#ive been thinking about heat possibly being under energy instead of motion

[jflashandclash]

Traitors of Olympus IV: Fall of the Sun

Forty-Three: Kalypso

I Get to be Python’s Piñata

             All Kally needed was an opening to attack Python.

           She clutched Vinyl’s black mane, terrified of being bucked off. When the blur of color had charged her, Kally hadn’t been sure if it was for a rescue or a mercy kill, either of which were equally likely from Calex’s volatile friend. Fortunately, she hadn’t been gored on the broken horn in a mess of bloody rainbow sparkles.

           The problem was—she’d never ridden a horse before, let alone a unicorn at stop-and-go hyperspeed. Once, at her old Bible camp, a pony had relieved itself all over her duffle bag at their orientation, but that was the extent of her horse whispering. All she could do was cling on.[1]

           As Python hissed and darted at her, the gust of breath was noxious, reeking of rotting corpses. Spittle struck her cheek and she didn’t want to think about apologizing to Alabaster for getting snake goop on his helm.[2]

           Vinyl shook his mane, clearly displeased. The motion shook up the scent of horse sweat.

           Another problem: Kally had no way to spin her discus for deceleration.

           When she saw the green glow incoming behind the drakon, she squeaked internally, Uh, helm, do you speak unicorn? We might need to dodge.

           Of course I can’t speak fucking unicorn. What do I look like, a Disney princess?[3]

           As Vinyl dashed them away from Python’s jaws, Kally realized dismounting would be suicide. Python was intent on having a Kally-and-unicorn chaser after whichever demigods the drakon had swallowed. But, if Kally couldn’t dismount to decelerate the discus, she didn’t know how to stop the discus. If it hit her full speed without her catching it, the metal might break a bone or knock her unconscious.

           When Vinyl had pivoted to avoid Python, the discus had readjusted its trajectory, proving she couldn’t trick it away. It would hit them full speed.

           She wondered if the discus would turn back into an Argonaut statue in the last second so it could make a face while crushing her skull.

           Even if Kally could redirect it, she needed a weapon. Vinyl wasn’t going to slow down enough for her to pick one up off the ground. There wasn’t enough energy in her to do more than a few fancy Apollo light blasts. The missed shot at Atë left Kally with second degree burns. She needed to find a weak spot so those attacks weren’t wasted deflecting off Python’s scales. Python’s enflamed eye didn’t look like it would work again, other than to distract the drakon. Kally couldn’t really pry its eye back open with a, “Hey, could you hold that pose so I can hit you again? Thanks.”

           Kally’s heart thudded in her chest.

           She didn’t have enough time to form a plan. Buzzing through Vinyl’s blinding sparks, the green, hissing discus was about to hit her.

           Reflexively, Kally’s hand snapped out. She tried to catch it early, so she could decelerate it by giving her hand room to move backwards.

           No! You—

           When the metal smashed into her fingers, her miscalculation became clear without needing any scathing comments from the Cloven Terror.

           Something in her arm cracked.

           Kally choked on pain, forcing her fist to keep tight around the discus. The names of bones and ligaments streamed through her head, but she forced that part of her brain to shut up. She clenched her other fist in Vinyl’s silky black mane, the ache of her scorched fingers becoming more apparent.

           “Child of Apollo!” Python roared after her.

           Kally wondered if gods and monsters would forget about demigods if they didn’t always announce them by heritage. Likely, but that didn’t make it any less annoying.

           The drakon lunged again.

           Vinyl snorted. The unicorn dashed to the side. Kally could feel the rush of air more than see the blur of Python as the drakon’s mouth came within inches of their retreat. She gagged at the stench. There was one nice thing: the rainbow sparks sputtering from Vinyl’s horn cooled the searing pain in her fractured forearm and the burns along the hand clutching Vinyl’s mane.

           Time slowed as she had to make a choice. In the split second that Vinyl dug his hooves into the ground to pivot and Python’s head was mid-raised, Kally squeezed her legs on either side of Vinyl’s body. She released Vinyl’s mane to take the discus from her broken arm to her burned one.

           There wasn’t any space to wind up for a real throw, but maybe the return recoil would be less. Python was only a dozen feet away.

           Kally twisted her torso with a throw. Pain erupted in her burned fingertips and tender opposite arm.

           The discus hissed to life.

           Kally gripped Vinyl’s hair again with her burned fingers, barely managing to stay mounted. She lifted her fractured forearm up to get as many healing sparks as she could. That arm needed to be as stable as possible so it wouldn’t completely shatter under the next discus return, and she couldn’t waste her energy on sing-healing it. As she’d say in Dungeons and Drakons, she needed to be a striker right now, not a support character.

           The golden gleam smashed into Python’s underbelly, where the neck would have been if the creepy monster wasn’t just one continuous wormy neck.

           “I will devour you and your siblings!” Python screamed, though Kally was satisfied to hear she might have hit its larynx, assuming drakons had those. Python’s voice sounded scratchy.

           But, as she feared, that had done little other damage. They needed a plan.

           “You’d have to catch me first!” she said, feeling like Pax would tease her for such a cliché, stupid taunt. At Python’s mention of her siblings, she feared the drakon would remember the other campers trying to seek cover around them.

           Her stomach fell when the discus gleamed green again on the return spin. When Alabaster’s jaw was fixed enough that she could hit him without him passing out from pain, she was going to give him a proper thank you for this very complicated gift.

           While the world blurred with Vinyl’s speed, every muscle in her body shook when she prepared her fractured arm to catch the discus again. Although the sparks soothed the ache, pain still made her arm quiver. But, it had to be this arm. She couldn’t risk breaking her throwing arm too.

           Right when she thought the discus was about to impact her and make her scream, Vinyl did something she wasn’t expecting.

           The psychotic unicorn dashed under Python’s rearing form—taking them within inches of the shield-like, massive scales of her underbelly.

           Kally shrieked, leaning low on Vinyl’s back, really wishing the helm spoke unicorn to ask a simple, “WHY!?”

           Python dropped, trying to crush them. Kally swore she could hear Vinyl’s tail swoosh against the scales.

           But, at the same time, she heard Python let out a frustrated hiss and the thunk of her discus.

           She looked back in enough time to have the discus bounce over Python’s massive body and practically plop into her hand. Although clutching it hurt, the now-Argonaut statue had lost almost all its momentum when it struck Python on the return swing.

            Vinyl, Kally realized, was a genius. Either that or very lucky to time out a second hit on Python with the discus’ return honing.

           They couldn’t keep this up though. They needed a plan other than Be Bait.

           A little help? She thought loudly to the helm that wouldn’t shut up earlier.

           I already told you. You seek the wrong target. We should help the Silver-Tongued Snake with his quarry.

           While Vinyl pivoted again for another dash, Kally couldn’t help but imagine this was the same frustration that Axel felt when arguing with Alabaster. This was the most stubborn helmet she’d ever met. When she first trudged towards Python, the helm had informed her that it was designed for use against gods and demigods, not giant squamates,[4] but she guessed survival instinct would kick in and make it help her.

           She was wrong.

           Its words echoed in her memory, Hecate’s Helms are more powerful when we work in harmony with our masters.

           They could probably work in tandem, and with Pax, to take out Eris. But, she couldn’t abandon the fight against Python. From what she could see, she was the only child of Apollo left standing. Python would likely go back on its rampage to destroy all the cabins in search of any living members.

           Her fingers tingled with heat at the thought.

           You’re letting her wind you like mice in a laboratory.

           Enough with the metaphors! Kally wanted to scream.

           You’re a child of the poetry god! it countered.

           Hoping she wouldn’t lose her balance with nausea, Kally glanced to the corner of her peripheral. With how fast Vinyl raced, the disorientation was worse when her vision went panorama.

           She expected to see how the Roman troops were fairing or see if the huntresses of Artemis or daughter of Demeter had used her distraction to get away from Python.

           Instead, she saw what the Cloven Terror meant.

           Python had removed her tail from the other side of camp and slammed it down to encircle them. Vinyl must have realized it to. He let out a burst of speed, racing towards a rapidly closing opening—

           That Python’s body now obscured.

           They were trapped and the coils were rapidly constricting like… like—

           Like a python? Did you forget who you were facing?! We should have fought Eris!

           Not helping! Kally shouted at the helm.

           With each twist of a coil, Kally’s throat constricted too. She remembered her nightmares—being crushed by a smothering, squeezing darkness. Panic began to mount. Could she make another light burst and shake Python off if the snake smothered her again? She wasn’t sure. And what if Python only left them last time to enact Eris’ plan? Maybe—if Python swallowed her—she could explode the drakon from the inside, though that didn’t have a smilie mark on the list of ways to live through this.

           Vinyl didn’t rear and freak the way she suspected.

           The unicorn continued its dead sprint, building speed, at the rapidly enclosing wall of Python’s body. Maybe Vinyl thought it was better to die in a high-speed collision than by digestion.

           Right when Kally started screaming, Vinyl lunged.

           Kally gasped, scared of having hope. They were going to clear the coils. Unicorns could jump.

           In mid-blur and mid-air, something moved again in her peripheral.

           That something had the consistency of a brick wall when it smacked them out of the air.

           Vinyl shrieked.

           Kally yelled in pain, losing hold of Vinyl. Her broken arm burned with agony.

           They tumbled down to the ground, crashing hard. Python’s tail continued through on its strike, smashing into the metal shield-wall a few feet away.

           The disorientation was intense. Kally feared she couldn’t move her body. Her mind wouldn’t—

           Focus, the Cloven Terror commanded.

