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eirian-houpe · 3 years

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Modern Wonders - Chapter 3

Fandom: Once Upon a Time (TV), Alice (TV 2009)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Relationships: Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold

Characters: Belle (Once Upon a Time), Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold, Mad Hatter | Jefferson, Jiminy Cricket | Archie Hopper, Evil Queen | Regina Mills, Snow White | Mary Margaret Blanchard, Prince Charming | David Nolan, Red Riding Hood | Ruby, Grumpy | Leroy, Hatter (Alice TV 2009), Dodo (Alice TV 2009), Queen of Hearts (Alice TV 2009), Carpenter (Alice TV 2009), Mad March (Alice TV 2009), The White Rabbit | Agent White (Alice TV 2009), Doormouse (Alice TV 2009), Widow Lucas | Granny, Captain Hook | Killian Jones, Henry Mills (Once Upon a Time)

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - In Storybrooke | Cursed (Once Upon a Time), Wonderland, Drug Use, Recreational Drug Use, Pining, UST, Violence, Psychological Torture, Torture, Exploitation, Revenge, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Reconciliation

Summary: Revenge, they say, is a dish best served cold, and when Regina casts Rumple's Dark Curse, just a few words here and there creates Storybrooke in a very different place, with a very different atmosphere, and very different issues to deal with. Alliances and enmity permeate the lives of the citizens of Storybrooke, (and beyond), as they tiptoe around the various dangers they face every day. Who is awake? How can they break the curse within a curse? And what of the power struggles rife both within, and outside of Storybrooke itself.

Read previous chapters on AO3

Chapter 3 - Find Him

After retrieving his coat and his hat from their respective hiding places, Jefferson led Belle at breakneck speed - quite literally if she were to misstep and plunge the several storeys to the ground below - along the narrow ledges, twists and turns, and with far too many close calls for Belle’s taste, until they arrived on a narrow, crumbling shelf that served as a pathway to many identical, gray doors in the side of the wall.

Belle hugged the filthy stucco as Jefferson strode with clear determination toward one of the doors, and knocked fiercely. A moment passed, and nothing happened, so he knocked again, this time with the side of his hand, and this time he was rewarded by the sliding back of a narrow panel in the metal of the door.

“I’m returning a library book,” Jefferson said to the mouth and chin that was all that Belle could see. “It’s a work of Edwin and Morcar.”

“How does the little crocodile improve his shining tail?” the mouth recited, causing Jefferson to raise his eyes skyward before running a hand through his hair.

“He pours water of the Nile on every golden scale,” he answered, followed by an irritable, impatient demand. “Come on, it’s damn cold out here.”

Belle listened as the sound of a bolt being drawn aside could be heard in the echoing space between the two buildings, and then the door was opened, and the old man, whose mouth she had seen through the door’s peephole, shuffled away with an equally irritable, “Come on, be quick.”

It was only as Jefferson drew her away from the wall and eased her through the doorway, that she realized it was not into a room beyond, but into the unadorned, steel belly of a single decker bus. She swiveled her head this way and that, her mouth slightly agape, as she took everything in.

“Hello, Doc,” Jefferson said, softly affectionate.

“It’s been a while, Hatter,” Doc answered, “At least since we saw you and not the other.”

Belle thought she heard a low growl come from Jefferson’s throat, before the squeak and thunk of the closing door cut off the sound. Doc pulled another lever, and Belle, then, let out a squeak of her own as the bus began to descend, floor by floor, as if it were an elevator, so rapidly that, unbalanced, Belle fell back into the seat behind her, and clung to the back of the seat, and pole in front of her.

“It’s all right,” Jefferson told her quietly.

The lights in the bus flickered and danced as they descended further and further until, with a loud thump, the bus came to a halt, and through the windows, Belle could see the inside - not the outside - as she should have seen from the arrangement of the buildings and the bus.

She got to her feet, and moved to Jefferson’s side as Doc opened the door, only to reveal, beyond, the bespectacled woman, who was pointing a sawn-off shotgun in their direction.

“Seriously?” Jefferson protested, and then Belle felt Doc give her a hard shove from behind, and from the way he lurched forwards, must have done the same to Jefferson. “Oh, come on! You know me.”

“We have our orders,” Doc said, and gave them both another shove for good measure, sending them toward the ornately carved railing of the balcony on which they stood.

“Keep both those hands away from the hat and where we can see them!”

Belle heard the soft hiss of a curse come from Jefferson’s lips at the command, before he said, “It’s just a hat.”

“Right,” the woman who had been the speaker of the command mocked, then said, “We’ve both seen what you can do with that hat.”

Jefferson turned then, as did Belle, to face the woman with the gun. “Did you like the box of comforts I brought you guys the last time I came? The cured meats, and the cheese… exotic sweets wrapped in chocolate?”

“They’re all gone,” Doc said mournfully, and Jefferson tsked.

“Such a shame,” he replied. “Hatter can’t bring nice things if Hatter isn’t shown just a little bit of appreciation and respect.”

The tension hung in the air for a breath longer than Belle could stand, before the woman with the gun lowered it, sighed, and began to move away.

“Sorry, Hatter,” she said, “Everyone’s just a little jumpy.”

Jefferson sighed again, as he took Belle’s arm and began to lead her around the balcony away from the bus-elevator, and he muttered, “Everyone’s always a little jumpy.” He took his hat from his head, and carried it carefully in a hand that she thought was angled just so… that if the need arose, he could throw it like a frisbee.

She frowned and wondered at that, and that the woman was clearly suspicious of the hat. She’d said as much. Just what could Jefferson do with his hat? She stumbled slightly, having fallen behind, and felt Jefferson’s fingers tighten around her arm enough that she thought it would leave a bruise.

“Where are we?” she asked, unsettled and feeling a sudden pull at her belly, a profoundly uncomfortable feeling buzzing through all of her nerves, sharpening as he answered.

“The Great Library.”

Belle looked down over the railing and gasped as she saw the many mountains of unevenly stacked books. Piles that looked precarious, as though they would fall on the few figures that moved about beneath them at the merest breath.

Breath… she remembered taking a breath… and the whispers, whispers all around her…

“she’s awake…”

She pushed herself up, first on her elbows, and then to a full sitting position, and looked around at the slowly gathering crowd, and then upwards, to the walkway - a second floor hallway of some sort - that encircled the hall in which she, and the books, and the myriad other unfortunate and dourly clad people that were creeping closer to her by the breath, were housed.

“Hello?” she said after a moment or two, and as her voice broke in on the hushed whispering the slowly approaching people reversed their course and then froze several feet away. “Hello…? Hello, please, I won’t hurt you.”

For a long time nobody moved. It seemed like nobody dared, until, eventually, a tiny figure - little more than what her mother would have called a ‘slip of a girl’ - pushed forward, evading the grasp of any and all the adults that tried to stop her, and came to kneel an arm’s reach away from where Belle still sat.

“Are you…?” the girl said slowly, and then appeared to change her mind and instead told her, “They said you’d never wake up.”

“Grace,” she whispered, and Jefferson stopped dead, and spun on the spot to face her, reaching out to grasp her by both arms and draw her up toward him.

“What do you know about my Grace!” he demanded. “What do you remember?”

“Jefferson, you’re hurting me,” Belle said.

“Tell me!” he all but shook her, his eyes wild with pain and panic… anger.

“I… I can’t,” she pushed at his chest. “I can’t… I don’t… It was just then, as we came around the corner and I saw the books…”

Jefferson stopped, blinked as if he realized what he was doing to her and let her go, eased her away and then reached out to smooth the sleeves of the blouse she was wearing.

“Sorry,” he ran his fingers through his hair, and looked ashamed at his outburst, “Sorry, I just…”

“Who’s Grace?” she asked softly, looking down at Jefferson as he tumbled to sitting, his back against the balcony railings. Following behind, Doc and the woman with the gun stopped too, looking about nervously, and with clear embarrassment at Jefferson’s outburst.

“My daughter,” he answered, and he gripped the brim of his hat so tightly, Belle worried that it was going to rip. “She’s here, but I can’t reach her…”

“Here where here?” Belle looked around them, as she crouched beside Jefferson, as if she thought the girl would come walking out of nowhere.

“Storybrooke,” Jefferson whispered, a whine on the edge of his words. “New Storybrooke.” He looked up at Belle then, “She doesn’t know I exist, and I can’t get in, and…” he took a shuddering breath. “She’s all I have. Please, Belle, I need your help.”

“Of course,” She knelt beside his outstretched, long legs, and reached to squeeze his shoulder, feeling a little awkward, but somehow feeling a sense of familiarity in his emotion and heartbreak. “Just tell me what I need to do.”

“There’s a man,” he said, appearing much calmer now, at her words. “His name is Mister Gold. These people,” he gestured around them, indicating the nebulous ‘people’ who no doubt he had brought her to meet, “they can get you to Storybrooke. Find him. All you have to do is tell him where you’ve been - at the Happy Hearts Casino,” he added just as she was about to ask where it was that she had been, “and that was where Regina’s curse locked you up.”

