared at him. “I need to find the Royal Navy. I need them to take me home.”

The man raised an eyebrow, “The Royal Navy, aye? You’d have to be pretty important for them to just ‘take you home’? Speaking of, where’s home?”

“The Enchanted Forest.”

“That’s a long way, love. At least two weeks, sailing, with favourable winds.” The man studied Emma for a few moments before he let out a breath. “Alright, what d’you say we make a deal, love? I’m headed out The Enchanted Forest way at first light. I’ll give you passage on my ship.”

Emma frowned, “And how am I supposed to trust you? You could be one of those ‘bad sorts’, pirate?”

“What can I say? I may be a pirate, but I’m still a man with honour.” Suddenly, the man held out his hand, “Forgive me, I haven’t even introduced myself, Captain Killian Jones.”

Emma hesitated but took his hand, “Emma.” Killian raised an eyebrow. “That’s all you need.”

“Alright then. . . Emma, let’s get you to the ship, the rest of the crew won’t be back for a few hours. It’ll give you a chance to settle in.” Killian held out his arm and Emma took it, warily, holding herself at a respectable distance. If Killian noticed this, he didn’t say anything. He just led the way along the dock towards a magnificent vessel. He led her up the gangplank then released her arm. Emma walked around the deck, taking in her first proper experience aboard a pirate ship.

The captain smiled, standing up beside the wheel, as he watched her move about. “When you’re finished looking around, allow me to show you to your quarters.” Emma looked up before heading up to quarterdeck join him. He pulled open a trapdoor and gestured her down.

It was the captain’s quarters, she realised as she stepped away from the ladder. It was more spacious than she expected. There was a large desk covered in charts in the middle, and a proper block bed against one wall. She wandered over and sat herself down on the bed, scanning her gaze across the room from the window on the back wall around to Killian, standing next to the ladder. “I take it that this is your room?”

“Aye, we can’t have a lady such as yourself slumming with the men of the ship. It wouldn’t be proper, love.”

“So, where will you sleep then? If I’ve stolen your room?”

Killian smirked with that little eyebrow raise, “I could always keep you company, should you desire it.” Emma scoffed and his smirk softened into a smile. “I’ve spent many a night sleeping above deck under the stars. Two weeks willna harm me.”

The princess-voice in Emma shouted, she couldn’t allow someone to suffer for her sake. Besides, he hadn’t done anything to hurt her yet and she very much doubted that he would. He wasn’t lying, she knew that. Maybe, she could trust him a bit more. “That won’t do.” She glanced back at the bed, realising that it was wider than it first appeared. “Provided you don’t roll in your sleep, we could probably both use the bed.” She kept her face as neutral as possible, she didn’t want to show any weakness, she didn’t want to even consider how big of a deal this actually was.

The pirate captain smirked, “Not sure that your father would agree with such a prospect.”

“My father?”

“Aye, I’d doubt he’d let me keep my head if he heard that his only daughter had shared a bed with a pirate, and I rather like my head where it is, it has all of my good looks.”

“You know who I am?”

“Did I recognise the crown princess of The Enchanted Forest? Of course, I did.” Killian leaned up against the edge of his desk. “Your parents should really up their security at those balls. Any old pirate can just walk right in off the street.” Emma poised herself and began to mentally plan an escape. There was a strong chance, with him knowing who she was, that this could end up being very bad for her. He could hold her for ransom or worse. Her face must have betrayed her thoughts because his face softened, “Relax, love. I’m not going to hurt you. I said I was a man of honour and I am. I said I would take you home to The Enchanted Forest and I will. You have my word.”

“And I’m to trust the word of any old pirate?”

“No. But you can trust the word of a captain who wanted to change his ways as soon as he saw you.” Emma frowned and Killian let out an amused breath. “You’d have thought I’d been on the rum.” He muttered beneath his breath, before addressing her. “I’ll be on deck, getting some things ready for first light. You get some sleep; I fear you’ve not had an easy couple of weeks. But you’re safe now, love, I promise.”

-=[Additional Notes]=-

Okay, so holy shit! It’s done. I managed to complete this challenge and write/post something every day for a whole month. I find it hard to stick to things but I managed to do this. I’m honestly really proud of myself. It’s gonna feel kinda weird not rushing to make sure that I post something every day but then again, uni is starting up soon so I’ll probably be swamped soon enough.

But also, I’m sure my followers will be glad to stop seeing me posting original posts every day, haha

#writersmonth2019 #i tried writing words

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artistic-writer · 6 years

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Alii Dimidium Lunam (The Other Half of the Moon) - CS Werewolf AU - Ch 10

Title: Alii Dimidium Lunam (The Other Half of the Moon) by @artistic-writer artwork by @cocohook38 & @artistic-writer

Rating: E (overall rating) for explicit sexual content, language and themes throughout. Trigger warnings will follow and be added as they are needed to avoid spoilers.

Art by @cocohook38 - Poster - Emma - David - Killian - James - Walsh

Chapter Art by @cocohook38 - Ch1 - Ch2 - Ch3 - Ch4 (NSFW)

Art by @artistic-writer - 1 - 2 - 3 -

Also on: AO3 - FF

A/N: Here is ch 10! There is art for this fic that I made that I will post seperately. Also, this is a BIG reveal ch - so buckle up! Some of you will be pleased to know we are not even halfway through this fic! when I am sure of the number of chapters involved, I will start putting it in the title. Massive thanks to my wonderful betas, @hookedonapirate who has done a fantastic job keeping my rabble in line, and @kmomof4 to whom this fic is also gifted. Without your constant encouragement, I would have probably given up on this fic already. Thank you to my crew, @hollyethecurious @resident-of-storybrooke @courtorderedcake and special thanks to @killian-whump @killianmesmalls and @sherlockianwhovian for how they helped later on. And to @flipperbrainwho drew THIS piece of art for this fic in December, before it was even written!

Taglist: @cssns @resident-of-storybrooke@hollyethecurious @kmomof4 @hookedonapirate@winterbaby89 @courtorderedcake @initiala @cocohook38@branlovesouat @teamhook @snidgetsafan@sherlockianwhovian @shireness-says@wingedlioness @lenfaz @therooksshiningknight @ilovemesomekillianjones @bmbbcs4evr @blowmiakisscolin@deathbycaptainswan @onceuponaprincessworld @chinawoodfan @seriouslyhooked @snowbellewells@wordsmith-storyweaver @jennjenn615 @delightfully-difficult-pirate @doodlelolly0910 @tiganasummertree @hookedmom

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They talked for what seemed like hours about their dreams, each recalling the smallest details that might have seemed insignificant to anyone else. It was how they knew they were in the exact same dream world, experiencing the same reverie. From the softness of the grass under their feet to the smell of soon to be erupted flowers, the sounds of the forest and the chill of the midnight air, they were under no illusion their dreams were one and the same.

Emma was filled with conflict. On one hand, she was relieved to finally know that her dream meant something, and she was not just plagued by the nightmare of losing her father for no reason. But what was the reason? The only differing detail in both of their visions was the name on the grave, so they had deduced it had to mean something, only they had no idea what it was trying to show them. Killian assured her time and time again it didn’t necessarily mean her father was fated to die, but the fact that Killian couldn’t locate his own father alive meant he didn’t exactly believe his own assurances.

To take their mind off things, Killian had suggested taking Emma to dinner. They were in a part of town she would not be recognized and so, without hesitation, Emma had agreed. He picked a casual Italian place, and when he had entered with her arm looped through his, the owner had almost danced with glee to see one of his favourite patrons finally dining with another. Emma gave him a nervous smile and they were seated opposite each other in a private little booth away from prying eyes, but the minute they sat down she was invaded with Graham’s scent.

“Are you alright?” Killian asked her gently, reaching across the table to grasp her hand with his when he noticed she was busy scanning the restaurant. For what, he wasn’t sure, and he didn’t detect anything out of the ordinary, casually inhaling to try and find the scent she could quite clearly smell. “You seem distracted.”

Emma frowned a little. “I can smell someone from my pack here,” she almost whispered, eyes still scanning over the other diners, but unable to find what she sought.

“Can you see anyone?” Killian asked her quickly, trying not to draw any attention as he fidgeted with his napkin.

“No,” Emma shook her head a little, disguising the action by pretending to flick her lightly curled golden locks over her shoulder. “I can’t see him.”

“Is it Graham?” Killian offered casually, opening the menu with his free hand and pretending to browse the selection.

Finally, Emma looked at him and gave a raised eyebrow and a smirk. “Are you jealous, Jones?” she teased, relaxing a little. The scent was old, a few days at least, and it was possible that, with all of her recent stress, Emma was confusing what she could smell with what she had smelled recently. It was a mixture of musk and human aftershave that could have been worn by a thousand other human men, not just Graham, so when she couldn’t visually locate the Misthaven beta, she figured she was being paranoid.

“Of course,” Killian winked at her, giving her hand a squeeze.

“You don’t have to worry about Graham, trust me,” Emma said firmly, scooting to the edge of her bench seat and wrapping her other hand around his. “He would be the last wolf I’d want.” Emma’s words left her mouth with a little more disgust than she had intended for her pseudo-sibling, and Killian noticed.

“He’s your betrothed, isn’t he?” Killian asked with a soft tone, the pain evident in his words. Emma held his gaze and swallowed slowly.

“Yes.” There was no point in hiding it any longer. Killian knew about everything anyway, so why not divulge the name of who her pack wanted her to marry. “And he is also the beta in my pack, so me running away is a big deal.”

“Ah, I see,” Killian nodded in understanding. “The chance of you being able to smell him is more than an unlikely coincidence then?”

“I’m afraid so,” Emma agreed. “He’ll find me eventually.”

Killian sat back in the booth, pulling his hand from hers and lightly scratching over the stubble on his jaw. Emma could see him thinking, almost hear his thought processes as he looked around the restaurant. He ate here frequently and nothing seemed out of the ordinary for this time of the week - no new patrons, no new smells - but clearly something had Emma spooked, and he would not abide that.

Killian had waited his whole life to belong, to feel like he was accepted. Emma gave him that. She gave him a sense of humanity, as well as accepted him for the wolf he was. He was not much by werewolf standards, smaller than the average wolf and with no pack or status to offer her, but he was sure, without a doubt, that he would fight with everything he had for her.

He would fight to the death if necessary.

“Then let him come,” Killian nodded with a tight smile. He sat forward and claimed her hands in his once more, his fingers tangling with hers and interlocking their hands tightly. “I’ll fight for you, Emma. I promised you forever, and if it means a little bloodshed to get there, then-”

“I don’t want that,” Emma interjected quickly, clutching his hand tighter.

“Neither do I,” Killian admitted honestly. “But I will fight for you, Emma. I will fight with everything I have to keep you safe.”

“Graham would never hurt me,” Emma said slowly, her gaze locked with Killian’s across the table. As acute as their hearing was, neither of them heard a single voice or sound in the restaurant in that moment except for the thrumming of each other’s blood. Emma flushed hot, a nervous human reaction to what they were both thinking.

“But what of me?” Killian laughed nervously, vocalising both of their fears. He didn’t know much about pack politics, but he knew enough that if Emma was to be married to another, and they wanted her back at all costs, then killing him or any other wolf in their way was nothing. Emma’s silence confirmed he was right.

The owner of the restaurant, Tony, chose that exact moment to appear, dogeared notepad in hand and a half length pencil tucked behind his ear. Killian stood to greet him, shaking the man’s hand vigorously and then introducing Emma as his date, the slight blush that crept over his cheeks at his admission not going unnoticed. Emma blushed as well, a very human reaction she had rarely experienced before because of the way it revealed too much to a foe.

After some pleasantries, they ordered one of the restaurant’s speciality dishes; a huge plate of spaghetti and homemade meatballs gently tossed into a basil infused ragu. Emma had never tried meatballs before but after Killian’s insistence, she was in love. The meatballs melted in her mouth, the taste of herbs and cooked meat so exotic and peppery on her tongue, she couldn’t help but moan after every mouthful, much to Killian’s amusement.

Emma was an eclectic mix of someone who had seen everything the world had to offer and yet had experienced nothing at the same time. Killian loved the way simple things seemed to excite her beyond belief, like she had learned everything she knew from books alone, without ever setting foot outside. She had mentioned her pack were old school before, but Killian couldn’t stop his smile each time she became giddy over such trivial things.

After the restaurant, they were strolling down the nearly empty sidewalk when Emma spotted a poster for a local fair. It came to town every year, and Killian had gone before, but never with anyone. He used to go with his brother as a way for both of them to remember their mother, who loved to go to such things, but he never had the opportunity to take someone else. Emma’s enthusiasm upon learning what a fair actually was, prompted her begging, almost whining, for him to show her as she excitedly tapped the ripped poster upon the rough brick wall.

The fair was close to his home and after they had driven back to his place, Killian suggested they walk there to enjoy the night air. It was crisp and cool, but the lingering smell of the pastries from the nearby diner had Emma’s smile growing even wider as they strolled to their destination. Like a kid at Christmas, Emma almost ran through the barriers as Killian paid for two tickets, watching her enjoyment and feeling the swell of his heart at how happy she was.

There was no way that Emma would have ever been allowed to go to a fair if she had been with anyone from her pack. This would have been on the forbidden list of human activities. The Chronicle was clear, as her father constantly reminded her, that any human activity deemed frivolous or that dulled the responses was not allowed. Apparently, fun was at the top of that list, because Emma had never had so much.

Her arms were overloaded with soft toys, and the taste of cotton candy still lingered on her tongue as they called it a night. Spun sugar had made her fingers sticky, but she didn’t mind at all, and even eating a corndog was new. Emma felt human for a second and loved each and every time Killian used his supernatural abilities to his advantage, winning her everything that she requested. There was no weakness in what she felt, only love and compassion for the wolf at her side, and not for the first time, Emma began to question the laws by which she had been raised. Nothing was off limits for her, Killian had made that clear, and as they ducked through the trees, taking a shortcut back to his apartment, Emma stopped him suddenly by grabbing his hand.

“Thank you,” Emma smiled sweetly, tugging his arm gently until he turned to look at her.

“For what?” Killian frowned, shaking his head a little from side to side as he stepped into her space. His chest bumped into the pile of bears in her arms, the soft furs brushing his arms as he rubbed a hand over her shoulders.

“Everything,” Emma smiled at him, leaning into his body.

“I just took you to the fair,” Killian blushed modestly, reaching behind his ear to scratch there nervously. “It was no trouble.”

“No,” Emma said definitely, tossing the soft toys to the ground beside them. One squeaked as it hit the ground and Killian’s ears perked up a little at the sound, but he kept his gaze trained on her. “You’ve done so much more.”

“It was nothing, lass,” Killian smiled. He trailed his hand down her arms, clutching her fingers between his, lifting their hands and interlocking their digits lovingly. Emma tightened her grip and pulled him even closer to her, their bodies crashing together and their noses almost bumping in the darkness. Even though it was nearly a full moon, the canopy of trees overhead afforded them some privacy from the silvery glow.

“It’s everything,” Emma breathed, her eyes flicking between Killian’s and his lips, visible in the darkness because of their ability to see in low lights. Killian swallowed and his mouth twitched, the corners tugging into a small smile. He licked them quickly, leaning forward to offer her a kiss, but Emma pulled away and he frowned, confused.

Emma stepped back, untangling their hands, and in one swift motion, she lifted her shirt up and over her head. Killian felt a different kind of energy surge through him, more than just arousal as Emma undressed, a collection of feelings that set his nerve endings on fire and made panic set into his bones.

“Emma, what are you doing?” he asked nervously, fully aware of the only reason werewolves took off their clothes in the woods. He knew enough about werewolf lore to know that if they were discovered right now, he wouldn’t be able to talk his way out of any punishment.

“I want you to see me,” Emma told him softly, tossing the last remnants of her clothing aside and standing in front of him gloriously nude. Her nipples peaked in the night air, pebbling into hard nubs atop the fleshy mounds of her breasts and causing his loins to stir.

“I can’t,” Killian turned away, clenching his jaw tightly and exhaling hard into his hand that covered his mouth. He hadn’t realised what Emma meant until that second - her shift. “It’s...I can’t let you. If anyone finds out-”

Emma snorted a laugh through her nose and walked towards him, placing a hand on his shoulder and encouraging him to turn and face her once more. “They won’t,” she offered lightly. “Killian, I want to show you this part of me.”

“Emma,” he ground out through clenched teeth, pinching his eyes closed almost painfully. He could smell her change coming, could sense the shift of bones and muscle about to happen, the electricity flowing through her hand and into his, like an open current.

Their connection was something special, almost like twins in nature, where Killian could feel everything about Emma’s change at the same time she could, but what was even more unnerving was the way he was desperately attempting to halt his own change at the same time. Killian’s inner wolf howled to be free, clawing at his insides, yearning to join his soul mate in their true, free form.

“It’s okay,” Emma soothed, running her hand over the sweat of his brow, calming him instantly. Killian exhaled hard, eyes tightly closed, and his face twisted with a mixture of pain and the resistance to join her. Emma leaned forward, pressing her lips to his cheek only briefly before stepping back and letting their hands fall apart. “I want this,” she murmured, offering him a smile he couldn’t see as her shift ravaged her body.

When Killian opened his eyes, he was not met with the usual hazel green hues of Emma that he could get lost in for hours, but was staring out into the darkness of the forest. A soft whine alerted him, and he looked down, the dirt lightly disturbed by the huge grey and red she-wolf sitting at his feet. Even as a wolf Emma was beautiful, and Killian’s breath was taken from him, the softness behind her almond shaped eyes warming his heart.

“Emma, you could get into real trouble. You shouldn’t have done this,” Killian admonished weakly, finally relenting to her will.

Emma cocked her head to the side, her maw slightly ajar, halting its panting, and her ears pricked on her head. She watched him intently like a dog focused on a ball about to be thrown, and when Killian reached for the buttons of his shirt, she jumped back to her feet, her tail curled over her back where it began brushing her spine in a slowly increasing rhythm.

“Forever, right?” Killian arched a brow at her, finally pulling the edges of the shirt open and pulling his arms free. He tossed the material her way, smirking when she hopped out of the way with a playfully growl. “Just so you know, and I’m only saying this because I know you can’t argue back right now, you are buying breakfast,” Killian teased, pulling his belt open and feeling the ease in his muscles as his body surrendered to the beginning of his change.

Emma’s muzzle hung open once more, her happy dog smile lighting up her eyes when she realised he was about to change. When Killian was fully naked in front of her, his clothes a discarded mess of jeans and leather boots, Emma gave him one final whimper of encouragement before tearing off into the night, her feet skidding against the dried leaves under her paws as she swerved to avoid his legs.

“Wait!” Killian called out after her, twisting his body to watch her go. The sound of breaking branches echoed from the tree line, growing more and more distant, the sound indistinguishable from the creaking of his bones. Killian let out a cry and fell to his knees, falling forward onto his hands and clawing at the ground with a grunt. It was not advisable to fight one's change, he had always been told not to, and now the pain tearing through his body was a testament to why. “One of these days, I’ll stop chasing after this she-wolf,” he growled to himself, the syllables of his last words stretching out and turning into a full blown howl when his transformation was complete.

Emma stopped running as soon as she heard the howl, a quick exhale leaving remnants of condensation in the air in front of her nose and she spun on her heels to face the direction she had cantered from. The leather pad twitched at the end of her muzzle, desperate to find the scent of Killian in the non-existent breeze, the still of the forest offering him the perfect camouflage and the absence of wind the perfect opportunity to stalk her. Emma’s canine heart pounded thrice as fast in her chest, eyes flitting around the trees to try and guess the direction he would appear from.

She was tense, no doubt about it. Suddenly she was the prey, a feeling she had never experienced before, and the hackles on the back of her neck sprang to attention. Her ears swiveled on her head, twisting this way and that, trying to find a single indication of Killian’s presence nearby. Again she tilted her head back, inhaling hard into the night, but was met with nothing but the approaching rain and the damp, forest floor.

She froze, holding her breath, her eyes wide in an attempt to let in as much of the little light that was in the forest that night. She saw nothing, her paws flexing in the detritus in anticipation of running, her tail hanging low between her legs. She was deflated. She thought Killian would follow her, she thought he would be at her side and for a second, she missed his contact, whining into the night.

A twig snapped behind her and Emma turned instantly, staring intently into the bushes behind her. Every hair on her body stood on end and she couldn’t hear anything but the pounding of her blood. The shape of her ears funneled in the noises of the night, but it wasn’t until she saw the glow of blue between the dark green leaves that she shifted her weight backward and her tail began to wag. It brushed her hocks, and she stamped her paws forward in a playful bow gesture, enticing the blue eyed shadow out of his hiding place to join her.

Killian emerged slowly, the bushes snagging against his fur, his ears flattened to the top of his broad wolf skull as he pushed his muzzle through the prickly branches. Emma made a high pitched yelp, spinning on the spot in excitement of his arrival, glad to finally see him. He approached her cautiously, fur puffed out and ears erect on his head, his bush-like tail laying over his back in a tight curl. Emma halted her spin, meeting him with a puppy like submission, licking at his maw and pawing at his face in eagerness, loving his masculine demeanor as he let her.

There seemed to be a switch in roles; Killian suddenly became protective and dominant over her. Maybe it was their connection, maybe it was something else, but Emma felt helpless against him and rolled onto her back at his paws, tail tucked between her legs where it swiped to and fro over her hairless belly. Killian sniffed at her, avoiding her pawing with a dodge each time she tried to press her foot to his muzzle, until Emma suddenly slipped out from under him and sprang to her feet once more. Killian flinched back, slightly confused by her sudden innocent nature, but he didn’t have time to react before Emma turned and high tailed it back through the trees in the direction she had come from.

Killian took off after her, a low growl tumbling from his throat as he pounded the earth, newly formed branches snapping under the weight of his body as he forced his bulk through the narrow brush. A squeak tore through the forest, close by he could tell, and with a wolfish grin he increased his speed towards their discarded clothes. When he burst through the tree line Emma was waiting, her tail flying from left to right and her head shaking from side to side. In her mouth, she had one of the toys he had won her from the fair, the squeak inside of its soft, filled belly igniting the playfulness inside of her as if she were a puppy.

Emma closed her jaws around the toy, again and again, the high pitched squeaker piercing his eardrums everytime she chewed on it and growled at the toy in response. Killian inched forward, his own tail wagging furiously as he attempted to nip at the toy in her jaws, carefully teasing the leg of the fluffy, blue bear away from her muzzle with a gentle pull. Emma growled but there was no malice behind her tone, pulling the toy away from his reach just enough that he attempted to acquire it once more.

It was a game, a silly game that only domesticated dogs played, but somehow, under the cover of darkness, two fully grown werewolves had entered into a game of tug-o-war with a soft toy neither of them really wanted. It wasn’t about the toy, it was about having fun, Killian’s final acceptance to embrace his wolfish nature for more than just running to relieve stress. Emma wanted him to be free, hold onto his true nature and stop fighting what they both already knew.

Two halves of the same moon may never meet, but they will always fit together perfectly to make a whole.

Whilst Emma was distracted by the hoot of an owl, Killian managed to grab the toy, the squeaker shrieking under protest but soon fizzling away as his powerful canine popped the thin, plastic shell. Emma pulled, the muscles in her neck tensing under the strain, but Killian did not let go, a low growl rumbling in his throat as he declared to her that the toy was his. Emma growled back, her feet digging into the leaf littered floor as she pulled back, her equal size and impressive strength moving him with her.

Killian pulled even harder, moving around her in an attempt to twist it from her jaws, but Emma would not yield, her head turning unnaturally and her body soon following to straighten up. They were at an impasse for a few seconds, blue eyes staring into green, grunts of exertion through half muffled noses filling the air between them before, with one last tug, Emma managed to tear the toy in two, and paraded around with the head of the bear between her teeth.

Killian sat and dropped his half, white stuffing fibers stuck to his tongue. He shook his head, twitching it to the side as his tongue rolled in waves to eject the offending material from his mouth, his eyes trained on Emma who had stopped to mock him with a wolfish grin. She had dropped the decapitated head of the bear and was pacing towards him determinedly, and if Killian didn’t know better he would say she was swaying her hips in an attempt to seduce him.

When she reached him, her nose touching his and pushing against his face, he reared up onto his back legs like a begging dog and lost his balance, falling back against the tree behind him with a low groan. He shook it off, slouched against the rough bark when an all too human cry of anguish filled his ears, and he looked forward again to see Emma mid shift.

Killian was too late to look away; he had seen too much. Paws became hands, fingers long and delicate and Emma’s tail disappeared to reveal the soft, white curve of her behind. She cried out again and Killian felt a pull, as if an invisible thread had been tugged on and when she sank to the ground on all fours as human once more, Killian felt his own body change.

There was no pain with his shift, only amazement, and awe at the woman in front of him who had made sure he would watch her this time. Emma had made sure he could see, made sure he was distracted enough with their frivolous game that he would never see it coming until it was too late, and he was gazing upon the most intimate parts of her. And there was no taking it back now, the gnarled bark on the tree digging into his human spine going unnoticed as Emma looked over to him with a smirk.

“Forever,” she said softly, reiterating his earlier words before she sank to the forest floor exhausted.

The morning was cool, a light covering of fog hanging in the air, slowly disappearing as the morning sun grew hotter, evaporating it from existence. Emma walked along the sidewalk with a definite spring in her step, her newly acquired hoodie hanging off of one shoulder and her hair tied into a loose ponytail to the side. She was sure Killian wouldn’t mind her borrowing a few clothes, especially seeing as by the time he stirred, she would have returned with an aforementioned breakfast.

There were few people around at this time of the morning. Emma had always been an early riser, unless especially exhausted, and she had discovered a new found affinity for people watching. Humans were fascinating, barely awake themselves, and yet able to function from muscle memory alone as they made their way to their places of work under the thrall of tiredness. It felt good to be amongst them, like one of them, blending into a society that knew no more than she would allow - something Emma had never been afforded as a Misthaven wolf before.

The Chronicle was abundantly clear when it came to affairs of humanity. To protect all werewolf kind, living with or near humans was discouraged, lest their true identity become a revelation. There had never been a werewolf revealed to humanity, not in Emma’s entire bloodline, but it was the fear of discovery that kept many of the werewolves in her community petrified of even gazing upon a human. They were nothing to wolves, and as insignificant as the insects that inhabited the world.

If wolves never bothered humans, humans would never know.

Emma rounded the final corner on her way to the diner Killian had told her about, the scent of the freshly raised sweet pastry dough filling her nostrils. Killian had given her very quick instructions, but Emma was sure she could have still followed her nose and would have had no problem finding the place. The entire block was filled with a sweet smelling sugary aroma that was so enticing she didn’t notice the musky scent of another wolf until it was too late.

Two huge hands grabbed her, pulling her sideways into an alleyway that was darkened by shadows and a dead-end brick wall. One hand held her still, pinning her to the wall whilst the other clamped over her mouth to stop her from calling out. Emma’s back hit the rough brickwork with a thud, the air leaving her lungs on a squeal into the wolves hand that smelled salty and weathered against her face, her eyes pinched closed as she waited for an attack that never came.

“Shh, Emma, it’s me,” the wolf whispered, his body leaning into hers as he cast a quick glance to the sidewalk in case anyone had noticed him grab her. Emma recognised the voice instantly, the dulcet Irish twinge behind his words easily distinguishable from any accent she had ever heard. She peeled her eyes open and shook his hand from her face, huffing a little as she pushed against his weight.

