#thirsty Emma Swan

[grtmnick]

Emma Swan was convinced that her girlfriend, Regina Mills, had extended an invitation to the famous Mills family Halloween costume ball out of either deviousness or spite.

For Emma, the event was a veritable minefield of potential social awkwardness, only with explosives of a decidedly different sort.

As the blonde's gaze scanned the ballroom, she suffered a heart palpation upon her noticing of the Mills ladies rather provocative choices in costumes.

But, backing out after already arriving was impossible.

Emma instead took a slow, deep, and determined breath, then girded her loins for the immense challenge before her.

(Image source unknown, but thanks to whomever first created ^^!)

#Mills family assets #thirsty Emma Swan #drabble #flash fiction #flash fanfic #flash fan fic #flash fic #fan art #fan edit #swanqueen #ouat fanart #ouatedit #swan queen #emma x regina #emma swan x regina mills #regina mills #the evil queen #zelena mills #the wicked witch of the west #cora mills #the queen of hearts

[whimsicallyenchantedrose]

Season 2 Rewatch Drabbles--2x09 The Queen of Hearts

Summary:  A series of 100-500 word drabbles to accompany my   rewatch of season 2 of Once Upon a Time as an attempt to finally jump   start the muse again.  There will be a drabble–either a deleted scene, a   “fix it” fic or a character musing for each episode of the season.    Focus will be on Emma, Henry, the Charmings and Killian–with an   emphasis on the very beginnings of Captain Swan’s epic love story, as   soon as a certain dashing pirate makes his appearance.  

Word Count: 1262

Other Chapters: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17) (17.5) (18) (19) (20) (21-22) (22)

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Note: I know, I know.  This installment is more than twice the word count I limited myself to in these drabbles (making this clearly not a drabble), but I couldn’t end it with that first scene.  I just couldn’t!  We needed a little hope and inspiration after all!

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Dried up. Dead. Useless. Much like you.

Emma slumped down the rocky wall of Rumplestiltskin’s cell and settled on the ground, dropping her head as the utter futility of their situation washed over her.

For several minutes after Cora and Hook had left the cave, her anger had fueled her, giving her the strength to use her sword to bang away at the bars of their prison, to use brute force to try to get them the hell out of here.

If nothing else, it had been a good outlet for her aggression.

The absolute son of a bitch!

He’d betrayed her, betrayed them all, stolen the heart out of a princess’s chest for the sole purpose of manipulating them.  Who did that?

You betrayed him first, a small voice in the back of her mind whispered.

It was that voice that made the fight go out of her entirely.  Maybe if she hadn’t betrayed him, he would have continued to help them.  Maybe it would be Cora in this cell instead of them. He’d already shown himself to be endlessly resourceful.  Who’s to say she hadn’t picked the wrong side?

Not that she had any illusions that he was anything more than an absolute blood-thirsty mercenary, who would stoop to absolutely anything to get what he wanted.  No, she was right to not trust him.

Where she messed up was in trusting herself.

Dried up. Dead. Useless. Much like you.

He was right; she was useless.  What good had she ever been?  Yeah, she was the “savior”, but this cell, the scroll Rumple had written, proved it wasn’t anything special about her.  She was the savior because Rumple had made her the savior.  Now that she’d broken the curse she was indeed useless.

And even a man she’d just met could see it.  The two of them understood each other, after all.

Dried up. Dead. Useless. Much like you.

The thing is…he hadn’t meant it; not really.  Her superpower had not only flipped on at that phrase but sounded as loud as a five-alarm fire warning.  He’d been lashing out, trying to hurt her.

Because of how badly you hurt him.

The guilt bumped the hopelessness out of the way to take center stage.

He may have been lying his (smoking hot) ass off when he compared her to the bean, but his insistence that he wouldn’t have left her at the top of the beanstalk?  Yeah, that had been entirely sincere.  He’d trusted her, believed in her, put his life on the line for her, and she’d betrayed him.

Because I knew he’d screw me over the first chance he got!

Her superpower flared to life again.  That was a load of crap and she knew it.  She’d betrayed him, because she sensed she could trust him.  She sensed he could become something to her, something big and important and all encompassing, and she couldn’t go there again.  

And because of her fear, they were in the mess they were in now.

Mary Margaret continued talking about hope and optimism, insisting they would find a way out and get home, but truth be told, Emma was beginning to wonder if they’d all be better off if they just left her here.

She was, after all, dried up, dead and useless.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Hey!”

Killian’s heart leapt at the sound of her voice, the relief overwhelming.

He was under no illusions that he was anything more than a villain.  He’d done what he had to do to preserve his chance at revenge, aye, but he’d done so at a price that turned his stomach.

He’d never forget the squelching sound that accompanied his removal of Aurora’s heart.  He’d killed before, of course.  Killed, injured, maimed, manipulated, all of it.

But he’d never ripped out a heart.

The bile rose in his throat just thinking of it, visions of Milah swimming before his eyes.  What had he become in his quest to avenge her?

Still, as uncomfortable as ripping out Aurora’s heart had been, it had been nothing to the look in Swan’s eyes when he’d compared her to the dried-out bean. It was such a stupid and preposterous lie that he was surprised he’d been able to deliver it with a straight face.

She was anything but useless.  She was extraordinary.  He could see that even through the pain of her betrayal.

How could he truly blame her for her actions?  Was she not protecting herself just as he was? She was desperate to get back to her son after all.

The guilt deepened at that.  Killian had already separated one boy from his mother, and the guilt of that had eaten away at both Milah and him every day of their lives together.  What manner of man was he to break up another family?

It had been enough that he had almost almost changed his mind, almost defied Cora.

But that would have been suicide.  And a suicide from which nothing useful could have come.

Given that, he’d tamped down his guilt and left with Cora, hoping beyond hope that Swan would find some way home, that her resourcefulness would get her out of that blasted cave.

And so, when the princess brigade had shown up on the scene, shooting the compass from Cora’s hand and rushing them like a troop of avenging angels, his most predominant emotion was relief.

Cora ordered him to get the compass, and he’d turned to comply, coming face to face with Emma Swan bearing down on him with her sword outstretched.

A blind man could have seen her lack of skill with the weapon.  He could have ended their “duel” before it even began, but he had no desire to defeat her, even less to do her bodily harm. His mind went to the bean he possessed.  Perhaps there was a way for the both of them to achieve their objectives.  Perhaps he could let her obtain her prize—could prove to her that he was wrong, so very bloody wrong, in the way he compared her to the bean.

Perhaps he could remind her just how special she was while at the same time retaining his ability to exact his revenge on his sworn enemy.

So, he’d toyed with her, remaining on the defensive (although he couldn’t resist a bit of blatant innuendo once he’d flipped her to her back.  The opportunity to see the surprise—and maybe even a bit of desire—in her eyes, too delicious to pass up).

In the end, back in possession of the compass, she’d dealt him a blow that knocked all sense from him.  He’d come to minutes later—just in time to watch in horror as Cora’s hand shot forward, plunging into Swan’s chest.  He’d been frozen in place, the shock and revulsion so pervasive he couldn’t move; couldn’t speak, couldn’t even cry out.

But then it had happened.  A burst of magic shot forth from Swan, blasting Cora back with such force that she was rendered unconscious.

He was right; she truly was remarkable.  Just like this bean that would soon be restored to its former glory, Emma Swan was back.

Far from dried up, dead and useless, Emma Swan was the best of them all.

                                                                                      Next Chapter-->

#once upon a time ff #once upon a time drabbles #rewatch drabbles #2x09 the queen of hearts #emma swan #killian jones #my fanfiction

[dhanilyman]

@xscottlandenbergx​

Years had passed, but here he was, standing in front of a mirror at his suite. He missed his former house already but he’d make sure he’d get that back eventually. While he was pulling up the zipper of his leather jacket, he looked at himself. “Don’t fuss now, we’re gonna have some fun! It’s like they organized a welcome back party for us, Scotty.  No one knows we’re here again, but that will soon change…” The vampire said lowly to his reflection as he lifted the mask up to his face, the bright blue eyes shining through the holes while he secured it at the back of his head.

“By the way, that sweet letter you wrote? I never sent it to her so she doesn’t know either. After all this time there should be a lot of fresh meat to enjoy anyway… Could still drain her though, so keep your cool in there, ok?” A grin spread on his lips as he adjusted the mask to sit perfectly on his face. It was time to enjoy being back, as that was one thing he was sure of, fun was to be had while ignoring the protests that were going on in his mind. A new beginning, a new start, but then again, no one could know for sure what would happen.

A look out the window was a little disappointing, people and especially slaves seemed so comfortable these days. Weird, but that could change, he was sure. After one last mirror check, he left the suite to head to the ball. Upon arriving he took his time to look around, take in the various scents around of which some were extremely familiar. Grabbing a glass of scotch from a tray that passed by and a glass of champagne to take with him, he moved among the crowd. “You look thirsty.” He said to whoever was standing near, holding out the champagne. The night had officially begun.

“Oh--” It took Dhani a moment to realize he was being spoken to. Daisy had gone off in the crowd looking for Cherry, knowing her younger cousin would be serving people and they hadn’t spotted her yet. They’d gone for a paired look, like they usually did and even had accidentally picked out the same masks. A foresty theme, of course. Dhani was dressed in a sage green suit, his claim collar just barely poking out about the shirt collar and had bleached his hair for the summer, something he’d been meaning to do for ages and had finally gotten up the nerve a few months back. Keeping it blond was a pain and a half. He was thinking of shaving his head again before the semester started again when someone had spoken to him.

“Sorry. I was-- Nevermind. Thanks, man. Nice suit.” Dhani took the glass, chuckling a little. It sure was a look that leather get up. More of a statement than his suit, maybe, but Dhani would never have been that bold. Except for Halloween if Daisy could convince him. Oh that might be an idea. Captain Hook and Emma Swan... he’d remember to tell Daisy about it later. The man didn’t look super familiar, but it was hard to tell in masks. And there had been an influx of new people who he’d barely gotten to meet, being so busy lately. He took a sip of champagne and held out a hand for the other to shake. A master, obviously, but this was a quick way of figuring out if he was a dick or not.

“I’m Dhani. Are you new?”

#xscottlandenbergx #thread 28 #keep your cool: scott #event: midsummer's eve

[ocenitram]

“ Here, Miss Swan, Drink this. Consider it a peace offering “ Regina handed Emma a sippy cup of apple juice. “ Now tell me how old you are, who I and Henry are, and what you’re doing in your pants instead of going potty?” Regina smirked.

"You really expect me to drink from a sippy cup? is this a peace offering or a prank?" Emma eyed the mayor and the cup although the blonde savor was feeling very thirsty oddly and she knew she could just remove the lid, but she chose not to, and she drank from it. For a second there Emma looked at her confused "Your my nana and henwy my uncky and I go poopy in my diapeys cause I a baby I dis many," she places a finger to show Regina how old she is.

[official-wayward-noctis]

Captain Swan Bingo - high school au, merpeople

Ocean's Beauty

Emma moves schools again and now is going to Storybrooke High School where the mysterious Killian Jones catches her attention.

Ao3 Link here

Emma knew Killian Jones was a mystery from the time he walked into Storybrooke high on her first day there. She transferred to the school and knew the crowds the moment she walked in. Regina was miss popular and everyone knew that. She also had a thing for Robin even if she wouldn’t admit it because in her mind he was too low for her. Emma was a threat though as soon as she came in. Emma figured she would just stay low and hang with Mary Maragret who pulled her into her little click as soon as she arrived. Ruby and Mary Maragret have been best friends since they were children. A long history together and it made sense. Emma just clicked in with them, but that led to Killian Jones who watched her ever move as if she was something he could feast on. Emma didn’t know what it was. She had gone from one bad boy in her old schools to the next and she knew it never ended well but Killian was caring. Unlike his crew, he would help people when no one was looking and he always stayed away from Mr. Gold, the old and grouchy teacher who taught Science. Ms. French was the only one who could get the old grouch to smile and she did it without even trying. Rumor was they were secretly dating. Killian though avoided the man when he could but currently they were stuck in Mr. Gold’s fifth period as Mr. Gold told them about fish. One of the idiots who was popular raised his hand.

“Yes, James,” Mr. Gold said.

“Do fish get thirsty?” James asked. His friend behind him snickered as David, James’s twin brother and Mary Maragret’s crush who hung with them sometimes, rolled his eyes and looked at Emma giving her the look saying ‘my brother, the idiot’. 

“James, I don’t know why you can’t take this class seriously like your brother but I would highly suggest asking question related to what we are talking about which is currently how fish swim underwater,” Mr. Gold said.

“He does have a point,” Killian said. Mr. Gold gave Killian the stare. “I mean do fish get thirsty is a honest question even if a dumb one. Obviously they would since they need to stay in water or they will die so water is what keeps them alive similar to humans. Which should have been a give away to the answer of the question.”

“Thank you for give a proper answer to your classmate’s idiotic question, now moving on,” Mr. Gold said. Emma looked at Killian who was quiet. She was even more curious about him now. After class, she figured she would find him and ask him but he was already gone and heading out the door. Emma decided to follow him and ran after him. She wanted to know more about the mysterious boy who was caring even if he wouldn’t admit it. Emma got closer and closer as she finally watched him go to the lake. He looked around to see if anyone was watching. Emma hid as she watched him walk in slowly to the water before he swam off. The glint of a tail showed itself as he was leaving. She was surprised by her discovery. Killian Jones wasn’t normal. He was a mermaid. It was something she knew she couldn’t tell anyone, least of all her foster mother. Emma went back and decided to confront her classmate tomorrow. 

~

Killian was leaning against the wall when Emma approached him. His crew departed quickly as Emma gave him a stare. 

“I know your secret,” Emma said.

“I know,” he said. She looked surprised. He let her find out his secret. “Miss. Swan, do you really think you are so slick that you can’t be found out quickly.”

“I was hoping to figure you out,” She said.

“I am not that easily figured out am I?” Killian asked. “Now why would I let you in on a big secret? Have you figured that part out, Miss. Swan?” Emma had not. She looked at him trying to figure him out still. He was a puzzle and she was lost on this one.