“Wait a minute,” Belle frowned and shook her head. This talk of casinos and curses, and the strangeness of everything, including the thoughts that kept intruding on her mind that somehow she’d been here before, though she knew she hadn’t - she would remember some place like this - confusing and troubling her. It made her feel uncomfortable and afraid. “What?”

“It’s very important,” Jefferson told her, and he took her hand from his shoulder, and squeezed her fingers, his expression imploring. “Mister Gold will protect you, but you have to tell him that Regina locked you up. He’s gonna know what to do. You understand?”

She shook her head, looking up at him as he pulled himself, with what looked like a great deal of effort, to his feet, but said, “Y-yes, I— I have to find Mister Gold.”

Jefferson nodded, and still holding her hand he began marching along the balcony again, “There’s thousands of years of history hidden here,” he told her. “Art… literature… lore - all of it rescued and hidden here when the Queen of Hearts seized power.” He sighed, and paused to lean on the balcony rail to look down on the hive of industry that was below them. Belle joined him. Without turning to face her he said, “She’d like nothing more than to burn it all to ashes.”

“Who’s the Queen of Hearts?” Belle asked, then cringed back against Jefferson as the woman with the gun suddenly raised it again, pointing straight at her head.

“She doesn’t know the Queen? Who the hell is she?”

“Would you just relax,” Jefferson said, pushing Belle behind him as he turned from the rail, and reached out to close a hand around the end of the gun barrel, pushing it downward. “Calm down. She’s just led a very sheltered life, that’s all.”

It seemed that Doc was not for believing. “Back to the elevator, both of you!”

“And keep those hands where we can see them,” the woman added, as Jefferson reached into his pocket and pulled out two glass vials, each with a glowing pink liquid in the bottom.

“Now, you wouldn’t want me to risk dropping these, would you?”

Belle watched, astounded as he began to juggle with them, just enough to send them both into the air, to come down into the belly of his hat. Both Doc and the woman whimpered, and stepped closer to the Hatter, who rolled the hat up along his arm and onto his head. There was no sound of a clink, as Belle expected there would be.

“Was that a bribe,” the woman, the first to recover, asked.

“No,” Jefferson look shocked and exaggerated the sound of his outrage. “I would never.”

“Hatter!” Doc warned.

Jefferson’s face split into an almost embarrassed smile so wide that, beneath his hat, it lifted his styled hair, his eyebrows too. “All right, you caught me, but… not a bribe… two,” he said. “You should never make a decision when you’re feeling low.”

He shrugged his shoulders, and from beneath the cuffs of his jacket, the two bottles slipped, one into each hand, and Belle caught the word, ‘bliss’ on the label of each bottle. He held his hands, palms up with the bottles resting there, one to each; to the woman and to Doc.

“You better be on the level, Hatter, or you won’t make it out of here alive… this time,” Doc warned, but he and the woman both lunged almost ravenously toward Jefferson, to take the bottles and cradle them as if they were the most precious things in the world, against their chests for a moment before they turned, and began to lead the way again.

“These are the people who are going to help me find Mister Gold?” Belle asked, incredulously, “Who are they anyway?” Belle stopped again, looking down on the mounds of books, and the people working away in the library’s heart. “And who are all those poor people.”

Jefferson turned to lean on the balcony rail again and sighed, “Refugees,” he said simply, then after a pause elaborated, “Those who don’t want to be a part of the Queen’s world of instant gratification. Here we give them shelter, try to feed them the best we can, but, it’s dangerous. If we were discovered, we wouldn’t stand a chance. This…” another sigh, as he pushed away from rail. “This is the resistance.”

He turned, and started walking swiftly further along the balcony, leaving Belle staring down into the gray world below, before she realized he’d gone, and then began to hurry to catch up as he called back, “Come on!” He paused mid stride to give her a better chance to catch up. “We have to see a man about a… a dog.”

#Rumbelle #au #cursed storybrooke #wonderland #drug use #recreational drug use #pining #ust #violence #psychological torture #torture #exploitation #revenge #Eventual romance #eventual smut #reconciliation

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shireness-says · 4 years

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Wherever You’re Going (I’m Going Your Way) [5/6]

Summary: 1952. A lost boy without a home, Killian Jones rides America’s back roads on his motorcycle, searching for a purpose that’s just out of reach. This pit stop was only supposed to be a few days, a couple of weeks at most, but a pretty blonde waitress just might be his salvation. Is he brave enough to let her? Rated T for language. ~4.0K. Also on AO3. Ch. 1 Ch. 2 Ch. 3 Ch. 4

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A/N: Last chapter of plot - next week is an epilogue. Thanks for reading - let me know what you think!

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The days to come are a kind of blissful in-between: after the date and the kiss that changes everything, but before Killian’s tires have arrived and he’s back on the road again. The days are simultaneously too short and wonderfully long, the days too few and yet seemingly endless as Killian savors every moment together that he can. He makes a point to spend as much time with Emma as he can, knowing that their time will be far too short, taking her for ice cream and evening strolls and even letting Emma drag him down to the local bar and dance hall. He’d tensed as she’d pulled him onto the dance floor, far too aware of the many eyes around him — he’s far too aware that others think he’s trouble, and can only imagine what they think to see him arm in arm with the local golden girl — but the other townsfolk never show it. He thinks he might even see a few smiles among them, though that seems like it could be too much to ask for. As happy as he is to take Emma on the kind of dates she deserves, dancing and the like, he truthfully takes just as much pleasure in simply keeping her company during her late shifts at the diner, sitting in what is now his usual booth and flashing a smile just for her. There’s a gentle intimacy to this, being allowed to watch Emma in her own environment.

Still. As much he tries to revel in the moment, the future looms just ahead.

“I don’t know what to do, Belle,” Killian groans as softly as he can manage into the phone. Granny’s back hallway probably isn’t the best place for this conversation, but it begs having, and Killian isn’t willing to drive up David Nolan’s long distance bill. The downside of the public pay phone is that it’s not exactly private; other customers pass periodically, searching for the bathrooms or winding their way back through to the attached inn. It’s odd to even think, and Killian isn’t sure how it truly happened, but he seems to have earned some level of acceptance amongst the locals, just by virtue of becoming a regular face at the garage and at Granny’s in the last handful of weeks. Most even nod a greeting, or offer him a brief smile. It’s jarring, in the most pleasant way, to be met with a kind of amiable neutrality after growing so accustomed to distrust everywhere he goes.

That’s the benefit of staying in one place, he supposes: people come to know you, even just a little bit, even just enough to grow used to you and start to trust you. Those could be the seeds of a more settled life, if he wanted.

But that’s the whole problem — Killian isn’t sure he’s ready for that. Which brings him to this moment and this phone call, because it’s been nearly three weeks, and they’re expecting the replacement tires any day now, and Killian has a decision to make. Three weeks ago, there’d been no question — he’d be gone as soon as the tools were put down. Three weeks ago, however, he hadn’t yet met Emma — and Emma just might change everything.

The truth of the matter is that these last days with Emma have been the happiest that he’s lived in a long, long time, and he likes to think he makes her happy too. Her smiles and laughter and the way she chases after him for just one more kiss would suggest that to be the case. They went into this with open eyes, both knowing that whatever they became was subject to a ticking clock, but Killian still pauses when he thinks of leaving her behind. She deserves more than that; they both do.

At the same time, staying still isn’t an option. Killian’s great cross-country trek has, more than anything, been a search for a sense of self, a sense of purpose; finding someplace to call home is a far distant third on his list of concerns. Ghosts still haunt him, and though he knows the wind on his motorcycle can’t permanently blow them away, it helps. It’s nice to just not think for a few minutes. Even hours, if he’s lucky.

(Then again, kissing Emma achieves much the same effect, in a much more pleasurable fashion.)

“I can’t stay. I really… I don’t think I can stay,” Killian continues. “But how can I leave, either? What if I’m throwing away my one real chance to settle down, and be happy like that?”

“But is that really true happiness, convincing yourself into something because it’s the smart or honorable thing to do?” Belle asks. “Or is that just a compromise?”

Killian stays silent, letting her words run through his head. This is why he called Belle in the first place: she has a way of pointing out the real questions he needs to ask himself without any judgement or demands.

“You don’t need to have an answer now, and you don’t have to tell me when you do,” Belle continues, “but if you’re as taken with this girl as you tell me, it’s not fair to her if you stick around but constantly dream of leaving again. She doesn’t deserve that.”

“No, she doesn’t.” Killian can hear the soft tenderness in his own voice; no doubt Belle can as well. “And that’s the biggest reason I can’t stay. She deserves more than a man who would always wonder what he gave up. It’s not just places I want to see either, Belle. It’s… at the risk of sounding like some terrible cliche, I’ve felt like a shell of myself for a long time. The words shouldn’t be me, but they were an important part, and I lost them. Flying down the highway, seeing all the wonders this blasted place has to offer… that’s the only time it feels like the words might be in my reach again. I deserve the chance to figure out who I am after all this, even as Emma doesn’t deserve a man who will otherwise always be a little bit empty.” Killian sighs. “That doesn’t make it any easier to think about leaving her behind.”