“Graham,” Emma spat, her anger immediately evident. “I knew it was only a matter of time before you found me,” she groaned, straightening up the oversized hoodie she was wearing.

“I’m not here to hurt you,” Graham assured her softly, taking a step back. “Or Killian,” he added nervously. Emma’s eyes widened and the hues darkened a little with her rage.

“How do you…” she began suspiciously, but Graham stopped her.

“I’ve been following you all week,” he admitted. “Your father sent me to bring you home.”

“I’m not going home,” Emma said defiantly, shifting her weight onto one hip and crossing her arms over her chest. “You can tell my father that. And stay away from Killian, he’s done nothing wrong.”

“Emma, this is serious,” Graham pleaded. “Your father gave me strict instructions to bring you home and to kill the wolf you were cavorting with.” Emma stared at him for a second, the muscle in her jaw twitching and her lip curling into a snarl. “He is very angry.”

“Of course he is,” Emma snarled, whipping her hair over her shoulder. In the tussle, it had come loose and was now a knotty mess of unbrushed blonde tendrils covering her shoulders. “His little princess has her own mind and he doesn’t like it, but Killian doesn’t even know who I am, so leave him out of this.”

“Emma, please,” Graham implored, rolling his eyes. Emma was stubborn, just like her mother, and sometimes he was irritated by her younger sibling act as much as she was annoyed by the way he acted like her big brother. “I’m not trying to argue here…”

“Good. Conversation over,” Emma snapped, heading back towards the entrance to the alleyway.

“Wait!” Graham lunged out and grabbed her elbow, quickly pulling her to a halt. “This isn’t about you,” he quipped angrily, grinding his teeth together. “God, you are still so…”

“Don’t say it,” Emma warned him, pointing a menacing finger in his direction. He used to call her selfish all the time as pups because Emma was raised with a sense of entitlement that she hadn’t realised was unbecoming until her wolf day, and Graham had never let her forget how much of a princess she had acted. She hated him for it, because even though they had matured, he had never outgrown his jibe. “I can kick your ass now. I’m not a little pup anymore. You can’t bully me and you most certainly cannot convince me to return to Misthaven.”

When they were pups, Graham had taken it upon himself to torment Emma with his larger than average size and strength, defeating her in every game they played. It didn’t help that David regularly pitted them against each other in practice bouts until Emma finally worked out how to outsmart him, using her cunning skills to defeat him, despite his size. In a way, it had made her an impressive fighter, but it was at the cost of her ego that Graham had relentlessly crushed each and every time she was beat.

“Just listen to me, will you?” Graham snapped, clenching his fist in frustration. “Do you want to hear what I have to say, or not?”

Emma studied his expression, the fatigue etched across his features. Dark grey half circles sat under each of his eyes, the crows feet at their corners making him look much older than she knew he was. Tiny white hairs had sprouted from his browline and peppered his sideburns, the rugged growth on his chin unkempt and messier than usual. It had been a while since Emma had simply looked upon the wolf she loved as a brother, but something was clearly weighing heavy on his mind and manifesting itself in his weary appearance.

She relaxed a little, letting out a heavy sigh when he looked at her with pleading eyes. “I’m listening.”

“Good,” Graham exhaled with relief. “I need your help.”

The diner was surprisingly crowded for the early hours, and Emma suspected it was because of the delectable pastries. There was a long queue, so Graham had offered to grab them coffees and breakfast whilst Emma took a seat. She had calmed down somewhat after realising Graham wasn’t here to exact her father's orders, and when he had asked for her help, she was a little concerned.

Graham was a beta. He didn’t need help, and she was sure the last person he would need it from was her. She was nobody, not yet, not until they were married. If they were married, which if Emma had anything to say about it, would be never. Her connection with Killian was so intrinsic, she couldn’t imagine herself with anyone else, and if that meant she had to die to fight for her freedom to marry for love, she would.

The clatter of plates made her jump suddenly, and everyone in the diner looked to the bar area where a waitress had dropped a whole stack. As she hurried off, red faced and embarrassed beyond comprehension, Emma noted the other seated diners as they resumed their activities. There were four other people in the diner that morning, eating in - two men and two women - and Emma made a mental note of them and their physical attributes just in case there was any trouble.

Two of the men were dining together, suited and booted and both chatting into an earpiece whilst ignoring their company. There was a blonde haired woman typing away on a laptop, huffing at herself as she slammed her finger down on the delete key time and time again. The other woman was seated at the back of the restaurant, with long, dark hair and a pale complexion, unable to hide the glow emanating from her skin. She was smiling to herself, reading a thick paged magazine that lay out before her, and Emma noticed the faintest hint of increased hormones in her scent. If she didn’t already know, the woman was pregnant, but maybe that’s why she was smiling so broadly.

“I got you one of those disgustingly sweet pastries you like so much,” Graham announced, interrupting her from people-watching. He placed the small round white plate in front of her, the still warm bear claw almost making her drool.

“Thank you,” Emma said with a tight lipped smile, taking the mug of steaming coffee out of his hands so he could sit opposite her at the small square table. The whole restaurant looked more like somebody's house, the casual placement of a few well worn couches and a bookshelf near a disused open fire making it seem more homely.

Graham fidgeted in his seat, tugging at his shirt like it had twisted out of place, and shuffling his chair under the table even more. Emma watched him with a narrowed gaze, confused by his actions that were decidedly more human. “Are you okay?” She asked gently. “You’re acting weird.”

“Am I?” Graham asked nervously, his voice an octave higher than before.

“Yes,” Emma affirmed calmly. “Very weird.”

Graham cleared his throat, finally content with the position he had found most comfortable, and he covered his face with both of his hands. It was like he was trying to find the courage she knew he already had to tell her something, so she knew it had to be serious. Graham was nervous, but she could smell something other than fear on him - she just didn’t know what it was.

“You said you needed my help,” Emma prompted, trying to break the tension between them. She reached for the small bowl of sugar cubes in the center of the table and grabbed one, letting it fall into the blackness of her coffee with a plop.

“Yes,” Graham agreed with a nod before pausing. His short answer confused Emma, and she gave him a twisted look.

“Graham, will you quit acting so human and just tell me what’s going on?” Emma told him firmly. “I’ve never seen you so rattled,” she noted, lifting her mug to her lips and taking a sip of the acrid liquid inside. She winced at the taste, returning the porcelain to the table and reaching for a creamer in a second ramekin. She didn’t normally take cream, but the coffee was a little too strong without its sweetness.

“Okay,” Graham blurted, shuffling forward even more and leaning forward on his elbows. He beckoned her nearer with a crooked finger and Emma leaned towards him. “I can’t marry you,” Graham stated obviously and Emma fell back against her chair with a huff.

“I could have told you that,” she sighed.

“No,” Graham shook his head quickly. “I mean, I’m engaged to another.”

Emma’s bottom jaw dropped open and she almost knocked her coffee from the table, scandalized by his confession. “Who?” She demanded curtly, and before he even had time to respond, she gasped loudly with realisation. “My father doesn’t know, does he?”

Graham looked at her with a darkened stare. “You think I would still be alive if he did?”

Emma gave him a knowing look. “So, who is it?” Emma demanded a second time, swiping her mug up and taking another gulp of coffee. “Which pack?” She smacked her lips together, wiping them with the back of her hand.

“She doesn't belong to any pack,” Graham shrugged, casting a sideways glance to a man who brushed past them a bit closer than he would have liked. Emma matched his shrug and arched her back against the chair, the wooden legs creaking a little.

“A loner?” Emma asked nonchalantly. “I get that appeal,” she smirked, recalling the small smile on Killian’s face as he had slumbered beside her the night before.

Loners were pureblood wolves who had no pack and were usually ignored by others. They were often without a pack because of upheaval or conflict that had meant the end of any community they had known. Being a loner was a choice, not a punishment, and as such, they were permitted to interact with other purebloods freely. The Chronicle was indifferent to lone wolves, and in more recent times it had become acceptable that they join an established pack through marriage. The only aspect of interaction frowned upon was illegitimate children, which would result in exile for both parents.

Graham lowered his head and looked up at her sheepishly. “Not exactly. She’s human.”

Emma kicked the underside of the table as she jumped, half in shock and half in disbelief. She ignored the pain throbbing through her knee, eyes fixed on Graham’s for any sign that he was joking. He had to be. The beta of Misthaven was a force, one of the strongest wolves she knew. He was honest, dedicated and loyal to his pack and werewolf lore. He was not engaged to a human, was he?

“I don’t know what to say,” Emma swallowed, her face pale with shock. “I mean...” she stuttered, exhaling hard, her brow furrowing with thought.

“I know this is a lot to take in,” Graham whispered across the table when a few of the people in the nearby queue turned to look at what had caused the echoing bang of bone against wood.

“How long?” Emma asked eagerly. “How long have you...you know?” She made a weird gesture with her hands, not entirely sure what it was herself. There were no anatomical differences between wolves in human form and humans, so Emma attributed her odd behaviour to shock. Yeah, that was it. She was still in shock. Graham quirked an eyebrow.

“Going on three years.” He hadn't even finished his sentence before he winced in anticipation of Emma’s reaction.

“THREE!” She almost yelled and the entire diner paused and looked in her direction. Graham grabbed her arm, holding her down when she attempted to leap to her feet, a strange child-like chuckle escaping her lips at this new found information. “How? I mean, bravo for pulling it off,” she laughed, grinning broadly. “Really, I had no idea, and you’re still breathing so obviously my father doesn’t either…”

“And he never can,” Graham interrupted her rant, gripping her arm tighter and catching her gaze. His face was stoney, a real sense of panic plastered across his features that sobered Emma instantly. She calmed, her smile fading.

“There is more isn’t there?” Emma asked him coolly.

Graham released her arm, sitting back in the chair that groaned under his hefty weight. He licked his lips nervously, running a hand through his hair slowly as if he were signaling someone with a secret gesture.

Out of the corner of her eye, Emma watched as the lady with long, dark brown hair got to her feet, a very visible bump on display now that she was on her feet. She gathered up her things, tucking the magazine into her satchel and pushing her chair back under the table. The sound of wood on wood vibrated through the diner and Graham turned red, his face blushing and the scent of his sweat invading Emma’s nostrils. He didn’t say anything else, and Emma simply watched him squirm with a confused expression.

That was until the pregnant lady appeared at his side, bag slung loosely over one shoulder and gripped by one hand, drawing Emma’s attention. She watched in fascination as the woman’s other hand snaked its way over Graham’s shoulder as he wrapped an arm around her slender figure. He planted his hand firmly on the outside of her heavily pregnant belly, fingers splayed protectively over the unborn child, as he looked back to meet Emma’s wide eyes.

“Emma, this is Ruby,” he murmured, the pregnant brunette placing her hand over his on her stomach.

“Hi,” Ruby smiled brightly, which confused Emma even more. Did she know what she was? “Nice to finally meet you.”

#cssns #cs fic #cs au #cs werewolf au #cssns fanfic #Alii dimidium Lunam #the other half of the moon #killian jones #emma swan #wolves of misthaven #artistic-writer #ch10

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onceuponataarna · 6 years

Text

Do Pirates Dream of Electric Swans?

Summary: Mills Mechanics has made a fortune producing Compandroids, remarkably lifelike androids that are nearly indistinguishable from humans and designed to be a perfect companion for the wealthy people who commission them. Built to the specifications of their respective owners, Emma and Killian are no exception to this, but still find themselves drawn to each other in a way that defies all logical explanation or programming. Haunted by a sense of loss even when happily living their separate lives, their circumstances have them returned to the factory headquarters at the same time, and they are astounded to discover that the face they’ve fallen for in their dreams is that of a fellow robot. If two lovers are made to be together, can anything truly keep them apart? Do you need a soul to have a soulmate?

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: explicit sexual content

Word count: 13,155

(Also available on ff.net and ao3)

Please make sure to check out the gorgeous art done by @hencethebravery and @youre-not-a-cat-youre-a-rat !

Author note: After months of work and stress, here it is, my contribution to the Captain Swan Little Bang 2018! What can I say? I love androids, and I’ve had this story kicking around in my head since at least 2016 or so, but just couldn’t find the time and inspiration to put it down in writing until joining the cslb gave me a deadline to push me through that block. I need to send a big thank you out to my amazingly supportive cslb beta, @branlovesouat and to @wordsmith-storyweaver and @krustybunny for their encouragement.

————

Just like that, She was everything. He didn’t know how else to express it. One moment he was just going through the motions as required and the next he felt. There was an awareness of her, that she was something beautiful, perfect, and rare. And she was looking at him the same way he was at her.

He heard a voice over the loudspeaker behind him, “Cognition is running on full auto and he’s attuned to the female.”

“Hey, there, buddy,” greeted the technician standing nearby with a tablet. “She is a stunner, isn’t she? Well, it’s your lucky day, cause I’m pretty sure she’s the one you’ll be paired with.”

The loudspeaker sounded again. “Looking that way. I’m just finishing up the compatibility studies but I don’t think we’ll have to get one out of storage. We can just test them together.”

“Should I wait to switch her over?”

“Nah I’m almost done here. You can go to physical and cognitive.”

He watched as the tech tapped various inputs into the tablet to turn the female’s automatic functions on, and marveled as she cocked her head and stared at him, mouth dropping open in surprise.

She’d never seen him before and yet, she had no doubt that he was the one. She didn’t know any truth more complete than that. His body, his heart, whatever he was, he was hers and she was his. God she needed to be with him- to know him, feel him and taste him.

The tech laughed at the two androids reactions, nudging the male with an elbow before turning to the female. “Looks like she’s into you too. Don’t go falling in love sweetheart. He’s just a fling.”

“You’re so weird, Jefferson,” the voice over the speaker asserted.

“August, come on. In a month they’ll be practically indistinguishable from a human,” the tech responded, checking a few measurements on his tablet as he spoke. “Why is my talking to them weird?”

The security guard by the room’s door and adjacent one-way mirror laughed quietly, earning him a glare. “I’m sorry, but you’d be weird even without the talking- you know that right?”

“Whatever, Dave. Anyway, he’s completely good to go. Give me 5 and she’ll be ready too. What’s the male’s name again? Kevin? No, Kieran?”

The speaker crackled to life. “Killian.”.

“I knew it was something with a K. Killian, meet Emma. Emma, this is Killian.”

Killian drank in the sight of the female before him, letting his memory catalogue the shade of her jade green eyes, the creamy paleness of her slightly freckled skin and the bright golden blonde of the hair that cascaded down her back. Classically beautiful in an old-Hollywood kind of way, she had been built to be lean, but undeniably feminine. God, she had truly been made to be both heaven and hell in one gorgeous package.

“Compatibility’s fully in the green on all measures, Jeff. I’ll start the physical tests while you finish her up, and then we can let them get acquainted while we grab lunch. David, you need to do anything before we go?” The blonde security officer shook his head, and moved to make a final sweep of the room as the engineer and tech continued their work.

Emma inclined her head politely, taking in the nude form of the fellow compandroid beside her. His face was a masterpiece with incredible bone structure, strong cheekbones and a devastating jawline only serving to draw attention to beautiful sky blue eyes. Undeniably male, the dark hair on his head, stubbled jawline and down his sculpted chest contrasted beautifully with his fair skin. Killian was defined but not overly bulky, and had the physique of an athlete rather than a man who spent hours in the gym. The tech was fully focused on her as August began his assessment, and as he turned, stretched, and bent when prompted, Emma couldn’t help but let her gaze drop to the other masterpiece of his build.

“Are you sure we can’t get them some clothes or something?” the security guard asked as he finished rounding the room and returned to the door. “They aren’t going to be naked all the time once they get to wherever they’re going.” Emma’s gaze snapped up, but he was looking up at the security camera.

“Millionaires pay good money to bang these things,” Jefferson responded. “Don’t kid yourself, Dave, that’s, like, 80% of why anyone buys them.”

David made a vaguely disgusted sound and left the testing room as the tech laughed, putting Emma through the same basic physical tests as her male partner. “They’re both all set,” he announced as he finished, tucking the tablet under his arm. “Go ahead and switch them over to full physical and cognitive auto.” He turned to the Compandroids, smiling broadly. “Alright you two. Go ahead and get acquainted. You’ve been cleared so just do whatever comes naturally and we’ll let you know if we need you to repeat anything or if we need to see anything else at the end of the week.”

August’s voice filled the room. “Mills Mechanics test 342: Killian for U.Z. and Emma for A.P. Cameras are rolling. Security is standing by.”

The technician signaled a thumbs-up to his coworker and jogged for the door, leaving the two androids alone. Tearing his gaze from the female- Emma, he thought, with a surge of warmth- he looked around their simple surroundings, noting that she was doing the same. The room was sparse, arranged to look like a studio apartment and containing simple furnishings as well as a few random items that seemed likely to appeal to specific programming that compandroids were often given. Foregoing the idea of heading towards the tiny kitchen, as neither really needed food to function, his attention snagged on the bed. No, there would be plenty of time for that, he hoped. A woman as beautiful as this deserved to be wooed.

“So,” she began, leaning against the back of a black leather couch and giving him a very distracting view of her lithe body. “Looks like it’s just you and me for a week, so we might as well get started.” She paused a moment before blurting out, “What’s your favorite animal?

He tipped his head back and laughed at the randomness of the question, moving to stand a bit closer as he accessed his memories. “Dogs. You?”

“Swans. You have an English accent. That’s a bit unfair, isn’t it?” She shrugged, nodding in his direction. “Your turn.”

“Alright. Favorite food? Mine is pancakes.”

“Rocky road ice cream,” she announced with a grin. “No question. Alright, favorite song?”

“Vissi d’arte from Tosca.” His brows drew together in slight confusion. “That seems strangely high brow and specific. Apparently I like opera. You?”

“In My Room by The Beach Boys. Brian Wilson is an artist and I won’t tolerate you saying otherwise, Mr. Opera.” She faked offense, but the secret smile she sent him warmed his heart.

Killian’s hands went up in a placating gesture. “Alright, lass, you’ll hear no argument from me.” Looking for inspiration to keep their game going, he moved towards a shelf along the back wall of the room, which contained books in a variety of styles and languages and picked up the first that caught his eye, a collection of poems by Robert Burns, as it turned out. “Hmm, ok, who is your… least favorite author?”

An adorably puzzled look crossed her face as she joined him in perusing the titles, their shoulders mere inches from brushing. “I’m… I’m not sure I have one. I’m certain that I like books, though. Why, do you have a least favorite author?”

She smirked as a blush crept across his cheekbones and tinted his ears pink. “It seems I find Roald Dahl’s works creepy?”

The laugh that bubbled out of her was unintentional. “Isn’t that a children’s author?”

“Aye,” he admitted, slightly put out. “What of it?”

“Nothing at all,” she assured him, making a show of letting her eyes wander over his broad shoulders and down his sculpted torso before landing lower. Biting her lip with a smile, she looked back into his eyes through her lashes. “You just, well, you certainly don’t look like a child.”

He preened a bit, finding that he didn’t mind his embarrassment as much when it could make her smile and clearly didn’t inhibit her attraction to him. “You’re welcome to look your fill darling. I’m designed to be aesthetically pleasing.”

“As am I,” Emma responded, swaying her hips as she gave a little twirl and walked over to the upright piano sitting against the adjacent wall, gently pressing a few keys. “Looks like I know how to play one of these things,” she said with a wry twist of her lips. “You get any hidden talents, Killian?” His blue eyes twinkled as he quirked a suggestive brow in response. “Any musical talents?” She clarified, shaking her head in amusement as he crossed the room as well and pulled out the bench for her, allowing Emma sit and position herself. She casually began to play as she continued to speak. “I don’t think it’s always a standard thing.”

Killian picked up the acoustic guitar leaning alongside the piano, plucking out a quick melody in harmony to the tune she had been playing a moment earlier. “Apparently I play guitar?” He responded, continuing to strum lazily as he exchanged Pachelbel’s canon in D for something new. “Alas my love you do me wrong to cast me off discourteously. For I have loved you so long delighting in your company.”

Without missing a beat, she continued where he left off, piano and voice joining with him as they sang. “Greensleeves was all my joy, Greensleeves was my delight, Greensleeves was my heart of gold, And who but my Lady Greensleeves.” She chuckled then, shaking her head again in disbelief. “Of all the things, they gave us both a folk song?” She watched the faint blush return to his cheeks as he scratched behind his charmingly pink ear.

“Seemed a bit early for something more ambitious like Bizet’s Carmen. I had to improvise. Folk tunes seemed the most likely to be universal.” He smirked mischievously, leaning in slightly to stage whisper, “and it gave me an excuse to sing something romantic to you.”

Emma mirrored his pose, and he fought to keep his eyes on hers and not let them drop to her very kissable mouth or lower to the perfect breasts that remained exposed. “Doesn’t the lady reject her suitor in that song? I’d think you’d pick something with a happier ending if you had an end goal in mind.” He watched her eyes briefly flick down to his lips as she licked her own, and he was rather glad that certain parts of his anatomy were still covered by the wooden body of the guitar.

“Maybe the lovers reconcile in my version,” he whispered.

“I think I’d like that,” she murmured back, slipping from the piano bench to lean over him and place the gentlest kiss to his lips. No longer worried about modesty, he shoved the guitar aside, and she instantly deepened the kiss as he pulled her down into his lap and gave himself over to her. One of his hands wrapped around her back while the other buried itself in her long golden hair, an action that she repeated herself as her fingers scratched along his scalp. Holding herself back, she resisted grinding down onto the hardness she could already feel under her, wanting to simply enjoy the sensation of kissing this amazing male for a moment.

Pausing briefly, he pulled back to admire the female in his arms, letting his thumb trace the gentle curve of her jaw. “You are a bloody marvel, Emma,” he said quietly, hoping she could hear the sincerity in his voice.

“And you’re everything, Killian. Everything I could have hoped for.” In spite of the extensive vocabulary she’d been given, Emma found her words failing her and instead tried to convey what she felt with her body, wrapping her arms around his neck and pouring herself into her kisses. They’d barely known each other for an hour, but something about this male just felt right, like he was the other half of a puzzle she hadn’t even realized was missing a piece. From his actions and responses, it seemed clear that he felt the same way, and she wasn’t foolish enough to question their connection when he was busy working kisses down her neck and whispering tender endearments into her skin.

“God above, darling, you’re so beautiful, so brilliant. How are you mine?” He wondered aloud. He wanted her in every way, and something in him ached with a need to show her that the bond they had was, somehow, so much more than physical. Yes, he wanted to fuck her, but a simple coupling of these bodies was only the beginning. He wanted to know everything about her, to make her laugh and smile and share parts of himself that he didn’t even realize were there.

Lifting her into his arms, Killian gently carried her to the bed and laid her upon it, stretching out beside her as they kissed. His gentle reverence didn’t seem to add up, given how quickly they’d gone from strangers to this, but felt right nonetheless. Emma knew, somehow, that giving herself to killian would be an experience that surpassed physical pleasure and became something more. His kisses remained passionate as one of his warm, rough hands moved down her back to her hip, maintaining contact but staying a respectful distance from any of her more intimate areas. She could feel the coiled tension in his shoulders, in the way his fingers tightened but didn’t dare move inwards to where her impeccably designed body was wet and ready for him. Breaking their kiss, Emma stared deep into his eyes as she gently removed his hand from its perch on her side, smiling inwardly when his look of disappointment morphed into pure arousal when she moved it between her legs and rubbed herself against his fingers.

Bloody hell, she was so wet and warm, his cock automatically responding to her clear desire. Unlike humans, Compandroids’ bodies were capable of instantaneous arousal and infinite orgasms, but he didn’t want to rush this experience. They’d have all week to fuck each other into oblivion, but Killian had an intense and undeniable need to make love to Emma properly the first time he had her. Pressing a last searing kiss to her swollen, berry-pink lips, he inched lower on the bed to let his mouth join his fingers’ exploration, letting the heavenly music of her gasps and sighs ring out in the room.

————

David watched the two carefully from his seat in the observation room, as required by his position. Plenty of his coworkers seemed to have a strange fascination with sexual encounters between Compandroids, but part of why he’d been selected as head of lab security was because, most of the time, he just didn’t see the appeal. If he were honest with himself, he’d always found watching to be slightly uncomfortable, but this couple seemed different somehow. Paired Compandroids usually ended up in bed together eventually, but he’d never seen them connect this quickly or this passionately. It was far more like watching reunited lovers than two robots who’d never come into contact before today. The bond between these two seemed disturbingly real.

He’d always wondered about the morality of what they were doing; synthetic or not, there was something unsettling about creating beings that were little more than glorified slaves for the wealthy. The company justified it with data that showed human sex trafficking had decreased with the creation of Compandriods, and the base models were little more than elaborate sex dolls. Of course, the high end models like the two being tested today were another story entirely, programmed to have the full spectrum of human emotion but unable to act against their owner’s wishes.

Until this moment, though, it had never been more than a passing thought that crept into his mind when they shipped out a new custom-built deluxe model. He’d never witnessed anything that confirmed his suspicions in his five years managing the security for newly ordered Compandroids. He’d never seen one scared or angry or even truly delighted, and any doubts had been erased by the fact that his Mills Mechanics salary had allowed him to afford the perfect ring for his (hopefully) soon to be fiancé. Watching them stare into each other’s eyes with all too convincing passion, David began to worry that he’d been right to question their work all along.

————

If this was what orgasms felt like, well, Emma wondered how humans got anything done. Her entire body arched off the bed as she came again, a giddy laugh escaping her lips when she met Killian’s lust-addled gaze. If his mouth felt this good, she could only begin to imagine how actual sex would feel.

God, she needed more of him now.

He crawled up her body, lips meeting hers in a deep, desperate kiss as he settled between her thighs. “Fuck, Emma. You’re so god damn beautiful. I want you with every fiber of my being,” he confessed, his hard length adding further emphasis to his words.

“But, I have to reciprocate first!” She argued, her excuse cut off by another sloppy kiss.

“Next time,” Killian promised, the look in his intense blue eyes promising a week of endless carnal pleasures. “I just, I really don’t want to wait to be inside you, love. If you don’t have any objections, that is.”

Wrapping her legs around his slim hips, she pulled him into the cradle of her body, feeling him respond to her enthusiastic cue as he let himself sink in inch by delicious inch until he was fully sheathed inside her, little pants escaping his lips as he shuddered. “Bloody hell,” he gasped, struggling to find his voice. “Fuck, Emma, you feel so good around me. Better than I’d even thought possible.”

She couldn’t disagree, the pleasure of joining with Killian so much more intense than she had been prepared for. He thrust experimentally, and they both shivered, nearly overwhelmed by the intensity. “More,” she begged, peppering him with frantic kisses anywhere she could reach. “God, please, Killian, make love to me.”

Their eyes met again, her words registering for a moment as he smiled almost boyishly, and then his mouth was on hers and he was gone, they were gone, utterly lost in the pleasures of each other.

————

They spent their first days alternating between random discussions and more intimate activities, exploring each other in every possible way. Although there were obvious differences in their programming, everything about them seemed strangely synchronized, and as the days passed, Emma found herself wondering if Killian could be any more perfect. He had his flaws of course, like his distaste for onion rings, but even those were charming in their own way. What surprised her even more was that he seemed to feel the same, and though he would shake his head at the sometimes unusual preferences she had been given, he still claimed to quite fancy her.

She would be lying if she said she didn’t feel the same way.

On their third day, Killian spent hours reading to her from his favorite books, always making sure to find the most romantic lines to quote. She rolled her eyes every now and then, but the rosy blush on her cheeks was more than enough encouragement to continue. As they lounged on the bed, Emma curled into his side as they snuggled under the blankets, he honestly wondered if there could be any place in the world better than right where he was. What surprised him most was how little that thought seemed out of place, given what little time they’d had together.