“Just another problem for me to figure out,” Emma told him. Killian chuckled. 

“What if I told you?” Killian suggested. Emma paused. She could have the answer now but she would rather get to the bottom of it on her own. She went to say as much when Killian kissed her. She was surprised and moved back and slapped him. Killian was surprised by the slap.

“You kissed me,” she said.

“Well that is what you do when you like someone,” Killian said.

“Not without telling them first that your intention was to kiss them,” Emma said.

“Humans are weird sometimes. If I was underwater I would have not been slapped like that,” Killian said. 

“Well you aren’t underwater,” Emma said. She was now annoyed with Killian. He looked down as if he was a hurt puppy.

“Sorry, my love. I guess I will learn more about the dating customs of this world before I ask you out,” Killian told her before leaving her there. She was about to chase him when Mary Maragret and Ruby found her and told her some exciting news about how David asked Mary Maragret out. Emma didn’t tell them about what happened between her and Killian. 

~

Emma ran into Killian outside of class the following day. He was holding flowers and chocolates. Emma took them but told him he had a long way to go before he was dating her.

“I can wait,” Killian said. Emma didn’t know if he was serious or not until he continued bringing her small gifts each day. Ruby, Mary Maragret, and now David, who joined their group once he started dating Mary Maragret, were all asking what the gifts were about. She just told them the basics. Killian liked her and now he wanted to date her. Emma figured Killian would stop but a month later he was still getting her gifts and her current foster family was curious about the gifts. Emma figured this had to stop so she was going to talk to Killian. She sat on the docks waiting for Killian to appear. Killian did as he swum up and smiled at her.

“Miss. Swan,” He said.

“I need you to stop with the gifts,” She said. 

“Will you go out with me?” Killian asked. She thought about it before agreeing that one date wouldn’t hurt. She went to stand up but her right leg was asleep and she stumbled and fell into the water. Killian swam to save her. Emma felt calm in the water as she closed her eyes. Killian dragged her back up so she was above the surface. She looked at him as his eyes looked at her. 

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“I am,” She said as she went to get out of the water. Killian helped her as she got onto the deck and shivered.

“You should go home,” Killian suggested. Emma nodded and told him goodbye. He waved before swimming off into the ocean. 

~

Emma sat at Granny’s waiting for Killian. He got there and apologized saying his brother kept him. Emma didn’t know Killian had a brother but apparently he had an older brother who was very overprotective. It let Emma and Killian’s world a bit now knowing he wasn’t the only merperson. Emma enjoyed talking to Killian. He was someone new from a different world and his opinions were strange but interesting.

“Mr. Gold dislikes merpeople more than other students. His son ran away when he was younger because his mother fell in love with a merman and then Mr. Gold supposedly killed her in front of him. Or that is the story. Neil was strange when he went to school with us. I was friends with him too,” Killian said.

“The last Neil I knew got into some trouble with the cops a few times,” Emma said.

“Most be the name,” Killian jokes. It was nice to see his smile. He didn’t often smile but around Emma he always did. 

“What happens when a human and a merperson fall in love?” Emma asked.

“Well it depends. Our society has rules and beliefs. But so does nature. If their first true kiss of love is on land, it doesn’t end well for the Merperson. If their first true kiss of love happens in the sea, it doesn’t end well for the human,” Killian said.

“I’m scared to ask what you mean by that,” Emma said. 

“It's a lot and it’s hard to explain without knowing about my culture and this is our first date and…” Killian was stumbling over words and Emma was concerned. 

“Pause for a second and breathe,” Emma suggested. He did and he looked at her.

“Can we talk about it later,” Killian asked. Emma nodded as she listened to Killian talk about the ocean. Emma liked to hear him talk about the ocean because he sounded so dedicated. She wishes she could see the ocean like he did. 

~

Emma sat on the docks after school. She was watching as Killian swam around. She was about to jump in the water but stopped. What if this was a trap to lure her a human into the water? Would it be dangerous for her to go in? She had been in the water with him before so why was she nervous now. 

“Emma,” Killian said. Emma decided to jump in feeling that risking it wouldn’t matter. She jumped in and swam around. She tried to catch up but Killian was too fast. She stopped and stayed in one spot as Killian came up from beside her and pulled her close.

“I think I’m falling for you,” Emma said.

“You shouldn’t,” he said.

“But I am,” Emma told him before kissing him. He kissed her back as she felt something swirling around her legs. She pulled away and looked down as Killian froze. She had a tail just like him. She held on to him as she tried to move the tail like legs but failed. 

“Emma,” he said. She looked at him as he calmly told her how to properly swim with a tail.

“So that was the dangerous thing?” Emma asked.

“It means you have to spend part of your day in the sea,” Killian said.

“Not like I have a whole lot outside the ocean,” Emma said. Killian looked at her confused. “I’m in foster care because my parents didn’t want me.”

“Well I want you in my life if you will have me, Miss. Swan,” Killian told her.

“I would enjoy that Mr. Jones,” Emma said before she kissed him again holding onto him in the ocean that led to many paths for them. Emma was starting to understand why Killian loved the ocean so much as she found how amazing the ocean could be that day.

#captain swan #killian jones #emma swan #high school au #merpeople

[emmasaviorswan]

How soundproof is the Sheriff's office and how sturdy is the desk?

"It's sturdy enough anon" 😉

#ouat roleplay #emma swan #emmaswan rp #anon ask answered #i had no idea what thirsty meant

[deckerstarblanche]

WIP Wednesday!

The LOOOONG second chapter of “Back in Neverland” will be here in the next day or two, but for now, please enjoy this sampling:

Tag list: @kmomof4 @stahlop @jrob64 @donteattheappleshook @elizabeethan @the-darkdragonfly @jonesfandomfanatic @teamhook @apiratewhopines @gingerchangeling @hollyethecurious @once-upon-a-pirate-ship @zaharadessert @k-leemac @cosette141 @motherkatereloyshipper @justanother-unluckysoul @sailtoafarawayland @dauntlesstribute @pirateprincessofpizza @pirateherokillian @onceratheart18 @ultraluckycatnd

They have to walk for almost an hour before finding a freshwater source, and as soon as Killian deems it safe to drink from a babbling brook that feeds into the nearby pond, Emma’s so hot and thirsty that she nearly sticks her head in the water with relief. She’d forgotten just how intense the humidity was on this island, and how the leafy canopy in the deeper parts of the jungle induced feelings of claustrophobia in her last time.

After she quenches her thirst, Emma finally has the chance to get a good look around. Now that she’s not racing through a hostile jungle to rescue her kidnapped son, she can appreciate the strange beauty of Neverland. The intricately tangled vines, arrays of brightly colored flowers, and dense green thickets seem to pop up everywhere they go. It’s within one of those thickets that they finally find a large patch of edible berries, and since their new food source is relatively close to the potable water, they agree to set up camp for the night.

“Are you sure we don’t have enough wood yet?” Emma groans from underneath the armload she’s carrying to the campsite. They’ve been gathering things — firewood, coconuts, and anything that looks like it will make sleeping on the ground a bit more comfy— for the past few hours, and she’s exhausted. After she dumps the wood into their growing pile, Emma dusts her hands off and sits on a nearby log, examining her jagged fingernails. “If there was one positive thing about having my parents and Regina around, it helped to have more people around to divide up tasks.”

Hoping to cheer her up, Killian shoots her a cheeky grin. “I think we’re doing quite nicely! If you’re looking for a diversion, the men on my crew liked to sing sea shanties to pass the time. I can always teach you a song or two.” Emma rolls her eyes in response, looking at him for the first time since she returned from the woods.

Her jaw nearly drops: since they’ve known each other, Emma has never seen Hook in anything less than his full pirate captain regalia. At the moment, he’s still wearing his black linen shirt with the ridiculous cuff ruffles, but it’s completely unbuttoned. She’s stripped down to a skimpy white tank top, but Killian never allows himself to be so exposed,

Before he notices her gawking, Emma takes a moment to admire his physique. He’s toned and lean muscled, but his shoulders and chest are much more defined than she’d expected. When she imagines how it would feel to grip those shoulders while he’s thrusting into her from above, her face goes bright red and she quickly turns away right before he looks up.

“Swan, get back to work! No more ogling the crew,” Killian teases, breaking into a huge, joyful laugh at her expense. She whips back around, pointing a finger at him as she sputters for words.

#wip wednesday #cs au #neverland new year #csnlny22 #captain swan

[the-darkdragonfly]

Blood in the Water and Into the Ocean, please!!!

Hello darling!!!

Blood in the Water (which is currently defeating my muse in a game of writers block)

Killian’s heart caught in his throat. They were home. They were safe. They were both grounded for at least twenty years. A yellow Volkswagen Beetle pulled up at the curb, lights shutting off with the engine, the movement of three people inside causing his blood to rush erratically through his veins. The door on the driver side opened and a woman slid out, glowing golden hair wrapped in a leather jacket- Killian Jones, I imagine?- in the pool of of the overhead street light. “Emma Swan, thank you for bringing my children home,” his voice sounded rough even to his ears, and her gaze softened incrementally as a smirk pulled at the side of her mouth. “Well, they’re shrewd negotiators, I’ll give them that.” Killian narrowed his eyes, knowing far too well the levels of mischief his two children could get into, and stepped to the side of the car, hand on the handle, stooping as the door opened, reviewing the nervous, still smiling faces of Henry and Alice Jones. “Out,” his voice was quiet, a subtle shake of adrenaline which had been roaring through his blood for the better half of the day, “now.” They scrambled, climbing over each other to escape the confines of the car that wasn’t his, and stood, wide eyes looking up at him- are we in trouble, Papa?- as the worry and fear which choked his heart started to recede. “Yes, you most certainly are. Inside, hop to it.”

Into the Ocean - A SilverHook (and blood thirsty Mutiny) Tale

The sea was closing in on him, sunlight all but snuffed out as the sliver of waning moon rose above him. They had come for him at nightfall, when the sun had crested against the horizon, meeting the water in a blaze of. The sound of feet on the hatch, the anger which stirred in the air had roused him. He had just enough time to conceal coins and small tokens, among them his brother’s ring and the hairpins- all he had left of her- into the deep pockets of his great coat. The satchel had been next, salted meat and two apples, the last of his stash, crammed into the faded leather bag. The latch had given way and with the raucous roar of the pack above his head ringing across the ship, Killian had had time to sling the satchel across his back to be hidden under his coat; his hook glinting in the dark as they poured down the ladder like ants. Red Sky at Night... Killian gritted his teeth, the blow from the butt of the dagger smarting his ribs as he hauled himself against the pull of the tide, a parting gift from the madness which had descended upon his crew. The island was still in front of him, looming out of the water like a large creature from the depths. Bloody cowards, he thought furiously as his feet kicked angrily, beating out a ferocious rhythm through the swell of the sea. He had felt suddenly so very small, insignificant and alone- aye aye, Captain- they had snarled in his face, whipped into a frenzy by a lone man, a snake of a human. Outnumbered and most certainly outmaneuvered, he had no recourse but to survive, again, and commit to memory the burning faces of the crew who were no longer his.

#Blood in the Water #Into the Ocean #captain swan #the darkdragonfly #killian jones #emma swan #emma x hook #once upon a time #emma x killian #so many wips

[justanother-unluckysoul]

Lost To The Shadows 3/5

Rating: T

Summary: When Liam Jones’ younger brother disappears at sea under mysterious circumstances, he enlists the help of Emma Swan to find him. What ensues is by far the weirdest case Emma has ever worked - and the most traumatic. Thankfully Killian Jones is good at surviving; and it’s just as well, because he’s going to get quite a few chances to prove it.

A/N: Thank you guys for all your lovely comments! (and for being so patient after I left you with such a mean cliffhanger last week lol) 

Thanks to the amazing @ultraluckycatnd​ for ensuring this fic made sense.

Read on AO3

Lost To The Shadows: Chapter 3

Don’t wait for me, Killian had said. He’d made her promise she wouldn’t wait. But when she clambers onto the boat, her muscles burning from exertion and barely able to breathe, she looks back and Killian is right there. She can see him struggling through the waves, close enough that she can see primal terror in his eyes as he fights against the pull of the sea and the pull of death. And God help her, Emma can’t make herself leave him to his fate.

“Killian!” she cries out over the sound of the storm, her hand outstretched to grab him, “You’re almost there, come on!” 

There’s a life preserver in the boat, Emma remembers suddenly, and she grabs for it quickly, panicked fingers slipping against the wet rope holding it in place. She gets it free, tossing it towards Killian, the end of the rope still latched securely to the boat. He’s flailing. Exhaustion is pulling him down but he manages to grab the ring, spluttering through the waves hitting his face. Emma reels him in and he thumps shoulder first against the boat, one hand weakly lifting to take hold of the railing. Emma tugs at his arm, trying to ignore the sounds he makes as she pulls him up, forcing his injured body to move just a little more.

“Killian, move,” she demands, fear giving her voice a sharp edge.

It seems to rouse him, and he digs into the last reserves of his strength, stumbling up alongside her onto the boat. His broken groan, dissolving into ragged coughs as he collapses onto the deck, makes Emma’s stomach lurch, but there’s no time to tend to him yet. She switches the boat on and roars away from the island. Away from Pan. She can’t help looking back over her shoulder, just in case. Killian lifts his head, his hair plastered flat by the driving rain and his swim through the waves, but he doesn’t try to stand up. 

“You hanging in there?” she asks, wishing she could leave the helm to go to him, but needing to get them further out to sea first. 

He nods but he seems content to stay right where he is, which can’t be a good sign. It feels like an age before the island fades out of sight and the storm fades with it, and Emma finally feels herself begin to relax. She cuts the engine and then the only noise is the soft lap of waves against the hull and Killian’s shallow breaths. Emma kneels beside him. A mixture of blood and seawater pools beneath him, and Emma knows that the salt must be agony on his open wounds. 

“Killian…”

“I’ll be alright,” he murmurs, clearly doing his best to reassure her.

“I’ve got a first aid kit in the cabin. Can you stand?”

Killian takes a second to answer that.

“I… I think so. I’m going to need some help though,” he admits, sounding ashamed.

