Killian and Liam Jones are called in to help with the haunting of an old carriage house where a skeleton was recently found walled up within the cellar. This is no ordinary ghost hunt for the supernatural fighting brothers, however. This job will require Killian to face the person who has been haunting him for nearly a year. Emma Swan. The woman he ghosted.
A/N: Here it is! The final installment! I can't believe it is finally finished! Thank you all for coming on the journey with me, and thank you for all the patience between some of the longer updates. I hope you enjoy the conclusion of this haunting tale.
Shout out to @kmomof4 for her exceptional beta skills! Also a HUGE thank you to @snowbellewells who made the cover art for my birthday last year. Thank you again, Marta! I absolutely love it!
Rated T / Also available on ao3 / add to tag list / Curious? Come Ask Me! / Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four / Part Five / Part Six
Part Seven
As it had been arranged the first time, candles circled the foursome as they sat with their hands clasped together, ready to call upon the spirit world. It had only taken about fifteen minutes for Killian to get things set up, but it was another ten before they were able to convince Regina to go into the cellar. Knowing that was where Daniel’s body had been discovered, buried behind a wall for decades, was almost too much for her to face. Eventually, with Robin’s support and Emma’s reassurances, they managed to get her down the steps and seated on the floor in front of the ouija board.
In an effort to bar Cora from interfering until Liam and Belle could properly force her to cross over, Killian had set up a ward against the malevolent spectre, using one of the photos from Belle’s file and special sigil marked in chalk, outlining the candles. So long as they kept the chalk circle unbroken, Cora would be powerless to enter it.
“Once we place our hands on the planchette, it is important that they remain there until the session is concluded,” Killian instructed each of them before catching Regina’s gaze. “I’ll open the doorway, but once Daniel joins us you can take over.”
He could see the lingering doubt in her expression, but had faith that the rest of their energies were enough to help Daniel manifest. Checking one last time that the ward was secure, Killian wished they could have waited until Cora was no longer a threat, but worried that any delay would have allowed Regina to talk herself out of going through with this. Besides, he and Emma had agreed it was best to keep Regina in the dark about her mother’s spirit, and how they planned to deal with it.
Placing their hands on the planchette, a collective inhale could be felt as Killian began. “Daniel? We invite you to join us. Use our energies to come forward and resolve the unfinished business keeping you here.”
Silence and stagnation surrounded them with only the soft flickering of the candles’ flames piercing the dark quiet.
“Daniel?” Killian began again. “Regina is here. She knows you did not abandon her. This is your chance to say a proper good-bye.”
Still nothing. Killian began to wonder if he’d done something wrong with the ward. The circle typically ensured the warded spirit could not enter and manipulate the board or the participants. Was it possible Cora had gained enough strength to block Daniel from entering? Perhaps they needed to boost the energy within the enclosed ward.
Killian was about to give himself over as he had the last time when the violent sound of a door slamming atop the cellar stairs shattered the calm. Everyone visibly started, their bodies twisting around to look towards the steps. Footsteps echoed against each tread, a distinct clack of a heel clipping its way along the descent. It stopped when it reached the bottom and Killian gave them a word of assurance.
“Unless that’s Daniel, they can’t interfere. No harm will come to us as long as we remain--”
A biting wind shrieked through the cellar, extinguishing the candles and plunging them into darkness. Emma and Regina both screamed and the men cursed.
“Don’t move!” Killian urged, fumbling for the flashlight he’d set down beside him before the started.
“I can’t do this!” Regina cried out fearfully.
Killian heard people get to their feet as he found the flashlight, the sound of fleeing footsteps out pacing the beam of light.
“Wait!” Emma shouted, following after Regina.
“Swan! Be careful!”
Light flooded the stairs as Regina flung the door open. Killian chased after Robin and Emma as they hurried after the frightened woman, then nearly collided with them when he exited the cellar.
“Regina?” Robin called out, clearly as unnerved as the rest of them at the way she had just stopped and was now standing calmly with her back to them. “Are you… alright?”
Slowly, the dark haired woman turned to face them, her posture and expression making the coarse hairs of Killian’s body raise in alarm.
“Regina?”
“I don’t think--”
“You will refer to my daughter as Miss Mills,” the woman instructed sternly, her eyes sweeping over Robin and her nose scrunching as though doing so were causing a foul odor to fill her sinuses. “Who do you think you are to behave so informally with her?”
“Cora,” Emma stated, shooting a wary, wide-eyed look Killian’s way.
“Cora?” Robin repeated in shock. “You mean, Regina’s mother? That Cora?”
“Aye,” Killian affirmed, cautiously making his way forward and focusing on the possessing spirit whilst positioning himself in front of Emma. “Taking control of Neal was one thing, but robbing your daughter of her agency? What sort of mother are you?”
A spurious smile stretched across Regina's painted lips. “I’ve already told you, your pretty looks will not buy my time. Do you really think I will lower myself to engage in your baiting?”
“What do you want, then?” Emma asked over his shoulder. “Why take possession of Regina?”
The woman’s cold eyes flicked to Swan’s and she stared her down with a malignant gaze. “Why, to stop you, of course.”
“Stop what? Her learning the truth? She already knows Daniel didn’t take your money and leave on his own.”
“No, no, silly girl.” Like a serpent, she slithered forward a few steps, stopping shy of the threesome’s personal space. Snapping her gaze back to Killian, she declared, “To stop you from desecrating my corpse.”
Out of the corner of his eye Killian saw both Robin and Emma balk.
“I beg your pardon?” Robin exclaimed. “Desecrate her… What is she talking about?”
Ignoring Robin’s question, Killian challenged the woman. “I don’t know what you--”
“Oh, yes. You do.” The words clipped off her tongue with barely subdued rage. “I am not stupid. I know what you’ve got planned. Your brother is out there right now with ill-intent, and you’re going to stop him.”
“And if I don’t?”
A smirk lifted the corner of her mouth and her eyes dropped down to the body she’d commandeered. “Then I guess I’ll be keeping my daughter close and making certain she lives out the remainder of her life as I see fit.”
“No!” Robin replied, advancing on the woman. “I won’t let you!”
“Robin, stop!”
Before the man could heed the warning (though, he likely would not have), Regina’s hands grabbed ahold of Robin’s upper arms and using his own momentum against him, she swung him into the nearby door jam, the impact knocking him to the ground.
“Don’t!” Killian ordered when Robin began to pick himself up off the floor. “It’s all right. She’s bluffing.”
“Am I?”
“Aye,” Killian replied confidently. “You and I both know you haven’t the strength to maintain this level of control indefinitely.”
“And I refuse to believe you are so heartless that you’d deprive your own daughter of the life she has left.”
Killian stiffened as Emma stepped around him to continue confronting the woman. He did not want Swan to put herself in danger, but knew they needed to buy Liam as much time as possible.
“I only want what is best for her. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
“What about what she wants?” Emma countered. “She loved Daniel. She might even love Robin. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”
“My dear,” the woman condescendingly drawled. “Love is weakness. And as for being heartless…”
A ghostly arm shot out from Regina's shoulder and disappeared into Emma’s chest.
“No!” Killian cried out, momentarily frozen in shock and fear as he watched Swan’s body contort, shoulders caving inward, her breath stuck in her throat.
When he finally managed to move, Regina’s head snapped towards him. “Not another step, lover boy, or I’ll stop her heart before you can cross the hallway.”
“Let her go.” Killian put his hands out and planted his feet firmly. Robin shifted from where he was still positioned on the floor, forcing Killian to give him a pleading look and shake of his head to stop whatever he was planning.
How could he have allowed himself to become so distracted by calculations of how much longer Liam would need as to not notice how close the malevolent woman had gotten to his Swan. “Please,” he begged. “Let her go.”
“Not until you call your brother off,” she said, tightening her grip around Emma’s heart and causing a pained whimper to fall from Swan’s lips.
“Fine,” Killian conceded, pulling his phone from his pocket. “You win.”
“No,” Emma choked out, the agony in her voice making Killian’s stomach roll and his own heart drop. “Let him finish. He and Belle have to be close to--”
“What do you think will happen to you and Regina if they vanquish me whilst I am in possession of her body and your heart?”
Emma shifted her gaze towards Killian, clearly hoping he would refute the woman’s claim. He couldn’t, though. Honestly, he had no clue what would happen, but was not about to take any chances.
Speed dialing his brother, he muttered under his breath for Liam to answer.
“Killian?” his brother’s confused voice answered.
“Liam, listen to me very carefully,” Killian began firmly with a note of urgency. “I need you and Belle to stop. Don’t do anything to Cora’s remains.” The line went silent and Killian pulled it from his ear to make sure the call was still connected. Turning the speaker feature on, he said, “Are you there, brother?”
“Nevermind that,” Killian said, curtly. “I just need you to stop what you’re doing and get back here.”
“You know I can’t do that, little brother. Cora must be dealt with.”
“Dammit, Liam. I need you to listen to me. She’s taken possession of Regina and is threatening to crush Emma’s heart if you don’t--”
“Bloody hell,” Liam muttered over the line. “How did she--”
“What difference does it make!” Sometimes his brother could be the most infuriating arse. Exasperated, Killian told Liam once more, “You can’t salt and burn the body. Not without risking Regina and Emma’s safety.”
“How do you know she won’t--”
A scuffling sound echoed over the phone, his brother’s muffled voice saying something Killian could not make out.
“Killian?” Belle’s voice anxiously rang out. “We’re headed back to the car now.”
Lights flickering from the living room doorway grabbed Killian’s attention and for a brief second he could make out the silhouette of a man attempting to manifest behind Regina.
Daniel. It had to be.
“Thank you, Belle,” Killian replied, trying to keep his expression and voice even so he did not tip Cora off. “Let me talk to Liam again.”
“I’m here, brother. I’m sorry I didn’t heed your--”
“Yeah. You can be a real dinghy sometimes, you know that?”
“Aye,” Liam replied with a timbre of surprise that he quickly suppressed. “Just like dad, I’m afraid.”
Killian let out an involuntary sigh of relief and hoped the woman, staring intently at him, would chalk it up to him being glad to have finally gotten his brother to relent.
“We’ll see you soon,” Liam said, ending the call.
Stowing his phone back into his pocket, Killian’s gaze shifted to where he could make out a ripple in the air out of the corner of his eye before focusing on the arm still buried in Emma’s chest.
“Hang in there, Swan,” he encouraged, unable to bring himself to look at her face. He did not trust himself to not do something impulsive at the sight of torment or anguish on her gentle features. “It’ll all be over soon.”