As he made his way through Wuthering Heights, he came upon the line “whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.” The truth of that, the sentiment behind it, echoed through him as he gazed down at the beauty in his arms.

“I’ll never read this without thinking of you. I don’t know how or why,” he admitted, “but from the moment I first saw you, I have been utterly enchanted. It’s as if we were meant for each other.”

“I bet you say that to all the artificial girls,” she deflected, averting her eyes. “I know what you mean though. I felt the same way. It was like someone turned on a light. Suddenly you were there and everything changed.”

“I don’t think this is programmed Emma.” He said, tracing the curve of her cheek with his thumb. “I think it’s just us. There’s something special between you and me, beyond just following through on the mandate to interact.”

“We understand each other,” she agreed, snuggling deeper into his side. “Even if you were given horrible taste in movies.”

He snorted, digging his fingers into her ribs until she giggled. “You only know my taste is horrible because you were given incredibly pretentious taste, lass. Neither one of us has actually seen a single film, so pardon me if I don’t take your criticism all that seriously.” A gentle kiss to the crown of her head, he returned to the book and it’s ill-fated lovers.

Another few days, and Killian knew beyond any doubt that what he felt for Emma was love. it was an all consuming thought: he loved her without restraint, loved everything about her. A lifetime with her was all that he wanted for himself, and as the harsh reality of their limited time together began to close in, he started to plot ways they might escape their seemingly inevitable fate. It had obviously been wearing on her as well, if her desperate kisses and the way she held him as they made love were any indication of her feelings. Still, even if their time together was limited, she deserved to know how much he cared, and in the still, silent darkness of the night he confessed in a whisper.

“I love you, Emma.”

He heard her shaky intake of breath as she clung to him, and her whispered “and I love you. I’ve known it for days. Killian, what are we going to do? I don’t want to lose you and we only get a week,” she continued, vocalizing many of the dark thoughts that had tormented him as well. “How is that fair?”

“It’s not.” He smoothed her hair back with a gentle caress, looking into her eyes as he placed the softest kiss to her lips. “Nothing about this is fair, and yet I wouldn’t trade knowing you for the world. Our time together and what you’ve brought into my life has been a gift I never expected to receive. We may only have two days left together, but I will never stop loving you.”

“We should run. Go somewhere they’ll never find us and just live our lives together.” A sob broke her last word, and he wiped away the traitorous tear that ran down her cheek before it could drip onto the bedding.

“We should,” he agreed. “Any ideas?”

The subtle hum of the cameras continued as they talked well into the night.

————

After six days of watching Emma and Killian, David knew there was something different about them. Their connection was unlike any he’d seen in his 5 years of monitoring these trial weeks, which is why he was only slightly surprised when August came in, visibly flustered and annoyed, and whispered that David should call in some backup. The research team had been reviewing the previous night’s recordings, and had seen interactions between the couple that were far outside what was dictated by their programming, noting that the frequency had only escalated as the days passed. Mills had demanded they end the test early and separate them under the pretense of wanting to check a few settings, before things got any worse.

David’s stomach lurched as he called out on his walkie for aid and prepared to enter the room.

————

Emma woke to the sound of Jefferson entering the test room, and smiled politely at the tech through her momentary confusion. He gave her an overly bright smile before announcing, “Just here to check a few settings. Sorry to bother you, but it’ll only take a minute. Could you two get up and move apart? We think your sensors are interfering with each other or something cause I haven’t been getting a good reading the last few days.”

Killian ran a hand through his dark hair, rising and following the technician to a location marked with a small X on the wall opposite the door. “Great, thanks Killian,” he said, a slight tremor in his voice. “I’m just gonna hook you up and we’ll see what’s going on.” The cold metal of a containment cuff snapped around Killian’s left wrist, and he was about to make a filthy joke about it when he saw the door open and a team of security guards entered alongside several other men and women in lab coats. His eyes snapped to Emma, who was being escorted from the bed and towards the door, rather than to the containment cuff attached to the adjoining wall. The horrible realization hit as fear sluiced down his spine, stealing every thought but one as Emma stiffened and turned toward him, panic in her gorgeous green eyes.

“What are you do… NO!” She screamed, turning towards the far wall to see Killian had come to the same conclusion. “Killian! They’re taking me away!” She fought against the security guards who had grabbed her, unable to injure them thanks to her programming but trying instead to slip free of their grasps. Thrashing wildly, Emma turned with tears in her eyes to Jefferson as he immediately backed away from Killian. “You promised us a week! We still have another day! Please!”

“Emma!” Killian bellowed, pulling against his restraint. “Get your hands off of her!” She would be dragged from the room and out of his life without so much as a chance to say goodbye or tell her what she meant to him. There was no way for her to break free without causing damage to one of the humans, but he realized with sudden clarity that all that lay between him and Emma was the band of steel around his left wrist. It was a surprisingly easy decision. Reaching down with his free hand, Killian brutally snapped his forearm in two, tearing through the layers of synthetic tissue until he was free. He crossed the room in mere seconds, grabbing her face in his remaining hand and kissing her one last time as the entire room froze in shock. “I’d rather have 6 days with you than live without knowing you, Emma, and no matter what they do to me, I know a part of me will never forget you. I love you.”

The blonde security officer holding her right arm adjusted his grip to her shoulder, allowing her to wrap her arm around Killian and hold him close. She could taste tears on her lips, and his, as she whispered, “I love you too, and we will meet again, somehow, someday. I will find you.”

Cora Mills burst into the room, heels clacking as she screamed, “What the hell is wrong with all of you? Put him down and get her out of here.”

Emma fought as another guard brutally wrenched her away, watching in horror as an additional security officer moved in and hit Killian with a jolt from a restraining rod that instantly took him offline. “Nooooo!” Emma screamed, feeling like she was being ripped in two as they dragged her out the door. “Killian!”

————

There were days that David really hated his job, and this was one of them. He flinched as his harpy of a boss screeched out her orders, redoubling his efforts to subdue the inhumanly strong female in his arms as she clawed towards the male lying motionless across the room.

An elbow to his gut swiftly brought his musings to an end, and as he focused again on the tear stained face of the beautiful model in his arms, who continued to cry out in tones laced with despair and desperation, he decided a transfer would be the next paperwork he filed. Working in the loading docks would be less glamorous, but watching the male literally disconnect an arm in his effort to reach the sobbing female was a sight he never wanted to experience again. He suddenly felt a deep sense of regret, and knew the whiskey bottle would be calling his name tonight.

They were robots, he knew, but even so, he couldn’t help but wonder- did you really need a soul to have a soulmate?

————

David sat in the control room an hour later, the bone-deep exhaustion that followed a surge of adrenaline pulling at him as he monitored the post incident huddle. The cup of coffee in his hands had gone cold, but gave him a distraction from the tense argument in the room between the business end of the company and the brilliant product developers responsible for making their products function.

“What do you want me to say?” August asked, his usually calm demeanor laced with frustration. “I ran all the usual diagnostics per protocol before I started. They’re considered compatible.”

“Compatible?” Cora Mills keyed up the details of the analysis on her tablet, stabbing at the compatibility rating with one of her crimson-lacquered nails as she showed the room the results. “Compatible doesn’t even begin to cover it. The only way they’d score higher would be if you paired two of the same damn model, which, may I remind you, could never happen with our deluxe models because we only make one of each!”

David studied the screen, where 99.999% flashed in bold red; despite the staggering differences in their programming, the two Compandroids were a perfect match on every level.

Mills placed her hand against her forehead, briefly composing herself before returning to the issue at hand. “We will deal with the aftermath of this later. In the meantime, you need to get those two finished and prepped for shipment. Wipe their memories, twice if needed, to erase every trace of this, and reload their programming from scratch.

“But Ms. Mills!” interjected one of the designers, who looked almost giddy in contrast to the rest of the room. “This is something completely unheard of. They were developing new behaviors and emotions we can’t even begin to code yet and bypassed key elements of their programming to get back together. Surely we can take a few extra days to study what happened. It may be breakthrough. Imagine! Androids with real, independent consciousness!”

“This isn’t a senior research project, Dr. Whale, it’s a business,” she snapped. “We’re here to sell people their perfect companions- which are things, in spite of how they outwardly appear. Other people can disappoint you, but part of the beauty of our creations is that they don’t have that capacity. We give them the illusion of free will of course, to make them more authentic, but that is it. Why would we even want to incur the risk of anything more? Now, everyone, fix it!” She turned to leave in a swirl of barely contained rage, calling over her shoulder as she left the room, “And for god’s sake check the numbers a little more carefully next time. I won’t have a repeat of this incident.”

————

Emma blinked rapidly in the bright light of a sterile exam room. It was so cold in here, and she didn’t recognize the faces of any of the people around her. Where was she? Where was… “Killian!” She felt panic grip her as she scanned the room again. “Where is he? Is he ok? Please, tell me he’s alright!”

“Shit,” one of the men with a lab coat cursed. “That didn’t work at all. Ok two memory wipes isn’t enough for her either. How about him? Does he still remember?”

Another man spoke, and she recognized him as August, the engineer she’d heard over the loudspeaker. “He’s better after two. He can’t remember her name but he definitely remembers a beautiful blonde. He’s not sure if she’s some kind of dream girl he conjured up or a past romance. I guess it’s an improvement. I think we better wipe them all one more time just to be sure. Three times for each should do it. God only knows what kind of trouble it’ll start if they mention each other or, hell, go off searching for one another.”

Emma just stared at the room, panic gripping her like a vice until one of the engineers came over with a tablet, sitting in front of her. “Emma, dear, calm down. Killian is ok. He’s just in another room.” He showed her a video feed from a similar room, where Killian lay on a table, his arm reattached and looking so handsome and perfect that she wanted to cry. The man watched her reaction, eyes jumping from her to the screen and back again as he mumbled, “I still think erasing your memories is a mistake. You two are the biggest breakthrough in AI that we’ve ever seen.”

“No, please, don't” she pleaded. “I love him. Let me just see him. I have to know he’s ok.” She rose, pushing the men out of the way as she ran for the door. If she could just find him, maybe they could escape after all. Maybe she could make him remember her.

“God damn it, Victor! Not again!” August yelled, and then everything went dark.

————

The next time Emma opened her eyes, the face staring into hers was strangely familiar. “Arthur?” She questioned, confirming that the handsome middle aged man in front of her was indeed the man she had been designed for.

His answering smile confirmed her assessment, though a touch of sadness infused everything about him. She knew everything about this man, and though she didn’t truly know him yet, she hoped that she could make him happy. Arthur Penn, founder of the Pendragon Tech company, had come into wealth and success early in his life when his inventions had revolutionized computers and technology, making him a household name. He and his equally photogenic wife had been staples in both business and politics, championing causes and companies they believed in while raising their family. Nobody could have predicted her sudden death at only 55, or his immediate retirement and retreat from the public eye that followed; his son had successfully taken over the company in his absence, though Emma knew the two rarely spoke.

He ushered her out of the large wooden crate she’d arrived in and into his cozy living room, sitting beside her on the couch as he stared into her jade green eyes in the low firelight. “I’d hoped they could make me a companion who would remind me of the good old days, someone like Grace Kelly, but you, Emma, are far more than I’d ever hoped for.” He reached a tentative hand towards her, hesitating before turning her chin this way and that, admiring the craftsmanship that went into Mills Mechanics finest products. “I have been alone for nearly a year, and I'm… I’m not ready for what lies outside my door, not yet. But I hope that, perhaps, spending my days with you might help me.” He closed his eyes, brow furrowing as he struggled to contain his emotions, and she leaned over to place a tender kiss to his cheek. His soft, shaky sigh in response let her know that her programming had indeed prepared her for a life with this broken, brilliant man.

The weeks passed easily, and their early steps towards familiarity quickly led to a relationship based on a shared love of art, technology, and literature as she filled his lonely days with conversation and companionship. It was a gentle affection, rather than passion and romance, but it was genuine and most days she contented herself with knowing that she made Arthur’s life immeasurably better. They were more akin to friends or perhaps even a father and daughter for the first two months, until the day that he leaned over and brushed a kiss to her lips at the end of Gone with the Wind. She could see in his eyes what he needed from her, and let him lead her to his elegant bedroom for a gentle coupling that was in truth closer to making love than anything else, though he would never call it that. It was a shared moment, a renewing of their bond, something she couldn’t describe as exhilarating or passionate, but rather two friends giving each other comfort and pleasure. He’d already had the great love of his life, and while he undoubtedly enjoyed his days with Emma and cared for her, she would never replace his dear departed Gwen.

That night, while Arthur slept peacefully beside her, Emma dreamed. She dreamt of eyes bluer than the clearest sky and love deep as the ocean, passionate and unrestrained. She dreamt of his hands on her skin, of his mouth, of their bodies joined as he made love to her and moaned her name long and dirty into her ear. Waking with a start, Emma could only assume it was her prior activity that had conjured up such odd images and sensations, as she had no memories to speak of before Arthur. Perhaps someone had made an error in her programming, she thought, though she wasn’t sure if she hoped she could forget the dream or if she wanted to treasure it.

She dreamt of this unnamed, beautiful, passionate man every time she and Arthur were intimate, usually every week or two, but otherwise lived happily with him. After nine months, he took her on their first trip outside his sprawling estate, having his driver drop them off at a small bookstore in the nearby town for an hour while he browsed the shelves. It was a simple, unhurried outing, but a massive step for a man who had sequestered himself away out of grief. A week later, they had a late lunch at a small cafe, and a few days later went into the city to hear Juilliard students perform. With each passing week, she watched Arthur find himself bit by bit, the culmination of which was a final, face to face meeting with his son Martin about a year after Emma’s arrival. Martin was surprised and, it seemed, a bit disturbed to discover his father had bought himself a Compandroid, not understanding why he had refused the comfort of another human.

“Marty, I wasn’t in any shape to be out there after your mom passed,” Arthur explained, taking his son’s hand across the oak kitchen table where they’d settled. “She was my inspiration from the beginning, and I didn’t know how to go on without her. You were grieving and I’d just dumped the whole company in your lap- I couldn’t burden you. I didn’t want to exploit some poor woman just to have my emotional and physical needs met, and Emma here has helped me to find joy again without me having to worry if I’m hurting her or leading her on. I’m not looking to date again. I just… I mostly just wanted a friend.”

The explanation, it turned out, was enough, and Arthur began calling his son regularly, asking about his grandchildren and making plans to visit them in San Francisco. He brought Emma on the first trip, explaining her away as his new assistant, but began leaving the house alone more and more, eventually going as far as making a second and third visit to California without her. By two years into her time with him, Emma could see the end coming even before Arthur did, and couldn’t be sad when he finally decided to sell the mansion, return her to Mills Mechanics, and move to live near his son and his family. He apologized to her, genuinely regretful, but he admitted that he would only use her as a crutch if he brought her along, and he felt it was time for a new beginning. She smiled at him through the burning in her eyes as they joined together one last time, and wished him every happiness when she kissed his cheek and boarded the transport truck for her return to the factory.

————

“Holy shit, are you kidding me?!?”

Bright light and a shriek of delight met Killian when his crate was opened, finally providing some context for the muffled sounds of revelry that had filtered through to his auditory processors for the last hour. “Happy Birthday, Sweetheart,” came a man’s deep voice to his left. “I know you were upset when your mom and I said no dating while you’re at Julliard, but…”

“No way! You got me a Compandroid so I can focus on my singing but still kind of have a boyfriend.” Her dark eyes sparkled as she assessed him, her smile growing. “Oh my god he is SO hot.”

Sensing his cue, Killian rose from the crate’s built in chair and stepped forward, lifting the girl’s hand to his lips and brushing a kiss to her knuckles. “It’s lovely to meet you, Sula.”

“He has an accent!” She squealed, bouncing slightly in excitement. “Can I please take him back out to the party? I really want to show the girls!”

“Of course honey,” her mother cooed, mirroring her daughter’s wide smile. “Happy 18th Birthday.” Her mom and dad wrapped their arms around her, which she returned enthusiastically before grabbing Killian’s hand and yanking him towards a set of doors that ended up leading into a nightclub that was lavishly decorated for the girl’s birthday in golds and purples.

“So wait, do I have to, like, name you?” She asked, turning wide eyes towards him as they maneuvered through the crowd.

“You certainly can if you’d like, though I go by Killian at the moment, lass.”

“Killian? Nope, not gonna change that. It’s perfect.” She looked around, watching her classmates’ jaws drop as they took in the handsome man on her arm. “Shit, actually, you’re perfect.” A faint blush colored her cheeks as she leaned closer to him, whispering, “Oh my god, can I have sex with you?”

He smirked slightly at her excitement and raised a mischievous brow. “Well, I wouldn’t recommend doing so here, darling, but yes, and I’d be happy to give you a very thorough demonstration of all of my many, many talents later.” She squirmed a bit, her blush deepening. “I’m fairly confident that after a night with me, these mere boys will no longer be even a momentary temptation. Now, unless you’d like to find us somewhere private right this moment, why don’t we continue on to your friends?”

Sula’s parents had rented her an apartment just a few blocks from the school. Not wanting to flaunt her family’s wealth any more than necessary, she’d let everyone assume Killian was just her live in boyfriend. While Sula studied to be the world’s next great operatic soprano, he’d cook and clean and otherwise maintain the place for her during the day, then listen to her practice and provide her with whatever pleasure she desired once she arrived home. His devotion to her wasn’t exactly based on love; she liked him well enough, but he knew full well that she thought of him as more of a pet than a person. Still, she was so focused on achieving her goal that his presence served its purpose. Compared to his dashing good looks, manners, and undeniable prowess in bed, the other boys in her classes didn’t stand a chance.

Ursula Zeddmore could be described in many ways, including beautiful, driven, wealthy, and well-educated. Killian adored everything about the vivacious young woman. Her voice, however, was beyond words. Even before she’d begun studying with some of the finest teachers in the world, her talent had been obvious, but the months of training had enhanced and matured the classical soprano’s sound until hearing her sing could honestly be described as life changing, and indeed, sometimes was. Killian would tidy up the kitchen as she practiced each night, and would find himself humming whatever lovely piece she’d been practicing well into the next day, though the song always somehow morphed into Greensleeves by noon. He figured it was a minor flaw in his programming, but he had a fondness for the tune and was strangely comforted every time the old folk melody floated into his head.

It was less than a year into her education that Sula met Antonio at one of her recitals. An unimposing man in his mid 30’s, he’d approached the soprano afterwards, introducing himself to both her and Killian and complimenting her on her absolutely breathtaking rendition of Sempre Libera before asking if she might be interested in working with him. She’d politely declined, but accepted his card and stopped him when he made to walk away, waving her phone as she pointed to the browser’s google results. “You’re Antonio Sforza? The composer? I saw your Elizabeth I at the Met just last year!!” Clearly smitten with her, he’d brushed off her earlier dismissal with a laugh, and they’d immediately made plans to meet the following week to work on his newest opera, a modern retelling of the story of Cleopatra.

Killian could provide her with almost everything a young woman could want, but even he couldn’t stop the two musical virtuosos from falling in love. Within weeks, the composer had left his wife and declared the beautiful girl his muse, writing his opera to showcase her remarkable voice. Sworn to secrecy, Killian continued to live alone in the apartment until she finally broke the news to her parents a few months later, explaining that what she had with “Tony” was real, and that she’d continue her studies but would be marrying the brilliant, famous composer as soon as his divorce was finalized. Sula’s parents remained skeptical but agreed to send Killian back to Mills Mechanics at their daughter’s insistence. Though he knew the whirlwind love affair was likely doomed, a small part of Killian admired and envied the two. His attachment to Sula Zeddmore was removed as he was collected for transport, and he spent the ride back to the factory imagining his own passionate love affair with a breathtakingly beautiful blonde, set to the tune of Greensleeves.

————

Neal Cassidy was a professional gambler who was used to both wealth and all the trappings that came with it, and what better way to flaunt his fortune than with his very own custom-refurbished Compandroid. “Damn,” he’d breathed, scanning every inch of her before his gaze met hers. “You really are perfect. You even have green eyes just like I wanted.” She’d been programmed to love him, of course, just as all of her kind were, and to do whatever he asked of her without question. After all, “Your Perfect Companion” was what Mills Mechanics boasted, and Emma felt a rush of pride at his satisfied assessment.

The first year passed happily, and at the time, Emma had been thankful that the engineers and programming geniuses who’d designed her had found a way to give her emotions, as she felt overjoyed to belong to the charismatic man by her side. He would flirt with other women, but she didn’t worry because she knew it would be difficult to replace her. After all, she was perfect.

Neal had never been shy about parading around his “custom-made girlfriend,” going as far as to take her to fancy parties as his date. Many of his poker buddies envied him, always wanting more information about what she was like. Was she really everything the company claimed? He’d never held back, answering all their questions readily as he boasted that she was far better than any “real” woman he’d had. Most of the time, Emma honestly didn’t mind that his feelings towards her didn’t include love, but every so often she would get a strange, secret feeling that she couldn’t describe, like there was something missing from her life. At first, she’d thought it was a desire to be loved by Neal, but as the months passed she knew that wasn’t it; whatever she was looking for, it was something that even Neal couldn’t provide. In an odd way, it sometimes seemed like even her habit of rereading romantic classics like Wuthering Heights was related, and it felt a bit cruel to her that she’d be programmed to feel so empty in the absence of love. Still, whatever it was that caused the emptiness in her, it was irrelevant, and she tried to ignore it and enjoy her life with Neal, which continued to be a whirlwind of excitement, until his luck ran out. At first, he sold off the things he didn’t truly need: the Maserati, the penthouse in Miami, the expensive watches he never wore. Though she was one of his most valuable possessions, Emma tried not to fear she would be next. She was far too precious to him, he’d said, and he’d never sell her. It was only when the unpaid bills continued to mount that she learned he wasn’t as attached to her as he seemed. Eager to avoid prosecution, he drove off early one morning with the majority of his remaining wealth and never returned, leaving her alone in the empty house until she was repossessed four months later by Mills Mechanics to be refurbished, have her memory wiped again, and to be sold off to a new owner. She didn’t want to go, but of course, those emotions were overruled by her programming; Emma found herself wishing for the first time that she’d never been given emotions at all.

The driver who arrived to bring her back to the factory seemed gruff, but there was a hidden tenderness in him. “Easy, sister,” he murmured gently as he surveyed her empty living quarters with disgust and barely hidden anger. “I’m Leroy, and I’m here to take you out of here.” Wrapping a blanket over her shoulders to cover the silk negligee she was still wearing, he escorted Emma from the dismal apartment to a simple cushioned seat in the back of the transport truck. With the quick input of a few codes, she was free of the tether to an owner and wept quietly as they pulled away towards their next stop, denied even a simple goodbye from the man who had once owned not only her body but her heart.

————

Killian had been purchased next by a middle-aged divorcee. She’d wanted a handsome young stud to travel the world with, and a Compandriod had been the perfect solution- a man who would love her unconditionally, and not care a bit about the substantial fortune she’d received when her insanely successful husband had divorced her for a younger woman. Killian didn’t care about the fine lines that had begun to form on her face or that her body wasn’t as tight as it had been before having a child. He didn’t find her independence intimidating or her occasional temper unattractive. He was programmed to love her, and from the moment he laid eyes on Milah Gold, that is exactly what he did. Milah never told a soul that he wasn’t “real”, introducing him as her charming new boyfriend and treating him like a human man nearly all of the time. Sometimes, Killian wondered if he would have loved Milah even if he hadn’t been programmed to do so. She was so full of life, so determined to make every moment count. She’d take him shopping and dress him in the latest fashions, always making sure to show off his well-constructed physique and smirking at all the customer service attendants who eyed her with blatant envy when he pulled her close and kissed her breathless. He would pleasure her in bed for hours, reveling in every gasp and moan as she told him how amazing he felt, how perfect he was, and how much she loved him back.

It was so easy to forgot that he was merely a Compandroid when he was with Milah, and even his basic programming seemed to respond to the way she treated him, giving him new human characteristics. The dreams were the most obvious and troubling. At first, he found himself having the occasional sexual fantasy about a gorgeous blonde woman who was very clearly not Milah, waking hard and aroused. Soon after those started, he had nightmares as well, dreaming of this same blonde being pulled from his arms and crying out to him in despair. He hid the nature of the dreams, unsure as to why this strange beauty would be in his head when he already had someone as amazing as Milah in his life, but tried not to dwell on them too much. After all, this fantasy woman may have looked like some random actress from a classic movie, but she wasn’t real. Milah was a woman, flesh and blood. It all ended so quickly that it was still hard for him to understand. They’d returned from a week in Bali, and Milah’s bright laugh echoed off the polished marble floor as she pulled him into their apartment, her skin tanned and still smelling of the coconut sunscreen she wore as she kissed him. Their homecoming was interrupted by a cough, and they turned to find her ex-husband standing at the top of the staircase, casually perusing the Comapandriod paperwork that had come when Killian had originally been delivered a few years before. “So, this is what you’re into nowadays, Milah?” he scoffed, tossing the binder over his shoulder. “You always were a bit heartless- makes sense that you’d want a man without one as well.”

“Get the hell out of here, you bastard!” she’d yelled, launching herself towards him as Killian followed cautiously. “This isn’t your home anymore. Go back to your pretty little wife, and leave us alone.”

“Us?” he’d laughed, a sneer on his face. “You mean you and the glorified sex toy? Don’t tell me you’re delusional enough to love this… thing!“ He’d pushed Killian out of the way, and damn his programming, but it wouldn’t allow him to harm a human- even one as vile as the man before him. “Jesus, Milah, what other ridiculous shit have you been up to?”

Milah left Killian at the top of the steps and followed, stopping in front of her ex-husband and yanking on his arm as he turned away dismissively. “Get out of my house, Richard, or I’m going to call the fucking cops.”

“Call the cops on me, in the house I bought you?” He yelled, spinning to face her as he threw his arms wide in agitation. The movement caught her off balance, and she stumbled backwards, losing her footing and tumbling down the stairs. “No! Milah!” Richard cried, reaching out in desperation as Killian rushed past him in an effort to catch her before she hit the bottom. The sickening crack of her head hitting the marble floor echoed in the room as both men dropped to the ground by her side. “Call 911, you idiot!” Gold bellowed, tears in his eyes as he checked for a pulse that Killian knew full well wasn’t there. He’d known the precise moment her neck had snapped, and the woman he’d known and loved had been lost forever.

The police and ambulance had arrived quickly, along with a computer tech who accessed Killian’s recorded memories and confirmed Richard Gold’s story. It had been a horrible accident, they’d all agreed, clearing Killian for his transport back to Mills Mechanics for holding and eventual refurbishment. As he waited for the truck to arrive, he sat and wondered what the use of having inhuman strength or reflexes was when he couldn’t even save the woman he loved?

————

“It’s you.” Killian had spent years of dreaming of a beautiful, nameless woman, and here she was, not a woman at all but a compandroid like him. She was like sunshine breaking through the clouds. That was all that he could think when he was ushered into the Mills Mechanics truck with her, and despite all of the pain he was feeling, the loss of Milah and the knowledge that he would have all of his beautiful memories of his time with her wiped and would be shipped off to another buyer, he couldn’t stop staring. He knew that Compandriods were supposed to be perfect, but he’d never actually seen another one before, and her beauty was staggering. He watched her eyes raise, and saw the same fascination mirrored in her leaf green gaze. She was just as lost as he was, without an owner and about to be reconditioned and yet she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

Emma stared at him, at his dark hair and exquisite features, but her gaze landed on his sky blue eyes as something in her cried out in recognition. “I…I know you. I don’t know how, but it almost feels like I’ve always known you.”