           A wave of concentration seeped out like the helm was made of ice instead of metal and bone. She shot up, the pain in her broken arm going cold. Vinyl withered and floundered to get to his feet about a yard away. Kally didn’t know where her discus went.

           “Hey Python!” a voice with diva-like quality called somewhere above Kally. “You don’t want to look at that ugly, little child of Apollo. You want to look here where the real stars are and pause to admire them.”

           Everyone froze.

           Without wanting to, Kally felt her eyes trail upward. From the corner of her vision—that went panorama with the movement of her eyes—she could see Python also pause in lunging to eat her and stare at the figures at the same height as the snake’s head.

           In a slit in the shield, Drew Takana leaned out. Her eyes were red and puffy, but her voice projected with the confidence of someone who regularly treated hoards of people like steps on a stairway. Although Kally didn’t need further convincing on the point, Drew’s conviction was so strong, Kally—and Python—both paused to look up at the daughter of Aphrodite, someone Kally knew was more of a star without her needing to hear it.

           To the side of Drew, Calex stood tall. His bow was propped on some weird stand, like his bow was, instead, a ballista. Even in the dimness and distance, Kally could see that something was wrong with him. His scarf was gone. The material of one of his sleeves looked like particles of it had been sucked away. Calex’s muscles flexed as he drew his bow back.[5]

           Two arrows glistened to life on the string, one a thin, glistening black, somehow darker than the night around them, and the other a sparkling, blinding gold, sputtering in and out of control.

           “Ready!” Calex called with gritted teeth.

           Something clinked into place behind him. “Ready!” someone said.

           Both Kally and Python realized what was happening around the same time. However, Kally didn’t need to dodge the way Python would have.

           Calex released his bow.

           Kally thought the arrows would ricochet off the scales, like everything else had. Instead, they pierced into Python’s raised body. Cords whirled out with the arrows, lodging between the thick scales.

           Calex slumped over, Drew darting to catch him.

           Kally heard the sparks before she registered their effect. There was a crack, then Python screamed, as—Kally found out later—electricity surged through the snake.

           The drakon’s mouth dropped open so Kally had a perfect view of its fangs and the skin attached to them, the way the forked, black tongue dangled out, the strange tunnel-like structure just before the throat opening.

           The entire coiling body withered.

           This is the opening we needed, the Cloven Terror shook her from the charm speak.

           Whatever Calex and the others were doing to stun Python, Kally doubted it would last or that it would kill the beast. She’d been so focused on distracting Python from attacking her friends; she didn’t think that her friends could cause the best distraction for her.

           Kally thought about her destroyed cabins, how many of her half-siblings were dead, how none of this would have happened if her monster of a father might have stepped in to help or listened to his children or be useful for once in his immortal life.

           She harnessed that rage and frustration. Her already burned palms singed with heat before going completely numb. A blinding light exploded by her fingertips, honing in to the tip of a javelin.

           Kally took a step back, then raced forward, feeling the energy start in the leg she used to ground herself, running up her thigh, through her back muscles as she twisted her upper torso. The scent of burnt skin intensified. The energy flared through her arm when she released the glaring shaft of light from her fingertips.

           The bolt of pure, burning light flew upwards, straight into the roof of Python’s mouth.

 Hey guys! As always, thank you for reading! By the number of footnotes, you might have guessed that I had real time to actually edit this week XD I felt like this chapter was much smoother and I’m finally getting the hang of things again! :D

 I hope you enjoyed! Stay tuned next week for Reyna’s chapter!

 Footnotes:

[1] I personally love Worf… for the 1% of you who got that… I’ll show myself out

[2] Mel betanote, “Knowing Alabaster, tho, there’s probably worse on that helm from him.” Jack, “Accurate. Boy dissects bodies for fun. Imagine when he thinks it needs to be cleaned.”

[3] Mel betanote, “Sir! This was originally a PG-13 series XD …. Originally.” Jack, *looks at death by electric base, implications of incest, and other traumas* “It…. Can still pass!”

[4] Cute, crawly, scaly things. This is Pax’s technical definition.

[5] Mel betanote, “Meow?” Jack, “I can now that that Calex is canonically the most attractive male demigod in the series.  Feel free to argue in favor of a Pax boy instead XD”

#Heroes of Olympus #Percy Jackson and the Olympians #Traitors of Olympus #fanfiction #PJO #HOO #Kally #Calex #Thalia (in the background...?) #Drew (being a nice person...? wtf?!?1) #Python (mmmm roasted snake) #I finally feel like I'm back in action! #You know--until something else tragic happens to a friend or family member #*glares at Tyche* #*knocks carefully on wood* #seriously contemplates deleting that for fear of repercussions

[courtorderedcake]

An Enchanted Forest AU where the dark one was never released into the world in a vessel, thus causing a massive shift in timelines. The ogre wars have ravaged kingdoms, untold destruction spanning continents, rulers displaced. Even as the wars sputter to ash, the safest place to be is at sea, and that’s not very safe at all - as Emma and Killian find out, fates intertwined against all odds.

Rated: E/X - heavy content : warnings of assault, rape, noncon, just everything, I feel like the rating says enough. It’s something.

I have been sick, so enjoy a two-fer week. Here’s number two!

WARNING:  This chapter contains sex that has kink elements some might not be comfortable with. 

READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.

Read on Ao3 HERE .

Chapter IV: Seafoam

I have seafoam in my veins, I understand the language of waves.

-Jean Cocteau

A storm chased The Jolly Roger into the town that was situated before the ruins of the Enchanted Forest. As thunder and lightning shook the skies overhead, more ships fled the monstrous gale that stirred the sea into waves that were towering like mountains. Storms made him anxious now, a phantom ache where his hand had been even as almost a year had past since he made the brace that supported his hook, and since his surname had been lost under a namesake of the same appendage.

He hated the looks of pity people gave him now, but relished the fear that replaced it when the sharp point of his hook caught the light. There were very few people who treated him the same as before, or didn’t stare, but they were far and few between. His crew and Captain Swan’s crew were among those few.

Letting the rain pelt him, Killian watched from the Jolly’s deck, a spyglass in hand, as his crew buggered off to do whatever was left to do in the pitiful town. On the horizon, her sails black and gold even against the gray of the clouds, The Gilded Wing breezed in to anchor. Killian smiled, even if he wasn’t sure why.

Maybe it was the many memories of her captain warm underneath him or splayed on top of him, as he repaid a debt owed in one of the few ways he could; stomping over to her in heated rages or her appearing in his quarters to yell at him, until she moaned his name instead. At most, they’d seen each other several times in a month, a freak snowstorm stranding them for a week in Arendelle, royalty running amuck to pickpocket - or so he’d heard told when he returned from Swan’s quarters in the mornings, lighter in some ways himself.

The last time he saw Swan, she’d been furious about a misunderstanding with a vendor they had both dealt with that had caused her trade to fall through, while his own trade filled the vendor’s need as agreed. He hated the vendor, a slimy git who stained the not so sterling reputation of Camelot further with his greased palms. Swan had dragged him out to the middle of nowhere, damning his name as she divested him of clothing in a field of flowers, his hook digging into the soft ground.

He wasn’t intending to be where she was, and she swore the same; the utter ridiculousness of it making them waste panted air in laughter, pulling away from the other to bask in the high of their trysts.

The wind shifted suddenly, changing directions without warning. His coat fluttered, and he took a breath of the storm air.

Things were changing.

Emma and her crew limped The Wing into the harbor, barely making it through the turbulent water and screeching winds. Even with a simple charm to keep rain off of her deck, the wind whipped and howled around the barrier.

David gave an audible sigh of relief from holding the ropes while Snow smiled at him. Emma rolled her eyes; there was literally no reason to hide that they were together any longer, but David insisted. Snow had told Emma as much one afternoon as they lounged on the huge four poster bed she’d bought for the Captain’s quarters. “He wants to keep me safe I guess. Thinks if it got out, they’d exploit us, use us against each other as a weakness.” She gave a pointed look at Emma. “Try to use our emotions to manipulate us, possibly without us even being aware.”

“That sounds awful.” Emma took a large bite of a cinnamon pastry, swallowing loudly. “I’m glad I don’t have to deal with all that.”

Snow huffed a sigh, rolling over and standing, leaving Emma blinking in confusion.

Surveying the harbor, she smiled at the assembled crews she saw between the wary merchant vessels and a passenger sloop gathered there: Maelstrom, The Jolly Roger, The Jammed Pearl, The Curse of McGullan, and Red Hamsa all sat in various depths.

Emma's eyes were immediately drawn to The Jolly, catching a glimpse of Hook, his coat flapping in the wind and his hair being tossed as rain swept across the water.

David grunted beside her, nodding at The Jolly. “He's here. Of course he is.”

“So are four other ships. Hopefully, we won't see much of each other, and this storm clears quickly. Especially since the Maelstrom is here- I'd rather not deal with their crew if possible. “

“You make friends everywhere we go,” David smirked.

“It's a gift. Truly.”

“There's someone here I want you to meet, Em, speaking of friends.”

“You have friends? And here I've been lying to people for years!” Emma mock exclaimed.

“Shut up.” He picked at a bit of wood, a nervous tic that made Emma anxious. “He's a shopkeeper; nice, quiet, strong. I think you'd like him.”

“But who will I bring on our double date?” Emma teased.

“Go say hello. He works at Elm Leaf Market. He’s where I get those cuts of meat you like. Apparently, he hunts everything himself.”

