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thislovintime · 1 year

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Peter Tork’s second house (at 3615 Shady Oak Road in Studio City), as photographed in 2022 by Barry King/Alamy Stock Photo; Peter as photographed by Nurit Wilde (screenshot from Laurel Canyon: A Place In Time).

“Peter Tork’s house had belong to actor Wally Cox. It was one of those substantial homes. It had a swimming pool. It had a whole wing going off in one direction with rooms in it used for rehearsals. It had a whole pool house that had an apartment in it. A complex. Through the gate and up the driveway. And you come into this whole world there. The first time I was there it was Peter’s house, and then it became Stephen Stills’. Peter was very social. He was like a commune type of guy. A lot of people around. He was like a yoga and guru guy. In those days you could go over and could stay for a couple of days if you wanted. You’d meet somebody there and fall in love. It was a very open society. One night I went to Peter’s house and showed slides, and Keith Moon and Pete Townshend of the Who were there. I did a slide show and they were sitting in the front, cracking jokes. Making up titles for the slides.” - Henry Diltz, Canyon of Dreams: The Magic and Music of Laurel Canyon (2009)

“[Peter] got a big house, and I went and stayed with him for a while. And then he had a big house in Studio City that I ended up buying from him. Great house. That was the CS&N house.” - Stephen Stills, Canyon of Dreams: The Magic and Music of Laurel Canyon (2009)

Peter Tork: “That house had a swimming pool that had nobody overlooking it, so we could swim au naturel. Confidential magazine actually mocked up a picture… I don’t know where they got a photo, they got a photo of the backyard of the house with the swimming pool in it, and they airbrushed in the picture of a woman of indistinct features facing the camera naked, but with her arms crossing her chest. Since I know that no woman ever did that, that’s one of the reasons I know it was a fake, and when you look closely, you can see it. Confidential magazine, which was then the hotshot gossip, tell-all National Enquirer, what Entertainment Tonight is, all that stuff, they made a point of intimating debauchery — which there wasn’t too much of. There was a lot of good stuff, a lot of innocent stuff there, too, I must say. The house was on the north side of Laurel Canyon. [..] I lived north of the canyon, really it was in the foothills of the Santa Monica Mountains there, where Laurel Canyon comes down off of Laurel Terrace, on a little tiny street called Shady Oak, I think it had one other house on it. […] Crosby came up to the big house a lot, along with Denny Doherty and Barry McGuire and Steve Stills […]. When I had the big house, he came up, and for a while, I vacated the big house, and Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young were staying there. The Stones stayed there for a week once, under Stephen’s aegis. He had them come over, and I think he cleared out for a week while they stayed there. That was pretty cool. […] Sometimes I would wake up to find them swimming in the pool with a half-empty gallon of wine floating in the pool that they would take occasional hits from. […] Jimi came over a lot with Buddy Miles.”

[…] Q: “Who were the women who would attend those parties at your house?” PT: “There were a couple ladies living at my house, none of whom you would have heard of, probably. They’d gotten into the scene…one of them was a lady whose first encounter, I think, was with Chris Hillman, and whose second encounter was me, and whose third encounter was Peter Fonda, except that she got it on with Crosby on the side, because nobody cared in those days. So in a sense, it was groupies, but not the ‘pick ‘em up’ groupies on the street. These had actually evolved into ladies of position in the scene. Invaluable, really. Couldn’t carry on without them.” - Rolling Stone, 2007; published 2019

(Visitors to the house also included George Harrison and Ringo Starr; more on that in June over @harrisonarchive, for the 55th anniversary.)

“‘I don't mean to paint such a bleak picture of it [the Sixties],’ Tork said. ‘I still felt I was in the vanguard, along with a bunch of other people. I was pretty happy. I had a circle of friends, and it was a lot of fun. God knows, I went through a lot of scenes and found out what I needed to find out, which is, for instance, that orgies are nice, but they're only temporary and they're not fulfilling.’” Tork's infamous orgies were held at the Hollywood house he bought in 1968, previously the property of comedian Wally Cox. At the height of his fame, Tork could have paid for it in cash, but was advised against it. So he took out a huge loan and spent his money redecorating. In the master bedroom Tork's bed was eight feet by eight feet with a foam mattress six inches thick. He had a four-place bathtub put into the bathroom, along with a sauna. He had Mexican tiles laid. He carved his initials into the shower stall. There was red plush carpeting throughout the house, a wet bar in the foyer, six-by-nine-foot picture window in the living room overlooking the San Fernando Valley. The film room was a splendiferous workshop of sandblasted natural wood that housed Tork's resident filmmaker manqué. The screen covered the entire wall, offering a ten-by-twelve-foot platform for the flower of psychedelia's exploding visuals – viewed by exploding heads of all chemical persuasions, days on end. Just down the hall and across a bridge was another wing of the house. Downstairs was a cabana, leading to a fifty-foot pool. There were no houses behind his, so many people preferred to dive into the pool nude – straight out of his bathroom window. ‘I'd rather have nude swimming,’ reflected Tork; ‘it's much easier. There's a certain charge to bodies if they're covered up, and if you remove that, it takes a lot of that extra energy out of things.’ Originally, Tork brought a girl friend [Reine Stewart] to live with him at the house. Then his filmmaker friend [Bobby Hammer] moved in. He was followed by a young woman and her son [Karen Harvey and Justin]. Later a friend of his girl friend stayed there. When Tork quit the Monkees toward the end of 1968, his new group, Peter Tork and/or Release, moved in. Often, wandering downstairs of an early afternoon. Tork would come upon two or three strange bodies asleep in the walk-in fireplace. But that was all right. At the same time, it wasn't all right. ‘If you're fixed on the notion that an orgy is going to fulfill you, and one doesn't do it, you're going to try a hundred. If orgies don't do it, maybe drugs will. Like the fixated person I was then, I went from one thing to another. I had to try everything: flower power, dope, orgies, fast cars.’ His sternest nemesis was alcohol. ‘In the beginning drinking was a lot of fun,’ said Tork. ‘I have some memories of things that I did drunk that I never would have done sober, that I guess I always sort of wanted to do. But drinking isn't selective. It doesn't let you do exactly what you want to do and keep you from doing the things you don't want to do. Furthermore, at a certain point, and I think with certain personality types, it's addictive. You find you cannot drink moderately any longer. It finally reached a point with me where it was obvious that I was going to die if I kept up with it. I was never hospitalized, but I could see the path. I realized I was out of control.’” - When The Music Mattered (1984)

“It had a big lovely swimming pool and a good music room where we could get pretty loud. Jimi did come over to my house. Buddy Miles and I were close for a while and both of them would come over and say hello. Once [Stephen Stills] and David Crosby and my then girlfriend and I were jamming together and I leaning into the drums something ferocious, banging on cymbals and lashing out pretty good, until a city councilman and a cop came over and we were so loud that we drowned out conversation down the hill, apparently.” - Peter Tork, Review Mag, May 27, 2016

“I think I was a sort of Gatsby [during the Monkee years]. I was isolated and did not have a continuing sense of community. I’d have a moment of friendship here or there, a moment of sharing, but I didn’t believe that was the main body of my life. I didn’t know who my friends were, and anytime somebody asked me for a favor I wrote them off as a hang-around. And I wasn’t able to ask people for favors, because I was supposed to have all that it took to keep myself together, because I had the money. At the same time, by giving the money away, I thought I was returning something to the community. I didn’t see myself as apologizing, which is how I see myself now. But I had all this money, and I tried to make amends to the world by throwing it at people. And, essentially, what that did was to isolate me all the more.” - Peter Tork, When The Music Mattered (1984)

“Poor Peter Tork of the Monkees, he was so sweet. We stayed with him part of the time, and the Digger boys just about emptied his house. I really regret their doing that.” - Jeff Kisseloff, Generation on Fire (2007)

“Peter Tork of the Monkees generously offered a place to say while Elsa and the others worked the town. ‘He was sweet,’ says Elsa [Marley Skylark] with some chagrin, ‘and I felt bad because the [Digger] boys ripped him off for everything that was liftable.’” - Sleeping Where I Fall: A Chronicle (1999) (x)

"'She [Karen Harvey] came because I asked her to,’ Tork conformed during a phone call from California. 'I can’t actually say she was my girlfriend. She was my roommate. She came back and forth for a while. I’m an old fan of hers from way, way back. Karen is a wonderful singer.’ Although she eventually got her own apartment, Harvey spent much of her time at Tork’s house, under the famous 'Hollywood’ sign. 'I was handling a lot of affairs of the house because he [Tork] was working like a slave,’ Harvey said. 'TV work is no picnic.’ With the increasing amount of money and fame through the Monkees’ TV show, Tork moved to a bigger house (once owned by actor Wally Cox) in Studio City. They also needed more room because Tork, Harvey and Robert Hammer, who directed the horror film 'Don’t Answer the Phone,’ had formed a film company called Breakthrough-Influence, whose work included videos for Crosby, Stills and Nash, and Steve Miller. (Hammer is also the father of Harvey’s son, Justin, 22; she has another son, Domin, 11, by a member of Sail-Joia.) 'It was in that [Studio City] house that Lowell George from Little Feat used to rehearse, and that was the house that the Beatles came to,’ Harvey said. 'Jimi Hendrix came to both [houses] because he was a real good friend right up until he died.’" - The News Journal, July 16, 1989 (x)

(More about the Tork-George connection here.)

“Tork — whose membership in the artificially constructed group the Mokees didn’t lose him street cred with his ‘purer’ music friends — owned a house in Studio City, which he termed an ‘artists’ collective.’ There, beautiful, distinctly non-bimbo women strolled around nude; vegetarian cuisine was whipped up by a chef; and Augustus Oswley Stanley III made personal visits from the Bay Area with his finest fresh batches of acid. Crosby and his girlfriend, Christine Hinton, were frequent guests.” - footnote in Girls Like Us: Carole King, Joni Mitchell, Carly Simon — And the Journey of a Generation by Sheila Weller (2008)

“After quitting [The Monkees], Tork tried to launch a new band called Peter Tork and Release. The fact that he’d been in the Monkees may have made it harder to gain respect, he said, but his fame also gave him advantages over other new bands. The pluses and debits of being an ex-Monkee balanced out, Tork thinks. Release failed, he says, because ‘I didn’t know how to stick to it. I ran out of money and told the band members, “I can’t support us as a crew any more, you’ll just have to find your own way.”’ In hindsight, Tork says, he should have asked the others to help support the band and hang with it after he could no longer afford to be its sugar daddy. But at the time, Tork says, he lacked the self-esteem to ask for other people’s help.” - Los Angeles Times, October 20, 1992 (x)

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hollyethecurious · 2 years

Text

CS AU: Conviction (11/11)

Summary: The story had been front page news for months. Scandalous details of a married woman of low birth and with limited means, murdering her husband; hatcheting him to death in order to save her own life and that of her unborn child - or so she claimed. No evidence to support her allegations of abuse had been presented during the trial, but in the end, it was the fact that Mrs. Cassidy was with child that saved her from a verdict of murder in the first degree, a judgment that carried the death penalty for both men and women alike. As an act of mercy, a lesser charge was issued, one that spared her life but now made her Misthaven Penitentiary’s problem to contend with, and more specifically, the Captain of the Guard charged with keeping order within its walls.

A/N: We have made it to the conclusions! Thanks y’all for going on this journey with me! Hope you enjoy this final chapter!

Thanks to my amazing betas, @snowbellewells and @kmomof4 (especially since they interrupted their vacation to look this chapter over. You ladies ROCK!!) Also, shout out to @sotangledupinit for the assist in defringing Killian for the art.

Rated T-M (for themes, mentions of abuse, murder, and attempted assault) / Available on ao3 and ff.net / buy me a coffee / add to tag list

Chapter Eleven

A laugh gurgled up from Henry’s little chest, his arms and legs flailing wildly in his cradle when Killian’s face came into view. “Good morning, my boy,” Killian cooed as he picked up the lad and nestled him against his chest. “Sleep well?”

“He slept very well,” Emma told him from behind her privacy screen where Elsa was assisting her in getting dressed for the day. “Fourth night in a row that he’s been out from one roll call to the next.”

Killian smiled down at the babe in his arms, Henry’s chubby hand trying to grasp the brass buttons of his uniform. “That’s my good lad,” he praised, placing a kiss to the soft fuzz at Henry’s temple.

“You wanted to see me, Captain?”

Killian turned to find Officer Booth standing at attention in the doorway. The tell-tale signs of fatigue from the night shift were evident in the dark patches beneath his eyes, making Killian reluctant to say, “Aye. I need you to escort the ladies on their walk before returning to the barracks. I shall relieve you as soon as I am finished meeting with the Warden and he departs for the Magistrate.”

Booth acknowledged the order with a dutiful nod, then met Killian’s eyes with a significant gaze. The officer knew what business was to be discussed and the purpose for which the warden would be departing for the Magistrate’s office. They all did. The Board was meeting to rule on Swan’s petitions that morning, and both her solicitor and the warden had been summoned to attend. Although Killian knew he and his brother would likely have the same conversation they’d been having over the past several days, he did not want his brother to leave without speaking to him, especially since neither he nor Emma would be in attendance at the ruling.

“All set.”

Emma and Elsa came out from behind the privacy screen, both looking the picture of perfection with a poise and grace Killian knew only existed on the surface. Beneath their cool and calm facades they were just as anxious as he was about today’s Board meeting, but had clearly determined to meet the day head on with a measure of hope and optimism.

Killian envied them that.

“Here. I’ll take him,” Booth offered, stepping forward to wrestle Henry out of Killian’s arms. The lad fussed a bit, reaching for Killian as he was pulled away, then quickly quieted when Booth pulled funny faces, enthralled by the amusing expressions and accompanying noises.

“You’ll join us soon?” Emma inquired as Killian led her from her cell, the quiver in her voice not escaping his attention.

Taking her hand, Killian gave it a confident squeeze. “Aye. I won’t be but a few minutes. Liam will need to head for the Magistrate’s office soon.” Walking with her, he paused at the top of the side stairs, letting Booth and Elsa go on ahead as he took her other hand and pressed her palms against his chest. “I won’t tell you not to worry, but try and enjoy the beautiful morning. We’ll all hold on to hope while we can, aye?”

A soft smile ticked up the corners of her mouth as she nodded. “Tell the warden again how much I appreciate him advocating for me.”

“I will,” Killian murmured, resisting the urge to wrap his arms around her so he might offer her the comfort of his embrace. “You should go. I’ll catch up.”

Acquiescing, Emma turned towards the stairs, but before she began her descent, she turned back and placed a quick peck to his cheek. The hurried sound of her footsteps down the stairs matched the quickened rhythm of his heart.

Ever since their shared moment he had longed to have her in his arms again, to feel the softness of her lips and the warmth of her tongue against his. His nights had been filled with torment as the memory of her touch overwhelmed him, and reminiscence had turned to fantasies fueled by desire and longing he could no longer keep at bay.

Releasing a shaky breath, Killian ran his hand through his hair and made his way to his brother’s office. He had half-expected the warden to go straight to the Magistrate’s office this morning, however, both he and Elsa had arrived shortly after Killian had. He should have known that, like him, his sister-in-law would want to be by Emma’s side as they waited for the ruling to be passed down, and he was grateful that Liam had chosen to escort his wife to the prison first, giving him an opportunity to touch base with his brother one last time.

“Have you everything you’ll need?” Killian asked after being waved into the office.

“I believe so,” Liam replied, reviewing some papers on his desk. “I have your, and the rest of the officers’, statements regarding Miss Swan’s character, and the unanimous consensus amongst the guards that she be released. Hopper will have statements from the community with a similar show of support. The only question is whether the Board will hear such testimony.”

“They have to,” Killian insisted, not for the first time. He and Liam had gone over the hearing a dozen times, approaching it from every angle and discussing every possible argument and outcome. Both brothers, along with Swan’s solicitor, had been incensed at the Board’s denial of Emma’s attendance, leaving it in the hands of Mr. Hopper and Warden Jones to plead her case. Liam had offered to take Killian with him, presuming his captain would warrant admittance into the proceedings, but as much as he would love nothing more than to speak on his Swan’s behalf, there was no guarantee he would be extended that privilege, and he would much rather wait by Emma’s side at the prison than a lonely corridor outside the Boardroom.

Liam checked the time on his watch and sighed. “I best be off.”

As Liam gathered his things, Killian could hear frantic footsteps making their way from the side stairs before the out of breath voice of Mr. Hopper inquired, “Have you received word?”

“What are you d--”

“Have you received word?” Hopper asked again, cutting off Liam’s inquiry.

“Word of what?”

“The Board’s ruling! I was just informed by the Magistrate’s office that they met in secret last night and ruled on the petitions.”

“You cannot be bloody serious!” Killian roared, but Hopper continued, unfazed.

“Apparently, their decision was dispatched to both my office and the prison this morning, but as I went straight to the Magistrate for the meeting, I have not been to my office yet. I came here since the prison is closer to see if you have received the missive.”

“They met in bloody secret?” Killian railed on. “How? How is that even--”

“Sir?” All eyes snapped to Officer Briar, who was hovering at the doorway, holding an official looking envelope in his hand. “This just arrived for you from the Magistrate’s office.”

Philip handed the envelope to his warden, who then dismissed the officer, and Killian watched, his pulse thundering in his ears and his stomach churning with anxiety and rage as his brother opened the letter.

“They cannot do this,” Killian said as Liam read over the contents. “They can’t just rule without any representation on Emma's behalf! We’ll appeal. All the way to the Governor if necessary!”

“Killian,” Liam began attempting to calm him, but he had already whipped himself up into a righteous frenzy.

“I mean it, brother! They cannot do this! We cannot allow this injustice to stand! We--”

“Killian!” Liam shouted, quieting his captain and nodding towards Hopper who was now looking over the letter. “Read it.”

His brother’s expression, coupled with the astonished look on Hopper’s face, prompted Killian to snatch the parchment from the solicitor’s hands, his eyes widening and heart leaping after reading only a few lines of the ruling. Killian’s eyes snapped up, and the two men were staring back at him, each with the same edict in their gaze, though it was Hopper who voiced it.

“Go,” he said. “She’d want to hear it from you.”

Killian needed no further prompting. Rushing from the room with the missive clutched in his hand, he barrelled down the side stairs and sprinted around the exterior of the prison until the moseying party of three came into view.

“Officer Booth!” Killian shouted, gaining their attention. “Would you please escort Mrs. Jones back inside? I’ll take over as Miss Swan’s escort.”

“Of course,” August dutifully replied.

“Oh, and Elsa,” Killian began, spying the baby buggy as he caught up to them, “Would you take Henry back inside with you?”

“Why--”

“Please, Elsa,” he said with firm intent in his voice. His sister-in-law’s eyes dropped to the crumpled parchment in his fist and seemed to deduce the reasoning for herself.

“We’ll see you back inside,” she said to Emma as she steered the carriage back towards the prison, following Officer Booth.

“Killian, what is going on?” Emma inquired as he waited until they were alone.

“I have something to show you,” he said, taking her hand and leading her towards the fortified wall that surrounded the prison yard.

Emma stopped short when they reached the gate, the only access point that led in and out of the prison, and one no prisoner was allowed to pass through without explicit permission from either the Warden or the Magistrate.

“What are you doing?” she exclaimed. “You know I can’t--”

“Actually,” Killian said, cutting off her protest and pressing the letter into her hand. “You can.”

Brow furrowed, Emma opened the crumpled piece of paper and began to look over its contents. As she read, Killian prompted her forward, step by step, until she crossed the line forbidden to inmates, placing herself free of the prison wall when she finally gasped.

“A pardon?” Her eyes darted from the page to Killian’s face. “The Board ruled that I be given a full pardon? How? When?”

“Hopper arrived not long after you left for your walk and told Liam and me that the Board had met in secret last night. This letter came almost immediately after.” Taking her hand, Killian pulled her a step closer. “It’s official and effective immediately, love. You're free.”

“I’m free,” she parroted back to him in shock, then elation burst from her, shimmering in her eyes and reverberating in her tone as threw her arms around his neck and exclaimed, “I’m free!”

Wrapping his arms around her, Killian lifted her off her feet and swung her around in his own exuberance, their laughter, full of joy and relief, echoing off the stone wall and surrounding trees.

Setting her back onto her feet, Killian cupped her face and assured her, “You and Henry won’t have to spend another night here. After today, you won’t ever have to set foot in this place again.”

Uncertainty clouded the delight in her eyes, her worry manifesting as she chewed her lip before asking, “But… where are we to go? How am I to provide for myself? For Henry? I have no plan--”

Reaching up, Killian scratched at the back of his ear and confessed, “Actually, I’ve already taken the liberty to make those arrangements for you, in the hopes of such an outcome. Granny has agreed to give you a room at the boarding house. You’ll have lodging and meals in exchange for domestic help, as well as a fair wage to help you get back on your feet. You can have Henry with you at all times, and will never be far from him whilst you work.”

Swan’s mouth fell open, speechless, until she remembered, “But… Granny has no vacancies. All of her rooms are taken, so how can she--”

“You and Henry will have my room,” he told her, causing her to balk. “It is actually one of the proprietor rooms anyway,” he added. “Located next to the kitchen and removed from the men’s rooms. It was Ruby’s before she married Graham, and will suit you both well.”

“I can’t take your room,” Emma protested. “Where will you go?”

Killian shrugged. “Back to the barracks.” Taking a deep breath, he took her hand in his, brushing his thumb over the backs of her knuckles. “Unless…”

“Unless what?”

Lowering himself to one knee, he kept hold of her hand and gazed up at her astonished face. “Unless you say yes to this next question. Then we can all stay in my room together until we find a place of our own.”

Emma gasped, her free hand flying first to her chest then up to her mouth as tears formed in her eyes.

“I love you, Emma Swan,” Killian declared, pouring out every ounce of his devotion to her. “You and Henry. I want you to be… I want us to be a family. I want to be your husband, and I want to be Henry’s father, so… What do you say, Swan? Will you marry me?”

“I…I,” she stammered, before a wide grin broke across her face. “Yes!”

Surging up off his knee, Killian’s lips crashed against hers. His hands tangled in her hair and fisted the back of her dress as she clung to him with the same jubilant desperation.

“I love you, too,” she murmured, their foreheads pressed together as they attempted to catch their breath. Her eyes flicked up beneath her lashes, her gaze clear and unburdened for the first time since they’d met. “I want to be your wife, and more than anything, I want you to be Henry’s father.” Her eyes fluttered shut and she released a shuddering exhale. “Though, I suppose, if I’m honest, I already consider you his father. You are his father, in every way that matters.” Locking her gaze with his once more, she reaffirmed, “And we both love you, so yes. Killian Jones, I will marry you.”

Knowing they had people waiting to celebrate Swan’s freedom kept them from losing themselves in one another completely. After a few more moments of exploring the newfound freedom to express their love for one another, they made their way back to the prison. Upon entering through the main door, they spotted an assembly gathered on the catwalk overhead.

“Well?” Elsa called out, practically bouncing on the balls of her feet.

Emma smiled, and shared a brief glance with Killian before she shouted, “I’m free!”

The cheers and exuberant sounds clanging off the prison bars was damn near deafening, but it somehow managed to increase in volume and enthusiasm when Killian pulled Emma into his arms and announced, “And… She said yes!” before kissing her soundly.

~/~

The surf gently lapped against the shore as the setting sun warmed Killian’s face. Breathing in the salty brine, he shuffled his feet in the sand, his toe, still bare, with his shoes hanging off the fingers of his left hand, skimmed against something hard. Glancing down, he could see the iridescent pink of a shell peeking out from the fine particles, and a smile pulled at the corners of his mouth as he bent down to pick it up.

Turning the lustrous object over in his hand, he was reminded of the promise he’d given his Swan, his wife, at Christmas, and pocketed it before turning back to see if she was ready to depart. Although, he knew getting her to leave would take some coaxing.

A few of their friends still lingered, perhaps wishing to give the newlyweds some sort of send off, but most had already taken their leave. Although they had wanted a small, quiet affair, neither of them had truly anticipated how many from the community and beyond would insist on witnessing the vows they’d exchanged here on the beach only a few hours ago, and if he had to hazard a guess, Killian would say that at the end of it all, neither he nor his bride would have had it any other way.

That did not mean his sister-in-law was off the hook for arranging the lavish affair behind their backs, even if Killian was impressed that she had managed to do so in only three short weeks.