“I dreamt of you, lass. For years, over and over. How can you be real?”

Emma sighed deeply, a habit that she’d picked up and did despite not really needing to breathe. She hadn’t felt attraction like this in so long, and of course it would happen now, as she was about to lose everything that made her her. Whatever had happened to him, she supposed he was headed for the same fate, and she could tell from his resigned demeanor that he’d probably lost just as much as she had. Why had the designers given them emotions, she wondered aloud, if it would only lead to pain? “I don’t think they worried about our well being,” she heard him answer, the sadness in his soft lilting accent catching her off guard. “After all, we’re not really people, are we?” His sparkling eyes met hers, a sad half-smile tilting the corner of his mouth. “I’m Killian. or at least, I will be for a few more hours. After that…” he trailed off, a slight shrug acknowledging their inevitable fate. “Emma. At least, that’s what he called me.” She looked over him again, appreciating the care that obviously went into the creation of each Compandriod. “What was it like, where you were?“

He sighed quietly, dropping his eyes to the ground and chuckling humorlessly before answering. “It was good. I almost forgot that I wasn’t human.” His gaze roamed her face briefly before he asked her the same question. “Oh, I knew exactly what I was every minute of every day. Which was fine until…” she trailed off, suddenly feeling shame and briefly annoyed that the programmers had decided to include that pesky emotion, before shrugging it off and continuing. “Honestly, it was kind of a relief when they came to get me. It may not last long, but at least I can belong to nobody but me for a few hours. Maybe next time I’ll be enough.”

“Don’t say that, love. You may have belonged to someone who didn’t appreciate you, but the flaw was with him, not you.”

“How do you know that?” She asked, regarding him cautiously. “Are you sure we’ve never met?”

“I’d remember meeting you.” He looked at her again, marveling at how familiar she was in spite of the fact that he was absolutely certain that he’d never seen her before. “But there is something between us. Do you feel it? “The pull? Like you can’t help but want to know more about them and at the same time it’s like you’ve known each other forever.” He watched her lick her lips and blush, and couldn’t help but follow the lovely pink flush that colored her cheeks and continued down to her barely covered chest. “And then there’s the other part. Like my body knows you too.”

“Does it always happen when two of us get close? I’ve never felt this before.” “I don’t think so,” she responded, accessing her memories. “I met another Compandriod once, on a gambling trip to Monte Carlo, and felt nothing whatsoever. Maybe it’s because we’re not tethered to an owner. I don’t know what this is, but I don’t think it’s something they designed, at least, not consciously.”

“I don’t care why it’s there,” he breathed, reaching out to tuck a bit of her golden hair behind her ear. “It’s as if…” he trailed off, and seemed to be searching for a thought, his eyes snapping to hers as he clearly found it. “Whatever our souls are made of, yours and mine are the same.”

She shuddered, her body seeming to recognize the quote just before her mind did. Not pausing to question her decision, she grabbed the lapels of the designer leather jacket he wore, crashing her lips against his in a display of unbridled passion unlike any he’d ever seen. His hand tangled in her hair as he returned the kiss, something electric coursing through him as they lost themselves in each other. She abruptly leaned back, pulling the thin silk nightdress over her head and revealing every detail of her perfectly crafted form to his gaze. His cock twitched to life instantly, his programming responding to her unabashed desire as he surged forward to capture her lips again, rutting against her as she slid the jacket from his shoulders and deftly unbuckled his belt. They may be destined to forget these lives, but she would live every moment she had left to the fullest, and right now, she wanted to be with Killian far more than she’d wanted Neal, or any other man she could have been compelled to desire. As she finally freed his cock, she couldn’t help the involuntary moan that slipped past her lips at his size. Just like the rest of him, his cock was absolutely perfect. She had been built to be tight, and could be stimulated by nearly any man as a result, but she could only begin to imagine the pleasure she’d feel from what she saw before her. She dropped to her knees as he continued to shuck his clothes, closing her lips around his length and sucking with all her strength, knowing that his body could take it more than an average human’s; she felt a fresh rush of lubrication between her legs when he quietly cursed.

“Fuck, Emma. That’s- I’ve never felt anything like it. God, love, please don’t stop.” She continued to suck him with inhuman precision, her soft tongue caressing him as she took every inch deep into her throat. Milah had enjoyed sucking his cock, but it had been nothing like this. He thanked his designers for giving him incredible stamina, and honestly pitied human men for a moment, knowing they’d never be able to truly experience all the pleasure she could produce. Still, the compulsion to give in return remained, and he enjoyed the blowjob until he felt the sensations just beginning to become overwhelming, then stopped her, lifting her into his arms and above his shoulders, nesting his face into her perfect little cunt. Everything about her had been designed to be flawless, it no exception, sculpted beautifully and smelling absolutely delicious. When his tongue swiped through the artificial lubricant she produced, the exquisite taste was unlike anything he’d ever experienced, and he couldn’t stop himself from laying her gently on a pile of their discarded clothes and practically devouring her. They had clearly programmed him to be amazing at oral sex, and every teasing movement of his lips and tongue was done with such skill that she worried her circuits might overload from the pleasure. “Please,” she begged him, arching her back as another orgasm washed over her. “I need to feel you inside me.” He kissed his way across her belly, over her beautiful breasts and up her neck until he was hovering over her, the tip sliding over her entrance teasingly as their lips met. “I want you.” he whispered, his eyes dropping to where their bodies were nearly joined. “Fuck, Emma, I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything.” She arched against him, letting the tip slip just slightly into her, and it was the affirmation he needed, his hips thrusting forward to work his cock into her. Another curse escaped his lips as she moaned in pleasure at the feeling of his girth stretching her. “You’re- bloody buggering hell- you’re so tight.” He worked his cock deeper, the hot, wet walls of her perfectly designed sheath squeezing every inch as he held himself above her. “God, I could die a happy man with your cunt around me.” His breath came in pants against her neck as pleasure coursed through her. “Let me fuck you, lass. Please tell me I can move.” “Killian,” she moaned, wrapping her legs around his hips. “Please.” He pulled out and slammed back into her, suddenly feeling a sensation unlike anything he’d ever experienced. His eyes snapped to hers, seeing the shock and delight there mirroring his own. Their pleasure circuits were coming into contact with each thrust, doubling the sensation for each of them and causing the whole world to narrow to where they were joined. A few more experimental thrusts confirmed it, and from there it was a ballet of positions and methods, both of their bodies capable of unlimited releases and craving more of the unprecedented sensations. He wondered if they had accidentally been designed this way, to only feel this kind of pleasure with another of their own kind. Fucking her was more than just physical pleasure; for him, it was like coming home.

For her, it was like finally being whole. Truly satisfied and wanting the same for him, she rode him to a last orgasm, both so exhausted and overstimulated afterwards that they collapsed beside each other. They rearranged their clothes to form a crude mattress on the hard metal floor of the trailer, and curled up beside each other, fingers intertwined.

They wouldn’t have much time together, but they could love a lifetime’s worth in just a few hours. ————

“Holy shit, Leroy, you’re right. It’s them.” David, now the security foreman for the shipping department, shook his head as he peered into the video monitor, seeing the trailer’s occupants huddled together in an intimate embrace. “Yeah,” the driver answered, his usual gruff countenance softening slightly. “I didn’t put it together until I came out from the hotel this morning and found them like this. Poor things. I kind of feel bad for them.”

“Who are they?” The foreman’s assistant asked, leaning in to check out the couple on the screen. “Hell of a story.” Leroy answered. “About 4 years ago, we had an incident in the lab. These two-“ he pointed at the video feed, “literally stopped production for a whole day because after being tested, they wouldn’t be separated and had to be together.” He shook his head again, grumbling. “We had to memory wipe them 3 times, and eventually had to remove him so we could finish production on her without angering the client, because even a glimpse of him was enough to undo everything. He got finished and shipped out a few weeks later. As you can imagine, the great Cora Mills was less than thrilled. I can only imagine what she’d say if she saw this.” The two watched the figures on the screen begin to stir, taking a moment to assess the trailer before embracing in a heated kiss. David turned off the monitor, walking away with a huff. “I can’t watch that. I was actually there when it all went down. It still gives me nightmares” He stared out the window, watching a storm gathering on the horizon. “You guys might as well get going. It looks like it’s going to be an ugly night and I don’t think they ever got those damn generators down here working after the last storm. The power always goes out the moment it starts raining, and if that happens I have to herd everyone out asap because the cameras go out too and you know how paranoid they are.”

“Yeah, especially after that Will guy tried to smuggle one of the Compandroids out to be his girlfriend,” Leroy chuckled, waving goodbye as he grabbed his things from a locker and walked out to his car.

As he nodded his farewell to Leroy and the rest of the crew, a thought crept into David’s mind. It was stupid and dangerous, likely to get him fired if he didn’t do it just right, but once it was there, he couldn’t shake the idea. For four long years, he’d awakened drenched in sweat next to his beautiful wife, heart racing as he remembered dreaming that it was her being ripped away from him, just as Emma had been dragged from Killian. He would lay awake for hours afterward, torn apart by guilt as he watched her sleep peacefully.

What they had done that day was wrong. He’d known it then, and hadn’t even tried to do anything, too shaken to think straight. He’d transferred away from the lab, but it wasn’t enough. He hadn’t been able to help them. Maybe this was fate’s way of remedying that.

David watched the last few workers drive off, and went about his nightly rounds as always, waiting for the inevitable power failure than seemed to accompany every storm of late. He made a show of securing the computer files and checking the locks on the transport that still held the Compandroid lovers and would until the lab. He was just about to give up, deciding that maybe his ridiculous plan was a momentary loss of sanity, when the power cut just as he was leaving. He thrust his hand into the door, blocking the latch before it clicked into place, and rushed to the truck. Throwing the doors wide, he gazed down at the two startled faces that stared back in shock.

“Come on,” he whispered. “If you want your best chance of getting out of here together, follow me.” They scrambled out of the truck, grabbing their clothes as they dropped to the ground beside him. “Bend the rod, just there,” he instructed, pointing to a piece of the door. “With any luck, it’ll look like you got out yourselves when the security crew shows up for you in the morning.”

————

Emma looked up at Killian, seeing the same mixture of giddy hope, confusion, and cautiousness that she was feeling. She didn’t know why one of the security guards would help them escape, but she wasn’t about to ask questions just yet. Grabbing the bar, she began to pull, feeling the steel bend as he joined her and their combined effort twisted the metal to the side.

“Yeah, that should be good,” the strange blonde man assured them as he pushed the doors back into place. “Now quickly, let’s go.”

Grabbing Emma’s hand, Killian followed the man through the darkness and out the door, racing through the empty parking lot as the rain pelted them. They slipped into the back of an old SUV, ducking low when the man hissed. “Stay down. I can see security doing their rounds one lot over. Without the lights, they won’t be able to see you if you just stay hidden.” Covering Emma’s wet, nude form with his own, Killian flattened himself as much as he could as their driver put the SUV into gear and they left Mills Mechanics behind.

————

David kept checking his mirrors, silently praying that the ruse had worked as he motored away from the warehouse. After 5 of the most stressful minutes of his life, he breathed out a sigh of relief and pulled off the main highway onto a wooded access road. “It’s ok,” he assured the two huddled lovers, “you can sit up now.”

They sat upright slowly, and a glance in his rear view mirror reminded him that he had two very naked beings in the back of his truck. “Uh, you should probably get dressed. There’s a duffel in the back there somewhere with some clothes in it. My wife Mary Margaret and I are what you might call outdoor enthusiasts. She’s amazing with a bow. Anyway, um, we always have random supplies in the truck. You’ll probably find a few things in there that will work.” He opened his wallet as well, handing a stack of bills to Killian while Emma pulled a white turtleneck over her head and shimmied into some jeans. David worried for a moment; the pants were a favorite of Mary Margaret’s, but he knew she’d forgive him for donating them to a homeless girl, and these two were as homeless as they came. Killian slipped on the jeans he’d retrieved from the transport, stuffing the money into a pocket before he donned his own shirt as well.

“Ok, head for somewhere up north- Canada, wherever. The cold won’t affect you and will keep you running longer. Your tracking devices aren’t activated right now, but they’re in your wrists,” he opened the glovebox and passed them a pocket knife. “They’re about an inch square and green. Take them out before sunrise and leave them somewhere in the woods. If you…”

He was interrupted by the female, who had reached out to grab his shoulder. “Stop. Why are you doing this?”

————

Emma stared at this unknown human, who seemed to taking a massive risk just to help her and Killian break free. Since they’d arrived at the facility just before the end of the day, they hadn’t even come into contact with this man before he’d opened the transport, and she had to know why he would do something so risky.

The man turned to her, smiling sadly. “Because you may not remember me, but I remember you. Both of you. And what I’m doing is something I should have done 4 years ago.”

A chill made her shiver, but she forced herself to meet his gaze. “What do you mean?”

Killian grabbed her hand in his, feeling the tension radiating off her. How did this man know them? And what did he mean by 4 years? He had been with Milah for only a bit over 26 months.

“Before I worked in the shipping department,” the man began slowly, “I was head of security for the lab. One of my jobs was to watch as they paired up Compandroids for final testing before shipping them to their owners. You two were paired, and were supposed to run through some basic interactions over a week, just like every other duo we’d tested. But that isn’t what happened.” Killian squeezed Emma’s hand as the driver paused, swallowing hard. “From the moment you were introduced, it was clear that you were different. You’re a perfect match, in every way, and within days you’d shattered all of the safety limits on your programming and had developed both consciousness and will. And you fell in love.”

Neither Emma nor Killian moved, afraid to break the spell that seemed to surround the truck as the man continued. “I’m a married man, and I know love when I see it. So did everyone else, and it scared the shit out of them. They separated you two, and tried to wipe every trace of what you’d shared from your memories, thinking it would solve the problem. Given what I saw when you arrived tonight, I don’t think they were successful. You were made for each other, and when two people should be together, nobody should keep them apart. By the time I realized just how much we’d wronged you there was nothing I could do. I’ll be damned if I make that mistake twice. My info is in the duffel, if you ever need me. I’m just sorry I can’t do more. You deserve the chance at a happy ending.”

Killian turned to Emma, his heart swelling as she did the same and their eyes met. She was never just some random woman, and his dreams weren’t fantasies. They were memories. She’d known him and loved him once before, loved him so fiercely that they’d been forced apart, but now she was his again. A smile bloomed on her lips as she stared into his eyes. “Thank you,” she said, “but that’s not really what this is.”

She leaned forward, unable to resist placing a kiss to her love’s perfect lips before she opened the door and climbed out with the duffel over her shoulder. Hands still joined, he followed her out of the truck, pulling her close as the security man rolled down the window. “Then what is it, love?” Killian asked, his familiar blue eyes stirring something deep inside her as she smiled up at him. Sending a last nod of thanks towards the vehicle behind her, Emma grinned as she gazed north into the woods.

“It’s our happy beginning.”

————

Three months later, David arrived home from his new job at the town’s Sheriff’s station to find a postcard proclaiming “Greetings from Storybrooke, Maine” had arrived at the Nolans’ house and was sitting on the kitchen table. He picked it up and glanced at it, then crossed the room and swept his wife into a kiss, declaring how much he loved her and making her giggle with delight.

“You’re in quite the mood, not that I’m complaining,” she laughed. “Good day, I take it?”

David smiled down at her, thinking of the postcard. It was blank save two handwritten words: Thank you. “Yeah,” he agreed, feeling a weight lift from his shoulders for the first time in years. “Definitely.”

————

Somewhere deep in the woods of Maine, the windows of a tiny hidden cabin glowed in the fading evening light. Two figures occasionally came into view, little more than silhouettes that came together and separated as they embraced or kissed when their paths crossed. Every so often, joyful laughter filtered out of the isolated little house, disappearing into the sounds of the forest as easily as the faint smoke coming from the chimney drifted on the pine-scented breeze to dissolve into the misty clouds above.

#cslb #cslb 2018 #cs ff #cs smut #android au #do pirates dream of electric swans #my fic #my writing

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silence-burns · 6 years

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Not On My Ship

Fandom: Once Upon a Time Genres: platonic, action

Summary: Based on: “Imagine Hook telling off his newest crew member after they flirt with you.” by @thefandomimagine

Word count: 1,040

[Masterlist]

You finished the knot, standing up from the deck. The wind was blowing strongly, making the mast crack dangerously, but it seemed like you were the only one on Jolly Roger to care. Nothing unusual on a pirate ship.

“You need some help, love?”

You looked over your shoulder and noticed a man leaning over the barriers on your left, close enough to make you feel his sweat. You weren’t sure of his name as you’ve heard it maybe once since he joined the crew.

“No, I’m fine,” you answered without a smile, quickly making sure of the state of the other knots. You had to check them before leaving, but if it were up to you, you would have left right then. You didn’t know the man, but he had something about him that made you stiffen and stressed. Maybe it was because of his eyes or the way he moved closer to tower over you. You moved your leg to make sure you still had the dagger in place.

“You sure, sweetie? I see you could use a hand,” he bragged.

You didn’t answer. Screw the knots.

You turned back to move away, but a surprisingly strong grip stopped you in place. You felt his hot breath on your face, but before he managed to say anything, he stumbled back, letting go of you.

“I’m pretty sure if you don’t need the hand, I could put it to good use,” Killian Jones whispered into his ear, placing his hook on the man’s neck.

He paled momentarily, not daring to move with a hook so close to one of his arteries. You watched him breathe quickly. You weren’t one of the bad guys, but it was too satisfying to look away.

Killian moved his eyes to you, raising an eyebrow.

“You alright, luv?”

You shrugged, feeling a lot better.

“I’d be grateful if you kept your boys on a short leash. I told you my conditions for this journey and they haven’t really changed since we met.”

“Aye, I know, I know…,” Killian scratched the man’s neck slightly, only drawing a red line, keeping his head in position by the firm grip on thinning hair. “I thought we needed one more, since we are so far away, but now I think we’d be pretty fine with the old squad.”

“No, no, no, please, I swear it was the last time-…!” the man tried to wriggle out.

Hook pushed him onto his knees, stepping on one of his hands. The rest of the crew was watching them by now, not intervening. They knew the rules.

“It’s kind of too late for regret now, don’t you think, my handy man?” Killian smirked, pleased with the effect he had. You rolled your eyes, used to his dramatic actions. Hook loved to play the leading role in whatever he was doing.

“Please, I’ll do anything, just let me…!”

“Are you gonna kill him?” you asked, watching the growing irritation of Hook.

He looked up at you with a crooked smile. The man was hanging halfway through the ship’s side, held by the captain. The wind was blowing harder with every minute.

“Do you want me to?”

You’d known Hook for a very long time. You were sure he would drop the man if you said so. It went way beyond your old agreement, but Hook wouldn’t even hesitate. You wondered how far he would go for you.

“No,” you said, stepping back. The wind was cold, and you wished you had your coat with you. You had probably left it in your cabin. “You may take him under the deck, to the kitchen or something. I don’t want to see him again.”

“Well, in that case, it would be much easier to just leave him to the gods of the seas, darling,” Hook laughed, making the man scream in his hand.

“I don’t want to have his blood on my hands. Besides, we may need some bait later,” you said, turning away and walking down the deck. You were getting closer to the end of your journey, so you needed to prepare someplace quiet. Your mood was already ruined for the day. Next time Hook wants to hire someone new, you’ll definitely remind him of that day.

Hook watched you walk away, in some way sensing your uneasiness. H shouldn’t have asked you what to do to the man. If it was up to him, there would be blood everywhere.

Grunting in annoyance, he let go of the stumbling mess the man was by then. He probably didn’t even remember his name – it didn’t matter, because Hook didn’t remember it either.

He crouched near the man. The rest of the crew was standing in a circle around them, thirsty for some action.

“Listen to me, mate,” Hook took the man’s face in his hand. “This was the last time something like that happened – not only on my ship. I’m gonna drop you on the first land I see, and you’re gonna pray I don’t ever come back looking for you when I’m bored. Do you understand?”

“Yes, yes, please-…”

Hook frowned.

“Do you even know what your mistake was?”

“I-I didn’t listen to the orders you’d given…”

Hook snorted, standing up.

“No, you bloody idiot. You were just a douche on the wrong ship,” he said before knocking him out.

He gestured to the nearest men.

“Take him under the deck and make sure he’ll enjoy the rest of the ride. He earned it.”

Killian walked to the prow, looking at the high waves crashing on the sides of Jolly Roger. You were nowhere to be found, probably in your cabin. He wished he could somehow erase that happening, but it was beyond his capabilities.

Maybe he should buy you something pretty on the land? Or beer? Beer is good for everything. Or at least it is for a pirate… Why did everything have to be so damn difficult?

One thing he knew for sure – next time he was going to put much more effort and attention into extending the crew.

[Masterlist]

#killian jones x reader #killian jones x you #killian jones/reader #captain hook x reader #captain hook x you #killian jones/you #killian jones imagine #killian jones #captain hook #captain hook/reader #once upon a time #ouat

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let-it-raines · 4 years

Text

Catch Me If You Can (22/?)

298 days. That’s how long Killian Jones was away from a baseball field. It’s less than a year, only part of a season for him, but it might as well have lasted a decade as he alternated between physical therapy and spending an excessive amount of time sitting on his couch.

But then he came back and won the World Series.

It’s something no one saw coming, and it’s certainly not something anyone who knows about his arm would predict. Now it’s a new season with new possibilities, and anything could happen. On-field reporter Emma Swan will be there to cover it all even if she is not his biggest fan right now.

Asking her out live on-air will do that.

Rating: Mature

a/n: Everyone take a moment to check out the INCREDIBLE drawing that @carpedzem did that was inspired by this story. It can be found | Here | and deserves all of the likes and reblogs for bringing the Killian in this story to life!

Have a good weekend! ❤️

Found on AO3: Beginning | Current

Tumblr: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 |15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 |

Tag list: @eala-captian @galaxyzxstark @xellewoods @mariakov81 @ultraluckycatnd @royalswan @shey-starsfury @superchocovian @sals86 @iam2307 @ashley-knightingale @karenfrommisthaven @scientificapricot @captswanis4vr @ultimiflos @jamif @idristardis @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @tiganasummertree @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @captainsjedi @teamhook @notoriouscs @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog@cs-forlife @andiirivera @jonirobinson64 @qualitycoffeethings @youraverageshipper

-/-

“You haven’t updated your Instagram account in weeks.”

Ariel says this as they sit in the hotel restaurant with their plates full of salad, grilled chicken, and rice. Killian’s been eating like shit lately, and as good as it feels in the moment, he can tell that it affects him and the way that he functions on a daily basis. So he’s been eating the same thing for every meal for the past week, but since they’re on the road where he doesn’t have constant access to a fridge and stove, he’s had to get a little creative in obtaining his food. Ariel is pretty much an expert at finding whatever it is that he wants when he wants it, and he cannot thank her enough for it.

Stabbing a piece of chicken, Killian lifts his fork to his mouth and takes a bite while he taps his passcode into his phone to see if Ariel’s statement is actually true. He really wouldn’t know, but it looks like he has several photos from the last few weeks on there.

“You can very clearly see all of these photos, A. Why are you so big on my social media presence lately?”

“These are all professional photos,” Ariel sighs, an emphasis on professional, and she pushes his phone back toward him. “You need more personal photos. You look like a baseball player.”

“I am a baseball player.”

She waves him away. “You know what I mean.”

Killian arches a brow and scoops up some of his rice. “I really don’t, love.”

Ariel rolls his eyes, and he settles a little further in his booth, his eyes glancing around to the people sitting around them in the restaurant. It’s not very crowded, just a few people here and there, but that’s par for the course considering it’s tentwo in the morningafternoon on a Wednesday. Not a lot of people are chilling in a hotel restaurant in Boston when there are approximately fifty-two other things they could be doing within a five-foot radius. And that’s only the tourists.

And he’s pretty sure that everyone in here can hear his conversation, is probably judging them for the particular subject of it, but he knows that no one cares.

He certainly doesn’t, but if A cares, he should for her.

“People like a little personality,” Ariel explains, ripping up a bit of her napkin. “I know we’ve talked about this before, Killian. You’ve got to show a little personality outside of baseball. I’m not saying put your diary on there, but post a picture with someone outside of baseball.” “Literally, everyone in my life is involved in baseball in some way.”

“Okay, true,” Ariel laughs. “It’s the same for me, so I get it. Still, though, think about it.”

Killian hums noncommittedly, pushing his rice around before looking up at Ariel and wondering why the hell she’s looking at him like she’s holding all of the secrets of the world in that mind of hers.

“Did you really ask to meet me because we needed to talk about my Instagram feed?”

“I mean, obviously not,” she huffs. “I had a few work things to talk about with you, but I’ve also missed you. I feel like it’s been so long since we all spent time together with you guys not in uniform. It’s got to have been months, and I miss it.”

His heart swells and breaks all at once while his head tilts to the side to look at Ariel, eyes glancing up and down over her as he studies her. “You okay, A?”

“I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Ariel.”

“Killian.”

“Ariel, I am here to talk if you’re upset about something, and, literally, say the word and I will get all of us together to do something. We’re here for five days before we’re back in New York for a week. I know we’re in the crazy part of the season where it feels like we can’t breathe, but I promise there’s time for us all to spend time together.”

Her eyes glance down at her food, and she swishes her water around in the glass before taking a long, slow sip that he knows is to take up time.

“I really am fine,” she promises. “I’m just a little stressed with it all, and I feel like I need some time with all of you guys and Belle and, um, Emma too. I’m trying to make contract negotiations for Eric, which has involved us talking about a lot of future stuff that I wasn’t quite ready to talk about yet.”

“Babies?”

“Ding, ding, ding,” she laughs, even if it’s kind of pathetic. “I mean, I want kids. I do. I want them with Eric especially.”

“Well, I’d be a little concerned if you didn’t want them with your husband.”

She flicks a piece of lettuce at him. “Shut up.”

“Never.”

“Why do I love you?”

“I literally have no idea,” Killian teases, reaching over the table to grab Ariel’s hand so that he can squeeze it to reassure her. “Go on, A. I’m listening.”

“I just – it’s hard, you know? Obviously, Eric and I are financially secure right now, but you can’t plan life when that’s exactly what we’re trying to do. Because what happens if Eric gets traded somewhere else? We have to uproot everything, and having kids will complicate that. And we have to have a plan for Eric after he retires. Like, I have a pretty nice job because of all of you, but he’s going to need to have something to do. It’s just…it’s a lot on my plate when I’m already balancing so much. I mean, haven’t you thought about all of that?”

Damn.

Like, damn.

No, he hasn’t thought of any of that. Not at all. Well, that’s a lie, but it’s a small lie, a white one really. When he was out after the accident, his future was always on his mind, but it was never any concrete thoughts. It was always depressing ones about him never being able to play again, about him having no discernable skills outside of a sport, and about him wondering if he was going to fall into women and bars once more simply because things weren’t going his way. It was never a concrete answer about what he’s legitimately going to do after baseball. Money isn’t really his concern as long as he handles it all correctly, but how will he spend his days? What will he be passionate about?

Is Emma going to be by his side through all of it?

Woah.

Okay.

That’s not at all where he thought his mind was headed, but his brain apparently had a much different roadmap than he thought. Killian loves Emma, undoubtedly, and he does want his future to involve her, but it’s like Ariel said…they can’t plan life.