“Indeed,” Regina’s voice uttered, and though he barely knew the woman, Killian knew the false syrupy-sweet inflection sounded completely wrong coming from those lips. “It will be over soon, but not the way you think it will.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Robin inquired, slowly getting to his feet with his hands raised in supplication. A brief, flickering glance, first at Killian, then towards the area the ripple had occurred, alerted him to the fact that Robin was aware of the other presence as well. “You said you’d let them go if Killian stopped Liam.”
“And I will,” the woman vowed. “But not without some assurances first.”
“What assurances?”
“That you won’t simply dispose of me later.”
“How do you plan to ensure we don’t?”
“Why…” An amused breath punctuated the pause before she confessed, “By having Robin here wall you all up like I had my husband do to Daniel.”
“You must be mad if you think I would--”
“But you are mad, aren’t you?” she simpered. “Madly in love with my daughter? Willing to do whatever is necessary to protect her?”
“The only way to protect Regina is to free her from you. That much is clear to me now.” Robin straightened his posture and braced his stance, squaring off with the woman he loved even as he vowed to do everything within his power to keep her from further harm.
Scoffing, the woman rolled her eyes. “Daniel said the same thing to me once. He failed and so will you. Besides…” a grimace of pain pinched Regina’s features and for a moment the possessed woman came forward.
“Mother,” she cried out in anguish. “Please… stop.”
As quickly as she’d relented it, Cora took control once more. “I can make this agony for her, unless you do as I say.”
Killian allowed the woman to continue monologuing at Robin, keeping his attention on Emma and her safety. It was taking every ounce of restraint he could muster to remain level-headed and not let his rage or terror get the better of him. All he could do was trust that Daniel - like Robin, like himself - was doing all he could to save the woman he loved.
“Come on, mate,” he muttered under his breath. “What are you waiting for?”
“You won’t… get away with… this,” Emma strained out.
“Aye, Swan’s right,” Killian added. “Do you honestly think no one will notice we’ve disappeared and that there is a newly constructed wall where the old one was? I think that’s something even Neal would clue in on.”
“Oh, my dear boy. Didn’t you know? Neal’s gone.”
Blanching, Killian whipped his head to the side and caught Emma’s guilt-filled eye. “What? Is that true, love?”
Disgusted, Cora’s hand tightened within Emma’s chest, forcing Swan’s gaze to break away and fall back to the floor as a sob audibly caught in the back of her throat.
“Stop!” Killian demanded. “Is this really how you want your daughter to remember you? Is this truly what you want your legacy to be?”
“Don’t you dare speak to me of legacy,” the vengeful woman spat. “My legacy was secure, my memory safe with Regina until this little trollop undercovered my secret. If not for her--”
The lights around them dimmed and the atmosphere began to crackle. A flash of trepidation crossed Regina’s face, but it was quickly replaced by Cora’s smug countenance.
“We both know you lack the conviction to do what you must in order to best me.”
It took Killian a moment to realize she wasn’t speaking to any of them, that she was addressing Daniel and had obviously been aware of him this entire time.
“You are weak. You’ve always been weak.”
Stepping forward, Killian silenced her vitriolic tirade. “Don’t listen to her, Daniel! Love is stronger than any force on this earth. Do what you must to save the women we love.”
The startled expression resonating from Regina’s face made something in Killian’s mind click. He knew what Daniel needed.
“I would gladly risk my life for two things: love and revenge.” Spreading his arms out wide, he offered, “Take all that you need, Daniel.”
“Killian, no!” Emma wailed, a tear slipping down her cheek. “Don’t do this!”
The spectre faintly began to form in front of him. Daniel’s soft eyes locked on to his, waiting for confirmation which he gave with a resolved nod before bracing himself as best he could. Daniel’s ghostly arm thrust forward, the intrusion into Killian’s chest unlike anything he’d ever felt in his life. Each beat of his heart strengthened Daniel, allowing him to fully manifest.
“No. Stop!” Cora protested from Regina’s lips. “Stop or I’ll--”
Her words were cut off when Daniel grabbed Cora’s ghostly wrist with his other hand. With a firm pull he tore the spirit free from Regina, who teetered on her heels before losing consciousness and falling towards the floor.
“Regina!” Robin lunged forward and mercifully caught her, lowering her carefully to the ground.
With his hand still wrapped around Killian’s heart, Daniel tightened his grip on Cora’s wrist, her hand still precariously wrapped around Emma’s heart which made Killian’s clench without any additional pressure from Daniel.
“That doesn’t belong to you,” Daniel stated, putting a greater squeeze on the woman’s wrist until she finally let go of Emma’s heart with a pained yelp.
Thankfully, Daniel released Killian in time for him to catch Emma, cradling her in his arms as they both collapsed to the floor. Once safely out of harm’s way, he dug out his phone and dialed Liam.
“Brother?”
“Now, Liam!”
A roar filled the hallway, flames bursting out from where Cora’s ghost stood. Her shriek pierced Killian’s ears and he quickly pressed his hands over Emma’s, hoping to shield her from the horror. Burying her face into his chest, Swan’s grip tightened, balling his shirt into her fists. When the heat of the ghostly fire subsided, they both looked at one another, their chests heaving from adrenaline as they fought to catch their breaths.
“Are you all right, love?” Killian asked on an exhale, wetting his lips in a vain attempt to bring moisture back to his mouth.
“I-I think so,” she answered, breathlessly.
Her eyes dipped to his lips then flicked back up, staring at him through her lashes. They held each other’s gaze for several erratic beats of Killian’s heart before slowly moving in closer. Eyes fluttering shut, Emma’s mouth was about to meet his when a soft gasp broke the moment and stole both their attention.
“Daniel?” Regina, having regained consciousness, sat up and stared teary-eyed at the ghost of her long lost love. “Is that… Is it really you?”
Robin helped her to her feet, steadying her as she approached Daniel’s spectral form. Not wishing to be any more intrusive than they already were, Killian and Emma remained seated on the floor of the hallway. With his Swan wrapped willingly in his arms, Killian held his breath at the beauty and heartbreak of this long overdue moment.
“Regina,” Daniel whispered. “I’m so sorry. For everything. I never… I never would have left you willingly and I… I’m sorry you had to find out the truth like that. I never wanted you to find out about your mother this way.”
“Oh, Daniel,” Regina replied, tearily. “You have nothing to apologize for. I’m the one who owes you an apology. I’m sorry I doubted you. That I doubted our love. I should have known better. I should have never taken my mother’s word over--”
“I don’t blame you for doubting,” he said. “I don’t think either of us ever considered she’d go to the lengths she did to keep us apart.”
Though it was evident he wanted to spare her the details, Regina would not be deterred, insisting he tell her the full truth of what had happened. Cora had tried to buy him off, that much was true. She’d handed him a check; the amount wasn’t important, no amount she could ever offer would have been enough, and he had told her as much. Ripping up the check, he’d tossed the pieces at her feet before turning to head down into the cellar. The next thing he knew he was lying at the bottom of the stairs, his neck broken, and his life quickly slipping away.
“My last thoughts were of you, Regina. I need you to know that. I need you to know that I have never stopped loving you.”
“Daniel, I…” Regina’s chest shuddered from a suppressed sob, tears spilling over her lashes and streaking her mascara down her cheeks.
“I haven’t been able to move on, knowing what you must have thought. I couldn’t be at peace until you knew the truth.”
“I love you, too, Daniel,” she whispered. “I hope you can find peace now. You deserve it.”
“There’s only one thing more keeping me here,” he said. “I need you to do something for me.”
“Anything.”
Reaching out as though he were cupping her cheek, Daniel leaned in, bringing his forehead close to hers. “I need you to open yourself up to love again, Regina. You deserve love. You are loved.” Pulling back, Daniel turned his face towards Robin and smiled at the man. “Isn’t she?”
“Aye,” Robin affirmed, gazingly lovingly at the woman beside him. “That she is.”
“Embrace it, Regina,” Daniel urged. “Embrace love. Embrace happiness. It isn’t too late for you to have the life I wanted for you. Promise me you’ll open your heart and love again.”
Pursing her lips together in order to keep some semblance of composure, Regina reached over and took Robin’s hand. Slowly, she lifted her eyes to meet his, smiled, and said, “I promise.”
Robin beamed and pulled her into his arms, wrapping her tight in his embrace. Allowing them a moment, and probably a bit conflicted with seeing the woman he loved with another man, Daniel made his way over to Killian and Emma and stood over them.
“Thank you, Emma,” he said. “And you, Killian. If not for the two of you and Liam and all the others who helped, this never would have been possible.”
“Don’t mention it, mate,” Killian replied, wishing he could shake the man’s hand.
“I’m so happy it all worked out,” Emma said. “I’m just so sorry your life was cut short. It’s not fair.”
Daniel shrugged. “Life is like that sometimes. Which is why it is important to not squander it; take hold of every moment and cherish it. Remember that, won’t you?”
“Aye. We will.”
A content and fulfilled look rested upon Daniel’s face and he closed his eyes. “I can go now.”
“Daniel,” Regina called out, clearly not ready to say good-bye.
“It’s okay,” he assured her. “I’ll always be with you in some way.” With one last glance at Robin, he said, “Take care of our girl.”
“I will, mate. I promise.”
A soft glow began to envelop Daniel, his eyes locked with Regina’s until it became too bright for her to hold his gaze.
“I love you, Regina,” he said, his voice faint as the glow started to dim.
“Good-bye, Daniel,” Regina replied as the light fully extinguished, taking Daniel’s spirit with it.
Regina collapsed into Robin’s arms and sobbed. Tears rolled down Emma’s face and Killian had to wipe away his own as they watched Robin rock the woman he loved in his arms. When she had finally exhausted her tears, Regina turned and apologized. Killian assisted Emma off the floor and the four of them stood there in the hallway awkwardly.
Scratching behind his ear, Killian opened his mouth, still unsure of what to say, when the front door burst open. In rushed Liam and Belle, soot covered and bedraggled.
“Is everyone all right?” Liam inquired, out of breath. “What did we miss?”
~/~
Killian laid awake on the pull-out, staring up at the ceiling as he replayed the events of the evening in his mind. Every fear and nightmare fueled terror had coursed through him the entire time Cora had held Emma’s heart in her grasp. How he’d managed to keep his wits about him with the image of her heart being stopped by that ghostly hand plaguing him from all sides of his dark imaginings, he’d never know. It had taken a Herculean effort to relinquish her from his arms after Liam and Belle had arrived and they’d all adjourned to the living room.