Three weeks.

Three weeks since Swan’s pardon. Three weeks of watching the transformation that had begun behind stone walls come to fruition as she stepped out of the shame and shadows of her past and into the full confidence of a bright and happy future. And it would be happy, he’d make certain of that. They were already off to a good start.

“Captain! She told me to tell you she is nearly ready,” Belle called out, stepping out from behind a partition and taking hold of Will Scarlet’s hand, pulling him along. “Henry is almost finished with his feeding. She thought you’d want to tell him goodnight before Liam and Elsa--”

“Aye,” Killian said, quickening his pace towards the partition where Emma had excused herself to nurse Henry, giving him his final feeding for the day in the hopes he would sleep through the night in his aunt and uncle’s care, so Killian and his bride could enjoy an uninterrupted wedding night.

“Thank you both so much for coming,” Killian told the pair. Though he meant it, the words were more manners than anything else at the moment, eager as he was for everyone to leave so he could finally have some alone time with his wife.

“It was our pleasure,” Belle responded, smiling up at him. “You both deserve all the happiness.”

One of the women helping to clean up from the reception called out to Belle, and she excused herself to lend a hand, leaving the captain and one of his former inmates standing awkwardly with one another.

“I, uh… I want to thank you for… you know. Letting me be here today,” Scarlett said clumsily.

“It wasn’t my doing,” Killian told him, causing the man to wince. “No, I meant…” Killian sighed. Scarlet was a decent man. He’d proven as much with his steadfast friendship to Emma. Not to mention, his willingness to work hard and become a model prisoner whilst also earning the affections and trust of one of the kindest and cleverest women he knew. “Elsa and Belle, they planned all of this, and it was you who earned your parole in time to be here. So, while I am glad you were able to be here to stand in support of Emma and me, I had nothing to do with either the invite or the ruling.” Placing a hand on the man’s shoulder, Killian gave it a squeeze and said, “That’s all I meant.”

Scarlet nodded dubiously, clearly unconvinced. Not by Killian’s assertions that he was glad Scarlet had come to the wedding, but rather, “Nothing to do with the ruling, huh? I suppose the letter of support from the Captain of the Guard was from a different captain, then? Captain o’ the Fairy people, perhaps?”

“All right,” Killian replied in a tone of mock exasperation. “Maybe I had something to do with it.”

Scarlet’s impudence softened in his features, replaced by an expression of gratitude, albeit an awkwardly bashful one. “Yeah, well… thanks, Cap’n. Truly.”

“Just promise me I won’t regret the things I said in that letter,” Killian replied pointedly. “You’ve a second chance. Don’t waste it.”

“Oh, believe me, Cap,” Scarlet said, his eyes cutting towards the object of his affection. “I intend to make the most of my second chance.” Turning his attention back, he stuck out his hand towards Killian. “I won’t let you down.”

Accepting the proffered hand, Killian shook it and mused, “No. I don’t think you will.”

In his periphery, Killian caught sight of Emma making her way out from behind the partition, prepared to hand Henry off to Elsa. Just as it had when he’d watched her walk towards him along the beach, escorted by Mother Superior, and looking utterly ethereal in her ivory colored dress with delicately intricate lace detail, her hair swept up in soft braids and embellished with baby’s breath, Killian’s heart stuttered and his breath caught in his chest. She was stunning, and she was his. Just as he was hers.

Vaguely aware that Scarlet had said his farewells and joined Belle, Killian made his way to his wife who was fussing over Henry.

“He should have everything he needs in the bag,” she said, laying the groggy babe in the buggy. Henry wiggled and settled into place, rubbing his eyes and releasing a yawn. “If he gives you any trouble we’ll only be a few blocks--”

“We’ll be fine,” Elsa assured her, pulling Emma away from the carriage and giving her a tight hug. “You two enjoy your evening, and don’t worry about a thing.”

Giving them both a knowing wink, Elsa steered the buggy towards the main road where Liam was waiting, finishing his hosting duties as he bid farewell to the remaining guests on Killian and Emma’s behalf. Killian gave his brother a wave of thanks, then grabbed his bride’s hand, urging her down the beach and away from well-wishers so they would not be delayed in their escape.

Laughing, Emma followed after him. “In your haste to get me alone, I believe you have taken us the wrong way,” she teased. “The boarding house is the other way.”

“Aye,” he replied, slowing his pace and threading his fingers with hers. “But we aren’t headed to the boarding house.”

“We aren’t?”

“No,” he replied, his eyes full of a mischievous glint as he gave her a lop-sided smile. “I have a surprise for you.”

Another laugh bubbled from her chest. “I’m not sure I can take many more of those today.”

Killian knew the feeling. The entire day had been a wonderful surprise, filled with so much love and joy. Of course, they had known they would be married today, but both had been under the impression the affair would be small and subdued, with only a scant few in attendance. When he’d arrived at the venue, the beach being the one place both he and Emma had immediately agreed upon for the ceremony, Killian had realized that would not be the case.

Naturally, Liam and Elsa were there, each of them standing by Killian and Emma’s side, respectively. On the front row was Granny, holding little Henry in her lap as Ruby and Graham sat beside her, keeping the lad entertained. It was because of Graham that the entire Misthaven guard staff had been able to attend. He had brought a few of his own officers from Glowerhaven to oversee the prison, and it had meant so much to look out among the assembly and see his fellow officers seated in the crowd, many with their own lady loves at their sides. Indeed, the sheer number of attendees had been a bit overwhelming, but every bit of anxiety and nerves had left him when Emma had made her appearance.

They’d promised themselves to one another at the edge of the surf with the early evening horizon as their backdrop. Bishop Merlin - who was filling in for Bishop Spencer while the man took an unexpected sabbatical, mostly likely prompted by the rumors that had emerged from the Board’s investigation of Sydney Glass and their statements regarding Emma’s pardon - officiated the ceremony and had declared them husband and wife even as the cheers and whistles had already begun. It had taken every ounce of Killian’s patience and propriety to endure the reception that had followed, eager as he was to consummate their marriage. Given the glances, tinted with longing and desire, that caused a healthy glow to blush her cheeks, Killian knew his Swan had felt much the same.

“Mother Superior had some intriguing news to share,” Emma said, filling the silence with a slight warble in her tone. Wedding night jitters setting in, perhaps?

“Oh?”

“She said Bishop Merlin plans to reopen the Misthaven Convent in Spencer's absence. She and the other nuns will likely be returning by summer’s end. Isn’t that wonderful news?”

“Aye,” Killian replied. “I’ll have to let Liam and Robin know so they can reestablish the relationship between the convent and the prison.”

“Why Robin? Was he the liaison before the convent closed?”

“No,” Killian hedged, slowing their steps and bringing them to a stop. “I was. As captain. But, uh… that will be Robin’s duty now.”

“What? Why?”

Gesturing towards the building in front of them, Killian replied, “Because of this.”

Emma’s head snapped towards the structure, a modest yet charming house that sat atop a small bluff overlooking the waves. With furrowed brow, she glanced back at Killian, her question knitted in the tight lines of her forehead.

“It’s the Harbour Master House,” he explained. “The current Harbour Master has no use of it, being an older, single gentleman who prefers to reside in the apartment over his office at the docks, so I negotiated for it when he offered me the position of Wharf Captain.”

“You… You took a new position? You’re leaving the prison?”

Killian gently took both her hands in his and ran his thumbs over the backs of her knuckles. “These past few weeks have made it clear to me,” he began quietly. “I don’t belong there any longer.” A heavy sigh left his chest. “The prison has been an important part of my life for so long, but now I have something of even greater importance. You and Henry. I want to share every part of my life with you both, and I cannot do that if I remain at the prison.”

“Of course you can,” she insisted, squeezing his hands. “You know I would support you no matter--”

“I know that, love,” he said, cutting her off softly. “But I also know how difficult it would be for you, visiting me at work, bringing Henry by to say hello. Especially with your old cell just across the hall from my office, which believe me, is its own brand of torture to me each day I patrol those corridors. Besides,” he murmured, turning her attention back towards the house. “Unless Liam resigns as warden, I could never hope to achieve a benefit such as this in my current position. Plus… I rather fancy the idea of working at the docks. I always did prefer the sea to the country, remember?”

“I remember.” Her quiet smile and nostalgic expression told him she too was thinking back to those midnight talks all those months ago.

Pulling her towards the front of the house, Killian continued to sell her on the idea of it being their home. “It has a lovely parlor, big enough to entertain guests, and the kitchen overlooks a small garden area with the sea just beyond.” Gesturing to the second story, he went on, “Our bedroom also faces the ocean, and across the hall is a decent sized room for Henry to move into once he’s ready to leave ours, and just next to that is a third room for when we…” Pausing, he glanced down at Emma who was adoringly staring up at him, having already ascertained who the third room might be for. “That is… if you’d want another. I would not wish to presume, and you would still be close enough to the boarding house to continue working there, should you choose to. I only--”

She cut off his words with the press of her mouth, the lifting edges of her smile brushing against his lips. “It’s perfect.” Flicking her gaze up at him, she coyly said, “Why don’t you take me inside so I can see these extra rooms for myself. Then we can begin working towards filling them.”

A wide grin broke over Killian’s face, and Emma gave a soft shriek when he picked her up into his arms. “As you wish,” he responded with a growl, carrying her over the threshold of their future. Placing her back on her feet, his arms circled her waist as he murmured, “Welcome home, Mistress Jones.” Crashing his lips to hers, he kicked the door closed behind them, all the while kissing her… with great conviction.

The End

Tagging the Curious Crew: (add to tag list)

(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.) @kmomof4 @sals86 @jennjenn615 @darkcolinodonorgasm @artistic-writer @courtorderedcake @winterbaby89 @snowbellewells @heavenlyjoycastle @sunshine2632 @stahlop @resident-of-storybrooke @kday426 @cocohook38 @unworried-corsair @aprilqueen84 @tiganasummertree @ilovemesomekillianjones @ultraluckycatnd @wyntereyez @ultimiflos @superchocovian @qualitycoffeethings @facesiousbutton82 @theonceoverthinker @piracytheorist @shardminds @skystar87 @teamhook @itsfabianadocarmo @xarandomdreamx @queen-serena88 @donteattheappleshook @jrob64 @therooksshiningknight @karl0ta @melly326 @nadine200179 @xsajx @demisexualemmaswan @lfh1226-linda @alexa-fangirl-forever @klynn-stormz @onceratheart18 @monosalvatore16 @jonesfandomfanatic @ouatpost @spaceconveyor @natascha-ronin @zaharadessert @earanemith @dragonfireonthehorizon @strangestarlighttree @the-darkdragonfly @heratulipsia @pirateherokillian @sailtoafarawayland @captainirishstubble @uhthreeyuh @justanotherflailgirl @elizabeethan @xhookswenchx @youherotype @chinawoodfan @batana54 @fandomlovver @pcrcabcth @strangestarlighttree @captainswan21 @karlyfr13s @emmythedaydreamer @motherkatereloyshipper @jadehowlettthewolf @anmylica @deckerstarblanche @julesep3026 @teastarsandplayingcards @swancakes @bluewildcatfanatic @pirateprincessofpizza @jackieorioncat @an-overly-caffeinated-introvert @bigfunguschungus @veiled-in-moxie

#cs ff #csff #cs fic #cs au #captain swan #cs 1800s prison au #conviction #complete #words by hollye

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pianjeong · 4 years

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stemverse aka the expanded earth sci zuko au

brought to u by ur local earth sci major; ty to the crime fam for supporting me in making this post and @itszukkatime for coming up w like half of these

zuko is an earth science major

- bitchfather ozai (business dude) is one of those ppl who devalue the humanities and made zuko do a stem major. zuko hates this but ozai kinda...pays for school so he has no choice. this goes on UNTIL he discovers earth science and his visual learner brain goes !!!!

- bitchfather disapproves bc he’s a climate change denier but cannot say anything bc it is stem

- zuko also double majors in literature bc fuck u dad and he has very strong disaster theatre gay energy: he does not sleep and sees no problem with this; also subsists on ramen and asian snacks even tho he can cook perfectly well

sokka is an engineering/lit double major

- he meets zuko in intro to american lit (why did i do that i hate american lit) and bond over the things they carried (the vietnam war novel) and shared family trauma aka hakoda being/having been deployed and zuko having the worst home life/no friends

- originally they both lived in single rooms but then one dorm flooded and a bunch of the assignments had to get shuffled around so eventually they become roommates

katara is a computer science major

- she will physically fight anyone who says women shouldn’t be in cs/stem. zuko joins her even tho she’s told him a hundred times that she’s fine; he just wants to beat ppl up

- she also joins zuko and aang (environ sci major/environmental activist) in committing minor acts of ecoterrorism

suki is a political science major and is in a sorority

- ty lee (psych major) hangs out with a really toxic sorority bc all her sisters were in it but Hates It There...but once she meets suki she ends up joining her sorority and havin a great time. she also plays the sousaphone in marching band bc just imagine the image

- azula is a business major and captain of the division 1 volleyball team

- mai plays the piccolo yall just need to know this.

piandao is zuko’s mineralogy professor and also advisor for his major

- he also teaches swordfighting at his studio a little off campus which zuko and sokka both go to (and don’t KNOW that they both go to and piandao sets them up by giving them both spare keys and after hours permission)

- he’s the local iconic gay professor (based heavily on MY iconic gay professor) he owns a shirt that says “queer scientist” and is dating jeong jeong, who is a chaotic dirt gremlin who somehow got tenure (he’s a field geologist who was forced to teach a class by the department)

-- toph is also a chaotic dirt gremlin who decided that jeong jeong would be her advisor and did not look back. their combined energy can and probably will bring a building to the ground

iroh owns the local boba tea shop

- literally everyone goes there to hang out and do schoolwork

- zuko works there bc he needs money and loves his uncle the only thing he doesn’t like is that ppl who know him (not the gaang obvi but just random folks) see him there

#stemverse #it's a TAG now yall #fic is in progress dkskskdjs #atla #text #*#zukka #pianjeong

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ecoamerica · 2 months

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youtube

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

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kmomof4 · 3 years

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CS AU- Coming to Storybrooke (1/5)

It’s FINALLY here!!!!!! I’ve only been talking about this fic for over a YEAR!!! I’m so excited to finally share it with all of you!!!

I have to acknowledge and send all the love and internet hugs to all those who helped me with this fic. I can truly say that I would have given up on it LONG AGO without them.

First to @hollyethecurious. She was my brainstorming partner and never-ending fount of encouragement. She pulled me back from the brink of deleting this fic entirely so many times. So when I say that this fic wouldn’t be here without her, I’m not exaggerating.

Second to @profdanglaisstuff. The best beta in the world!!!! Her suggestions and insights make this writing business so much better! Thank you, babe!

And finally to all the ladies on the @captainswanmoviemarathon discord. Y’all’s encouragement and sprinting dates helped keep me motivated and got me over the finish line.

This fic is a S1 Canon Divergence, sort of, inspired by the 1988 Eddie Murphy movie Coming to America. It is complete with five chapters and I’ll be updating every Saturday.

Fic Summary: Prince Killian of the Enchanted Forest refuses to marry the woman that his brother has chosen for him, so he travels to Storybrooke in the Land Without Magic to find his own bride.

Rating: T for some strong language

Words: Ch1 2224 of 18K Total

Tags: S1 Canon Divergence, Inspired by Coming to America, Neal is an idiot, romantic fluff

AO3 Link

Tag LIst: @hollyethecurious @winterbaby89 @snowbellewells @stahlop @resident-of-storybrooke @jennjenn615 @kingofmyheart14 @profdanglaisstuff @branlovestowrite @thisonesatellite @ultraluckycatnd @flslp87 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @let-it-raines @shireness-says @kymbersmith-90 @darkcolinodonorgasm @bethacaciakay @searchingwardrobes @ilovemesomekillianjones @teamhook @aprilqueen84 @qualitycoffeethings @superchocovian @artistic-writer @donteattheappleshook @doodlelolly0910 @seriouslyhooked @tiganasummertree @lfh1226-linda @nikkiemms @xsajx @klynn-stormz @jrob64 @wefoundloveunderthelight @zaharadessert @elizabeethan @xhookswenchx @gingerpolyglot @allons-y-to-hogwarts-713 @sailtoafarawayland @justanother-unluckysoul @veryverynotgoodwrites @jonesfandomfanatic @deckerstarblanche

Please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed.

Under the cut unless Tumblr ate it

Ch1

“Oh, she’s beautiful,” David whispered, awestruck.

Tears filled his eyes as he looked through the door at his other True Love. The little girl sat cross legged on the bed and slowly turned a page of the book in front of her.

David stared, dumbfounded, as a firm resolve filled him.

“We can’t waste another second,” he stated, vehemently. “We can’t wait another second.” He took a step toward the door when Snow’s softly spoken wait stopped him. “What? What’s wrong?” he asked, looking at his wife.

Her eyes were glued to their daughter until they skittered away to their surroundings and the door in front of them. Anywhere but at him.

“We can’t go through there.”

David was stunned, incredulity coloring his features. “Snow, we have to.”

She continued as if she hadn’t heard him. “If we go through that door, Emma will never become the savior.”

He turned back to the open door. To his daughter. He was heartbroken. He knew exactly what Snow was thinking. If they went through that door, they condemned their subjects, their friends, their family, to live under Regina’s curse, separated from their own loved ones, forever. But that couldn’t be true. Rumplestiltskin said to keep the child safe and she would return on her 28th birthday. No mention was made about the circumstances of her return, only that she would.

“She’ll have a new destiny.” He looked at Snow again. “With us. We will teach her. We will tell her everything. And when her 28th birthday arrives, we’ll all come back and she will break the curse.”

Snow’s tear filled eyes finally turned to him. “How do you know?”

“This family finds each other. We’ve found each other,” he said, taking her hands. He tilted his head slightly toward the open door, “We’ve found Emma. We will find the rest of our family when it’s time for her to break the curse.”

He saw the moment doubt was swallowed up by hope in her eyes. With a small nod and a smile, they turned and walked through the door.

Together.

~*~*~*~

18 years later

Emma Swan sat in the back seat of the family SUV with her brother Leo as they sped through the backwoods of rural Maine toward an uncertain and possibly perilous future. It was her 28th birthday and it was the day that her parents had been preparing her for ever since they came through the closet door to claim her so long ago.

The scenery outside her window went hazy around the edges as she got lost in the memory of the first time she met her parents. She hadn’t been frightened when these two strangers entered her bedroom through her closet door. Something about them seemed familiar. She knew in her marrow that she could trust them and when the woman fell to her knees with tears in her eyes, her arms open wide, and calling her name, Emma hadn’t hesitated to run into them. She rose to her feet with Emma held tightly in her arms, sobbing into her hair and placing kisses all over her face. Emma only caught snippets of what the woman was saying, but the words I’m your mom, I love you, we’ll never leave you, we’ll always be together sent Emma’s heart soaring. It was exactly what this little lost girl had always longed to hear. The man wrapped one arm around them both and cupped the back of her head with the other. She had never felt so safe and loved in all her life.

Now all these years later, it was time to fulfill her destiny. It wasn’t long after their reunion that they settled in Portland, Maine and her parents told her a story. A story through the pages of the book that her mother had brought through the door with her. A story that was more than just a fantasy. It was true. All of it. It was their story. It was her story. The story of where she came from… and what she was meant to do. Beginning with the day she was born, her parents told her why they had to get her to safety. How Doc of the Seven Dwarves delivered her only minutes before her father placed her in the magical wardrobe and the queen’s curse swept over the land. From there, they told her the true story of how Snow White and Prince Charming met and fell in love - very different from the Disney version - her mother’s history with the Evil Queen and how her father came to be in the position to even meet his True Love. She’d become intimately familiar with all the true stories in the book as she grew up, first her, then her brother Leo, and now it was time for her to save them all. She had to admit to being rather nervous about it. It was one thing to hear the story from her parents and believe it because of how young she was and because she trusted them. But it was entirely different to be a grown woman and solely responsible for bringing back all the happy endings for real people that her parents knew and loved. She was about to see everything from the storybook come to life.

Suddenly, her mother’s excited voice from the front seat roused her from her musings.

“There it is, David!” she exclaimed. “The town line!”

“I see it, I see it,” he replied.

Moments later, they crossed the town line and a chill passed over Emma’s entire body before something exploded out of her that nearly made her dad lose control of the car.

“What the hell was that?” Emma cried as her mom and brother shouted in alarm. She reached toward Leo’s shoulder while her other hand tried to find purchase on the door handle as her dad brought the car back under control. She looked out the window and saw a white shimmering something traveling across the sky toward the town. She saw her mom, dad, and brother craning their necks to see it too.

“I think…” her mom began, “that you just broke the curse, honey.”

“That’s it?” she asked, incredulous. “Just crossing the town line? That was all it took?”

“Apparently so,” her dad answered. “But that doesn’t mean we don’t still have to be on our guard.” His grip on the steering wheel tightened and his brow furrowed. “We don’t know what we’re going to find when we get to town. Regina and the Dark One are presumably still here somewhere.”

Silence reigned as they continued to drive toward the center of town in the direction of the white blast. A few minutes later, they turned onto the main street of the small town. Filling the street in front of them, people were laughing and hugging each other in reunions that were 28 years overdue. Her dad slammed on the brakes as her mom cried out, her hands flying to her mouth.

“Ruby! Granny!” She bolted from the car and ran toward a leggy brunette and older matronly woman. Emma could see the surprised joy on their faces as they turned and ran toward her mother. Emma and Leo got out slowly as their dad ran toward his wife as she embraced the two women. They approached the reunited and happy foursome just as seven men got their mom’s attention. Wide grins broke out on Emma and Leo’s faces as realization came over them. Snow White and the Seven Dwarves. Emma could hear her mom’s sobs as she tried to embrace them all at once. Once she’d finished greeting her dearest and oldest friends, her mom turned toward them.

“Everyone,” she began, “these are our children.” Her mom motioned them closer. “Emma and Leo.” Her brother suddenly looked quite different from the brash and bold teenager she knew. He looked equal parts dumbfounded and like he’d like to melt into the ground. Her father didn’t miss a beat. He grabbed his son’s shoulder and started introducing him individually to the dwarves, placing his arm around him.

“Emma?” asked Granny, drawing her attention again. “The Savior?” The old woman took steps toward Emma and tenderly cupped her face with her hands before kissing her on the cheek and drawing her into a hug. Emma knew the elderly woman from the storybook, but to be held in her arms in love and acceptance was nearly as good as the hug she received from her parents when they came for her.

“Papa,” another man further up the street shouted. He ran toward an older man that was walking toward the group with the aid of a cane.

The man turned, his face infused with disbelieving joy as the cane dropped and he took a hesitant step toward the other man. “Bae?”

Emma could feel the tears forming in her eyes as the men embraced each other. She had done this. She was the savior and she had given all these people the happy endings that the Evil Queen had taken away all because she refused to place the blame for the death of her love where it truly belonged. She turned back toward the crowd again as more reunions were taking place. She saw her parents embracing a red haired man with a dalmatian. Jiminy Cricket, she remembered.

Just at that moment, a joyous cry reached their ears and they all turned toward the sound. A young woman with wild brown hair and wearing nothing more than a dirty white shift ran toward the still embracing men as she launched herself into the older man’s arms and kissed him. A rainbow blast burst from them startling everyone gathered. They separated as the blast flew through the air and yet also concentrated around the man. The young woman’s eyes grew wide as the rainbow light grew brighter and brighter around him before finally fading away to nothing. The man had tears running down his cheeks as he reached for the young woman again. Emma watched her melt into his arms and could just hear him murmur, “Belle. It’s gone. You saved me.” The kiss they shared made Emma’s cheeks flame as she turned toward her dad.

“Huh,” he said. “Rumplestiltskin has a True Love. Who would have thought that?”

The couple separated again and the man she now knew was Rumplestiltskin, the practitioner of the darkest magic in the realm, the man that she had always thought of as the puppet master, since he seemed to have a part in every single story in the book, gathered both the young woman and the younger man to him as the three made their way toward their own group.

“Dark One,” her dad greeted the man with a curt nod.

“No more,” he answered, raising his chin just a bit. “Belle’s True Love’s Kiss just destroyed the Darkness. With my son here, I was ready to let go of the Darkness and find my happiness with my family beside me.”

Then a stately woman in a nun’s habit approached them.

“Your highnesses,” she began with a bow, “the curse is indeed broken. As is the Darkness that made the Dark One.”