“I really don't know how I feel about taking your sloppy seconds, but if you insist -”

“Emma.” David grasped her arm, pulling her to look at him. “This life doesn't have to be forever. You don't have to settle for-”

“I am well aware, David,” Emma wrenched her arm away from him. “I have never settled for less than I deserve, and I don't ever intend to. I like this life.”

David grunted, opening his mouth as if to say something, then closed it with a grimace, staring past her through the rain. Following his gaze, she could see the empty deck of The Jolly Roger, beaten by the same rain that battered her barrier charm.

“Just remember, Em,” David sighed. “You deserve to be happy. You've fought hard, and you don't have to settle for less.” He walked to the lower deck where Snow had been watching the exchange. He stood beside her without saying anything until she rested her head against his chest.

A pink dress was laid out for Emma on her bed, as Snow tightened a full corset around her waist. Emma would sigh with annoyance if she could; the tight garment was practically cutting off her circulation.

“Why am I wearing this again?” Emma groaned.

“Because,” Snow smiled, fussing with her hair, and letting it fall in soft curls. “It makes you look amazing. Especially your -” Snow gestured to Emma’s chest, giggling.

Emma had to admit, the corset worked wonders. Rubbing on lavender, lotus, sweet pea, and orange oil, and slipping on the pink dress in its thin satin, they surveyed her reflection in the polished copper mirror. With her hair pulled out of its usual snarled style and brushed to soften it, and the smallest touches from a pot of rouge, it was a complete transformation.

“Emma, you look -”

“Oh,” Emma smiled, wolfishly. “I know.”

Walking off her ship towards the market, Emma saw Scarlet, one of the members of Hook’s crew, do a double take while flirting with a flower seller. That was enough to seal her opinion on how well Snow and her had done.

The Elm Leaf Market was really all that was left of the village, a sort of smushed catch all of sundries, a butcher shop, a blacksmith, a greenery, apothecary, and anything else a booth could hold. It was always busy with the bedraggled survivors who lived on the outskirts of ogre country, buying supplies in bulk or spending time drinking away memories of what was.

Emma felt like a ghost as she waded through the slow crowd, watching as people sometimes parted around her in shock, her blush colored gown standing out in the sea of gray and brown cloaks. She'd worn a shawl and her dress clung slightly, but she'd missed most of the rain as it blew back to sea.

Graham was easy enough to find, and even easier (she had to admit) on the eyes. Shaggy brown hair, large kind eyes, broad shoulders and a soft brogue that stuttered a hello when she bent across his counter, giving him a view of her cleavage.

“Would you like to get a drink tonight? My brother seems to think we'd get along splendidly.” Emma purred, playing with a small wooden figurine of a stag, and looking up at him through her lashes.

He gulped.

“Um… sure, I … Shouldn't... Shouldn't I have asked you?”

She motioned him closer, whispering in his ear softly, feeling forward as the man practically melted.

“I'm not exactly one for propriety. See you tonight.”

She gave him a saucy wink, and headed back out of the market.

Things were changing. The air was electric, still misting rain that made her dress cling under a quick shielding spell. Hugging her shawl closer, she was briefly focused elsewhere when she ran into someone’s shoulder, tripping forward.

 Will Scarlet had come back breathless, pulling Killian aside in his excited state, even more so than usual. He whispered low, his voice practically shaking with energy.

“Will, if this is about liquor sales -”

“No, no, Captain -” Will wore a huge grin. “Have you seen Captain Swan today?”

“Briefly, when The Wing sailed in. Wait, why?” Ice water froze his veins for a moment, unsettling him. “Is she alright?”

Will quirked an eyebrow and gave a half smile. “Oh, she's fine. Just fine. I would make a point to say hello to her today if I were you.”

“Scarlet, I don't like riddles. What's going on with her?”

“I told you, nothing.” The skinny man shrugged, his smile growing. “And if there was, why would you care?”

Killian blinked, slowly. “I don’t. I owe her a debt. That's all.”

“Sure. I'd hurry, she was moving quickly.”

Killian blinked again, and nodded slightly. “This better be good, Scarlet.”

Walking down the dirt path towards the market and letting the rain pelt him, he kept an eye out for her gold hair, windswept and slightly wild. He'd shed his coat to spare it from the rain, wearing just a pair of breeches and a black vest. Reaching the market he was immediately annoyed with Scarlet. Emma wasn't there. An older woman haggled for potatoes. A man sold eggs, ducklings, and chicks. A shop keep and maiden flirted over a counter. A child begged for coin. He turned to go back to the Jolly, and to give Scarlet a severe tongue lashing.

Then he heard her laugh. Turning, he squinted through the rain as it quieted. Emma. She glowed, her hair soft, skin peaches and cream, lips a soft rose color and good Gods above, below, and maybe in the middle her breasts -

His lungs actually hurt when he found breath again. Scarlet was getting a brick of bouillon for this. He stood stupidly, watching her cast a quick spell as she came towards him. He let himself drift into a thought of her just kissing him on the cheek as they walked by the water watching the storm, her laying against his chest in that dress as they pulled a blanket around them, staying warm in the rain -

She ran into him.

“Oh, sorry. Usually people walk you know -” She looked up at him, her eyes rimmed in kohl, and her grimace turned into a frown. “Oh, it's you. God, didn't the Navy teach you how to walk or close your stupid mouth? You're going to catch flies.” Emma reached her hand to his chin, closing his mouth. “There.” She gave him a small pat on the cheek and walked past.

Killian turned to watch her, before shaking his head and walking briskly to catch up with her.

“Swan.” He swallowed thickly, trying to still his nerves, “Would you like to, uh,” he scratched behind his ear. “I owe you an ale, or rum, or whatever you would like to drink and I-”

“I have a date tonight,” she shrugged. “If you want to send it over to us, feel free, but Graham and I may be busy.”

She turned and walked away from him and for the first time, Killian felt a strange emotion well up in his chest. No matter how hard he tried to push it down, it rose again and again like a snake, striking him with fits of rage- and something else he refused to examine.

Graham. He hated the name instantly.

Pacing in his cabin that evening, he finally decided to make his way to the only tavern in the shithole ruined town he was stuck in. Throwing on his coat, he gave orders to Smee and made his way into town. Most of the place was in ruins or abandoned, casting an eerie silence that was only broken by the echoes from the tavern. He walked into the shoddy building and sat at the bar. The Adder’s Bite was as full as the lonely place could be. He spotted Swan right away with the halfwit, his hands low on her waist as they danced to the directions of a fiddle player.

When the fiddler told them to grab their partner, the moron fumbled. Killian gripped the table as his knuckles went white, ready to bash his head in, until Swan laughed at his slip up. They continued on and the second time Graham lifted her with ease. Killian asked for a glass carafe, and began to pour himself a heavy glass to parch his throat, immediately pouring another.

Watching them together, Swan’s neck long and pale as she threw back her head and laughed, Killian felt a heavy desire that actually hurt. His face was hot, and he could feel his pulse thump heavily as he watched her hands, those clever fingers, thread with Graham’s as he spun her. Killian stood, throwing back his drink, and made his way towards them. “May I cut in, mate?” he said lowly, and Emma glowered at him. “We’re busy Hook. My dance card is full,” she hissed, and the man blinked slowly at Killian, looking back at Emma. “The woman said we’re busy,” he said in an accented voice, one from the Northern Isles. “So I guess we’re busy. Better luck next time,” he shrugged.

Killian seethed under a wolfish grin. “I insist.” He pushed the man aside and took a struggling Emma out on the dance floor. The man sat down, arms crossed as his shaggy brown hair flopped over his eyes. He looked pathetic.

“Let go of me, you ass! Graham and I were fine before you -”

“Before I what? Showed you how to pick a partner who knows what they’re doing?” A fiddle player picked up with the accordion as other dancers took the floor with them. Emma resisted again for a moment, before she allowed herself to be spun back into his chest, his hook pressing against the small of her back. She huffed, but a smile had crept up into her features, and he spun them again. “You ruin everything, you know. You’re lucky you are a good dancer.”

He smirked, casting a glance back at Graham, who was now approaching them. He gripped Emma’s waist tighter, the same flare of that heat in his chest sparking a need to be possessive of her. He wanted to tell her how beautiful she looked, how stunned he was not only now but every time he saw her. Instead he let himself guide her in a gentle sway.

“You're not bad yourself, Swan.” He murmured, and underneath he hoped she could hear what he couldn't say. He could just kiss her and hope for the best, or if she just heard the words he wanted to say, she might press her lips against his -

She didn't. She let go of Killian, returning to Graham’s arms instead. Killian returned to his table and watched a bit longer as she laughed at Graham’s clumsiness. He swirled drink after drink, a new glass replacing every one finished without an order, watching as her face lit in a way she had never shown towards him. He swallowed another several fingers of rum in a gulp.

What they had was good. It was fine, his brain screamed, trying to interject logic over his drunkenness and jealousy. He blinked, staring at the amber in his glass that had begun to spin. Jealousy? He wanted to fuck, to ruin, to bruise pale skin and lips, not dance or light her face with that beautiful laugh of hers that made his ears heat -

He shook it off, his head spinning. Fucking hells, he was drunk. A little voice he pretended not to hear rustled in his mind, whispering that he wanted more; wanted to be in this ‘Graham's’ stead; wanted to press gentle kisses on her temples as they twirled for hours to fiddle song. It sounded like Liam’s quiet candor, wounding him, and he pushed it down with force.