The next few hours had been torture for him as he sat on the other side of the room from her, still shaken by what could have happened, still not convinced she had come out of the deadly encounter unscathed. He did his best to hide it, though, giving his account of things and answering questions as they all got up to speed on what had happened. When the conversation turned to Regina sharing memories of Daniel and her time spent at the carriage house in her youth, Killian stole too many glances at his Swan to count, but enough to have gained the attention of Robin who surmised they were close to overstaying their welcome.
After bidding the couple farewell with promises to keep in touch, Liam had pulled him aside to discuss what was next for the Jones brothers, allowing Emma to quickly say goodnight and escape to her room. Killian had snapped at his brother, questioning him as to why the topic could not wait until morning, only to have his brother inform him that he would not be there in the morning.
He would be staying the night with Miss French.
Killian had almost punched the shit-eating grin off his brother’s face.
He should have punched the shit-eating grin off his brother’s face.
He also should have gone up to check on Emma after Liam and Belle had left, but decided instead to give her some space. It was the gentlemanly thing to do.
It was the cowardly thing to do. He was being a coward, and he knew it. A coward, and a fool, and a complete and hopeless--
The creak of the stairs drew him from his self-depracating thoughts and he sat up. Hearing a cabinet door open and close from the kitchen, he tossed back the covers and reached for his sweat pants, pulling them on as he made his way to the door. Peering out across the corridor, he could make out Emma leaning against the counter as she sipped from a glass of water. Not wishing to startle her, he yawned loudly and let his feet fall heavy on the wood floors as he approached the kitchen.
“Trouble sleeping?” he asked, running a hand through his hair as though he were trying to tame his bedhead.
“Sorry if I woke you,” she said, cupping the glass in her hands, her eyes trained on its rim.
“You didn’t.” Reaching out, he took the glass from her and set it on the counter. “Out with it, love. I can tell something is bothering you.”
Whipping her head up, she looked at him askew. “How? How could you possibly know something’s--”
“I’ve told you before,” he reminded, cutting her off and enjoying how it irritated her. “You’re an open book.”
A scoff huffed from her chest and she rolled her eyes at him. “Well, if you must know…” she began, scuffing the floor with her foot as she quietly muttered, “It’s too quiet.”
“Come again?”
“It’s too quiet,” she repeated, louder and a bit exasperated. “I know it’s ridiculous that it bothers me, but the house is too quiet. Too still. I never noticed before, but I think I’d grown accustomed to having…”
“Another presence in the house?” he offered, finishing her thought for her.
“Yeah. I guess.” Crossing her arms over her chest, she gave a small shrug and confessed, “I kind of miss Daniel.”
“I don’t think that’s ridiculous at all,” he told her as he leaned against the counter across from her. “His energy was here for a long time. Makes sense that its absence would be felt.”
“I suppose so.” Letting out a deep exhale, she uncrossed her arms and placed her hands on the edge of the counter, next to her hips. When his gaze lifted from lingering on her exposed hip bone, he was met with a knowing smirk and a suspect look. “So, what’s got you up this late?”
It was Killian’s turn to shrug and avoid making eye contact. “Just some thoughts that won’t let me be.”
“Such as?”
Peeking up at her, he found the courage to ask the question that had been plaguing him all night. “Is it true that Neal’s gone?”
Another long exhale preceded her answer. “Yes. He’s gone.”
“When? Why didn’t you say anything?”
“We had it out after the whole possession thing,” she told him. “He gave me an ultimatum and I told him to get out.” She shifted her weight and pushed her hair behind her shoulder, taking a beat before admitting, “I’ve known for a long time that things needed to end with him, I just… I guess I felt too embarrassed to say anything. Besides… it wasn’t like we didn’t have enough going on.”
“True,” Killian agreed with a note of humor. “I am sorry you felt as though you couldn’t confide in me. And for what it’s worth, I…”
He couldn’t bring himself to finish the platitude. He wasn’t the least bit sorry that Neal was no longer in the picture, and they both knew it.
“Are you all right?”
“I am,” she assured him. “Like I said, it was long past time.”
Killian wanted to press her for more, to ask what this might mean for them. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t conflicted about what came next, and therefore waited for her to take the lead.
“So, Liam is shacking up with Belle,” she said after a prolonged bout of silence. Seemingly testing the waters for different discussion altogether, she asked, “Does that mean you guys will be stopping into town on a regular basis?”
“Actually,” Killian replied, wading out into said waters, “Liam suggested we stick around for a while. It seems Miss French has a number of potential cases my brother thinks we should look into.”
Her teeth had been worrying her lip since she finished asking her previous question, and only relinquished their hold so she could inquire, “And what did you tell him?”
He wished she had met him halfway into the depths. “I told him I wasn’t sure.” When her face fell he quickly moved off the counter and took her hands in his. “Don’t misunderstand me, love. There’s nothing I want more than to stay here… with you.” Reaching up, he cupped her face and stroked her cheek with his thumb. “I just want to do this right. I don’t want to finally have my second chance and then end up being the rebound g--”
The urgent press of her lips against his cut off his words, and he’d never been so thrilled to be interrupted in all his life.
He’d only just begun to respond when she pulled away, but only far enough so she could tell him, “Neal was the rebound guy. You are the guy, Killian.”
His mouth crashed against hers and with very little prodding on his part, she climbed up to sit atop the counter. Prompting her knees to open for him, he moved into the space between her thighs and slipped a hand up her back beneath her (his) shirt. He groaned at the feel of her soft, warm skin as their lips continued to slant and slide against the others, their tongues tangled together, and their teeth teased and taunted with playful nips along jawlines and earlobes.
Coming up for air, foreheads pressed together, the two tried to catch their breath while trading soft smiles and doey-eyed looks with one another.
“You know how I said that without the ghosts the house is a little too quiet for my liking?”
“Aye,” Killian panted. “What do you suggest we do about that?”
“Well…” Emma drawled, applying a sultry timbre to her tone as she slid her arms around his neck. “I was thinking you could join me upstairs so we could make things go bump in the night.”
Killian chuckled and leaned in to kiss her again. “I thought you’d never ask.” he murmured against her lips, promising, “I’ll have you moaning louder than any spirit ever could.”
“And I’ll have you--” she said between kisses. “--thinking you’ve died and gone to heaven.”
“Too late for that, I’m afraid,” he confessed into the pulse point below her ear, moaning at the way it made her shudder in his arms. “After this, I’ll be harder to get rid of than any haunting.”
“Good.” Emma gave him a quick shove and hopped off the counter. Grabbing his hand, she led him out of the kitchen and cheekily added over her shoulder, “That’s the kind of being ghosted I can live with.”
With a wide smile, Killian eagerly followed his Swan up to her bedroom where the two of them enthusiastically expressed their passion for one another, loud enough to wake the… well, you know.
The End
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(Please be advised that I only keep one tag list for all fic updates and new works. If at any time you wish to be removed, just shoot me an ask or a DM. No worries.)
A HUGE THANK YOU TO @snowbellewells FOR THIS INCREDIBLE ART.
THIS IS/WILL BE MATURE.
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | AO3
Tagging: @anmylica, @deckerstarblanche, @elfiola, @goforlaunchcee, @jonesfandomfanatic, @jrob64, @kmomof4, @pirateswhore, @stahlop, @teamhook, @tiganasummertree, @undercaffinatednightmare, @xarandomdreamx, @zaharadessert (let me know if you want to be added or dropped)
Emma’s quiet moan vibrated softly against his lips; her body leaned heavily into his, her heart pounding against his chest. He had imagined her in his arms countless times. The reality stole the breath from him. The wine on her lips was sweeter than any future he could have wished for.
He paused for air, their lips parting in a quiet whimper. He rested his forehead against hers, their panting breaths meeting in the narrow space between them. He met her questioning gaze with his own, but without his usual protections. Her features softened from curiosity to understanding. She pulled him into her; her kiss was softer, a gentle acceptance of the grief and brokenness he knew she saw in him.
His eyes prickled momentarily at the beautiful ache that burned through his chest. She saw him and was knowingly choosing him despite his darkness and the weight he carried. He poured his gratitude into their kiss, his thumb sweeping across her cheek.
He pulled her tighter and lifted her off the floor enough to carry her to the bed. The bed dipped beneath him as he climbed onto the bed after her. She shifted on the bed, her hand tugging at his trousers- a demanding invitation for a need he was desperate to meet.
He kept his eyes trained on her, ensuring the mirage wouldn’t disappear, and followed her to the headboard. Their eyes met again. He sat back on his knees, straddling her without putting his weight on her just yet. She bit her bottom lip as she took in all of him, something tender alongside the desire in her eyes.
He stilled, committing the sight of her — hungry for him, lip caught in her teeth— to memory.
“Killian.” His name was a command to continue.
She reached out, her fingers gently running along his sides under his shirt.
He lowered himself down - his arms on either side of her - to trail kisses along her neck, her shoulders, her cheeks. A beginning to the map he wanted to chart of her. Her fingers dug into his shoulders as if pulling them closer together. Appreciation and awe — something close to reverence — whispered carefully into her skin.
His shirt had tangled as she ran her hands along his back. He propped on his forearm and tugged it off in a quick motion, relieving them of the constraint.
Smiling, Emma reached for her own top and, with a bit of wiggling, pulled it off without repositioning them. He held her gaze a moment longer before swooping down to capture a nipple in his mouth. Her hand was a sudden pressure on the back of his head as he rolled his tongue and explored.
The sound she made nearly undid him. He released a breath, her skin prickling as the warmth of it faded. She arched into him, a plea. He answered quickly, scraping his teeth along the sensitive skin. Her reply - arching and shifting beneath him so much he rolled his hips against hers to keep them both steady.
She drew in a quick breath.
Killian froze, eyes on hers, trying to translate the reaction.
Her eyes danced with mischief, and she had pulled that lip under her teeth again. Something in his chest loosened and sent heat rushing low in his stomach.
Then, she rocked her hips slowly, intentionally rubbing against the hardness that was undeniable in their new position.
A low growl vibrated through his chest.
Emma raised an eyebrow and cocked her head. Then, with a proud, mischievous smile, she repeated the motion. Another sound escaped him without his bidding, and he shook his head and let out a slow exhale.
“Minx,” he muttered.
“I’m not flirting, Captain Jones,” Emma chided softly. “I want you. Now.”