Emma carefully slips her arm around him, supporting him as he struggles to his feet, leaning on her shoulder heavily. He’s upright, but his head droops and he lets out a miserable groan.

“Bloody hell,” he whimpers.

She can feel the shivers under his skin, cold and shock setting in. Emma coaxes him to the cabin, his legs seeming weak and uncoordinated as he attempts the few steps down. 

“Sit on the bed,” she instructs him, flicking on the light before heading into the galley to grab the first aid kit and a cup of water. 

And put on some pants.

Emma didn’t realize how thirsty she was until she was pouring the water for Killian, so she quickly drained the cup herself and refilled it for him. When she returns to the bedroom, Killian is sitting on the mattress as she’d directed, still clad only in his underwear, leant forward with a white knuckled grip on the edge of the bed. His breathing is ragged, a hitch with every sharp inhale, and Emma had suspected his ribs were broken - now that he’s under the light, she can see the colourful bruising across his torso that supports her theory. Honestly, she’s rather impressed that he’d been able to move at all in this condition, never mind all the running and swimming he’d been forced to do. Emma feels bad for yelling at him so much now.

Trying to keep her eyes above his waist, Emma hands him some tylenol and the cup, and doesn’t miss the way his hand shakes when he brings it to his lips. 

“I want to clean these wounds a bit, okay? Make sure nothing gets infected.”

“Okay,” he whispers. She can tell he’s nearly at the end of his strength and she needs to make this quick before he loses consciousness. 

It’s mainly bruising, not too many open wounds, and thankfully they all seem clear of infection. For now, she thinks. Emma cleans them and tapes them before wrapping a bandage around his ribcage to support the broken bones. By the time she’s finished, Killian is swaying slightly, his eyes barely open, breaths fast and shallow through his gritted teeth as he’d tried to stay quiet. Despite his best efforts, he hadn’t quite been able to hold back all the pained noises as Emma pressed a cloth against his broken skin. Each sound had lodged like knives between her ribs, tears pricking at her eyes, hating that she was causing him more pain. Thank God it’s over now.

“I’m all done. You can lie down.”

She tugs the blankets aside so Killian can get under them, his face twisting in discomfort as he tries to lie down without hurting himself further. 

“Thank you,” he says, his words quiet and slurred, “for helping me. For rescuing me.” He reaches up to place his hand against Emma’s cheek. “I’m sorry you got caught up in all this.”

She takes his hand into her own and squeezes gently, hoping her actions will convey what her words can not. She’s never been good with words.

“None of this was your fault, Killian. Just rest now, okay? We’ll be home before you know it.”

Killian mumbles something incoherent, but his eyes are already closed, his hand going limp in sleep and Emma gently lays it beside him before pulling the blankets up to his chest. She hadn’t realized how ill he looked until they’d got to the boat, pale and sickly, his injuries and exhaustion getting the better of him. Hopefully, the sleep and the tylenol will help. Though, looking at Killian’s slack face, anxiety begins to set in. They’re still probably 20 hours or so from making port. 

“Please be okay,” Emma murmurs, her fingers brushing wayward strands of hair back from his forehead. “I need you to be okay, Killian.”

He moans softly, his eyebrows pulled together, the pain unsettling him even in sleep, and Emma makes a shushing sound, I’m right here, waiting until he relaxes again before she moves away. 

She doesn’t want to leave him, fear for his wellbeing making her stomach twist. The adrenaline is wearing off now, and she can feel herself slipping into shock. She can’t believe this really happened. The island, and escaping from Pan, feels like a dream; one Emma wishes she could wake up from. Emma makes her way back to the helm on shaky legs, taking deep breaths of the sea air to calm herself. She can’t lose it now, not when she still has such a long way to go before Killian can get the medical attention he needs. 

Time begins to lose its meaning, reality reduced to the wheel beneath her hands and the instruments in front of her. It’s strange to be out in the daylight again, the sun having risen while she was below deck with Killian. How long had they spent traipsing through that jungle? It felt like a lifetime. Eventually, footsteps on the deck pull Emma from her tired musings. She turns to see Killian, still pale and unsteady as he braces himself against the wall, but he gifts her with a half smile. He’s managed to procure some sweatpants from somewhere, at least, though his top half is still bare.

“What are you doing up here?” Emma admonishes. “You should be resting.”

“I just wanted to feel the sun.” His voice is quiet, more than tiredness making it rough. Emma can’t blame him for wanting the sunlight after being trapped in the darkness of that cursed island for so long. Hell, she felt the same and she hadn’t been there nearly as long as he had. She can’t bring herself to insist he go back to bed, despite how exhausted he still looks. 

Emma puts the boat on autopilot for a moment so she can go below and grab a blanket and a couple of muesli bars. Once again, she hadn’t even realized how empty her stomach was until going to grab one for Killian. She gets Killian settled on the co-driver’s seat, wrapping the blanket around him and pushing the food into his hand, the still low sun streaming comfortably into the cockpit. Killian closes his eyes, basking in the warmth. 

“Thank you, love.”

Emma settles back at the helm, biting into her own muesli bar. She had more substantial food down in the galley, but for now this will do.

“What I wouldn’t give for a grilled cheese sandwich with some onion rings,” she mutters, the sudden craving for normality hitting her hard.

“That’s… an interesting meal choice.”

“It’s delicious,” Emma defends. “So, what about you? What’s your first meal of choice when we get back?” 

“Rum,” he says immediately, and she chokes on a laugh.

“How very pirate of you, but that’s hardly a meal so it doesn’t count.”

Killian smiles, and the mood between them suddenly feels like something more than it should be, and it’s so easy to slip into it, the feeling so right that Emma is taken aback. She quickly turns her attention back to the helm.

“We’re still a long way out,” she tells him.

Emma’s watch is working again now, but she doubts the time on it is accurate. Though with the watch now working, Emma wonders if the radio is too. Thank God, she thinks, when her distress signal is answered by a calm, reassuring voice. She gives the rescue team her coordinates and slumps back into her seat. 

“Well done, Emma,” Killian says with a weary smile.

“Yeah, don’t thank me yet.” She’s fidgety, unsettled. She won’t relax until they’re safe and sound back in the real world, where demon children and magical walls don’t exist. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m alright.”

“Okay. Let me know if you want to go lie down again, okay? I don’t want you to overexert yourself.”

Killian chuckles lightly, being careful of his ribs.

“Emma, sweetheart, look at me. I am sitting down wrapped in a blanket and sipping water. There is no chance I’m going to overexert myself by doing so.” 

Of course, he’s right. What is it about him that brings out Emma’s mother-hen side? She looks back out across the still expanse of the ocean, gentle waves making the boat bob slightly.

“Okay. Yeah. That’s… yeah.”

“Just a bit longer,” Killian says, “And then I’ll go lie down again, okay?”

Emma nods. She doesn’t like the feeling that she’s unnecessarily fussing over Killian, treating him like fragile glass, but she keeps replaying the moment Pan had tried to rip Killian apart and it makes her want to wrap him in bubble wrap and never let him step foot outside again. The terrible sounds of Killian’s agony echo in her mind once more and she shudders. She wonders if she’ll ever stop hearing it. Stop seeing the way he had struggled futilely against Pan’s invisible grip.

“Emma?”

“I’m okay.” 

“Are you sure? No, Emma, you’re shaking.” He moves as if to stand, and pain flashes across his face. Emma drops her hand to his shoulder quickly, holding him down.

“I’m okay,” she says. “Just a little cold.”

“I’d offer you my lap so we could share the blanket but… I don’t think I’m up to that right now.”

Emma wants to slap that suggestive smirk right off his handsome face. Or she wants to kiss it off him. But what Emma wants and what she does have always been two very different things, and so Emma goes below deck to grab her own blanket, settling into her seat in the sun and wishing she was home in her own comfortable bed.

“You don’t need to worry about me, Swan. I told you I’m a survivor,” Killian reminds her, though the tremor in his voice makes the assurance feel hollow.

Liam had said that too, commenting on Killian’s uncanny ability to survive. It feels like years ago she was standing in her office talking to Killian’s brother. Had that really been just a few days?

“So you’ve told me,” she says tiredly. 

 The rescue team arrives sooner than Emma had expected, and the proximity to strangers after so long with only Killian and a terrifying enemy makes her skin crawl. Killian grabs her hand as the medics board, sensing her distress.

“I’m with you, Emma,” he murmurs soothingly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Emma takes a steadying breath. She can handle this. 

“I’m fine,” she tells the strangers, “But Killian’s hurt.”

They immediately huddle around him, and Emma’s forced to release his hand to give them space to work, the tension radiating from Killian so thickly that Emma imagines she can physically feel it. His response to their questions is clipped, every part of him clearly screaming for space. Emma wishes she could help. But instead she’s relegated to the back of the boat, a medic asking her questions from so very far away. 

“Did you lose consciousness at all?” Emma blinks the world back into focus.

“What?”

“When you hit your head,” the medic clarifies patiently. “Did you black out?”

Emma shakes her head. 

“Any dizziness, nausea? Blurred or double vision?”

“No. I told you, I’m fine.”

The medic regards her distrustfully.

“Right. Well, I’m just going to check your pupils now, okay?”

The light makes her head throb anew, and she can’t help wincing, but the medic seems satisfied. They board the rescue boat, leaving a stranger to bring the hired boat back to port. Killian is crashing again, his steps rough, toes dragging against the floor as they assist him to a bed below deck.

“Do you want to sit with him?”

Emma is torn. On one hand she would love to sit with Killian. She’s scared and alone and she’s so on edge, she feels she can’t trust anyone. But the air is fresh and the sun is bright, and-

“No, I’m fine up here,” she says.

The medic nods.

 Killian refused to spend the whole time in bed, the way the medics had wanted, and instead he dragged himself back on deck after about an hour of feverish dozing. They had fussed and tried to order him back down, but he wasn’t having it.

“No. We’ve had enough of the bloody dark,” he had snapped, his eyes fiery and his jaw tight, daring anyone to challenge him. Nobody had. He’d sat stubbornly at Emma’s side in the sunlight, his fingers entwined firmly with hers.

You don’t need to protect me anymore, is what Emma should say. But she doesn’t. She craves his comfort, his protection. Killian’s presence at her side, with his hand wrapped warm and solid around her trembling fingers, makes what happened before feel farther away, and that’s all she wants right now. 

“You alright, Emma?” he murmurs, and she really should be asking him that. 

“Yeah.”

Eventually, exhaustion won out over her desire to remain in the light, and they’d both gone below deck to the beds. Emma had fallen asleep almost immediately, only to be woken by a nightmare, opening her eyes to darkness. Panic surges up her throat and the scream catches there with it. Had Pan somehow caught up to them? Had he brought them back? Had she never escaped at all? 

“Swan,” a hoarse voice says, familiar though it cracked over her name. “You’re alright, love. I’ll get the light.”

A soft click sounds and the room is flooded with light. Blinking in the harsh brightness, Emma tried to calm her racing heart. She was still on the rescue boat, sitting up in bed, the blankets tossed aside. Killian moves to sit on the bed beside her, slowly, his hand cautiously lifting to rub her back.

“I’m here, love. We’re safe. Just breathe for me, okay?”

Emma takes a deep breath and leans into Killian, accepting his comfort. She probably shouldn’t, but she feels safe with him for reasons she can’t fathom, tucking into his chest as her body slowly catches up with the knowledge that she’s not on the island anymore.

“Yeah,” she mumbles. “Sorry. Nightmare.”

“So I gathered.”

“Sorry if I woke you.”

He shakes his head.

“You didn’t.”

“Did you… did you get much sleep?”

She pulls back so she can look at him, at the dark circles under his eyes, and thinks she can guess the answer. His fever may have broken, and the stronger painkillers the medics gave him have worked their magic, but like Emma, he’s still far from okay. She doesn’t want to think like that.

“Some,” Killian says. Not nearly enough, Emma hears. “We’re still quite a way out from port. You should try to get some more sleep, love.”

“Only if you try to sleep too.”

He chuckles quietly, and she’s pretty certain she did not just imagine the softest press of his lips against her head.

“You drive a hard bargain, Emma, but alright.”

Emma has a ridiculous thought that she wishes the bed were wider. She’d sleep better if Killian could lie next to her, holding her protectively in his arms, and he probably would sleep better as well. But he stands up and moves back to his own bed, of course. Emma misses him immediately, though in reality, he’s not far away. Damn these narrow beds.

“Can we keep the light on?” she asks.

“Okay.”

She lies down on her side so she can keep Killian in sight as he too lies down, grimacing slightly, a soft grunt of pain escaping him as he stretches out on the mattress. It appeared the medication wasn’t quite strong enough to completely dull the pain of his many injuries, especially if he tried to move too much. Emma feels a pang of guilt that her nightmare had gotten him out of bed in the first place.

“I’m alright, love,” Killian assures her, catching her staring and quickly hiding the discomfort from his expression. “Just a little twinge.”

Emma manages to doze for a little longer, but every time her eyes open, Killian is still wide awake.

 When they reach the port at dawn, an ambulance is waiting. Killian pulls away when the paramedics reach out to assist him onto the dock, growling defensively, don't bloody touch me as he recoils from their hands, already pushed so far beyond the end of his tolerance. Emma gently takes his arm, murmurs reassurance, and feels him relax a little.

“I’ve got him,” she says, waving the paramedics away. 

“Killian!” Liam’s voice carries over the docks.

Killian turns immediately, tugs his arm free of Emma’s grip as he falls into his brother’s embrace.

“Oh God, Killian,” Liam murmurs, holding tight. “I thought I’d lost you.”

“Liam…”

Killian’s shoulders begin to shake as he buries his face in his brother’s shoulder. Emma turns away, feeling like an intruder. The paramedic talks to her, asks her if she’s hurt anywhere, and at least that distracts her from the emotional reunion behind her. She’s not hurt, she’s just exhausted. She wants to go home and sleep for a month. 

“I want to take you both to the hospital, just in case,” the paramedic, Mike, says, and Emma agrees on autopilot.

She knows Killian needs to go anyway, and she wants to stay with him. Although he has Liam now, she sees Killian’s gaze searching for her when they let each other go, his shoulders relaxing further when he sees her. Liam hovers, coaxing Killian onto the waiting gurney. Killian allows himself to be manhandled by his brother. 