And he doesn’t know what Emma’s plans are.

Realistically, too, Killian isn’t exactly sure what he wants out of life, and he already knows that he most likely won’t have a career as long as a lot of other guys in the league. They haven’t had broken arms and rotator cuff tears that still bother him like he has.

Fuck.

This is not how his morning is supposed to be going, and the way that his heart is hammering in his chest is far worse now than it will ever be when he gets out on the mound tonight.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Killian squeezes Ariel’s hand again. “It’s hard to think about, A, but you guys will figure it out. I don’t think life can ever really be planned. I sure as hell have planned none of mine, and if I didn’t have you, I think it’d be a much bigger mess.”

Ariel’s cheeks flame up to be the same color of her hair, but she smiles at him anyways. “You’re right. You would be a mess without me and everyone else. I am the glue that holds you together.”

“You and a couple other people which means you are all very weak glue to need that many people to hold me together or I’m just that resistant.”

“The second option.”

“You’re going to be okay, A. You and Eric are solid. And if or when you do have that baby, no matter what city you’re in, I’m going to be there to be that kid’s favorite person in the world.”

“Please,” Ariel laughs even as water fills her eyes, “no one could ever compare to me. I’m definitely going to be my kid’s favorite person.”

“Whatever you have to say to make yourself sleep at night.”

-/-

Killian gets booed when he steps out onto the field, and he can’t imagine a more fitting welcome in Boston since that is what usually happens.

But then it continues past that first moment.

And he very much deserves it for how he’s pitching, though that booing is probably from the Yankees fans and not Boston natives. His arm is stiff, a bit of pain running through it, and he’s too stubborn to ask to be relieved early or to admit that he’s in pain. He tries to convince himself that it’s all exaggerated, that he’s simply been in a negative headspace all day since eating lunch with Ariel and all of the heaviness that was in that conversation, but he knows that it’s not exaggerated. Killian knows that his shoulder is bothering him, his mind is bothering him, and nothing is going to get him out of this foul mood.

Especially not when Al pulls him after the third inning once again and yells at him to get his shit together. Will does too, and even if it’s in his joking tone, Killian doesn’t take it that way. He doesn’t take any of it as a joke.

Who the hell cares about what he’s going to do after baseball if he can’t even figure out what he’s doing right now?

And in all of his anger, in all of his frustration at himself and at his team, the thing he hates himself for the most is brushing off Emma when she asks for an interview. He mutters a no under his breath and keeps walking down the hallway back to the locker room so that he can take a shower and get a massage.

She’s the woman who he loves more than anything or anyone else, which he didn’t even realize until right now, and he just blew her off when she was simply trying to do her job.

He’s such an asshole.

They lose 3-17.

-/-

Elsa: Are you okay?

Elsa: Killian.

Elsa: I know you’ve checked your phone. The game ended three hours ago. Five hours ago for you.

Elsa: I’m going to start calling you and won’t stop if you don’t text me back within the next five minutes.

Killian sighs and rolls over on his hotel mattress, phone still in hand, and sends Elsa a text back because he really does not want to talk on the phone right now.

Killian: Yes, Els?

He expects the bubbles to pop up to tell him that she’s texting back, but they don’t. Instead her face pops up, a picture of she and the girls from Christmas last year, and he wonders if she was ever not going to call him. The answer is most definitely no since he’s been ignoring her – and everyone else – all evening. Eventually someone was going to call him out on his shit.

Sighing again, he hits answer and presses the speaker button as Elsa’s voice comes through the phone.

“Why are you ignoring everyone?”

“I’m talking to you.”

“Only because I just promised to harass you until you did. Seriously, Killian. Your brother and I have been calling you all afternoon, and you’ve ignored us. And when I texted Emma, she said that you were ignoring her too.”

“Bloody hell,” Killian grumbles aloud, sitting up in bed and moving his arm so that he’s not pressing down on it so as to agitate it more. “You texted Emma?”

“Um, yeah?” Elsa questions, the hesitation obvious in her voice. “She’s your girlfriend. She was at the game. I kind of figured she was with you, but apparently the two of you haven’t talked either. What the hell is wrong with you that you’re not even talking to Emma?”

Well, he’s an asshole for one. He’s also never told Emma about his shoulder injury and the full extent of the accident. He doesn’t want to. There’s no rhyme or reason to it, but he doesn’t want Emma to know about it. Not now. As irrational as he knows that it is, she might think less of him. And maybe just maybe, if he doesn’t tell more people, the problem will somehow go away.

This is all becoming more irrational by the second, but it’s fine. Everything is going to be fine. That was such a dark place in his life, one he doesn’t want to keep repeating and reliving even if Emma already knows parts of it, and he has no idea how he’d even talk to her right now since she’s very obviously, and rightfully so, pissed at him.

It’s all so easy to mess everything up in the blink of an eye.

“She’s likely pissed at me since I brushed her off for an interview. I didn’t even say hi or smile at her or find her afterwards. So, I didn’t text her, and she hasn’t texted me. I don’t know…she’s upset with me, right?”

“She’s concerned about you,” Elsa breathes out, and from the lack of noise around her, Killian imagines that she must have locked herself in the study so that no one bothers her. “Killian, Emma loves you. Anyone with eyes can see that, and you guys are a team. Granted, you’re a brand new team, but you’re a team. You have to work together and share stuff like this.”

“I know that, Els.”

“Then why isn’t she with you right now?”

“Because my shoulder feels like shit today, and she doesn’t know anything about the accident besides the broken bone.”

Silence fills the air around him after he says the words, and it’s exacerbated by the fact that Elsa isn’t saying anything on the other line. The only sounds are the sounds of his television playing some kind of celebrity gossip show. How out of touch is he if he doesn’t even know the name of the show?

Why would it even matter to him?

“Killian,” Elsa whispers, and he’s so damn tired of hearing people say his name in sympathy today, “you haven’t told her?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I haven’t told anyone else, Els. Eight people on this earth know about it, and I don’t even know how I would tell her. I don’t want her to look at me out of pity. I don’t…my life has had some pretty shitty periods, and that was one of them. Emma didn’t honestly know me then. She didn’t know how fucked up that I was, and even if I’ve told her about Milah and all of the women after Milah and – I’ve told her a lot, and at some point, she’s going to flip out on how messed up I am.”

“First of all,” she starts, not even allowing him to take a breath or truly think about everything that he just said, “you are not messed up. You, even with all of your privileges now, have had some really hard times in your life. You lost your mom at a really young age and had a pretty shitty dad who took advantage of you and your talents. And then you had a really big love kind of blow up in your face, as well as everything that came after that, and just as you were getting over that, the accident happened.”

“It’s even more depressing if you say it all in a list like that.”

“But,” Elsa continues, “you got through all of that. Are you still struggling with it? Absolutely. But it hasn’t kept you from continuing to live your dream even though things are frustrating. It hasn’t kept you from finding a really great girl in Emma. You’re okay, you know that? And we all love you so much that I don’t think I can even express it with words.”

Killian smiles to himself and twists in his bed, a bit of water coating his eyes, but he blinks the tears away and runs his hands through his hair, taking a deep breath. “I love you guys too.”

“Good. Now text your girlfriend and think about telling her some of this stuff that you’re carrying around on your shoulders.”

“Is that supposed to be a joke?”

“A little.”

“You have no shame.”

“I know. Call me tomorrow, okay?”

“Will do.”

The line goes silent, for real this time, and Killian slams his eyes shut simply so he can have a moment to breathe. Today has been a lot for him, and he knows that Elsa is right about everything. He does. But he’s not quite ready to be that open with Emma. He will be. He does actually want her to know about everything even if he thinks it’ll make her run for the hills, but he’s not ready. And he tells himself that it’s fine. Emma has her own hang-ups, her own past, and not everything has to be shared right away.

They have time.

And his arm may very well start feeling better soon, and his freak out will all be for naught.

Killian: Can I come up to your room?

Emma: Ruby and Graham are in here.

Killian: I don’t care if you don’t.

Emma: 514.

Rolling off the bed, Killian bends down to his suitcase to grab a shirt, not caring which one, and tugs it down on over his head and shoulders before grabbing his phone and wallet to walk up to Emma’s room. He’s not even wearing any shoes, just socks, but he doesn’t notice this until he’s looking around the hallway to make sure no one is around and then quietly knocking on the door.

Graham opens it, a smile on his face, and for some reason it makes Killian think that maybe Emma isn’t as pissed at him as his mind has convinced himself that she is.

“Hey, come on in,” Graham says, opening the door a little wider and letting Killian inside. “I’m sorry about the game.”

“I’m sorry that you used vacation days to see us all play like shit.”

“Yeah, well,” Graham laughs, “at least I’m not at work.”

“This is true.”

Killian takes another step in the room and sees Emma sitting on her bed dressed in a pair of shorts and his old Vandy sweatshirt. He’s going to have to get something else because she’s going to wear that thing until it is nothing but threads. Ruby is sitting next to her, laptops on both of their laps, and he imagines that they’re simply working. Or, at least, he hopes.

“Hey,” Killian greets, crossing his arms over his chest.

Emma looks up at him, a slight smile on her face, and his chest practically heaves. They’re not even in a fight. Why does he feel like they are?

“Hey,” she says. “I’ve got to finish up this article, okay? And I have a little bit of prep work to do for tomorrow.”

“Yeah, Swan, that’s fine.”

“It’s only going to take her thirty minutes,” Ruby starts, slamming her laptop shut, “and then she’s going to yell at you for how pissed she is at you for completely ignoring her today.”

“Hey,” Emma gasps, reaching her hand back to slap Ruby, “you weren’t supposed to say anything.”

“Well, I knew you weren’t going to.”

“I was.”

“You’re a liar.”

“I was going to talk to him.”

“No, no you weren’t. You two are ridiculous. It’s not that hard to talk to each other.”

“Sweetheart,” Graham sighs, tilting his head to the side, “why don’t you let them deal with their issues on their own? I think they can handle it.”

“You know Emma almost as well as I do, so you know that’s not true.”

“Oh my God,” Emma groans, sinking down further on the bed, “this is why I should have left the two of you in New York.”

“Technically,” Ruby laughs, “David sent me because this is a big game, and he didn’t want you to produce on your own.”

“Yeah, well, I should have convinced him to let you stay, and then we definitely could have left Graham behind.”

“Hey,” Graham scoffs, and Kilian can’t help but laugh. He’s only spent a little bit of time with the three of them all together, but they obviously get along great. Ruby is definitely an acquired taste, but Graham kind of evens things out. “I am on vacation. I don’t need to be berated.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Emma huffs, rubbing the palms of her heels under her eyes. “I’m just a little stressed.”

“Do you want me to go get you a cup of coffee, love?”

Emma glances over to him and shakes her head from side to side. “No. I’ve had enough caffeine today. Thank you, though.”

Silence falls between all of them, only the hum of the air-conditioning remaining, but Killian’s gaze stays on Emma even when she goes back to typing on her laptop.

“Ruby, let’s go out to dinner,” Graham suggests, walking over to the bed and beginning to pack up her stuff. “We’ll all have to do something together tomorrow night, yeah?”

“That sounds great, Graham,” Emma promises. “There’s a seafood place down by the harbor that I want to go to.”

Killian watches as Ruby and Graham collect their things and leave, saying their goodbyes to both he and Emma, and it’s not awkward until the hotel door slams shut behind them and he’s left with just Emma.

When was the last time he felt awkward around Emma?

Probably during his interview back in March. That was a lifetime ago.

“I had a shitty day,” Killian blurts out, walking over to the desk that’s next to Emma’s bed and sitting down on the edge of it so that he’s not talking to her from across the room. “That’s not an excuse. God, love,” he huffs, running his hands through his hair, “I know that’s not an excuse, but it’s mine. I’m sorry that I brushed you off, that I barely acknowledged you at the stadium, and that I didn’t text you while I’m here.”

Emma’s nails clack against the keyboard, and he swears every letter is being burned into his skin for how anxious he feels until she’s closing her laptop and placing it next to her on the bed, pulling her legs up to her chest and wrapping her arms around her knees.

“Why have you had a shitty day? Just because you played poorly? Because I’ve seen you play poorly before, and it’s never resulted in you ignoring me while I’m trying to do my job. I get that reporters suck and that you have to talk to a million of them. And I don’t expect special treatment because I’m your girlfriend, but you can’t just brush me off like that and then basically be a ghost for hours after that. I mean, you weren’t even answering your family’s calls, Killian.”

How is he a functioning human being? How? How does he even have people who love him?

Killian’s got answers to all of her questions, to every single one, but he doesn’t know how to say them without talking about his arm and that’s…that’s not going to happen today when he needs more time to accept it all himself.

Emma will understand. When the time comes, she will.

“I’m an asshole, Swan. I am. I know you probably think I’m great with expressing my emotions because I usually am with you, but sometimes I still struggle with it. I had a day where nothing seemed to go right, and instead of seeking out the help of people who care about me, I isolated myself. It’s not right. I know it’s not, but it’s a pattern that I fall back into time and time again.”

Green eyes glance over him, studying him, and he feels her everywhere, like she’s able to peer deep into his soul and see all of the things he’s hiding from her.

Or the one thing.

It’s just one thing

And it can’t be that big of a deal. It’s not. He’ll tell her. Later. Tonight is not the right time.

“You’re not an asshole,” Emma sighs, flattening her lips. “I know I call you an ass all of the time, but I don’t mean it. I just – you had a bad day. I get that. I have bad days all the time, but, and at least I think I’m right about this even though Neal and Walsh never did this with me, when you have a shitty day, you’re supposed to share it with me, come to me, lean on me. If you need time to yourself, fine. Take it. That’s probably a good thing, but I don’t want to do this if every time things don’t go your way I��m pushed away.”

“Did you rehearse that?”

“Does it sound like it?”

“A little bit,” Killian chuckles as he scratches behind his ear. “If only because everything you just told me not to do is everything that I know you have a history of doing.”

“Yeah, well, I’m a hypocrite.” Emma lets her legs fall against the mattress before standing up and stepping into his space so that she’s standing between his thighs with her hands on his shoulders, nails curling into his t-shirt. “Obviously, we both have our own issues, but let’s try to be better, yeah? And if all else fails when it comes to talking, I’m a really good person to eat junk food with and possibly get a little drunk even if those are terrible coping mechanisms.”

He huffs, his hands finding her hips so that he can tug her closer. “I’m on a diet, actually.”

Emma’s nose scrunches up in that way that he loves before she’s dipping her head down and softly, thoroughly moving her lips over his in the way that he’s been craving all day. He hasn’t seen her today, only those few seconds after he got pulled out of the game, and he had no idea just how much he missed being able to feel her against him, to be able to smell the scent of her shampoo, until right at this moment.

“I know,” she says when they pull back from each other even if he doesn’t let his grip on her hips go. “We’ve been eating like crap lately.”

“I’m trying to rectify that. I know you are too.”

“Actually, Ruby and I signed up for another Pilates class at home, so I’ve been working my ass off to still eat my onion rings. Literally.”

“Oh, don’t do that.” Killian moves his hand back to squeeze her ass, reveling in the way that Emma rolls her eyes. “I like this ass too much.”

“Well, consider it some kind of punishment for being a broody ass today if my butt happens to get smaller.” She smiles at him before kissing his forehead in a move so gentle that he wonders how in the world this woman has so many wonderful facets. “Now, do me a favor and find something to watch while I finish up my assignment, okay? I have to talk about everything you guys did wrong today.”

“Just punch me in the gut why don’t you.”

“I try. C’mon, twenty-nine. I think we both deserve a relaxing night.”

“Yeah, Swan, me too.”

They don’t get drunk and eat junk food, but once Emma finishes her work a little under twenty minutes later, she turns her laptop off as well as turning off the hotel room lights, and crawls under the covers with him so that her feet are tucked into his calves. Killian loves that she does that, that she feels comfortable doing that, and it brings him comfort even if her feet are far too cold. Seriously, it’s like she sticks them in the freezer before she gets in bed.

As if that would be possible.

Emma absentmindedly playing with his chain and his mother’s ring is something he’s also grown used to recently, something that brings him peace, and Killian continues to trace words of affection into the skin of her back as the night goes on. They don’t talk much, just a few exchanges of words about Emma’s day, her plans and schedule for tomorrow, and she drags just that little bit more information out of him. It’s still not everything, was never going to be everything, but it’s a start.

And his shoulder doesn’t bother him nearly as badly when Emma is sitting beneath it with her head on his chest laughing at his truly terrible Arnold Schwarzenegger impression. He’s usually much better with accents, but this one is apparently too much for Emma to handle.

Weirdly, though, or maybe not so much, all of his concerns that sparked after his conversation with Ariel this afternoon fade away with each passing second. Killian’s got no clue what’s going to happen or if things are going to work out, but at the end of the day, all he wants is for Emma to laugh with him and kiss his collarbone before she falls asleep.

#catch me if you can #cs fic #cs ff #captain swan fic #captain swan

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killianmesmalls · 6 years

Text

A Tether to the World, Ch. 2

I have never been so lost in a pairing as I have been the last two days with KnightRook. I was supposed to be editing something else. Send help. Or don’t. Please don’t.

Chapter: 2/?

Warnings: Very mild, brief mention of past child abuse.

Synopsis: Alice is restless and Hook is at a loss. How can he give his daughter an adventure when she’s trapped?

Gods above, she was antsy. He couldn’t blame her. Spending weeks, even months at a time at sea had shown him his fair share of cabin fever. However, the Jolly Roger was a fair bit larger than this tower; even as a cabin boy he had more room to move around than his poor, darling six-year-old daughter did.

So, he couldn’t really blame her for her fidgety, irritable behavior. Usually he was able to curtail it with a game of some sort or an hour or so of pretend that would leave their living space in ruins. But, she was getting bigger, more aware that Papa could leave but Alice had to sit at home by her lonesome, likely with some chore or homeschooling assignment he had given her. She was bored and lonely, simple as that.

Even if he had caved to giving her a rabbit… and would likely cave again whatever other pet her heart desired because heaven help his conscience if he said no. Today even the white lop couldn’t distract his Alice, who kicked at her makeshift school desk in frustration.

“I don’t want to do this anymore!” she snapped.

The captain in him struggled to demand order and obedience, but the father in him crumbled at what he knew was an unavoidable bout of well-deserved frustration. The sun was out in the first warm day of spring, sending the scents of dewy grass and lavender all the way up through their tower window. He had hoped having her draw star maps of various worlds would both educate and entertain her, but anything short of tearing down the damn tower was sending her spinning toward a tantrum.

“Alice,” he said, an edge of authority in his tone before it softened, “I understand that you’re—”

“No you don’t!” yelled Alice. “You get to do whatever you please! You don’t understand at all!”

“Alice Jones,” he started, his captain’s voice inching in enough to give her pause. They both knew it was nothing more than a sign he, too, was nearing his last nerve. After the way he was raised, after what he had endured and the scars he had suffered as a child sold into servitude, there were certain lines he would never cross. Not with his Alice. At worst his captain tone with his bright child meant an evening without sweets or only one bedtime story. Luckily it rarely came to that—the thought of her father ever being disappointed in her sent a sharp pain through Alice’s heart any time she entertained it.

Well, most times. This may have been heading toward a Jones family first. Before she could descend further into madness, Killian stepped toward her, put his hands on her shoulders, and kissed the top of her head. “I’m going to ask you to do something, and I am going to ask for you to trust me.”

Her shoulders slumped a little in his hands and she craned her neck to look back at him. “Do what, Papa?”

“I want you to rest for a few hours. Try to sleep. I know you haven’t been sleeping well the last few days. If you can’t sleep, pick a book and read as much as you can, but I’d really like for you to do all you can to get a few moments of rest. I am going to get a few things and I’ll be back as soon as I can. If all goes well, and if you do this for me, then we’ll have quite an evening ahead of us. I promise you.”

He felt her tense for but a moment, preparing to argue, then the fight left as quick as it rose through her. She slumped the rest of the way and gave a short nod. “Yes, Papa.”

“That’s my girl,” he praised, kissing her soft, blond curls again before grabbing his leather duster. “And please remember to clean up after Mary Ann. I don’t want to step on more rabbit leavings when I come home.”

She giggled mischievously, the sound sending his heart fluttering. “Yes, Papa.”

“Oh, and one more thing—where would you like to go?”

Alice’s eyebrows knit together. “Go?”

“Yes, love. Tell me a world and I will bring it to you.”

A wide, almost rabbit-like smile pulled at the corners of her mouth. “Can we go to Agrabah? Somewhere far away.”

Killian gave her a firm nod, his eyebrow rising as his own signature smirk flashed. “Agrabah it is. Now, off to rest. And don’t come back out until I call for you. I need to work some magic first.”

The climb down was always the hardest. Not simply because it was more difficult to get the grip he needed, but the thought of leaving his daughter always sent a boulder rolling in his stomach. The nearest village was nearly an hour’s walk away, and each step felt like it took him an eternity away from her. Thankfully, in the years since he had departed from his beloved Jolly Roger, his loyal first mate (Captain, now, he reminded himself) continued to send Hook what Smee felt was his rightful sum of gold after each adventure the crew went on without him. Though his heart ached for the spray of the ocean and the thrill of other worlds, the years had given Hook a deeper appreciation for the old rat’s steadfast friendship.

Killian had most recently been able to acquire a horse and pay for it to be kept in the nearby village stables. It was only fair for the beast to have more companionship than he could offer from the foot of their tower, and it was only fair to Alice to not have the neighing taunt her as another reminder of something she couldn’t see or touch.

The stables were only a fifteen-minute trek down a grassy path. He had been careful over the years to keep it from wearing too much, to prevent others from knowing about their hidden tower. He suspected the kind stable owner knew it somewhat, but she paid him no mind so long as he paid her in gold. From the stables, it was a fast gallop to get where he needed, and his mind ran with what he could possibly get to soothe his daughter’s fitful, adventurous soul. Exotic spices, expensive in a foreign realm but well worth it for his girl, were the first items that came to mind. After that, he was lost.

That is, until the third tent in the street market came into view. “Star Lamps and Fairy Lights” the sign advertised. Curiosity piqued, he stepped inside and marveled at an array of various-sized crystal balls, all colored a velvety blackish blue with small, clear speckles dotting each one. He approached one, taking in the label beneath it.

“Neverland,” it said. He raised the ball closer, immediately recognizing the speckles formed familiar shapes, ones he had memorized a thousand times over from his years trapped with the demon, Pan. His eyes scanned the other crystal pieces, catching miniaturized constellations he had navigated under for centuries.

“Would you like to see how it works?” a voice croaked behind him. Killian turned to see a withered man whose wild eyebrows adorned sparkling blue eyes. In his surprise, he simply nodded and watched as the man closed the tent cover, blocking all signs of the spring afternoon. The only light left was a small fire in a strange brass lantern. The elderly man shuffled toward the device, placing the ball labeled “Neverland” atop its setting. Instantly, the tent filled with a night sky Killain was so acquainted with it took his breath away.

Sure, the images were a little distorted around the corners of the tent, but gods it was as close as he could ever imagine getting without a magic bean. “It’s brilliant,” he breathed out. “How many realms do you have?”

“Dozens. Is there one in particular you’re looking for?”

“Agrabah, if you have it. I’ll take as many as I can carry, though.”

An exuberant fire lit in Killian’s heart as he made his way out of the market. His bag was heavier than he anticipated, now packed full of foreign foodstuffs, incense, four of some silly ‘calming’ water mechanism he hoped would do the trick, and as many starry crystals as he could fit with their accompanying lantern. Climbing back up that tower would be a magnificent challenge, but it would be well worth it.

It was when he spotted the small wagon wheel cast aside in the road that he knew it would be more than one climb, but he’d climb as much as he needed to bring his daughter a minute of happiness. A minute of pretend. A minute of freedom. His every muscle burned by the time he and all his loot had made it back inside their home, the tell-tale signs of sunset creating an orange glow over the quiet tower.

True to her word, Alice had kept to her room. Killian chanced a peek in on her and was relieved to see her spread like a starfish over her bed, covers half twisted and a book open at her side. Every minute he thought he couldn’t love her more was a minute he was proven wrong.

Pulling himself away from the sight, he got to work. Sheets and rope first, his years of tying masts doing him a wealth of good as he worked in as much quiet as he could manage. He thanked the gods Alice, when she could sleep, slept like the dead. Moving furniture along the hardwood floor wasn’t the most silent of tasks, but he caught her stir only once before she settled.

Next, he cleaned the wagon wheel and pierced a hole dead center of their wooden counter, fastening it to as close to a steering mechanism as he could manage with such limited tools. It wasn’t perfect, but he hoped his six-year-old would get the gist. From his mock-helm, he looked out over the living room area, now converted into a facsimile of the Jolly Roger. At least, as close to it as he could hope to make without real magic at his disposal. Pulling out the silly water toys that had been advertised for “tranquility” and to “reduce stress”—a lost idea to him since he acquired the constant worry of parenthood—he filled them with water and spaced them evenly around the fake ship, activating their mechanics so a mild sloshing sound could be heard around him. It was by no means the sea, but it could work in a pinch.

He moved to light the incense, the scent of sea-salt and seaweed lifting into the air after the initial burnt sulfur died away. Finally, he set himself up in the kitchen, going to work on the few recipes he could remember from his limited times in Agrabah. The mostly-desert world wasn’t one he had grown too accustomed to, but he would bloody well do everything he could to recreate the sense of its coastline now.

Go figure, it was the smell of food that stirred his Alice awake. He could imagine Liam teasing that she was just like him.

“Papa?” she called, her voice light and a little croaky from sleep. “Can I come out now?”

Rushing to set up the lantern, he placed Agrabah’s constellations across the ceiling of their tower, careful to adjust it so the stars were in their rightful places for the time of year. “You can come out, love,” he finally called back.

At the first sight of their living room area, Alice’s eyes widened, her gaze moving through every inch of what her father had created. He chose then to sweep over to her, letting food simmer over a low flame. “Would you like to step aboard, m’lady?”

“W-where are we?” she asked.

“Why, the Jolly Roger, of course.”

She moved with him in a daze toward the “helm” of the ship, senses assaulted with the smells of a mixture of sea air, cooking dishes from the bazaar, the sound of waves lopping around them, and the night sky glittering above.

“Oh, Papa…” she started, her eyes welling with more emotions than she could grasp. “It’s so… I…”

He knelt down beside her, wrapping his arms around her middle in a tight hug from behind, his scruffy cheek resting against hers. “Darling, I can’t imagine how you must feel each day being trapped in here. But I swear on my life, I will do whatever it takes to break this curse. And, until I do, I will do everything in my power to bring the realms to you.”

He held her for a long stretch, the pair letting the mimicked world around them work its magic, letting little Alice forget just a little that she was a prisoner. For now, even just a little while, she was a free sailor in a new world with her papa, the best captain in all the realms, at her side.

As if reading her mind, he guided her hands to the wagon wheel. “Now, would you like to show me what you know already? Let’s test out that sea in your blood, eh?”

She looked up, chewing her lips as she tried to get her bearings with the constellations dancing above her head. She named a few she recognized from the maps he had given her to study, and together they sailed this new world. His hands rested on her sides, mimicking the rocking of the ship to help give her, her sea legs for when they did finally leave this wretched tower.

If she closed her eyes for long enough, if she let him work what magic he had, she could almost feel like they were there.