He swallowed another glass, impatiently waiting the minute until another appeared. Graham stumbled again and Killian had to resist every drunken instinct screaming for him to break the man's legs for stepping on his Swan’s pretty feet. It was a bloody waltz. What sodding wanker of a man couldn't do a three step - He blinked, processing his thoughts slowly. His Swan? He knocked back another drink, savoring the burn down his throat.

They sat, and he grinned when Emma's hands rubbed her feet delicately. The grin vanished quickly, though, when her wincing brought Graham's dolt hands to stroke her calves, eliciting a quiet moan from that pretty mouth. When the other man kissed her, Killian stared into his glass, trying to understand why his heart thumped loudly, his skin heated, and his muscles tensed at the thought of that worthless fucking oaf touching her. Why him? He’d skin the man alive for his useless hide for thinking he was worthy.

That stupid voice spoke to him again, Liam’s annoying older brother voice full of pity and life weary experience:

You know why you feel this way.

He swallowed another drink and stood, plopping down at another table.

“You idiots want to make some quick coin?”

 When he woke up, Killian’s head pounded like he'd smashed it against shore stones and he had a mighty need for water and a hearty meal. He'd drank far too much last night, been out of control, and now even opening his eyes to the bright light of wherever the hell he was became a challenge.

Flesh stirred near his abdomen, while on the other side of him someone breathed steadily. As his brain pulled itself from its drunken haze, he registered that he was in a large bed with at least three other bodies, all very nude. Creaking his eyes open, he recognized the linens and ceiling. Cora’s Place.

Killian closed his eyes and lifted his hand to the bridge of his nose. Sorting through memories, he tried to remember what happened last night. He'd gone from dancing with Emma to a blank. Shaky pieces of memory came back to him and he groaned.

He'd gone to sit with some rough lads, asking for a favor owed. Watching Emma and Graham part with a kiss, and the blokes approach Graham in an alley. Staggering back into the shadows and into Cora’s Place. Picking three blondes and being led to a room, where he promptly stripped nude and…

He'd fallen asleep.

He felt the soft touch of a hand graze his cock, and the whisper of a raspy, low, voice.

“I know our time is up, but since you haven't been serviced…” A woman pressed her wet mouth onto the side of his semi erect member, licking circles.

Killian sighed, and tried to enjoy the sensation, but it was wrong. Her mouth was too wet and too rough, her teeth catching occasionally. He pushed her off and the two other women woke as he stood.

“Was it not pleasurable, sir?” The woman looked at him with wide eyes. The other two women stared at them groggily.

“No. Yes. I mean -” he started to dress, looking for his discarded clothes.

“It’s alright. We're not her. Happens more often than you menfolk want to admit,” one of the women on the bed said sleepily. “We’re poor substitutes for the real thing.”

Killian blinked, pausing from shrugging on his shirt over his hook. He stared at the blonde woman who had spoken, lying in bed. Her blonde curls framed a heart shaped face and deep brown eyes.

“We're not Emma.”

He bristled, tensing. “How do you, why did -”

“Ya talk in ya sleep, mate,” said the other dozing woman, pale platinum hair a tangled mess. “Musta ‘ad Emma on ya mind. We ‘eard ya mumble it a dozen times.”

He blanched. Pulling the rest of his clothing together, he went to leave, throwing on his shoes, his anger and embarrassment rising. He rushed out, long overcoat thrown on in haste, and heard one of the women call after him.

“We will never tell anyone. We never do.”

Bursting through the door into the burning sunlight, Killian stumbled through the back alleys of ruined homes and narrow side streets between abandoned shops that he usually took to get to his ship. His head throbbed, and his mood had gone sour with the whores’ accusations.

When he tripped over a vagrant lying in a narrow corridor, he pulled the man up by his collar. Graham's bloody and barely conscious face greeted him.

“Shit,” Killian hissed, as Graham whimpered and blocked his face. “What, you didn't even fight back? What a worthless, spineless, wet scrap of a dog -”

Graham laughed at that, and Killian put the idiot down. He obviously had a brain injury.

“I can't fight back.” Graham said, spitting blood.

“What? What kind of man can't fight -”

“It's complicated.”

“Well, good luck to you and your complications. I have enough of my own.” Killian turned to walk away.

Graham curled himself into a ball, his back facing Killian.

“Oh bloody hell mate,” Killian gave an exasperated sigh. A dagger stuck out of the man's back. “You bloody idiot, you've been stabbed -”

“I know, but you're not supposed to take it out because it will bleed more, and it's not silver-”

“You damned fool, you have to take it out at some point!” Killian wiped his hand over his face, pinching the bridge of his nose. He was far too hungover for this; the consequences of his actions back to bite him immediately.

Graham shook, and Killian recognized the oncoming stage of shock about to set into the man's beaten body.

Giving a long sigh, Killian helped the man up and limped him to the Jolly. Laying him in the sick bay, he let Smee tend to him and stitch him up. He gave the man a heavy dosing of rum before sitting to watch.

“Can you cook better than you fight?” Smee asked, sewing up a nasty gash.

Graham nodded, wincing and whimpering even after several shots of rum. “Aye, yea, I can cook.”

“Ship needs a cook. You'll pay the Cap’n back for saving you by cooking.”

Graham's face was sheer panic, before he put on an air of indifference. Killian noted there might be more to the idiot after all.

“Is there, or do you have, a strong brig or cell?” he asked calmly. “I'll need it every so often.”

Smee squinted, but Killian spoke up. “That's fine. We haven't had a lycanthrope aboard before.”

Graham’s face went pale, staring at Killian with fear. Smee only scratched his head through his knit cap, muttering the word.

“Forget you heard that word, and get out.” Killian pointed at Smee, waving him out. There was an uneasy beat of silence. “You can go back to the market if you like, shopkeep. If you have a pack, or kin, which I don’t think you do. Courting a human is bold.”

A hard glint behind Graham’s eyes revealed the predator underneath if just for a moment. Killian picked his thumb with his hook, smirking.

“I didn’t… She came on to me. I’d be an idiot to say no. What is this anyway, some jealous attack on me?” Killian’s jaw set at the idea of himself being jealous. This was for Emma’s safety, and was a clear drunken mistake. Before Killian could retort, Graham let out a growled laugh, looking at his hands. “You did me a favor though, I guess. You’re right. I haven’t anyone there. I thought Emma could cure me if we got close enough, or could take me across the sea to a pack who’d take me. Her brother and her have a weak scent of werewolf on them.”

Killian blinked, and then laughed. “I assure you, Swan isn’t. Bite and Bark without all the fur, very much so. No offense mate.” Graham looked mollified, and frowned. “I’ll go with you. I’ll let you know when I need to be locked -” Killian held up his hand to stop the man. “You can have shore leave. We took a she-wolf to Glowerhaven, and were late to arrive. I’d rather not sustain that much damage to my ship again, if possible.” Killian winced at the memory of deep grooves of claw marks that had splintered the floorboards.

“Fine with me. It’s also easier to bring meat back that way, then I don’t need a cow on board.” Graham shrugged. “When do we leave?”

“Now.” Killian said with a shrug. “You really thought Emma could cure you?”

“Well, I thought she might be sympathetic to my cause, associating with someone like me and being able to use magic. I thought maybe she might even let me mark her if -”

“Mark her?” Killian looked up with narrowed eyes, jaw clenching tight. “You mean change her into…” “If she consented, yes, so we could have a pack bond.”

Killian’s rage was back in full force, a sudden explosion that he couldn’t quell. His hands were on Graham’s collar, snarling at the injured man. “Don’t ever consider that thought again. Stay away from her or I will smelt a silver chain so long it will wrap around you twice, and throw you into the ocean.”

Graham’s eyes were wide, and Killian unclenched his fingers, backing away. “As soon as your able, go clean the galley until it’s not only spotless, but it shines. I don’t want to see your face until it’s done.” Killian hissed, and left the small room. Stalking out into fresh air, he breathed out a ragged breath, signalling the order to ship out.

 Emma wasn’t surprised that Graham disappeared. She didn’t bother telling David, knowing he’d demand an excuse from the butcher, which would just make things worse. She didn’t need a reason as to why he had decided to up and go; a reason only made things worse and identified one of her “qualities” that made her undesirable to someone. Emma didn’t want one identified when there were so many she knew herself.

It didn’t matter why he left. He did, he didn’t leave a note, and he obviously wasn’t interested. What was done was done. She had better things to do. Belle had been studying movements of currents and winds over shipping routes as a pet project, noting where ships seemed to go down with only natural events. Based on her conjecture, she had shown Emma a map of where she suspected a large amount of treasure may have been pushed by currents. They had been heading there before the bad weather had hit, unwilling to be in treacherous waters as a storm pummeled them.

They sailed back, making good time. The weather was beautiful, and the water almost as blue as the sky in places, the crew lounging about the deck. Belle called down to her when they were a day or so away from their destination, pointing to a familiar shape appearing on the horizon. “Oh for fuck’s sake.” Emma heard her brother groan. “Emma, you didn’t -”

“Of course I didn’t say anything to him. I don’t advertise my plans, especially when they involve us being fed.” She glared at David, and he glared back. Belle hopped down from the rigging, looking embarrassed.

“It um, it might be my fault,” Belle looked down at her feet, holding a book and her spyglass against her back. “I uh… Will came to see me before we left, said I hadn’t been at the bar and he wondered how I was doing. I showed him some of my calculations and we talked. I didn’t think anything of it.”