Her dad reached out and placed a hand on the woman’s shoulder. “Blue,” he said. “Thank you.” He turned back toward the crowd and raised his voice in an exuberant shout. “The curse is broken and the Darkness is no more!” The gathered crowd cheered along with him. Emma wiped away her tears and met the eyes of the man that had embraced the former Dark One. His eyes twinkled as he grinned broadly at her. She felt her heart rate increase and cheeks flush again as she turned her eyes back toward her parents.

It was moments later when she felt a presence at her back. She turned around and found herself captured by a pair of laughing brown eyes.

“Neal,” he said, holding his hand out for her to shake. He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head as if a sudden headache had come over him. “Baelfire. Neal Cassidy was my cursed name. But you can call me whatever you want.” He smiled again.

She took his hand and smiled back. “Emma,” she replied. “It’s nice to meet you, Neal.”

She could see her mom and brother over Neal’s shoulder exchange a stern and sheepish look. She knew that Leo, at 17, would love nothing more than to tease her about the man in front of her, but thankfully, their mother caught his eye before he could. She rolled her eyes at them before directing her attention back to him.

“Uh, thanks,” he said, “for uh, breaking the curse.” She couldn’t help but smile wider at his clumsy attempts to make small talk.

“You’re welcome?” she answered, with a shrug. “I mean, I didn’t really do anything, just crossed the town line…” she trailed away.

“But, I m-mean,” he stammered, “it was more than that. You…” he shrugged helplessly, apparently at a loss for what to say next. “Listen,” he said, brightening, “Could I show you around town? Maybe buy you a cup of coffee?”

Emma grinned widely. “I’d like that.” She looped her arm through his and he led her away from the rest of the crowd.

#coming to storybrooke #krystal writes #ch1 #inspired by coming to america #cs ff

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teamhook · 3 years

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WIP GAME

Maybe I should actually start participating in these fun, lovely things that people keep tagging me in!

Rules: Post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Send me an ask with the title that most intrigues/interests you and I’ll post a little snippet of it or tell you something about it!

1 Call me Love - cssns21 2 My Fate is Darkness - ongoing WIP - cssns18 (for shame!) 3 Un-Kissable - never been kissed cs au - ongoing WIP 4 Think Like a Woman - what women want cs au - ongoing WIP 5 Always, Always a Bridesmaid - 27 dresses au - birthday fic for @ultraluckycatnd 6 Finding Hope - august rush cs au - birthday fic for @hookedonapirate 7 Emma and Killian - kate and leopold cs au - csmm ongoing WIP 8 Burlesque - yeah, burlesque cs au - csmm ongoing WIP 9 Chaste Love - 40 yr old virgin cs au - csmm ongoing WIP 10 Payback CS AU 11 I have nothing something 12 Warm Bodies 13 Family Man 14 New in Town 15 Bird on a Wire 16 Roadside Rescue 17 Blast from the past 18 Playing for Keeps 19 Must Love Dogs

I know I need to stop watching movies. I might remove some of them from the doc.

Any of this interest you? Do you want a sneak peek, or do you just want to know a little more about something I’ve listed here? Send me an ask, and I’ll be happy to share more about any of them!

I’m really not sure who has and has not been tagged, but I’m just going to tag away anyhow.

Tagging: @allons-y-to-hogwarts-713 @andiirivera @anothersworld @apiratewhopines @artistic-writer @batana54 @beckettj @bethacaciakay @branlovestowrite @brooke-to-broch @captainodonoghue @carpedzem @chasedancer17 @cocohook38 @courtorderedcake @darkcolinodonorgasm @deckerstarblanche @demisexualemmaswan @djlbg @donteattheappleshook @dovelyheart @elizabeethan @gingerchangeling @gingerpolyglot @holdingoutforapiratehero @hollyethecurious @hookedonapirate @hookedonaswanprincess @hookedonhiddles @ilovemesomekillianjones @imlaxdris71 @itsfabianadocarmo @jarienn972 @jennjenn615 @jonesfandomfanatic @jrob64 @justanother-unluckysoul @k-leemac @karlyfr13s @kday426 @killian-will-do @klynn-stormz @kmomof4 @kwistowee @kymbersmith-90 @laschatzi @lassluna @let-it-raines @lfh1226-linda @lonelyspectator12 @mariakov81 @officerrogers @ohmakemeahercules @onceratheart18 @pirateherokillian @queen-serena88 @resident-of-storybrooke @revanmeetra87 @rumdrum91 @sailtoafarawayland @sals86 @scientificapricot @scribomaniac @searchingwardrobes @seriouslyhooked @shardminds @shireness-says @snowbellewells @spacekrulesbians @spartanguard @stahlop @superchocovian @swanslieutenant @tehgreeneyes @the-darkdragonfly @thejollyroger-writer @therealstartraveller776 @thesschesthair @thislassishooked @thisonesatellite @tiganasummertree @tomeandflickcorner @ultraluckycatnd @veryverynotgoodwrites @wefoundloveunderthelight @wellhellotragic @whimsicallyenchantedrose @winterbaby89 @winterbythesea @xemmaloveskillianx @xrandomdreamsx @zaharadessert

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let-it-raines · 4 years

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Walking the Baseline (1/1)

He’s at the top of his game. She’s in the midst of a comeback. The Olympics are just around the corner, and there’s more than gold medals on the line. There’s secrets and personal lives and a lot more at risk than simply losing, but as most know, Killian Jones and Emma Swan hate to lose.

rating: mature (just to err on the safe side)

a/n: Hello, hello, my darlings! I was informed of the @captainswanolympics as I’ve missed so much in my time of only checking messages and posting YWUSS, and I just had to write a tennis AU. If you know me, you know I played tennis back in the day, worked behind the scenes for a professional tennis tournament, and am an avid fan, so the fact that I haven’t written more CS tennis is surprising. lol.

This one is short and sweet, and it’s the first CS I’ve written in months. So I genuinely hope you enjoy it. And no, you don’t have to know tennis to understand 🎾

ao3: | here |

tag list: @qualitycoffeethings @mrtinski @klynn-stormz @scarletslippers @jonirobinson64 @snowbellewells @therealstartraveller776 @thejollyroger-writer @sherifemma @galaxyzxstark @galadriel26 @idristardis @karenfrommisthaven @teamhook @spartanguard @searchingwardrobes @jamif @shireness-says @ultimiflos @nikkiemms @onepunintendid @bluewildcatfanatic @superchocovian @killianswannn @carpedzem @captainkillianswanjones @mayquita @mariakov81 @jennjenn615 @onceuponaprincessworld @a-faekindagirl @scientificapricot @xellewoods @ultraluckycatnd @stahlop @kmomof4 @tiganasummertree @singersdd @tornadoamy @cluttermind @lfh1226-linda @andiirivera @itsfabianadocarmo

-/-

“My legs feel like jelly,” Emma sighs as she sinks into an ice bath. It’s never pleasant, and it may not even help, but it makes her feel better every time. “Like, I don’t think I’m going to be able to walk when I get out of here. I don’t think I can even stand now.”

“You say that after every long match,” David tells her, clicking away at his iPad. There’s no doubt he’s studying her stats and about to pick her apart in a friendly yet incredibly harsh way that is a David trademark. “Is your shoulder okay? Your first serve percentage was up, but your speed was down.”

Yep. He’s so predictable. She knew that was coming the moment she decided to change the speed on her serves.

“I’m fine. I’m tired. I mean, shit, David. It’s like the tour is trying to ruin our bodies. My last two-week break was when? March? It’s almost August, and it’s not going to stop there.”

“You’ve made it before. You can do it again.”

“That’s not encouraging.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“I want you to tell me that I don’t have to do this.”

David looks up from his iPad, brow raised, and she knows she’s not going to get the answer she wants. He doesn’t tell her she can quit unless they’re in a heated argument after disagreeing on her service motion or her footwork, which will always be her downfall when she’s exhausted, or any other aspect of her game. That’s what happens when your coach is not only your couch but also your older brother.

“I’m not going to say that. You’re in the quarterfinals. You play against Svitolina, who you have an excellent record against, and then in the semis, it could go either way with French or Stephens. That’s who we’re worried about. We’re not thinking about the finals until we’re in the finals.”

“I’m not thinking about just the finals. I’m thinking about the fact that I played Madrid, Rome, Roland Garros, Eastbourne, Wimbledon, Washington, here. And now I’m supposed to fly to Rio for the Olympics, then fly to Cincinnati, and then New York. And after New York, we almost immediately fly to Beijing, and it doesn’t stop. I get, what? A month and a half off, but it’s not really off time because we spend that time fixing everything for next season. The only way I get a break is if I lose or I get injured, and I don’t want either of those things.”

Emma’s chest heaves as she finishes speaking, the words flying out faster than her mind can come up with them as she runs through her tournament schedule, and David doesn’t blink. He stares at her like he always does, and sometimes she swears it’s like staring at a male version of herself. And she knows what’s coming. She always does. David never got to play past college, the professional circuit too much for his body, and he always pulls the card of how much he would give to be playing right now, to be in her position. She gets it. If she was in his position, she would do the same thing, but right now, all she really wants is to cry.

“You have worked too hard to quit, Emma,” David sighs, giving her a patented big-brother condescending stare. “You are not going to quit. I know this part of the season is rough, but you push through it every year. And imagine how good it’s going to feel when you have a gold medal around your neck or when you have that US Open trophy in your hands. You don’t get to play forever, and you’re the one who said that you weren’t quitting when everyone would have easily expected it. Do you want to prove them right?”

Emma moves in the bath, sinking a little lower, and damn, her sports bra is going to be impossible to get off. Her gaze shifts from David to the TV where ESPN commentators are sitting at a desk, her Nike-approved picture on the screen beside them. They run through the stats of her match and then her overall career stats. She’s twenty-eight, which is apparently at the end of her career according to them, world number seven, which is also abysmal to them somehow, and she is not living up to her potential when she is a former world number one, six-time grand slam champion, and a gold medalist from four years ago in London.

She groans and tries not to think about how much she hates all the people who work for ESPN. They have their favorites and the ones they hate, and since she is not a mediocre American male or one of the all-time greats, she’s somewhere in between. Usually, she doesn’t listen to the comments, to the pundits, to the assholes. She tries to stay away from that because it will drive her into a deep state of negativity, but lately, it’s like she can’t get enough of listening to what people say about her as if it is going to give her some kind of insight to her game.

She doesn’t crave their validation, but maybe, in a twisted way, she does.

“She gave birth sixteen months ago,” Mary Jo sighs. “She came back a year after giving birth. She is not going to be who she was before she had a child. The fact that she’s won enough this year to be in the top ten is amazing when she started with no ranking since there are no tour protections for maternity leave. She’s a champion, and sometimes champions struggle as they get their form back.”

“Sixteen months is a long damn time,” Patrick says, and Emma’s vagina would beg to differ. “She should be back to how she was or she shouldn’t be playing.”

“Have you given birth, Patrick? Because unless you have, I don’t think you get a say.”

“It’s my job to say what I think.”

“Still, I think – ”

The television clicks off, and Emma’s gaze finds its way back to David. “We’re not listening to them. It’ll piss you off. Mary Jo is right. You’re doing amazing, and I don’t want you to forget that.”

Emma doesn’t know if she’s doing amazing, doesn’t feel that way a lot of the time. This job is hard enough, to kill your body while also having the eyes of the world on you, but adding in a baby? It’s nearly impossible. A few other women have done it before her, not all with spectacular returns or returns at all, and she wants to keep getting better and play for long enough that Olivia will be able to see her mom play and remember it.

She’s not just doing it for herself. She’s doing it for her daughter, whose entrance into the world was unplanned, terrifying, and the best damn thing to ever happen to Emma even if she doubts herself in motherhood every day.

“I miss her,” Emma whispers to David, reaching up to play with her necklace, Olivia’s initials engraved in the gold circle. “I don’t know how I’m going to make it two more weeks without seeing her.”

“Do you want me to get Mary Margaret to FaceTime you with her? They’ve been watching your match at home.”

“No, no.” She shakes her head and releases the pendant, her resolve back as she inhales and focuses on her job. “Let’s do the rest of my recovery and talk about the match. I’ll call them when we get back to the hotel. I don’t want to get my mind too much out of the game.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

-/-

She wins her next match. And the next.

She loses in the final.

It stings more than her losses usually do, and there have been a hell of a lot of them, but she wanted to win another premiere event. She’s only been winning small events so far this year and making it to the later stages of the bigger events, but she keeps falling short when it’s time for her to push herself over the limit. Emma knows that her time will come, but she’s exhausted.

-/-

She flies to Rio with the rest of the American team who were playing in Montreal and Toronto, and she sleeps the entire ride down.

It’s the most sleep she’s gotten since she gave birth.

-/-

The 2012 Olympics felt familiar for Emma. The matches happened at Wimbledon, a place she’s known since she was sixteen years old and has watched on TV since she was even younger than that. Tennis players were isolated from the rest of the sports and events, and they all stayed in their usual rented houses and apartments instead of the Village or other hotels. Rio is different and completely unfamiliar. She’s staying in the Village, and while the amenities aren’t the best, the spirit of the Games are everywhere. She’s seeing athletes she’s only ever seen on TV before, meeting dozens of people whose names quickly slip out of her mind no matter how hard she tries to keep them there, and it’s impossible not to get excited to see all of these great athletes gathered together.

When she was a kid sitting in a foster home with David, the two of them wondering if they’d ever have a forever home, they would watch reruns of the Olympics on the TV, just waiting for the live ones to come around. It was an escape to get to watch people only a few years older than them doing these great things, and even after Ruth adopted them and paid for them to play sports, they never could have imagined being here.

Emma, sitting on a park bench outside with prestigious gymnasts walking in front of her, still can’t imagine it, and she’s literally here.

“Am I allowed to sit here or is that considered fraternizing with the enemy?”

Emma glances up and sees Killian Jones already sliding onto the bench in front of her. He’s darker than the last time she saw him in person, his hair longer, teeth possibly whiter, and he definitely hasn’t shaved in a few too many days. But the cocky, almost a little too arrogant, smile is the same, and even if she said no, he would still sit across from her. She knows him well enough to know that now.

“As far as I’m aware, you’re not playing mixed doubles, so I don’t think you count as an enemy.”

“Ah, but, love, Americans and Brits have been enemies since the beginning. That doesn’t change here.”

“Everyone else gets along. You’re just a competitive ass.”

“Indeed I am.” He wiggles his brows and leans forward, smirk stretched across his lips. “So, I was handed a bag full of Olympic-themed condoms when I checked in. Would you like to go try them out?”

“Shut up,” Emma laughs, kicking his leg. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Too many things to count.” He leans back and crosses his arms over his chest, muscles ever-so-slightly bulging underneath his Team Great Britain t-shirt. She’s wearing a similar one with USA emblazoned in the biggest font she’s ever seen. Not a lot of subtly going on at the moment. “Where’s Ruby? David? Any of the other Americans? Shouldn’t you all be eating or practicing or doing something besides sitting on a bench by the water?”

“Shouldn’t you?”

“Touché, Swan. Touché. Will and I were on the way to eat, but I saw you and got distracted. I don’t have practice until later. Rob is forcing me to give myself a break so I don’t exhaust myself after Toronto.”

“Well, you do have old bones.”

“Oi, I am thirty-two and at the top of my game. How many people can say that?”

“Anyone who is not an athlete.”

Killian shrugs and tilts his head to the side, rolling his shoulders. He’s right, though. Killian is playing better than he ever has. He’s always been good ever since he was touted to be Great Britain’s next big thing. She watched for years as the British media slagged him off for not having won Wimbledon despite having won the other majors two times around, but six years ago, he won after a five-hour, grueling match and fell onto the ground. The image was everywhere, and now, every time she’s in London or Wimbledon, that image lines the walls. It’s how she felt when she won the US Open. All of the major are special, but winning your home one, if you’re lucky enough to have one, is something else. And now Killian is world number one once more, has won two majors in a row with several premiere events in between, and with his form, she can’t imagine him losing.

But that’s why you lace up the sneakers. You never know what’s going to happen.

She’s been around the game long enough to know that.

Killian too.

Their paths have crossed for years, mostly because they have the same sponsors and do a lot of promotional events together, but the more they both started winning, the more they’d see each other at tournaments and dinners and everything in between. It’s a busy life, and while there’s time to make friends outside of tennis, sometimes it’s easier to find people in the industry.

She’s not entirely sure she would call Killian Jones a friend.

“Have you eaten, love?” he asks.

“Not yet.” On cue, her stomach growls, and he smirks, not that he really stopped.

“Why don’t you come with me? You can sit with us before we take the bus to the courts for training.”

“What happened to fraternizing with the enemy?”

He leans forward and winks. “For you, I’ll make an exception.”

Emma laughs but nods and stands with Killian as they walk to the main dining hall. It’s packed, the room echoing with conversation and laughter, and Emma and Killian are stopped several times to take pictures and sign autographs, something she will never get used to, before they sit down with Will, Rob, and several other plays from all around the world. For a minute, it’s like they’re in their usual bubble that they live in for the rest of the year with only tennis players around, but then Emma sees Usain Bolt walk by and she knows they’re not.

This is weird.

This is wonderful.

This is almost everything.

-/-

The Opening Ceremonies are long and sometimes boring, and she hates the outfit she has to wear, but she doesn’t know if she’ll get to do this again in four years so she savors it.

She savors it all, walking side by side with Ruby, Ashley, and Anna, and she takes all of it in before her mind switches to work-mode as she runs through her opponent for her first match. The nerves have been pushed down in favor of the experience, but they’re back and in full-force.

She cannot lose in the first round.

-/-

She doesn’t. -/-

She doesn’t lose her next few matches either.

-/-

Emma’s made it to the quarterfinals in both singles and doubles with Ruby after several days of long matches and struggling to see the ball – whoever thought making a fully green court with green side walls for tennis has obviously never played tennis, and she never wants to play on center court again – and she knows she’s one win away from guaranteeing that she plays in a medal-winning match.

It’s a relief and pressure all at once, something she’ll never grow used to, and as the sun sets and the village begins to get loud, Emma sits on her balcony watching the fountains in the lake light up. Ruby is off with Mulan somewhere Emma would rather not know about and will probably not be back to their room until at least tomorrow morning if the look on Ruby’s face was any indication, so Emma thinks she might get a little time to sit down and breathe for a moment, watching different events on TV. She could go watch them, but she doesn’t think her legs will carry her there.

Until her phone buzzes with a text that she quickly answers, and not three minutes later, there’s a knock at her door.

Emma quickly opens it, pulling him inside, and Killian kicks the door closed behind him as he cups her cheeks and kisses her, long and slow but with enough heat simmering below the surface that Emma knows there could be a promise of more later.

She’s seen him nearly every day for the past week, but she’s missed him.

She’s missed this.

His mouth moves expertly over hers in a rhythm that’s been practiced to perfection, and she feels dizzy with his kiss and holds onto his hair to keep her standing up. The Brazilian summer air wafts through the room, coating it in a thick heat, but Emma doesn’t pay any attention to that as heat curls between her thighs, warming her more than the air ever could. Her legs ache from the match, her arms feel heavy, but Killian makes her forget those things as he lays her down on the bed and kisses every inch of her body, spending time with his dark head of hair buried beneath her thighs until she can no longer speak.

Until she can scarcely breathe as well.

She manages to laugh, though, when he pulls out one of the condoms that has the Olympics logo on it, and she and Killian makes jokes about it as he slides into her, a thick sheath of heat that she never gets used to. It’s slow at first, a gentle rocking that keeps her teetering on the edge, but their bodies are tired and worn, and soon, it’s a race to the finish line.

Emma comes in first, not that it matters.

(But it does feel good to beat him.)

(They’re both competitive asses.)

(Even when they shouldn’t be.)

After, they’re both slick with sweat that doesn’t go away as their bodies press together on the small twin bed. Emma almost wishes she had rented a house outside the village like David and some of the other coaches did, but she doesn’t want to give up the experience. And it’s fine, especially as Killian shifts behind her and lets her settle into him, her hips pressing back into his as his arm wraps around to rest on her stomach, fingers occasionally searching out for her breast.

Emma is exhausted, but this is the best she’s felt in weeks.

(She definitely couldn’t walk to any of the events now, and she did want to see Phelps swim.)

“You played bloody fantastic in your doubles match today.”

“Not my singles?”

“I played at the same time as you. I didn’t get a chance to watch.”

Emma hums and leans further back into him. She’s glad Killian did most of the work because just thinking about how much she’s got to move again tomorrow is making her sore. “I played well there too. Straight sets.”

“Atta girl.” His lips press into her neck, stubble scratching across the skin. “I’ve been thinking…”

“Oh, that’s always dangerous.”

Killian laughs but nudges his knee into her, which really only settles his cock between her ass, but she’s too tired to think of doing anything else. “I’ve been thinking,” he continues, “that I’m going to withdraw from Cincinnati and fly home instead.”

“To London?”

“To Palm Beach. I think it might be nice to have a calm week between tournaments to spend time with my girlfriend.”

“Oh really? You’ll have to tell her your plan. I’m sure she’d like that.”

Killian tickles her stomach, making her squirm, before he lightly pinches her side. “Mhm. I thought we might also like to spend time with our daughter since FaceTime isn’t cutting it for me anymore. I swear she’s grown three feet since I last saw her.”

“Four, I think. She’s basically a full-grown adult now with all that walking and talking she’s doing.”

“Has she said any new words I’m not aware of?”

“Nope. She still can only say the three.”

“Good. I’m glad I didn’t miss anything else.” Killian kisses the side of Emma’s neck again, and she twists around, wrapping her arms around him and pressing their noses together as she stares into blue, blue eyes that aren’t diminished by the darkened room. “I think we should bring her to New York with us. Hopefully at least one of us will be there for three weeks, and that’s just too long to go without her.”

“We’re staying in a hotel in New York. In two separate suites, I might add.”

“But we don’t have to.”

“Killian…”

His hand brushes down her side, warmth permeating from the rough fingertips, before it rests on her hip, thumb moving in soothing circles. “I’ve already called and seen if they could give me the Penthouse. It’s an entire floor with private entrances and a private elevator. Our teams can stay with us or they can stay in the original suites we were designated. I know you bring her with you when you can and that I sneak in visits, but I want to be able to stay with my daughter.”

This isn’t the first time they’ve had this conversation, and if she doesn’t say yes to it, it won’t be the last.

Things between she and Killian are complicated. They’re relationship isn’t, not anymore. At first, she couldn’t stand him, thought he was genuinely this cocky asshole from the way he talked in matches and in off-court interviews, like he was God’s gift to the sport or something. Then they ended up both winning in Australia four years ago, and while doing press together, she saw a different, kinder side to him that she hadn’t previously seen when they worked together in Nike promotions.

Fast forward through a lot of early morning calls, late night rendezvous in their hotel rooms, and a heck of a lot of texts and FaceTime sessions, and somewhere along the way, the impenetrable Emma Swan fell in love with the impossible Killian Jones.

They kept it secret, the both of them knowing how vicious the media is to athletes that date each other, especially since Killian was going through a wrist injury that was somehow his fault according to the pundits and that he was getting hounded pretty hard at the time. They didn’t know if it was going to work, neither of them having stellar relationship records, but they figured eventually they would be okay with the world knowing.

Then came the positive pregnancy test, and Emma’s entire world shifted.

She was at the top of her game, at the top of her world, and as hard as it is for her to admit now, she didn’t want Olivia. She wanted to keep living her life the way it was. That was a possibility but not one she was willing to take, so she stopped playing but kept training as she and Killian figured out how they were going to do this.

They’re never home, rarely together, and they were both way out of their leagues. It would have been easier to tell the world they were together, that Killian was the father, but Olivia’s protection is worth more than their ease.

Now, though, looking at the crease between Killian’s brow and the sadness pooled in his eyes, she wonders if they’re doing the right thing.

“I know. I’m sorry. I – ” Emma’s lips quiver, and she nearly cries. She’s exhausted beyond belief and doesn’t know what to do, so she buries her face in Killian’s neck and wraps her arms around him. “Can we talk about this on the plane ride home?”

Emma says home as if they’re going to the same place after this. They’re not. But maybe she should listen to Killian and take the break she’s been craving.

“Aye, love, if that’s what you want.”

She nods and feels his lips ghost over the crown of her hair. “I want to lay here with you and not think about tennis or make hard decisions.”