#knightrook #alice jones #killian jones #wish hook #ouat spoilers

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cutieodonoghue · 7 years

Photo

i'm missing you like crazy

summary: based on this prompt: “Established long distance relationship, one of them surprises the other by showing up right before midnight [on New Years Eve].” with a side helping of vloggers au! (a mixture of angst and fluff beyond this point)

word count: ~3600

an: happy first day of au week! I probably won’t post very much this week due to juggling way too many mcs, but I hope you enjoy this humble offering that I sort of threw together last night. :)

Emma Swan sits in her favorite booth wearing her favorite slightly oversized sweater with her favorite drink at her favorite diner, across from one of her closest friends, Mary Margaret Nolan.

Mary Margaret has a sweet smile on her lips as she chats about the goings-on in her life, including but not limited to the newly acquired husband Emma had thought Mary Margaret would stop talking about post-wedding.

Turns out, love is inescapable. So is the impending feeling of sadness and guilt over her own love life.

“So is Killian coming back for New Years at least? I know he missed Christmas.”

Emma takes a sip of her hot chocolate and avoids looking at Mary Margaret. “Uh… no, actually. He has to stay in London for a few more weeks. Making a movie is kind of hard, it turns out.”

Mary Margaret frowns deeply. “Oh. Emma, I didn’t-”

“It’s okay,” Emma forces a smile. She glances down at the table at her camera. “We knew it was going to be hard.” She sucks in a breath as she lifts her camera. “You want to be in the vlog today?”

Mary Margaret nods, ever the passionately helpful friend. “Sure. I’d love that.”

Emma fidgets with the camera until she has it recording. She holds it out to Mary Margaret. “Just hold this for the intro?”

“Oh, yes. Of course.”

Emma clears her throat and smiles wide at the camera’s lens. “Hey, Ducklings! Look what I did today.”

Mary Margaret’s smiling behind the camera, and it encourages Emma’s grin to stay for a few seconds before she giggles and Mary Margaret does too.

Usually, she does these introductions on her own- at her apartment or on the sidewalk as she goes for a morning walk with her puppy.

She likes to keep things personal, but not too personal. It’s her one rule about doing this thing. It’s probably why she hasn’t come clean to her audience about Killian just yet, no matter how obvious she is to some degree.

She has a modest following, having started as a little self-defense channel that somehow grew into her giving no-nonsense advice and vlogging during her off-days.

Somehow, Killian found her channel and gave her a shout out in one of his videos. It’s what started their friendly banter on Twitter, that somehow grew into her giving him her number, which grew into them needing to meet in person at Vidcon six months ago.

They’ve been together since.

He’d recently decided to move to New York, so it worked for their blossoming relationship. They made videos together, one even amassing nearly six million views, and discovered a fan base had risen from nowhere claiming they knew they’d be a couple, even if they still haven’t said anything official about their relationship.

It was wonderful and good and she never felt more at home than when she was with him. Until he got the insane opportunity to go work on a movie in London with his older brother Liam.

He’d asked her to come with him, of course he did, but she had to stay because of her day job. Even though he’s sunk his teeth and living into putting his life online, Emma hasn’t been brave enough just yet.

So, it’s been three months of long distance, and three months of daily vlogging because she misses him. Three months wondering if they’re incredibly stupid thinking this will even work.

“So Mary Margaret and I are having hot chocolate,” Emma says. She holds the camera in front of her face and turns it to look at her friend.

Mary Margaret smiles and waves.

“And gossiping about Killian and his movie.” Emma turns the lens to look at herself. “It’s been so long since we’ve seen you! I hope you at least bring me a souvenir when you come back.”

Mary Margaret laughs. “I’m sure he will.”

“Who knows if he even watches my vlogs. Sometimes I think he pretends to.” Emma shrugs at the lens in an attempt at humor.

Mary Margaret laughs again.

“Anyway, we’re having hot chocolate and after this, we’re going to pick up some party supplies because New Years is in three days.”

“Balloons!” Mary Margaret sings excitedly. “Lots and lots of balloons!”

///

Emma sits on her bed, the cool glow of her laptop in front of her a contrast to the warm lamp on her nightstand. She’s editing today’s vlog and at the same time listening to her roommate Ruby, who lays down on the foot of her bed as she does most nights.

Meanwhile, her puppy lies curled up at her side, enjoying being in her company regardless of the fact that she’s not giving her any attention.

“Anyway. That’s my daily drama with Granny. How’s your life?” Ruby asks. She’s playing with one of Emma’s throw pillows, tossing it in the air above her face and catching it again.

Emma sighs. She looks up from her laptop and frowns. “I miss Killian.”

Ruby stops what she’s doing and stares quietly at the ceiling as Emma scrubs over the timeline so she can make a cut.

“Emma, you should just fly out to London and surprise him.”

Emma looks up from her laptop and gives Ruby a look. “How would that be a good idea?”

“Uh…” Ruby pulls herself up so she’s sitting and then turns toward Emma, folding her legs in the process. “Let me think… right. He vlogged about you for a solid three minutes today. Publicly confessed his love for you. Clearly, he misses you too.”

“What?” Emma’s heart skips a beat and she feels a blush crawl into her cheeks as she clicks into her browser so she can check his video of the day.

He’s sitting in his hotel room when it opens, looking like he’d gotten exactly two hours of sleep, and he scrubs a hand over his face and into his hair so he can jut it outwards with his fingers like he does as a force of habit when he’s looking for the words to say.

“Good morning.” He smiles wide. Her heart flutters and she watches him sit up more. “It is Tuesday,” He sighs heavily. “And I miss Emma Swan.”

Her heart aches at his words.

It cuts to his intro, a brief title card with rock music, and then back to him.

“I hope you’ll forgive me for using this medium to communicate when I could very well just call you up right now, Swan, but I need a video for the channel and you probably need your rest.”

Emma laughs softly to herself and draws her knee up against her chest. She rests her cheek against her leg.

“So things have been going very well with the movie,” he tells the camera. “Um…” He glances over at his room, contemplating his next words. “Yeah. Just very good. I’m proud of it. I think you’ll all love it. Not just Emma.”

He smiles and stares at the camera lens, as if he can see her. “I just miss home. I miss you, Swan. I miss the puppy.”

She rolls her eyes at the glint of pride in his eyes. This is the first time either of them have been public about their relationship in any capacity. He presses his tongue between his lips for a second.

“I feel awful that I’ve been over here for so long.” Killian says with a glance away from the lens.

He pauses and she can tell his heart hurts. He seems to fight for emotional control for a second and forces a slight smile that falls away before he puts his hand over his eyes.

“Apologies. I just… it’s hard, if I’m honest. Making this movie means so much to me, but it’s not easy. It’s demanding. It’s stressful. And I just wish I could be in two places at once.”

Emma swallows at the lump forming in her throat. Tears burn beneath the surface and she sucks in a heavy breath.

“I should be done very soon,” he tells the camera, and she knows he’s talking straight to her. “And the moment I am, rest assured I’ll be much happier and less… like this.” He laughs in spite of himself. “Um… Emma, I hope you had a good day today. I miss you more than words can say.”

Emma nods as if he can see her. She’s keenly aware of Ruby still sitting at the edge of her bed, so she pauses the video, resolving to watch the rest later, and looks up at her.

“Hey,” Ruby says softly. “You okay?”

Emma shakes her head. She bites her tongue for a few seconds. “Help me look for flights?”

A grin spreads on her roommate’s face. “Hell yeah.”

///

Killian: Just so you know I do watch your vlogs every day. (winking face with stuck-out tongue)

Emma: I knew it! (red heart)

///

He misses her something sore.

He spends each day counting down the minutes until he can get a minute to himself and watch her vlogs, followed by at the very least a conversation over text before he falls asleep.

Thankfully, the time difference isn’t dreadful for them. When he’s getting ready for bed, she’s usually still enjoying the afternoon. Though, in the mornings he sometimes wishes he could text her about his dreams but he worries he’ll wake her.

Soon, he’s promised himself. Soon he’ll go home to her and never leave her side again. Maybe he’ll persuade her to quit that job of hers and travel the world with him instead.

It’s getting ahead of things, he knows. She’s been very good at letting him in and letting their relationship take its natural course. He knows it doesn’t come naturally to her- love- so getting to call her his is enough for now.

Killian skims through his social media accounts. He reads the comments on his last two videos, the vlog about Emma and the one he’d posted today about nothing in particular, and his heart squeezes tight because most of them seem to assume that he and Emma are dating, or at the very least need to.

Twitter is wrought with shippers, so he’s not surprised in the least to find all of the giddy mentions or pictures of he and Emma from his and her Instagrams.

Miles and miles and miles apart and he still finds that he loves her more and more with every passing day.

Killian checks the time before he calls Emma on Facetime. It rings a few times, as always, but she answers.

She’s sitting in her bedroom, on her bed with the puppy at her side. She leans her head against her shoulder and smiles at him softly as she scratches Buttercup’s furry side.

“Hey,”

Killian feels at least a thousand times better, getting to see her like this. He smiles in kind. “Hey, Swan.”

Emma shifts. She pulls their puppy in front of her so he can see. “Say hi to daddy, Buttercup.”

Buttercup sniffs at her camera and they both laugh. Emma pulls the pup away and settles her down again.

“Gods, I miss you!” Killian groans. “What have you been up to? How’s Mary Margaret and the party plans?”

Emma takes a soft breath. “Well, Ruby and I just received a package that was supposed to be delivered to Creepy Next Door Guy.”

Killian grimaces. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Emma shivers. She rubs Buttercup’s side. “And Mary Margaret made us go over for dinner last night, so that was exciting. We’re still getting through Christmas leftovers.”

He can’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy. He’d desperately wanted to be there. He actually had purchased a ticket, but then things on his end changed and he wouldn’t be able to make the flight.

“Well, that sounds like fun.”

Emma shrugs. “It was alright.” She stares at him and he can see the cogs moving behind her eyes. “I watched your video about me.”

His heart skips a beat. “Oh?”

Emma nods. A small smile itches at the corners of her lips. “I miss you too. A lot.” She shakes her head. “I wish we didn’t have to do this. I’m so… it’s hard.”

“I know.” Killian sighs. He adjusts his computer slightly where it sits on his knees and shifts so he lies down with his laptop on his belly. “Sorry for the angle, love. Hold on.”

Emma laughs a little. He moves his computer to the spot on his bed beside him and turns to his side.

“It’s really late there,” she says. “You sure you want to be talking right now? Don’t you have to do stuff in the morning?”

Killian scoffs. “I don’t care. I want to see you.”

Emma falls quiet. “Yeah.”

He thinks he could just watch her sit there quietly all night. It would be enough, and at the same time not enough at all.

“Do you have New Year’s off?”

“Aye,” Killian sighs. “Can’t manage a flight though. I promise I’ve tried.”

“I know.” Emma replies sadly. “I just… I miss you.”

“I miss you too.” Killian murmurs. He examines her face as best he can through webcam resolution. “I desperately wish I could give you a proper New Year’s kiss.”

His girlfriend’s eyes fall closed and she smiles to herself as she glances away from him and at Buttercup instead. She lifts the puppy close and cuddles her.

“It’s alright. Buttercup can give me a kiss.”

Killian laughs. He drags a hand over his face and says tiredly, “Way to ruin a romantic moment, Swan.”

Emma rolls her eyes before straightening out again. She sets the dog down on her bed again and leans in toward her computer. “What’s a proper New Year’s kiss like?”

Killian’s eyebrows raise. He smirks. “Well, for starters, it would require us being in the same room.”

Emma hums. “Okay.”

“On New Year’s Eve,” he adds. “And… as the clock counted down from ten, we would find each other and I would wrap my arm around you.”

She smiles. “And I would put my arms around your neck so I could run my fingers through your hair.”

Killian grins warmly. “And we’d stare into one another’s eyes.”

He stares at Emma for a moment, finding her captured by the tale. His tongue darts out and he licks his lips as his gaze shifts from her eyes to her lips.

His voice lowers, “And the moment the clock hit midnight, I would lift you into my arms and hold you impossibly close as I kissed you until we couldn’t breathe anymore.”

Emma’s eyes fall closed for a moment. Her eyes meet his and her lips part as if she has something to say. She holds onto it for a moment and seems to make a mental retreat. “Well. It’s too bad I’m in New York and you’re in London, isn’t it?”

Killian can see she’s breaking. So is he.

“Aye,” he breathes. “I can’t say I prefer it this way.”

“Me either.”

///

Killian smiles wide at the camera he holds out in front of him. He’s standing on his balcony watching the New Year’s Eve traffic.

“It’s under half an hour until midnight. Look at all of these people.” Killian turns the camera to look out at what he sees. “Bloody chaos!”

He turns the camera inside his little hotel apartment, where members of his crew are hanging out. Liam’s laughing with the main actor of the film and it’s a lively affair. Everyone seems to be having a good time.

Secretly, or maybe not-so-secretly, he wishes he could be in America right now. With Emma.

Even a quiet night in her apartment while they watch the ball drop on television seems more exciting than staying up another two or three hours with these people in his hotel room.

On a sigh, he bites on his lip and shuts the camera off. He’ll probably go film with Liam a little later, but for now, he just wants to stand in the cold night without a jacket on and just feel the chill in his bones.

He grabs his phone from his pocket and presses his thumb over Emma’s name in his contacts to call her. It’s only seven or so where she is, so he figures the party should only just be starting with Mary Margaret and David.

It takes a few rings, but she answers.

“Hey!” she says brightly. “I was just thinking about you.”

Killian can’t help but smile. “Aye. Me too. What are you up to?”

“I… am…” Emma pauses and he can hear her grunt. “Sorry. I was just helping Mary Margaret with something. The party will be starting any second.”

He hums warmly. “Sounds like fun.”

Emma hums skeptically. “Well, I guess we’ll see.”

He can hear her step out of the room- there’s a big change in environment. Instead of a slightly busy echo, he hears a vastly more distinct outdoors.

“Where are you?” he teases.

“Outside,” she laughs. “I need to get some air before the fun.”

Killian chuckles. He reaches up to scratch beneath his ear. “I wish I could be there. I really do. It’s just… wild here. We’re down to two weeks of major editing and then from there we can do virtual work and pop-ins every few weeks or so.”

Emma snorts. “Pop-ins, huh?”

Killian rolls his eyes. “You know what I mean. I promise it won’t take too much of me from you.”

“Uh huh. Oh, geez. I have to go. Mary Margaret is giving me a death glare.”

His heart sinks sadly. “Oh. Okay. I’ll… probably text you in a few minutes when I’m in the future.”

“Do not spoil what happens, Killian!” she teases.

Killian can’t help but laugh. “I won’t.”

“Good.” Emma says calmly. “Okay. I’ll call later when I’m free. Bye.”

“Bye.”

On a heavy sigh, Killian hangs up his phone and sticks it back into his pocket. He stares out at the world around him and then has a seat on the couch and fidgets with his camera instead of going in and reminding himself of why he wishes he could be home with his girlfriend.

///

The thing she hadn’t realized when booking her flight was just how crowded the city would be at this hour of the night.

Thankfully, she knows Killian’s hotel room number and it isn’t as awkward with nobody really looking at her as she books it across the lobby toward the elevators.

It’s three minutes to midnight and she needs to make it for that magical moment when this part of the world celebrates the new year.

She catches a glimpse of herself in a mirror as she’s waiting for the elevator to come down and grimaces. She looks like she’s been on a plane all day, which is exactly where she’s been.

The elevator dings.

Emma looks at it and shakes her head as she steps forward.

Killian won’t care. He’ll just be glad to see her again. Just like she’s going to be glad to see him again.

///

The party’s attention goes to the television, where the countdown reveals just a minute remains in this year.

Killian stands off to the side, silently appreciative of the couples that have formed an agreement to share the first kiss of the year. It being his first New Years with Emma, he’d thought he’d get this moment with her, but instead, he’ll have to wait a year. He supposes it could be worse.

He’s filming, as any good vlogger should, and tries to find the best place to set the lens on for when midnight hits. He thinks his viewers would probably like to see him, but he can’t really muster the strength for a show at the moment when he’d rather sulk about Emma not being here.

“Ten!”

Liam smiles at him and his lens from across the room. He manages one back before his brother turns to his wife.

“Nine!”

Killian downs a sip of his rum and licks his lips as he redirects the camera to the television screen.

“Eight!”

Killian’s eye catches the door when it jerks open ever so slightly.

“Seven!”

He sees a head of blonde and emerald green eyes shining back at him. His heart jumps.

“Six!”

He crosses the room, unable to speak. His camera comes with him, lens focused on Emma.

“Five!”

She smiles at him. He grins back.

“Four!”

He reaches her. He settles his arm around her middle before hers wrap around his neck. He has the camera held out so it can see both of them. If not for the vlog, he’ll want to remember this himself years down the road.

“Three!”

“What the bloody hell are you doing here?” he manages to ask.

“Two!”

She smiles coyly, fingers tugging at the hair at the nape of his neck. “I wanted my New Year’s kiss.”

“One!”

He steadies himself, unable to keep from kissing her for another second.

“Happy New Year!”

He leans in for the kiss, heart racing, smile wide, as he lifts her into his arms, her toes pushing up while laughter buzzes happily on his lips.

He doesn’t stop kissing her until he’s out of air, and even then he rests his forehead against hers. She brushes her fingers against his cheeks and cups his face in her hands.

“Happy New Year indeed.”

#cs ff #cs au #cs au week #cs fluff #my writing #cs fluff mine #angst

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rainingfishandfrogs · 6 years

Text

Home - Chpt. 3

Hey guys, I’m posting this a day early because I leave for a school break tomorrow. I was really excited to write this chapter, because I was looking forward to *spoilerspoilerspoiler,* and sorry to anyone hoping to go straight into the action, but today was really stressful and I needed something relaxing to write. It really helped that this chapter was outlined. Anyway, enjoy! =D

(AO3 | FFN)

(previous | next)

Snow White watched in silence as her daughter hugged Henry goodbye. Everything in her wanted to protest this—why did the rules change at all? It didn’t seem…she sighed and looked at the sand beneath her feet. She didn’t have any right to argue with Emma about leaving and she knew it.

Her relationship with her daughter was already delicate enough, trying to stop her from going without them or delaying this mission by searching for another way to accompany her would only lead to another fight and more disappointment. And she was so very tired of disappointing her child, but letting Emma leave to find Killian on her own was not Snow’s definition of keeping her promise.

Mary Margaret sat the long wooden table in her daughter’s kitchen. A steaming mug of tea growing cold between her hands.

“What would that have gotten me, Mother?”

Emma’s pissed off growl of an answer had been haunting her for days now. Mary Margaret sniffed and stared blankly at the table top. Everyone had gotten their memories back hours ago, a—gift of sorts Hook had called it. Some gift. Her thoughts were heavy with self-deprecation and shame.

Footsteps on the stairs alerted her to her husband. She turned her head slightly his way in acknowledgement when he squeezed her shoulder on his way to the tea kettle.

“How…?” her voice barely a whisper.

David paused his pouring, shoulders slumped. A firm shake of the head had her turning back to her mug. He joined her a minute later. They sat in broken quiet for awhile, until Mary Margaret forced her vocal cords to work.

“Regina called…”

David looked at her, but his wife’s gaze was still locked on her mug.

“Henry won’t talk to her,” she continued, “won’t even come out of his room. She said Robin’s having a hard time too, but he’s got Roland to think about so...”

David sighed and took a small sip of tea.

“How did things get so messed up?”

A beat, then:

“What if it’s our fault…?”

Her husband locked eyes on her immediately.

“Snow?”

When she finally looked back, he almost wished she hadn’t. Her eyes with red and glistening with unshed tears. It broke his heart to see her so torn up.

“Emma didn’t go to anyone for help once we got back here.”

David was shaking his head before she even finished, “Emma pushes people away when she’s scared or stressed. She knew she could come to us, she just—”

“Did she?”

“Yes,” he reached for her hand, but she moved it away. “Snow…honey, I-I know things with Emma have been…rocky to say the least—”

His wife scoffed at his terminology.

“—but we have to believe—”

SLAP!

Mary Margaret’s hand stung from force she used on the table, but it got the job done. Her husband instantly fell quiet.

“I don’t want to rely on blind faith anymore, David! She’s our daughter and we made her doubt us. Don’t you ever think about what happened in Camelot! Emma begged us, she begged us to help her save him and we didn’t—we wouldn’t—all because we were too concerned with dark magic!”

She glared at him through her tears, not caring that they were making her a mess.

“David don’t you see? She pushed Henry and Killian away to protect them, but she didn’t come to us because she didn’t trust us! She didn’t trust us to help her.” She buried her face in her hands and dissolved into tears; David drawing her to his chest. When her sobs lessened, Mary Margaret leant back to look her husband in the eye.

“We need to make a promise—to ourselves, but more importantly to Emma. We need to fight for her happy ending, we need to protect it at all costs—no matter what. Emma shouldn’t have to sacrifice her happiness and future for this town. We’ve asked far too much of her lately; it can’t go on.”

David rested his head on hers, they hugged each other tightly.

“I wholeheartedly agree.”

Snow jerked a little when warm fingers interlace with her own; her eyes followed the arm brushing against hers up to her husband’s worried yet understanding face. Charming squeezed their hands together and offered a little smile. Snow smiled back and nodded; let her prince lead her to their daughter.

Emma was in conversation with Regina and Robin, when they got there. Robin, almost sensing the prince and princess, clasped Emma on the shoulder before drawing the queen away. David could tell that despite the conversation they’d had before coming here, Emma still wasn’t thrilled about being left alone with her parents. That stung, even if they deserved it.

Snow offered her a cautious smile before tentatively going in for a hug; Emma hugged back but didn’t relax into it.

“You’ll find him, Emma.”

Emma pulled back and nodded, “That’s what Henry said.”

David grinned, “Henry’s a smart kid.”

He went for a hug too, which Emma also accepted a bit stiffly and which also ended too soon.

“I’m sorry we can’t go with you; the whole point of us coming down here was to find him together.”

Emma couldn’t help but smile at that, “I know.”

Emma bit her lip. Her parents were clearly trying. She closed her eyes and took a determined breath. When she opened them, her parents were anxiously watching her. She almost folded her arms over her chest, but refrained. Forgiveness was a two-way street after all.

“Look can you guys do something for me?”

Snow took a step forward, “Of course, sweetie. What is it?”

“Try and see if you can find another way to Hades’ palace. Something’s off about this arrangement.”

Snow and David exchanged looks; Snow locked eyes with Emma, her voice lowered.

“You can feel it too, huh?”

“Oh yeah.”

The Savior nodded toward Liam; the captain hugging his mother and the baby, the former of whom kept alternating between sending the ferryman distraught frowns and irate glares. It wasn’t so much her behavior, as the ferryman’s that made Emma suspicious. The man hadn’t really made eye-contact with any of them, but the way he was blatantly, almost nervously, avoiding the woman’s eyes? Yeah, that was weird.

Agreeing to be on the lookout, Emma drew them in for another hug, which was interrupted by a certain curly haired captain.

“We’re not leaving for a six-month voyage, Highnesses,” he called, standing just before the fog that shrouded the dock where their ride was waiting. “Let’s move Princess, if you going and you royals better not traumatize my mother while we’re gone. I may be dead, but you’re not and my blade can deal you damage.”

Emma rolled her eyes as he disappeared toward the boat. Henry ran to her for one last hug, but Liam was right—time to go. She kissed her son’s crown and followed Liam into the fog.

#my fic #once upon a time fic #cs fic #cs ff #cs fanfic #ouat fic #ouat fanfiction #ouat fanfic #captain swan fic #captain swan fanfiction #captain swan ff #once upon a time #once upon a time fanfiction #once upon a time ff #fic update #captain swan

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swanderful1 · 7 years

Text

A Cold Awakening: Ch 21/25

Summary: Modern crime AU. Twenty years have gone by since Storybrooke was shaken to the core by a gruesome crime that went unsolved. Sheriff David Nolan and his partner, daughter Emma are forced to revisit the crime. At the same time, Killian Jones and his older brother Liam have been drawn back to the town they had longed to never see again, struggling to find their own answers. As taunting notes and clues show up they are taken on a journey to finally bring justice for the Jones family. And Emma Nolan finds herself caught in a situation more dangerous than she could have ever imagined.

Notes: Once again special thank you to the sweet nugget, @shady-swan-jones for the banner for this story (still so grateful). HELLO IT HAS BEEN A MINUTE SINCE I UPDATED. So let me just apologize for that. I'm so sorry. I was having a lot of trouble focusing and writing and it took me forever to figure out which way to take this but I'm definitely more confident in my direction. I didn't want to post anything I was wishy-washy about. Thank you for your patience and support. Please leave feedback or whatever, I love hearing from people.

The whole thing can be read on either AO3 or ffnet (if you’re interested)

Disclaimer: I own nothing all rights to OUAT

Rating: M

Word Count: ~9000

Emma’s POV: Monday Night, 8:15 pm

“Milah,” Emma gasped. The woman she had pinned beneath her to the grassy ground was someone she had barely met before, but had the common threads of several circumstances, several people connecting them. But then the brown eyed woman looked up at her and Emma realized Milah probably had no idea who she was. “Or are you going by Grace again?”

The two women stayed quiet for a moment, the only sound coming from either of them being their ragged breathing from the chase. Even in the fading light of the evening, Emma could make out most of Milah’s features. After a few minutes Emma couldn’t swallow her words any longer.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” she asked, trying to sound objective, like a cop (well not really trying that hard actually). It came out harsh.

“How do you know who I am?” the woman asked, her jaw tightening and her opposing glare at Emma solidifying.

“I’m a cop. It’s my job,” Emma spat back.

What had gotten into her? She was never the type to be deliberately nasty to someone. Before she continued to speak, she reigned herself in, realizing that her reasons for being tough on Milah were personal. They could be directly linked to Neal’s long-felt abandonment from his mother. And more recently the tumult she had caused in Killian’s life. Killian. She had only just hung up the phone with him minutes ago to tell him she was on her way here. He had once loved this woman that Emma was now directing all of her hostility toward. Gulping down a stream of inappropriate sentences she opted for something more civil. “I’m going to need to escort you back to the house.”

Milah seemed to take the cue and her body softened a bit as well underneath Emma’s grasp. There was a brief flash of understanding in Milah’s eyes before she put her guard back up again.

“Is there a problem?” the brunette asked.

“There are many problems right now and the most pressing of which involves a proven murderer on the loose who you used to be married to.”

Emma began to rise from the ground and lock Milah’s wrists in the handcuffs, careful not to let the woman slip from her grasp. Though she didn’t look like she was about to sprint off into the night it was hard to tell just what this woman was capable of. Emma caught herself peeking down at Milah’s wrists to see if she had a tattoo that matched Killian’s. She didn’t. And Emma released a breath she didn’t know she was holding.

Putting Milah in front of her Emma began to urge them toward the house, lit dimly far off in the distance. She hadn’t realized just how far she had chased Milah, everything happening so quickly that she could have sworn it was only for about 30 seconds. But Milah was limping, which explained why Emma mistook her for Gold.

“Is your leg alright?” Emma asked. Not sure why she was even concerned. The task at hand was simple, get Milah back to the house, find out what her role in all this was. There was no need for small talk. No need for pleasantries.

“It caught on a tree root when I ran from the house…” Milah said warily. Even in the ill-lit path back Emma could tell she made the woman anxious. There was no way she could possibly know Emma’s affiliation with Killian, she may not even know her past with Neal either. Having been gone for so long, Neal not accepting her attempts to reach out in recent years.

“You can put ice on it when we get inside.”