David threw up his hands, exasperated. “Great! Another one.” Snow shot him a dangerous look, and went to Belle’s side. “It’s not her fault, David.” Snow patted Belle sympathetically on the shoulder, and all eyes looked to Emma as they approached. Emma rolled her eyes. “Emma, it’s not -”

“I know it’s not Belle’s fault. Belle, it isn’t. We’ll just… I’ll just… We’ll ignore him. We’ll get what we came here for, and he can leave well enough alone.” Emma ran her hands through her hair, pinning it back away from her face. “Let’s get swimming. Shall we?”

After a break, the crew came back and took position, uncaring as the Jolly Roger slunk into a clearer view. Emma dove into the water holding the chain in hand, the first one in the water. Waiting for her crew, she opened the bottle of potion she held, letting the content swirl around her. Ruby came next, as Emma felt the shock of water in her lungs. It wasn’t comfortable, but she wasn’t dead. Ruby opened hers, grimacing as gills appeared and she took a breath of the sea water. David and Snow came together, Snow the first to try to speak, croaking something ridiculous before clapping hands over her mouth. Ruby grinned, and Emma simply shook her head as they swam down.

Belle had been right. Searching through the water with a simple light spell, they found ship after broken ship on the reef, aptly named ‘The Reef of Broken Hulls’. The current had swept lighter goods into a small valley on the seafloor, while heavier casks remained unbroken and crates that were intact. Attaching the chains to boxes, Ruby gave a signal to The Wing, and slowly they were pulled up.

The work slowed down as the large pieces were pulled up, so the crew now had to scavenge the smaller pieces for anything left. Emma floated lazily picking through wreckage and admiring the algae covered figureheads. Looking back towards The Wing, she noticed the shadow of The Jolly Roger a ways off. Squinting, she did a quick push off of a piece of wreckage, spotting an unrecognized form sorting through what was left.

She swam closer, peeking around the broken stern of a ship. Blinking, she let out a croaking guffaw at the sight in front of her. A large shimmering bubble floated around the heads of Hook, Will, and a man she didn’t immediately recognize. Emma had seen the spell but had chosen against it in favor of being able to swim more naturally, sight unobscured.

Gathering her finds, she made her way closer. Hook glanced up at her, his face strangely magnified and skewed like a warped mirror. He pointed, and Will and the other man looked her way. Graham’s face looked back at her from one of the iridescent globes. So, he’d left to join the Jolly. Ironic that he’d left to get away, only to potentially see her more often.

Ruby swam by Emma’s line of sight with her back towards her, body tense. Emma sunk down to her level and touched Ruby’s shoulder, surprised when her friend turned with her teeth bared. Relaxing slightly, she made a motion towards the three, where Graham stared straight at them. Emma pulled at Ruby’s arm, but she made no motion to move, caught in some sort of strange staring war. Emma gave her a pinch, and she shook out of the trance, smiling apologetically. They swam towards The Wing, but Emma noticed with concern her friend looking back over her shoulder with a strange look of anxious curiosity.

Pulling themselves on the deck, they took the antidote that waited for them, Emma enjoying the feeling of rightness that came from breathing air again.

“Ruby, the hell was -” Emma began, pushing wet hair out of her face.

“He’s like me.”

“Wait. What?” Emma watched as Ruby wrung her hair, chewing on her lip. “He’s…?”

“You can say it, Emma. He’s a werewolf, like me. Not taking a potion or anything either. Super weird smelling him underwater, sorry about that. The wolf thought he might be a threat because he smelled…” Ruby’s cheeks colored, and she shook her head. “Anyway. Don’t worry about it, we just had a moment between us. It’s not a big deal.”

“Uh-huh. Ruby, you can talk to me if -”

“It’s nothing,” Ruby hissed, and Emma backed off.

Walking over to survey their finds, she glanced over at The Jolly bobbing gently on the sea. Belle had seethed all day over her mistake, angry Will had used her. Their on and off talks had never led to betrayal, and Belle was not one who actively sought out anyone’s company. The fact she’d let Will in, and he’d done this - Emma felt the flare of anger in her own chest.

It was a comfort to Emma that at least Belle got to see this to fruition. She’d excitedly surveyed their finds, marveling over jewels, coins of countries lost to the ages, beautiful pendants, and casks of who knew what. She’d be busy for weeks studying the trading logos.

“Are we able to set sail?” Emma called to David. At his nod, they lifted anchor, Emma calling the crew to deck to discuss how they’d like to split their finds. Emma turned back, surprised to see Ruby at Belle’s side. Both had picked out a few pieces already, Belle choosing a beautiful citrine ring and Ruby choosing her namesake in a pair of earbobs. They both stared out at the Jolly as it faded away into the distance. Emma retired below deck, letting the others go over the spoils.

 The next months dragged with one disaster after another, to the point of Emma wondering if they had somehow invoked a curse or angered some lesser known deity. The first sign of trouble had been a strange and tense encounter with the older captain of The Red Hamsa, Omar. He’d given her a warning, speaking low outside of the inn at the lesser known outpost in Northern Camelot. They made moonshine that could scrape off barnacles without the touch of a finger, but a drink was a drink.

“Lie low, little bird. There’s talk of danger for you. A gathering of captains that will meet, led by Blackbeard.” His voice was like feet dragging over gravel, the long water pipe in his lips mixing smoke with the salt and pepper of his beard. “The Hook has been asked to join, as was I. I refused the offer; I was tired of these games long before any of you were sailing. Watch who your friends are.”

He blew smoke, the form of a butterfly appearing in the herbal scented wisps. It fluttered a few paces before dissolving, following his form as he hobbled away. Emma believed in many superstitions as they related to the sea and magic, but she tried to not put stock into portents of doom. It was wasteful. A purposeful look at anything could identify some symbolism within. However, the butterfly was a renowned symbol, just like the ship its maker commanded. A Hamsa was a ward for the evil eye, the hand of the Old Gods that could bring peace or war. A butterfly under the same sky they molded meant change, usually with force.

Emma turned on her heel, ready to get back aboard her ship and leave as soon as possible, but Ruby was in the woods and who knew how drunk anyone else was. She hissed a string of expletives.

“How is it there’s a whole bloody ocean but I still end up in the same waters as you?” Emma tensed, the low, wry chuckle a comfort and curse. Hook stepped out of the shadows where he’d been leaning, looking amused with himself.

“Maybe if you stopped following our ship, or poaching our finds -”

“A pirate’s life, finder’s keepers love.” There was a new ring on one of his fingers and she glared at it, knowing she’d seen its ilk in their coffers. The vulture. His hook shone in the light from the thin windows.

“You are a child.” He caught her as she pushed past him, pressing her against the wooden wall of the inn with his arms on either side of her body. His breath didn’t reek of the moonshine here, but she could smell rum, spices, and anise. “I don’t have time for this, what do you want?” Emma dropped her voice to a whisper, hiding the way her breath hitched when he leaned in closer.

“I owe you an apology,” Hook whispered in turn. The space between them was fractional, Emma could feel his breath on her cheek, his eyes serious.

“You owe me several. We can arrange an appointment if you’d like them organized.” Ignoring her attempt to push past him, Emma let out an annoyed huff.

“I’m sorry about Graham.” Hook looked away from her, a flash of guilt colored in that disarming blue.

“Why are you sorry? Because you took him to sea? Don’t be. Ruby was happy to go with us; she said that the packs in what’s left of the Enchanted Forest are constantly fighting among themselves or getting killed by ogres. You probably did him a favor.” Emma shrugged, and he opened his mouth to say something more until her fingers met his lips to stop him. “Ruby and him can run all night, she mentioned something about him when you poached our loot.”

“Can you let that go if I say I’m sorry? I was hoping you’d come stomping over and…” His eyes were back on her own, one eyebrow raised as he licked his lips.

“You’re an insufferable idiot. A fool.” Emma threw up her hands, and he pressed a kiss to her knuckles.

“You look lovely tonight, Swan.” Her mouth flew open to retort his insult, but stayed as a round shocked ‘oh’ as she absorbed the compliment instead. Hook’s lips pressed against her own, no hunger but a heavy heat instead. It had been some time since they had laid together, a fire starting low in her stomach as she raised a leg for him to grasp, teeth grazing his lips. His fingers bruised her thigh, and she heard him curse, pulling away with his eyes closed.

“Would you like to go for a walk?” he asked through heavy breaths. She must have looked at him incredulously, because he ran a hand through his hair embarrassed. “I mean, down by the shoreline, or up by the wood? What are you doing?”

Emma rested a hand against his forehead. At his look of confusion, she pulled her hand away. “You don’t have a fever. I’m just confused as to why we would ever go for a walk together. Unless it’s to one of our cabins or to the inn, I don’t -”

He pulled away completely, nodding. “Sorry, love. I’m not myself tonight. Maybe I do have a fever.”

“We can go if you want, I guess. I just...” She reached a hand forward, not understanding the strange reaction he was having. “We don’t really -”

“No, it’s alright Swan. Have a good night.” Hook backed away with a slight bow, heading inside to cheers from who she assumed was his own crew.

Emma returned to The Wing, laying on her bed listening to the waves and the beginning calls of gulls. She heard the soft footfalls of people returning, and then felt the press of someone sitting on the edge of her bed. Looking up, Emma saw a fully disheveled Ruby who was grinning with her eyes bright. Ruby pulled a twig from her hair and flicked it at Emma.

“Oh. Well,” Emma sighed, throwing an arm over her eyes. “Don’t you look smitten.”