“You want to talk about how bloody uncomfortable this bed is?”

Emma laughs. “It really makes you miss those awful ones in Paris.”

“You had to ask for a new one.”

“It was so worth it.”

-/-

They FaceTime Olivia in the morning. Mary Margaret has her in a matching outfit to Emma’s uniform, and Killian scoffs that she’s representing America instead of Great Britain.

Emma thinks it’s the best thing in the world, and it reminds her who she’s playing for.

It’s not for her country, not for herself. It’s for her daughter.

Their daughter.

-/-

The next two days drag by and yet she has a difficult time keeping up with them. Her practices are long, recovery longer as her shoulders are massaged and legs are iced, and Ruby has to drag her out onto the court for doubles when all she wants to do is sleep. She’s not used to playing this many matches in such a short period of time, and while having Ruby on court with her helps lessen how much she runs, her legs are still aching.

She’s almost to the finish line. She can make it.

“Those legs are too pretty for you to be dragging them like that,” Ruby jokes as they sit down during a changeover in the third set of their quarterfinal match. Emma reaches for her energy drink and takes a sip before biting into a banana while Ruby shakes her legs.

“I can’t make them move.”

“Yes, you can,” Ruby insists. “You already won your singles today, and we’re four games away from winning this match. I will kick your ass if we don’t win this.”

“Can you kick my ass if it’s already kicked?”

“I can indeed.” Ruby pats Emma’s knees and smiles. “Come on, hot mama. We’ve got this.”

And it’s tough, but they do.

Emma and Ruby go through recovery, and when Emma checks her watch, she sees that Killian’s match is just about to start.

“Do you want to get a bus across the grounds and go watch swimming?” Ruby asks her as David massages her calf. It’s not his job, so he obviously can’t stop complaining about doing it.

“I think I want to watch Killian’s match. Can we get seats in the stadium? Is his box empty?”

“Do you think that’s a good idea?” David asks her as her muscle spasms.

“If we all go, it won’t be suspicious. He’s playing Sam, so they might think we’re supporting the Americans.”

“Aren’t we?”

Her eyes roll. “Not in this situation. Come on. Text Rob and see if we can get into Killian’s box.”

David levels her with a stare, and she knows he’s going to say no, that it’s a bad idea. But then he releases her leg and pulls his phone out of his pocket.

They end up going still dressed in their match clothes, and Emma puts on a sweatshirt, a cap, and sunglasses to hide herself as much as possible. She knows it won’t work considering she’s literally wearing the outfit she has worn all week, but she can at least try. It’s been years since she’s gotten to watch one of Killian’s matches from somewhere other than the locker room or her hotel room, and she’s missed the magic of watching him play. He’s fluid with his motions, even if they are slower than they used to be, and his groundstrokes are powerful from the baseline. She knows from the moment that she sits down that he’s winning this match. She can tell by the way he’s carrying himself and the determination in his eyes. She grabs her phone and snaps a picture just as he looks her way, brow raised in question but a smile on his lips.

-/-

Killian wins his match, and she finds him in the tunnel afterward, his team creating a wall around them, and wraps her arms around him, not caring that they are both disgustingly sweaty or around other people.

“I love you,” she whispers.

“And I you.” The corner of his lips brush against her temple. “You’re amazing, Emma. Bloody amazing.”

“You too, my love.”

-/-

Emma wins the semifinals of both of her matches.

Killian wins his.

They’re both playing in gold medal matches – Emma definitely brags about how she’s playing two while Killian is only playing one – and she wants to vomit.

Holy shit.

-/-

“Say hi to your mommy,” Mary Margaret tells Olivia as Olivia keeps smacking her hand on the screen. “Your mom and dad are there trying to talk to you, Livvie.”

Emma leans her head onto Killian’s shoulder as they both stare into the screen waiting for Olivia to move her hand. She does with some help from Mary Margaret, and then bright green eyes show up. She has Emma’s eyes and dirty blonde hair that’s thick and wavy, but everything else about her screams Killian, especially her smile. Emma has missed that smile.

“Hello, little love.” Killian waves and tries to get her attention, but she couldn’t care less. “Don’t you want to talk to us?”

She makes a noise that isn’t a word, and Mary Margaret sighs. “I’m sorry. She’s been asking about you two, but now that you’re there, she doesn’t care. I tried to tell her what a big deal the two of you were, but she doesn’t care.”

“I’ll have to tell her how incredible her mother is later. She’s going to be the first women to win two singles golds in a row as well as the first mum to do it. And she’s going to have two more medals than me. Showing me up in every category.”

“That’s assuming you win, Jones. I could have three more gold medals than you.”

“I do love a challenge.”

Olivia starts giggling, Emma’s favorite noise on the planet, and she tries to memorize it to keep with her always. She knows Killian does too.

-/-

Emma’s gold medal matches are the day before Killian’s, and she’s jealous he gets a day off to rest. He tells her he’s going to spend the entire time training, sneaking in and out of other events, and watching her matches. She rolls her eyes at his texts because she’s sure he won’t have time to do all of that.

And yet he does.

She sees him in the stands during her doubles match. Ruby points him out when they’re in the middle of discussing serving spots, and Emma laughs at her calling him “lover boy” in a horrible British accent. She always calls him a ridiculous name, and of the few people who know of Emma’s private life, she’s glad Ruby is one of them.

Even if she’s still laughing and double faults on an important point.

It doesn’t matter, though, because within an hour and fifteen minutes, their shortest match of the tournament, she’s on the court’s floor with Ruby sobbing because they won a fucking gold medal.

She gets so little time to savor it, however, because the medal ceremony happens so quickly that she can barely take It all in. She also has press to do, and David has to practically force her into the media room where she and Ruby are hounded with more questions than congratulation as they clutch onto their medals. Ruby handles it like the pro she is while Emma’s nerves start to get the best of her as more people start talking about what she has on the line.

To be the first man or woman to win two gold singles medals in consecutive Olympics.

To win another gold medal for her country.

To be the first mother since Clijsters to win a major tournament.

To win her first big tournament since her comeback.

To have the possibility to win another gold medal in Tokyo in four years if she’s still playing.

It’s a lot, and she knows it. She’s been thinking about all of it every day this week, and her track record of choking in finals lately is pushing at the forefront of her mind.

She doesn’t know if she can do it.

And yet she does.

She laces up her sneakers, pulls her hair back, and takes a deep breath as she blocks everything out of her mind except for her game plan. She knows how the game is played. She’s been playing since she was twelve years old, and even though that’s a late start compared to most people, it’s gotten her here.

Emma walks out of the tunnel as her name is announced over the speakers, and even though all she can hear is the cheer of the crowd, she lets her mind go back to Olivia’s laugh, Killian’s smile, David’s pep talk, Ruby’s ridiculous texts. She thinks of all the things that push her when she wants to stop, and she reminds herself that no matter what happens, she’s done her best.

She could have given up the moment the stick said “pregnant.” She could have packed it all in, but she didn’t. She’s here, and she’s better than any excuse she could come up with not to be.

People have tried to tell her who she is her entire life, but she’s pushed back and said, “no, this is who I am.” Emma still has to do that now, no matter how many times she has proven herself.

The ice bath in Montreal where she wanted to quit seems years away when it was only eight days.

-/-

Emma looks to Ruby then David then Killian as she takes a deep breath on match point. Killian smiles and gives her a subtle nod, and then she raises the ball in the air, ready to toss it.

-/-

Game. Set. Gold freaking medal.

-/-

Afterward, she falls to the ground, her knees aching as they hit the asphalt, and her body can’t stop shaking with her sobs. She doesn’t know what she feels or how she feels or even where she is, and she only gets up from the ground when she hears her family calling for her. She slowly rises from the ground, runs across the court to congratulate her opponent on playing a good match, and then she’s running to the stands and climbing up with David’s help. She embraces him first. She wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for him. he’s been her rock for her entire life, and he keeps her steady. Then it’s her physio and her agent and Ruby. Then, over to the side, is Killian, and their conversation from a few nights ago comes back to her.

She loves him. She’s proud to be with him. They shouldn’t have to hide their family anymore.

They haven’t exactly been doing a good job of it this week anyway.

So Emma very literally pounces on him, her legs wrapping around his waist, before she remembers that he has a match tomorrow. She can’t miss his back up. He’d never let it go if she did. Her feet fall to the ground, but her arms stay wrapped around Killian’s neck as he whispers words of encouragement and congratulations that she’s always going to keep close to her heart, right next to the necklace with the initials O-S-J on them.

Two people thousands of miles apart were brought together by chances, a whole myriad of them. If Ruth hadn’t adopted Emma and David, they never would have picked up a racket. If Emma had never picked up a racket, she wouldn’t have found her purpose in this world. She wouldn’t have a job or a daughter or a man who loves her in spite of how hard she is to love. There was so much that could have derailed her, both good and bad, and while she could say none of it matters, in some way, it all does.

Because it led her here.

And she doesn’t want to be anywhere else even if she would give anything to be able to hug Olivia right now.

“You did so good, Swan,” Killian whispers, his voice the only one she hears.

“I know.”

He pulls back, and there are tears in his eyes that mirror her own. “So, I guess I have to win tomorrow so your bragging rights don’t get too big.”

“Oh, Jones, you are never catching up with me now,” she teases, all of the exhaustion melting away. “I’m miles ahead of you, but you better win. Olivia doesn’t need to be embarrassed by her dad.”

“Pretty sure that’s my job.”

“Right now, your only job is to help me back down onto the court and then go win yourself a gold medal.”

“Don’t tell the presses you’re rooting for a Brit.”

Emma shrugs as Killian thumbs away tears underneath her eyes. “I don’t care anymore, and I’m definitely going to be sitting in your box tomorrow, cheering louder than anyone else.”

-/-

When Killian wins the next night after a torturous four hours, his fall is almost identical to Emma’s. Though, when he climbs into the stands to get to the box, he immediately goes for Emma, cupping her cheeks and kissing her for the entire world to see.

“I guess I’ll have to figure out a way to embarrass our daughter in another way.”

“I think her parents making out on international TV might do just that.”

-/-

Two days after they get home – they spent the entire first day sleeping and holding Olivia – Emma puts on her three gold medals, Killian puts on his one, and they hold Olivia in between them, her toothy smile brighter than the gold as the photo is taken.

Olivia Swan-Jones has a pretty cool mom and a dad who has some catching up to do in the gold medal department.

It’s Emma’s most liked picture on Instagram, not that she cares about any of those things, and it’s the biggest news story for three days straight despite the literal Olympics still happening.

All Emma cares about, though, is that she has a week off – she opted out of Cincinnati after all, despite David’s protests – she can spend with her family before she and Killian are off to New York where the pressure will be the highest it’s ever been and the media will most likely be losing their shit over Emma and Killian’s announcements.

Olivia will be with her, Killian too, and in the end, that’s all that matters.

Oh, that, and the fact that Emma Swan is officially back, and it feels damn good.

-/-

Thanks for reading, my friends! Can’t wait for those 2021 Olympics 🤞and learning about sports I’ve still somehow never heard of. And if you want to talk to me about tennis, I’m fully here to talk about Rafael Nadal’s biceps and how his game is underrated despite being one of the most dominant athletes of all time 💚😂

#walking the baseline #cs fic #cs ff #cs fanfic #cs olympics #captain swan fanfic #captain swan ff #captain swan fic #captain swan #csow

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r0x4 · 4 years

Text

hi here's a modern mailee au

i'm in my third week as a first year Zoom University Student go easy on me

mai's in her first year as a Computer Science major

god i could totally see her falling in love with programming languages,,, also computers are easier to deal with than Real People

she's definitely one of those badass Women in STEM and will kick anyone's ass if they say shit about it

she needs to fill up another unit or two so she said Fuck It and decides to take a Race Racism and Critical Thinking class

insert Ty Lee, a first year Political Science/Asian-American Studies/Ethnic Studies???? major ??? idk but basically Humanities

because i really like STEM x Humanities stories

all of her sisters did dance performance or business or Both and she decided she wanted to pursue something where she could Directly Help People

mai initially wasnt very interested in making more friends outside of Sokka (also a CS major), Zuko, and Azula

but then she gets put into a Breakout Room with Ty Lee who's actually leading the discussion and participating

and then she's like ......alright she knows what she's talking about i like it..........

now mai's not really into social media, she only follows her friends and then some of their friends, but she goes to Instagram to stalk Ty Lee and BOY she's so happy she did

ty lee's one of those people who constantly has her story filled with Political Instagram Posts and her story Highlights are filled to the Brim with Politics (and some friend posts in between)

her instagram is a cute mixture of selfies and informational posts and mai is hooked because cute and educated?

meanwhile mai's own instagram is basically run by azula, with pictures of mai and zuko or zuko and azula. she's mostly a Posts on Story and Lurks type of instagrammer

but anyway she immediately follows ty lee and !!! ty lee !!! follows !!!! back !!!! and if mai cracks a little smile in the middle of the breakout room then No She Didn't

they don't really talk for a while until ty lee pops up in her DMs like "hey you code right???? does that mean you can create a website????"

and mai's like "yea why"

ty lee: well i have an assignment for one of my classes where we need to create a political campaign!!!! i was wondering if you could help me put something together!!!! i'll pay you!!! or buy you dinner!!!!

and mai panics because What the Fuck. does That Mean what she Thinks it means..........

but anyway she agrees and they meet up to discuss Website Stuff

and basically now they text All the Time and eventually the last meeting before the assignment is due ty lee's like "hey i don't know if i'm reading this wrong but something tells me that we'd be good together...... do you maybe wanna be my girlfriend?"

and mai looks at her for a Long Time, enough for ty lee to wanna backtrack and then suddenly mai takes her hand and breathes out "yes" and yea now they r dating (:

if you wanna make this more interesting: there never was any Campaign Assignment. ty lee knows sokka through suki and knows that he shares classes with mai, so she asked for his help on how to get with mai because she's so cool

and basically sokka comes up with an assignment rubric pdf and everything to cover all his bases and tells ty lee to pretend to have this Important Assignment that Requires Mai's help

and now that she's dating mai he asks ty lee if she can maybe get mai to set him up with that cute boy he sees on on her instagram all the time

93 notes · View notes

artistic-writer · 3 years

Text

Sparking the Pavement :: CS Moto GP AU :: Chapter 7

Title: Sparking the Pavement by @artistic-writer Rating: E Summary: Killian Jones has everything he has ever dreamed of. He likes fast bikes and even faster women, that is until almost losing his brother makes him rethink his life choices. And then a chance encounter with a blonde bombshell on the race track gives him the chance to change and find love, but as usual, team politics get in the way and for the first time in his life, Killian can’t just get what he wants. Moto GP racing AU.

AO3 - FF - Ko-Fi

A/N: I FOUND MY TAG LIST! But please let me know if you want to be added/removed as its a little out of date.

So, here is ch 7(or ch 8 if you are on ao3) and i can’t thank you guys enough for sticking with this story, especially as this year hasn’t exactly been full of words. I don’t like this chapter, but my last-minute-ultimate-goddess-beta @resident-of-storybrooke said it was okay, so I have to believe her. Massive thanks to her, and like I said, she is awesome, so go show her some love!

Taglist: @resident-of-storybrooke @hollyethecurious @kmomof4 @hookedonapirate @winterbaby89 @courtorderedcake @initiala @cocohook38 @branlovesouat @teamhook @snidgetsafan @sherlockianwhovian @shireness-says @wingedlioness @therooksshiningknight @ilovemesomekillianjones @bmbbcs4evr @blowmiakisscolin @deathbycaptainswan @onceuponaprincessworld @chinawoodfan @seriouslyhooked @snowbellewells @wordsmith-storyweaver @jennjenn615 @delightfully-difficult-pirate @doodlelolly0910 @tiganasummertree @hookedmom @thejollyroger-writer @rachie1940 @unworried-corsair @cs-forlife @notoriouscs @killian-whump @darkcolinodonorgasm @mariakov81 @strangestarlighttree @shardminds @thisonesatellite

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Killian felt hot. Or was it sick? Or was it both? All he knew was that the second he had seen Emma standing beside his boss - their boss - his entire world felt like it had imploded. To stop the room from spinning, and to help stabilize his frayed nerves that were threatening to unravel even more than they had been since Liam’s death, he had fled like some sort of coward without so much as a word to her. The air outside of the garage hadn’t made it any easier to breathe and the haze clouding his vision, a mixture of tears and dizziness, had him bumping into the wall of the corridor down which he had made his escape.

Killian flattened a palm to the pristine white wall, hoping to steady himself long enough to stop himself falling over, but the weight of his boots tripped him up, and he was only saved from toppling by a firm but gentle grip. The familiar warmth in his hand was grounding and like a newborn taking its first breath, Killian inhaled hard and audibly, the sound almost drowned out by the slamming of the door he had been hastily guided through. Eyes closed, he felt like he was floating away but the warm hands on his face chased away the clammy sensation on his skin instantly and when his eyes fluttered open, he already knew to whom they belonged.

“Emma,” he breathed like it was the only word he knew. The mixture of emotions swarmed through him like hornets attacking prey, suffocating him, stinging him, making him wish that he hadn’t fallen so fast and so hard for the woman tenderly cupping his face in her hands like he was made of the finest china.

“I’m sorry, Killian, I meant to tell you,” Emma said softly. Her thumbs brushed over his cheeks and wiped away the tiny amount of salty tears he had let fall. She felt guilty, of course she did, and she was angry at herself for not telling him, but the minute she had found him playing the piano, his pain had become her pain and there was no amount of truth that would ever make that disappear.

“Stop,” he bit out, shaking his head from her grasp.

“Killian, please,” Emma pleaded, his rejection cutting through her.

His silence broke her heart in two. He was conflicted and she could tell just by looking at him that the pain tearing through his soul was more heartache than any man could take. The room they had bundled into was just a small closet of some kind filled with supplies and faintly smelling of fresh oil, but even in the confined space, Killian still managed to take a step back when she stepped forward.

“Killian, I know you are angry,” Emma began, but the harshness of his quick response took her back.

“Do you?” Killian snapped.

“Of course I do!” Emma snapped back, albeit in a hushed voice.

“How could you?” He stared her down, the warmth from her body radiating through her Honda issue shirt that still smelled of the chemicals used to preserve clothes in transit, making him feel sick to know he might never feel her body against his again.

"This is about me taking the job. Liam’s job," Emma surmised quickly and Killian huffed. "Look, I’m sorry. I didn't know things between us would be so intense."

"We can't be together. Not now." Killian was ranting, sliding away from her back into the depths of sorrow that had filled his soul. Having Liam ripped away from him was one thing, and now he would be losing her too. "I told you things, Emma, things I would never tell anyone." Killian looked down at her with sorrowful eyes, like he wanted to ignore the voice in his head telling him to push past her and run further away.

"Killian, stop,” Emma said firmly, patting his cheek until his eyes met hers. “Breathe,” she whispered, sounding out the word on a breath of her own, forcing him to mirror her actions, in and out, until the quiver in his lip ceased. “I can’t give up this job and I take back how I feel.” Emma closed the gap between them and pressed her forehead against his. “What, you think I meant to fall in love with you?"

“I can’t lose you,” Killian whimpered, pulling his head away from hers.

“And you won’t. Me taking the mechanic job changes nothing. I still hear everything you said, every little detail of your pain.” She stepped forward, one hand flattening over his heart, her fingertip caressing the material of his shirt that threatened to dampen the beating of his heart to her touch. “This,” she began, tapping a finger on his shirt, “still has me. All of me.”

Killian, having let his gaze fall to her hand on his body, and taken back by the electricity he swore he could feel shooting from her fingertips, took a breath and lifted his head until their eyes met once more. His eyes filled with water, not quite tears, but threatening to fall nonetheless, and Emma quickly slipped her hand down his arm and grasped ardently at his fingers.

“All of me, Killian Jones,” she repeated, the lump in her throat changing her voice to a husky rasp. Emma lifted his hand and pressed it to where her heartbeat, quickened by panic and fear of losing the man in front of her. “You’re in here, and I couldn’t cast you out even if I wanted to.”

"Then that day on the track-"

"Was just two people having fun. No malicious intent, I promise. Well, unless you count me taking your bike.” Emma paused, watching the corner of his lips tick up into a glimmer of a smile. “I'll admit, I came to meet you to soften the blow of me taking Liam's job. I just wanted us to get on...” She continued but Killian cut her off with a snort of laughter and a quirk of his eyebrow as he recalled how they had indeed meshed quite well.

“We got on rather swimmingly if I recall.” He smirked and Emma gave his arm a playful slap, glad he was feeling more at ease.

“And to tell you about how I meant no disrespect, but then you kissed me and…"

"I think you'll find, love, that it was you who kissed me," he sassed cheekily.

“Will you stop interrupting me!” Emma chuckled. “I’m trying to make amends here,” she smiled, the apple of her cheeks tinting a rosy shade of pink under his scrutinous gaze. "Does it matter anyway? We have to stop seeing each other now."

"Why?" Killian frowned, clutching onto her elbows to stop her from pulling away from him.

"Our contracts, Killian, you said so yourself. The 'no relationships with colleagues' or instant dismissal clause." Emma wracked her brains for something, anything, that could keep them together, but her close proximity to him made her concentration wane, and all she could focus on was the smell of his aftershave and how much she would miss the scent of wood spice and sea salt on her skin.

"Oh, that little thing." He stepped forward, a sly smirk spreading across his lips as he took her by the hand and pulled her body flush with his. “Little details.”

"I'm serious,” Emma tried to convey, wriggling out of his grasp. “I need this job."

Killian caught her hand in his again and stopped her from retreating to the other side of the supply cupboard. "And I need you, Emma Swan,” he said when her gaze met his once more. Her heart stopped, the lump in her throat catching as she tried to swallow. “This team is built on my success-,”

“Not Will’s?” Emma teased.

Killian narrowed his eyes at her. “You’ve met Will?” he asked with jealousy.

“This team is built on my success,” Emma parroted, prompting him to continue. She looped her arms around his neck and let her body fall against his.

“My point is,” Killian began, gulping hard when the feel of Emma’s body against his made his skin prickle with the sensation of arousal he had come to realise only she could pry out of him.

“Yes?” Emma asked innocently, her fingers stroking the soft, downy hair at the base of his skull and enjoying the way goosebumps appeared in the wake of her fingertips.

Killian clenched his jaw and could hear his teeth squeaking together. “I'm sorry I was a wanker-"

"Yes, you were," she grinned.

"I just didn't want to lose you too, alright?" Killian’s hands snaked around her waist, roughened palms pressing into the flesh of her hip and holding her in place, silently begging her to stay within arms reach.

“You won’t,” Emma promised with a shake of her head. Pushing herself up on her toes as she pulled his head down, she seized his lips in a kiss that was neither needy nor chaste; it just was and the world seemed to stop around them until their lips parted and reality was there once more. "So what do we do now? As cosy as this cupboard is, we are not going to meet in here for our secret workplace rendezvous," Emma said defiantly.

"Quite," Killian agreed, pushing aside something that was jamming him in the back.

"Think you can control yourself around me so we can keep this thing a secret?" Emma tilted her head to one side, somehow not quite believing that she was plotting to secretly date a work colleague on her first day.

"Oh, look at you, already breaking the rules," Killian grinned proudly but Emma just glared at him. "Alright, alright, I'll try."

Stepping forward again, Emma tiptoed to whisper in his ear. "Try hard," she breathed, her hand sliding over the front of his pants until she felt him harden beneath the fabric.

Killian gulped, the falling sensation in his stomach back again, but this time it was driven by lust. His eyes rolled back in his head, tongue darting out to lick at his lips, desperate to remember the taste of her skin. "Hard, aye," he mumbled before a groan reverberated deep in his throat.

"Nope," Emma said suddenly, snatching her hand away from the heat of his length pressing against her palm. "You failed."

"What?" Killian groaned achingly, eyes wide with disbelief.

"You can't even stop yourself from getting an erection, how are we supposed to keep us a secret?" Emma stepped back, arms crossed over her chest but a wry smirk across her face.

"Love, you were rubbing my cock," Killian said defensively, that sly smirk returning as he accentuated the last word with a honey laced timbre to his tone.

"And stop that," Emma quipped with a point of her finger. "Stop pulling that face around me. People will know."

"How will they know?" Killian challenged with a chuckle.