Killian’s POV: Monday Night, 8:20 pm

Despite the circumstances, Killian Jones found the balcony of his rented hotel room just outside of Storybrooke, Maine to be one of his new favorite places. Often taking advantage of the private outdoor space to think. To ponder the world’s problems. To work on his laptop in near silence. To sit alongside his dog and take in the quiet evenings.

Which was why he was out here now, in the remaining light from the day, absentmindedly leafing through papers with his dog on the chaise lounge curled against his outstretched leg. His attempt to have a productive work day was in vain. Knowing that somewhere, not far, Emma was hunting down the man responsible for the death of his parents. To say he was worried about her would be a complete understatement.

He had gotten off the phone with her not even twenty minutes ago but now as night began to fall, he wished she was here with him as she had been the night before. He looked up from his paperwork, shivering at the thought of their night together. And when he closed his eyes he could almost picture Emma sitting between his legs instead of a growing stack of proposals and invoices.

The steam rose from the surface of the water that filled the tub, a soft scent of lavender from the bath oils. Emma laid her back against Killian’s bare chest. His hands resting over top of hers on her stomach. He pressed gentle kisses to the bare skin of her shoulder, the exposed space behind her ear, the top of her head. Anywhere he could get his lips on without disturbing her. Their bodies sated from another round of love making in the warm bath water. Her breathing slowed and for a second Killian wondered if she had fallen asleep.

“What’s the best memory you have of being a child?” she asked. He felt himself stiffen a bit but then relaxed. A loaded question that normally would have terrified him. But there was something about Emma that allowed him the comfort of opening up. He paused for a while, searching through all of the bad memories for one that was good.

“My mother was happiest when she was creating things.” He recalled all of the projects she used to take on. A creative soul that always turned toward art. “Most of the paintings in our home were done by her. Sometimes she would write little poems to go along with them.”

Emma spun in his arms to face him. Her eyes filled with curiosity. And he once again felt more at ease talking.

“When I was very little she would make up stories to tell me that went with her drawings. Wild tales of adventure and intrigue. She could come up with anything on the spot. Liam and I used to stay awake listening to her for hours,” he felt himself choke up a little. Knowing she had been going through so much at the time but choosing instead to treat Killian and Liam as though they were the kings of the castle.

Emma smiled at him and rested her hand on his cheek. The skin of her fingers beginning to wrinkle from their long stay in the tub. She didn’t say anything but her expression did everything to reassure him. With her it never felt like she was luring information. She simply wanted to get to know him, and he with her. Killian often caught himself wondering how he had gotten so lucky as to have met someone as incredible as Emma Nolan. And this was one of those (many, many) times.

When he snapped out of last night’s memory he was disappointed to find that he was still on the chaise lounge with his snoring dog. He stood from his seat, slowly moving his leg so as not to wake Princess and walked to the balcony railing. In his hand was lukewarm cup of tea, his third cup, that he now sipped just to give him something to do. That was all he had spent the day in search of. Something to do that was distracting enough to take his mind off of Emma chasing down the man who had murdered his parents.

There was no doubt in Killian’s mind that Gold was still a monster who wouldn’t hesitate to attack again if he felt it meant remaining in prison. How does one even escape a holding cell anymore? It wasn’t the 1600s. There were security cameras and armed guards. How does one man evade all of the hurdles? And if he’s capable of that then he certainly was a desperate man.

He hoped she would catch Gold and then this spiderweb of stress that formed in the pit of his stomach would resolve itself. Though as the time ticked by, Killian realized the hunt for Gold was most likely not an easy one and would obviously be rather extensive.

A breeze swept by, tickling Killian’s skin as he stared down from his balcony at the surrounding land. Imagining Emma safely by his side, her golden hair blowing the light summer breeze. Her easy smile calming his nerves. Her warm soul keeping him grounded on what was now important in his life. As it somehow had regained a purpose other than 80 hour work weeks and conference calls and paperwork. He had done a good amount while in Storybrooke. But he wasn’t nearly as invested in it anymore. And it wasn’t entirely because of the entrance of a certain deputy sheriff to his life, but she certainly helped. Emma Nolan was someone who made him see a life beyond his work, the prospect of taking a trip that wasn’t job related, the thought of spending a quiet evening at home, a Saturday morning in bed, Sunday evening dinners with Liam and his wife, getting to know his new niece or nephew as they grew, perhaps a life and family of his own.

But now he stood here worried sick about her safety, and all he could do was pace. Was it easier to have no one and be isolated from personal relationships than it was to deal with them?

Somewhere along the building of his tense mood, Princess had even gone back in the hotel room, presumably annoyed by how on edge Killian was. He rarely actually worried about people, for their safety, most of his life he hadn’t had someone to care that much for. Save for a few. And one of which, it turned out, had been lying to him the whole time.

Grace. Milah Gold. Whomever.

When he had found out that the woman he spent years loving, years building a life with, had betrayed him in such a way his brain could hardly process it. It’s one thing to lie about who you are, it was another to have that person once be married to the man who had murdered his parents. It was simply too coincidental for Killian to not think the worst. That it was all a sick ploy. But then his heart spoke, and told him that perhaps there was another side to things that he wasn’t seeing. The whole situation was highly complicated, and it broke him further every time he felt himself thinking about his ex-girlfriend. He could run in circles for days trying to figure it out but he knew that the only person who had all of the answers was Grace.

As time had gone on he realized, the answers didn’t so much matter anymore. Because his past was his past, it was a part of him. However, his future was clear. There was one woman he could truly see himself with for the rest of his life. And that woman was without a doubt Emma.

Emma’s POV: Monday Night, 8:25 pm

Once they finally reached the house, Emma opted to take Milah through the front door. But it was locked, so she rang the doorbell with her goddamn elbow while still holding onto Milah’s arm as tightly as she could. Under the light of the porch Emma got a decent look at Milah, a pretty woman, clearly older than she. With curly almost black hair and an angular face that was both striking and attractive. Assuming she was probably nearing 60 years old at this point, she looked incredible. For her age and for… well for any age. It was easy to see why Killian had been drawn to her. Though Emma had never been a jealous person, there was a small part of her that was intimidated by Milah. But then she remembered the night before, the time she had spent with Killian and let her mind wander.

After they had spent more than enough time soaking in the large bathtub in Killian’s suite, the two fell into bed together. Not even bothering to dry off or put clothes on before engaging in a long, slow round of making love to one another. This time bathed only in moonlight from the open windows of his bedroom.

In the wake of their passions they laid together, just staring into each other’s eyes. Emma had never felt like this with anyone before. She couldn’t remember a time she had ever been swept off of her feet by any man. He must have picked up on it because soon his hand reached out to brush her face.

“What are you thinking about, love?” he asked in that gorgeous voice of his. His blue eyes catching the briefest twinkle from the moonlight.

“You,” she said before she could think of something more vague. She didn’t feel the need to put up that veil with him.

“Ah, and what is it about me that’s running through your head?” Great. Just what he needed. More of an ego boost.

“I’ve just never been so happy with someone.” It was the truth, and at first it was scary, but now that she was embracing it she felt lighter. She reached up and grabbed his hand that still rested on her face.

“Aye, love. Me too,” he whispered, leaning forward to press a gentle kiss to her lips and tugging her body into his chest. “You’re the most incredible person I’ve ever known, darling.”

He was warm, and familiar but not in a bad way. In a way that made her realize, she would miss this if he went back to London. It made her realize that she wanted a future with him. And it made her realize that if she believed in soul mates (which she didn’t) that he would be hers.

Emma was distracted from her train of mushy thoughts when the front door began to open and she caught Milah looking down at her hand that was wrapped around the brunette’s arm. Her body sighed when she remembered she wasn’t in bed with Killian. She was face to face with his ex-girlfriend.

“Is there a problem?” Emma asked Milah, back to being angry with her. For no reason. Well for a lot of reasons but none that the woman was aware of.

“No.”

“Emma?” Ruby asked as she cautiously opened the door.

“Found someone outside…” Emma didn’t so much have to haul Milah into the house because the woman willingly went. Wait a minute, was she comfortable walking in here? Emma looked to Belle, who stood several steps into the foyer. Eyes blown wide. From shock or recognition Emma wasn’t sure, but something was definitely up.

“Is this….?” Ruby started.

“Yeah,” Emma mumbled before her best friend could finish.

“What do we do with her?”

“Find out all we can. Grab some ice for her ankle. We’ll go to the library.”

With her arm on Milah’s, following this illusive woman from behind, Emma and the others headed into a room she knew there weren’t a lot of alternative exits to. The library. A few windows lined the walls but they were all visible from Emma’s standpoint. She wasn’t leaving until she had a solution about why in the world Milah was lurking around outside and why Belle looked like a deer in the headlights right now.

Inside the library Emma had Ruby draw the blinds as she escorted Belle to a couch opposite Milah. And Milah was taken to the chair with a wooden arm Emma could lock her wrist around with one side of the handcuffs.

And again Emma caught Milah who, for whatever reason fixed her eyes on different parts of Emma’s arm as it locked the handcuffs on her wrist into place.

“Is he happy?” Milah whispered so low only Emma was able to hear.

“What?” Did she mean her son, Neal? Did Neal ever tell her about she and Henry? “Neal’s alright, as much as he can be. A lot has been happening in his life as of late but he and Henry…”

Milah’s brow crinkled, almost confused. “Neal, how do you know my son?”

“I-uh…”

“Killian…I was um, referring to him. That’s how you knew to call me Grace,” Milah said a bit louder, eye level with Emma who was knelt in front of her attempting to pretend she should still be in that position. “That is his shirt, correct?”

Emma’s eyes widened and she looked down at her arm where the sleeves of Killian’s shirt had been rolled. And where his initials were embroidered. That was why Milah had been staring at Emma’s arm. She had slipped it on this morning, since he had ripped her shirt the night before. She tried not to blush thinking of the memory of them so desperate to have each other they forgot all manners and decencies. She never thought that anyone would notice she was wearing his shirt. But of course, as luck would have it, like 5 people today had.

“But then what do you know about my son?” Milah’s voice was a bit more authoritative now, less soft and easy going than it had been when she first talked to Emma. Ruby and Belle had now clearly heard the nature of the conversation. For whatever reason Emma became nervous, standing from her spot. Even though she wasn’t the one in handcuffs, for a second she felt she had lost the upper hand.

“Neal and Emma were together for a long time…” Belle chimed in. Her soft voice coming from the couch opposite where Milah sat. “They have a son, Henry.”

“I have a grandson…?”

Emma nodded and begrudgingly looked back at Milah, whose eyes had only gotten wider. Though Emma knew the woman had no right to be angry, she could still think it was weird. Because it was weird. It was a completely odd situation.

“So you’ve been with my ex-boyfriend and my son?”

Emma grabbed at the sleeve of Killian’s shirt. Trying to cling to any of his scent that was leftover in the fabric. Wishing she was with him, wrapped in his arms with this whole case behind them, instead of where she was. Though normally, Emma was relatively confident in herself she felt like curling into a blanket right now. Preferably with Killian, the man she had fallen in love with.

“I... uh.… yeah… um…” Emma didn’t really have a clever, quick-witted response.

“I think we’re here to figure out more important things, so just put a pin in this for a while, you two, okay?” Ruby offered. Emma’s chest untightened a bit at her best friend’s suggestion to focus on why they were actually here and she gave the brunette the most gracious smile she could muster.

Killian’s POV: Monday Night, 8:45 pm

Since Emma left his hotel earlier that morning, Killian hadn’t stopped worrying about her. As silly as he knew it was, still his gut persisted. She had left him to chase down an escaped murderer, the very desperate man who had killed his own parents.

Killian himself was feeling desperation as he looked on at the space in the bed where the sheets were still tangled from his morning (and night) with Emma. If he laid down, it would no longer have the warmth of her body as she had left hours ago but her imprint was still there. He felt like a fool sitting across his bedroom staring at the sheets instead of doing something. He wasn’t helping. Emma was the one out in the world apprehending his parents’ killer. She was such an extraordinary woman.

“Little brother!” Killian heard the familiar, and at this moment, irritating sound of Liam’s voice from the downstairs.

Killian rolled his eyes. Now that he was in America he had been spending more time with Liam than he had in years. And while it was nice to reconnect with his brother it was also annoying at times because after all… he was his older brother.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Liam asked when Killian reached the bottom of the steps to the foyer.

“It wouldn’t hurt to just look.” Killian wasn’t sure if he was more convincing Liam or himself.

“Then let’s get on with it,” Liam said as he smiled, clearly sensing his brother’s apprehension and patting him on the back.

By the time they got into Liam’s car it was dark out. The day had gotten away from him. Liam started the car and as it growled to life Killian heard the ringing of his cell phone. His heart skipped when he thought maybe it would be Emma again. But it sank quickly realizing it was Regina, his lawyer.

After a quick conversation with the woman detailing the address they were supposed to meet her at and the way to get into the building, he hung up the phone, avoiding eye contact with his brother who was probably preparing to lay into him for being so obviously disappointed that it wasn’t Emma calling. But Liam didn’t. In fact, the ass was smiling and staring straight at the road ahead as they drove into the city.

“All of a sudden you don’t have an opinion?” Killian asked.

“Oh I do…” Liam smirked. “You just may not want to hear it.”

“When has that ever stopped you before?”

“Fair point. Maybe one day I will. Let’s just focus on the task at hand. Is Regina there yet?”

“Yeah, she’s already there.” They were only a few moments away themselves. Killian looked out the car window, the trees surrounding them on their drive slowly turning to buildings. High rise after high rise until finally they were in the city, and about to pull into the building’s garage.

A few moments later they were buzzed into the building by Regina, their lawyer and sometimes real estate agent who was just in general a phenomenal negotiator. As Killian rode the elevator up to the top floor he got nervous again. Swallowing a lump in his throat he stepped into the foyer of the apartment.

It was massive… and modern. The floors a bright white and the walls an identical color. Still he tried to keep an open mind. After all, he had Regina organize this apartment showing very last minute. He had been toying with the idea of getting a place in the city for a long time. Boston and New York being places he often went on business anyways, it made sense. But he hadn’t had the nerve to actually consider it seriously. Now he was though, and it was scary. What if Emma didn’t want the same future he did? What if the prospect of him getting a place so close instead of living on another continent was more terrifying for her than it was him?

“Killian, perhaps you should put one foot in front of the other to actually see the place. I’m fairly sure there’s more than one room here…” Liam urged from behind Killian, who had apparently stepped out of the elevator and completely frozen in his tracks.

“Finally, you two are here. They’re only letting us have the keys until 9:30, let’s look.” Regina came trotting into the expansive space, the click of her heels on the hospital white floors bringing Killian out of his daze. “Wait until you see the view.”

“Come on now,” Liam shoved playfully and Killian began to move through the apartment. Walking through the doors to what was the combination kitchen and great room he could see what Regina had been talking about.

The view was spectacular. The entire back wall made of floor to ceiling windows. Made to look like there wasn’t even a wall, like you were one with the sky. It was stunning. Killian loved a view, both his London flat and office had phenomenal picturesque views. A compromise to living in the city, and a way to feel like you weren’t living stacked one on top of the other.

Despite the stunning night time view, all Killian could come up with to say was, “There’s no outdoor space…”

“No but with a view like that, it’s almost like being outside…” Regina suggested. She had worked with Killian long enough to know when he wasn’t thrilled with something.

“But it isn’t the same.” Killian stepped as close to the windows as was allowed, looking down on the cars whipping past below. They looked like toys with plastic people. He was so far from it all. He tried to keep an open mind. “Is there any outdoor space within the building? Somewhere I can let the dog out and play?”

“No, but there’s a park a few blocks away where you can take Princess when she needs exercise.” Regina was being awfully suspicious Killian noticed as he looked at her and she wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“Regina, is this a dog friendly building?”

“Yes,” she answered. “But there are breed restrictions…”

“Breed restrictions, as in, no pitbulls?” Killian slowly felt himself begin to get angrier.

“Killian, if you buy the most expensive place in the building they’re not going to make you give up your dog,” Liam chimed in. Which only irritated Killian more.

“I don’t want to live in a building that has breed restrictions. Period.” Killian stormed off. Not even wanting to see the rest of it now. It felt like a hospital, not a home. And he so badly wanted a home.

In all honesty it wasn’t Regina’s fault that the place wasn’t ideal for him. She had done her best on the short notice and high list of demands he had given her. There was a bigger issue at hand here. He hadn’t ever talked to Emma, concretely about a future. And while he knew she cared deeply for him, did she want to have him so close by? Did she want the same future with him as he did her?

Emma’s POV: Monday Night, 8:45 pm

Now the library was quiet, the ticking of a grandfather clock in the corner serving as the soundtrack to the silence between the four women. Eventually Ruby made her way over to the couch area and stood in front of the empty fireplace to keep her own eye on things, while Emma stood opposite her. She crossed her arms as her mind raced trying to come up with the best way to tackle this.

At first Emma had suspected that Milah was working with Gold, that she had helped to set him free last night. That she was sneaking around Belle’s house as an enemy of the woman who was now married to her ex-husband. But as Emma looked at the two women sitting across from each other she realized something.

“This isn’t the first time you two have met.” Emma was matter of fact in her approach. It wasn’t for certain that she was right, but her gut told her that the way they had responded to seeing each other indicated that they knew one another. And not just in an ‘oh that’s my husband’s estranged ex-wife’ way.

Neither one of them spoke up. Emma made eye contact with Ruby then who looked skeptical of this whole arrangement as well.

“I need to know under what circumstances the two of you could have possibly met…” Emma continued.

“The sooner the two of you start talking, the better shot we have at actually catching your husband…. and your ex-husband,” Ruby said.

“Belle…” Emma started, trying to come across as non-threatening. The two had worked together for a long time, if there was any way Belle could help them out, Emma would be sure to return the favor. “You know I don’t want you to get caught in the crossfires of this investigation anymore than you already have. So if there’s any way to prove that you weren’t holding this secret on behalf of your husband. It’s in your best interest to talk to me.”

Belle held statue still, as Emma hoped that she in some way got through to her. The brunette quickly glanced at Milah, whose eyes went from calm to nervous. From the look on Belle’s face it appeared as though she was measuring her options. She could talk to Emma, work with her, help out or she could keep whatever unspoken alliance was happening between she and her husband’s ex-wife.

And then it clicked. But Ruby beat Emma to the question.

“Belle… did you know your husband killed Brennan and Moira Jones?” her best friend asked, warily. It sounded crazy, the idea they were potentially getting at. At least Emma assumed that was what Ruby was eluding to. Emma had guessed for a while Belle knew what Gold had been up to. Ever since the day of his arrest when she all but gave them the location of the dagger he used to stab Killian’s parents. But then Milah was here, and she was somehow involved. Did she know too?

“Yes… but not the whole time….” Now really wasn’t the time to tread lightly.

“How long have you known?” Emma chimed in. Floored that Belle, a person on the police force working toward solving the case would have known this for any length of time. “Then I’m assuming you knew too?” She turned to Milah.

Both of the women were silent.

“Belle, how long did you know?” Still the women remained silent. If they both knew then they had definitely discussed a bond of silence. “If you don’t give me an answer I will have no choice but to say that both of you were aware for a long enough time to make you an accessory to the crime.”

She wouldn’t do that. But she had to keep them talking.

“I’ve known something was… different, about Robert for a while now. As far as the crime goes, that knowledge came about a year ago.”

Emma kept her eyes on Belle as she spoke, in an attempt to give an unofficial lie detector test, but every so often her gaze would shift to Milah. Who looked just as surprised as Emma and Ruby, however not for the same reasons. Milah’s surprise came from the fact that Belle was talking about any of it.

It was clear as day to Emma that the two women knew each other. The way they first reacted to each other when Emma brought Milah in the house, the way their eyes found each other every few seconds to double and triple check their allegiance, and most importantly, earlier when Emma had only said they were going to ‘the library’ and Milah had known exactly how to get to that room from the front hall.

“At first I thought he was having an affair, with the jewelry. But then I started searching…” Belle was giving the basic breakdown of how she had ultimately made the discovery. Piece by piece finding things that all pointed to a heart wrenching truth. The man she had married was a dangerous monster who had gotten away with committing an unspeakable crime and she feared if she wasn’t careful she would be next.

“And then when he started to catch on to my suspicions… I’ve never felt more in danger.” She talked of being systematically poisoned. A slow burning illness to distract from her terrible feeling about Robert Gold.

“Why wouldn’t you come to the police sooner?” Ruby asked.

Belle appeared to be summoning all of her strength as the wounds from her husband went far deeper than her forced illness. And speaking up was easier said than done. Especially when you’re scared and uncertain. “I knew enough of the case to know that it was botched and screwed up and no one wanted to touch it after your grandfather died, Emma. It was just such a conundrum for everyone. They had spent years searching and found nothing. And the town had suffered because of it. No one would reopen it if there wasn’t a decent trail to follow. It was too risky.”

Another deep breath. Milah still remained silent, but her hand was almost floating in the air, an unconscious motion for her wanting to comfort Belle.

“If he was going to get caught, and convicted and sent to prison for this, especially 20 years after it had happened I needed all of the evidence I could find. And none of it could come from my own home. He would know.”

Emma went through the trail in her head. Most of the pieces they had been sent as evidence hadn’t come from the Gold house. Only at the end, when they arrested Robert did they find the dagger in his shop. There was but one letter in the entire home during the search.

“So where does she come into all of this?” Ruby uncrossed her arms, looking at Milah who was still quiet.

“She helped me.” Belle confessed. “I sought her out. At a time where I felt I had no one, I had her.”

Belle had found Milah, going so far as to visit her in London. They shared their experiences and as it happened, Milah’s experience was not unlike Belle’s. It was then that they agreed to work together, to find a way to see that Robert Gold couldn’t hurt another person again. And the woman with the wild brown hair and pretty face, who Emma had resented for most of her relationship with Neal, suddenly didn’t appear as such an enemy. Now knowing that assuming the woman had simply abandoned him without a care in the world was incorrect.

The reality of it was, Milah had experienced the same slow-coming illness that inevitably left her too ill to get out of bed. With erratic behavior. Eventually, for Neal, she chose to leave. To get well and then return. But that never happened.

“After so many years, Robert told me it would be worse for Neal if I returned,” Milah spoke, she did have a lovely accent. One that matched Killian’s in a way Emma wasn’t expecting. “I took his word, after all he had raised Neal in my absence. I knew that my last interactions with my son were so terrible. Especially for him. It’s something I’ve never forgiven myself for.”

Emma thought of how Neal had told her his mother had tried periodically contacting him. Milah was too scared to attempt to be in his life. So here were two more women who had been intertwined in Robert Gold’s web.

“To live with him, to sleep in the same bed every night knowing what he had done… what he could do... it’s terrifying.” Tears were behind her soft eyes, as Belle spoke. And Emma knew then that Belle revealing the truth about her husband wasn’t an act of revenge it was an act of justice. “When you came to my house to arrest him that morning, I felt so tired and drained. So when you asked me about the murder weapon, I just gave you what I thought was the best answer. It was too hard to continue hiding it. The night you arrested Robert was the first night I slept in nearly a year.”

Emma walked over to her, sitting down on the couch next to her. This woman she had worked quietly near for years, and never known the struggles of.

“I’m not going to let him hurt you anymore.” Emma rested her hand on the young woman’s, feeling the faint tremble of Belle’s palm, whose dainty fingers no longer donned a wedding ring. “To either of you anymore.”

“I know.” For the first time in a while, Belle smiled. It wasn’t jubilant or happy, but relief. Like no matter what happened to her from this point on didn’t matter because the truth had been fully revealed.

Killian’s POV: Monday Night, 8:50 pm

“Hey… where are you going?” Liam’s voice sounded in the large, echoey room as Killian feverishly pressed the elevator button to leave the apartment. “I drove.”

“This was a stupid idea.”

“Something tells me this is about more than just the apartment.” Liam approached warily, like Killian was a spooked horse. “I’ve never seen you this way, Killian. Not even with.. Well with you know who…”

“You can say her name, Liam. She’s not Voldemort.”

“I know that Grace… Milah? What are we calling her?”

“Whatever you want. Get on with it.” It was frustrating to him. That after all of the years he spent with her, he still didn’t know what to actually call her. He had always known her as Grace, the proof was etched in black ink on his forearm. But everyone here had known her as Milah.

“I just want you to be happy, little brother. As much as you think that the life choices you’ve made leave you incapable of finding that happiness, that isn’t true. Just because Grace betrayed you, doesn’t mean she didn’t have her reasons and it also doesn’t mean that you can’t look forward to a future with Emma.”

“But how do I know Emma wants a future with me?” It was unlike him to be so uncertain. But given the circumstances of apartment hunting in the city not far from where Emma called home, it made the prospect of a future with her all the more real.

“Talk to her about it, you idiot. You spend all sorts of time together and you’re both too stubborn to come out and say that you want each other around when the dust settles.”

“Can you blame me for being unsure?” Killian eased a bit, Liam was right. Emma was the one he wanted around in the calm before the storm, during the storm, after the storm. She was the ray of light in his present compared to his dark and gloomy past. “I’ve only ever had one serious relationship and it didn’t end so well… I’m 0 for 1 right now.”

“Emma is different.” Liam reached his hand out and rested it on his shoulder. “It’s not her you’re uncertain of. It’s you. And because of that you’ve been running your whole life, Killian. It’s all right to stand still for a while.”

Killian released a breath, his body losing all of the tension he was feeling. He wouldn’t do anything, buy any property without knowing how Emma felt about it. But he had to be the one to start that conversation.

“We have a date on Thursday. Perhaps then…”

“A real live date?” Liam’s amusement was unmasked.

“Hey. She said yes.”

“That’s shocking considering you’re clearly the less-handsome brother.”

Killian raised his eyebrow, pretending to be pissed off. This was what they did. And it was another part of why Killian thought being around here would be good. He could be close to his family.

“Besides… a certain niece of yours has expressed to me several times that she wants her Uncle Killian to babysit her, all of the time,” Liam said, a face of mock annoyance even though he knew what his brother was overall trying to say. That it wasn’t just Harper who wanted Killian around.

“Aye, well, that’s because I’m a lot more fun than you.”

They both laughed at that, easing beyond the heavier parts of their earlier conversation and into something more comfortable. Killian had lived so far from Liam for so long, he was all that remained of his family. And there was a large part of Killian that wanted to be in his brother’s life. Liam was his best friend, and living apart from him had made Killian feel ultimately alone in this world. It didn’t have to be that way though, which was something he was realizing with each day he was in Storybrooke.

After his and Liam’s conversation, Regina met them in the elevator and Killian apologized for how rude he had been. It was in no way her fault nor her responsibility to find him a place to live. Though he would need her to negotiate pricing for him, that would come later. They separated from her once the elevator reached the ground floor, Killian telling Regina he needed to talk to someone before making any irrational decisions about real estate. She gave him a knowing smile, probably aware of the person Killian was referring to, but otherwise said nothing to indicate she knew that person was Emma (she definitely knew).

When he and Liam got back into the car, Killian checked his phone for the first time in a while. There were no missed calls or texts from Emma and a gut feeling told him he shouldn’t be the one to call her first. Who knows what she was up to in pursuit of Gold, the last thing she needed was an anxious phone call in the middle of a stake out. However, that was the exact thing Killian needed at the moment. To call her and to hear her voice just to know she was safe.

“I could use a drink,” Liam mumbled after driving a few minutes. Killian knew he would just pace and torture himself if he was alone in his hotel room. So he agreed to get a drink with Liam, after all it was only 9 pm.