“You could always ask her to come with.”

Killian’s heart leaps in excitement at the very idea, but he quickly forces reason to tamp it down. “I couldn’t possibly.”

“Whyever not? I thought you said she had a bit of wanderlust herself.”

“Yes, but…” Killian struggles for an answer, feeling like his brain is tripping over itself. “Storybrooke is her home. She’s got a family here, people who love her and would miss her. I can’t take her away from all of that.”

“Maybe that’s a decision she gets to make,” Belle replies gently. “Maybe she’ll surprise you. Maybe she wants the same thing, a chance to see what else is out there. You won’t know unless you ask.”

“Maybe.” Even as Killian says it, he knows that it’s a dream too big. He’ll never risk it — and Belle probably knows that too.

“It’s up to you, Killian,” she concludes, “but think about what’s best for you, now and later, okay? You deserve to be happy just as much as she does.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Once Killian hangs up the payphone, he fights the urge to slide down the wall into a crumpled heap. Even after his talk with Belle, there’s still no good answers.

He’s got a lot to think about.

———

As long as Killian doesn’t think too closely about their looming, unknown deadline, he can luxuriate in the sheer quiet joy of spending time with Emma. It’s easy to get used to her kisses and easy affection and the way that she has a special smile just for him when he walks into the diner. It’s a beautiful respite he didn’t know he needed and is certain he doesn’t deserve.

But far too often and too quickly, good things must end.

The new tire arrives on Thursday. Killian does his utter best to ignore it. As eager as he was to get in and get out of this little nowhere town three weeks ago, that’s all changed because of Emma. The itch under his skin is as strong as ever — the desire to blow all the dreams and pain away upon the winds — but his attachment to Emma, though new and young, is deep. She’s a balm to all his lingering wounds, a bright spot in his days that he never thought he’d find again, and the idea of leaving her is near unbearable, even if the idea of staying is just as suffocating.

There’s only so long he can pretend to work off a debt he’s long since paid, though, and while David will never say anything, Killian sees the confused looks that the other man sends his way each day those tires continue to sit on a shelf.

“You know, you don’t have to leave if you don’t want to,” David mentions with an affected air of casualness as he works on the undercarriage of someone’s truck. Killian has been drafted to assist — though it seems to be just an excuse to trap him into conversation, considering that the only way he’s been helping is to hand over tools that David could just roll out and retrieve himself.

Killian braces himself against the truck’s bed, sighing heavily. He can’t help the exhalation; inside his head, all of Killian’s different desires war with each other — to stay with Emma, to leave for her own good, to leave for his own good. Underneath it all, though, is that same itch that’s driven him forward ever since he landed in this country, and it only grows stronger every day.

Staying was never really an option — not when he still needs wind whipping past his face to ground him every day.

“I know. But I can’t,” he finally replies, head bowed in a pointless instinct to hide his gaze from a man already obscured.

David rolls himself back out to the light. “Why not? Has anyone made you think you couldn’t? Besides Graham, I mean, and that really was just a misunderstanding —”

“No, it’s not that. I’ll have to disagree about the sheriff’s intentions, but you’ve all been… wonderful. You, and Mrs. Nolan, and… Emma.” Killian stutters for a moment over her name; though they both knew going in that this wouldn’t end in anything lasting, it had been easy to forget that in a week and a half of bliss, and she’s the one who stands to hurt the most. Still, he must press on. “Better than I deserve, really. And I know you’d welcome me with open arms should I choose to make your little hamlet home. But it’s… I’ve got this compulsion to keep moving. Chasing something, or running away from something, I don’t even know anymore. But one day… I hope I’ll figure it out, and that feeling will settle.”

David hums, taking the time to replace his tools. If Killian’s not mistaken, it’s a stalling tactic. “You know, Emma has this theory,” he finally says, “that home is the place that when you leave, you just miss it. She and Mary Margaret spent a week — not even a week in Portland shopping for wedding and household things. And that was it for her. She and Mary Margaret were still in this terrible little apartment, but I’ve never seen her happier to be there. Gave me the biggest hug when she saw me as I came to pick up Mary Margaret for a date.” David smiles fondly at the memory. “I suppose what I’m saying is… maybe it takes some distance to realize what you want. And we’ll always be happy to welcome you back, if you choose to return. You’ve got a job here if you decide that’s what you want.”

It’s a lot to offer him, Killian knows — more than he expected. This entire town and all the people in it — especially the Nolans, especially Emma — are all more than he ever expected. “Thank you,” he says softly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

David just nods before grabbing a different wrench and wheeling back under the body of the truck, but Killian thinks there’s an understanding there — that I can’t stay doesn’t mean not ever, just not now. There’s a time and a place for everything in life, and the place Killian’s at right now isn’t nearly settled enough for tranquil little Storybrooke.

He shouldn’t have counted on David keeping that information to himself, however. Half the reason he’d avoided the matter of the tire in the first place was his own uncertainty about how to broach the topic with Emma. She deserves to hear from him that he’s leaving again, but all attempts he makes to imagine that conversation feel inadequate — too flippant, too detached, too lame. Decidedly not what she deserves.

Trust his Swan, however, to bring it up all on her own.

“So,” she starts, arm linked through his as they walk down Main Street together, “what’s this I hear about a tire?”

Killian’s heart jumps into his throat; without even intending, he slows their pace to barely a shuffle. “So you heard about that, then.”

“David’s not great about keeping secrets from Mary Margaret, and Mary Margaret isn’t great about keeping secrets from… anyone, really.” Emma chuckles at her little quip, but it doesn’t hold the joy Killian’s grown accustomed to in the past weeks.

(God, when did he allow himself to become accustomed to that — or anything? He was never supposed to stay longer than a few weeks, and this only makes it harder.)

“I want to tell you, but…” Killian trails off. But what? He was scared? He was conflicted?

“It’s alright, Killian,” she smiles back, albeit weakly. “We always knew this was coming.” Emma gathers a deep breath as if to steel herself for what else she has to say. “So how much time do we have left, then? I know the road must be calling you again.”

But you are too, Killian doesn’t say.

“Two days,” he says instead. “Three at most. David and I got Mr. French’s delivery van settled today, so we’ll be able to put the bike back together tomorrow and I can hit the road the next day, or the one after.”

“That’s not much time,” Emma replies softly, looking down at their shuffling feet as if she can’t bear to meet his eyes.

“No.”

(You could always ask her to come with, whispers Belle’s voice in his head. He’s not nearly brave enough to listen to it.)

Killian feels Emma take a deep, strengthening breath before she lifts her gaze to meet his again. “Then we’d better make the most of it.”

———

The next evening, Killian takes Emma for a ride on the newly-functional motorcycle, trying the whole while not to think about how this feels like goodbye. He remembers how she’d asked, one of those first nights, flirting even though Killian couldn’t see it, didn’t want to see it. Emma had gasped in surprise and delight when Killian came to pick her up after her shift (an early one, today, that lets them take a little cruise as the sun sets before them), drawn out to the diner’s front windows by the putter of the engine.

“Are we going to go for a ride?” she practically demands. Not that Killian minds, as long as he gets to see the grin that splits her face from cheek to cheek.

“As far as you want,” he promises.

(It was only supposed to be a few days, a couple of weeks at most, but ask her to come with echoes louder and louder in his head with each passing hour.)

Killian helps Emma onto the bike as best he can while straddling the seat himself, but she doesn’t prove to need much assistance, still steady even as she swings a leg over the body. It takes some doing, but he manages to crane his body around far enough to press a lingering kiss to her lips.

(Not their last, not their last, his heart insists, but his brain still whirs in a panic of not enough time like another engine he’ll have to fix.)

“Are you ready, love?” he asks when they finally break apart. Emma nods enthusiastically. “Then hold on tight.”

It’s almost idyllic, cruising through Storybrooke’s back roads with Emma’s arms twined around his waist. She particularly seems to love the straight stretches of road where he can really test their speed. As the wind whips past their faces, Emma giggles and shrieks with glee behind him. Other women might have been nervous about the bike, or fretted about the number the wind will undoubtedly do to their hair, but not his Swan. It’s obvious she’s having the time of her life, and Killian feels grounded in a new way to feel her body perched behind his.

(Come with, come with, could come with…)

“God, I see why you love that so much,” she chuckles as they roll to a halt at the pier. Killian will never get back in the water, but there’s still something soothing about the endless horizon. “It’s exhilarating.”

And maybe it’s the joy in her voice, or the way she smiles as she swings off the bike again. More likely, it’s the result of the words that have been rattling around inside his skull ever since he talked to Belle. Whatever it is, it dissolves any filter between Killian’s brain and his mouth and the words come tumbling out before he can stop them. “You could come with me,” he blurts out in a rush, only to flush red as he realizes what he said. That was not remotely something he meant to say, but it’s out there in the world now, his heart dropped at her feet for her to pick up or kick aside.

Not that she’s done either, yet. Emma stands shocked and still in front of him, eyes wide like she can’t believe what she’s just heard. That’s a reasonable reaction; Killian certainly can’t believe that he just said it.