“If you wish it, so it shall be.” He studied her as carefully as he had the first time he’d spoken those words.
“I do.” There was no hesitation as she reached to begin removing what was left of her clothing. He did the same, matching her layer for layer, eyes lost in hers.
He was bare before her as she lay before him. The trust blanketing this moment, the trust she was gifting him, stole his breath. It was beauty unlike anything he had ever known. Compelled as he was to acknowledge how sacred the moment felt, he could not find the right words.
She opened her legs to him and pulled him back into her arms. He rested on his elbows, the full force of his attention on her face, as he slowly pushed their bodies together. The throaty sound she released when he was fully rested in her changed him in ways he didn’t understand. He would spend a lifetime trying to hear that again.
Her eyes fluttered open, locking with his, and his heart stopped at the shattered expression she shared with him. She didn’t blink or turn away, no shields locked into place. She interlocked her fingers with his and held his gaze as he slowly began to move and build up the pace.
§§§§ §§§§ §§§§
They lay together in a tangle of limbs. Emma traced scratches along Killian’s chest and arms idly as he drifted in and out of sleep. She couldn’t recall a time her heart felt so light and so full.
“You’re still here,” Killian murmured.
“Mhmm,” Emma confirmed.
“At the end of it all.”
“We set sail in the morning,” Emma corrected, “This is only our beginning.”
New Story: "Finding A Home" (a ridiculously belated birthday fic for @jrob64)
This fic was meant to be Joni's birthday gift last year, and there is no good excuse for why it has taken me this long to write a single fluffy one shot! Still, I hope she will enjoy it - late as it is - and that anyone else who stumbles across it will like it too!
Without further adieu, enjoy some Swan Believer goodness, an adorable puppy (in honor of Joni's own Cocoa), and veterinarian Killian!
(A non-magic Modern AU in which Emma and Henry are living in Boston
A rainy night brings an injured stray puppy into their lives, as well as the handsome veterinarian who helps them make their newest addition a happy, healthy member of their home… and he just might find himself a place there as well!)
Can also be read on AO3 here, if that is your preference
A fic birthday gift for @jrob64 (Joni)
by: @snowbellewells
Watching the windshield wipers swish back and forth across her vision frenetically, just barely keeping her view through the windshield clear enough to drive, Emma Swan had to concentrate on the road ahead of her as best she could to get herself and Henry home again safely. The route from his junior high school to their Hyde Park neighborhood was as familiar as the back of her hand after driving the same course most days for almost two years now, but that didn’t make the current conditions any less dicey once the grey clouds and the dense humidity that had hung over their heads all day had decided to break at last.
They had just pulled off the main thoroughfare onto the quieter street that led to their two-story rental when Henry shot forward suddenly with a cry of alarm. His desperate “Stop!” and outstretched hand had Emma stomping the brake without even knowing why; her heart catapulting up to lodge in her throat as a protective arm swung out on instinct across Henry’s chest.
“Henry!? Wha -?” her eyes darted over to her son, who stared anxiously out into the pelting rain before them, then followed his gaze, trying to locate whatever had caused him such alarm. When she did see, her words trailed off, and she caught her breath, immediately flicking on the car’s emergency blinkers and searching behind her on the backseat for the umbrella, not sure she wouldn’t be blinded otherwise once she stepped into the downpour.
Her hand on the door latch, Emma turned to look seriously into her son’s eyes. “Stay here. It’s too bad out, and someone might not see you. I’m just going to check.”
Henry nodded his understanding; teenager though he might be, he had yet to cease listening to her, or to ignore or challenge her authority as the horror stories of other parents had led her to believe he might. His wide, brown eyes that usually sparkled with mischief were solemn instead as he asked, “Mom, do you think it’s alright?”
Not at all sure of the answer to that question until she could get closer, she shook her head, refusing to lie to him, even to be comforting. “I don’t know yet, Kid. Just sit tight, and we’ll find out, okay?”
She was in the pounding rain then, praying her umbrella wouldn’t collapse or blow inside out, and hurrying over to the spot where Henry’s sharp eyes had led her to glimpse a limping blur of dark fur only briefly before it had seemed to collapse in a lump at the road’s edge. She had thought brightly golden eyes peered at them for a moment out of the early evening gloom and the watery onslaught, but now she wasn’t as sure. She dreaded going back to the car to tell Henry either that she couldn’t find the small animal they had nearly hit, or that it was too late for them to help it, so she pressed on. Emma firmly ignored the little voice in the back of her mind that goaded she simply didn’t want to leave some pitiful lost creature behind like she had been left so often.
At last, peering through sheets of rain amidst the tall weeds bordering the road, Emma finally found what she was seeking. There, huddled in the scrubby grass near the side ditch, was a soaked, bedraggled mound of matted and curly dark brown fur wetted down by the continuous beating rain. Squinting through the torrent and trying to push back the sopping strings of her hair so she could see better, Emma peered at the barely moving ball now clearly identifiable as the small dog she had feared it would be. Checking both ways for oncoming traffic again, Emma pushed herself forward, despite the hesitation at what she might see.
Crouching by the side of the road, Emma reached out tentatively, not wanting to get herself scratched or bitten by a frightened animal, but also knowing that the longer she lingered with her car in the way, the more annoyed and dangerous she would make any other traffic she blocked. When she touched the wet fur, a breath of relief escaped her upon also feeling shuddering tremors beneath her hand as they shook the small body. The pup - it must still be quite young, or a relatively small breed of dog - was also obviously breathing, as she could see a rise and fall of its side now that she was nearer and closer to eye level. She hesitated to pick it up, though, even to get it to the car, warmth, and help. Emma could easily surmise that animals were enough like people that jostling the poor thing without knowing what might be broken or punctured inside was not the best idea.
Still, ‘needs must’, she decided practically and with a quick look to see that there were now sets of headlights stopped behind her own, honking horns and questioning calls beginning to ring out on the air, Emma moved quickly and carefully; there was nothing else for it. Dropping the umbrella and shrugging out of her jacket, she laid the fabric over the shivering little dog and wrapped it around the quaking form, trying to slip her arms under while jarring it as little as possible.
Scrambling to her feet once more, she hurried back to the vehicle, completely drenched and already beginning to shiver. Henry had been anxiously watching and was already leaning across to open the door for her.
His eyes were wide, and his lower lip trembled a bit against his determined show of strength as Emma slipped in and gently laid the soppy, sweater-wrapped bundle of puppy across his lap. She focused on her son’s worried, “Were we in time? He isn’t… dead, is he?” rather than the growing cacophony she drowned out by slamming the door closed behind her and putting the VW back in drive.
“He’s still fighting, Kid,” Emma assured as they started forward again. The gulping swallow he’d had to take in the middle of his question had torn at her. Her son was so hopeful and empathetic, traits she wished she still possessed, and which she intended to keep him from losing, if it was at all within her power. She might come to regret her roadside rescue attempt yet, if the dog didn’t make it. She would be sad, of course, but she could already see that it would break Henry’s young heart.
Hoping to distract him, even slightly, with a purpose, Emma glanced over before focusing back on the road, then asked, “Have you noticed a veterinary clinic along this road, Henry? Or have we already passed it? Do you remember?”
His brown eyes lit up eagerly, pleased to have an answer that might help. “Yeah, there is! Not far past that pharmacy on the right, remember? One street over from us?” He was nodding emphatically even as he struggled to keep the rest of his body still, gently stroking the wet head beneath his hand.
Emma nodded grimly, glad her recollection had been right; their surprise passenger needed more help than she knew how to give, as soon as they could get it. “Then let’s just hope they’re still open and ready to go in this storm,” she said grimly, hands clutching the wheel just a bit tighter.
Henry nodded his agreement, but neither of them said anything else for several minutes as they drove cautiously, peering through the rain still slicking the windshield.
“There!” Henry called out again. His finger pointed ahead to a square, white building with a modest parking lot, thankfully illuminated by a lighted sign proclaiming: Park View Animal Hospital: 24 Hour Emergency Service.
“Finally,” Emma breathed out in a whoosh, her shoulders slumping gratefully for just a moment’s release of tension as they came to a stop in a parking space. Then, she was hurrying around to Henry’s side, taking the dog from Henry’s lap, and trying to carry it smoothly toward the front door as Henry ran ahead to open it.
Their entrance was a little dramatic for her liking, as they had both just managed to stop in the entryway, when a strong gust of wind pulled the door handle from Henry’s grasp and slammed it closed behind them with a window-rattling clap of thunder as punctuation. They were already starting to leave a puddle on the linoleum floor, Emma realized as she looked around sheepishly, glad the waiting area seemed largely empty.
The young woman at the admitting desk jumped up with an exclamation of surprise at their sudden entrance, but a more welcoming smile quickly graced her countenance as she rounded the counter behind which she sat, rapped smartly on a closed office door at the start of the hall leading further into the building, and greeted them with a welcoming smile. She was tall and slight, moving with a willowy grace that was immediately arresting. Her voice was low and soothing, and her straight, white teeth stood out even more clearly against her deeply tanned face and jet black hair worn coiled in two braids around the crown of her head. Despite the casual beauty and bearing that might have been rather intimidating, her gentle voice put Emma and Henry both at ease from the first words. “My, what a storm we’re having out there! Thank goodness you arrived safely. I’m TL, the vet tech and after-hours receptionist. What seems to be the problem?”
She indicated the shaking bundle in Emma’s arms, brow furrowed with concern. Emma stepped forward quickly to let the capable-looking woman see for herself. She was about to explain how they had found the poor dog, and what little she knew of the situation, when the office door opened, and a man in scrubs and a white lab coat stepped out to meet them, summoned by his assistant’s knock, no doubt. One look, and all of Emma’s words seemed to evaporate on her tongue. For several long seconds, she was dumbstruck- much as she hated to admit it, even to herself - and she swore her knees went as watery as jello for an embarrassing few moments.
Bright, intelligent, and somehow searing blue eyes arrested her, and in the strange interim, Henry piped up quickly. Emma blinked to clear her vision of the man’s striking looks, thankfully letting Henry ramble for a moment while she gathered her wits. If it seemed the startling blue depths of that gaze twinkled a bit with controlled mirth at her apparently obvious predicament, Emma tried not to dwell on it. By that time, her son was finishing his spiel with, “...so Mom got him in the car - I held him! - and we came here. Can you help him?”
A warm, deep rumble of an easy laugh came from the dark-haired, deliciously scruffy man before them as his eyes shifted from hers to Henry’s with a reassuring grin. “Well, that’s quite a request, Lad, but I will certainly do my best.” He gestured them further into the clinic to where they could just see an open exam room waiting beyond. “Come, let’s bring him in and see what can be done.”