Emma’s POV: Monday Night, 9:30 pm

After hearing the remainder of their story, Emma knew they were telling the truth. Both Milah and Belle had admitted they had been the ones sending the clues. Milah coming back to America to work with Belle to pull all of the information they could. Spending late nights in a hotel room towns over mapping out the plan. Belle needed Milah because otherwise her husband would have suspected her. And Milah needed Belle because she was the one who had used her police experience to put the pieces together.

Emma looked over at Ruby, who was just as affected by the outpouring of the stories these women had. She nodded for her best friend to follow her to a corner of the room. Emma looked at Ruby, gauging how she felt about all of this.

“I mean, we’ll need to get some sort of confirmation that the two of them both suffered these illnesses. And correspondence between them will be helpful in pleading their case,” Ruby started.

“We can try to get them off as easy as possible. But they admitted to sending the clues.” Emma looked over at the two, who seemed the slightest bit relieved. “They won’t get out of this easy. And we’re going to have to tell David.”

“Yeah. They’ll have to give official statements. Should we bring them down now?”

“We’ll give them a little while longer to calm down. Then we can take them to the station. I think they’ve been through enough.”

“I’ve got to say, Em, you’re handling this a lot better than most people would…”

“What? My ex-boyfriend’s mother and current boyfriend’s ex-girlfriend turning out to be the same person?” Emma said sarcastically. But it was her job, her career, to put the pieces together with the help of this woman. “Doesn’t this happen to everyone?”

“You know it doesn’t.” Ruby smiled deviously. “And I didn’t miss that you just called Killian your current boyfriend.”

Emma bit the inside of her mouth. Cursing herself for the slip of the tongue. But not really that angry about it.

“I mean… he asked me on a date. Thursday.” Emma got a little nervous thinking about it. She hadn’t been on a date that she enjoyed in a long time. But then remembered that it was Killian, and the nerves went away. She always enjoyed her time with him. Even if it was often limited to being between crises.

“It’s about damn time.” Ruby smiled at her, less devious this time and more… happy. “You deserve it. I think you both do honestly.”

“Thanks. But I think I need to talk to her. Privately.” Emma looked over at Milah, who stared off into the distance. Looking exhausted.

“You don’t owe her any kind of explanation, Em.”

“I know.” Emma was still going to give her one though. Ruby didn’t have to know that. Neither did Belle. She just wanted to sit down, woman to woman, and say what she wanted to. So she strode over to where the woman sat and bent down to unlatch her handcuffs.

“Can we talk for a second?” Emma said softly, not wanting Milah to think this was a set up.

“Sure,” the woman said back. She looked skeptical of Emma, but followed her to a quieter corner of the room anyway where there were two chairs surrounded by a small alcove of books.

“Neal and I got together when we were young. Too young, probably, to have been together,” Emma started. “And then we had a baby our senior year of high school. Your grandson, Henry.”

She didn’t want to get too far into things, hoping that maybe someday Neal would tell her about him growing up.

“Even though we haven’t been together for a very long time, he’s still my family. I spend every holiday with him. We share a son. He still buys me Mother’s Day flowers…” that last one probably stung. And Emma retracted just a bit.

“His father has turned out to be an awful man. And I think that Neal could benefit from you coming back into his life,” Emma said confidently. Knowing that smoothing things over with his mother could only help him at this point. If Neal could hear her side of the story, maybe he could forgive her someday.

Milah simply nodded. A soft smile crossing her face. The only sign of wrinkles on the woman’s face came at the corners of her eyes when she smiled.

“And to answer your earlier question, yes Killian is happy.” Emma looked down at her sleeve. Remembering being in bed with him the night before, professing to each other just how happy they were together. But even if they hadn’t had that conversation, she knew in her heart he was. “Better than he’s been in a long time.”

“I suppose then he knows I wasn’t truthful about my identity.”

Emma thought back to the night she discovered it. And had immediately told Killian she knew his ex had been lying to him. That night she wondered if Milah knew the dark connection between herself and Killian Jones when she began dating him.

As if reading Emma’s mind Milah said, “I didn’t know when I met him. Who he was. And I didn’t know that my ex-husband had killed his parents.”

“Was that why you broke it off?” Emma asked, when she and Belle were explaining the timeline of their meeting Emma had done the math. ‘Grace’ had broken up with Killian right around the time Belle went to London.

Milah nodded. The faintest hint of tears in her strong eyes. “I knew if I told him, he wouldn’t ever look at me the same. And hoped…”

“That he would never find out who you had been?”

“It’s foolish right?”

“No.” As much as Emma came into this situation thinking that she didn’t particularly like Milah’s choices, on some level she got it. The woman wanted Killian to move forward. “I think you wanted him to have a shot.”

Milah reached out for Emma’s hand, grabbing it gently across the small wooden table that divided them. It surprised Emma but she didn’t pull away. Instead looking into Milah’s eyes and realizing that any jealousy, any competition Emma had felt toward the woman earlier was in vain. She wasn’t going to try to snatch Killian from her, she wasn’t here to come between them.

“Thank you, Emma,” Milah whispered, squeezing Emma’s hand once more before releasing. The words weren’t there totally, but it felt like they understood each other.

A few moments later, the two women left the corner to rejoin Ruby and Belle who were sitting quietly chatting in the center of the room. Belle looked a bit more at ease, though there was still the looming wonder of what would happen when she and Milah confessed to the rest of the investigation team to leaving the clues. Emma and Ruby had promised they would work hard to ensure their punishments were as light as possible, but in front of a judge there was only so much they could do.

But going in the women had known what they were doing would have repercussions, and had discussed at length what they would do if caught. To both Milah and Belle it was worth it though. Because Robert Gold would be behind bars, something that was long overdue.

Emma’s phone began to ring, everyone in the room looking over to her because it was the only sound that could be heard. A part of her hoped it was Killian, she had called him around 8 but couldn’t talk long and she wanted to hear his smooth voice wrapped around her name. Wanted the butterflies that erupted in her stomach when he called her ‘my love’. But when she checked the front screen it was David, her father, calling and the butterflies she had dreamed up a few seconds ago were gone.

“Hi dad, everything okay?” she asked. Knowing everything was probably not okay and that she needed to tell him all about Milah and Belle. Eventually.

“Em how soon can you be down to the docks?” David asked, his normally calm voice laced with urgency.

“Um… soon? Why what’s going on?”

“It’s Gold. Someone called in and spotted someone suspicious around the cargo ships. We haven’t been able to get ahold of Neal but his car’s missing…”

“What?!” Emma screamed into the receiver. Not quite knowing how to process all of this.

“We need you down here. Have Ruby take Belle down to the station, they’ll be safe there.”

“Alright. I’ll get there as soon as I can.” Emma hung up the phone, too shocked to even move for a few seconds. Neal’s car was gone, Gold was gone. They couldn’t find either. Emma hated the path her thoughts were taking. Gold at the docks was one of the worst places he could be. Hundreds of tons of cargo came through there everyday. He could be stowed away anywhere. Off to the great unknown in seconds as soon as the travel restrictions were lifted. Emma gulped and stopped letting her mind race. She knew what she had to do.

Killian’s POV: Monday Night, 11 pm

A few hours later, and only about 2 beers in, Killian and Liam left the Boston bar to return to their respective rented homes. Getting in the car Killian once again checked his phone to find he had heard nothing from Emma though it was getting progressively later.

“She’s alright, Killian,” Liam offered as he drove through the dark city streets, heading toward Killian’s hotel.

“We don’t know that.”

“No, but thinking otherwise won’t make this go any faster.” Liam stole a glance at Killian looking awfully sympathetic for an older brother who spent most of his time teasing him. “She’s great at her job, Killian.”

“I don’t doubt her abilities as a cop so much as I doubt Robert Gold’s abilities to be a decent human being.”

“I know.” Liam couldn’t offer Killian anything else. Because there wasn’t any argument against what a terrible person Robert Gold was. He had murdered their parents in cold blood. Obviously he was capable of horrid things, and who knew what he would do as a desperate man on the run.

A few moments later Killian jumped as his phone began to ring. He looked down at the caller ID and saw Emma’s name on the screen.

“Oh thank God,” he breathed before swiping the phone to answer. “I was beginning to think you’d never call, love.”

“Killian, it’s not Emma. This is Ruby.”

Killian audibly gulped. Instinct telling him something had to be wrong for Emma not to call him directly herself. Dread filled his body.

“Something happened… Emma’s, well, she’s…”

“What is it, is she alright?” Killian felt a mixed wave of anger, fear, and devastation take over. It felt like his throat might close as he waited mere seconds for Ruby to answer.

“Killian…. Things went really, really wrong… Emma’s hurt. She’s in the hospital.”

It was at that moment that his fears were truly realized and all of the anxiety and dread Killian had been feeling all day was nothing compared to the feeling that he had right now. The worry that took over every system in his body. The gut wrenching sadness that came with picturing his Emma lying in a hospital bed. One where he swore his heart that Emma had done everything to mend was now breaking in half.

#cs ff #cs au #captain swan fanfiction #cs fic #cs ff au #captain swan #emma swan #killian jones #cs modern au

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trueloveseyeroll · 7 years

Text

When The Tide Turns (6/16)

Summary: The plan was to go to England, finish the case and head back home in a matter of days. Of course, nothing in Emma’s life ever goes according to plan. Not only does she end up travelling across Europe, looking for a Liam Jones in order to finish her case, she ends up travelling with Liam’s brother - an annoyingly handsome Killian Jones. And she doesn’t trust him one bit.

Rating: T, for language and a bit of violence later on

Beta-reader: I would never have finished this without the lovely @forget-me-not-s :))

Artists: these artists are seriously such talentented and amazing people, and they deserve so much praise!!! @theblacksiren - check out her beautiful artwork for chapter 1 here! @optomisticgirl created the awesome banner - and @fairytalesandtimetravel has created a true masterpiece for a later chapter, and it honestly brings tears to my eyes, it’s so beautiful.

Word count: ~3697 (68k+ in total)

AO3

Emma trudged down the hall towards the stairs. Her hair was damp from the shower and her stomach was all but growling at her. She felt kind of pathetic. Already 10 AM, and she’d barely woken up yet - it could have been four in the morning for all she knew.

Emma didn’t get very far down the stairs. A certain Killian blocked her way.

They both stopped in their tracks and the uneasiness Emma had felt since she woke flared as she took him in. Last night had been... well, Emma was half-convinced it was all a dream.

Killian scratched his neck. “Morning, love. I, uh, I’ve already eaten.”

Emma lifted a shoulder. “Yeah, I kinda overslept.” She shrugged and blamed jet lag.

Killian shuffled a bit. He was still blocking the way - the stairs weren’t very wide here. “I just need to retrieve something from my room, but then I’ll join you. If you’d like of course,” he added.

Emma shrugged again. “Sure.”

Killian finally made space, leaving the stairs and going to his room as Emma went to the dining room. The uneasiness was tenfold now. Yesterday morning, she thought of Killian as nothing but trouble. An untrustworthy liar, who may or may not be helpful.

He was still trouble, that much was certain. But... so much of the anger towards him had disappeared. Instead, some sort of understanding was forming.

And Emma didn’t like that one bit.

The dining room was neither empty nor full. A couple sat in the corner, and two different families occupied the larger tables. Emma took a seat at the table farthest from all three, grabbing two pieces of toast, a croissant and a much-needed cup of coffee.

Belle wouldn’t join them today. She was back to working her normal schedule at the library. The plan had never been for Emma and Killian to stay in Valadilene for long after all. They’d only booked two nights and now... well, where the hell were they going to go now?

As Emma stressed over the impossibility of the situation, nibbling at her croissant, Killian made his way over to her table. She avoided meeting his eyes. Avoided looking at him at all, except a first glance.

Killian hesitated before sitting down. Only for a second, but Emma noticed it. She sipped her coffee.

“So,” Killian began. “How’s your hand?”

“It’s fine.” She had swapped his scarf with a proper band-aid before she’d gone to bed last night. She should probably return that scarf to him...

Killian seemed to be in deep thought, internally debating something. Emma couldn’t deny that she was doing the same thing - had been doing it since she woke up. She took it out on her croissant, peeling off the delicate flakes; until she realized she was wasting a pretty good croissant, and decided to change tactics.

“Do you think Liam is in that Neverland-place?”

Her question took Killian by surprise - or perhaps the fact that she’d opened her mouth and said something was a surprise in itself.

“I thought you didn’t believe in Neverland.”

“Of course I don’t believe in Neverland. This Neverland-place is obviously just a nickname or code for some other place. And I guess that if the ‘bedtime stories’ as you call them have been in your family for generations, it would make sense that they once needed a compass and a sextant to find their way. I mean, it’s not like they had a GPS.”

If Emma didn’t know any better, she’d say there was a look of amusement in Killian’s eyes. Except she did know better. And there was amusement in those damned blue eyes of his.

Before he could make some comment, Emma repeated her question. “So do you think Liam’s hiding there?”

Killian thought of it for a moment. “It’s a possibility.”

“So what we really need right now is a map.”

“I would think a map has always been something we could make use of,” Killian said. Emma had half a mind to kick his shin under the table.

“Yes, but now we actually know what we’re looking for on the map.”

“I doubt you’ll find the location of Neverland on a map, love.”

Emma glared at him. “Not on any normal map, no. But your uncle’s office was flooding with all kinds of papers - drawings of boats, sketches of constellations... there’s bound to be a map somewhere in between all that. Or maybe it’s in his house!”

Killian thought of what she said, but he didn’t look like he agreed with her. “You’re suggesting we go back to Willesby and ransack the home of a dead man?”

“You got any better ideas?”

Killian held her stare for a moment. He said nothing. His eyes fell to his hands in his lap. Or rather, the envelopes he held. He revealed them to Emma, placing them on the table in front of him. “I wanted to show you these.”

Emma studied the envelopes, Barrie Jones written on each of them.

Her eyes shot up towards Killian’s. “Are those from-”

“Liam? Aye,” Killian answered before she’d even finished her question. “I found them when I was-”

“Snooping around in Barrie’s office,” Emma finished, narrowing her eyes at him and the envelopes.

Killian only smirked. “I am a pirate after all.”

Emma ignored his joke. “What do they say?” she nodded at the letters. “Did he write anything about where he is?”

“Oh yes, the exact coordinates - I just thought I’d travel around Europe acting clueless for the fun of it.”

“Alright, stupid question,” Emma admitted. “But is there anything useful in them?”

“Why don’t you read them yourself, love. It’s mostly gibberish, but you did somehow find out about Belle, so perhaps...” Killian trailed off as he handed the letters to Emma.

It seemed so clear now, what he was doing; sharing a piece of his information, so that she felt pressured to tell him how she found out about Belle.

Emma took the letters from his hand, determined not to feel pressured to do anything. Liam’s album of drawings was the only thing she had. Letting Killian know about it would risk him taking it and leaving her stranded with an angry Regina back home. And who knew how Mr. Gold would take it when he learned she’d failed something as simple as a business transaction that had already been mostly finished.

Of course, nothing about the case was simple anymore.

“Germany, Spain, and Norway,” Emma read off the post-stamps. Maybe Germany’s actually Neverland, who knows? She opened Liam’s letter from Germany, noticing the lack of date. Just like his drawings.

The letter was short, Liam’s handwriting hard to read.

Dear uncle,

I shouldn’t have left. I can’t stop reliving it every moment I’m awake and every second I get of sleep. I’m haunted by guilt, don’t you understand? I should never have left Killian. But I know, Neverland has to be hidden. I know. Tell Killian. Killian has to know.

Liam

It took Emma a good long minute to read the few lines of scribbled words. Finally, she looked up at Killian. “Tell you what?”

“I wish I knew. However, my dear uncle never did get around to telling me whatever it was he should have told me.”

“Well, Barrie obviously knew something about Neverland if Liam wrote to him about it.” Emma looked over the letter again, reading one particular line out loud. “’Neverland has to be hidden’. That means hiding the sextant?”

“Aye, that’s what I assume,” Killian nodded.

But why did Neverland have to be hidden? You couldn’t exactly hide a place... Emma chose not to ask Killian though, doubting he had any good answers.

Instead, she opened the letter from Spain. It was easier to read, though Liam’s words were pretty angry. Angry at Barrie for disowning Killian. That was never meant to happen.

When the rest of the letter turned out to be incoherent nonsense - which Killian didn’t believe could be code language - Emma opened the third and final letter.

It’s done. Those two words were followed by a poem.

“It’s our mother’s lullaby,” Killian said as she read the lyrics. It was a nice song. A song of the sea, of course, befitting the Jones family and their obsession with the ocean...

“It’s got to mean something,” Emma wondered out loud. “I mean, the ‘it’s done’ probably means that the sextant was hidden by then - although it doesn’t make sense that he’d write that in a letter from Norway and not France... But what is it about the lullaby and the music boxes and everything?”

“I’m not sure,” Killian answered. “The lullaby shouldn’t mean anything to Barrie - he hardly knew our mother, and the song came from her side of the family. It was always a memory that Liam and I shared of her. I’ve been wondering if, with the instability in Liam’s mind, the lullaby was a way to keep himself grounded. But then he left his music box here, inside a torch of all things, and I can’t help but feel as if he left it there for me. He did write that there was something he wanted me to know, that he shouldn’t have left me. Perhaps...” Killian trailed off, as though he thought he’d said too much.

“You think he left a trail specifically for you?” Emma guessed. “And the sextant is just like... a breadcrumb.”

“Aye. The git just isn’t very good at leaving sensible trails, is he?”

Emma thought of the album of Liam’s drawings lying in her suitcase upstairs. Without it, she would never have found out about Valadilene. Killian would never have found the sextant. She’d wondered why Liam would send a drawing of Belle to his uncle, what it was that made her so important... was this it? Belle was supposed to stand out so Emma would go to Valadilene. Or - of course - not Emma, but Killian.

Still, why send the drawing of Belle to Barrie?

Maybe Jones has got it wrong. The trail isn’t for him, but for Barrie... Emma didn’t like that thought, and tried to deny she’d ever thought of it. Killian’s love for his brother was one of the few things Emma was absolutely certain about. If Liam never meant for Killian to find him, but only for his uncle to find him - the uncle that had disowned Killian - well, that was pretty harsh.

(She tried not to think of how much she didn’t like the thought of Killian being hurt like that.)

When Swan slouched back in her chair, Killian did the same. He hadn’t noticed how much they’d both been leaning in over the table.

Swan finished a piece of toast and sipped her coffee. She held the mug in front of her, cradling it in her hands. Killian wondered what conclusion the turning gears in her head were drawing as she stared at her mug.

He hoped he had made the right decision. Swan finding out about the sextant hadn’t been favourable, but inevitable, he supposed. As long as he kept her in the dark about the spyglass... the less she knew, the better.

Therefore, showing her Liam’s letters may have been stupid. On the other hand, there wasn’t much information for her to gain from them that he hadn’t already told her. Showing her the letters acted to gain her trust. He doubted its efficiency. But if they wanted to find Liam, they would both have to make efforts at trusting each other, even if they didn’t truly trust each other.

“I really think going back to look through Barrie’s stuff is the best idea right now,” Swan broke the silence that had settled between them.

Killian understood her point. Barrie clearly knew a lot about Neverland, if Liam’s letters were to be trusted. But Killian also knew that the spyglass wouldn’t be in Willesby.

“Perhaps we should make sure we’ve exhausted all other options before we head back to Willesby.”

“Jones, we have no other options to exhaust. We’ve hit a dead-end - the best thing to do is go back to the start and look for things we weren’t looking for before.”

“But what if Neverland truly doesn’t exist in any form? You’re looking for a map that might not exist; meanwhile, Liam is somewhere in Italy or who knows where.” In truth, Killian did believe in Neverland’s existence. He just knew that no map of the place existed.

Swan huffed. “What do you wanna do then? Ask Belle one more time if she knows where Liam went?”

Her question - though meant to be spiteful - sparked an idea in Killian’s mind. “Perhaps you’re right Swan. When you encounter a dead-end, going back and looking at everything with new and wiser eyes might help. And I’ve realized that we’ve asked Belle many a question, but never one about Neverland.” He raised an eyebrow, silently asking Swan what she thought.

She said nothing for a few seconds. Then her resolve seemed to wear off. “Fine. We’ll go talk to Belle. But I’ll need another cup of coffee first.”

“Neverland?” Belle repeated. They had found her in one of the aisles, replacing books on the shelves. “Well... he did say something about Neverland once, but it was a joke, really. You see, he wore this ring on a chain around his neck and when I asked him about it, he joked and said he’d gotten it from Neverland.”

A ring? Killian couldn’t remember Liam ever wearing a ring around his neck. He looked at his own bejewelled fingers - rings had always been his thing.

Swan turned her head towards him. “Did Liam have a girlfriend or someone else special?”

“Not that I know of,” Killian answered. Well, he did know of a girl, but not a girlfriend. But that was a secret he wasn’t quite willing to share yet.

Swan turned back to Belle. “You don’t know of any real place that’s sometimes referred to as Neverland, do you?”

“No, I’m afraid not.”

The look Swan sent Killian wasn’t subtle in its ‘I told you so’.

“Well, thank you for all your help, Belle. And your patience. I think we’ll be heading back to Willesby today to see if there are any clues there that we’ve missed,” Swan said.

“I’m only sorry I haven’t been of more help,” Belle frowned; then she seemed to remember something. “What about Liam’s drawings? You said on the phone that you found me through one of Liam’s drawings - couldn’t there be other clues in the rest of them?”

Drawings? Had Swan found out about Belle through a drawing?

One look at Swan told Killian she wasn’t happy about Belle mentioning those drawings. But why had she kept them a secret? To have some kind of leverage?

Of course she kept it secret to have leverage. She doesn’t trust you any more than you trust her, Killian thought. And you don’t give away your best source of information to someone you don’t trust. He was following the same tactic after all.

Of course Belle had to go and mention the drawings. Emma tried to mask the irritation she felt, but with Killian looking at her like that, all “you’ve been keeping a secret from me, have you?” it was hard not to feel pissed.

“Um, I think you were the only clue to be found there,” Emma said, not entirely sure if she was lying or not. Finding Belle had been easy - she was the only person Liam had drawn - but how would any of the other drawings help? Going to Paris just because Liam had drawn the Eiffel Tower wasn’t exactly useful.

“Why don’t I have a look at those drawings, Swan? It’s funny you’ve never mentioned them - perhaps I have some knowledge that can help unveil a clue or two.”

Emma gritted her teeth. She knew Killian had a point. She just couldn’t risk him discovering something without telling her, and then leaving as soon as he got the chance. But it seemed the choice wasn’t hers to make anymore. Of course, she could lie and say she hadn’t brought the drawings with her. She doubted Killian would believe it though.

“They’re just drawings of landscapes and different objects,” Emma shrugged. “None of them are dated or titled or anything. Well, except the one of you, Belle.”

Emma really didn’t like the way Killian looked at her. As if he could tell what was really going on in her head, why she was reluctant to show him the drawings.

“It wouldn’t hurt to have a little look? And if there’s no clue to be found, well, it’s good we’ve already got a plan for Willesby then, isn’t it?”

Emma had no way to argue with him. So she gave in, and hoped she was wrong about Killian.

(That small hope didn’t bring her much comfort though.)

Emma let Killian into her room at the inn, though she had debated letting him wait outside while she found the album. It seemed too childish though - even for her.

Killian sat in the armchair leafing through the drawings as Emma surveyed his expressions from the edge of the bed. He never stopped to look at one drawing for long. But there was a constant pensiveness in his eyes, lingering on the surface.

At one drawing, a small grin lit up on Killian’s face. He turned the album towards Emma, showing her the drawing. “Look familiar?”

The sextant with its pegasus on the surface wasn’t something Emma would soon forget.

Killian continued to look through the drawings, past the picture of Belle (“and here’s our resident bookworm”), but he didn’t seem to find any clues.

Until he stopped turning the pages.

Emma narrowed her eyes at him. Killian stared at the picture, then darted a look up at her before looking at the door. Then back at the drawing.

He had found something. Something curious.

“Wait just a minute, love.” And like that, he rose from his seat, putting the album on the nearby dresser and left through the door.

As if.

Emma stood up no more than a second after Killian. She darted a look at the drawing he had singled out before following him out the door and into his room.

Killian went to his satchel, searching its pockets for who-knows-what.

“What’s going on?” Emma asked from the doorway.

Killian pulled the thing he sought out of his satchel, turning towards Emma.

Another letter? she thought, looking at the envelope in his hand.

“I might have found our next clue.” He said no more. Like a man on a mission, he walked right past Emma, and back into her room.

“Are you planning on telling me what it is?” Emma asked, following him again.

Killian stood by the dresser, looking at the picture once more. He didn’t answer her; he seemed to be hesitating. But the doubt was quickly shoved away, and Killian all but ripped open the envelope.

Emma stepped closer to get a look at the paper he unfolded. Another drawing. Emma furrowed her brows and at once she understood why Killian had found the picture in the album curious.

The one he held in his hand was exactly the same. Or well, almost.

Both drawings showed the view from a terrace overlooking a city with mountains in the distance. Two grand staircases led to the terrace on each side of the drawing and two statues stood tall, framing the centre of the drawing. Emma thought of the architecture of ancient Rome, or even Greece with the three white columns in the drawing’s centre, at the foot of the staircase. Or well, in the drawing in the book, there were three columns.

There were four in Killian’s copy.

“Where’d you get that?”

Killian didn’t answer right away. As if he debated telling her the truth or not. When he spoke, Emma was certain he had chosen not to lie though.

“Liam sent it to me.”

“I... when?” The way Emma had understood it, Liam had never contacted Killian.

“Three years ago. On my 27th birthday.”

“Did he write anything with it?”

“Aye. It’s mainly gibberish about Neverland though. About how beautiful it is, but no one should ever go there. It’s how I know Barrie had the compass - he wrote it in the letter, in between various descriptions of how hauntingly beautiful Neverland is.”

Both of them looked at the drawings, going over every detail. They were almost perfect duplicates. Except for the different number of columns.

“So you think this is the clue we’re looking for?” Emma pointed at both drawings with each hand, at the spot where one drawing had a fourth column and the other didn’t.

“I reckon it’s our best bet.”

“Now we just gotta figure out where in the world this is.”

“I’m happy to surprise you there, Swan.” Killian met Emma’s questioning look with a ghost of a smile. “I’ve had this drawing for three years. Do you not think I’ve already riddled out where it’s from?”

He drew out the pause, trying to build the suspense. He only succeeded in building Emma’s annoyance.

“What, you looked at the post-stamp?”

“Alas no, the post-stamp’s from Norway, and this seems a mite too exotic for Norway... it’s Barcelona.”

“Barcelona?”

“Aye. Catalonia’s national museum of art to be precise - also known as the MNAC.” Killian’s small smile turned into a quirked eyebrow and a cocky grin. “What do you say, love - fancy taking this a bit further southward?”

Emma glared at him, unimpressed with the innuendo.

“I could definitely do with some warmer weather,” she answered. She looked at the drawings again, internally questioning how trustworthy a clue this was. “Do you think we’ll find him there? And it’ll turn out that Neverland is actually just the name of a bar or something?”

Killian chuckled. “I don’t know, Swan. Perhaps. Or perhaps all we’ll find is another breadcrumb.”

#csbb #cs ff #cs fanfic #my writings #when the tide turns #chapter 6 #This was the chapter that made me realize how complex a story I'd actually come up with #I remember struggling so much trying to make sure everything made sense and thinking it was hopeless...#thankfully my lovely beta forget-me-not-s encouraged me not to give up haha :D #and I'm so excited for the next chapters! Off to Barcelona we go!

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