"It's feral and dirty, and so, so…” Emma words trailed off and she hadn’t even noticed the effect touching him had on her own body until her gaze shifted to his slightly parted lips that were still wet from where he had licked them, and she suddenly wished his head was between her legs fixing the ache that had settled between her thighs.

Emma only vaguely remembered seeing him smirk, tongue running over the point of his canine, before she was grabbing the collar of his neatly pressed shirt and was crushing his lips with hers. She heard a clatter, of what she had no idea, but it must have been where Killian had stumbled backwards with the ferocity of her kiss, and she readily ignored it in favour of forcing her tongue into his mouth for a taste of him. Killian pushed back after a beat, hands skimming up her back and cradling the back of her head in one hand, holding her to him as he devoured her kiss, inhaling the scent of her and wishing he was anywhere but at work at that exact moment.

"Can we finish this later on at my place?” He rasped breathlessly, breaking the kiss before his eyes had even fully reopened. “It's bad form to rouse a full mast out of a man and then leave him to fend for himself,” he groaned, the tent in his pants painfully obvious.

Emma grinned slyly but gave him no answer, instead, pulling him in for another kiss, tongue diving into his mouth for another duel with his own. Killian groaned again, anguished by the fact he knew there would be no release for him despite how turned on he was. This time it was Emma who broke the kiss and she sucked on his bottom lip with a feral growl of her own.

"Leave five minutes after me," she rasped, pushing him away from her in an attempt to re-acclimatize to her senses.

“And later?” Killian asked eagerly to which he only received a smirk over her shoulder as Emma slipped out of the doorway, teeth biting her bottom lip hungrily as she winked at him. Killian sucked in a breath, shaking his head to clear the fog of lust in his brain whilst looking down at the state of himself, erection poking out proudly as if it was trying to follow it’s mistress out the door. “Five minutes,” he laughed to himself, letting his head fall back so he could stare at a spot on the ceiling on the cupboard, willing away the blood in his cock keeping him as hard as marble at the mere thought of seeing Emma later on. “Maybe ten,” he shrugged, fist clenched at his side with no sign of his manhood retreating. “Alright, fifteen,” he conceded with a small smirk.

The day had been tough. Not only were there a million people asking a million questions and still offering a million condolences about Liam - how big was this building anyway? - but it seemed around every corner was someone else Killian needed to avoid. His return to work hadn’t gone unnoticed by the media, who constantly hounded him for a comment about Liam, like vultures over a still warm carcass. Overwhelmed wasn’t even the word for it. Will had tried his hardest to stave off the rabble, but in the end, Killian had been forced to retreat to his driver’s trailer, one he normally used on the road as the team travelled between race circuits. It was calm and quiet and had offered him the solace he needed, and he had managed to completely forget about his earlier rendezvous with the lovely Miss Swan until after lunch, when both he and Will were summoned to the garage.

Nothing short of thorough on her first day, Emma had made short work of Ruby’s paperwork and had dived straight into the more hands on side of her job role. Belle, Will’s primary mechanic, had helped her find her feet and move her tools into the garage. There was a workspace waiting for her, cleaned and newly painted by the faint smell of fresh paint that had yet to disappear, with her name etched into a plaque above where her toolbox would go. Belle had helped her manoeuvre the brand new huge, red metal chest into place and was busy showing her all of the pristine, metallic tools inside that were all just for her.

It felt somewhat paradoxical, a fully trained mechanic, having honed their craft with their own set of tools which they could tell apart with their eyes closed, getting a brand new set, but Honda had rules, and one of them was that they only used certain brands of tools. Of course, Emma knew it was all based on sponsors and maybe even next season would deliver her a new set of tools, but for now, she couldn’t wait to break in the ones right in front of her. She pulled open a drawer, the shallowest one at the top, fingers hooking under the chromed lip with the same glee as a kid at Christmas before revealing a set of immaculate wrenches and specialist tools that made her giddy with excitement.

“Can’t wait to get going, huh?” Belle appeared behind her and made her jump a little.

“Is it wrong that I am thinking about sabotage just so I can fix something?” Emma laughed, her fingers running over the biggest wrench in the set.

“Trust me,” Belle quipped. “With the way these guys race, there will be plenty of fixing to do.”

“Oi!” Will yelled, his voice echoing around them as he entered the garage at exactly the moment Belle had been insinuating his lack of skill. “I for one am offended.”

Belle spun around to follow his voice and shifted her weight onto one hip, her hand resting on the curve of her hip. “Will, hun,” she began with a playful smirk. “Following the guy in front of you isn’t racing. That’s just driving.”

Emma stifled a laugh and pushed the tool chest drawer closed.

Will narrowed his eyes at his mechanic. “I thought we were friends.”

“Whatever gave you that idea?” Belle laughed, giving him a wink.

“You hear this, Killian? Belle is teaching the new girl her bad habits already.”

At the mention of his name, Emma’s ear perked up and she tried not to look so desperate to see him as she turned around and saw him enter the garage behind Will. He looked tired but they had been at it for the majority of the night before and his hair was still a little dishevelled from their cupboard tryst. His hands were in his pockets, probably to remove the temptation of touching her, and the way he licked at his lips before replying to his teammate was sinful. She wasn’t sure, but Emma could have sworn there was a whimper in her throat, but she hoped she had managed to swallow it before Belle heard.

And then he lifted his head, looked her dead in the eye and smirked like a predator who had thoroughly exhausted it’s quarry and was about ready for the take down.

“I’m sure Miss Nolan,” Killian began, emphasizing her name as he toyed with the words on his tongue as he advanced on her. “Has a few naughty habits of her own.”

Will’s laughter managed to disguise the nervous chirp that tumbled from her lips but it was useless in hiding the fact her cheeks were abloom with a red blush. Killian spotted it immediately and raised an eyebrow in her direction, the corner of his

mouth tugging into that boyish smirk only she would know meant he was implying something else. She mirrored his smirk slyly, averting her gaze just as quickly as she had caught his eye,lest Will or Belle notice their eye fucking.

“Well then, mate, I’m glad she’s working on your equipment, and not mine,” Will scoffed.

Emma’s eyes widened at his words, and even though she was looking back at her tool chest, trying desperately to distract herself from the choking sensation in her throat, she could feel the burn of Killian’s stare on the back of her head. Covering her mouth with a slightly shaky hand that was very uncharacteristic of a mechanic of her calibre, Emma coughed to clear the dryness that had set itself firmly in the back of her mouth, and when she took the risk of sliding her gaze sideways, Killian was there, waiting, with raw darkness and sex in his eyes that made the apex of her thighs tingle.

“Will you boys stop it? Emma has only just got here and you’re already scarring her.” Belle clipped the back of Will’s head with a playful slap, before pointing an accusatory finger in Killian’s direction. Before he had time to react, she was continuing, a more menacing tone to her voice. “Leave. Her. Alone.”

“Why is your rage directed at me?” Killian asked innocently. “Will’s the sex pest!”

“Oi, fuck off, mate!” Will detested, rubbing the back of his head.

“Language!” Belle screeched, yet again slapping Will but this time across his shoulder.

“Language?!” Will countered, his voice higher than it should have been for a man his age. “Emma’s raced! She knows what swear words are.”

There was a spot of silence, during which Emma tried to busy herself with absolutely nothing in front of her, but it wasn’t long before she could feel a second pair of eyes boring into the back of her head.

“You raced?” Belle asked quickly. “When? Where? Why don’t you race anymore?”

Emma didn’t know Belle that well but she had already worked out that the brunette was the sort of person who had an issue controlling the lilt of her voice when she was engaged by intrigue. She didn’t mind. It was natural to be curious, but she had hoped her colleagues would have remained in the dark a little longer. It wasn’t something she wanted to relive, not yet, but exactly how they had found out was soon revealed when Killian’s head shake of denial turned Will’s cheeks right red as she looked from one to the other.

“I googled you,” Will admitted sheepishly after reading her silent question.

“Will!” Belle’s voice pierced the air again but he was quick to sidestep her intended blow this time.

“You asked!” Will frowned defensively. “How is you asking different to me searching for Emma Nolan online?”

“How did you find me?” Emma piped up suddenly, stepping away from her tool chest and facing Will, her arms folded tightly across her chest. “You shouldn’t have found me.” Her defences had kicked in, whether she wanted them to her not, and Killian noticed them immediately and rushed to intervene.

“Why don’t we save this topic for another time, aye?” Killian slipped in between Emma and Will, his back to his teammate, before his hands were on her shoulders and, as if reading his mind, Belle was directing a confused Will away from Emma’s fury. Killian could feel the tension in her shoulders, despite his gentle coercion, and he almost forgot himself when one of his hands gravitated towards brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. “Belle, Will, why don’t we give Emma a moment alone?”

Belle was quick to nod her head and pushed Will towards the door, muttering angrily about his stupidity. Killian was about to follow his colleagues but just as they exited the garage, Will still grumbling and his voice echoing down the hall, he was stopped when Emma grabbed onto his little finger. He turned quickly, his eyes falling to the way her hands were clutching to his pinky, her slight tremor travelling all the way up his arm.

“Love, what is it?” Killian asked quickly, concern lacing his voice. Casting a quick glance over his shoulder to watch the door to the garage fully close, Killian felt a surge of adrenaline invade his body, his worry for Emma the primary cause. “Emma?” Killian pried again. He brushed the back of his hand over her cheek, slightly bent knuckles stroking her in an attempt to rouse her from her state.

“Swan,” Emma mumbled, swallowing hard.

Killian frowned and shook his head. “I’m sorry, love, I’m not following.”

“Swan,” Emma repeated, finally lifted her head so their eyes met once more. “I raced as Emma Swan, not Nolan. You’re the only person, other than me, who knew this, and yet Will Scarlet managed to google me? How?”

The way she was looking at him for answers, with pleading in her watery eyes, made his heart pained. He couldn’t give her an answer because he simply didn’t know and despite his best efforts, the uncertainty in his own eyes must have been blatantly obvious to her because Emma’s lip quivered, and the dam finally broke, hot, rolling tears spilling from her eyelids. No time passed between the first tear falling and Killian pulling her against the firm planes of his chest, wrapping his arms around her as more than just comfort. It was a protection, a means by which he promised to find out.

“I’ll talk to Will,” Killian offered. “Find out where exactly he found out, alright?” His hands rubbed her back, splayed out over the material of her shirt and letting her cry, her tears lost in the material of his own uniform. He felt her nod against him and moved his head so that he could kiss the top of hers, letting his lips linger against the warmth of her hair while he inhaled the smell of her, traces of his shower gel mixed with her own floral scent invading his nostrils.

“Thank you,” Emma sniffed, lifting her head and relaxing out of his embrace. She shook her head and brushed her hair from her face and Killian’s hands were cupping her face and brushing away the lines tears had left on her cheeks with a softness she hadn’t realised he possessed. Before she had time to realise his intentions, his lips were on hers, preceded by a small smile of assurance, and Emma felt the weight of her worry disappear.

When he broke the kiss, Emma took a second to open her eyes, and only did so prompted by Killian gently rubbing his hand up and down her arm. He smiled at her warmly, a genuine look of content on his face now that he knew she was okay, and took his hand in hers before lifting it to his lips and planting a soft kiss to her knuckles.

“Are you sure you’re alright, darling?” He asked again.

“I’m sure,” Emma nodded, hastily wiping at her cheeks once more. She blew out a breath, letting all of the tension leave her, and clutched at Killian’s hand dangling between them at the same time. “I’ll be better tonight,” she teased. “I have plans.”

Killian smirked, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. “Oh, you do? Not with anyone too horrid, I hope.”

“Oh, he’s ghastly,” Emma mocked, faking his accent with a little too much American twang. “But very good in bed. You’d hate him.”

“Well, as your colleague, might I take this opportunity to express my concerns?” Killian raised an eyebrow when she tilted her head and leaned her whole weight against him, her fingers toying with the collar of his shirt.

“Feel free,” Emma shrugged.

“I’m concerned you might be in too deep with this guy.” He grinned, leaning down to whisper in her ear. “Or maybe it is he who is in too deep?” He growled, the words vibrating over her ear.

“If he plays his cards right,” Emma smirked coyly, biting her bottom lip. “That might be exactly where he finds himself.”

Content that Emma was alright, Killian had headed out of the garage and was intent on finding Will. He’d got held up slightly when Robin had wanted to talk to him about the next season - too long, if he was completely honest - and it was way into lunchtime by the time he had caught up with his teammate. Will always ate his lunch on the track, surrounded by bikes and the smell of lubricant and oil tainting his food, his greasy hands unwashed as he tucked into whatever had been on offer in the cafeteria that day. Today, it seemed, had been a cold meal day with a selection of finger foods and sandwiches on offer, much to Killian’s disgust.

“You know we have gloves, right?” Killian asked gingerly, stepping into Will’s garage with a look of disgust on his face.

Will looked up from his bike, mouth full of half the egg sandwich he held in his blackened hand and a smear of grease across his cheek. He chewed and swallowed, giving Killian a shrug.

“I like to feel the parts I work on,” he shrugged, stuffing another mouthful of the sandwich into his gaping maw before swigging from a bottle of coke.

Killian grimaced. “I meant for the sandwich,” he clarified.

Will gave him a grin. “Tastes better with a little Castrol dressing.”

“You truly are the most disgusting human being I have ever had the pleasure of knowing,” Killian told him, not even a little bit surprised by his own words as they left his mouth.

“Why, thank you, squire!” Will gave Killian a little salute, his confusion between medieval terminology and military actions revealing his youth. “What’s up? What brings you out to the second riders area?”

Will patted the chair next to him, offering it to Killian, who plopped down into it without any more prompting.

“I needed to ask you a question,” Killian began, declining Will’s offer of some grease covered potato chips. “Where did you find the name, Emma Swan?”

Will stopped mid chew, holding the shards of chips in his mouth with his tongue. “I googled Emma Nolan and Emma Swan came up,” he mumbled awkwardly.

“Pfft, give over, mate!” Killian scoffed.

“No, really!” Will detested. He shook the bag until all the crumbs fell into one corner, then tipped his head back and emptied the bag into his mouth. A few more crunches later, he was licking his lips and sloppily licking his fingers before unlocking his phone and turning the device towards Killian. “See.”

Killian snatched the phone out of his hand, ignoring the way it was slightly slippery from the potato chip oil coating its side, and ignored Will’s protest as he focused on the screen. His teammate hadn’t been lying. There, in black and white digital print, for the world to see, was a photo of Emma Nolan under a huge bold title that gave away her race name, Emma Swan, to the entire world. Killian felt his blood begin to boil when he read the subtitle that alluded to the fact Emma had tried to hide her identity to get her job, and as he skimmed his thumb up the screen to scroll down, all became somewhat clear.

“Cassidy?” Killian muttered and hadn’t realised out loud until Will snatched his phone back and gave him a nod.

“He used to date her, apparently.” Will shrugged and stuffed his phone back in his pocket.

Killian frowned, a little shaken by Will’s revelation. “When?”

“Did you know she got caught doping?” Will raised his eyebrows whilst trying to dislodge a piece of potato chip from behind his tooth.

“What?! No, she never!” Killian argued, fuming.

“Yeah, see, it’s right here,” Will began, pulling his phone back into Killian’s view and tapping the screen a few times, but he didn’t have time to read any of the articles about Emma Swan/Nolan before Killian was slapping the device out of his hands. “Hey!” Will yelled, watching the love of his life clatter to the floor, screen down. His heart sank. “If that’s broken, mate,” he growled, straightening himself up and puffing out his chest.

“Yeah? What?” Killian snarled, squaring up to his teammate until they almost bumped noses.

“Fuck off!” Will pushed against Killian’s chest, hard, and the other rider stumbled back a little.

“Or what?” Killian challenged, moving back into Will’s space, his heart hammering in his chest.

Will gave him another push, and stopped Killian advancing by holding out an open hand. “Look, I know you’re not Cassidy’s biggest fan, but I’m not to blame for that shitbag said, am I?” Will could see the darkness of rage clouding Killian’s eyes, changing the normally mellow blue colour to a stormy grey, and his teammate was clearly clenching his jaw. “I’m just the messenger, so don’t shoot, alright?”

Killian took a long deep breath and followed it by another, letting his eyes flutter closed. The onslaught of new information was too much, overloading his system and shorting out the already very short fuse he had when anyone mentioned the name Neal Cassidy. Coupled with the fact he had just learned that Emma, the most wholesome woman he had ever known after his mother, had once been in a relationship with Cassidy too? Fury was the only thing he could feel, but given the chance to calm a little, he suddenly realised why Emma’s race days were not a first date sort of conversation.

Will picked up his phone off the garage floor, the sound of shattered glass scraping the concrete and a following tut of disgust leaving his mouth with an added groan, made Killian feel remorseful immediately. Will was his friend, and he had been right; he was just relaying information he had found on the internet. No reason for Killian to lose his cool so quickly, especially over a colleague who, for everyone else’s benefit, was just the new mechanic.

“Bugger it,” Will sighed, tossing his now dead phone onto the tool chest he had been using. “That’s just bloody brilliant.”

“I’ll buy you another,” Killian offered, rubbing his temples.

“Yeah you will,” Will snapped. “What’s gotten into you today? You storm out of the big reveal, and now you’re going all Hulk on my phone?”

“I’m sorry,” Killian said more evenly. “I said I’ll buy you another.”

“I’m worried about you,” Will said quickly, tapping the palm of his greasy hand with the round end of a spanner. “I know losing Liam was the hardest thing you ever had to experience, but I wish you would just talk to us.”

“Us?” Killian narrowed his eyes.

“Me, Elsa, Belle, Robin. Us. Your Team, your family!” Will sounded exasperated, all of his worry for his friend seemingly leaving him all at once. “Mate, I’d even be happy if you started pouring your heart out to the new mechanic because at least then you’d be talking about it!”

The corner of Killian’s lips pulled up into a small smile at Will’s words and he cast his gaze down to his feet, ashamed of the way he had been acting lately. He’d been so wrapped up in mourning his brother, blaming himself, that he hadn’t stopped to realise how it was affecting the people around him. These people had known Liam too. They were all a part of his life in one context or another, and Killian had failed to notice their own grief whilst he had been so consumed with his own.

“Will, come here,” Killian ordered softly, taking a step towards his teammate.

“Why?” Will asked suspiciously, frowning at the way Killian had opened his arm as he advanced.

“Just come here,” Killian insisted, waving a hand towards himself to encourage Will.

“No, mate, no…”

Without another word, Killian was pulling him into a crushing hug, and Will only resisted for a few seconds before he let the spanner he was holding clatter to the floor with a metallic echo. He threw his arms around his friend, face buried into the crook of Killian’s neck as a soft, watery sob hitched in his throat. Killian tightened his grip, unable to form the words he was looking for to comfort his teammate.

“I miss him too,” Will whispered, his voice changed by the lump in his throat.

Killian still couldn’t find the words, instead, his hand cradling the back of Will’s head and letting him cry against the collar of his shirt. Will bunched the material of Killian’s shirt in his fists and let out a manly wail, letting out all of his sorrow and anger at the same time, encouraged by Killian gently patting his back. When he felt Will relax, Killian loosened his grip and both men stood back upright, face to face. Will hastily wiped at the tear stains on his cheeks, smearing a big black line of grease across his cheek before wiping his nose on the sleeve of his overalls, which made Killian chuckle.

“You really are disgusting,” he said fondly and Will just grinned cheekily.

#sparking the pavement #stp #cs fanfic #cs fic #csff #captain swan #cs #smut fic #motogp #cs au #ch7/8

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alexandralyman · 4 years

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project neverland

Inspired by Colin’s upcoming role on The Right Stuff, I wrote a little 1960s CS test pilot/early NASA AU one shot. I didn’t aim for historical accuracy with this one, it’s more about the feel of the era instead of a literal depiction of the Mercury 7 and their missions.

Summary: Test pilot Captain Killian Jones always liked to go too fast. When he gets asked to join the elite group Colonel David Nolan of NASA has formed to be the first men to fly into space it's all he ever wanted...until he meets his CO's daughter, the beautiful and headstrong Emma Nolan.

Read on ff.net here and on AO3 here

Killian Jones always liked to go too fast.

In fast cars.

In fast planes.

(with fast women)

The NASA shrinks said it was because he had to grow up too quickly, too young when his father finally took off for good and his absence sent Killian hurtling recklessly into adulthood too soon with only his older brother left to try to keep him tethered to Earth. They almost didn't clear him to join Project Neverland, the internal code name given to the mission when someone made a late night crack after one too many pots of coffee about throwing out all the charts and just taking the second star to the right to reach the moon, but he was a hell of a pilot and after rising star Captain Arthur Pendragon, given the call sign "King" because everyone expected him to lead the mission, literally crashed and burned out of training in the Excalibur prototype and actually broke the damn thing clear in half, Colonel David Nolan publicly decided to give Captain Killian "Hook" Jones a second chance to join the team and be the hero.

Alongside a more private warning for Killian to clean up his act if he really wanted to reach the stars.

Killian knew the man wasn't kidding, so he took it to heart and stopped drinking (hard liquor, at least), stopped sleeping around (he'd been given the call sign "Hook" for his ability to hook up with any woman he wanted, including a general's wife, the bold and brash Milah Gold), he cut his hair short and shaved twice a day to keep within NASA's strict grooming requirements for its elite group of test pilots, he wore a suit and tie and smiled politely for the photographers whenever he was told to, doing the whole dog and pony show for the press without a single word of complaint. He wanted to fly to the stars, wanted it more than anything, he wanted to go faster, higher, than any man had gone before and bring home honour and glory for the name Jones.

Dr. Hopper scribbled furiously in his little notebook during their mandatory sessions and went on and on about his clear "father issues" and his "tendency to overcompensate" while Killian tuned him out, thinking instead about the feel of the wind in his hair when he drove with the top down on his 'Vette, rock 'n' roll blaring on the radio and putting the pedal to the metal up and down the Florida coast, or the exhilaration of taking off in one of the sleek new jets, feeling the lift and drag of the wind under the wings as delicate and powerful as a lover's touch along his skin when he aimed straight for the clouds above and pierced the sky fast enough to break the sound barrier. He agreed with whatever the doc said every week just to get out his office, lighting up a cigarette as soon as the door closed and taking a deep inhale to deal with his nerves instead.

Killian was keeping to the straight and narrow as best he could, but he couldn't stop himself from driving way over the limit in the early morning when the roads around the base were clear and empty as far as the eye could see, or taking his boat out just before sunset after a long day of NASA eggheads telling him what he could and couldn't do and blowing off steam by opening up the throttle as far as it would go to ride the waves so fast that the hull barely touched the water. Giving up booze and unhappily married women were one thing, he'd already almost ruined his career more than once over both and he'd learned his lesson the hard way, but the bone-deep need within him to push just a little bit harder, go a little bit faster, always chasing something that lingered just beyond his reach, well, what NASA didn't know couldn't hurt them.

Captain Killian Jones did everything too fast, but when Miss Emma Nolan grabbed the collar of his leather aviator jacket and kissed the smirk right off his face he wanted nothing more than to take it slow for once, since the only thing more off-limits than a superior officer's wife was a superior officer's daughter and Colonel Nolan wasn't just Emma's father, he was Killian's CO, with the power to ground him for good if he knew that his princess had been sneaking out to meet Killian at the underground drag races and after-hours nightclubs in Cocoa Beach. She wore dangerously short miniskirts and pale, frosted lipstick, all the men assigned to Project Neverland were half in love with her and she was the cause of every grey hair on her mother's elegantly coiffed head. Colonel Nolan's illustrious career had taken the family all over, although not always together. Emma had been sent to live with relatives in Boston while her parents were overseas on a remote posting that didn't allow children, reuniting several years later and then taking assignments at several different bases across America until he was handpicked for the most coveted position of them all and the Nolans moved again to Florida.

Emma recited the long list of former addresses without looking at him, staring out at the horizon instead while she sat with her legs folded Indian-style on the beach blanket he kept in the trunk of his car.

"It must have been hard, moving around so much," he offered. Military life was tough on families and tougher on marriages, which was one of the reasons why it had been all too easy to fall into bed with Milah Gold, despite both the ring on her finger and her husband's rank and a bigger reason why he had never followed that track.

"Yeah," she agreed, letting the clean white sand run through her fingers. "If I wanted friends I had to make them quickly, and then as soon as you really got to know someone new orders would come in and either we'd be leaving in a week, or they were shipping out, and sometimes you didn't even get that much notice. Sometimes...sometimes someone you thought you were really close to would leave one night and just never come back."