When they stopped before a tall, sterile lab table, Emma rather gratefully laid the trembling bundle of wet, brownish, curly fur on its surface. Standing before the gorgeous man who was already murmuring low, soothing words to the frightened and vulnerable creature on his table and running large, capable hands over the poor dog’s slight form, seeking unseen injuries, caused her to shiver in response almost as much as the damp material clinging to the front of her body. The reverberations of his soft crooning ran through her, making Emma’s cheeks heat, and she had to seek desperately for something to focus on other than his hands and their deft, gentle touch.
“You alright there, Kid?” she asked her son, diverting her eyes to Henry at her side. Though he was wide-eyed with curiosity and interest in what the doctor was doing for his new four-legged patient, she could also tell by the way he bit his lower lip nervously that Henry was worried for the pup as well, no matter how grown-up and calm he tried to appear. Her boy was already attached to the small dog, even if the whole incident had unfurled so far in less than an hour.
Wordlessly, Henry nodded his assent, but Emma wasn’t completely surprised when his hand reached across, and his fingers slid into hers. Offering a reassuring smile, she squeezed lightly, hoping to offer what comfort she could.
Drawing in a deep, steadying breath, Emma steeled herself to look back up to the veterinarian, praying that she would see some sign of good news on his visage. Granted, she was never one for doling out false hope, and she wanted to prepare herself and Henry if the news was bad. At the same time, without even realizing she had done so, Emma found that she was placing all her hope on the doctor standing before them, anxious for him to prove as exceptional as he appeared.
She was reaching the point of blurting out a demand for information - what he saw, what was happening, what he was going to do - when the dark head bent over the trembling dog in intent examination rose to look into her face seriously, the shocking blue of his gaze bearing an intensity that made her breath catch. A few molasses-thick, long, heated moments passed before the deeply accented voice that had greeted them upon arrival spoke with measured and soothing calm. “Well, Ms. …apologies, I don’t believe we even exchanged names, Lass.”
Emma flushed, ducking her head in an attempt to gather her thoughts with a chuckle. “We did kinda bust in like a whirlwind, didn’t we?” she agreed. “I’m Emma… Emma Swan, and this is my son, Henry.”
The frankly stunning veterinarian smiled warmly, “It’s good to meet you, Ms. Swan, and you, Master Henry,” he added with a playful smile. “I’m Dr. Killian Jones, and I’m very glad TL and I stayed late to take care of the cleaning and filing that never seems to get done during the day. Sometimes when things are this slow, I’m here along ‘on-call’, but I like to have an assistant in the surgery if at all possible. It’s a good thing that you found this little guy and brought him here when you did. With the storm going on out there, being wet, exposed to the elements, and with the temperature dropping for the night, he would have been in an even worse state than you see now.”
Killian Jones was scruffing his hand through the pup’s fur in a way the small canine seemed to thoroughly approve, as his trembling eased, and he was clearly leaning his head into the assured touch of the vet. It wasn’t long before the little critter let out a sort of low huff of relief that caught them all by surprise, making both adults chuckle and releasing a tension between Emma’s shoulder blades that she had hardly noticed she’d been holding.
Eyes wide and a hopeful grin completely lighting his face, Henry pressed forward then, unable to keep from reaching out to touch their little stowaway as well. “You said he could be a lot worse. That means you can help him, right? And he’s going to be okay?”
The dark head nodded with firm certainty as Dr. Jones smiled once more, full of express reassurances for her son that couldn’t fail to melt Emma’s heart. “Aye, Lad, I should indeed be able to fix our furry friend right up, almost as good as new.”
Patient and kind as he had been throughout their encounter with him, Dr. Jones guided Henry’s hand along the small form, easing the youngster to be able to feel what his experienced senses had uncovered. “You see here?” he instructed Henry as he deftly eased the shorter fingers and uncertain smaller hand along with his own. “Feel where that uneven place is?” The dog gave a low whimper, but didn’t move or snap, proving the trust this man had already inspired in his charge.
Henry nodded, no sound escaping him, though his mouth had fallen open in awe.
“Something hit him there and broke that bone. Thankfully, it feels like a clean break rather than several scattered fragments. I should be able to reset it and hold it still with a cast while it is healing, much like we would do for a person’s broken arm or leg. With a little time and good care, he should mend with no lasting adverse effects.”
Once her son seemed satisfied, Dr. Killian Jones did not waste much more time, no doubt anxious to see that the small creature wasn’t hurting any longer than necessary. Easily giving the dog an anesthetic and stroking a hand almost tenderly over his back as they waited for it to take effect, he explained in brief and simple terms what he would do and assured them that it was a standard and common procedure.
When he confirmed minutes later that it was time, TL appeared at Emma’s elbow with a friendly smile to show them back to the waiting room before she returned to assist her boss. The other woman seemed to sense her ricocheting thoughts and patted her shoulder warmly. She gave Emma a kindly smile, ruffling Henry’s hair playfully as she offered, “Try not to worry. The doc’s really good at what he does, and he’ll get the little guy all fixed up as soon as possible.” The twinkling sweetness in her gaze was reassuring before she vanished into the surgery, and they were left to wait.
Emma knew she was placing a lot of faith in someone she’d perhaps only spoken to for a total of ten minutes. Yet, even in that scant amount of time, Dr. Killian Jones had engendered a level of confidence that she rarely gifted anyone. Not only did he seem competent and professional, but there was a warmth in his manner that felt more than the minimum needed for his job; the caring he had shown both the injured animal and her young son had been genuine, and it drew her in as little else would.
Still, she couldn’t help feeling almost jittery as she and Henry sat together in the waiting room. Unlike her son, who seemed oddly at ease now, despite his earlier nerves. It was as if Dr. Jones’ patient explanation and the time he had taken to show Henry what had happened to the pup and how it could be repaired had put most of her boy’s fears to rest. Instead, she was the one fidgeting in her seat, biting her lower lip, and twisting the ends of her hair anxiously. What if some unexpected complication arose in surgery? If whatever was broken inside the small canine body was worse than first projected? Pragmatist she might try to be, telling herself that plain realism protected her son along with herself, but the puppy had already scratched at least two paws into her heart as well. If the kindly veterinarian could not do what he had seemed imminently certain of accomplishing, she would be more crushed than she’d like to admit - little boy in tow or not.
Thankfully, they weren’t left waiting an inordinate length of time, and the waiting room remained empty and quiet. The patter of rain and swirl of wind outside sounded almost soothing overhead and all around them as they waited, Henry spread out and did the small amount of homework he had before his eyelids began to droop lower, then flicked back open again, his head nodding drowsily where he sat. Though Emma knew her son wanted to keep vigil for the small dog that had somehow already become “theirs”, she could also tell that sleep was pulling at him more and more insistently.
After nearly three hours, the doors into the clinic’s operating bay opened, and Emma immediately shot to her feet without hesitation. Henry snapped upright as well, wide awake again. Dr. Jones strode toward them with a measured assurance that helped to soothe both mother and son’s clear anxiety even before he spoke.
A gentle smile tilted the corners of his mouth up as he focused first on the young man gazing up at him. “You’ve one tough little furball back there, Lad. He hung in just as we’d hoped, and he’s sleeping now. His body is on the mend as we speak. It won’t be immediate,” he ended with a serious note of caution, “but he will recover.”
Letting out a huge whoosh of air, Henry surged forward in a move that startled both adults momentarily, and wrapped his arms tightly around the vet’s torso, his face mostly hidden in the lab coat and his voice muffled as he offered his fervent thanks.
“That’s not necessary at all, Master Henry,” the doctor replied, looking up at Emma uncertainly for direction, even as his hand came up to pat the boy’s shoulder. “I would never leave an animal hurting if it was within my power to help. I’m merely grateful that compassionate people like yourself and your mother,” here his warm eyes reached across the few feet between them to caress Emma, “brought him to receive the help he needed.”
Emma sucked in a steadying breath, unable to fully ignore the heat that ran through her veins and spread in her stomach, rising to make her heart flutter erratically. She didn’t really feel she had done anything that exceptional, but it would take a stronger woman than she to turn from basking in his obvious favor. Knowing that she must be blushing furiously, she dropped his gaze and could barely meet Henry’s curious eyes either.
As if sensing that he’d embarrassed her slightly, Dr. Jones cleared his throat and pressed forward, changing their focus slightly. “I understand the little guy is not your dog,” he began carefully, “but when he wakes, do I need to call the local shelter? Or are you - “ his words trailed off awkwardly, needing to make arrangements for his small patient’s further recuperation, but clearly not wanting to exert pressure or guilt on them either.
He had read the situation correctly; Emma knew there was no withdrawing their investment in the pup’s life now. Henry’s head turned wildly toward her, his whole face lit with joy when he heard her response. “Oh, he’s coming home with us when he’s able,” she assured. “I think he’s ours now.”
She couldn’t even bring herself to mind the sort of rollercoaster her emotions had been on over the last few hours - not when Henry was bouncing with glee and practically dancing around her, nor at hearing the pleasant chuckle that rumbled through the veterinarian’s chest at her answer and the boy’s reaction.
Leaning in to speak lowly in her ear, Killian Jones murmured, “I did have a feeling that might be the case.”
She huffed playfully and attempted to give him serious side eye in response to the cheeky wink and crooked grin that had accompanied his words, but she wasn’t truly upset, and they both knew it.
By the time she and Henry made their way out the door some thirty minutes later, they had a list of preparations to make and supplies to purchase for the incoming member of their family, but somehow Emma’s heart still felt remarkably lighter.
~~ 🐾 ~~
The next day was Saturday, thankfully, because Henry was anxious to go and get their new pet from the very moment he woke. Emma had expected no less and wanted to see the furry little guy herself, especially now that he wouldn’t be soaking, scared, and in pain. She’d had breakfast ready and waiting and managed to get Henry to sit still long enough to eat it and then go to get dressed. They did still have to stop at the pet supply, as it had been late and still raining the night before, but she solemnly promised her son they would be at the animal hospital before noon.
When they walked through the clinic’s front entrance, they were once again greeted by Nurse TL behind the large reception desk. The tall, statuesque woman again gave lie to the sort of model serious beauty first impressions would suggest. There was a mischievous twinkle in her eye and a knowing smile on her lips that immediately made Emma curious.