“Emma,” Killian says, suddenly, reaching for her, “I want you to ride with us.”

She nods, feeling numb and drained as she steps into the back of the ambulance, hardly noticing Liam’s glances in her direction. Killian smiles reassuringly at her, reaching out to grab her hand and the world rights itself once more.

“You did it, Swan,” he says. “You got me back.”

Then his eyelids flutter, his hand falling limply at his side. Emma’s stomach drops. She can’t seem to make herself move.

“Killian?” Liam barks, patting his brother’s cheek roughly.

Killian groans, rolling his head to the side and smacking Liam’s hand away.

“Bloody hell, Liam. I’m not passing out, I just want some sleep.”

Liam has the good sense to look sheepish.

“Well.” He clears his throat uncomfortably. “You’ll forgive me for being concerned. You look terrible.”

Killian laughs, and then groans when that hurts his ribs. Emma takes his hand again and gives it a squeeze, relieved when he smiles at her again.

“I’ll be alright,” he assures them both. “I’m a survivor, you know that.”

Killian had said that many times during their ordeal, the phrase repeated over and over, almost like a mantra. She wonders if it’s a source of comfort for him.

TBC

TAG LIST:  @teamhook​ - @klynn-stormz​ - @xarandomdreamx​ - @zaharadessert​ - @kmomof4​ - @therooksshiningknight​ - @batana54​ - @ultraluckycatnd​ - @anothersworld​ - @tiganasummertree​ - @jonesfandomfanatic​ - @the-darkdragonfly​ - @jrob64​ - @hollyethecurious​ - @lfh1226-linda - @elizabeethan​ - @moviequeen51​ - @onceratheart18​

#cs ff #cs fic #captain swan #whump #but it's getting better #i promise #lost to the shadows #my fanfics

[hollyethecurious]

CS AU: #TeamRatKing

Summary: When The Storybrooke Ballet Company once again performs its traditional holiday offering of The Nutcracker: Reimagined, there is a new principal dancer causing quite a stir. Well, not so much him, as a fansite dedicated to him. #TeamRatKing thinks Killian Jones is the cat’s meow. Question is... what do his fellow cast and crew mates think?

A/N: This is all @kmomof4 ‘s fault. She texted me and @winterbaby89 the other day with a message that simply said Nutcracker AU, and after some brainstorming together, this happened. 

Huge liberties with the classical ballet have been taken. In fact, for the purposes of this fic, I pretty much changed the entire thing. A brief recap of those changes can be found within the structure of the story, but basically I changed the role of the Mouse King in order to create something of a love triangle between him, Clara, and the Nutcracker. If you are a Nutcracker aficionado, then I beg your indulgence. The ballet itself doesn’t actually feature too much in the overall scheme of things anyway.

Rated T+ /M for language and some thirsty website comments / ~4k / available on ao3

~/~

The entire cast gathered on stage for their final notes, all of them tired, sweaty, and still trying to catch their breath from the dress rehearsal. A new production of The Nutcracker: Reimagined (a reworked and modernized telling of the classic ballet) was set to open the next night, a tradition the Storybrooke Ballet Company had upheld for the past five years, ever since it had received rave reviews by its patrons, featuring the same cast within the same roles each year… until this one.

This year, the company had welcomed a new principal dancer. An up and coming darling who had been brought in to replace a dancer who had sustained an injury and just happened to be the injured company member’s little brother. Though Killian Jones would tell you, with a cheeky twitch of his brows, the moniker wasn’t entirely correct, and therefore preferred younger brother.

Gregarious and flirtatious, Killian seemed to get along with just about everyone. The backstage talent and crew appreciated the respect and interest he gave to each of their roles, while male and female chorus members alike fawned over the handsome and gifted dancer between rehearsals. He had been just what the company had needed, infusing a fresh rush of energy and excitement within the cast, and bringing a new take on the role passed down to him from his brother, who had played The Mouse King - a role that had been tweaked and expanded upon from its original concept, no longer taking the nightmarish form of Clara’s brother, Fritz, but instead embodying the rakish suitor this production’s older Clara was being forced to marry, making him a more enticing character for both the audience and the leading lady within the fantasy of the second act, where he attempted to woo her away from her noble Nutcracker until he ultimately met his demise in the great battle that now happened at the end of the piece - since SBC had debuted the ballet.

There were a few, however, that didn’t seem too thrilled or impressed by the brash new talent; principal leading man, Neal Cassidy, was at the top of that list. Neal had been the company’s male headliner, paired with their prima ballerina, Emma Swan, in every main role of every ballet the company had performed. When he’d heard the news of Liam Jones’ retirement and the hiring of the man’s younger brother, Neal had insisted the roles for this year’s production be cast before their newest member arrived, ensuring he received the title role for the fifth year in a row. After Killian arrived, Neal’s insecurities over his position within the company only increased, as did his very vocal and thinly veiled disdain for the man.

His first point of contention? The fact that Killian did not manscape, preferring to leave his chest as God intended it, as Killian had put it when Neal had attempted to shame him during the first rehearsal. Since then, Neal had taken to calling him The Rat King, even going so far as to “mistakenly” refer to his role as such in an interview he’d given to The Storybrooke Mirror.

Neal’s second grievance was the way the man seemed to have his sights set on his leading lady. Emma Swan had once again been cast as Clara, but the consensus among the cast, the crew, the choreographer, and the director was that Clara had more chemistry with the The Mouse King than she did with her Nutcracker. A bone of contention that was once again being noted before the entire assembly.

“Killian,” their director, Regina Mills, began with an exasperated tone. “Let me remind you, again, that you are the villain of this piece. The audience should not be rooting for you to get the girl, so I need you to dial back the charm.”

“Would that I could,” Killian replied with false lament, earning him a smattering of stifled laughs. “Besides, would it be so bad if The Rat King got the girl? After all, doesn’t everyone love a charming bad boy?”

Regina sighed, and corrected. “Mouse King.”

“Right,” Killian responded with a wide grin. “My mistake.”

The entire company knew Neal had called Killian The Rat King as a dig, but Killian wasn’t about to give the man the satisfaction of being riled over it. Ever since the interview had run, he had embraced it, applying the new moniker to himself whenever he could just to needle the man. And if his teasing quips allowed him to throw a flirtatious wink or suggestive look to the stunning, blonde, head ballerina beauty who seemed otherwise immune to said charms, despite the way they practically set the stage on fire whenever they danced together, well, that was simply a bonus.

Killian understood the contentious welcome he’d received from Neal. He might be new to the SBC, but he’d been around the ballet world long enough to know how territorial principal dancers could be of their perceived turf. He had expected the posturing and the pissing contests with the other male lead, but it was the cool reception he’d received from the company’s leading lady that had left Killian reeling. And absolutely, thoroughly, unabashedly besotted as well.

Emma Swan was brilliant. Her talent, her wit, her drive, her kindness; all made her a bloody marvel in Killian’s estimations, but no amount of charm or attempts to create a bond between them off stage had been able to garner him the same result he experienced with her under the bright lights of the theatre.

A fact Neal reveled in and took every opportunity to goad Killian over.

“You’re wasting your time pursuing Emma,” Neal commented smuggly after Killian had again failed in his attempt to get Swan to join him for drinks after their opening night. “She’s a tough nut to crack.”

Killian adjusted the strap of the bag he’d swung over his chest, and cast a bored, slightly challenging, look Cassidy’s way. “Perhaps she simply doesn’t have the right Nutcracker.”

Neal’s demeanor darkened and he took a menacing step forward. “Are you suggesting you’d make a better Nutcracker than me?”

“Not me, mate,” Killian responded with a wide grin spreading over his face. “But there’s a few commenters on a website my brother discovered tonight that seem to think so.”

“What website?”

Killian just shrugged and made his way towards the stage door, where a a gaggle of squealing girls were waiting for him, all sporting shirts that read #TeamRatKing.

~/~

“There were about a dozen more patrons wearing those #TeamRatKing shirts tonight than there were last night,” Liam announced when he entered Killian and Neal’s dressing room after the third performance. After officially retiring from the company, Liam had taken a position within the back offices and served as head usher during the performances. Part of his job was to keep tabs on the company’s online presence, so when a mysterious fansite called #TeamRatKing had popped up prior to their opening night, he’d been the first to see it and report back to the company.

The site hosted the hashtag logo with a link back to the ballet company’s The Nutcracker: Reimagined page as well as a link to Neal’s interview with The Mirror, giving the title its context. It’s purpose seemed to be philanthropic in nature, offering t-shirts and other merchandise with the #TeamRatKing branding, with proceeds benefiting local foster kids, a charity that was very near and dear to Killian’s heart, ensuring they’d receive a special gift from Santa this holiday season. However, it was the flood of hundreds, quickly becoming thousands, of comments which championed, fangirled, and in some cases, thirsted over Killian that really had his fellow cast and crew mates talking.

Each day Killian would arrive for his call time, braced for the good-natured ribbing he was about to receive regarding the newest comments, with several more of the theatre’s staff sporting #TeamRatKing shirts, sipping from a site branded water bottle, while they warmed up. The razzing was always meant in jest. His castmates knew he had taken the choreographer and director’s notes to heart, and had pulled back the charm as to not upstage the other dancers, and that it wasn’t his fault that the website had taken off the way it had. None of them even knew who had created it, although Killian did have his theories.

The only person who didn’t seem to take the website and the firestorm it had created in stride was Neal. His were also the only remarks Killian, and others, took as barbs. Though everyone had remained professional, refusing to take the man’s bait.

That was until Friday evening, just after call time, when Neal came swaggering in and outed August for his “anonymous” comment, newly posted to the site that Killian hadn’t even seen yet.

August’s face turned bright red and his entire body stiffened in mortification as company members pulled out their phones to see what comment Neal was referring to. Killian heard a mixture of snickers, gasps, and shocked snorts while he waited for the site to load, and he had to school his own stunned response when he caught sight of the thirst thread August had allegedly commented on.

GotNoStrings69 says: What I wouldn’t give to take a crack at those nuts… ;o)

“Don’t even try and deny it,” Neal kept on taunting. “We all know that’s your handle.”

It was clear to all watching, and everyone was watching, that what August wanted more than anything in that moment was for the stage floor to open up and swallow him whole. All Killian wanted was to take Neal out back and give him a sound thrashing for being such a colossal ass. He felt the piercing, anticipatory gaze of all those around him, especially the vivid green ones that were flashing with their own protective anger as her best friend faced potential ridicule. As much for her sake as August’s, Killian leaned over and gave the man a sultry grin, intent on diffusing the pall Neal had cast.

“Honestly, mate, I’m flattered,” he purred with a deep timbre. “Unfortunately… devilishly handsome as you are, you’re simply not my type.” He placed a comforting hand on the man’s shoulder, which was beginning to relax under Killian’s supportive weight, then turned his seductive sights to the feisty blonde on August’s other side. “I much prefer blondes.” He threw Swan a cheeky wink which managed to achieve his end goal, earning him an eye roll as she fought to suppress a smile before gathering her things and exiting the stage.

“I’m wearing you down, love, I can feel it,” Killian called out after her, causing a cascade of laughter and wolf whistles to break through the nervous tension.

Collecting his own things, Killian helped August to his feet when Neal barreled over, not having satisfied his douchery quota for the day, it seemed.

“I told you before, you’re wasting your time with Emma,” Neal declared, haughtily. “She doesn’t date company members, otherwise… she’d already be taken.”

He left the taunt hanging as he pushed past, slamming Killian’s shoulder with his own. Killian’s jaw clenched, sending the muscle above jumping as it flickered with irritation, until August informed him, loud enough for anyone still in earshot to hear, “That’s a policy she only started implementing after Neal asked her out the first time.”

August’s snark had Killian wondering, and not for the first time, if he was the one behind the website. He knew the man had experience with website development, and he certainly held no loyalty towards Cassidy. Not that Killian blamed him. He’d witnessed early on how the man belittled and demeaned anyone he felt was beneath him, and knew it was only the deep pockets of Cassidy’s father, one of the theatre’s most generous patrons, that had likely kept him in his principal role for so long.

~/~

Though it hadn’t been the first of its kind to appear on the #TeamRatKing website, August’s salacious comment had opened a flood gate of thirsty, sometimes borderline pornographic, comments about Killian Jones and his various… assets. Why Neal insisted on hate reading them all, he’d never know. It was like watching a train wreck happen while you were on the train.

Killian Jones could suffocate me with those thighs of his, and I would thank him for it.

Is there an application process to become The Rat King’s Brat Queen? If so, sign me the fuck up!

He can sugar my fairy plum any time he likes!

How does he dance so perfectly with that big head? … and no, I’m talking about the costume one ;)

Neal stood in the corridor outside his dressing room, scrolling through the feed, and muttered, “His dance belt is not substantially bigger than mine,” only to have Robin, the company’s costumer, quip out, “Well, actually…” as he passed by.

“Fuck off, Locksley,” Neal groused, noticing the shirt the crewman wore and nearly crushing his cell phone within his tightening grip.

If he had to see one more of those shirts he was going to lose it. It was bad enough that nearly every member of the company and theatre staff were now sporting them, but every night he had to perform with the hashtag radiating at him from the audience. Whose bright idea had it been to offer the shirt with a glow in the dark option? Last night he’d nearly fallen over in the middle of his first sequence when he caught sight of the entire orchestra pit decked out in the obnoxious shirt, conspiring to distract him during his performance.

At least Emma hadn’t given in to the hype, Neal comforted himself. Because that’s all this was. Hype. The newness would wear off, and the man’s irritatingly brash nature would tarnish. Others would see Killian Jones for the flash in the pan that he was, and everything would go back to normal. Including his relationship with Emma.

She was his leading lady. His pas de deux partner. They might not be an official couple, but before the littler Jones had shown up, all their fans had shipped them. It used to be #nemma trending on the ballet’s Twitter page, and Neal was convinced it would again as soon as #TeamRatKing and #KingSwan had run its course. People would start pairing Emma with him again, and maybe this time she would finally see reason, get off her high horse, and admit she belonged with him.