She said in a way that Killian knew she was referring to someone in particular, someone who'd done just that, walked out of her life one night and broken her heart in the process. But before he could say anything she stood up and took off, sprinting away from the memory on those long legs that looked so fantastic in white go-go boots and that he privately thought would look even better wrapped around his hips instead. She headed straight for the ocean and came to a halt right at the water's edge, waves just licking her toes and lapping at her ankles before rolling back out into the sea. Her hesitance confused Killian at first, Emma was like him, always leaping before she looked, but then she peeled off her lime green two-piece and dropped both halves into the sand, plunging straight into the crashing surf as naked and carefree as any flower child.

Killian Jones was one of the seven best pilots in the entire country, his reflexes were literally off the charts...and yet it took him an embarrassingly long time to pick up his jaw from where it had dropped somewhere around his knees and reach for the knot in his own swim trunks. Turned out there was something that could get his heart beating faster than the sight of the sleek vessel he was slated to fly into space sitting in the hanger at Cape Canaveral, and for the first time in a long time, he didn't look up into the sky when the sun set and the stars appeared.

But a late night skinny dip at a secluded little cove aside, Killian did his damndest to be a gentleman to Emma Nolan, and it wasn't because it was rumoured that the sword her father had mounted to the wall in his office wasn't just ceremonial. It would be easy to fall into bed with Emma, easy for this thing between them to be nothing more than another meaningless fling, but maybe he had been listening more than he realized while Dr. Hopper droned on about how lost boys either grew up and became men, or just grew older and which did he want to be? So he checked his speed and drove much more carefully when she was in his car and didn't let his hands wander when they danced no matter how dark it was in the hole-in-the-wall bars far from the country clubs frequented by his fellow officers and their wives. He made sure to have her home at a reasonable hour afterwards, even though he had to park around the corner and she was going to climb the tree next to her bedroom window and sneak back in anyway.

They got caught one afternoon, not by Colonel Nolan (although there had been a couple of close calls in that regard) but by one of those Florida downpours that came without warning, a sudden and shocking deluge that plastered the clothes to their bodies and ruined Emma's bouffant in a heartbeat before Killian could get his jacket off to serve as a makeshift umbrella. She clung to him while he held it over their heads, cursing a blue streak that would make a sailor blush and her mother faint while he laughed and did his best to shield her with his body. Raindrops slid down her neck and lingered in the little dip of her collarbones when she tilted her head up to the sky, mapping a course on her skin that he longed to follow with his lips until he'd charted every square inch. For someone who was about to take off at speeds men could only dream of a few short years ago and touch the stars, everything he'd ever wanted and more, Killian wished for nothing more now than to make these quiet moments last, for the song to never end when they danced and for the rain to keep falling, to keep them grounded in the here and now.

"You're leaving soon," she said in barely more than a whisper, a statement instead of a question. Suddenly everything was moving too fast, the mission date was measured in days instead of years now and their time together was growing short. The rain stopped, the afternoon showers were heavy but they never lasted long and it ended as abruptly as if someone had turned off a spigot, leaving wet pavement steaming in the sun and nothing to hinder Emma's return to her own car, the cheerful little yellow thing her parents had bought her.

"Yes...but not a day will go by where I won't think of you."

Emma looked at him and he wondered if the dampness on her face was from the rain or from something else. Her lips quirked in a half-smile that made his chest ache.

"Good."

Killian watched while she walked away and got into her car, putting it in gear and driving off. Slowly, at first, until it started to pick up speed. He knew, intellectually, that it couldn't go nearly as fast as his own V8, but it didn't feel that way when she was driving away from him.

He stood completely still until she was gone.

...

The little beach house that he'd rented when he first arrived to join the program went unused, Killian had to cram in his flight hours to stay mission ready after falling behind thanks to a certain blonde distraction, and he was going out daily in the jet that had been nicknamed the Jolly Roger and staying on base at night with other members of the crew. It seemed that whatever he'd had with Emma was over completely, she used to come by on a regular basis to visit her father and once she'd left the colonel's office there were all sorts of storage closets and empty stairwells to hold a more clandestine meeting afterwards. They'd neck frantically against the wall until Killian had to tear himself away to return to the daily physicals and calisthenics and whatever else the brass had scheduled for him, with the waxy taste of Emma's lipstick lingering in his mouth for hours afterwards and his uniform rumpled. But now it was Mrs. Nolan who came to base instead, with her lacquered helmet of dark hair and impeccable manners she was the Jackie Kennedy of NASA, always with a smile and a gracious word for the men under her husband's command.

It would be much more colourful if she knew exactly what her free-spirited daughter had gotten up to with one of them, even though he hadn't crossed that line. They'd come close, too close, moving too fast, too soon, the way Killian did everything else in his life.

Perhaps breaking up before one of them inevitably got broken was for the best.

Life magazine devoted an entire issue to Project Neverland and the men carrying the hopes and dreams of the nation on their shoulders, with each member of the flight crew getting their own double page spread. Captain Graham "Huntsman" Humbert was unsmiling and stoic in his photograph, described as, "the serious, single-minded leader of the elite group and devoted husband to his wife Ruby, as stunning and statuesque as any high-fashion model" while Captain Will "Knave" Scarlet was, "the practical joker, unofficial jester and class clown and a newlywed to boot, to former school librarian Belle, as pretty as her name suggests."

Killian posed alone in his flight suit, with no sweet-faced wife in hat and gloves like the others to stand by his side he was, "the swinging bachelor with the rock 'n' roll attitude and the looks to match, with eyes even bluer than Paul Newman's fixed firmly on the prize."

They were all inundated with fan mail after that, everything from children's crayon masterpieces of themselves meeting little green aliens on the moon to letters from senior citizens who remembered Kitty Hawk and man's first flight, but Killian in particular received a lot of perfumed envelopes decorated with lipstick prints and marked SWAK. Infatuated schoolgirls wrote him mash notes that Scarlet stole and read aloud to the rest of the crew in a high-pitched squeal, suburban housewives offered home-cooked meals with themselves served for dessert, and a Playboy Playmate even sent a few photos too racy to publish with her phone number scrawled on the back.

"Have you rung up Miss November yet, Hook?" Scarlet asked with a wink and a nudge, his caterpillar eyebrows practically doing the Twist on his forehead at the prospect. "Maybe we should start calling you Hef instead."

"Knock it off, Knave," Killian replied around the cigarette in his mouth, trying to snatch the picture back. Scarlet was shorter than he was, but he kept dancing just out of his reach with that smug grin while he continued to make jokes about Killian trading his flight suit for a smoking jacket. Finally, Humbert intervened, smacking Scarlet in the back of the head with one hand and grabbing Miss November away from him with the other.

"Ow! Watch the goods, it's property of Uncle Sam now, you know."

Humbert rolled his eyes. "We all are, dummy, which is why Captain Jones here isn't going to risk catching the clap and getting grounded. Are you, Hook?"

Killian met his expectant look. "Sir, no sir," he said, giving a mock salute and taking the photo delicately between his fingers. He left them to their bickering and headed outside, where he lit another cigarette and then held Miss November over the little flame, bidding her a silent farewell as she turned to ash on the wind before sliding the Zippo back into his pocket. Maybe he would have given her a call, once upon a time, risked a venereal disease and a shot of penicillin in the ass just for the story alone. But Humbert was right, there was too much at stake now. They all had to stay squeaky clean, in more ways than one. He wasn't even supposed to smoke in public anymore, which was even more of a pain when he had to deal with the press. Thankfully access to the base was highly restricted, and the wide swath of tarmac was completely deserted save for him and the line of sleek jets parked in neat rows, under a clouded sky.

The clouds drifted and the moon appeared, just as she had to the ancient sailors who set off in search of riches across Homer's wine-dark sea of old. They'd plotted a course into the unknown with only the stars to guide them and he was about to do the same, on a ship of a different kind but a ship nonetheless, with titanium wings instead of canvas sails to carry them across an ink-black sky, navigate by the stars and then follow them back home.

It wasn't his empty cottage that Killian pictured when he thought of home now, closing his eyes and letting the cigarette burn out untouched, breathing in the clean night air instead and hearing the faint crash of the waves against the distant shore.

...

A decision was made to hold a party at the base a few days before they had to enter pre-mission quarantine, a full on soiree with politicians flown in from Washington to see for themselves where their constituents tax dollars had gone, four star generals, celebrities and the cream of Florida society, and as the guests of honour, the flight crew in full dress uniforms with their brand new commendations pinned over their hearts. Colonel Nolan would lead them in to the fanfare of a naval brass band, each man with his wife displayed proudly on his arm. As the only unmarried one, Killian would escort one of the single women who'd been invited so he wouldn't have to walk alone.

Emma Nolan.

She arrived with her parents, stepping out of the car in a red cocktail dress that matched her red lipstick and drew him straight to her like a beacon.

Ot a warning light.

Maybe it was both.

"Miss Nolan."

"Captain Jones."

He proffered his arm and she accepted, her gloved hand resting lightly on his sleeve. His eyesight was as keen as the rest of his senses and yet everyone else seemed to fade into nothing more than a blur in the background, as far removed as the Earth would be once they broke through the atmosphere and went where none had gone before. The only one he could see clearly as the flashbulbs popped and the band started to play was Emma.

They weren't seated together at the dinner, much to Killian's chagrin while he made polite small talk with the senator's wife on his left and tried not to let his gaze drift too much in her direction. When the floor was cleared for dancing he took a turn with Ruby and one with Belle (neatly evading the rather overzealous senator's wife, a tall redhead from Kansas) and even danced with Mrs. Nolan herself, feeling his back straighten even more under her scrutiny. Her husband might be the one wearing the silver stripes, but she had the bearing of a queen in her golden dress.

"You look lovely this evening, ma'am," Killian said, his posture still stiff and formal despite the modern bossa nova the band was currently playing.

"Thank you, Captain. At ease."

He did relax a fraction at that while her stern expression melted into a smile. Over her shoulder he caught a flash of red and saw that Emma was dancing with her father, on the next pass Mrs. Nolan saw them as well and her face softened even more.

"Part of me is glad he's not twenty years younger or he'd be the one leading this mission instead of overseeing it. As exciting as this all is, don't forget about those of us back down on the ground waiting for you to come back."

Humbert drifted by with Ruby, her arm wrapped tight around his neck and her cheek resting against his chest. The wedding ring on his hand shone under the lights, his fingers splayed across her slim back and looking like there was nowhere on Earth or beyond that he'd rather be.

"I'll bring them all back safe and sound, ma'am, I promise."

Mrs. Nolan's eyes were a lot like her daughter's, a deep gemstone green that reminded him of distant galaxies they'd only caught the faintest glimpse of from Earth. They fixed him in place for a long moment, making his step falter and lose the beat while everyone else continued to dance.

"Not just them, Killian. You come back safe and sound. That's an order."

She had no real authority over him, but as the song ended and she patted him affectionately on the cheek, Killian was tempted to salute her as neatly as he would a general. He settled for giving a respectful dip of his chin instead, wondering as she walked back to her family if maybe, perhaps, his relationship with Emma hadn't been nearly as secret as he thought it was.

"Yes ma'am," he whispered, even though she was too far away to hear.

A few (or several) champagne toasts later everyone was invited into the hanger to view the spacecraft itself up close. Killian hung back, he'd already seen it, after all, more times than he could count, and as tipsy politicians eagerly followed the NASA eggheads through the doors to gape and gawk at what had built in this little corner of the world for the glory of all mankind, he noticed a familiar woman in a red dress with a bottle of champagne dangling from her fingers, heading the other way.

He went after her instead.

"You know, if you mean to christen the vessel with that, love, it's actually that way."

"Hmm," Emma mused, her red lips pursing as she appeared to contemplate the thought. "It's for good luck, right?"

Killian took it from her and swigged right from the bottle, feeling the bubbles pop on his tongue. "For luck," he said, and he was lucky that it didn't break or tip over when he set it down, blindly thanks to the woman in his arms, her mouth hot under his and her fingers fumbling with the buttons on his jacket. She got it open just as he hefted her up in his arms, fingers splaying over his heart while her legs went around his waist and a shoe hit the floor with a thump. They were in a darkened conference room, the walls strewn with maps and schematics of the most modern undertaking ever dreamed while the most ancient and primal of needs clawed at his belly, and he carried her to the couch in the corner that had seen many a hastily-snatched catnap during the late nights of the Project, but never an assignation quite like this one. For all the optimism and hope that they all professed publicly, privately everyone knew that the mission was dangerous, and there was a more than infinitesimal chance that none of them would make it back. Humbert knew it, Scarlet, despite the juvenile sense of humour, knew it, Colonel Nolan knew it and Killian did as well. The fierce claim in Emma's kiss as he fumbled with his belt told him that she was more than aware of that grim possibility, the squeeze of her thighs around his hips was an anchor, one he would remember later once gravity faded and he was floating free. As dangerous as this was it was more than worth the risk, and when he crossed that final barrier it was like both braving the unknown and coming home in one fell swoop, his face pressed to her neck to muffle his groan and her nails digging into his shoulders. The little half-moons she left in his skin had faded by morning, when all of NASA was hung over except for Captain Killian Jones and Miss Emma Nolan had gone home with a pilfered bottle of champagne and without her girdle.

She still cut quite the figure in her dress, even if it was wrinkled just a tad.

They were each allowed to bring one small personal item with them on the mission, something Dr. Hopper had said was to remind them of whatever it was they held most dear. A photo of a loved one, perhaps, or a symbol of their faith, the choice was up to them. The shrink had nodded approvingly when Killian had shown him what he'd finally decided to bring in their last session, leaving his little notebook closed for once. It didn't weigh very much, it couldn't, since it cost a literal fortune for every pound of weight being sent into orbit, and tucked easily into the little zippered pocket on his flight suit set aside for the purpose.

It was therefore the most expensive engagement ring in all of history.

Maybe he was moving too fast, but when he caught sight of Emma on the other side of the glass, come with her mother and the wives to say their final goodbyes on the morning he was going to leave the Earth and take the second star to the right, he knew he'd finally found what he'd been chasing for so long.

#cs ff #cs fic #my fic #cs au fic #project neverland

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shireness-says · 4 years

Text

Swan’s Seven (4/?)

Summary: After two years behind bars, Emma’s out, and she’s got a plan in mind. Now to put together the perfect team… Let’s stage an art heist. (A CS Ocean’s 8 AU) ~3.9K. Rated T for language. Also on AO3. Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

~~~~~

A/N: Hello, all. It’s been a while on this one. 11 months, nearly to the day. Word to the wise: don’t sign up for six writing events all at once. The good news is there’s not a lot to refresh on, if you need the refresher! The gist: we’re robbing an art galley, and CS are trying to come back from starting out on the wrong foot.

Thanks, as always, to @snidgetsafan for beta-ing, and to YOU ALL for being so patient with me.

Tags: @optomisticgirl, @spartanguard, @profdanglaisstuff, @captainsjedi, @thisonesatellite, @thejollyroger-writer, @let-it-raines, @teamhook, @kmomof4, @snowbellewells, @searchingwardrobes, @winterbaby89, @scientificapricot, @superchocovian, @welllpthisishappening, @ohmightydevviepuu. Shoot me a message if you want to be added/taken off the list.

And a last note: last September, @spartanguard made some AMAZING fan art for me! Check it out and give her love, if you haven’t already!

Enjoy - and let me know what you think!

~~~~~

Emma makes her living off of first impressions and gut feelings. She’s a career con; those feelings can keep you alive and out of jail. Emma prides herself on rarely being wrong, with few (if spectacular - looking at you, Neal) exceptions.

Perhaps that’s why it rankles so much that she finds herself liking Killian Jones - it’s an admittance that her first impression, that he was nothing but a cocky bastard there to undermine her, was wrong. But underneath that seems to be a kind man, a polite and chivalrous one, a man who held the door for Elsa this morning and is currently with Belle unwrapping some kind of machine for replicating bronzes, as promised, the both of them displaying near-childlike glee at the new toy. It’s a side of him that Emma hadn’t expected to see, given those first few disastrous interactions.

(The side of him, so to speak, that Emma is treated to watching Killian bend over the box isn’t half bad either.)

A low whistle sounds from over Emma’s shoulder where she leans against the bar, almost as if she conjured it into existence. That’s not the case, of course; Ruby may be practicing her drink mixing before she starts at Robin’s tomorrow, plying them all with dangerously strong cocktails in the process, but as far as Emma’s aware, the saucy brunette isn’t any sort of mindreader.

“Damn if that’s not a pretty sight,” Ruby comments with a smirk as she measures out a hefty shot of vodka. “I love a man who can fill out a pair of jeans right.”

“I thought you were more interested in a woman who can fill out a pair of jeans right.” It’s not a criticism - just, apparently, a significant misread on Emma’s part. Another one.

Or not. “Baby, I’m not picky,” Ruby winks. “I like everyone. Just say the word if you’re ever interested.”

“Not really looking - especially not if it mixes business with pleasure - but I’ll keep it in mind. Thanks, Ruby.”

Ruby hums. “That mean you won’t ever make a move on Jones?”

“Why would I ever want to make a move on Jones?” Emma snorts.

Ruby just shrugs in response. “I don’t know. You two have got that charged tension going on. It’s a lot more fun to fuck it out than fight it out. You can’t deny he’s easy on the eyes, either - I’ve seen you looking.”

It’s a little too late to claim she was watching where Regina and Elsa hover over a laptop, monitoring the feed from Tink’s glasses from her first day at her new internship. That just leaves sarcasm to fall back on - always a solid choice. “Yeah, well, I’ve been in a women’s prison for two years. Can’t blame a red-blooded American woman for looking.”

“I’ll let you pretend that’s all it is. For now.” As if to accentuate, Ruby slides a bright aqua cocktail across the counter. “Enjoy your Blue Motherfucker.”

(Emma didn’t order the cocktail by any stretch of the imagination, but damn, does that burn feel good going down.)

Liquid courage doesn’t have anything to do with the way she saunters over to meet Killian where he hunches over an instruction manual. At the sound of her boots on the industrial concrete, his head snaps to attention, turning to meet her face to face.

“What can I do for you, Swan?” he asks with that smirk she’s learning is just an affectation. She thinks it might be armor, the same way she wears her red leather jacket; warn everyone away and you won’t get hurt.

“What are you up to tomorrow?”

“Depends. What are you about to propose?”

“How about you and I have a little date at an art gallery?”

———

“Not that I don’t appreciate your efforts, darling,” Killian murmurs in her ear, “but next time - I plan the date.”

“You seem awfully sure that there will be another date,” Emma snarks back. “Think highly of yourself, don’t you? And I’m not your darling.”

“What can I say, love - I can’t help that I’m devilishly handsome and charming. I’ve found it a winning combination.”

“Not your love, either.”

It’s not actually a date - just something intended to look like one. To anyone else at the gallery, they look like a pair of lovers, whispering sweet nothings to each other as they observe the masterpieces. All the while, Elsa observes exactly where the boundaries of each video camera lie from her computer back at the Poison Apple as Emma and Killian slink past corners with a faux-smitten giggle or tug on the lapel of a leather jacket.

“You are aware that we can hear you, right?” Regina drawls in the hidden earpiece they both wear.

“As if I could ever forget you, Madame Mills,” Killian replies smoothly. “I must say, I wouldn’t normally invite someone else along on an afternoon romantic excursion, but if the lovely Swan enjoys someone else listening in to… shall we say, private moments, then I am happy to —”

“So help me God, if you finish that sentence, I will remove your balls with my pocket knife,” Emma interrupts.

“Ah, so you like them quiet too.” At her sharp look - one she’s sure could cut through steel if she just tried hard enough - Killian bows his head in concession. “I’ll stop, if only for the sake of my anatomy.”

“Good decision.”

“And I’ll repeat, we can hear you,” Regina snaps into their earpieces.

(Emma will never admit that in the midst of the banter, she forgot.)

“Alright, Your Majesty, don’t get your knickers in a twist.” Killian’s voice isn’t exactly soothing, but it’s something approaching conciliatory. Emma just hopes the cameras aren’t so good as to see the way he winks, completely contradicting his words.

“How’s it going, Elsa?” Emma asks under her breath, hoping to change the subject. Turning things back towards the reason she and Killian are here in the first place.

“Just fine, Emma,” Elsa’s calm voice trails through the ear piece. “The cameras up front will be… somewhat trickier to manipulate just due to sheer numbers, as you can imagine, but doable. I’ll work on dissecting their alarm system on the displayed paintings next. I would appreciate a closer pass around the doors to the staff-only areas, if you don’t mind terribly.”

“Not at all.”

Slowly, they make their way towards Elsa’s directed areas, keeping a leisurely pace and making sure to stop and briefly examine the works on the walls as they go, maintaining their facade as a somewhat distracted young couple. Jones pauses for a particularly long time to examine an impressionistic landscape Emma won’t pretend to recognize without the assistance of the side label she has no intention of looking at. By all appearances, he sees something in there that she doesn’t.

“Shopping, are we?” she leans up to whisper in his ear. It’s not flirting, not really; not real flirting anyways. It’s just all for show, and Emma? Well, she’s a born actress when it comes to a con.

“‘Fraid I don’t have the space on my walls, darling,” he smirks. “Ask me again in a few weeks, maybe I’ll have a bigger, better place. In the meantime, just admiring the colors.”

“I wouldn’t have pegged you for an art enthusiast,” Emma comments as they finally saunter into the particular camera’s range, extracting the gallery guide from her back jeans pocket to give herself a reason to stop.

“I’m not. Doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate it from an amateur standpoint.” He leans in close - for show, of course, all for show - to whisper back in her own ear. “Now let’s hurry up and finish so we can get out of here.”

Emma tosses him a sideways look. “This may seem like a date, but you’re not getting lucky, buddy.”

“And I’d never presume as such. Now, Elsa, what else do you need?”

“A round by the other staff doors, and then just a final pass by the front guard’s desk, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course, lass.”

Killian may be an annoyance, but he really does make a good partner for this kind of thing. Two people on a date is a good reason to stop, to linger, especially in inappropriate places and at inappropriate times. And Jones? Jones is a master of suggestive smirks and flirtatious gazes whose salacious intimacy turns guards’ eyes away. By all appearances, they’re two people going through the motions of a date and just biding their time before some more enjoyable activities - at least on his side.

Emma is fine playing along; it’s easy enough to make the effort to linger in his space - all for appearances, of course - and create little affectionate touches. Hell, it’s even fun to slip her hand into the back pocket of Killian’s jeans and imprint to her memory the way he tries so hard not to jump in surprise at the gesture. But all the while, her mind is elsewhere - cataloging entrance and exit routes, taking note of pieces they’ll want to target, and remembering the faces of the guards to relay to Ruby later. This is work, not fun time; any enjoyment she might be finding is secondary to their goals.

“You can relax now, Swan,” Killian comments once they’ve finally made their way back outside and down the block, tapping at his earpiece to turn it off while Emma does the same. She’s had rather enough of Regina’s particular brand of sarcasm today.

“I’m always relaxed,” she all but snaps back. It rather undermines her own point, but whatever.

“Oh yes, that’s so clearly evidenced by the set of your shoulders. Tell me, are they supposed to sit quite that high and tense?”

Carefully, she makes sure to relax her posture. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Hmm. I’m sure you don’t.” Killian’s smile nearly sparkles, even in the middle of that mocking, not that she’d let it distract her. No, Emma is made of sterner stuff than that. With a quirk of an eyebrow, he slings an arm - the one with a hand, she notices - over those same shoulders. “C’mon, Swan, let’s go down to the bar and check on Ruby,” he declares. “I’ll buy you a drink.”

Emma debates shrugging his arm off, coming back with another snappy quip, but ultimately decides against it; some things just aren’t worth the effort when it’s been a weird day and she’s tired. That doesn’t mean she doesn’t have questions about this little side trip he’s proposing. “Why?”

“Why do I want to buy you a drink? Well, Swan, when a single man - like myself - meets a pretty young lady —”

“You know what I mean, smartass. Why do you want to go to the bar?”

“Ah, that. Well, you’re a bit of an open book Swan, and one who likes to hold all the cards. You’ve been carefully steering this whole data-gathering enterprise; I can tell you want to check in on how Ruby’s doing. I’d never call you a control freak, of course - that’d be terribly bad form - but, well…”

“I am not a control freak,” Emma protests.

“No?”

“No. Regina is a control freak. I am a… control enthusiast.”