“Welcome back, Swans,” she chirped enthusiastically, before adding, “I’m not sure who’s more excited to see you, your new puppy or Dr. Jones.”
Henry looked baffled by her words; his brow crinkling as his head tilted to the side, studying the veterinary assistant as he tried to work out her meaning. “Why would Dr. Jones be excited?” he asked curiously.
Giving Emma another significant look that had a blush climbing her neck, the raven-haired young woman merely smiled at Emma’s son sweetly and answered with complete innocence. “Well, naturally, the Doc is excited to see a dog who had no home going to people who will love and take care of him the way he deserves. I’m excited too; that’s always a happy thing to see.”
Though Emma was more than a bit mortified to have apparently been so obvious in her reaction to whatever current had been running between herself and Killian Jones the day before, she was at least grateful the other woman had kept her teasing subtle enough not to make Henry aware.
Thankfully, Emma’s embarrassment was interrupted by the door from the surgery in the back opening, and their new pup entering, followed by Dr. Jones holding a lead for him. “Look who couldn’t wait to see you this morning!” the vet greeted cheerfully, beaming at mother and son both before unclipping the lead and allowing the small dog to trot disjointedly right for Henry, who dropped to his knees with open arms to meet him.
Granted, the dog was not untouched by the ordeal he had weathered the day before. The fur on one rear flank was shaved where Dr. Jones had made the incision for surgery, and his back leg was completely encased in a cast. His gait as he moved across the room was limping and uneven, but not truly slowing him down. Emma couldn’t help the smile that broke across her face at the sight of the little guy’s tongue lolling and his tail wagging as he nuzzled into Henry’s affectionate touch. Clearly, he was glad to see them, not trembling, snarling, or pulling away, nor giving any indication that he associated them at all with his recent trauma.
Moving toward the doctor, who had followed his four-legged patient to stand before them and was beaming down at the heartwarming scene the boy and dog made together, Emma looked up into Killian Jones’ eyes intently. Once they were face-to-face, she hoped that her sincerity would be made manifest. “Wow, he looks like he’s doing great. I don’t even know how to thank you properly. Henry - and I - are just relieved to see he’s okay.”
Dr. Jones dipped his head in a quick nod of acknowledgement and returned her gaze with a fervent intensity that was hard to ignore. “Aye, it’s amazing how resilient animals are when given a fair chance, and I believe this guy to be quite young as well - in all probability less than a year - which will aid him in mending as well. With proper feeding, care, and a safe place to live, he’ll be better off than he was before this happened to him, all told. There are some care instructions we should go over, of course, and I’ll want to check on him at intervals until he is fully healed, but I don’t anticipate any lasting issues.”
Emma thanked him again, knowing that a huge grin was splitting her face, even as her cheeks warmed at the absurdity of the whole encounter. The last 24 hours had tossed everything up in the air, and she felt unsettled but also strangely giddy at the same time. When Henry’s enthusiastic thanks were added to her own, and even a couple of yips from their new pet, she was soon laughing, and joined easily by TL and Killian.
Henry’s brow scrunched curiously once more at their humor, asking, “What’s so funny?”
But Emma could only shake her head slightly at him before shrugging her shoulders and finally admitting, “I don’t really know, Kid.” She wrapped an arm around his shoulders before shooting a half smile back at the nurse and doctor, before beaming down at her son. “I guess I’m just relieved… and happy. This has been a surprise, but a good one, right?”
“Right!” he echoed enthusiastically.
Everyone chuckled again, and the boy returned his attention to his dog as Killian went over care instructions with her, TL scheduled a follow-up appointment, and Emma settled the bill. Before she knew it, they were ready to leave and take their third family member to his new home. At the door, Killian opened it gallantly for them, bowing playfully to Henry and wishing his furry patient well, then leaning in as Emma passed by, making her pause in the doorway, drawn to his warmth and causing the breath to jam up in her lungs. The air he exhaled with quietly murmured words at her ear ruffled the fine hairs that framed her face, tickling pleasantly. “If the little guy - or you yourself, Lass - need anything before his scheduled visit, please don’t hesitate to call.”
Emma nodded jerkily, a breathy exhale of her own barely escaping her throat.
“I am at your service, night or day,” he added, the timbre of his voice with that assurance sent shivers down her arms and legs even as he straightened back up quickly and gave her room to exit.
Blinking as she followed Henry and their dog across the parking lot to their car, Emma reflected that it might be a challenge not to call him before she had even left the premises.
~~ 🐾 ~~
In the wee hours of the morning, three a.m. to be exact, a mere two days later, was not when Emma had intended to use the number Dr. Jones had slipped her with such promising intent. But Henry’s worried eyes as he’d woken her, and the way her hands shook as she tried to get their pup - now christened ‘Cocoa’ - to drink and felt how hot and dry his normally cold, wet nose was, had her dialing in sheer desperation. It had seemed their pet was healing just fine, but now she feared this fever or infection that had woken them all, and she wasn’t sure how to bring it down and help him.
The phone rang twice, then three times, as Emma bit her lip and shuffled her feet anxiously, embarrassed to be bothering Dr. Jones in the middle of the night - or early morning, however one chose to look at it. On the fourth ring, there was finally the sound of a fumbling pick up on the other end of the line, and a low, groggy voice hoarse with sleep asking, “Hello?”
The unguarded intimacy of the simple response, hearing his voice before Jones was fully alert and aware, made Emma’s insides flip, unable to stop herself from imagining how it would sound whispering at her side as they curled together under covers. Her cheeks flushed unseen, and she pressed her hands to the heat, even as she stood alone at her kitchen counter.
Swallowing hard, Emma forced herself to blink away the shadowy vision, pleasant as it was, and refocus on why she had called him. “Dr. Jones? I’m so sorry to call you in the middle of the night…” she started hesitantly, “but this is Emma Swan… who brought in the stray dog a few days ago? …I know we must be waking you, and you’re well within your right to tell me to call back at a decent hour, but… Henry just woke me, and we’re worried about Cocoa, the pup. He seems like he has an awful fever…”
She paused, uncertain what else to say, and wondering if it had been silly to call the vet, now that she heard how simple the concern sounded out loud. Mercifully, Killian Jones took over then, wakefulness entering his voice, even over the telephone wire.
“No, no, please don’t worry over the time, Swan.” Her heart fluttered at his use of her surname, both familiar and comfortingly natural in a way she didn’t fully understand. “I told you that I would be available day or night, did I not? And I meant it. We wouldn’t want poor Cocoa suffering longer than he has to.”
Emma released the anxious breath she had been holding tight while awaiting his response. “Thank you so much,” she breathed. Seeing that Henry had padded out from his room, cradling Cocoa and placing him on the couch where he sat stroking the dog’s silky head, she shot her son a reassuring smile and nod of encouragement as well. Quickly, she gave Killian their address, and he promised to be there as soon as possible.
While they waited, Emma crossed over to Henry and Cocoa on the couch and knelt beside them. “How’s he doing, Kid?” she asked Henry with a gentle press of his hand.
“I still don’t think he feels well,” Henry mumbled with a sniffle, unable to help the way his lower lip trembled as he gladly squeezed his mom’s hand right back.
Emma didn’t know much about caring for sick animals, but she did reach out to scritch lightly behind the puppy’s ears the way he usually liked, then pressed her lips into a thin line with a concerned intake of breath at the warm, dry sensation she once again noticed when his nose pressed into her palm. It was usually a cool, wet nuzzle that made her squirm away in giggles. “Dr. Jones said he was glad we called and that he was on his way,” Emma told Henry needlessly, simply for lack of any better words to offer.
Henry nodded dutifully and leaned over to rest against her shoulder, as they waited in silence.
Dr. Jones was as good as his word, though, and it wasn’t much more than twenty minutes before they heard a knocking on the front door, followed by the sound of him calling out to announce himself.
Emma stood from where she had crouched on the floor by her boys and hurried toward the door to let him in. The man had been good enough to hurry to their aid in the wee hours of the morning; the last thing she intended to do was leave him standing on the porch, open to the avid curiosity of any nosey neighbors who might be awake. She quickly swung the door open and motioned Killian Jones into their home with a grateful smile.
Killian smiled back, his breath escaping in a puff of chill morning air as he greeted her. They didn’t linger to let the cool breeze slip through; Emma instead closed the door behind him and gestured for Killian to follow her through the small but cozy entryway, kitchen, and into the living room, where Henry and Cocoa were waiting. She thanked him again for coming out - late hour and all - as they walked, but he kindly deflected her praise, humbly asserting it was only as he ought to do for his patient.
As she had found herself often since meeting him, Emma was taken aback, struck nearly speechless by his charming manner, his kindness, and his unassuming, but nonetheless heroic, care for those he came in contact with - whether human or defenseless animal with no other voice to speak up for itself. He was more than too-good-to-be-true, and since she didn’t know what to do with that, or how to express the muddle he made of her, she merely announced his present to Henry, who looked up in greeting with relief evident on his young face.
Killian crouched beside them, much as she had done not long before, talking calmly to Henry, and also murmuring soothingly to Cocoa as he began to check the dog over. Emma stood to the side, merely watching with equal parts awe and admiration as he put both boy and dog at ease.
He was thorough and attentive, but it still didn’t take long before he moved from his crouch on the floor to the chair nearby, positioning himself so he could look between Emma and Henry more easily and explain his findings to them both. “You were right to call and have our little guy checked out,” he began. “It always pays to be safe and make certain if something doesn’t seem normal with your pet. The good news is, I think this is just a slight fever from some post-op inflammation. It isn’t uncommon after surgery, and it usually clears up within a day or so. We’ll keep an eye on him to be certain, and I’ll give Cocoa a shot of some antibiotics for good measure. He should be back to his usual self before we know it, just make sure he gets plenty of fresh, cool water and that you let him rest as much as he needs until he can fight it off.”
“That’s all it is?” Henry queried, looking as if he needed to make completely sure with one more guarantee. “And then he’ll be fine?”
“Yes, he will,” Killian reiterated, not at all put off by Henry’s questioning or need for reassurance. “Cocoa should be up and running circles about the place again in no time.”
Internally, Emma forced herself to relax for once, simply trust a man at his word, and not to worry over his giving her son the certainty of a promise. By now, Killian had more than shown he knew what he was talking about as a veterinarian. Once Henry had offered his beaming and enthusiastic thanks, he turned his attention back to his pet, stroking Cocoa’s curly, soft ears quietly and speaking the same assurances he had just been given to his four-legged best friend.