~/~

Killian’s assertion days before were proving themselves true before his eyes. He was wearing Emma Swan down.

Some of the chorus ladies affectionately called her Princess Prickley, but only because she was a perfectionist and could get tunnel-vision focused when preparing for and executing a role. Now that they were nearly finished with their performances, Killian had noticed a change in Swan’s demeanor, especially towards him. Whether it was because muscle memory was in full swing during her dances, the holiday season was finally starting to cast its merry spell over her, or because he had stood up for August in front of the entire company, Killian couldn’t say. All he knew was he’d been on the receiving end of more smiles and less eye rolls, and would bet his entire show wages on the fact he caught her staring at his arse when he’d bent over to talk to some of the children who had come for a special performance of the ballet.

“So, any big plans or family traditions for next week, love?” Killian asked as they made their way out of the theatre together.

“Nope,” she answered with a soft pop of the p. “I’ll probably end up crashing at David and Mary Margaret’s Christma Eve and watch Leo open his gifts the next morning. You?”

“Liam and I have a few traditions we try and keep up from our childhood,” he told her, shuffling his feet in the light dusting of snow that had fallen that afternoon. “Won’t your parents miss you at Christmas?”

“I, uh… I don’t have any parents.”

Killian’s stomach dropped. Taking in the woman before him, he cursed himself for not recognizing it earlier. That look. The one he and Liam had before Nemo had taken them in, looking after them until Liam had come of age and was able to care for Killian himself. Although, Nemo had always been a fixture in their lives even after they’d left his home.

“I’m so sorry, Swan,” he said, earnestly. “I should have realized. I too know what it’s like to be left on your own. And even though I have my brother, I know how difficult the holidays can be for us orphans.”

“I know,” she said, quietly, blinking away the hurt he had unintentionally caused by opening up old wounds. “Liam’s told me a little about you guys’ upbringing over the years.”

Killian wanted to reach out and gather her in his arms, to pull her in close without the pretext of performance guiding his actions, but before he could give in to the impulse, Emma stepped back and opened the door of her car.

“We should go,” she stated in a strained tone. “We only have a few hours before we have to be back for tonight’s show.”

“Aye,” he reciprocated, holding the door open for her as she climbed in and got situated. “I’ll see you tonight, love.”

Watching her drive off in that garish contraption she called a vehicle, Killian hoped he hadn’t just ruined the rapport he was finally starting to build with the woman he would very much like to call his Swan, this, and every other Christmas here after.

~/~

As was his custom, Killian pulled up the #TeamRatKing website as he waited backstage in his dressing room. Neal had made himself scarce after Liam had come through, crowing that nearly every member of the audience was adorned in the black and white branded t-shirt for the closing night performance. A flurry of excitement swept the halls, not only because it was the final performance, but because the website creator had posted two astounding announcements.

The first was the final tally raised to benefit the local foster children, a staggering amount Killian could scarcely believe. The second, a promise that they would be in attendance for tonight’s performance, and would identify themselves by wearing a custom version of the t-shirt; Christmas red with a bright green logo.

The wings were twittering with performers all trying to spot the red out of a sea of black before curtain went up as Killian made his way through the throng. While he was also eager to know who had been behind the website so he could thank them for their support and generosity, his focus tonight - the last before the company would go their separate ways before rehearsals began for the next season - was on making sure Emma knew how serious he was in his intentions towards her.

She called out for him to enter after he gave a gentle knock to her door, and was then nearly barreled over by the stage manager who reminded them they only had five minutes to curtain.

“Thank you, five,” they both murmured in conditioned response, and suddenly Killian’s mouth went dry.

“Killian?” Emma prompted. “Did you need something?”

Shaking himself, Killian cleared his throat and could feel the seconds ticking away with each thud of his pulse. “Yeah, I, uh… I wanted to let you know if plans with David and Mary Margaret fall through, you would be more than welcome to join Liam and me at Granny’s for Christmas dinner.”

“Granny’s? Isn’t that the diner a few blocks over?”

“Aye, she, uh… she hosts a lost souls dinner every year. For those who can’t get home or have no home to go to, and I thought… I hoped. You might want to come. With me.”

Her brows furrowed and she cocked her head to one side while she chewed her bottom lip in consideration. “Like a date?”

“Aye,” he exhaled. “Like a date.” Something in her eyes emboldened him to step forward and take her hand in his. Rubbing the back of it with his thumb he asked, “Emma Swan, would you have Christmas dinner with me?”

Her mouth fell open, but no words were forthcoming. Killian was beginning to think he’d just made an absolute fool of himself when the stage manager returned, shouting places and practically dragging Killian out of the room so Emma could take her mark.

~/~

Difficult as it was, Killian put the catastrophe of his bungled invitation out of his mind and kept his focus on giving the audience their money’s worth. They weren’t but a few songs into the suite when the charged atmosphere took hold, and everything except the story they had to tell fell away. By the end of the ballet, Killian was exhilarated. Practically vibrating with adrenaline, he lined up to take his curtain call, and was met with thunderous applause. A cacophony of congratulatory appreciation that only ratcheted up further when he removed the mouse head he wore as part of his costume, causing the corners of his eyes to crinkle and the dimple at his cheek to deepen before he moved aside and made way for Neal to take his bow.

Which was met with far less fanfare. Not that such a reaction was new. Neal had faced a lackluster response from the audience for a growing number of performances, souring the man to the point of grumbling about standing ovations and how tacky they were.

Well, if he thought the crowd’s response to Killian was tacky, then he must have considered the roar they gave at Emma’s appearance obscene. It took Killian a moment to register why the audience reacted as they did, beyond the brilliance of her performance, but when she finally stepped out from the line of the company, Killian’s jaw dropped.

Pulled over the top of her costume she wore a bright red t-shirt, and though Killian couldn’t see the front until after she’d taken her bow, he didn’t need for her to make her way towards him to know what it said.

Wait… she was making her ways towards him?

Before he could say anything Emma grabbed the lapels of his costume and yanked him forward, molding her lips to his. The theatre damn near erupted, the explosive reaction of the audience and their fellow castmates vibrating up his legs from the stage floor and deafening him with their cheers. None of it really registered to him, though. The only thing that held any significance to him in that moment was the hot slide of Emma’s mouth over his as she melted against him when his arms snaked their way around her body.

All too soon they had to come up for air. Dazed, Killian panted, “It was you? You created the website?”

Coyly, she flicked her gaze up to his, and a mischievous smile spread across her kiss swollen lips. “What can I say? I always thought mice and rats were kinda cute.”

“Cute?” Killian scoffed with mocked offense. “I prefer dashing, darling.”

“That, too,” she giggled, brushing her lips against his one last time before taking her place within the line so they could give their company bow (which had found itself one member short after Neal had stomped off stage in a huff).

After waving to the crowd, Killian rushed to her side as the curtain closed and wrapped his arms around her once more. “Does this mean you accept my offer of partaking Christmas dinner with me?”

Emma ran her hands up his chest, and replied, “Only if you’ll agree to help me deliver gifts to the foster kids the day before that.”

Nuzzling the tip of her nose with his, Killian said, “It would be my pleasure, love.”

“Oh, no,” she purred, pulling him for another kiss. “That part comes later.”

Tagging the Curious Crew:

@kmomof4 @sals86 @jennjenn615 @darkcolinodonorgasm @artistic-writer @courtorderedcake @winterbaby89 @snowbellewells @heavenlyjoycastle @sunshine2632 @stahlop @resident-of-storybrooke @kday426 @cocohook38 @unworried-corsair @aprilqueen84 @tiganasummertree @ilovemesomekillianjones @ultraluckycatnd @wyntereyez @ultimiflos @superchocovian @qualitycoffeethings @facesiousbutton82 @theonceoverthinker @sherlockianwhovian @lillpon @shardminds @skystar87 @teamhook @itsfabianadocarmo @xarandomdreamx @therealstartraveller776 @queen-serena88 @donteattheappleshook @jrob64 @therooksshiningknight @angellifedeath @karl0ta @melly326  @nadine200179 @xsajx ​ @demisexualemmaswan ​ @lfh1226-linda @alexa-fangirl-forever @klynn-stormz ​ @onceratheart18 ​ @monosalvatore16 ​ @eddisfargo ​

#cs ff #csff #cs fic #cs au #captain swan #cs ballet au #TeamRatKing #words by hollye

[sailtoafarawayland]

The Chicken Debacle

Summary:  There’s nothing Emma loves more than watching her husband work up a sweat, but being right certainly comes in a close second. In which a hot day, a flock of fowl, and a naughty Emma work together to make good use of some patio furniture. 

Rating: Explicit 

Tags: Humor, Pregnant Emma, Pregnant Sex  

Many thanks to all of my lovelies over on the discord - a truly inspiring bunch who prompted my muse to take what was a rather frustrating real life situation and turn it into something a bit more fun, and a bit more naughty.  

AO3 - FF

The Chicken Debacle

“You're not going to help?” Killian asked, eyebrows darting up in surprise as he swept his arm across the backyard, gesturing toward the small flock of chickens currently digging through the garden and flower beds.

Emma caught the edge of her bottom lip between her teeth, her cheeks warming as she bit back a smile.

“Nope, sorry, babe,” she shrugged, running her hands down the large swell of her stomach, “I probably shouldn't be chasing chickens seven months pregnant. Besides, I'm not the one who forgot to shut the latch on the gate.”

His eyes narrowing at her accusation, Killian looked as if he were about to argue, but finally sighed and started toward the closest chicken, the heavyset, yellow fowl bobbing her head suspiciously as he drew near, her feathers ruffling as she shook herself and pecked viciously at the ground – readying herself for a fight, Killian imagined.

“I'll keep you company though,” Emma called out, grabbing her iced tea and laying back on the lounger – smothering a laugh behind her hand as her husband leaped toward the chicken only to have it kick up a cloud of mulch in his face and dart between his legs, making for the nearest bush.

“I'm very grateful indeed,” her husband quipped as he turned and reevaluated the situation, casting his eyes around the yard to see if there was anything he could use to ensnare the unsuspecting birds. “Enjoying your iced tea, Swan?”

“Yup, delicious,” she purred, enjoying the way the hot sun was glancing off the sheen on his chest, the summer hot enough that even the smallest amount of activity outside was enough to make them both sweat. “Perfect for a hot day – oh, our little one just kicked!”

A look of genuine contentment washed over Emma's face as she rested her free hand on her belly, her hair falling to frame her cheeks as she whispered something he couldn't hear to the child growing within her – and just like that the frustration fell from his shoulders, replaced with a love so deep he wouldn't begrudge his beautiful wife anything, not even the opportunity to hold something as trivial as the chicken gate over his head, but...that didn't mean he couldn't make his Swan work up a sweat of her own while doing it.

Emma had just looked up from the gently undulating swell of her belly when she saw Killian standing in the middle of their yard, his fingers folded around the edge of his shirt as he lifted the hem up and over his body, his abs and pectorals flexing as he tossed it to the ground nearby, shoulders rolling as he stretched and eyed the closest chicken with a determination Emma recognized immediately– those poor birds were in for it.

She watched as he lunged forward, his sneakers shifting in the grass as he chased the chicken toward a corner of the fencing, just managing to snatch it by the leg before carefully folding its wings in and lowering her over the fence back into the run, the only sign of a bruised ego some few ruffled feathers.

He rounded on the next bird, a smaller one that Emma liked to call Cinnamon – although they were pretty sure she'd never laid, and were somewhat concerned she didn't seem to know she was a chicken at all, preferring to spend her time stubbornly following around the chipmunks and squirrels that frequented the yard. While she wasn't the smartest of the bunch, she was quick, and Emma had to bite back a chuckle as Killian stumbled more than once trying to get near her – eventually giving up and moving on to the larger fowl digging in the raspberries.

Emma enjoyed the cool slip of iced tea down her throat as she feasted on her husband – his skin glistening in the sun as he moved, each hard line and muscle calling out to be touched, stroked, lavished with the sweep of her tongue as she slid her palms over the ridged planes of his stomach, moving lower until she could curl her fingers around the waistband of his shorts and slowly peel them down, her nose parting the thatch of dark curls that surrounded his thick, glorious –

“Ha!” Killian let out a triumphant yell, drawing Emma's mind back to what he was doing, two rather disgruntled looking hens fidgeting in his arms as he hurried them back to the pen and plopped them over the fence.

Her eyes were locked on her husband as he paused to catch his breath, his biceps curling as he ran his hands through his inky mop of hair, a curtain of it falling once more over his face as he bent and tightened the laces on one of his shoes, giving her an eyeful of just how firm and perfect his ass was in those particular shorts – if her husband wasn't made in the image of the gods, then she wasn't sure there ever was such a thing.

The straw she'd been sucking on finally let out a loud gurgle as she drained the last of her drink, her cheeks flushed as Killian turned around and shot her a look that said he knew exactly what she was thinking, and indeed, as she shifted on the lounger, she could feel her desire slick and wet between her legs – but there was still one chicken left to catch – Cinnamon, and her pirate wasn't one to give up before the job was done. She set the glass down on the patio, her fingers brushing against the firm coil of the hose they used for watering the garden, and as she watched Killian sprint across the yard after the last, stubborn bird, she got a perfectly wicked idea.

He'd made a few passes around the yard, Cinnamon dodging into the raspberries when he rooted her out of the garden, but no matter how quick he was, she was faster, her beady eyes never leaving him as she pranced through the grass like a tiny, cheeky dinosaur, always just out of arm's reach. It wasn't until he paused mid yard to catch his breath that Emma struck, the hose already primed and ready as she pulled the trigger and let a spray of cool water douse him, his muscles tensing as he jumped out of range and spluttered, wiping the rivulets of clear water from his eyes, his hair plastered to his head.

“Oh, you'll pay for that, Swan,” he promised, stepping forward with a dark intensity that had her scooting back on the lounge chair, her hands raised in front of her to ward off any tickling he was likely make her suffer.

“You looked so hot,” she begged, her voice rising an octave as he drew closer, droplets spraying from his hair as he shook his head and graced her with a sinful smirk, “hot and thirsty...I just thought – ”

She was about to scream, her body already on edge at the mere thought that he might tickle her, but then he stopped, both of their heads swiveling to the garden shed where they could here the clamor of something knocking and a plaintive bock that sounded for all the world like it was coming from the bottom of a well.