“What did you say?” she whispers.

“Nothing, Swan, don’t worry about it. I shouldn’t have said anything —”

“But you did,” Emma says, interrupting his backtracking. “Did you mean it?”

Killian sighs, sweeping his hand through his hair in yet another nervous tic. She probably knows all of them by now — the hand in the hair and the scratching behind his ear and all the rest of it. He’s a mess of a man, which makes him all the more certain that no matter what he might want, he can’t possibly deserve her. “Aye, I did,” he finally admits. “And I know it’s foolish, because I can’t possibly ask that of you, not when you’ve got a place like this to call home, with people who love you. Not when you’d have to put up with me. But it’s what I want.” He whispers it like a shameful secret. And maybe it is, a little bit — after all, he knows better than anyone that no matter how much he wants doesn’t mean it can ever happen.

“And why would you ever think that’s foolish?” Emma asks softly, stepping into his space to rest her hands on his shoulders.

“I mean —”

“I told you once that I wanted to be brave with you, and that it was my choice to make. I meant it then, and I mean it now, too.” As Emma pauses to stare into his eyes, Killian feels hope flutter in his chest, stronger and brighter than ever before, only to burst to glorious life as she finishes. “So ask me.”

It only takes a moment to swallow his nerves. “Come with me, Emma. Let me show you the world.”

Emma’s hands move to his face, stroking her thumbs along his cheeks to coax him into a smile to match her own. “Yes,” she says, softly, emphatically, lovingly.

And Killian finally allows his dreams to soar in flight.

———

Their goodbye is sad, even though Emma assures everyone that it’s not forever.

“I’ll be back, I promise,” she tells Mrs. Nolan, whose eyes brim with tears just waiting to fall. “We both will be.”

“I know that,” Mrs. Nolan insists. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t miss you! It won’t feel right, not seeing your face around town every day.”

“Promise me you’ll look after her,” David says quietly as Killian secures the saddlebags on the motorcycle. Emma has proved to travel light, just like him; she’d showed up with nothing more than a satchel, a tightly coiled bedroll, and a beaming smile. “Because Emma is special, and I don’t know what we’ll do if something happens to her. Or, more accurately, I don’t know what I’ll do to you if something happens to her,” he tries to joke, stretching a weak smile before falling back to something more serious. “She’s very precious to us — to all of us.”

“I know,” Killian replies, cracking a small smile as he watches Emma hug her friend. “She’s very precious to me, too. I promise that I’ll do everything in my power — everything and then some more — to watch over her and keep her safe.”

“Good.” David offers his hand to shake, and Killian grasps it firmly in return. Maybe it’s a sealing of the promise; maybe it’s a gesture of friendship; maybe it’s a little of both. Whatever the case, Killian feels something pass between himself and David: an understanding, almost a sort of peace.

Emma slides an arm around his waist, apparently done hugging and bidding farewell to her crowd of admirers. Killian could swear half the town turned up in front of the garage to send her off — Granny and Ruby, Sheriff Graham, Mrs. Nolan, and a whole slew of other people he only halfway recognizes. She’s obviously much loved; Killian could tell that even without David’s little speech.

“Ready to go?” she asks with a wide and happy smile. He’d understand if she was nervous, or scared, or sad, or anything else; that would be reasonable as she’s about to embark on a journey into the unknown with him. There’s only excitement in her gaze, however; it’s obvious she’s got a wanderer’s heart of her own.

“Whenever you are, love,” he smiles back.

It’s a matter of a moment to swing his leg over the body of the motorcycle and let Emma clamber on behind him with David’s help. As Killian starts the engine, the other man drops a kiss to Emma’s forehead that Killian pretends not to notice.

“Godspeed,” he murmurs, just loud enough for Killian to hear. “And you make sure to call and keep us posted, alright?” he concludes in a louder voice.

“Of course, dad.” Killian can practically hear her roll her eyes, but he can hear the fondness, too. In a last gesture, Emma leverages herself off of Killian’s shoulders to press a kiss on David’s cheek. “Love you.”

“I love you too.” Tears gleam at the corner of David’s eyes, but he plasters on a grin anyways. “Now go on, hit the road before the sun gets too hot!”

Killian doesn’t need to be told twice. In a flurry of waves from Emma and her crowd of well-wishers, they slowly cruise back down Main Street, picking up speed as it gives way to a country highway.

“Are you ready for an adventure, Swan?” he asks as she twines her arms tighter around his waist, craning his neck to meet her gaze.