Emma turned to Killian with warmly relieved gratitude of her own. “Thank you,” she stated simply, but with a wealth of feeling behind the words. “He would have been crushed if it were something worse, or if you hadn’t been able to help.”
Killian’s response came out in a lower register and more gravelly timbre than Emma had heard before, making her tremble somehow at his, “It was my pleasure, Swan. I’m only glad it was something I could deal with simply.”
She nodded her understanding wordlessly, hardly trusting her voice not to quiver, and they sat in comfortable silence for several moments, just smiling at one another. Somewhere in the midst of Killian’s explanation and Henry’s thanks and turning back to his pup, Emma had dropped onto the couch nearer to Killian from where she had been hovering nearby. Now, she startled to look down and realize just how close their hands were. She licked her lips in nervous anticipation, a delicious warmth radiating from him and magnifying her awareness - despite their not having made physical contact. Finally, she gathered her courage and inched her hand over just enough for her fingers to brush against his.
To his credit, Killian Jones didn’t hesitate once she breached the divide. He gathered her tentative fingers in his own and squeezed fervently, twining them hand-in-hand and making Emma’s stomach swoop and her heart pound wildly against the cage of her chest. They were merely holding hands, and yet the pleasing sensation was more than enough for her in that moment. Warmth flushed her body, and she scooted just that little bit closer, returning the pressure of his fingers with her own grip.
Perfectly content, they settled in, making themselves cozy while they watched over Henry and Cocoa snuggled in together, once more fast asleep. Emma could only think how very right it felt as Killian tucked her into his side, his chin resting against the crown of her head as he pulled her close. She may not have known this man long, but her home already felt more complete and whole with the addition of his presence… as if he had always belonged with them.
And when he woke the next morning, still curled next to her on the couch, sunlight streaming through the living room windows and lighting up Emma’s halo of blond hair as she slept on, Killian knew he might well be another stray who had at long last found a home.
Tagging a few who might enjoy: @whimsicallyenchantedrose @kmomof4 @hollyethecurious @xarandomdreamx @jonesfandomfanatic
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Emma Swan
Characters: Captain Hook | Killian Jones, Emma Swan
Additional Tags: Canon Universe, Post-Canon, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, True Love, Romance, Drabble, kind of drabble
Summary: Post-canon. Killian thinks about his past and what the future holds for him and Emma.
Written in honor of the CSMM Discord server's 6th anniversary
Thank you to everyone who participated in this event!!!!! You are awesome shipmates ❤️🏴☠️🦢✨🥰
Summary: As the Dark One, Emma's gotten used to the long, lonely nights. But after Killian's memories of being a Dark One are returned, this one seems extra lonely. But when he suddenly appears to her, maybe they're both looking for some companionship.
A/N: So I was listening to Millennium by the Backstreet Boys for the first time in decades and when "I Need You Tonight" came on, I just got hit with all the Dark Captain Swan feelz. So. Have some Dark CS smut. Hope you like it! (thanks as always to @optomisticgirl for the beta!) [If the AO3 link doesn't work right away, it should in a bit!]
rated M | 3.4k | AO3
The night seemed to stretch endlessly in front of Emma. As she lay on the plush bed in her new bedroom—fully clothed, atop the covers, because why bother tucking in when she couldn’t sleep?—she watched the light from the moon, rendered pale by window curtains, slowly move across the opposite wall.
Each night had all been like that for the past few weeks, since they got back to Storybrooke, but this one was dragging especially hard. (They’d definitely gone faster when there wasn’t a digital alarm clock ticking away the minutes. And she was all out of dreamcatcher materials.)
But this time, it was probably because she’d finally had to own up to what she’d done. God, she’d been so close to fixing it all—
—Had she been, though? Because even if she had managed to rid them both of the darkness (and eliminate Zelena at the same time), she’d still have to come to terms with the fact she’d gone against Killian’s wishes in Camelot. It was worth it to her—she’d do it again, whatever it took to save him, to keep him—but he clearly thought otherwise.
Part of her was angry with him. Did he not love her enough to want to stay with her? After all she’d done for everyone—and everything he fought through and gave up to be with her—he’d really give up so easily?
But she still wasn’t sure if that feeling was genuine, or if that was the Darkness silently whispering in her ear. Visions of Dark Ones past weren’t plaguing her as much as they used to; she didn’t know if that was good or bad. Maybe it was just proof that she’d finally joined them.
She sighed and rolled onto her side, for what it was worth, somehow not ruining her severe braided bun. The leather jacket wasn’t the most comfortable to recline in, but it didn’t really matter; maybe it was some kind of penance for what she’d done—if she believed in that sort of thing. The Darkness certainly didn’t.
No, the Darkness was the opposite—hedonistic and self-centered. Emma was long used to going without and putting her wants aside for others; for the first time, she’d felt she had license to indulge—not on innocuous things like a large order of onion rings or an extra scoop of ice cream, but the things she really wanted: this house, for example (and what it represented); saving Killian, obviously; and not hesitating to engage her sexual desires.
God, even now; why had she decided to wear such tight pants? Just the slightest odd movement brushed between her legs in just the right way to make her crave more. She could take care of it herself, but that wouldn’t be as satisfying. But of course, the only person who she wanted was the one who was least likely to help her right now. (He’d more than obliged back in Camelot—before…everything.)
Ugh. Now she shifted uncomfortably; she needed a diversion. It was a little ironic that, for a while there, she’d been trying to get rid of those ancient Dark One voices and visions haunting her; now, she’d almost welcome the specter of Rumpelstiltskin, just for the distraction. Nimue, Zoso, that weird feral hog thing—anyone.
“How about me?”
She sat bolt upright at the voice—faster than humanly possible—and zeroed in on the source immediately.
Killian stood in the far corner of the room, opposite the window—hiding in the shadows. She wasn’t sure if it was a trick of the dim light or a flex of his own magic, but his eyes seemed to shine bright blue even in the dark.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, voice scratchy with disuse—though that was also kind of just how she sounded now, as if the Darkness had roughened her vocal cords, too. “I thought you were busy opening the portal to hell.”
“Oh, that’s still on my to-do list,” he quipped back, then pushed away from the wall, hips first. “But I might be able to squeeze in something—or someone—else.”
“I’d think I was the last person you’d want to see.”
“Aye,” he said plainly. “And yet—here I am.”
“Why?” If he was just here to taunt her, she wished he’d leave, regardless of the fact she was still happy to see him.
“How lucky for you that you’ve existed thus far as a Dark One and not felt the tug of a summons.”
Shit. She hadn’t intended that. “I wanted any one but you,” she blurted.
He scoffed. “No you didn’t.”
She didn’t have a response for that—not a truthful one, at least, and she’d been withholding that enough.
“Cozy room you have here,” he went on, eyes scanning around the space as he sauntered closer, his fingers casually dancing over the hilt of Excalibur. “When I saw the real estate listing, this is more how I pictured the interior; must have missed the part about a cave dungeon in the basement.”
“I told you—”
“Nothing,” he finished, angrily, now standing in front of her. It was definitely magic illuminating his irises, because they still beamed an angry blue even though he was backlit by the window. “You’ve said nothing that can explain yourself, love, so don’t try now.”
“Then why did you even bother coming here? You could have left.”
“And miss a prime opportunity to gloat?” He arched an eyebrow and gave a sideways smirk, the one that made his dimple cut through his scruff, but there was nothing playful about it like there usually was. “You know, I spent so many restless nights since we returned to Storybrooke—tossing and turning and wondering why I couldn’t just fall asleep. I chalked it up to you: the fact I didn’t know how to free you—if you even wanted to be freed; missing the feel of you in my arms. Longing to be with you…in other ways.” His gaze drifted down her body to the way her thighs were squeezed together. “Seems you at least know that feeling.”
“Yeah,” she breathed, sounding much more vulnerable than intended—but there was no hiding her desire; not from him—not ever.
“And why should I do anything to help you with that?” he asked, almost angrily.
“You don’t have to,” she answered quietly, looking away; the intensity of his gaze was finally too much to bear. “I can handle it myself.”
“I know you can.” She felt something like voyeuristic pleasure coming off of him; was that how he knew to come in the first place? Was there more to their connection than she realized? “I would take much joy in watching your attempts to satisfy yourself, knowing full well you’d never get there—not really.”
“And let me guess—you’d beat one off while I edged myself for ages?” she snapped back, looking back up at him.
He leaned closer, invading her space until all she could see was his eyes. “I would. But what fun would that be?”
Not a moment later, his lips were pressing against hers—almost tentatively, as if asking permission, but she wasted no time in kissing him back. Instinctively, her hands found his waist and she pulled him closer; she squeezed, unafraid of hurting him for a change, because she wasn’t used to feeling the warmth of his body through the thin fabric of his shirt. It was kind of odd that his clothing choices finally swayed towards soft now that he was invulnerable, but maybe that was the point—he didn’t need his armor anymore.
Meanwhile, her armor was on even thicker; his hand also settled at her side, but tensed against the stiff crocodilian leather of her jacket. “Off,” he whispered—a command she was all too eager to follow.
She didn’t bother breaking the kiss; she just flicked her hand and stripped herself almost bare, down to the black lacy lingerie she’d taken to wearing lately. Wearing it had always made her feel confident—it was her go-to for a honeytrap—but she’d been waiting for an encounter like this in which to show it off (though she’d hoped it would have been before his memories of Camelot were returned).
She stood and pressed herself against him, quickly becoming aware of the fact that he too was aroused. He groaned mid-kiss as she arched her pelvis against the bulge in his jeans, and she smiled against his lips.
He might hate her, but apparently, he still wanted her.
“Almost,” he murmured, breaking the kiss but barely moving away. He reached up to her temple, and then she felt his magic wash over her, somehow both cool and warm—like a sea breeze in the summer sun. His long fingers followed the wave of enchantment, freeing her hair from its severe confines.
Her locks had been bleached white since that day in the meadow, but now her curls hung as they always had around her face, settling on her bare shoulders. Other than that day on the Jolly Roger, she’d used her pulled-back hair as armor as much as her clothes; this made her feel even more vulnerable than being only in her undergarments did.
“Much better,” he hummed in appreciation, and then began to trail kisses down her jaw to her neck; she had to bite back a giggle (seriously, a giggle? It really was a good thing no other Dark One had shown up) at the tickle of his thicker beard against her sensitive skin. Meanwhile, her hands drifted to his chest, like they usually did in these moments.