“Well, your punishment will just have to wait, love – that's too good an opportunity to pass up,” Killian grinning, walking swiftly to the shed where Emma could just see the fluffy bottom of Cinnamon framed by two flapping wings, her head stuck in the open neck of an old water can.

Triumphantly, Killian picked up both the bird and the can, soothing her with quiet sounds as he coaxed her free and dropped her back into the pen with her sisters, her soft orange feathers looking only a little worse for the wear as she rejoined the flock with a confused warble.

Emma's heart thumped in her chest as her husband finally turned his attention back to her, no more chickens to distract him, and advanced across the yard, the ripple of his muscles as he moved making her core clench and her nipples harden beneath her tank top – fuck if she didn't always want him, and pregnancy hadn't done anything but make that need more sharp, more constant.

“Killian,” she pleaded, licking her lips as he strode toward her, that same determination she'd seen earlier now focused entirely on her. “You could have gotten heat stroke. It's got to be ninety – ”

She yelped as his large hands gripped the bottom of the lounge chair and pulled it closer, its wheels grating against the patio as she held on, her bare foot running along the side of her leg in anticipation.

“You were quite right, love – I was getting quite thirsty.” Letting go of the chair, he kept his blue gaze locked on hers as his palms traced the firm lines of her calves, pressing deliciously into her muscles and sliding up towards her thighs as he leaned closer, “and now that you've sated that need, I can focus on more important matters.”

“Oh?” she breathed, every other part of her brain shutting down as her body screamed for him to touch her, to  take her right there on the lounge chair, “and what would that be?”

“Well, a bit of hard labor always makes a man hungry, Swan,” he growled, his hands swiveling to press against the inside of her knees, her legs falling open on the lounger as he filled the space between them, his fingers deftly pulling the adjustment on the side of the chair and carefully lowering the head rest so she was nearly flat, her view of him suddenly blocked by the roundness of their child – it was the only thing she missed, being able to see him so sinfully enjoying himself between her legs.

“And I intend to enjoy every last bite of my dessert,” he finished, his fingers making her jump as they brushed against her inner thigh, pushing the light fabric of her shorts and panties to the side as he exposed her. “I knew you'd already be sopping wet for me, love...”

Emma whimpered as she felt the welcome press of his stubbled cheek against her leg, his breath hot against her damp folds for only an instant before the sensation was washed away by his tongue lightly dragging through her arousal, her back arching as he curled the tip of it around her clit, just barely nudging beneath its hood to tease the sensitive nerves within.  

“Oh my god,” she hissed, her fingers wrapping tightly around the edges of the lounger as she pushed forward, desperate to have his mouth sealed over her, sucking and licking and making her feel as if she could shatter with one flick of his tongue – knowing she would. “Killian, please...”

“Now be a good girl,” he whispered, pulling back as she writhed closer. “I intend to savor this, just as you savored watching me chase those bothersome fowl around the yard.”

“You shouldn't have forgotten to lock the door,” Emma whined – why she was arguing, she wasn't sure, after all, it wasn't talking she wanted his mouth occupied with.

“Ah, but I didn't let the chickens out this morning,” he chided, licking a stripe along her leg before returning to her drenched folds, teasing along the edges of them as he drank down her essence. “I was dropping Henry off at work, if you recall.”

“Oh!” Emma gasped as his tongue slipped into her, stroking another wave of wetness from her walls as his lips massaged her flesh – oh, that was right, she remembered it now, letting them out, dropping the lid to the feed bin on her foot and forgetting to latch the gate. “Oh my god....fuck...Killian, please...”

She could feel his grin against her as he pushed her legs wider, the top of his head bumping against her belly as he moved up. The flat of his tongue licked straight through her wetness and encircled her clit, his lips pursing as he sucked on her small, swollen nub, his scruff razing her thighs and countering the overwhelming roll of pleasure that was spiraling between her legs.    

“So delicious, Emma,” he moaned between her sharp gasps, leaving her only a moment's relief before he returned to making her crumble around him, alternating between sucking and laving her clit, his fingers reaching between them to slide into her tight sheath, her walls grasping and pulling as soon as he entered, eager to be filled. “I could feast on you like this all day...”

Something between a cry and a scream fell from her lips as she clutched the lounger, the pleasure building in her core spiraling and writhing and threatening to pull her apart as his rough fingers stroked her swollen walls, his tongue darting down to swallow every drop of arousal that was slipping from her, his breath fast and needy against her hot flesh – and then with a rough press of his fingers and soft flicks of his tongue, she was falling, tumbling, breaking apart around his mouth as her orgasm rolled through her like a storm.

She eased her hips up without realizing what was happening, Killian's strong hands caressing her flesh at the same time he slipped her shorts from her body, leaving her half clothed in their backyard, her mind still spinning from his incredible mouth, the sounds of the outdoors and the cars in the distance only just filtering back to her.

“That was...”

“I know,” he smirked, tossing her shorts to patio as he hooked his fingers into his own and drew them down over the impressive length of his cock, its swollen thickness bobbing against his stomach with urgency, “and now that I've eaten, I think we can move onto taking care of my other needs.”

“Killian,” she rasped, her words muffled against the material of the lounger as he gently lifted and guided her, turning her still reeling body over so that her hips were raised in the air, her sopping folds open and framed by her pale thighs as her face rested against the cushion.

“Yes, love,” he hummed, drawing a groan from her as he ran his cock through her folds, coating it in her arousal before slapping it cheekily against her bottom. “Is there something you wanted to say, perhaps?”

“I left the...accidentally...” she mumbled, coherent thought fleeing her as she felt the thick press of the head of his cock against her pleading center, her folds parting around its velvet roundness as he slowly entered her.

“What was that, darling?” His hardness slid unhurriedly into her, his strong hands holding her achingly in place as she sought that burning fullness that came when he was in her completely, but her walls pulsed longingly around just the tip of him, anticipating when they would be stretched to their limit.

“Fuck...Killian, please, need you in me...all of you,” she begged, wriggling against his grip as he grunted and gave her a few shallow thrusts, the swollen head of his cock so close to that sensitive, ribbed place inside of her that would scream with pleasure as he rolled over it.

“Aye, I know what you need, Swan, but you won't get it just yet...” He pulled out slowly, his fingers grasping her full bottom and squeezing as he watched his cock slip from her, only the flushed, glistening edges of her folds still brushing against his sensitive flesh. “Not until you admit what you did.”

“I forgot,” she hissed in a rush of air, pushing hard against his grasp, his nails almost certainly leaving red marks in her pale skin as she struggled to slide herself back onto his hard length, needing it like she needed to breath. “I left the gate open for the chickens to get – get out...”

“There we are, Swan,” he crooned, his grip easing as he swatted her on the bottom and leaned forward, a keening whimper falling from her mouth as he lodged himself completely within her, her nails dragging across the cushion as she rolled her hips to adjust to his girth. “Now was that so hard?”

She would have laughed if she didn't think she would cry from how amazing it felt to have him buried inside of her, every inch of her core throbbing around him and begging to be stroked by his beautiful cock.

“Very hard,” she breathed, squeezing his member inside of her and reveling in the deep groan it pulled from his chest, a mischievous smile twisting her lips.  “Are you mad at me?”

“Never, Emma,” he whispered, his words ghosting along her back as he leaned over her and placed a reverent kiss to her shoulder, his hand trailing along her body until it came to rest against her swollen stomach, drawing small circles against her taut skin. “There's nothing I love more than indulging the beautiful...” He thrust roughly into her, her cry of pleasure lodging between his ribs like the most exquisite knife as he withdrew “...forgetful...”      Another drive of his hips buried him in her once more, her body trembling as her walls clung desperately to his cock “...mother of my child...”

A wavering cry hung between them as he sunk deeply into her again, stilling for only a moment before his hips snapped back and he set the punishing pace she was craving, greedy, desperate pleas falling from her lips as he pistoned into her, his skin burning with a heat that roared from deep in his gut to blaze along every inch of his body.

Emma clung to the lounger as Killian filled her over and over again, his member caressing the most intimate parts of her and pulling from her noises she'd only ever shared with him, her panting breaths lost amid the slap of their skin meeting, the back of her thighs stinging from the scrape of his hair as he pounded into her, whispering things into the air that had her core throbbing with sinful pride.

It didn't take them long, the hot sun beating down against them as he roared over her, her upper body limp and clutching the cushion beneath her as he finally came, the vicious pulsing of his cock sending her over that beautiful horizon once more, her tight sheath squeezing him as he washed her insides with his release, their bodies shivering and trembling together as those last waves licked their skin – electric and burning and perfectly right.

His cheek was rough and hot against her back as his cock finally softened and slipped from her, pulling a last whimper from her lips as her wet flesh was left cool and exposed, everything throbbing pleasantly. His fingers traced soothing lines along her legs and sides, a soft chuckle reverberating against her back.

“Something funny, pirate?” she murmured, her back starting to ache even though she felt too boneless to move.

“It just occurred to me that I may very well find the chickens loose more often after this...lovely afternoon interlude.”

“I make no promises,” she quipped.  

“I've have always said you've a little bit of pirate in you, Swan,” he rumbled, pinching her bottom before gently rolling her to lay sideways on the lounger, his arms pulling her close to his chest.

“Well, more than a little,” she reminded him, drawing his calloused palm over her stomach, their not-so-little pirate rolling happily against them both as they soaked in the warmth of another lazy afternoon. Everything was bathed in that burnt, hazy afterglow that comes with summer, nearly tempting them to fall asleep – at least until something moving across her field of vision had Emma's eyes springing open, her mouth opening in surprise.

“Is that...Killian, did you check that the latch was actually shut after you put the chickens back in?”

Her husband's stubble scraped her skin as he peeked over her shoulder and watched the slow march of fowl making their way around the edge of the garden, scratching and pecking and looking far more recuperated from their last encounter than he currently felt.

“Bloody hell...”  

END

Tagging: @justanother-unluckysoul​ @kmom0f4 @the-darkdragonfly @teamhook @zaharadessert​ @xarandomdreamx @jrob64 @wefoundloveunderthelight​ @tiganasummertree​ @pirateprincessofpizza @lfh1226-linda @alexa-fangirl-forever @alifeofdreams @superchocovian @donteattheappleshook @hollyethecurious @caught-in-the-filter @snowbellewells @itsfabianadocarmo @stahlop 

#Captain Swan #CS fic #cs fanfic #emma swan #killian jones #sailtoafarawayland #humor #pregnant emma #the chicken debacle

[wefoundloveunderthelight]

Skyline Manor by GleefullyCaptainSwan Chapter 11/13

Read on AO3: | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11

Or on FF

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Chapter 11: All I See is You

Emma woke up and stared at the text message she received the night before. She didn’t know what to make of the request from Killian to meet her tonight. She wasn’t sure what he wanted to talk about that he couldn’t just come over and tell her now. Why would he need to wait until 7pm to meet her on the roof?

She tried to stay busy throughout the day, cleaning her house, making her grocery list for the following week, while also fielding calls from her brother to find out how she was doing after her relationship with Graham had ended. He couldn’t understand what had gone wrong, but then Emma knew he had been too caught up in the possibility of Emma settling down that he never once stopped to ask her if Graham actually made her happy. Emma couldn’t fault him for that, she should have stopped and asked herself that question before it got to a place where Graham found himself on one knee in front of their friends.

Honestly, Emma hadn’t felt more at ease since ending things with Graham. She knew she could have just told him she wasn’t ready to get married without ending the relationship, but when he asked her to spend the rest of her life with him, she knew that it wasn’t just getting married to Graham that she was unable to do, it was in that moment that she knew being with him at all wasn’t right for her.

That evening, she wasn’t worried about her own feelings; she had mourned the destruction of her relationship with a glass of wine and a bar of chocolate. She was more concerned about Henry. She hated taking away yet another father figure from his life. However, the boy hardly seemed phased, and she realized that perhaps Henry wasn’t as taken with Graham as she wanted him to be.

“So, things seem to be going well with Belle.” Emma tried to ask without sounding too interested in how Killian’s ex was doing with her new relationship.

“Well enough that she’s not going back to him, if that’s what you’re worried about.” He teased.

“What?” Emma asked in shock. “My statement wasn’t about Killian. I just wanted to know how my best friend was doing with his new relationship.”

“Well then, your best friend is doing amazing. She’s bloody brilliant Em.” Emma could tell that Will was smitten with Belle. He hadn’t stopped smiling since they started going out and she loved seeing the smile permanently on his face. Will deserved someone who treated him as special as she had always seen him.

“I’m happy for you.” She responded, trying not to feel a pit of sadness forming in her stomach. She was happy for him, she just wondered if she would ever feel as happy as he did.

“Killian seems pretty happy for Belle, too. He even gave me some advice on her favorite foods and flowers so that I could cook for her this weekend.”

“That’s odd.” She chuckled.

“Not really, I mean the way Belle tells me, they never really had a serious relationship. They seem like really good friends though.”

Emma nervously cleaned the table, putting the dirty dishes into the sink, she looked down at her watch and realized it was almost 7pm. “Can you watch Henry for a little bit, I need to do something.”

“Yeah, everything alright?” Will asked.

“Oh yeah, I won’t be long.” Emma left the apartment and made her way to the roof, anxiety and curiosity starting to build up in her mind.

~*~

Killian wasn’t sure what Emma would need to discuss with him or why the need to wait until evening.

He had been surprised to find out that she declined Graham’s marriage proposal, but Henry didn’t seem to know anything about his mother’s text asking to meet with him. He resisted responding to her after he tried four different responses, none being satisfactory. In the end he opted to just leave the phone sitting on the counter. He would simply show up at 7pm and hope for the best.

At around 6:30, he found he could no longer sit in his apartment watching the clock. Instead, he headed to the roof to wait for Emma.

At 7:05 she walked through the door; an anxious worry written all over her face.

“Hey.”

“Hello, Swan.” He greeted the woman when she approached him.

“So…” She said as if she was waiting for him to start the conversation.

“What is the reason for all the secrecy?”