“With you?” she smiles back. “Always.”

~~~~~

Tagging: @kmomof4, @aerica13, @thisonesatellite, @searchingwardrobes, @let-it-raines, @teamhook, @ohmightydevviepuu, @optomisticgirl, @winterbaby89, @spartanguard, @scientificapricot, @snowbellewells, @welllpthisishappening, @tiganasummertree, @captainswanbigbang, @snidgetsafan, @thejollyroger-writer, @profdanglaisstuff

#captain swan #cs ff #captain swan ff #csrt #Wherever You're Going (I'm Going Your Way)#50's au #my writing

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2-fast-2-curious · 5 years

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Hockey Players as Dog Breeds Part 3

Connor McDavid is a Golden Retriever

David Pastrnak is a Papillion

Jeff Skinner is a Samoyed

Josh Anderson is a Bedlington Terrier

Jujhar Khaira is a Bouvier des Flandres

Nolan Patrick is a Weimaraner

Pierre Luc Dubois is a Lagotto Romagnolo

Seth Jones is a Jack Russell Terrier

William Nylander is a Brussels Griffon

#connor mcdavid #david pastrnak #jeff skinner #josh anderson #jujhar khaira #nolan patrick #pierre luc dubois #seth jones #william nylander #hockey players as dog breeds

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ao3feed-swanqueen · 4 years

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Animus (Heart)

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2XfPwBo

by kahlen369

In this world, everyone has an animus form, or an animal form that essentially represents their innermost selves. Needless to say, there are plenty of stories and stereotypes about just what each animal is supposed to represent. Some of it might even be true.

In this world, as in most, Emma Swan and Regina Mills are a study in opposites: the Saviour and the Evil Queen, light and dark, a golden retriever and a black cat.

But what was it they said? Opposites attract, after all.

A collection of non-chronological stories set in this unique world

Words: 1954, Chapters: 2/?, Language: English

Fandoms: Once Upon a Time (TV)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/F, F/M, Gen

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Animal Transformation, Canon Compliant, Unless it's more fun not to be, Character Study, Ensemble Cast, Minor Character(s), Worldbuilding, Lore - Freeform, Fluff and Angst, Domestic Fluff, Family Feels, Swan-Mills-Charming Family (Once Upon a Time), Swan-Mills Family Fluff (Once Upon a Time)

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2XfPwBo

#IFTTT #ao3feed #fanfic #swan queen #ouat

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hecckyeah · 2 years

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hey mr charming you’ve got to stop being so stupid and smart and brave and stupid and loyal and stupid and perfect and stupid or i swear i’m gonna fall in love with you

#david nolan #prince charming #katie watches ouat #the golden retriever boy trope strikes again

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hookedonapirate · 5 years

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Summary: What happens when the high school principal’s son falls in love with the pastor’s daughter?

Hiding a relationship is hard, especially since Killian’s girlfriend is seventeen and not allowed to date until she’s thirty, it’s even harder to hide her pregnant belly. Can Killian save his relationship with Emma when her parents find out? Some miracles are worth fighting for no matter what. Especially when there’s a little hope involved and a whole lot of love.

Teen Pregnancy AU

Notes: Check out the lovely banner @itsfabianadocarmo made for me here. Thank you so much!

I wasn't going to post this until next week, but I'm so overwhelmed by the feedback and support, I wanted to thank you all by posting this early. There are some things that will go unanswered in this chapter, but I will switch to Emma's POV in the next chapter and cover those things then. The next chapter will also jump ahead a bit so we can move forward with the story.

If you haven't noticed the rating or were wondering about it, this story does include teen smut, including masturbation, so please be prepared for that, or to skip it if you're not comfortable with it. You'll know when it's coming (no pun intended).

Thank you all so much for giving the story a chance and sticking with it so far. I appreciate you more than you know!!!!

Rated: Mature

Catch up: Ch 1 I Ch 2 I Ch 3 I Ch 4

Also available: AO3 l FF.N

Chapter 5

Killian checks his reflection in the mirror for the hundredth time that morning, making sure his hair looks perfect, making sure his tie isn’t crooked. He’s never been to church before so he was worried about being underdressed. The church is casual, but his father always wears a suit and tie, so Killian had done the same.

“Killian, I’m leaving for church!” his father calls from downstairs.

Killian dashes out of his room so fast, he trips over his own feet and almost dives face-first onto the carpet, but catches himself at the door frame and runs downstairs once he recovers his balance. “Wait, I’m coming with you!” he announces as his father heads for the closet and pulls on his leather jacket. He eyes his son suspiciously as Killian reaches the bottom of the staircase, out of breath.

“You’re going to church with me?”

“Aye.” Killian slips his phone into his pocket as he reaches the door, hauling it open. He’s so nervous, he’s sweating under his dress shirt and blazer, so he knows he won’t have to worry about a jacket. “Ruby got the morning off, so she’s meeting me there.”

His father looks perplexed as he follows Killian into the garage and closes the door behind them, his keys jangling as he retrieves them from his pocket. They head toward his silver Bentley, which always makes Killian’s truck look pathetic in comparison. “And you and Ruby still aren’t a couple?”

Killian wrinkles his nose and shakes his head. “I don’t see her like that. Ruby’s like a sister to me.” It’s true, Ruby’s always been there for him as a friend, and they have this warped love-hate relationship, but he’s never had romantic feelings for her. Plus, she’s more into girls anyway.

“So the reason you’re suddenly going to church has nothing to do with a certain blonde, who’s the pastor’s daughter, does it? And Ruby isn't tagging along for moral support, is she?”

Killian’s face flushes as he hops into the passenger side. “Nope.”

His father climbs into the driver’s side and starts up the engine. “Uh-huh,” he mutters sarcastically.

The reason Killian’s going to church is that he’s not giving up on Emma, but he’s not about to tell his father that. He had argued with his friends until he was blue in the face, assuring them Emma was clear about her decision, but they made sure he would not give up on Emma. They had eventually convinced him into going to church when all he wanted to do was spend the morning in bed, sulking over her.

~*~

The church is packed when they arrive. There are enough people to make Killian feel crowded and claustrophobic, sweat trickling down his back. Now he remembers one reason why he doesn’t go to church, other than adults wanting to chat with him and ask him questions about school and graduation and the future that he’s already answered fifty times that morning.

The things he’d do for this woman.

Ruby is sitting next to him on his left side, his father on his right, hunched over the woman on his other side, chatting her up with a charming grin. Killian fights off a smirk. Now he knows why his father attends this church without fail. It looks like he has the same idea Killian does. Like father like son.

Killian is busy looking around for Emma in the front row of the large sanctuary when he feels a light nudge in his ribs. “Oi, what was that for?” he whispers, turning his head to scowl at Ruby.

She nods her head toward the stage and Killian follows her gaze to see Mr. Nolan, ceding to the choir as everyone stands from their pews. As a pianist plays in the corner and the choir begins the first hymn, Killian’s eyes are drawn to the gorgeous blonde standing in the front, wearing a wrap-around royal blue dress, her long golden hair cascading around her shoulders.

It’s Emma.

The musical arrangement is boring enough to put him to sleep, but a few minutes into the song, Emma sings solo and her voice fills the sanctuary through the microphone. It’s the most beautiful voice he’s ever heard in his life; she energizes the crowd with her words and her voice, and everyone’s raising their hands in worship and singing along.

He’s completely captivated by her, and he swears for just a second her eyes lock with his and her breath catches in her throat.

The pastor begins droning on again, but Killian is too busy watching Emma to listen to the sermon. She’s busy watching him too, their eyes connecting several times as she sits with the choir on stage.

They sing a few more times before the service ends, and each time Emma rises, Killian is enchanted by her voice and finds himself worshipping God too—something he never thought he’d do. But love is a funny thing. It makes you do things you never dreamt of doing.

Afterward, his father drags him over to the pastor and is forced into an awkward conversation with Mr. Nolan that he’s been dreading all morning as his father’s eyes wander over to the woman he sat next to and watches her leave.

“Killian, you made it. I’m glad you decided to join us,” David says, shaking Killian’s hand.

“Me too,” Mary Margaret chimes, wrapping Killian up in a hug.

Thankfully, David legitimately seems happy to see him and doesn’t mention the conversation they had the other night. In fact, he’s being extremely nice to Killian, which makes him suspicious. But maybe it’s because his wife is there or because Emma hasn’t attempted to go near Killian, and instead has disappeared from the sanctuary. Or maybe it's because they're at church and he wants to remain professional and levelheaded in front of all the churchgoers who look to him for advice and spiritual wisdom.

Brennan and the Nolans are engaged in boring conversation as Killian surreptitiously leaves and joins Ruby outside the sanctuary where people visit with each other while exchanging baked goods and gossip.

“She went upstairs,” Ruby mutters through a mouth full of blueberry muffin. She waves her head toward the staircase. “Go. I’ll be on the lookout for her father.”

Killian whispers a thank you in her ear as he passes.

She grins, licking muffin crumbs from her lips. “You’re welcome.”

Killian casually heads upstairs, drawing no attention as he searches around for Emma. The second floor is empty, so he makes his way toward the ladies’ room, and quietly knocks, hoping she’s in there and that she’s the only one.

When the door opens and Emma pokes her head out, a wave of relief washes over him. Her eyes widen in surprise when she sees him. “Killian, what are you doing?” she whispers. “My father will catch us together.”

“Can I come in, then? I just wanna talk, Emma.” His voice cracks and he swallows thickly, breathing out a shallow, “Please.”

Emma pokes her head out further and looks around to make sure there’s no one else around to see them. “Did anyone see you come up here?”

Killian shakes his head. “No.”

She steps back, opening the door to let him in. He sighs softly as Emma closes and locks it before turning around, crossing her arms. “What do you want, Killian?” she demands, her voice almost low enough to be a whisper.