“Emma.” Ruby whined, scooting closer.

“Alright. Tell me about it.” Emma turned to face Ruby, as the woman gushed about running with the other wolf. There weren’t any other pack claims here, just them and running free as far as their legs could carry them. Ruby tried to explain things about instincts and how they communicated, but when she couldn’t, Emma got the gist.

“What a cosmic joke,” Emma murmured. Ruby patted her shoulder sympathetically.

“Sometimes I think you like to be by him. Hook, I mean. Not that I mind anymore. They can follow us every full moon as far as I’m concerned.”

“No. They can’t.” Emma shot her a sharp look, and Ruby sighed leaving her alone in her room.

 Another few months dragged by, and Emma purposely tried to avoid crossing The Jolly with mixed results. Then, she purposely sought them out as she felt danger looming on her horizon. They’d been spending time down in the Far South, her skin tanned and hair a bright gold from the sun. The look on Hook’s face when she approached didn’t calm her nerves; his eyes were dark over the steel tankard of whatever he was drinking. He set it aside, wiping his mouth on the back of his sleeve.

“What have I done now, Swan.” He made a motion with his hook for her to sit down.

Emma obliged, and swallowed hard. Squeezing her eyes shut for the embarrassment of what was coming next, she set aside her pride.

“I need a favor.” It dropped from her lips, and Emma hated herself for it. Before he could retort with innuendo, she continued. “I want you to get me into this ‘Circle Meeting’. I seem to be barred.”

He laughed, and shook his head, returning to his drink.

“I need to be in there. I belong in there, and that’s the very reason I’m being barred, besides not having a cock -”

“Lucky that.” Hook smirked at her, leaning back with his legs wide. He sat the empty tankard down and waved for another.

“Is there anyone there that will appeal to reason?” Emma looked at him, watching carefully for a reaction as he shrugged noncommittally.

“I don’t know why you care, Swan. It’s bollocks. The damn thing won’t matter in a few months time when someone breaks the treatise and we all go about our ways again.” He leveled a gaze at her, head cocked, the same careful look as her own mirrored back. Emma tried to keep her face impassive. If she, Omar, and David were right, and they’d created this treatise just to send The Wing’s crew to the bottom of the sea, Hook might be her only ally in this. That was if he could be trusted, and could convince anyone to do anything other than run her through. The only thing she knew about him was the same thing she knew about herself; their interests came first.

“I don’t… I don’t want the trouble. We leave well enough alone, except for running into you somehow, and even then I try to avoid you. I’ve been doing a damn good job of it, too.” Emma sat forward, a hand pushing back her hair as she chewed her lip. “Things have escalated recently. Gotten worse. We’ve been barred from Redwater Sanctuary.”

Hook’s eyebrow shot up and the easy smirk he’d been wearing faded. There was a flash of something akin to concern in his eyes, and it made her skin prickle with hatred. Concern was a prelude to pity. Of all the terrible gifts that could be bestowed, Emma wanted pity less than death. She wanted his pity least of all.

“Oh.” He looked at her, and she saw it there in the flash of his eyes, a flicker of his worry, pity and caring about the situation unfolding. She was sure he was concerned only because of how it could hurt him; she’d been over generous lately with letting him scavenge, and she was one of the few pirates he could easily trade with if he needed something. Emma had felt the same when she’d procured the salve for him when he lay burning of fever.

“I want to make sure I’m not a target.” Her eyes drifted to the floorboards, following the patterns there to avoid seeing Hook’s face.

“Swan, I can’t get you into that meeting. You know I can’t, they’ll kill us both,” he whispered lowly. Emma shot a quick glance at him and he was leaning forward, his hand extended to her as if to touch her shoulder. She sat back, pulling away. “If you need help, or information -”

“I don’t.” The ice in her voice as she snapped had him blinking. “I asked you for help with this, and you could not oblige. I wouldn’t risk it again.” She stood, turning away.

“Swan!” She heard him call after her, felt his fingers brush her own as her feet carried her away from him again. She could hear the pity echoing even in his calls.

 The meeting with the Circle was called a fortnight later, in Corona. The bustling country was an easy central port that boasted fair weather and good ale. It was also renowned for its seedy underbelly that the royal guard overlooked as long as no harm came to its citizens. At first, Killian was under the impression that they’d be visiting the Fuzzy Duckling, a well known bar for thugs and vandals of the area. However, after a brawl that left several crews light handed due to a misunderstanding about a ceramic unicorn, pirates had been disavowed and sent to the city.

They had found home in a bar near their boats, amusingly named The Goat Testicles. They’d even constructed a sort of makeshift room for meetings, so thankful for the business. Apparently, selling a beer called Goat’s Piss hadn’t brought locals banging on their doors, regardless of its fragrant citrus flavoring.

He was only half listening to the treatise being drawn up between the captains, knowing full well that they'd break it within days if not hours, when warm hands stroked the innards of his thighs softly. At first, he thought he'd imagined it, but the quick tug on the laces and a gentle scrape of nails down the dark trail to his cock proved it was all too real. He was too surprised to make a noise until a wet hand gripped him with firm strokes, his cock jumping to attention in the stranger's hands, as he let out a small sigh.

He knew who it was before the flash of blonde locks swinging forward gave her away. Ever resourceful, Swan had not only made it into the meeting, but she'd also made sure she got her mention. Hell, she'd make sure, as always, that she'd stay two steps ahead of any threat by hiding in the mouth of the beast.

"And territorial wise, I want the waters near Agrabah. It's quite a ways to trade through the desert from port, you lot cutting our coffers afterwards is nastiness, even for pirates." A younger newcomer with ruddy ginger hair was speaking, twirling a coin in his heavily tattooed hand. The idiot had given away a large weakness to abuse. Walking goods through a barren desert was already risky, but advertising it to this group? He'd be dead within the fortnight, another part of the turnover this table saw. Another crew lost to their captain’s folly.

Swan swirled her tongue and he let out a grunted aye along with the other men, leaning back with his good hand gripping the table. He bucked into her mouth and was rewarded with her teeth scraping gently against him as she ran a finger along the seam of his sack.

Hook hissed lowly. Swan’s bloody fucking mouth could unravel him with ease; just like this, or on his mouth, neck, or body. Sometimes with just words. He wanted to grip her hair, fucking her mouth while she moaned on his cock, begging for him to give her a taste. He wanted to watch her swallow his seed, to let it burn down her throat. He imagined her fingers deep inside her tight quim, riding her hand in poor imitation of the cock she sucked greedily. He wanted to bite her hard enough to leave violet blooms on pale flesh; to leave firm handprints on soft globes, making it hard for her to sit. He was getting close, and the pace she set her strokes at was brutal, his breathing becoming shallow.

Blackbeard's grumble brought him back to the duality of the situation at hand.

"Alright lads, that's all fin' and good - Now what about that bitch out makin' a mockery of us? I don’ mind a lass on the crew if she were of that persuasion of breeches and pulling 'er own whores, but this cunt and her crew-"

“She leaves well enough alone, but Hera and Zeus forbid that you ever try to steal her treasures or go after that crew of hers,” said a paunchy man with too many rings as he stroked his waxed beard and chewed his pipe. El Pantera, a captain from one of the smaller Island Kingdoms.

Another man spoke up, older and covered in pustules. Hook recognized him as Captain Scabbard, a rotted old rat that ran a skeleton crew on a ship that stunk of turned milk. "No woman should be on a ship t'begin with." He spat a dark yellow wad onto the floor. "Tis bad luck, I say; tis only to shit on the Gods."

Emma was distracted now, bobbing in slow strokes and listening intently, keeping Hook on the edge of his pleasure. He could feel himself seeping precum as she lapped at his slit, and the urge to slam her mouth down on his cock to the hilt was growing overwhelming. His toes curled in his boots.

"What do you suppose we do about her then? She can return my fire three fold, fights like a she demon, and sails off to naught be found until she wants to be." Another young captain whom he had dubbed Babyface shrugged. He'd inherited the position after Captain Durham had died under Navy fire a few months back. He was manipulative behind his innocence, yet cunning enough to have avoided or dissipated several mutinies.

Swan swallowed him all the way to his base like she had read his mind, cheeks hollowed, trying to kill him. The table looked at him expectantly as he let out a strangled grunt. He swallowed thickly, and spoke slowly, with purposeful enunciation.

"She's not a threat, surely, for any of you to be so afraid as to suggest we take care of her?"

The table around him gave scoffs of indignation. Swan rewarded him with a tight squeeze of her mouth and swirl of her tongue that had him closing his eyes and carding his hand through his hair. He pinched the bridge of his nose, opened his eyes, and hoped he could explain his behavior away with the excuse of a headache. Emma edged him away from the brink again and he growled lowly. The headache excuse was partially true, it would just be a different head he’d be referring to.

"Aye. I'm sayin' we should put out the word that she's got gold on 'er 'ead - not only at sea, but in taverns and ports as well." Blackbeard held Hook in a steady gaze, the challenge clear behind his eyes. "I'm saying that she deserves to see her crew swing in the wind before joinin' them."

He felt her bristle and her movements came in firm, fast strokes now. Anger pooled in his belly along with the tight coil in his spine that was growing white hot. He could feel that both the meeting and her torture were coming to an end, and he was grateful for it.