“Kinky.”

“Do you just want me to use my pocket knife on you? Is that it?”

“That’s a little too kinky for me, actually, but if that changes at any point, I do promise, Swan, you’ll be the very first to know.”

With a glare, Emma reaches for her back pocket. There’s something so satisfying about the way Jones lifts both his hands in surrender at her renewed threat.

“Alright, Swan, I yield,” he laughs. “Might be best to add another drink onto what I owe you, call it an apology.”

“Make it something dark and strong and you’re on.”

Ruby is, by all appearances, more than fine behind the bar at the Den of Thieves - at least if the tip jar is any indicator. Her low cut blouse and that particular sway of her hips probably helps, but Ruby is naturally predisposed to this kind of thing, friendly and just a little bit flirty and a people person in her very core in a way Emma could never manage. The peppy brunette gives no indication of recognizing either Emma or Killian as she serves them, but their drinks, even for being simple, are prepared and delivered in record time, along with a basket of onion rings a few minutes later than Emma never even had to ask for.

“So,” Killian says once they’ve nearly finished their first drinks - rum for him, bourbon for her - and put in an order for a basket of wings, tucking his hands jauntily beneath his chin. “Tell me about yourself.”

“This isn’t a real date, Jones,” Emma quips back, draining her glass and signalling a Ruby for a refill. “Sorry to break it to you, but that touchy feely business back at the gallery? All for show.”

Killian clutches at his chest dramatically. “Break a man’s heart, why don’t you, Swan?”

Emma just shrugs, reaching for another onion ring. No real way to respond to that, and no real need, either.

“But really, Swan. Tell me something.”

“Well, I’m a Scorpio, I like long walks on the beach, and I’m just looking for that perfect partner in crime, you know?” Emma replies, purposefully pitching her voice high and giggly.

“Oh, now that was funny, love. Partner in crime - I see what you did there.”

“I couldn’t possibly begin to understand what you mean.” Batting her eyelashes really sells the effect, in Emma’s opinion.

“Picture of innocence, truly.”

“That’s me.” Emma quickly nods her thanks as one of Robin’s regular staff deposits their wings platter, picking up and twirling a saucy drumette between her fingers. “Why do you want to know.”

“I don’t know,” Killian shrugs, reaching for his own bite. “As long as we’re working together, I figured it’d be nice to get to know each other. We don’t have to, I suppose, but I thought it might be preferable to sitting in silence.”

“What, 20 Questions then?”

“Aye. I’ll even let you go first.”

“You’re the one who wanted to play.”

“Yes, but I’m also a gentleman. Ask your questions, Swan.”

“Fine.” The problem is, Emma doesn’t really know what she wants to ask. But the silence sits there, complete with an expectant look on Jones’ face, and she finally settles on a cop-out of a question. “What’s your favorite color?”

“Unexpected choice of question. I like it. Blue grey, like the ocean on a windy day. Pancakes, waffles, or French toast?”

“Oh, and you said I picked something unexpected. Pancakes. With chocolate chips and whipped cream. Fantasy heist?”

“Some old sailing ship. Really embrace the pirate vibe. Any hobbies?”

Emma looks at him skeptically. “Does art theft not count?”

“Fair enough,” he laughs. It’s a nice sound, not that she’s paying attention. “Back to you.”

“Dream trip?”

“Someplace ancient. Maybe Greece. Ask me again next week and I’ll tell you something different. How do you take your coffee?”

“This feels like some kind of sly come-on,” Emma comments wryly.

“And that feels like avoidance. Answer the question, Swan.”

“Fine. I take it in the form of hot chocolate. With cinnamon. If I need the caffeine I’ll shotgun a Red Bull or something instead.”

“Red Bull? That’s disgusting, Swan.”

“That’s effective. And it’s my turn to ask a question.”

“So ask it.”

She pauses just a moment before diving in. “How did you find your way into this business?” Even as Emma speaks the words, she knows this is what they’ve been leading up to - why he, a man who should be able to make a respectable living, has wound up here, trafficking stolen goods. It doesn’t make sense, even if he is excellent at his job.

“Ah.” Killian’s smile is visibly strained as his head bows to address the table instead of Emma’s face. “It’s not a particularly noble story, I’m afraid.”

“You don’t have to tell me,” Emma rushes to assure him. “I know when you suggested this game you didn’t think that —”

“It’s fine, Swan, really. I was never some knight in shining armor anyways.” He knocks back the rest of his drink quickly and signals for another. “I was actually in the Royal Navy for a stretch. Joined up with my brother.”

“That… actually makes sense. How’d a nice Navy boy turn to the life of crime?”

“Lost my brother, lost my hand. Was left with… pretty much nothing, really.” He jiggles the empty glass like a nervous habit, making the remaining ice cubes click softly together. “Found myself very at ends. And then, Will Scarlet sauntered back into my life, needed help.”

“Wait - Will Scarlet?” Emma should let him finish the story, but she knows that name. Fuck, she’s worked with that name before. “You know Will Scarlet?”

“Aye. Grew up together, actually, though we took very different paths after graduation. I take it you know him as well?”

“Pickpocket and thief? Kind of an asshole?”

“Oh, an absolute right bastard when he wants to be. Which he does, nine times out of ten. But he’s a loyal friend, and when I was drinking my benefits away at any pub I could find, not much caring whether I lived or died, he came to me and told me he needed help. Someone charming enough to help him get a good price on one of his larger pulls. And it just kind of… spiraled from there. Half of dealing in stolen goods is charm, you know. Charm enough to talk a price up or down, or convince a buyer that there’s absolutely no way a purchase can ever be traced back to them even when you know you can’t promise it. It’s a good fit for, if not the one I anticipated when I first joined up, fresh out of school. What about you, though?” he asks, quickly changing the subject. “How’d a lovely young lady like you embrace the life of crime?”

This isn’t really a story Emma likes to tell; Regina only weaseled it out of her after several years and quite a lot of tequila. But it seems like something she should tell Killian - tit for tat, and all that. Besides, he bared his soul to her, and all because she asked; it’s only right that she do the same.

“It was probably inevitable, one way or another,” she admits. “I, uh… I grew up alone. No parents, ward of the state, blah blah blah. A couple of prospective adoptions that didn’t happen when I was little and then a whole chain of temporary group homes. Until…”

“Until?” Killian gently prompts when Emma doesn’t pick back up immediately.

“Until I ran away from the umpteenth foster home or group home - I honestly don’t remember which - and David caught me trying to shoplift from a gas station.”

“Ah. The infamous brother.”

“The very one,” Emma agrees. “Who you obviously know now isn’t my real brother. But he was… he kind of took me under his wing, you know? In a way I didn’t expect at 15. His father was a big name in certain circles - less than legal circles. Robert Nolan. Infamous for faking his own death a couple times. And they took me in - David and Robert and his wife, Ruth. Turns out angels or saints or whatever the fuck you want to call them don’t necessarily live on the right side of the law. Robert taught me to pick my first lock, and, well, the rest was history, as the mysterious they always say.”

“That’s nice, in a larcenous kind of way.”

“It was. Is? Robert died, for real this time, a few years back. Ruth’s still around, though. Made sure to come visit me in prison, even when I told her to stay away. Moms, I guess.”

“And your brother? He didn’t…”

“Wind up dead or behind bars?” Emma completes. “No. Though he might as well have. David was the safe-cracker on the east coast for a while, but he retired.”

“No shit?”

“None to speak of. Met a schoolteacher, got married, moved out to Maine. They’ve got an honest-to-God farm, with sheep and a tractor and… other farm things that I never want to know about.”

“Different strokes, I suppose.”

“Or something. I’m just happy he’s happy. Maybe when this is over I’ll drop in for a visit. Try my hand at gathering eggs or something.”

“I’m sure he’d like that,” Killian smiles. “Especially if you haven’t seen each other in years.”

“Yeah, well, if he doesn’t, too bad. He’s the one who adopted me, not the other way ‘round,” she comments, raising her glass in a mock salute. She likes the way it makes him laugh - though that might just be the bourbon talking. “I think it’s time for… literally any other question, honestly. Tell me about the pirate fixation.”

Gratefully, Killian lets her change the subject. “Ah. Well, you see, when I was a young boy, my brother read me Peter Pan…”

———

It’s just a drink. Well, several drinks, and a basket of onion rings and a wing platter. But it somehow makes Killian a person, a person Emma could actually like, instead of some man with an attitude she didn’t want on her team at the beginning of all of this. She knows a thing or two about defense mechanisms and emotional armor anyways.

“Oh, please tell me that you and Jones just buried the proverbial hatchet and not the euphemistic one,” Regina groans after Killian hands Emma a coffee cup with a wink the next morning. A large hot chocolate. With a healthy sprinkle of cinnamon on the top.

Seems he might have listened, just a bit.

“Okay, first of all, the euphemistic hatchet is not a thing. Like, that’s not a phrase. And if it was, I don’t think Jones needs that kind of ego boost. We’d never hear the end of it,” Emma argues.

“None of this sounds like a denial.”

“Well, it is. Because - second of all - we did not have sex. Which is the phrase real adults use.”

“Calling yourself a real adult undermines the spirit of the thing.”

Emma flips her off. It’s earned.

“Fine. You didn’t have sex. So this is all just… you suddenly discovering a new and more forgiving side of yourself?”

“Well, you know, I figured he was less insufferable than you, Reg, and it was all sunshine and roses from there.”

“Fair enough.” Regina holds out her own coffee cup - doubtless filled with some disgusting double shot concoction she ordered herself from an uppity coffee shop - to tap against Emma’s. “I’m just glad to see you two getting along better. Though maybe we could hear it less.”

“I make no promises.”

Across the room, Killian meets her eyes with a smile from where he’s listening to something Tink is saying, and Emma can’t help but smile back. They would have managed this job even if Killian and her hadn’t come to this agreement (detente, he’d probably say), but she can’t deny this makes things easier.

Alright, Swan? he mouths from across the room, smiling even wider when she nods in return.

It’s just drinks, and it’s just coffee - but it’s a start.

#captain swan #cs ff #cs fanfiction #captain swan ff #Swan's Seven #my writing #Ocean's 8 AU #in which the banter is truly off the chart

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teamhook · 3 years

Text

Chaste Love :: The 40 Year(ish) Old Virgin CS AU for CSMM

Thank you @ultraluckycatnd for being the amazing patient beta she is!

Thank you to the @captainswanmoviemarathon and the CSMM Discord shipmates!

JUST TO CONFIRM NO CHEST HAIR WAS HARMED IN THE WRITING OF THIS CHAPTER

|AO3| |FFN|

Arthur had walked by and caught the whole thing. As soon as Emma and Henry left, he approached Killian's workstation with a wide smile. "Killian Jones, are you befriending the son to get in with the mom? I never thought you'd have that in you."

Killian scoffs, "I would never."

"That was the hot girl I was helping the other day right? Damn, she is looking good, but I don't deal with kids." Arthur shudders.

Killian glares. "She is a beautiful lass, I admit, but I would never use the lad for nefarious intentions. He is a good kid."

"Well, if you are interested, you should go for it. Maybe she will pop your cherry. She obviously has experience."

Killian shakes his head. "Whatever. I'm going back to work as you should too."

"Hey Killian, go for it!" Arthur laughs as he watches the other man disappear into his workspace.

Later before the end of the workday, Arthur saunters back to Killian's work area. "Hey, Killian. How about we take you out for a makeover? If you are interested in the lovely lady, this will help your chances."

"We? Who is we exactly?" Killian asked cautiously without rejecting the offer.

Arthur grinned. "David, Robin, and myself. We are taking you for a makeover, maybe get you some clothes. I know, a leather jacket to make the ladies swoon and fall at your feet. Or knees, if you know what I mean." Arthur's eyebrows waggle.

Killian's nose wrinkles in disgust. "I don't know. I like the way I dress."

"But do the ladies? Killian, come on. We can wax your chest hair. I have it done all the time and the ladies love it," Arthur says as he mentally made a list of what needed to be done.

Killian wonders for a moment if perhaps a lovely blonde would be attracted to such changes.

Hesitantly, Killian agrees. After work, he goes shopping with Arthur, David, and Robin. The men argue amongst themselves on what would be a better look for Killian.

Killian stands idly by as he waits for them to agree on anything. He wanders off to see if anything catches his eye. When he told his brother about the proposed makeover over the phone, Liam had urged him to accept the offer and added, "Have some fun little brother, and open your heart to the possibility of love." Killian knows his heart was open after meeting Emma; he just doesn't know how to close the deal.

Soon, the group of men stood outside a Spa and Salon while still arguing about the pros and cons of waxing Killian's chest. Arthur claims that women preferred it. Robin and David argue they preferred a natural look. They did agree that back hair was not appealing at all. While Killian wavers with his decision, Arthur goes in to get his own chest done. A short time later, Killian says firmly he will not do it once the men witness Arthur going through the procedure. The screams and curses heard would make anyone blush.

The next day, Killian enters work with a bit of pep in his step. It was a little crazy how much new clothes could build confidence. He's still wearing his glasses, but he has an appointment with his eye doctor to finally take the plunge and get contacts. He will finally call the blonde goddess that has captured his heart and ask her out on a date.

When the whole day at work consisted of pining and longing, he knew he had it bad.

"Jones." Arthur enters Killian's workspace and snaps him out of his daydream. "We should hang out tonight. I know this place and a lot of hot, desperate, horny women hang out there and with your makeover, I'm sure you can easily convince one to do you the favor and make you a man."

Killian rolls his eyes. "I'm not going out to get laid."

"Killian, do you really want that hot mom to have to teach you about the birds and the bees? She already has one kid, I doubt she wants another one."

Killian Jones has never been a night owl or a partier. He isn't opposed to a good time, but his definition of one differs from others. But his brother's words still rung in his head to have fun, so he agreed to a night out with Arthur. He wishes David and Robin could accompany them to help him if Arthur got too pushy, but they both had ladies of their own. When they got there, the singles bar was swarming with people and the music was too loud. Killian already hates it. Why would anyone subject themselves to a place like this? Arthur keeps pointing out women to him saying they look like a good time. Killian gives a shy smile and an awkward wave while Arthur prefers the nod. While at the bar, a redhead approaches Killian.

"Hello," she slurs. "You are very pretty. How about we get out of here and you show me what's underneath those tight pants," she leers as she looks him up and down.

Killian is speechless; he never thought a woman would approach him, much less ask to see his most private appendage. Sadly, Arthur overhears the conversation and hisses, "Go for it! She wants you, remember the mission." Arthur nudges him in her direction.

They reach his car and she pounces, only to miss his lips. She tries again, only to be stopped by Killian. "Lass, I don't even know your name yet. How about we have a cup of coffee?"

He puts space between them and she looks at him confused, turning a shade of green. "What, is it you don't like the ladies?"

He gently steadies her. "I do like the ladies, but you are drunk. It would be bad form to take advantage of your state."

She rolls her eyes and tries again for the kiss but instead, she throws up the content of her stomach on his shoes.

Killian stands still until she finishes. She looks up and wipes the vomit from her mouth. "I knew it. You don't like women. What a waste of such luscious lips." She shakes her head as she walks away to a man that resembles a monkey and lunges at him. He welcomes the attack and they leave in his car.

Killian looks down at his shoes and shakes them off. He opens his car door and takes out a trash bag to put them in before he drives home. He just wants to put an end to the night so he can put it behind him.

Days after his night out, Killian keeps dodging Arthur's questions. He stays in his space all day. The only time he steps out is to go use the facilities. He feels ridiculous having to avoid the man, but he would never hear the end of it. As he is about to sneak out to go get something to eat, he hears his name being called out on the store paging system. Killian turns around to the little information station and his eyes land on Arthur.

Bloody hell. Should he lie and say he did do something with the redhead? He can't help the grumble that escapes his lips. Arthur puts down the PA microphone and walks over.

"Jones, so tell me, how was the redhead? She looked crazy and the crazy ones are amazing in the sack!" Arthur asks with anticipation of the dirty details.

Killian scratches behind his ear. "She..." he winces, "went home with another guy."

"How did that happen? She left the bar all over you. How did you ruin it?"

"She was drunk and she threw up on me and I'm just not the type of guy who takes advantage of women in that situation," Killian says and walks away. He is not going to be ridiculed by Arthur for being a gentleman.

It has been a long day and Killian has no idea what Arthur has told the guys, but David and Robin both approach him with a small smile as they mumble 'better luck next time'.

Cruella stops him before his shift ends to simply say, "Killian, I would gladly take you to bed, and no one has to know. I know tricks." As she walks by him, she squeezes his ass.

Killian yelps and turns beet red. He can't get out of there fast enough.

At home, Killian stares at the card Emma had given him the first time they met. He picks up his phone and dials her number. The sound of her voice on the line makes him panic and he hangs up. How did he ever think he could do this?

Tagging:

@rumdrum91 @itsfabianadocarmo @xsajx @hookedonapirate @kmomof4 @searchingwardrobes @seriouslyhooked @profdanglaisstuff @let-it-raines @revanmeetra87 @snowbellewells @hollyethecurious @kymbersmith-90 @branlovestowrite @thejollyroger-writer @shireness-says @ilovemesomekillianjones @thisonesatellite @thesschesthair @winterbythesea @stahlop @resident-of-storybrooke @superchocovian @lfh1226-linda @artistic-writer @thislassishooked @shardminds @winterbaby89 @xhookswenchx @ultraluckycatnd @gingerchangeling @laschatzi @wellhellotragic @xemmaloveskillianx @courtorderedcake @pirateherokillian @optomisticgirl @darkcolinodonorgasm @andiirivera @djlbg @nikkiemms @jennjenn615 @scientificapricot @officerrogers @imlaxdris71 @therealstartraveller776 @kday426 @allons-y-to-hogwarts-713 @donteattheappleshook @spacekrulesbians @lassluna @carpedzem @captainodonoghue @killian-will-do @jarienn972 @tehgreeneyes @demisexualemmaswan @queen-serena88 @swanslieutenant @tiganasummertree @whimsicallyenchantedrose @bethacaciakay @ohmakemeahercules @jrob64 @klynn-stormz @mariakov81 @sals86 @elizabeethan @brooke-to-broch @hookedonhiddles @onceratheart18 @the-darkdragonfly @veryverynotgoodwrites @jonesfandomfanatic @wefoundloveunderthelight @cocohook38

#Captain Swan #CSMM #CSMM20 #cs ff #Captain Swan Movie Marathon

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let-it-raines · 4 years

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CS Fic Rec Monday

I hope you’re all staying safe and inside as much as physically possible! I said I was going to do this weeks ago, but I finally remembered to queue it all up! Here are some dang good multi-chapter fics you can curl up with! You’ve probably already read them if you’ve been around for awhile, but rereading is fun, too! Plus, I know these writers would get excited to see a new comment or two 😘

-/-

As Real As You Want it To Be by @ive-always-been-a-pirate: Teaching at the same school as Killian Jones was both infuriating and distracting, but when he throws Emma under the bus for the final time, she devises a plan to get back at him. After all, nobody likes to go to a wedding alone. Time for some CS AU fake dating.

Warm Nights and Firelight by @oubliette14: When in the wake of a messy breakup Emma makes the impulsive decision to return home to her parent's ranch in the Rockies, she certainly doesn't expect to find a strange Irish guy living in what was once her apartment over the garage, and she definitely doesn't imagine that the home she couldn't wait to be rid of five long years ago would be the very place her heart begins to heal.

If Looks Could Kill by @wellhellotragic: Emma Swan is a dedicated FBI agent getting over a bad breakup. When she and her partner, Ruby Lucas, are forced to go undercover as contestants on a reality show, Emma is forced to try and win the affections of Killian Jones, a man she despises.Killian Jones is a lost boy. Having recently been nicknamed the ‘Bad Boy of Boston,’ he’s been living up to his moniker using women and rum to avoid dealing with his dark past. When he’s forced to take the lead in a reality show, he encounters a gorgeous blonde who turns his world upside down. Miss Congeniality meets The Bachelor.

The Reason by @xemmaloveskillianx: The three of them share a laugh before they all look to Emma. She has yet to comment on the new addition because she isn’t sure what to say. She usually doesn’t like change, they have a good thing going there, just the four of them. Plus, they all know him and she doesn’t, but she trusts their judgement, and she’s sure any brother of Liam can’t be all that bad.So, with a shrug and a smile she says, “Welcome to Storybrooke, Killian Jones.

The Wife by @ineffablecolors: No one knows all that Emma has been through and certainly no one knows all that Killian has been through and being husband and wife doesn’t make them any less unknown to each other. And really, how can you help someone heal when you don’t even know how hurt they are?

Beauty in the Aftermath by @high-seas-swan: Confronted with the sudden appearance of her birth parents, Emma, in a moment of panic, flees. She flees the diner, Storybrooke, the country. She finds herself a day later in the Dublin, Ireland Airport terminal wondering what the hell she has gotten herself into. With some fear, a little determination and a considerable amount of faking it along the way, she sets off on a trip she never planned on taking but needed more than she ever knew. She finds herself, she finds a Brit adrift on his own journey and finds out what home really means.

Playing the Part by @shireness-says: As a stage manager who's clawed her way up from the bottom, Emma Swan can handle just about anything thrown her way. But does that include handsome lead actor Killian Jones? A CS Broadway AU.

Love, Kindness, and Other Useless Things by @joneskillian: CS AU, set in 1815. Lord Killian Jones is haunted by the demons of his past which makes him nowhere near the man he once was, so he can't be the father he wants to be. And above all, he believes he is undeserving of love. Perhaps with Emma that is all about to change. But falling in love is never easy, that's just how it is.

Something Like You Love Me by @bemusedbicycle: Emma decides the best way to get Mary Margaret off her back about Walsh is to say she already has a boyfriend. Except she doesn’t. That’s where Killian comes in. Fake!Engagement fic.

a one time thing (and other untruths) by @weezlywrites: "She supposes the reason she tells him is the same reason she kept his phone number after all those weeks." Pregnancy has a way of throwing a wrench in one's plans.

Alone, until I get Home by @peglegsjones: In Boston, Henry Swan's six-year-old brother Ian finds a book titled "Once Upon a Time" hidden beneath the seat in their mom's old yellow bug. As soon as Henry touches it, he remembers.Season 3 Canon Divergence-Emma finds out she's pregnant a few weeks after she and Henry leave Storybrooke with new memories and new lives. Nearly seven years later, another Dark Curse puts her family in danger, and Emma must return to Storybrooke to help them.Who's powerful enough to cast the Dark Curse? And how the hell is she going to tell Hook they have a son together?

Knock, Knock by @charmingturkeysandwich: Emma Swan has made the best of her crappy apartment ever since she became best friends with her neighbor, Ruby. But when Ruby moves out and a loud Brit takes her place, the thin walls and lack of space are suddenly not so endearing. After a particularly stressful day, Emma decides to confront the nightmare next door, and entirely against her better judgment, she might just be making a friend.

These Nights Aren’t Made For Thinking by @nowforruin: AU. Emma Swan came to Portland, ME to start over. She's got a job she loves, but when a particular case gets under her skin, she finds herself visiting the Jolly Roger and its curious bartender, Mr. Killian Jones, more often than she thinks is wise. But some nights aren't made for thinking. Captain Swan.

On the Two by @lifeinahole27: He’s one bad trip from ending up in AA, and she’s one performance away from a solid job and moving closer to home. Their paths were unlikely to cross until Camp Hope brought them together. How and why they meet and intertwine is against the odds, and definitely against the rules, but will that really stand in their way? A Dirty Dancing inspired modern au.

Separate Lives by @lenfaz: Set after 3x20 "Kansas". After saving the town one more time, Emma decided to return to New York, leaving her past behind. Three years later, she realizes that might be not have been the best decision.

Natural Opposite by @searchingwardrobes: Dance is more than Emma Swan’s career; it’s practically saved her life on more than one occasion. But when it comes to reality TV shows, she’s always danced in the shadows of her twin brother David and her sister Elsa. Her first season as a pro on Dancing With the Stars was a disaster, and she enters her second season determined to prove herself. All she needs is a good partner. Hollywood bad boy and ladies’ man Killian Jones isn’t what she had in mind.

Walking in a Straight Line by @msgenevievee: It’s one of the oldest stories in the book. Two old friends have a few too many drinks, two old friends share a kiss. Happens all the time, right? But what happens when only one of them actually remembers it?