“I told you, Emma, I want you,” he answers quickly, his eyes locked with hers. “Ever since you walked into my life, I haven't been able to stop thinking about you.” He can hear his words giving out under the weight of emotions he feels, but he doesn’t care. He needs to say this. “You're always in my head. My thoughts, my dreams,” he confesses, tearing down those walls of fear that surround him. “When I close my eyes, you’re all I see. When I open them, you’re all I see, even when you’re not really there. When I heard you singing on stage, you sounded so amazing and I know all I’m gonna hear now is your beautiful voice in my head.” I’m in love with you, Emma, he wants to say, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t want to scare her off, but his heart has clawed its way out of his chest much sooner than he’d preferred. “So, tell me, Emma, how am I supposed to just forget about you and walk away after one conversation with your father?” he asks, taking a step toward her, inhaling a shaky breath, inhaling her sweet, intoxicating perfume. “If you think an idle threat is all it takes to keep me away from you, then you’re wrong. So, I'm asking you again, will you go out with me?”

An insufferable silence fills the restroom, and she’s wide-eyed and speechless, unable to respond. But he needs her to respond. He needs to know what she's thinking. More than he needs oxygen to breathe.

She surges forward and grabs hold of his tie, their lips colliding so forceful, he almost stumbles backward. Instead, he growls and grabs her hips, lunging forward until her back hits the sink. He’s hit with relief and happiness and hope as she kisses the hell out of him without any sign of remorse. He loves how her lips feel against his, so soft and pliant, and wonders what her mouth tastes like. He slides his tongue across the seam of her lips, asking for entrance, and she parts her lips in silent invitation, their tongues frantically finding each other. He groans in her mouth and she eagerly swallows the sound, her hands moving to his face and cupping his cheeks. He slides a hand through her golden locks, itching to feel how soft her hair is, as he tilts his head to deepen the kiss. Her hair is so soft and silky and he loves how it feels on his fingertips.

He never wants to stop kissing her; she tastes so sweet and heavenly, like hot cocoa and cinnamon and everything he never knew he wanted or needed until now. He savors her flavor every time their tongues connect, their bodies fusing into one as they move in sync, enchanted by one another. He feels everything you’re supposed to feel when you kiss the right person. He feels sparks and sees fireworks, he feels dizzy, his mind is cloudy, and it feels like he’s enveloped in the finest piece of velvet, floating above the clouds. It feels like the ground has opened up, like the entire world has vanished and all that’s left is them. He’s caressing her cheek gently, affectionately as their tongues twist around one another, tasting and probing. The kiss is fierce, yet so good and pure it awakens a possessiveness he didn’t even know he had in him.

He scoops her up in his arms and lifts her up on the edge of the sink, never breaking the kiss as she spreads her legs for him and he gets comfortable in the cradle of her thighs. Heat surges through him and she helps him shove off his blazer, lest he burst into flames. Once the jacket is off and hits the floor, his arms instantly wrap around her and his chest is pressed to her breasts as she curls her arms around the back of his neck. Everything feels so right and perfect, yet so wrong at the same time.

They finally pull apart, uneven breaths dancing with each other, keeping them connected as she leans her forehead against his, adoration plastered all over her angelic features. “Killian, did you really used to go to church?” she asks in a shattered whisper.

His lips twist into a smirk as he nuzzles her nose with his. “Never stepped foot into a church until today,” he answers, his words completely wrecked as his thumb strokes her cheek. “How did you guess?”

Emma manages a strangled laugh. “You’re not a very good liar. And neither am I.” Her features grow serious as she licks her lips. “This will not end well for us, you know that right? My mother always says lying is useless, the truth always comes out. But that might be because she's incapable of keeping a secret,” she adds playfully.

He shrugs rather weakly, his entire body feeling the aftermath of their kiss. Once her tongue had connected with his, once he had a taste of her, all bets were off. “That’s a risk I’m willing to take. If you’ll take it with me?”

Emma nods, a smile creeping over her lips. “Yes. And yes, I'll go out with you… if my answer wasn’t obvious when I kissed you.”

Killian chuckles. “I figured as much.” He captures her lips again and kisses her deeply, his tongue plunging into her mouth, hands roaming her back, pressing her closer to him. A moan slips past her lips when his groin rubs against her panties, and he almost loses himself. Her moan is the most exquisite thing he’s ever heard, her body is the most lovely thing he’s ever held in his arms and her mouth is the most heavenly thing he’s ever tasted. He has to slow down and take deep breaths as they kiss. He has to control himself around her; he doesn’t want to fuck this up. So he just kisses her slowly. He kisses her until their lips are numb and swollen, until there’s no air left in their lungs, or rather until there’s a knock on the door, pulling them back down to reality.

“Crap,” she whispers as they reluctantly break apart.

He helps her down from the sink and they frantically work to straighten their hair and clothing, but when he glances at Emma, her face is all flushed and her lips are rosy red and swollen. Whoever’s on the other side of the door will know they’ve been making out.

“Guys, I know you’re in there. It’s just me.” The sound of Ruby’s voice through the door makes them sigh in relief.

Emma straightens her hair some more as she sluggishly walks to the door and cautiously pulls it open. Killian hides behind her, looking over her shoulder.

Ruby smirks when she sees the two of them, both completely wrecked and disheveled, before her eyes fall back to Emma. “I just wanted to let you know that your Dad’s looking for you. I told him you went to the restroom, but that was ten minutes ago.” She looks at Killian. “And I told your father you got bored, so you went for a walk.”

“Thanks, Rubes,” he says with an appreciative smile.

“No problem.” She grins from ear to ear, glancing between them. “So I take it you two made up?”

They both smile and blush, answering her question before they even say anything. Killian wraps his hand around Emma’s hip and kisses her cheek. “Is it that obvious?”

“As obvious as that ridiculous grin on your face,” she teases. She’s not helping with the blush in his cheeks. “Come on, Em, you should go downstairs before your dad comes up here searching for you.”

“Okay, we’ll be out in a minute,” Emma says.

“Okay, I’ll keep watch.”

“Thanks.”

“No problem,” Ruby says with a wink.

As Emma closes and locks the door, Killian looks down at himself and realizes he can’t leave just yet. “Emma, you should go first. I need a few minutes to… regroup.”

“After that kiss, I need some time to regroup too,” she laughs.

He clears his throat and scratches behind his ear. “Aye, but for me, it’s a little more obvious.”

She turns around and lifts a brow, eyeing him in confusion. “What do you mean? You look fine,” she reassures him, lifting her hands to straighten his tie. The way her warm breath fans his skin as she adjusts his tie and runs her hand down his chest does not help his situation in the least. She doesn’t understand what he means though, and he doesn’t know how to explain himself without being blunt.

“I have a hard-on, love,” he blurts out and watches as her eyes widen, her mouth parting slightly.

She peers down between them and sees the prominent bulge poking against his slacks, trying to break free. “Oh,” she replies, her voice unusually high-pitched as she lifts her eyes. She shakes her head and removes her hands from his chest. She blushes in embarrassment from not being able to figure out what he’d meant. “Of course. Sorry… I’ll just… I’ll leave.”

“I’m the one who should be sorry.” He flashes a bashful smile. “I got a little too excited while we were kissing.”

The smirk she offers him is so adorable, he wants to kiss her again, but he knows she has to go so they don’t get caught together. “I noticed, I guess I didn’t realize how excited you were,” she laughs.

“It’s okay,” he chuckles, lifting a hand to stroke her cheek. “Can I see you tomorrow before school?”

Emma nods and kisses him chastely on the lips. “Yeah, I’ll think of an excuse to leave early,” she says before pulling away.

He doesn’t want to let her go, and he feels the loss once she’s no longer in his reach. “Okay, I’ll text you when I get there and wait for you in the parking lot.”

“Okay. Bye, Killian.” She smiles back at him as she opens the door.

“Bye, love.”

She closes the door behind her and Killian turns around leaning against it, taking shallow breaths. His heart is pounding and he’s still unbearably hard. He tries to think of other things, like baseball and airplanes and how Emma’s father might murder him if he finds out Killian was making out with his daughter in the church restroom. But he can’t get Emma out of his head. The way she tastes, the way she felt in his arms, the softness of her lips. The softness of her touch. He’s completely enraptured by her and his lips still tingle from their kiss.

He looks down and curses himself. He’s still hard.

He turns around and locks the door before undoing his pants, knowing he won’t be able to settle down without taking matters into his own hands. He reaches into his pants and drags out his erection, taking himself in his hand, desire pounding through his veins. He feels instant relief as he pulls at the skin and strokes himself up and down, a groan tumbling from his lips as he tips his head back against the door and closes his eyes. This isn’t the first time he’s touched himself thinking of Emma. The first day he met her he had to relieve the tension he felt from that day. At least then he'd waited until he was in bed that night. He’s jerked himself off before, he’s a horny seventeen-year-old virgin, but he’s never jerked himself off while having an object of his desire to help push him over the edge. Tightening his grip, he swipes his thumb over the stickiness gathering at his tip.

He imagines being with Emma, flesh against flesh, bodies writhing and thrusting as they make love, her legs wrapped around him, their hands linked, fingers entwined. When he pictures Emma in his mind as they both give themselves to each other, he imagines her long golden hair spread around her, vivid green eyes twinkling in the darkness as her mouth falls open in pleasure. But not all of his thoughts about her are dirty. He sees beauty and light and intelligence when he thinks of her, he sees perfection in her smile and the kind of person she is. He sees a woman he wants to get to know and spend the rest of his life with; he sees someone he wants to give the world to.

“Emma,” he murmurs softly as the pleasure builds. He’s biting his bottom lip and increasing the speed of his hand, wondering what she’d feel like around him, wondering how tight and warm she’d feel. His heart is pounding and heat is swirling through him so fast it makes him dizzy.

After that mindblowing kiss, it doesn’t take long for him to reach his peak, and when he feels the familiar sensations and heat pulsating through him, he makes a dash for the sink and points the velvety tip away from him. He strokes himself fiercely, until pure bliss consumes him, until his muscles convulse, guttural groans crawling from his throat, until thick, warm cum is spurting out onto his hand and into the sink. He pumps out a few more streams of the white stickiness into the drain, his breaths labored as he tries to gather his wits. By the time he empties every ounce of release, his entire body is spent, his legs like rubber as he slumps and grips onto the sink for balance. He lets his eyes fall shut for a few minutes, lets his mind clear of fog.