“Secrecy?” Her eyes narrowed. “You tell me.”

Killian chuckled. “I haven’t a clue, I assumed you would know the reason you asked me here.”

“I asked you here?”

“Aye.”

She shook her head. “That’s ridiculous. You asked me to meet you.”

“I can assure you I did no such thing, love.”

Emma dug into her pocket, producing her phone, a nervous laugh leaving her lips. “I’m not crazy.” She mumbled under her breath. “See, right here.” She held up the phone and Killian squinted to read the message on the screen. When he saw it came from him, he reached out and grabbed the phone from her hands.

“No that’s not possible.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulled his own phone, finding his message from Emma and holding it to her. “You can clearly see that you sent me the message last night.”

Emma looked at the two phones. “What the hell.”

“How is this possible?”

“I haven’t a clue, love. But it appears that someone is messing with us.”

“Who would do that? Besides, who has access to both of our phones?” Emma asked.

They both looked up at each other simultaneously and spoke. “Henry.”

“But why would the lad send this message?”

“I don’t know, but I’m about to go find out.” Emma said angrily, turning to leave when suddenly the boy in question appeared in the doorway. “Henry. We need to talk.”

“Sorry mom, I love you a lot but you’re too stubborn for your own good. You and Killian need to talk.” He looked at Killian. “You both need to stop running from each other. Killian, you don’t have to be alone, but you need to believe that you are worthy of being loved. And mom, true love can conquer anything, but you have to be willing to open yourself up to it.”

“Henry David Swan, this is not one of your fairytales, you can’t just…”

“Love you guys. I’ll be back in a bit.” And with that, the door slammed shut.

~*~

Henry pulled the door shut, turning the lock, effectively trapping his mother and Killian on the roof.

“Are you sure about this kid?”

Henry turned around, sitting on the step next to Will. “Mom always needs a little push when it comes to being honest with herself.” There was a bang on the door behind him and he heard his mother yelling, flinching he turned back to look at Will with a nervous laugh.

“Aye, I know this, but you also know that she’s gonna ground you until you turn 18. You weighed that risk right?”

He shrugged. “It’ll be worth it.” He said with a grin.

“I owe you a huge debt, Captain.” The King reached out to pass the bundle of coins into the man’s hand. “Should you ever find yourself in our Kingdom again, please make sure to make our acquaintance.”

“It was a pleasure meeting you, your highness.” Captain Jones paused. “I’m sure you are anxious for things to return to normal, with Baelfire behind bars, your sister is free to marry the Duke.”

The King laughed, “I’m afraid my sister is anything but normal. She has already informed me that she has decided not to marry the Duke.”

“Emm…Princess Swan does indeed appear to do things her own way.”

“I never did get a chance to apologize for my sister’s interference with your mission.”

“Apologizes are not necessary, she was of great assistance.”

“Emma has always wished for more than these stone walls.”

“You can’t cage a bird forever.” The Captain stated before rising to leave. “I must take my leave; I fear I have stayed too long, and the sea is calling my name.”

“Thank you again, Captain.”

Killian left the King, heading out of the castle to retreat to the Jolly to prepare her for sailing in the morning. As he rounded the corner he saw Master Henry waiting at the end of the corridor.

“Captain Jones!”

“Master Henry, so happy to see you well.”

“Are you leaving already?”

“Aye, this is not the only kingdom in need of my assistance, my crew and I must be on our way to Arendelle by first light.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Anything, lad.”

“I was wondering if you were in need of additional crew on the Jolly Roger?”

The Captain laughed. “Is this inquiry personal? I’m not certain your mother would approve.”

“I’m not a child. I’m not even officially a royal. I have no claim to the throne. My place here is unnecessary. I want to explore new worlds, find adventure, learn to sword fight like you.”

“Henry, I would be honored for you to join my crew, with your mother’s permission of course.”

“Really?”

“Aye, I’m always in need of good men who are willing to have my back. But I fear your mother may not be in agreement with you leaving the nest.”

“My mother might surprise you.” He said with a smile.

“I believe that. Your mother is not like many I have met.”

“Have you spoken to her?”

“Not since we turned Baelfire over to the Sheriff. A man of my stature does not seek out the company of royalty without being called upon.”

“I’m sure she will be sad to find that she missed you before you left.”

“I’m on my way to the Thirsty Lion; I need to rally the troops before we set sail in the morning. In case anyone would find themselves interested in joining my crew or needing to speak to me, that’s where they will find me until sundown.” He said with a wink.

“Thank you Captain.” Henry took his leave as the Captain left the castle, a nervous excitement taking over him.

After dinner, Henry found himself confronting his mother about the man they turned over to the Sheriff. “Why didn’t you tell me the truth about my father?”

“I didn’t want to hurt you, to make you think that you weren’t wanted. Your father may have left us, but you have always been loved Henry.”

“I never felt unloved, mother.”

Princess Emma wrapped her arms around her son and hugged him. “I’m sorry you had to find out this way.” She pulled back, looking at her son. “Why did you follow me to the Jolly Roger?”

“I didn’t. I was actually following Captain Jones. After he came to my room that evening, I just wanted to see what it was like to go on an adventure. I’m always stuck here in the castle.”

“Being royalty means we have responsibilities. It’s our duty to be here, to be seen.”

“But I’m not royalty. You are though. So why did you follow Captain Jones then?” He asked with a smirk. “That doesn’t seem like part of your responsibility. Uncle David says that you are supposed to be choosing a husband.”

“I suppose you are very much like your mother; I don’t like being told what to do either.”

“Do you not intend to marry the Duke?”

Princess Emma crinkled her nose, “I always thought my life would be so different than what it has become.”

“You wish for adventure too.”

“Why does a Princess have to stay in court, bound to a man of royal blood?”

“It’s a shame that Captain Jones isn’t sticking around.” Henry said with a sly smile.

“You’ve talked to him?”

“I saw him this morning when Uncle David met with him, he said that he was to set sail for Arendelle at first light.”

“Oh, is that so?” Her tone was full of disappointment and longing.

“I believe he was headed to the Thirsty Lion. He was sure to make mention of that in case anyone needed to speak with him before he lifted anchor.”

“Did he mention anyone specifically?”

“Of course not, that would be improper, would it not, Mother?” She kissed her son on the forehead, standing up and rushing to the door. “Mother.” She turned back to face him. “Wear the green cloak, it matches your eyes, and is less recognizable in public than the gold frock you tried to hide in when I tracked you.”

~*~

Killian watched as Henry stepped away into the stairwell, the large metal door slamming shut in slow motion.

“Shit.” Killian ran for the door, tugging on the handle but it wouldn’t budge. “Sneaky little bugger, he’s locked us out.”

“What? Are you kidding me?”

“I can assure you, love; it won’t budge.” Emma pushed past him and yanked on the handle.

“Oh, he’s grounded for a month!” She screeched as she kicked the door with her foot and Killian couldn’t stop the laugh escaping his mouth. She turned quickly. “Do you think this is funny?”

“Of course not, but I hardly think the punishment fits the crime.”

“He locked us on the rooftop because he thinks we are running away from true love. You realize that’s ridiculous, don’t you? There’s no such thing as true love, you find someone you don’t want to kill, and you hope for the best.”

He couldn’t hold in the sad laugh at her comment. Their eyes locked and Killian swallowed, his throat suddenly feeling dry. The boy did have an active imagination, that he was sure of since the literacy fair. However, his assessment that Killian was running wasn’t exactly a lie.

“Aye, I admit that the boy has a flair for the dramatics, however he makes a fair point, at least on my account.” Her eyes widened.

“You’re not telling me that you agree with him?”

“I didn’t say that Swan. I’m just saying that he makes a fair point. I’ve hurt more people than I care to admit in my quest to escape my past, Belle included.”

“I don’t understand, what are you escaping from?” She paused, horror framing her face. “Oh God, you aren’t a serial killer are you?”

“Bloody hell woman, you immediately jump to serial killer. The boy isn’t kidding, you do have trust issues.”

“He told you I have trust issues?”

Killian rolled his eyes. “Is he wrong?”

“No, but that’s not the point.” She pouted angrily.

Killian paced his spot on the roof, watching the woman seated in front of him. He was in dangerous waters here; he knew that opening up to her could lead to ramifications for their friendship. He wasn’t sure he could afford to lose both Emma and Henry in his life. However, not talking to her could also drastically change things anyway.

“I’m not a serial Killer, Swan, so you can stop planning your escape.” He sighed and sat down next to her. “However, I’m not proud of my past. My previous relationship was the definition of muddy waters at best.”

“I was married to a man who took me clubbing on our first date only to come back and rob it later that night. Trust me, I get muddy waters.”

Killian narrowed his eyes; this Neal character was dumber than he thought. “Perhaps you do.”

“We all do stupid shit; it doesn’t mean we are bad people.”

He took a deep breath, “I dated a woman while I was in the Navy. Milah. I was consumed with her the moment I laid eyes on her at the bar. She had the mouth of a sailor, the body of a goddess, and I swore she knew me more than I knew myself.” Emma squirmed in her seat beside him. “I fell in love with her the way most people do, feet first with my eyes closed. I gave her everything I had, my entire soul.”

“Is she the reason you moved to Boston?”

“Aye, though I wouldn’t call it a move, more of an escape. I intended to ask her to marry me. Liam didn’t approve, he felt she would not live up to my mother’s expectation for her son, he refused to give me his blessing, or my mother’s ring, but it didn’t deter me. She was my world.”

“So, you asked her anyway?”

He nodded. “It was the happiest day of my life, and sadly the day my entire world exploded around me.” He paused. “Milah was unable to accept my proposal, because she was already married.”

“Oh wow, that’s... I’m sorry.”

“I wish that was where the tale ended, however I’m ashamed to say that my part in the story continued.” He hung his head, taking his eyes off her. “As I said, she was my world, and I could not let her go. My brother always told me that a man unwilling to fight for what he wants, deserves what he gets.” He laughed. “I never stopped to question if what I was fighting for was worthy of my time and effort.”

“You wanted her to leave her husband?”

“Aye, she told me she was going to leave him, he was abusive, and things escalated. Many nights I spent cleaning her up, tending to her wounds, begging her not to go back to him. She always told me it was the last time, I would send her home to pack her things and return to me. But she never did.” He laughed. “I was a fool. I should have ended it, walked away. But the last night was worse than anything he had ever done. He had broken her arm, threatened to kill her. It was the last straw. I went after him, gave him an ass beating he won’t soon forget.”

Emma gasped beside him. “It sounds like he deserved it.”

He chuckled. “I got arrested for assault and battery. Turns out her husband was an up-and-coming politician.”

“But what about his wife, surely there was evidence to prove she was being battered?”

“It was her word against mine.” He said sadly.

“What? She lied?”

“She told the police I was a jealous ex-lover, and that she had begged me to leave her alone. I went to jail for a time and when I was released, I had been dishonorably discharged from the Navy. Everything I had built and dreamed of since I was a child was gone.”

“Killian that’s terrible. But that hardly sounds like you were the bad guy.”

He sat up in his chair, “Perhaps not, but I knew I brought this on myself. I allowed Milah to continue to cheat on her husband, I should have stopped it. I should have walked away. I deserved the punishment I got.”

“And I made you do it again when I kissed you while I was dating Graham.” She said sadly.

“I couldn’t allow anything to progress with us, no matter how much I wished it.”

“You wished for it?”

“Aye, but after Milah, I got shit faced and made a promise to my brother that I would never have a relationship with a woman again.”

“But you were just dating Belle.”

“Belle and I were merely existing. I never called her my girlfriend, a fact that I believe hurt her more than I could comprehend. Belle is a good woman and someone I consider a cherished friend. She deserved better than me.”

“So, you’re just going to keep running from feeling anything because of a drunken promise after making a mistake?”

“Can I ask you something, Emma?”

“Interesting, asking a question to avoid answering one.”

Killian pushed forward. “Why did you turn down Graham’s proposal?”

She frowned. “Guess I didn’t feel like getting married again, seemed like a lot of work.”

“I just told you the thing I am most fearful of people learning about me and you return the favor by being less than honest in your answer.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“Try the truth. Why does your boy think you are running?”

“Why does Henry think anything? He has an active imagination.” Killian rolled his eyes. “Ok fine, you want the truth? Graham was a good guy, he treated me well, he was good to Henry. I could have married him and let him take care of me for the rest of our lives.”

“And you think that’s a bad thing?”

“Of course not, but he didn’t make me feel anything. I loved him but I wasn’t in love with him. I just wanted to feel alive, desired, wanted.”

“So, you kissed me?”

“You make it sound like I was using you. I wasn’t. I kissed you because I wanted to. Because you scare me. You make me feel things I’ve never felt before.”

“Scaring a woman hardly sounds like a good thing.” He laughed.

“When I was younger, I was a different person. I wanted adventure, excitement. I was the type of person who wanted to get up at 3am, take a boat out into the middle of the ocean, and watch the sun come up. I took trips without even knowing where I was going. I was 18 years old when I met Neal, we ran hard and fast and we almost destroyed each other. We were married and divorced before I even knew who he was. By the time I figured it out, Henry came. And then I had responsibilities and someone else depending on me.”

Killian watched her face, imagining what Emma must have been like back then. She would have been the type of woman he would have fallen for in a heartbeat. Perhaps if they had met back then, neither of them would have gone through what they did.

“I started playing things safe. My ex, Walsh, was a banker, you couldn’t get more boring than him if you tried. And then there was Graham, I’ve known him since I was a child, he was a friend, a security guard who took care of old people.” She laughed.

“And then one day, this man in a leather jacket rode up on his bike, I could practically smell danger and adventure and excitement from the moment I met you.” Her eyes never left his as she spoke. “And I was ok just fantasizing about it because I don’t date men like you. But then you went and did the most aggravating thing anyone could have ever done.”

He couldn’t stop the smirk. “What’s that, love?”

“This man who was supposed to be dangerous and terrifying became friends with my eleven-year-old son.”

“He’s friends with Will too, love, I fail to see how that’s aggravating.”