"She deserves to be at this table, mate. Fearsome pirates such as yourselves, scared over the woman you claim is not fit for the seas like she's some porcelain princess, when I left her ship many a time limping away lucky to have my hide." With his voice raising, she hummed and he shifted his legs to open himself wider. What looked like angered fidgeting to everyone else was actually small snaps of his hips as he got closer to his peak. A flush rose in his cheeks as he held back moans of pleasure.

"We all know about the many times that you've left her cabin, Captain." Scabbard smirked at him, his voice oily.

He came down her throat with a low and measured grunt, betraying how good it felt to spill himself against her tongue. The next time they saw each other, he would repay her for this, leaving her cabin again. He took a deep breath and let himself smile in relief, or to their eyes, amusement.

"All to keep my coffers full, I assure you. I'd trade with you dogs, but you're all bite, no bark, no treasures to speak of other than your cowardice."

The table erupted, and he adjusted himself back into his trousers. He leaned back in his chair, and shook his head at the unnoticed whooshing sound of her disappearing, the gray smoke of her magic joining the heavy layer already in the room. Blackbeard was the only one who seemed to notice, eyes narrowing. Killian hid the deep unease that creeped into his stomach. 

“You’d behoov’n yer self to show yer elders some respect boy,” Scabbard spat in Hook’s direction.

Another older pirate with ashy blonde hair in matted dreads, Captain Uly from the frozen seas, spoke up. “Here here! Some of us haff bean sailink before even you young man vere vinkle in your Vahdder’s eyes!”

The ruddy ginger laughed like a donkey’s bray. He looked at Scabbard. “When have you ever shown anyone, including your own dear mum, respect you foul git?” He laughed again, reaching for his mead.

Scabbard leaned forward as quick as a snake and slammed his dagger into the ruddy ginger’s extended hand. He shrieked, looking down at the blade now oozing red, as Scabbard gave the handle a twist and pulled it back out, wiping the blade on his dirty coat. “Men get respect. Boys ‘n doxies ‘n slores get none. All women are slores, sommin’ get paid are bit smarter, not by much. That Swan, well. She’s a slore pretendin’ to be a man.” Satisfied after checking the dagger for blood, Scabbard sheathed it and sat. “Dat’d be the worst kind, ‘n my book.”

Blackbeard shouted and slammed his fist on the table, and Killian gritted his teeth to keep from cutting Scabbard in twain. “We’ll deal with her another time.” He scowled at Killian, who raised a cheeky smirk instead. “For now, let’s plan how a raid would go, and what signals we’d use.” The raid planned was pretty simple. Enemies of the Circle would be scouted and after making sure the biggest number of ships could pursue as a fleet, they’d surround the poor ship in a horseshoe shape with all guns firing. Depending on the ship, loot would be divided, but the loss of an enemy would be even greater, the threat erased for all.

Killian could feel the pit settling in his stomach as they discussed battle tactics for a ship of certain size, with so many guns and so many crew members, possibly fortified with magic.

A ship that sounded very much like The Gilded Wing.

 The Gilded Wing had left long before the others left the harbor to go their separate ways, the other ships falling behind the Jolly as he raced to catch up to Swan. He didn’t care about the Circle or its archaic bullshit and drawn territory lines. The only point that stood out was the target on Emma’s back. This repaid the favor he owed, wiping the slate clean.

Emma in her stubbornness met him on the Jolly’s deck as they approached, The Gilded Wing only a hundred meters away.

“I’m here to give you a warning, Swan,” he said lowly, walking to where she’d appeared in her usual cloud of gray.

“This looks like quite the warning.” Emma jutted her chin up, and stepped toward him. “Did they not tell you, or are you really trying to be that oblivious? It doesn’t suit you Hook.”

“Emma, take your ship and run,” he whispered, and she shook her head at him. “Please -”

A few more steps, and she was an arms length away, anger clearly written across her face. She winced slightly, and the air around them heated unnaturally, her hands glowing. He took a step back, eyes wide.

“You know what the worst part of this is, for me?” Swan murmured into the breeze. “You think I’m this stupid, and I was for trusting you, but I’m not otherwise. You meted down a death sentence on us to save yourself Killian, you selfish -”

“I did no such thing! I’m here to give you a bloody warning because they want you dead; the Jolly is faster -”

She flicked her hand, and a half ring of ships appeared around the Jolly, arranged like a horseshoe around The Gilded Wing. The ripple of shock that went across his face and through the crew brought a confused look to her face.

“You didn’t know.”

Killian felt his brain trying to process, trying to understand what was happening in front of him. Blackbeard had mentioned a powder that made ships disappear, charms placed on sails to make them faster, a paltry excuse given when they needled him about hating magic. Here, they sat bobbing in the water as Emma glared, shouts echoing off hulls as the members of The Wing realized they were revealed. They had her ship surrounded, and Killian could hear the voices of men yelling their readiness to destroy Emma’s home, her pride and joy. Killian’s dread rose into his throat.

Noise erupted, fire blazing as smoke began to waft from the gunwales and swing guns, explosions behind her as smoke lit with every blast. Emma stepped away and drew her scimitar, looking at him with no expression, unmoved by the cacophony. A fire lit on the deck of the ship that sat at the end of the far left side of the horseshoe shape, a huge purple plume of smoke rising. Men shouted, the attack sudden and brutal as forms flew through the smoke, slashing. Even from his vantage, Killian could see more ships falling to strange attacks as The Gilded Wing in front of his ship shimmered like a mirage over the water, the heavy balls of iron falling through the glamor.

The right side of the horseshoe of ships let out a shuddering screech like metal grinding together, and then a boom exploded across the water, men in dinghies fleeing from The Gilded Wing’s onslaught, pouring onto The Jolly as the ships around his steamed, burned, bubbled, and sparked with strange substances. Emma had outwitted them all, a clever ruse straight from the devil himself. Distract the enemy, and attack from both sides like a candle burning on both ends. No doubt a portion of her crew ran along each side they had attacked to meet in the middle after picking over any finds.

The Gilded Wing, the true ship, not its imposter, flanked any who tried to retreat as it fired furiously. Killian shook his head trying to take it in, Emma still standing before him with an implacable stare, ash and ember flying behind her -

“Captain!” The shout from Will wrenched him from his immobility, and Emma used the distraction to disappear. Pulling her cutlass and running through the smoke, Emma avoided Killian’s men, setting a brutal pace through those climbing aboard, but he wrenched her back away from them. She raised her blade to him, flying at him and attacking fiercely without any holding back, unseeing rage and vitriol. Killian was off guard when she disarmed him, cutlass clattering across the deck, but she hesitated just a moment; long enough for Killian to knock her sword away to bring the point of his hook up.

“Do it then. I’m ready." Her eyes blazed like the color of the sky during a hurricane, ferociously churning fire in the pinpricks. She held her chin up and let the point of his hook bite her neck. He briefly wondered why she didn't use magic on him, but the adrenaline coursing through him didn't leave much time for thought. His breath came out in rasped pants, and her skin gleamed with sweat where soot had not settled.

He pushed against her neck a little harder, watching a small dribble of red slip down the pale flesh as it felt like the battle around them slowed. He remembered being in this same position, her blade against his throat while Liam yelled his name. Swan had no Liam, no fierce protector in command or paving the way. She had herself, her crew, her wit, and her magic - that always had to be enough.

She closed her eyes, and her face relaxed, for a moment he thought he was bewitched; her face when contented was angelic, ready for a peace her life never brought. He could make no movement. When no pain came, she opened her eyes again. The fury was gone, replaced by a profound sadness that rattled him. His hook, stable in every battle since his hand was taken by an unworthy Naval toad, trembled. She looked up at him with a sad half smile and he felt like they'd been locked like this for hours instead of seconds, maybe minutes at most.

"Do it, Killian. Please. Let it end." It was a pleaded whisper. He thought it was imagined, this entire moment a dream in which he was lost, but she kissed the curved and bloodied metal, closing her eyes again.

The honesty of her words scared him, and placed him in his own private torment. This creature, this woman. He could no more kill her here than he could raise her to the Heavens and call her the sun.

A shot reverberated and the moment was broken, Swan stumbling backwards holding her side. Red bloomed under her leather belts.

Scabbard’s blackened hands held a pistol, smoke still rising as he threw it aside. "You and that accursed whore of yours can have each other ten different ways in Davy Jones' locker, Hook." Drawing another pistol from a stained coat, he cocked it and aimed it at Hook’s chest. Hook roared, charging, and let Scabbard's round burn through the top of his shoulder blade. He dug his hook deep into Scabbard’s neck, enjoying the gurgling of the man's death rattle.

Looking back, Swan was gone, and this battle was clearly marked for the winners. Swan's ship was already flying through the waters, heading to the new worlds of the East as charted, the Circle’s ships well plundered by her split crew, but not completely picked over.

Blackbeard had limped away, Scabbard’s, Pantera’s, Babyface’s (he'd learned the boy's name was Oliver), and two more of the Circle’s ships floated without their captains, without their loot, and without most of their crew. Hook himself had suffered a grazed shoulder, a few serious wounds crew wise, and two hands down, taken by a sliding cannon. The Gilded Wing had made her point very clear - they didn't need the Circle.

The Jolly Roger’s crew took stock of what was left, hauling a massive prize away (not as good as Swan's, no doubt), and with minimal wear on the Jolly's timbers.

The men celebrated in port a few days later, and Hook purchased a bottle of rum for himself, watching their revelry. Pouring a fourth glass, he threw it back before taking the bottle through winding cobbled paths and down to his quarters, listening only to the sounds of waves breaking against his ship.