He shucked off his coat while sucking at her pulse point, making her spine arch with pleasure. Her hands trailed after the shed garment, relishing the feel of his muscles under his shirt, tracing the dips of his collarbones; she couldn’t normally do that with his waistcoats.
His hand was still tangled in her hair as she reached back up and began to unbutton his top. She barely even thought about it—it had just become part of their evening routine whenever they stayed together, whether they were being intimate or not. He stilled briefly when she undid the first one; she paused, much like he had earlier, asking permission. But he simply began kissing her shoulder again so she plowed on.
He was fully capable of undressing himself, but god, did she love to do it. She’d be damned (probably literally) if this was the last time she ever did it, but she was still going to savor this moment of almost domestic bliss in the middle of…everything.
The way his chest hair, his pecs, and then his abs gradually revealed themselves as her fingers slow-danced down his torso always felt like unwrapping a delicious treat—especially once she got to his belt and the waistband of his pants, and had to undo those, too, to untuck his shirt.
She also took advantage of the opportunity to trace the curve of his ass as her hands slipped under his jeans to remove the tail of his shirt. And smirked when she realized he had nothing on underneath. She (gently) dug her nails into his cheeks to bring him close again; his subsequent gasp made her belly flip—in a good way.
It had been a while since she had any positive, normal—human—reaction like that; she welcomed it for that reason, too.
It felt like old times as she pushed the fabric off his shoulders, sliding it down his biceps and over his brace while he guided the straps of her bra off, then deftly unhooked the back clasp and tossed the garment aside. She relished the opportunity to press close to him again, swallowing at the brush of his chest hair against her nipples, as she tugged his jeans down over his narrow hips. They fell to the floor quickly, pulled down by the weight of Excalibur, which hit the carpet with a heavy thud.
His suddenly free erection pressed against her core, but only for a moment before he gently pushed her back against the bed, forcing her to sit as he stepped out of his shoes and wiggled off his pants. (She’d never known there could be something adorable about a waiting cock wiggling—and she didn’t dare voice it now—but…well, it was.)
Then he was on top of her, pressing her back onto the mattress and kissing her within an inch of her life. It was probably a good thing they were immortal at the moment, because they weren’t stopping to take a breath.
He gripped her waist and she buried her fingers in his shaggy locks—something she’d been longing to do ever since he stopped cutting it in Camelot. It was silky soft and gave her more to hold on to than she normally had, letting her angle him just where she wanted him. Everywhere they touched felt like sparks against her skin, stoking the fire growing in her center.
She was starting to get desperate for some friction. Actually, it seemed like they both were; there was a sense of urgency to this whole encounter that wasn’t their usual style. But given the way things were, she didn’t really care—she just wanted him. And so she arched her pelvis against his, feeling the brush of his cock against the lace of her panties; it almost touched where she wanted but—not quite.
“Eager, are we?” he purred, and then she felt his fingers flex against her side—but also felt that warm-cool sensation as a result of his magic, and realized the lace was now gone. She then shivered—it felt like his thumb was pressing on her clit, but his hand was still on her waist.
“That’s a n-nice t-trick,” she stammered, as the pressure changed.
“I’ve been hoping to try this,” he replied, then returned his attentions to her mouth, his hand wandering up to her breast—but still there was the sensation of his fingers dancing outside her entrance.
She gave in to sensations—not that there was much else she could do. Her hands gripped the quilt just to give her an anchor in the wave of bliss that was about to wash over her. Oh god, she was so close; she could feel her walls beginning to tighten, that spool of pleasure fully wound inside her—just a few more (invisible) strokes—
And then it slowly dissipated. She blinked—she hadn’t even realized she was squinting her eyes shut—and saw him hovering over her smugly. “I couldn’t let you come that easily, could I?” he teased. There was a familiar amount of humor in his tone, but edged with the malice that had colored it since he remembered their shared curse.
Well, two could play this game. She drew the fingers of her right hand into a circle and squeezed the air; his ensuing hiss told her that he felt the mimicked sensation on his cock. So she did it again—a few times, actually—until he too was on the brink of release, head thrown back, the cords of his neck on display as he panted, and then let go.
“Oh, you saucy little—” His words were cut off by her grabbing his shoulders and pulling his mouth to hers once more; it was nice to know she was always capable of kissing away his sassy one-liners.
It didn’t take long for them both to get keyed up again—not that they’d really come down at all—and as good as the brush of his length against her folds felt, she wanted more. Given the increasingly erratic pace of his kisses and breaths, he did, too.
Before she could say anything, though, he spoke up.
“Emma, I need—”
She stilled, gripping his shoulders. He hadn’t called her Emma since his memories returned. It was always ‘Swan’ or ‘love’, the haze of the Darkness coloring even his pet names.
But when she cupped his face and looked in his eyes this time, there was nothing blocking her view—just the pure blue she’d come to love. This was him, entirely.
“Killian, yes—I need you, too,” she answered, near tears.
Without further pause, he moved back and slid in perfectly. They stopped for a moment there, feeling the initial relief of being together.
She looked up and he was squinting his eyes and shaking his head a bit—as if trying to stay in the moment but something wanted to pull him away. She had a good feeling she knew what. So she reached up to brush away the hair that had fallen over his face, then placed her free hand on his other cheek. “Hey,” she murmured. “Stay with me.”
He relaxed at her touch and opened his eyes. “Always,” he said softly, voice rough with emotion. “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” she said urgently, and found his lips once more.
They began to move simultaneously, not wasting any further moments as they chased a shared release. She pressed her heels into his backside, urging him on, but it didn’t take long until she was there, cresting over the edge of bliss and free falling down the other side. The only thing holding her to reality was Killian’s warm skin under her hands; she could tell by the way he stilled shortly after that he’d found his own release, too.
She held on to him tight. He pulled out, but stayed close, too, as if she was his anchor in the storm—and wasn’t that kind of what they were to each other, especially in this moment?
What lay ahead—for them, for everyone—she didn’t know. But right now, she had this, and she wasn’t letting it go.
For a while there—she was decidedly not looking at the alarm clock, so she didn’t know (or care) how long exactly—they lay entwined, breathing in sync. She honestly hadn’t paid attention to her own heart beat in weeks, but when she placed her ear against his chest, she heard the reassuring thump-thump of his that gave her hope they’d both get out of this relatively unscathed.
If their hearts still beat for each other, then what on earth could separate them?
Eventually, though, he shifted away from her and rose from the bed. A flick of his wrist cleaned the residue of their encounter from both of them and, facing away from her, he grabbed his jeans from where they’d been left and pulled them back on.
“You don’t have to go,” she told him, bringing her knees to her chest as she perched on the edge of the mattress. (If she was sad to see his ass get covered up in denim, well, that was her business.)
No sooner had he redone the clasp of his sword belt when his shirt and jacket also reappeared on his form. He turned around, and she stilled a bit, almost sadly—the warmth that had been in eyes just before they came was gone; the Darkness was back in its place.
“I don’t have to, no—but I want to,” he said, unfeelingly. “Things to do, people to see—you know how it is. But thank you for the distraction, love. See you ‘round.”
The dark red smoke she’d come to recognize as his color of magic surrounded him, and then he was gone.
Well. Fuck.
Really, she should have expected it to end this way. There was still so much crap for them to get through. But…couldn’t they have had just this one night?
She sighed and ran a hand through her hair, an echo of where she was earlier. Her body was cool to the touch, but she didn’t shiver; still, she got under the covers, if only because it was what she was used to.
Out of habit, she stuck to one side of the bed. She looked over at the empty half. She’d fix this soon enough, and he’d be back at her side.
A glance at the clock told her she had plenty of time left tonight to mull it over. At least she was able to think it over a bit more clearly, without her libido getting in the way. (That’s what she was telling herself, at least.)
And that’s how she spent the rest of the night: watching the moonlight continue to make its way across the wall—trying to make sure she didn’t spend another night restless and alone.
—————————————-
thanks for reading! Tagging some friends (including the fabulous and supportive Word Forge): @ohmightydevviepuu @shireness-says @iverna @thejollyroger-writer @wistfulcynic @phiralovesloki @initiala @idoltina
Last Friday, I made cinnamon rolls for my kids because it just felt like we needed a little sweetness. As we were eating them, I remembered an X (tweet? what do we call them these days?) I saw on Facebook about someone seeing a woman at a coffee shop throwing away the middle of her cinnamon roll. That led to this ficlet, which I felt we all could use right now. So here's some full on sugary CS fluff.
"What did you just do?"
Killian looked at Emma in confusion. "I gave my trash to Granny?"
"Your trash!? The middle of your cinnamon roll was on that plate, Killian! As in the best part of the cinnamon roll! The whole reason you get the cinnamon roll!"
Killian arched an eyebrow at Henry. "She's rather passionate about this, eh mate?"
Around a big bite of his own cinnamon roll, Henry replied, "She's passionate about all sweets."
"And you!" Emma told her son. "Biting into that cinnamon roll like that! Do you just bite into a Kit Kat bar, too, like a barbarian? You're supposed to unroll the cinnamon roll, Henry, savoring every bite until you reach that gooey perfection in the center."
Henry caught Killian's eye.
"Aye," Killian chuckled, taking a sip of his coffee, "very passionate."
"Am I right?" Emma asked Granny, who had returned to top off her coffee. "Is that not the only way to eat a cinnamon roll?"
"Oh, absolutely. I unroll it so I can eat the middle first."
Emma gasped in horror. "No savoring? Granny, really?" She looked around at all three of them, shaking her head. "And I thought I knew all of you."
Emma was lost in thought in her office, filling out paperwork, when a paper plate appeared in her line of vision. Sitting upon it was a gooey, amazing, wonderful, middle of a cinnamon roll. She looked up to find Killian smiling down at her. He leaned forward to look her intently in the eyes.
"What's mine is yours, love. So if my lack of a sweet tooth results in cast off cinnamon roll middles, which you strongly desire, I shall gift them all to you."
Grinning broadly, Emma bit into her treat. Around a heavenly mouth full, she told her husband, "I can agree to this." Then she reached up, grabbed him by the collar and gave him a messy, sugary kiss.
The year is the 10 year anniversary of Your Case or Mine…and I’m currently knee deep in completing the Epilogue (FINALLY).
I’m hoping that there’ll still be an audience around to receive it. It’s been years since I posted the last chapter but I always planned/hoped/wanted to complete the labour-of-love Epilogue with my usual flash-forward style goodies included.
I’m also never on here anymore, but I will post it on here, FFnet and AO3, for anyone who’s still seeing my posts.