“Will doesn’t count. He’s been my best friend since before I even realized what boys were. But you…you became friends with Henry because you wanted to. And it was aggravating because you did it without even trying to get into my pants. You just hung out with him. Despite my protests, my distrust, even though you had no reason at all to even pay him the time of day, you talked to him like he was a human who deserved an audience.”

“Perhaps I’m missing the point.” He said with a chuckle.

“Dangerous men don’t become friends with my son. They don’t listen to him when he’s having a bad day. They don’t show up at his literacy fair to watch him recite a poem that he wrote about him and his mother.”

“Why Swan, are you saying that you are the Princess, and I am the Pirate from Henry’s tale?” He teased with a grin.

“Stop it, you already knew as much.”

“I had my suspicions, yes.”

“That’s my point, even after all that, you still hung around. You babysat him, I mean you almost set my house on fire doing so, but, even after Henry faked being sick just so I would end my date early with Graham, you still stayed.” She shook her head. “You let him come to your house to play with your dog every night before he went to bed, you eat my food, and you never complain that it’s burned…” She closed her eyes, words almost coming out in a whisper, “and sometimes I catch you looking at me and it takes my breath away.”

Without even thinking, he reached out, his thumb tracing a line against her cheek. “Sometimes, when I look at you, I swear my heart is going to pound out of my chest and everything around me ceases to exist. Because all I see is you.”

Her eyes opened, locking with his, and in a single heartbeat, she was in his arms, her lips crashing against his mouth, and the world stopped.

#skyline manor #stacy's fics #killian jones #emma swan #captain swan fics #captain swan au #captain swan modern au #captain swan

[ocenitram]

"Here you go, Miss Swan" Regina said, handing Emma a baby bottle of apple juice before quickly checking the blonde's diaper. "Hmm you're a little wet but we can change you later. I'll let Henry know you're here. But first" The mayor said , her voice now almost a coo. "Tell me, Emmy, how old are you? And what are you doing in your diaper?" She patted the blonde's head.

"Regina you don't have to check me I'll tell you if I need a change," The blonde blushed and fibbed the truth was she enjoyed being babied by the mayor. Emma looked at the baby bottle and shurgged she was thirsty after all, but their was another reason she drank from it. The truth was that she felt jealous of her little brother. He got everything that was taken from her. "Thanks Regina," Emma began to drink the bottle without hesitation it was extremely easy to get her to drink it. once she was done she looked up and she felt strange "I did many," she lifted two fingers to indicate that she thought she was two. "POOPY!" the blonde baby exclaimed.

#once upon a time roleplay #emma swan #ouat #anon ask #ouat ask rp

[slow-smiles]

feelin that feel when u look at emma swan and think “pls sit on my face”

#emma swan #im so thirsty lol

[ao3feed-swanqueen]

by waknatious

The Gender-Bent Handyman AU Someone Asked For prompt from Natasha over on tumblr; I asked for "one word prompts" and she cheated and used two but ima let it slide

Words: 1241, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Once Upon a Time (TV)

Rating: Not Rated

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: F/F

Characters: Evil Queen | Regina Mills, Emma Swan

Relationships: Evil Queen | Regina Mills/Emma Swan

Additional Tags: AU, no magic, non-canon, regina is so thirsty, One Word Prompts, Originally Posted on Tumblr

#IFTTT #ao3feed #fanfic #swan queen #ouat

[eirian-houpe]

The Pawn Shop On Main Street - Chapter 1

Fandom: Once Upon a Time (TV)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold, Mad Hatter | Jefferson & Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold

Characters: Belle (Once Upon a Time), Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold, Mad Hatter | Jefferson, Grace | Paige, Evil Queen | Regina Mills, Widow Lucas | Granny, Red Riding Hood | Ruby, Jiminy Cricket | Archie Hopper, Grumpy | Leroy, Blue Fairy | Mother Superior, Emma Swan, Prince Charming | David Nolan, Snow White | Mary Margaret Blanchard, Henry Mills (Once Upon a Time), Sneezy | Tom Clark, Merida (Once Upon a Time), Cloe, Mother Trude, Dove (Once Upon a Time)

Additional Tags: Cursed Storybrooke (Once Upon a Time), Angst, Romance, Eventual Smut, Will add more as apropriate

Summary: Gold is suddenly awakened from the curse, not by the fail-safe that he programmed into his mind, but by the unexpected presence of his long lost maid, with whom he fell in love well before Regina cast his Dark Curse, Rumplestiltskin must now find a way past Belle's disbelief and fear. She is still under the influence of the curse. With the help of his dear - his oldest - friend, Gold seeks a way past obstacles so that he can rekindle the love which he rejected back in the Dark Castle. 

The story is set in the same 'verse as The Library Beneath the Clock Tower, and could be considered a sequel of sorts.

Chapter 1 - Old Friends

He felt drawn to her. He could not look away, his gaze transfixed as her eyes took in the fireworks bursting overhead. They paled by comparison. Nothing could compare.

…a brief flicker of light in an ocean of darkness.

The thought caught him off guard, as if he were standing on the edge of a fall, with a gust of wind buffeting him toward the edge. He felt suddenly thirsty - the earth waiting for the cloud above his head to burst like the sparkles and fizzles overhead.

All this time she had been right there, within reach, the meaning that had been missing for as long as he could remember - as long as he had been in Storybrooke. It made sense of everything he’d done, but at the same time made no sense at all.

Suddenly afraid, for no reason he could understand, he took a step closer, right behind her, caressing her fingers softly, before taking her hands, slowly, into his own. Their fingers entwined.

It flashed through him in a pulse; bright, vibrant, burning away the fog of years and realms.

She mocked him.  Regina mocked him - how dare she, and yet, he had no energy, and even less will to react to her impudence.

“Is this about that girl I met on the road?” She laughed and stalked the room, her hips swaying in exaggerated sensuality. It reminded him of Cora, and that did little to change his mood… the reminder of other betrayals, other… abandonments. Regina glanced his way. “What was her name? Margie? Verna?

Rumplestiltskin barely breathed her name. “Belle.”

Suddenly business-like, this evil queen he had created, said matter-of-fact as she fixed herself some tea - uninvited, “Right. Well... you can rest assured I had nothing to do with that tragedy.”

He stopped idly spinning the wheel and turned to walk toward her, all but willing pox into the cup she was stirring, “What… tragedy?”

“You don't know?” Regina asked as though scandalized, then chuckled as she cleaned the spoon with her mouth and set it down.  “Well, After she got home… her fiancé had gone missing.” He feigned innocence, but Regina knew. Her expression told him so. She took only a few steps away before turning around. “And after her stay here, her… association… with you, no one would want her, of course. Her father shunned her, cut her off, shut her out.”

Hope flared in his heart, and in an unguarded moment, he let the words slip from deep within that hope. “So she needs… a home?”

Regina laughed cruelly, though whether at what had happened, or at him for his weakness he was uncertain, then went on, “He was cruel to her. He locked her in a tower and sent in clerics to cleanse her soul with scourges and flaying. After a while, she threw herself off the tower. She died.”

She spoke the last two words with such careless triumph that the urge to throttle the life from the conniving bitch almost choked him… murdered his hope.

“You're lying,” he growled.

“Am I?” she countered, leaving him cold and dead inside.

He wanted to be angry now, to rail against the lies Regina had told him, blatant fabrications, right to his face, and yet… Here was his light.  Hale, whole and…

“You’re real,” he breathed. “You’re alive!”

He moved closer yet, moving his fingers again in a soft, quiet caress.  The curse was lifted, he remembered. Everything, and oh, how beastly he had been when they had last seen one another. When he had sent her away.

”I’m not a coward, dearie. It’s quite simple really… my power… means more to me than you.”  

She pulled herself up to her full, diminutive height, and looked him full in the face. “No. No, it doesn't. You just don't think I can love you. Now, you've made your choice. And you're going to regret it.”

His heart broke as her voice quivered - a roar of pain that almost drowned out her following word, “Forever.”

He curled his hands into fists. His hard, pointed talons left wheal marks in his palms, but he couldn’t allow her to see how much her words affected him.

“And all you'll have... is an empty heart,” her voice broke, and she forced herself to go on, “and a chipped cup.”

Her eyes were filled with tears, but she held his gaze, and he had to push his own rising tears deep inside lest he belie his words.  Not until she had turned, and walked away, out of the cell, and out of his life… forever… and he could no longer see or hear her, did he move - and then only to close his eyes.

Was she feeling this too? Did she remember?  A part of him hoped not; hoped that fate had delivered him a way to right the wrongs of his past; to woo her, to love her as she deserved to be loved, and yet, the Dark One knew that ‘loopholes’ was another word for lies. Gold wanted no more lies.

For a moment, one sweet, sharp moment she leaned against him, tightened her fingers around his, and he knew… he knew without any doubt that she remembered. At least in that moment, she remembered.

“Belle,” he whispered.

Then, like the icy fall of rain that dampened even the hottest fire, she snatched her hands from his, and he was suddenly frozen, bereft. Helpless to do anything other that watch with mounting fear as she turned to face him; tried with all his heart to let her see that she had been right all along - that she had the measure of him, and not only that - but now, in the face of seeing her again, though he wanted nothing more than to reach out and draw her into his arms, hold her forever - protected, loved - he was still a coward.

“Belle,” he whispered again, reaching too late to catch her as she picked up her skirts and fled.  He cried out for her, as he should have done then, in the Dark Castle - called her back, “Belle!”

His cry was echoed a moment later and he registered a familiar voice behind the calling. His friend, Jefferson. A Storybrooke friend, yes, but the Dark One’s only friend through all the ages. How could he not have known?

He stared. He stared after Belle, who stopped at neither of their calling, and he stared toward Jefferson, meeting the horrified expression that mirrored his own.

The Hatter seemed torn, glanced away as if to find Belle in the crowd, but ultimately turned his steps and hurried to Gold’s side.

"You knew!" Gold almost sobbed, and reaching out, grabbed Jefferson by the lapels of his flamboyant, silk tailcoat and pulled him closer, almost shaking the man. "How could you know… know me and yet say nothing?"

Jefferson’s long fingers closed around his wrists, not to prevent, but to anchor, as if the Portal Jumper feared to let go and needed to hold him close as he spoke.

"The man you are here and I said that?" Jefferson said, pained, and only then Gold saw the tears that were gathered in the other man’s blue eyes. "How could I, and not have you cast me away?"

For all that he saw, for all that he felt, still Gold gave vent to his own pain. "But you were my… we were friends!"

Instead of words, Jefferson answered with cry, almost of anguish, and suddenly releasing his wrists, clutched Gold close.

"We are friends," he sobbed, clinging tightly. "We are!"

At first, startled, Gold struggled, tried to push Jefferson away, but as the present melted away leaving just the two of them alone on the rise above where the other revelers were lost in their drunken celebrations of the night, Gold… Rumplestiltskin missed his friend, and already held tightly in Jefferson’s embrace, pulled the man closer still, and held him through the maelstrom of all that he was - pawnbroker, landlord, deal maker, sorcerer, master, Dark One, killer, father, husband, lover… coward - all of it, every little piece of him returning in a rush, he clung to Jefferson like a man drowning.

Eventually, both spent, they each slumped, exhausted to the ground, mute and panting for breath, though as he looked across at Jefferson, Rumplestiltskin saw that silent tears still ran down Jefferson’s face. Intuitively he knew the cause.

“I didn’t know,” he said, and Jefferson raised his face to look at him, incomprehension in his wet and shining eyes. “Grace,” Gold offered. “I didn’t know what Regina planned.”

“I know,” Jefferson whispered, before finding his voice. “I have always known it was her doing, and hers alone.” He reached out for Gold’s hand, and he took it without hesitation, listening as Jefferson continued. “For all that we didn’t see things the same way much of the time; for all that we fought, I knew and never once doubted that you’d ever do something like that to another man, another father. I saw what you did for Baelfire and—”

“Bae,” Gold interrupted. His voice hoarse and rasping. He felt Jefferson’s fingers tighten around his own, and he took a breath. “If I had the power,” he said, “to undo what she did.”

“No!” Jefferson sounded alarmed, almost terrified, then went on more calmly, “No. Not until we can be together. Not until I can be sure she won’t hate me for abandoning her. She can’t know.” His voice cracked as he went on. “Cloe’s her mother here. She knows nothing about a foolish man who made a promise and then broke it; who abandoned her to ignominy and hardship.”

“Jefferson…”

The other man blanched, and releasing his grip on Gold held up both hands in surrender, as if he thought he’d just delivered some kind of terrible insult.

“That wasn’t your fault,” Gold murmured quietly.

“Then whose?” Jefferson shook his head; argued. “I can recite a whole litany of ‘if I hadn’ts’ going all the way back to before we first met. Who else’s fault can it be?”

Gold fixed him with a level, uncompromising look.

“No,” Jefferson said firmly. “You are not responsible for all the ills of every realm.”

Gold was silent for a long time. He knew Jefferson well enough to understand that when he had his mind fixed on something - especially something self-deprecating - there could be no moving him; not until he saw the truth of it for himself.

Both men sighed, almost at the same time, and that made Gold chuckle just a little, with a good deal of his own self-deprecation, before he said, “And that… that, my good man, is why you are the Dark One’s only true friend.”

Jefferson let out another sigh, then offered Gold a smile through half-pursed lips, and then started to push himself up off the ground where they had both fallen.

“I’ll find her,” he promised softly. “Make sure she’s safe and gets home all right. We can fix this. We’ll find a way.”

“Ever the optimist, Jefferson.”

“Hardly,” the Hatter said dryly, before turning, ready to begin his descent from the hill. He stopped after just a few steps, and turned back. “Rumplestiltskin?”

Gold looked up, his head tipped to one side. “Hmm?”

“How long?”

Gold looked skyward, as if the position of the stars could give him the answer to Jefferson’s question, and they might well have - had time not been motionless in Storybrooke these past…  He shook his head. He knew the answer. It was written into the fabric of the Dark Curse, into the single drop of ‘True Love’ he had dripped onto the parchment; The single drop that would herald the arrival of The Savior.

“Twenty-eight years,” he answered quietly. “Twenty-eight years.”

#rumbelle #cursed storybrooke #angst #romance #eventual smut #the pawn shop on main street #the library beneath the clock tower #i will always write jefferson