When he’s able to find some sort of semblance and move his muscles again, he opens his eyes, retrieves some paper towels from the small wicker basket on the counter and cleans himself up.

“Fuck,” he whispers, his voice hoarse, his body still trembling from his orgasm.

He tosses the paper towel in the trashcan and tucks himself back into his pants before washing his hands. He splashes his face with some cool water, dries his hands and grabs his blazer from the floor, trying to process what he’s done before he leaves the restroom and has to explain to Ruby why he’s been in here by himself for so long.

He just jerked off in a church restroom thinking about the pastor’s daughter. The pastor’s daughter . Who he’s supposed to stay away from, and yet she’s the only reason why he showed up to church in the first place.

He’s so going to hell for this.

Tagging some people who have either shown interest or asked to be tagged.

@teamhook @onceuponaprincessworld @itsfabianadocarmo @followbatb @natzombeez@resident-of-storybrooke @kmomof4 @artistic-writer @ilovemesomekillianjones @jamif @darkcolinodonorgasm @nikkiemms @carpedzem @ashley-knightingale @tiganasummertree @ultraluckycatnd @its-about-bloody-time-cs @maquita @mariakov81 @bugheadswanjones @searchingwardrobes @andiirivera @melly326 @squidvisious @snow-into-ash @snowbellewells @kingofmyheart14 @biefaless @superchocovian @willow154

I’m probably missing some people, so let me know if you would like to be tagged or untagged.

#cs ff #captain swan #cs ff au #highschool au #set my soul on fire #smut #my fic

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awkwardnessandbaseball · 5 years

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Sorry for the delay, as I worked all day today, but here’s Chapter Two!!!

Once again, so many thanks to: @cspupstravaganza, @sherlockianwhovian, and @lassluna.

Tag list: @quirkykayleetam, @squidvisious, @carpedzem (Message me to be added!)

AO3 if that’s your jam: Prologue | Ch1 | Ch2 | Ch3 | Ch4 | Ch5 | Ch6 | Ch7

I’d Pick You (and Your Little Dog, Too)

A Captain Swan Pupstravaganza Story

Summary: According to everyone in the known universe, Emma Swan’s dog is supposed to lead her to her soulmate. But she’s not even sure if she wants that. Soulmates are pretty idealistic, don’t you think?

Chapter Two:

Within minutes of receiving the call, David and Emma hop in the official Storybrooke Police vehicle and make their way to the park, Rascal and Princess taking up residence in their assigned seats in the back of the SUV. It’s really a good thing that there’s hardly any arrests in Storybrooke, or they’d never be able to share the car. There are a few part-time deputies who fill in here and there, but mostly it’s just the Nolan siblings running the town.

“So the caller said these dogs aren’t letting anyone near them?” Emma asks as they drive. “Did she say if they were growling or trying to bite?”

“I think they’re just too fast, playing ‘catch me if you can.’” David tells her.

They park across the street from the large group that’s now formed near where the loose dogs must be. Most of the canine companions are sitting calmly, watching the display, but some of the more rowdy ones are barking or pulling on their leashes, trying to play or get a hold of the dogs without owners.

Emma glances at some of the less well-behaved dogs and lets herself feel a moment of pity for their owners, because those must be some loud, rowdy soulmates.

“Emma! David! Over here!” They look towards the voice and find Granny, Ruby’s grandmother and the owner of Granny’s Diner and the inn down the street. After their parents' deaths when Emma and David were fourteen, it had been Granny who’d taken them in, allowing them to stay together and finish out high school in Storybrooke.

Granny doesn’t have a dog of her own, and the rumors are endless when it comes to the reason why. Some people say she had one, but she let it loose or gave it away to someone else, not wanting to know who her soulmate was. Others say she was never matched with a dog, but fell in love anyway – otherwise, how would she have had Ruby’s mother? The most vicious rumor Emma had heard was that Granny stole someone else’s soulmate away, and that’s why she was never matched with a dog.

It’s all ridiculous. Granny runs the diner and feeds nearly the entire town – human and canine alike – so whoever started any of those rumors is just thankless and mean. Plus, most of the stories don’t even make any logical sense.

Emma and David run to meet her, Rascal and Princess right behind them. Granny gives each of the dogs a treat from her seemingly bottomless pockets, then turns to the sheriff and her deputy.

“There are two loose dogs here,” she tells them.

“Yeah, that’s… why we’re here. We got a call.” David looks around and then calls out, “Attention! Storybrooke Police! Please clear the area!”

The crowd parts like the Red Sea, allowing David and Emma to walk toward the main area of the park. There are two golden retrievers sitting calmly on the other side, right next to the lake.

“They haven’t let anyone near them,” Doctor Whale whispers to Emma, far too close to her for comfort. “The bigger one thinks it’s a game and runs away whenever we get close. The small one nearly took Mr. Gold’s hand off.”

“He probably deserved it,” Emma mumbles, earning a small chuckle from Whale. “Either way, we’ll take care of it.”

Emma and David look at each other and instantly Emma knows David’s plan. They split up, Emma to the right, David to the left. Princess creeps along beside her owner, crouching down to keep her impact on the ground minimal, while Rascal hobbles along behind Emma, careful not to get under her feet.

The two goldens sit completely still as Emma and David inch closer to them. Emma thinks they might actually have a chance at catching them without much difficulty when suddenly Rascal bursts forward and tackles the smaller golden. Emma is shocked – Rascal rarely shows any interest in other dogs – and nearly yells his name, but it’s stuck in her throat. He isn’t trying to hurt the golden. He’s trying to play with her.

Emma turns to David, who looks just as shocked as she feels, just in time to see Princess tilt her head. She gallops past David to see what Rascal is getting himself into. After realizing that there’s no room in this play session, she goes to see what the other golden retriever is up to. So far, he hasn’t moved. He’s sitting and watching everyone watch him, looking proud somehow. Emma’s pretty sure he’s smiling. Princess sits in front of him and they stare at each other for a moment.

And then Princess does something distinctly not Princess-like: she reaches up with one paw and bats the other dog on the head. The golden merely tilts his head at her, then jumps up and pins her down. Princess lets out a growl and flips the other dog over, surprising him.

David finally finds his voice and laughs before shouting a command at Princess.

“Stay!”

Princess shakes her head once and stays put, allowing David to approach the two dogs. Emma sees him realize that he doesn’t have a leash with him. Princess and Rascal generally don’t wear them at the station, and they’d been in such a rush when they left that they’d both forgotten.

Shit.

Emma watches as David struggles with where to go from here. She’s still poised, ready to follow his lead, but they’re both at a loss for what to do next. Rascal stops playing and looks towards Emma for some sort of guidance.

“Come, Rascal,” she says. And he does, with the small golden retriever following closely behind him. Princess follows suit, and sure enough, so does her playmate. The four dogs lead Emma and David back to their police car with a very confused crowd staring after them.

“What the hell just happened?” Emma asks David as they climb into the car. David is silent as he places the key in the ignition. He drives two blocks, then pulls over again, out of the sightline of the crowd back at the park.

“I’ve never seen Princess act like that,” he admits.

“Rascal has only ever played with Princess. And that one time with Wolf, but that ended badly,” Emma shudders at the memory. Rascal, unsocialized as he was, tried to play with Wolf and only ended up angering the over-sized husky. It had escalated quickly but Emma was able to break it up before any real damage was done. Both dogs had walked away with small scratches and a puncture or two, but nothing life-threatening.

David stares at Emma but she refuses to look at him. She knows what he’s thinking, but it’s impossible.

“Maybe these dogs—”

“They’re stray dogs, David.” The phrase feels strange on her tongue. Those two words don’t match up like ‘stray cats’ or ‘abandoned gerbils’. “They don’t belong to anyone.”

He continues to watch her, waiting for her to come to the same conclusion he’s reached. And she has. She knows exactly what this means, but she’s just not sure how.

“One could say that we—”

“We’re not strays. Orphans are not strays.” Tears are welling up and she swallows hard, trying to keep her emotions under control.

Once they turned 17 and had wanted a place of their own, Emma started waiting tables at the diner and David cleaned kennels at the vet. It wasn’t pretty or glamorous, but it got them a shabby apartment and food on the table - food that wasn’t deep-fried in the kitchen at Granny’s. It meant they could take care of Princess and Rascal when they came along.

For half their lives, Emma and David have been orphans. Even as an adult, Emma feels the absence of a parent in the same way she did when she was 14. She struggles sometimes to remember her mother’s voice or her father’s laugh, but David always helps her to remember. He’s dealt with the pain better than she has. She still feels like a lost orphan sometimes, and he often has to pick her back up and remind her of how much she really has in front of her.

“Emma.” David’s voice brings Emma back to the present, to the situation at hand and the four dogs in their backseat. “Those dogs wouldn’t come to anyone else, and then they just suddenly decide to follow Princess and Rascal and come back with us, no chasing or even leashing involved whatsoever?”

“I know what happened, David, I was there. But my original point still stands: the dogs were loose. No collars, no tags.”

David sighs in defeat and starts the car again. When they arrive back at the station, Princess and Rascal show their two new friends to their bed and the four of them curl up together in what Emma can only think of as a Cuddle Puddle.

It’s ridiculously cute and it’s making Emma’s heart ache.

Loathe as she is to admit it, these dogs very clearly belong to David and Emma’s soulmates. The problem is that they don’t seem to belong to anyone at all.

************

After the excitement of the morning, it’s a normal, quiet day at the station. Emma spends far too much time staring at the large pile of fur in the corner of the room. The light gold fur of Rascal’s new friend is reflecting in the small bit of sunlight that shines through the window.

I guess you’re meant to be me, Emma thinks to herself. It’s no wonder whatever human you’re attached to didn’t want you anymore.

She feels a strange hole in her heart, as though she’s missing something – or someone – that she’s never had to begin with. If this is what having a soulmate feels like, she wants absolutely no part of it.

Unfortunately, she doesn’t have much of a say in the matter.

She can tell David’s feeling the same phantom pains. He’s hunched over his desk, focusing too hard on the paperwork in front of him, his grip on the pen just a bit too tight.

“I’m going to get some early dinner at Granny’s. I’ll be back,” Emma announces, unable to sit in the quiet room anymore. “Do you want your usual?”