Out of the Frying Pan by @welllpthisishappening: Emma Swan is only doing this for one reason, well, make that two. To get her show's numbers back up and, maybe, impress her son. She doesn't like admitting to that second one though.Killian Jones is doing this for absolutely, positively, just one reason. To expand his restaurant. And maybe get Regina off his back. So that's kind of two reasons.Neither one of them is doing a year-long Food Network all-star competition because they're celebrity chefs and there's not really any other choice. Of course not. And neither one of them is enjoying it because they maybe, kind of, sort of enjoy each other. That would be insane.

A Cold Awakening by @swanderful1: Modern crime AU. Twenty years have gone by since Storybrooke was shaken to the core by a gruesome crime that went unsolved. Sheriff David Nolan and his partner, daughter Emma are forced to revisit the crime. At the same time, Killian Jones and his older brother Liam have been drawn back to the town they had longed to never see again, struggling to find their own answers. As taunting notes and clues show up they are taken on a journey to finally bring justice for the Jones family. And Emma Nolan finds herself caught in a situation more dangerous than she could have ever imagined.

Beyond the Horizon by @alexandralyman: AU: When Princess Emma's ship is captured by the Jolly Roger and Captain Killian Jones, she offers herself as a hostage for ransom if he will let the ship and the other passengers go. With Emma, Killian remembers the honour he once held dear, and Emma catches glimpses of the gentleman Killian had been. Against all odds, the pirate and the princess begin to fall for each other.

#csfrm #cs fic rec #cs fic #cs ff rec #Captain Swan #queue poetic noble land mermaid

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lifeinahole27 · 4 years

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CS ff: “Walking the Tightrope” (Chapter 8/10) (au)

Summary: Killian’s daily routines are a matter of habit. When he wakes up late one morning, his routines all change for the better. Emma doesn’t care about routines, but she does care about Killian, no matter how reluctant she is to admit it to herself.

Rating: E (the content warnings matter this time!)

Content Warnings: Please be aware that this chapter discusses professor/student relations in the past, non-consensual pictures in the past, and some present, consensual, loving, and happy sexual relations. Gotta find a balance somehow. (This chapter also nicknamed "The One where Sarah calls out a shitty storyline from FRIENDS.)

A Special Thank You: My continued gratitude to my lovely friends, @captainstudmuffin and @phiralovesloki. And a heap of love to @captainswanbigbang for putting this together and helping me accomplish this.

Find it on Ao3 & FFN!

-x-

Chapter 8: Unearthed

It takes time, but they both manage to get out some of the difficult parts of their pasts. Emma tells Killian snippets of her former relationships, including why she ran from Henry the first time she saw him. Graham’s story is kept brief, Walsh is brushed off as a bad experience. Killian is patient about it, holding her hand and listening closely. She can see the questions forming behind his eyes, but he never pushes for more info than she’s willing to share.

He’s hiding bits of his own past, too. He’s very open about the accident that took his hand, how he grew up in Liam’s shadow but preferred it that way, and his strong passions for fiction and poetry. But when it comes to information about his time in university, she sees the way his shoulders tense. There’s a lack of enthusiasm when he speaks of his master’s studies. She’s seen the picture of him at graduation that sits in his office. She knows there’s more to the story.

They’re watching television one night, background noise as he works on some edits. With the money they got for upgrades, Emma purchased a shiny new laptop, one specifically loaded with the software to digitize the town’s records, and so they work on their own stuff together.

Something on the screen that neither of them are glued to must catch his attention, however. It’s a rerun, something that used to be popular but has now reached syndication and thus plays on every channel when there’s downtime. It’s something Emma’s seen enough times that she knows the general storyline without really even paying attention. It’s the one where a professor starts a relationship with a student.

While she’s mostly tuning it out, it seems Killian is finally tuning in, and she looks up as he lurches for her television remote and hits the power button. His breathing is visibly quicker than it should be. Even when the screen goes dark, there’s a tension around his eyes she has never seen before.

“You okay?” she asks, mostly because she’s not sure he remembers she’s there right now.

He shakes himself a little bit, brushing off the moment for all she can tell, before he turns to her. “Hate this show,” he responds.

“It’s been on for the last hour.”

As he focuses on her face, she can see the moment he sheds whatever was trying to creep up on him. “I was pretty deep in my work. I do apologize, love.” He’s lying, but she’s willing to let it go if it’s something from his past that he doesn’t want to talk about.

“Hey, no worries.” She reaches out, squeezing his bicep once for comfort. “You want coffee? Tea?”

“I’ll get it. What would you like?”

“Surprise me,” she says, knowing that he’ll bring back the hot chocolate he knows she loves.

By the time he returns, the tightness on his face has eased up a bit, but it’s replaced with something she would call contemplation. “Swan, I want to tell you a little piece of my past, but I hope you won’t judge me too hard or let it change the way you feel about me.”

“A little ominous, but okay. Go for it.”

“Back in university, I was involved with one of my professors.”

Emma takes a moment to let it absorb, trying not to flinch or let her facial expressions change at all. It’s his past, and she knows just as well that those moments shouldn’t define the current moment.

“Tell me about it?”

“As you know, Liam convinced me to enroll in university as a way to pull me out of my slump after I lost my hand. He helped find out if I could take my classes online since I wasn’t ready to go out into the world.”

Emma reaches over, closing her fingers over the hook attachment he has on today. It’s become second nature, but sometimes she wants to tell him without words that she accepts him for who he is and this is one of those moments.

“Eventually, I was comfortable going to classes on campus. I was engrossed in all things to do with writing and literature and editing, and knew that’s the direction I wanted to take. And then I met Milah, one of the professors for a professional writing class. And she was just that for a while, and then when I entered into my master’s studies, we sort of…crossed the boundaries when she was helping me with a project.”

“Milah was married, is married, though they are separated. Her husband, some wealthy bastard, agreed that if she was discreet that they could see other people. He wasn’t anticipating that she would take up with a student, former or otherwise.

“What did he do?”

“Threatened to expose the affair to the university. Milah would’ve been fired. I would’ve likely been expelled. He said he would divorce her and cut her off from his wealth. He only agreed to back off when Milah and I split and I filed to finish my master’s online, much as I began the whole journey.”

“Was the money that important to her?” It’s the question that hits; she can tell immediately.

He grimaces before answering. “She liked to pretend it wasn’t. Painted herself as a free spirit that didn’t need wealth. But it didn’t stop her from walking away from me like it meant nothing.”

Without even prodding, Emma can see that the story isn’t done. She adjusts her grip on him and waits for him to continue.

“I almost didn’t finish my degree after that. I started drinking heavily every chance I got. Took Liam a couple weeks to figure out what was going on, pried out what had happened, and then intervened. He’s the only reason I still completed my coursework.”

“He sounds like a good brother.”

“Right pain in the arse, but yes, he is.”

“You really loved her?”

“Aye. She’s the only person outside my own family that I ever professed my love for.” He’s quiet for a moment before meeting her eyes once more. “Have you ever been in love, Swan?”

“Maybe I thought I was, once,” she admits. Mostly, she realizes that the feelings she thought she had for Neal and the ones she told Walsh she had were nothing compared to the way Killian makes her feel. “Thanks for sharing all of this with me.”

“I figured you should know,” he tells her, simple as that.

When Friday rolls around, she’s all set to join her boyfriend and friends in public. Normally, Emma would be one of the first to ditch out on work and get to their usual spot in the bar, but tonight she’s working with Belle to relabel and organize their filing system. Previously, their idea of “orderly” bordered on chaos, and they had trouble keeping track of just about everything. Along with the digital system, they decided to reconfigure the physical records as well.

They’re in the process of fixing the system when Emma’s email account dings, and she glances at it briefly to make sure it’s nothing important before they get back to work.

What she finds, instead, is a message with a link to a website. Normally, she would write this off as a spam account, but there’s no fill-in-the-blank recipient. There’s no lead-up to the message at all. Just the words written below a link: You’ll have to trust me. Type in code 92574. Check Maine.

With a heavy amount of trepidation, Emma clicks the link and follows the instructions. Her brows furrow as she tries to process what she’s looking at, but it appears to be some kind of personal page, with links to the fifty states. Finding Maine in the list, she clicks it, and almost immediately drops her phone as if burned.

“Oh my fucking god,” she mutters, her vision blurring around the edges.

“Emma is - oh! Oh my goodness!” Belle immediately backs away from the glance she’s just stolen at Emma’s unlocked phone on her desk, looking back at Emma with horror and surprise in her eyes. “What…. What is all that?”

“Something I was told was destroyed a long time ago,” Emma says, her voice shaking and her body feeling heavy and weak all at once. “Can you drive stick?” Her phone finally goes dark and auto-locks, and she’s honestly not sure if she can feel her face right now.

“I’ll text Will and let him know we’re on our way.”

-x- December 13: Friday

The last few weeks since Thanksgiving have been some of the best in Killian’s life. While the project of Henry’s novella is speeding up in momentum and racing towards the end, he and Emma have been taking things at their own pace and enjoying every moment together that they can.

It’s getting easier for them to talk about their pasts. From their shared lack of parentage to finally breaking the barrier of previous relationships, he knows they’ve both made great strides. Being able to tell her about Milah and not have her go running for the hills was admittedly a huge relief, and he only hopes that she’ll trust him to open up about anything she’s still holding out.

Normally, when they go out on Fridays, Emma is right by his side when he enters the bar. While Emma is working with Belle, he and Will have gone to the bar early to have their own catch-up until everyone else arrives.

They each spend a fair amount of time grousing about work, about late nights and tired eyes and how much they love their jobs despite their words. And they also spend just as much time talking about the women in their lives. He’s happy to see Will as content as he is. He also knows that, despite the strange and often passive-aggressive friendship between the two of them, Will is happy to see Killian with Emma.

About an hour after they sit down, Will gets a text from Belle saying that the two women are on their way. They each share a look, automatically noticing that something feels off, but unable to tell what. That sensation is amplified by the look on Belle’s face when she arrives with Emma not far behind.

There’s a tightness around her eyes that Killian has never seen the soft-spoken woman have before. Emma is just behind her, with her arms crossed over her chest and a look that he would best describe as being a cross between solemn and murderous. Only his girlfriend could manage that combination of expressions.

“All right, Swan?”

“No. Not all right. Can uh, can we go back to my place?”

“Sure. Let me just -”

“I’ve got the tab. Go on,” Will says, his thick eyebrows drawn together.

The Bug is waiting for them when they get out, still running. Clearly, she hadn’t intended on spending long inside whether he was coming with her or not.

They’re silent on the drive back to her place, and even while they make the trek up to her loft. She’s quiet as she unwraps her scarf and kicks off her boots, all with deliberate and jerky movements.

“I have to kind of process through something,” she says, her voice thick with a myriad of emotions. “I don’t wanna talk. I don’t really want to do anything at all. But will you stay with me?”

“I’m here as long as you’ll have me. Whatever you need,” he tells her, making sure to catch her eyes so she knows he’s being honest.

Wordlessly, she locks the door before she leads him upstairs.

While Killian is normally the one with the carefully crafted routines - which, admittedly, have taken a backseat to finally relaxing and enjoying his time here in Storybrooke - there are certain things that Emma does every morning and every night as far as her own rituals command. He has never seen her go straight to her room without carefully scrubbing her face and teeth and removing her contacts.

Usually, she also takes that time to braid her hair to keep it from tangling too much while she sleeps, but tonight she leaves it hanging free, and he’s surprised when she only shucks off her clothes and pulls on a t-shirt before climbing into her bed.

Following suit, Killian removes his clothes and quickly folds them, leaving them on the cedar chest by the bottom of her bed as he usually does when he stays over before he climbs under the covers. Immediately, Emma is shifting until she’s pressed against him, her ear over his heart and her arm wrapped tightly around his midsection.

“You won’t leave?”

“Only if you tell me to,” he admits, hoping that it’s what she needs to hear. Her grip only tightens, and he decides to stay awake as long as he can to make sure she’s all right.

He must doze off because he wakes again to Emma’s lips pressed against his, her hand sliding into his boxers to stroke him awake. As soon as he’s aware of it, he’s kissing her back, helping her push down his boxers before she hastily rips off her own underwear and finds a condom. This is not how they usually have sex - he recognizes it immediately - but even as he hesitates, he hears her whispers.

“Please - I know, please, I just need…”

He responds by pulling her closer, kissing her as hard as she was kissing him to let her know he’s on board. She slides on top of him, gripping his hand like a lifeline and rocking against him as if it’s her one salvation. He can feel the panic and anger with each move of her hips above him and he just holds on, hopes she can feel the reassurance radiating from him, hopes she feels that he’s an anchor she can trust - that he’ll be with her no matter what this all means.

When they’re both sated, she collapses onto his chest, and to his surprise he feels the quiet sobs wracking through her body a few heartbeats later. She only really cries when she’s angry - she admitted as much to him some time ago when they were trying to decipher the use of pathos in commercials. He wraps his arms around her, running his hand soothingly over the small of her back and whispering anything he thinks may bring her back to him.

“I’m sorry,” she finally says, her voice hoarse. “I’m sorry that wasn’t… I basically just used you to fuck away my anger and that’s not…”

“Swan,” he says quietly, releasing his hold on her so he can coax her to look at him. “No apologies necessary, love.”

With hasty swipes, she dries her face. “I’m just so mad right now.”

“Will you tell me what about?”

“Just… give me a couple more minutes,” she says, sliding off of him and climbing off the bed. He hears her footsteps retreating down the stairs and the door to the lavatory close.

He takes a deep breath, pushing himself to sit up, turning on the light beside her bed and grabbing a couple tissues to clean himself up. He slips his boxers back up while he’s at it before sliding between the sheets again.

When she returns to her bedroom, her hair is tied up and her robe is wrapped around her like body armor. She must’ve used the time to scrub the last of her makeup off, as well, and his heart stutters a beat to see her looking so down but still so beautiful. She climbs up, sitting next to him at the head of the bed with her legs crossed at the ankles.

He’s watching her carefully, trying to not pressure her to talk but wishing she would say anything at this point, as the silence is slowly pressing in around them.

“My last ex was the absolute worst,” she finally starts, fingers fiddling with the ties on her robe. “Worse than Neal, obviously. And worse than I ever thought he was when I found him cheating on me the day that Ruth died.”

He’s quiet, understanding that now is not the time for empty condolences for either incident. Instead, he reaches out and places his hand on her knee.

“He was a shitty antiques dealer down in Boston, never wanted to come up here to visit, never wanted to be seen with me, it seemed like. And unfortunately, he kept a lot of mementos from our time together.”

“How so?”

“You know how I told you I burned my uniform a couple years ago?”

He nods in response, tilting his head and wondering just where this could be going. She’d told him the beige monster was uncomfortable and unflattering, saying that any photographic evidence of the uniform in question was destroyed along with it.

“Well, I left a tiny part out,” she admits, looking over at him briefly.

“Nothing you tell me is going to run me off, Swan. I promise.”

With a bracing breath, she nods, focusing back on her hands in her lap. “I used to wear a uniform. Took it down to Boston with me because I was supposed to go straight to work the day I left his place. And he wanted to see it on. We were joking around and having fun.” She stops, grimacing and visibly willing her face to relax a moment later. “I let him take pictures. He had this fancy photo printer so he had physical copies and deleted them after they were done. At least, that’s what he swore he did. Just like everything else, it turns out that was a lie.

“Emma?”

“He has a website. A fucking website with all of us.”

“All of who?”

“Every girl he fucked in the year that he and I were together, according to the site description. He proposed to me, you know, right before we ended things. I was going to say yes but told him to give me some time. Ruth passed away about a week after he asked me and I drove all the way to Boston because I wanted… needed the person that claimed to love me. And he was in the middle of fucking another woman when I walked in the door. I told him to give me the photos before I left while this redhead sat naked on his bed and watched me gather my stuff.”

“And you got the physical ones from him?”

“Yeah, no surprise he lied about those being the only copies. He kept them in the top drawer of his dresser, so now I have to wonder where the rest are kept. The day after Ruth’s funeral, I burned the uniform - with David’s permission and minimal questions asked - and the photos.”

She goes quiet after saying that, not really keen on making eye contact for the moment. Killian takes the opportunity to gather the words he wants to say, trying to find the best order of questions and statements.

“You know that none of this is your fault, right? Nor do I blame you or feel any differently towards you because of your past.”

Emma sniffs at that, a half-hearted attempt at acknowledgement, so Killian leans closer and turns her face to his so he can plant a kiss on her lips.

“I mean it, Emma. This is on that wanker, not you at all.”

Her lips thin out for a second, but ultimately she nods and leans forward to give him another kiss.

“Now, will you tell me about how you found this all out?”

“I got an email while Belle and I were working on our little project. I figured it was spam at first but it just had this link to a website called ‘Banging U.S.A.’ and some instructions for a passcode and a state. When I clicked, there was a whole lot more of me than I expected to see. He must’ve been taking pictures through the whole thing, since not all of them were ones he printed and showed me later.”

“So some taken without your knowledge or consent? How much worse can this guy get?”

“Oh, it still gets worse. I tried not to click on anything else, but I ended up on the newly launched world edition,” she says with quotes around the words. “Without really thinking, I clicked on this little British flag and there was the woman I found him with. She was clearly far more into the photography thing than I was.”

“Bad, but how is that worse?”

“In the first three pictures, you can see one of my t-shirts on the dresser. In the others, it’s gone. Which means he went right back to fucking her as soon as I left his place with my stuff.”

“Definitely worse,” Killain mutters, drawing his hand over his face in disbelief.

“And we all had subtitles. Hers was the Wicked Witch of the West… and my South Pole.”

“Ouch.”

“Mine was Officer Tie-Me-Down and Fuck-Me-Up.”

“Bloody hell, Swan, how much villainy can one man possess?”

“Apparently, his cup runneth over.”

“Clearly.” They fall silent for a moment, until Emma’s head tilts over to rest on his shoulder. “Any idea what you’ll do about it?” he asks after letting her mull for a moment.

“No fucking clue.”

He shifts in order to kiss the top of her head, pulling her closer when she pushes her way under his arm. It’s still hours more before either of them fall asleep again.

-x- December 14: Saturday

When Killian wakes up again, it’s to the sound of Emma’s voice floating up from down below.

“I know, and I’m sorry for bailing without letting you know,” she says. “I had something come up.”

With much effort, Killian hauls himself out of the bed, pulling on his undershirt before making his way downstairs.

“No, it’s kind of why I was calling, though. Do you still have that phone number for James?”

Whatever response David must have for that is lengthy and aggravating, judging by the look on Emma’s face when Killian makes it to the main floor. She looks up and gives him a wan smile, pulling the phone away from her ear long enough to lean up and give him a kiss on the cheek. Dave’s voice is, indeed, squawking out quite the storm from the earpiece, and Killian does nothing more than raise an eyebrow in question before giving her a kiss of his own and moving towards the coffee pot.

“Well, when you calm down about that, give me a call back. I need his number and you’ll agree with me when I tell you why.”

Her phone clatters to the table but she’s already moving towards where Killian is standing against the kitchen counter.

“Good morning,” she says, leaning up and pulling him down to give him a much warmer, much more thorough kiss.

“Same to you. Feeling a little better?”

“More like a fire’s been lit under my ass and I have a plan. I have to swing by my brother’s place to harass him about our other asshole brother. Want me to drop you at home?”

“If it wouldn’t be too much trouble, I need to head to the office to finish up the last of the preparations and my notes for the party on Friday.”

“No trouble at all. Wanna get breakfast along the way?”

“Food and time with my girlfriend? Only a fool would refuse such blessings.”

When they part ways, he’s amazed at the clear change in mindset she’s gone through in less than twelve hours. Even as she kisses him goodbye, there’s determination burning in her eyes.

-x-

It takes roughly forty minutes of needling David before he finally caves and gives her the phone number James had called from once, on accident, a couple years ago. She’s plugging it into her phone and hitting ‘call’ before she’s even halfway out of David’s workshop, taking the steps two at a time to get to the first floor.

“Don’t hang up,” Emma says as soon as James answers.

“Emma?”

“You mean you actually have my number saved in your phone?”

“I’m sure that’s surprising but yeah, makes it easier to call you if I need to ask for money.”

“Ah, you haven’t changed a bit,” Emma responds, rolling her eyes at his words.

David reaches for the phone when he gets to the kitchen but Emma bats his hand away.

“I’m guessing you’re the one that needs something if you’re calling me.”

“You’re still in Boston, right?”

“And what if I am?”

“You still have that fancy talent at hacking computers and websites?”

“Listen, I haven’t done anything wrong. I stopped doing all that ages ago.”

“I don’t care if you’re a law-abiding citizen,” Emma snaps. “I need someone who doesn’t care about the law.”

“So the wonder twins need my help because I don’t follow the rules?”

“Pretty much. I have an ex that needs to be taught a lesson.”

“Fine. Come down here next Friday and I’ll see what I can do. If you’ll do something for me,” he adds at the very end.

“Like what?”

“We’ll discuss my terms on Friday.”

“I have a party…”

“Oh? You have a party?” His tone is mocking, and Emma swallows back the retort she wants to spit at him.

“Fine. Fine. I’ll be there. David is coming with me. You do the job, I’ll repay you however you want me to, and then I never have to see you again.”

“Sounds good to me,” James singsongs. “I’ll text you the address. See you Friday, little sis.”

“That guy’s the worst,” Emma snaps when the call ends. “How is he your fucking twin?”

David just shrugs. “And this is why I didn’t want you to call him. Are you going to tell me what’s going on now?”

“You have to promise you aren’t going to have a coronary or something, okay?”

“Go for it. I will… do my best.”

She takes a deep breath before she urges him to sit down while she starts to tell him what she’s just found out.

To give him some credit, he doesn’t completely lose it. But he does turn an interesting shade of purple at the news that there’s a website that has pornographic photographs of his sister. Trying to get around those words is possibly the most mortifying thing she’s ever been through, until David opens his mouth when she’s done speaking.

“Has Killian seen this site?”

“God, David. No. And he won’t if I have anything to do with it. I’m not going to show my boyfriend pictures of me fucking another guy,” she screeches, standing and stomping over to their coffeemaker to indulge in more caffeine.

She doesn’t really want to tell James the same news. She doesn’t want to tell him more than she absolutely has to, but she also needs the skillset he picked up from being a generally bad person in order to get this chapter of her life wiped from existence.

Unfortunately, it’s going to mean missing the one thing she was looking forward to since Killian first told her about it.

She stops by his office to see him next, admiring the way he looks when he’s deeply concentrating. She can also see just how much he’s put into decorating his office in the time they’ve been together. She remembers stark walls and an empty desk. Now, his degrees are hanging, along with a few artistic prints of book covers. His desk is similarly fuller, with picture frames and small knick knacks beyond the single one that used to be there.

With one more bracing breath, she prepares to go in. He’s going to understand, because he already knows what’s going on, but she hates to disappoint him.

“Swan?”

She’s knocked from her idle watching by him softly saying her name.

“Everything all right?”

“Yeah,” she says, walking in and shutting the door. She moves around to lean on the edge of his desk right in front of him. “But I have some bad news. I can’t come to the debut on Friday. That’s when my creep-o brother can help me out. I’ll have to be in Boston.”

His face falls, the disappointment clear, but his hand reaches out and brushes along hers. “As much as I’m sad you won’t be with me, I know it’s for a bigger purpose. Is this evil twin in law? Law enforcement?”

Emma’s face freezes, realizing that she never shared with him how she planned on having James help her.

“Okay, long story short? James is really good at being a bad guy.”

To his credit, Killian listens with full attention as she launches into her plan and doesn’t even call her crazy.

“Barring any legal repercussions from this Walsh, I find no fault in this plan.”

“I’m pretty sure with James’ help, I won’t have to worry about him trying to come back at us.” At her reassurances, Killian nods in what she hopes is approval. “Should I let you get back to work?”

Slowly, he eases her off the desk and into his lap. “Maybe in a moment or two?”

It’s a question, leaving the answer in her court.

“I’d be happy if it goes a little longer than a moment,” Emma responds, settling herself fully into his lap and chuckling at the look in his eyes. She pulls her shirt over her head, reaching behind her to unhook her bra.

“I like to think we’re making up for all those times we’ve been interrupted,” Killian says before sucking a nipple into his mouth.

Straight to the point. She’s glad she locked the door when she closed it.

-x-

Chapter 8

#cs ff #cs ff au #captain swan #captain swan ff #csrt #sarah writes ff

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