David looks up from the desk in surprise as though he’s forgotten she’s still in the room with him. He nods once and then goes back to whatever he’s working on.

Out on the street, with Rascal as her only company, Emma instantly feels better. Being away from the strange reminder that she does in fact have a soulmate, they’re just… what? missing?... clears her head, and the pain in her chest eases to a dull soreness.

“Did you find the owners?” Granny asks as soon as Emma steps foot in the door. Granny’s never been known for being subtle.

Emma shakes her head, fighting off the tears that inexplicably well up in her eyes at the thought of the poor dogs back at the station without any owners. She places her takeout order and sips a Coke at the counter while she waits.

“Afternoon, Mrs. Lucas,” comes a voice from the door. Rascal’s ears perk up and Emma turns her head. She’s never seen the man before – a rare occurrence in Storybrooke, and now it’s happened twice in one day. He’s scruffy, in a nice way, and has an attractive amount of chest hair peeking out from the top of his shirt. He smiles easily at Granny, but she scowls at him in return.

“I’ve told you, everyone calls me ‘Granny.’” She smiles, but it’s one of mocking. “Because I’m so kind and grandmotherly.”

“Of course, ma’am. Apologies.” The man continues to grin despite the older woman’s eye roll. He places an order and walks towards the seats at the counter.

Towards Emma.

She tries not to stare, really she does, but she rarely runs into people in this small, sleepy town that she doesn’t already know. Who is this man?

“No need to stare, love, I’m not going anywhere.” The man smirks at her, raising an eyebrow. He’s got a slight accent, British perhaps, and Emma tries not to think about how sexy it is.

“Not your love,” Emma retorts with a small laugh. He laughs at her quick wit and then glances down at Rascal.

“May I um… may I greet your dog?” he asks.

It’s a strange question. Most people don’t ask, they simply stick their hands right in Rascal’s face. He rarely reacts at all, but he’s been known to give big, wet kisses to some of Emma’s closer friends. She trusts his judgement, especially after he’d been right about Neal from the beginning….

Emma nods, watching Rascal to see what he’ll do. He sits up straight and stares at the man with curious eyes.

The man bends his knees and crouches down so he and Rascal are nearly the same height. He doesn’t say anything to him, merely holds his hand out, palm up, for the dog to consider. Rascal does, sniffing it and then moving closer so he can sniff the rest of the man’s arm, and then finally his face. If the man is surprised by the dog’s behavior, he doesn’t act like it.

“Hey bud,” he says softly. “I don’t have one myself,” he says to Emma, and she thinks back to her conversation with David about people without dogs. “What’s his name?” Rascal is practically in the man’s lap now.

“Rascal. And um… I’m Emma,” she holds her hand out awkwardly for him to shake. He looks up at her and takes her hand, kissing it instead. She does her best not to roll her eyes at the corny move.

“Killian,” he tells her. “Killian Jones. I just moved here with my step-sister.”

Emma wants to ask if his sister has a dog, if he’s alone in his loneliness. But she doesn’t, if only because Granny calls out her name for her takeout order.

“Nice to meet you,” she tells him, pulling a reluctant Rascal out the door. Killian waves at her as she leaves, and she feels the pain in her chest inexplicably expand as she walks away.

#captain swan #cspupstravaganza #captain swan fanfic #cs ff #cs fanfic #caitlin writes

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hencethebravery · 7 years

Text

Colin O’Donoghue spoke out loud in front of people about kissing Josh Dallas because he’s got nice lips. I literally can’t get over it, so here’s an AU about sneaking into someone’s house so you can kiss them on the mouth without inciting unnecessary drama. For the #CCsquad. @the-reason-to-sail-home @abbadons-little-witch @mahstatins

+ Honestly, it’s just as well he avoid the conversation altogether. It’s not as if he’d call his brother especially conservative per say, he just... knows Liam Jones. Knows that the man is physically incapable of keeping his opinions to himself—particularly those that might involve his younger brother—and he knows his own mind, how his thoughts tend to go maddeningly on, and he’d just prefer to avoid the inevitably wasted week that would follow. A week of waking up at the literal arse-crack of bloody dawn to avoid running into him. A week of vague text messages and convincing Robin to revise the duty roster. His own brother. The man who raised him, bathed him, fed him, changed his nappies.

Killian Jones, Lieutenant Killian Jones, a servant in Her Majesty’s Royal Navy, sneaking his... friend in through the bloody window like they’re misbehaving school boys.

“I have clearance to sail on a vessel with nuclear weapons on it.”

David chuckles, his bicep resting behind Killian’s neck like a lumpy pillow, “Yes, so you’ve said.”

“Point being, I’ve got the ability to press a button and blow up the planet, yet I seem to be physically incapable of showing you through the door like a normal person.”

“I’ve walked through your door,” he sighs as he pushes Killian’s damp hair off his forehead, “Also, I’m pretty sure arming a nuclear weapon isn’t that easy.”

He plants a kiss on his forehead and Killian wants to die. Just a little bit.

“Go to sleep, Jones.”

“Trust me,” he answers softly, his voice heavy with sleep, “it is.”

When he wakes up the next morning he’s alone, the blankets tucked underneath his chin and he tosses them over his head in shame. What an unbelievable prick he is.

The first night he’d tugged David’s unreasonably broad shoulders through his bedroom window was the same night Liam had started bugging him about meeting a girl.

“You’ve brought them home before,” he had stated reasonably, friendly enough, not even pressing, just politely inquiring, “I just wanted to make sure nothing’s the matter.”

“All’s well, brother,” Killian answered with a gentle smile, “I assure you.”

They’re both in their mid-20s so it is, admittedly, a bit juvenile, but David, bless his oversized heart, insists that there’s something romantic about the whole thing. Something about it being just the two of them, feeling like he’s in high school again and your heart’s beating fast because yes, maybe you’re somewhere you ought not to be, but it’s also beating because someone is looking at you like that and it’s everything.

“Your shoulders barely fit through the window, love.”

“Yeah, but you like it.”

Shockingly enough, Killian Jones has a reputation for being a bit rough-and-tumble. Liam, being Captain as he is, can’t officially condone it, but he has to admit, it’s gotten them out of some close-calls in the past—gotten the men to sit down and shut up when they need to. You wouldn’t think it, what with the rather slim shoulders and clean shaven face, but it’s the eyes (that’s what Dave says, anyway), it was the eyes that gave it away.

“And when you forget to shave,” he murmurs, his hand coming up to cradle his jaw, “goosebumps.”

It was a bit hard growing up, without parents, raised by an over-achieving brother pushing you to do well, but you, know-it-all teenager that you are, being unable to get your head out of your arse long enough to understand that he just wants what’s best for you. Pressing your lips to a woman’s neck and feeling utterly alive, seeing Graham Humbert’s hands tugging at your belt and feeling the exact same thing. Sipping cheap, garbage rum on the roof of your shitty apartment building and wondering what the fuck it all means.

Using your fists to make a point since no one cares what you have to say anyway, since all you’ve ever done is push people away or they leave you behind and it had just been easier that way, hadn’t it?

When Dave had seen that old picture of him on Facebook, that Liam had posted, of course—that everyone had laughed and jeered at, because look at him, Lieutenant Jones, dressed all in leather, his hair grown sloppy over his face, and is that a hand-rolled cigarette in your mouth, mate? His back pressed up against that brick wall as if he were keeping something back, and of course, David Nolan didn’t laugh.

They hadn’t even kissed, not yet. A handshake that feels a bit too firm sometimes, a heavy hand on the shoulder, a longing glance across the room, but that had been all. Killian couldn’t be sure, and he hadn’t wanted to risk losing him, he had been too good a friend for that, and Dave had just stared at the photo, and stared back at him, and Killian had fought that heated blush with all he had.

“You’ve changed so much,” he finally said, his voice proud and warm, “must’ve been hard.”

Killian’s voice, the deep, older voice of a grown man, cracking just enough, “Yeah,” he answered, “Yeah, it was.”

The pull-out is too small for the two of them.

“It’s fine,” David’s breath against his neck, large hands down by his waist, “it’s big enough.”

And this ex-junkie, ex-delinquent with the dirty hair and the leather jacket and the sodding flask all out of breath and trying to get a word in edgewise insisting that he’s a grown man and he really needs his own place.

“I don’t know,” rising up on his elbows, his grinning face staring down at a flushed, rumpled Lieutenant, “it’s kind of fun.”

David looks like a golden retriever puppy when he’s excited, and the furious teenager that stays hidden away under years of formal navy training cannot believe that Killian “Hook” Jones would sink so low as to associate with such an absolute sap.

He catches David’s own disproportionately slim hips between his thighs and manages to execute a surprisingly smooth flip, his own hands coming up to catch his wrists before he can interfere, “Must you be so infuriatingly optimistic?”

“I must,” answering with a smile, “it’s all 80s grunge and David Lynch movies in there,” gesturing towards Killian’s chest with his head, “the least I can do is appreciate the couch.”

“I’ve had this couch since Liam dragged it in off the street when we were kids,” their lips hovering teasingly against one another’s, barely a space of breath between them, “I’d watch for lice if I were you.”

Laughing and wrestling and falling off the old couch that is too small for them and David Nolan really doesn’t deserve the bedroom window.

“How do that man’s shoulders even fit through that window?”

Killian whips his head back around to his brother leaning up against the kitchen counter, watching their friends loudly yelling at the television, spilling beer all over the carpet that he had just cleaned for Christ’s sake.

“What did you just say?”

“I imagine it’s sort of amusing, actually. Shoulders like that. Small window. Like Marilyn Monroe in that film, the one with the singing?”

“Sure, that narrows it down, brother.”

He’s still trying to figure out if he can escape the minefield of this conversation, glancing over at the den trying to catch David’s eyes but the man is totally enamored by the game, and he would appear to be adrift in a sea of overprotective, vaguely patronizing concern.

“He would probably feel much more comfortable walking through our human-sized door, wouldn’t you say?”

Killian pauses, his fingers nervously picking at the wet label of his beer, trying to ignore the uncomfortable sensation that comes with actually breaking a sweat.

“...I suppose.”

“Let him use the door, Killian,” Liam says finally, his eyes crinkling happily at the corners, “and buy a bloody bed.”

#ouat ff #cc ff #cc fanfic #captain charming #cc: saved my life #@hencethewriter

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