Laying in his bunk, he let the rum, the echo of her voice, and the superimposed image of green eyes burning into his take him away somewhere. Hopefully, somewhere he could forget the ache in his chest.

“Killian. Please. Let it end.”

 Emma moved through the market, silks flashing by, spices and meat cooking in the air, the sparkle of jewelry and well polished fruits on display. She could feel him following after her, the smirk on his face meeting her around corners as they weaved through the plaza pretending to ignore each other.

She slipped down an alleyway, listened to hear his steady footfalls, and when she could tell he was close, turned down another alley. He spoke steadily.

"Swan, just where are you leading me?"

She didn't answer. Emma liked to keep him on his toes, or on the hook as it were. She picked up the pace, moving to get as far ahead as she could. Here, deep in the city streets where it became a labyrinth of dead ends and multi-leveled corridors, she wouldn’t have to track back far. Ducking into a beaded curtain, she opened an ornately studded door.

The room was low lit with plush pillows, satin throws, candles, and more - everything she'd asked for.

The girl that had been sent stared at her before curtsying, and Emma examined her. She was beautiful, darker skin and braided hair, her own age, painted in gold and wearing a sheer outfit that shimmered in the light. Her eyes were dark, kohled, and lined with more gold.

"I'm Shari," she said with a low rasp of a voice.

"Hush then. He'll be here soon," Emma said in a quiet whisper. "You'll address him as Jones, and me as Captain Swan. I'll give you directions as we go."

The woman nodded. His footfalls grew closer.

Killian called for her softly, and she stepped out into the alley, sun slanting through cloth and wood layered high on the sandstone buildings. His hand rested on the hilt of his cutlass, body tensed, until he took in the way she moved her hips as she walked toward him. He cocked an eyebrow.

“Captain Hook.” She tilted her chin up, smiling. “I do believe I owe you a debt of gratitude for our… amicable split of the Circle’s forfeited assets.”

"You're in a giving mood, love?" His smile was all teeth.

"I'm not your love." She tugged on his sleeve, pulling him towards the doorway, letting him get close enough to almost feel the touch of her lips before backing away further.

Killian grew too impatient at the doorway, grinding himself into her and ghosting his lips across her exposed collarbone. She let out the smallest noise, between a sigh and a gasp, which had his pants feeling more confining by the second. Her mouth met his, and soon they were kissing passionately, his leg between hers, rocking her against his leathers in those sheer fabric pants the locals favored.

Emma pushed against him, deepening the kiss, and forced him backwards into the beautiful room. She pulled away, her body melting into deeply patterned silks that partitioned the room into sections. He ducked under one to be pulled through another, her body flush against his, her top discarded. He groaned at her exposed breasts, filling his palm with one as he began kneading. His hook shredded the waistband of the gauzy bottoms, exposing a short set of silken undergarments.

He ran a finger along the middle of the undergarment, and they both let out noises, hers a whimper and his a low growl of appreciation. She was so wet already. Another shove from her through a draped wall, and he was falling backwards onto plush cushions that smelled of honey and spice, Emma draping herself over him to kiss his breath away again.

Killian flipped her, licking down her clavicle and shredding more of the sheer garment along her waist, nipping where he exposed. He drifted his hand downwards, eager to feel her again, as a glint flashed in her eyes. She scooted back, away from his probing hand. He was reaching for her when she snapped a manacle cuff on his wrist. He snarled, but then she was on top of him, kissing him roughly, tongue practically pushing thought out of his brain. Another hand came from somewhere and snapped a modified manacle on his hook. He blinked as Emma pulled away, and a woman joined her.

“Thank you, Shari. Raise him so he will be standing on the balls of his feet.”

“Yes, Captain Swan.” The woman whom he did not recognize walked to a tapestry on the wall, pulling it aside to reveal a hand crank. Following with his eyes, he realized it was connected to a pulley system that attached to the ceiling above him. He tried to move, but the slack was already tightening on the heavy chain.

He rose up, and Emma smiled softly at him.

“Don’t be mad at me for this, because I asked around a bit. Apparently, when you got a little too deep in the drink, you told Smee some privately held fantasies. A little bit of drink in him, a little bit of a truth potion I was experimenting with… well, he gave me an idea of this gift.” Her smile grew radiant as she waved her hand. He looked to see his clothes were neatly folded off to the side, leaving him bare.

“Swan, let me down, and I swear I won’t-”

Warm fingers covered in a slick substance rubbed against his cock, and he swallowed his words thickly. The dark eyed woman placed thick floor pillows on all sides of his feet wordlessly and soon, Emma was almost the same height as him, smiling at him with her head cocked.

“I must say though, I was hardly surprised to hear your fantasies. They aren’t shameful. I wish you hadn’t felt the need to hide them away in brothels.” She stroked a long line of the slick fluid, what he now realized must be oil, from the base of his cock, over his hip, and to his ass. “Most men, when truly in tune with themselves, like a consensual bit of play in the rear.”

He began to struggle and felt his ears reddening.

“Swan, I don’t know where you heard this bit, but I swear to you. Let me out of these bloody chains, or I’ll run my hook through that pretty neck of yours -”

“What was it you told me? Ah yes. Take a leap of faith.” She kissed a path down his back, hot breath hitting his ass, causing his cock to twitch. “I know when you’re lying, Killian. So tell me truthfully. Do you want this? Would you like me to explore this with you? I know it’s not just ass play. I’d be taking full control, you’d be at my mercy. Tell me what you want.”

Warm, oiled fingers massaged his ass, gently stroking over his entrance. He swallowed thickly.

“Swan, I…” Her fingers pressed harder, and he rutted against the air in front of his cock. “Yes, alright, yes. Why the bloody fuck not, Emma, please, I-” A finger curled inside of him, and he felt his length go rigid.

Emma waved the woman to kneel in front of him. She slowly began to stretch him, adding fingers slowly, thrusting in and out. He rocked back on her hand, head lolling in delight at just how good it felt. Her hands were soft, fingers long and delicate, hitting spots in he hadn’t felt in years. He groaned when she took her hand away.

Emma whispered something he could not discern, and he felt the skin under his thighs twinge, his body reacting. Breath hitched in his lungs as it felt like something coiled up his legs and against his bobbing member. Velvet lined rope or silken scarves, maybe? No, it drew under his skin, stroking what felt like every nerve and then some.

Magic.

He hissed. He could feel Emma’s concentration, magic flowing from her to him, but then the sensation was over. He felt her movements against his oiled ass, and turned to her. She kissed him, softly this time, tenderly even. He heard a sound similar to his brace being taken off.

"Emma, I -" he didn't finish the thought as she pushed into him.

The catch of a hard member or its ilk in him, slowly burning through his body, had every nerve firing with pleasure. He could only let out a moan, Emma’s hand massaging the curve of his ass as she pushed further. He was dead and this was paradise; he was alive and his back was arching into Emma’s warm body.

Fully seated, she licked his ear lobe and started moving in small thrusts.

"Captain Swan, his cock is weeping. May I?"

Emma grunted and thrust with a jerk. He let out a groan of pure euphoria.

"You may rub yourself on him until you feel his begging is real. After that, it’s up to you how you please him, as long as it brings him close to release."

Killian whimpered.

Heat embraced his cock suddenly, and the slide of wet, delicious friction had him babbling words that he hoped were close to begging. He felt Emma’s light touches, her nips against the back of his neck, and the steady grind of her hips against his ass. Coupled with the woman in front of them, rubbing wet, glorious heat against his length and sucking marks onto his collarbone had him achingly aroused, and he tried to buck forward into the woman’s core.

“Captain Swan, he is trying to take control,” the dark eyed woman said, bending to lap at his slit. He threw his head back as Emma harshly snapped into him.

“I’ll tell you how he likes to be sucked, then. It’s too bad he can’t behave.” From behind him, he felt Emma kick his legs open wide.

“Yes, Captain Swan.” He closed his eyes and tried to steady his breathing. He needed to be in control, to fuck one of them, and he rattled the chains that held his hand and hook. If he could get the mechanism to click -

“Take him fully into your mouth.”

Heat enveloped his cock, tight, and he felt every thought escape with his gasp of breath. Emma was moving in a different rhythm now, faster, as she gave commands.

“Swirl your tongue, harder on the underside.”

“Make sure to put pressure on the vein, see? Listen to the noise he makes, Shari. Poor thing.”

“Hollow your cheeks and suck.”

He was coming undone at the seams, pressure building at the base of his spine, each command and snap into his ass bringing him closer.

“Emma, please, I’m so close.” He felt his cock throbbing, his hips bucking forward. Emma kissed up his neck, and their mouths met. He could feel his balls drawing up, every sensation like a lightning rod. He was so close, so fucking close. Emma smiled against his lips, and with agonizing realization atop overwhelming pleasure, he realized he hadn’t burst in the kneeling woman’s mouth. His eyes widened, and Emma laughed, nipping at his lips. Her magic, damnable fucking magic, held him on the edge of -

“Moan on his cock.”

He let out a scream, the vibration of the woman’s mouth making his toes curl. He writhed, and tried desperately to get his hook undone from the chain again.

“Swan, you infernal witch! Gods, I need to fuck you, I need to come, let me out of this!” He struggled again and she kissed him tenderly on his shoulder blade, smiling mischievously up at him while keeping up her pace.

“I love when you’re like this you know,” she murmured into his skin. “You so rarely let go of control. Happy to take and plunder, but on your terms. Never allowing someone else the chance. Do you know how frustrating that is?” She licked a long trail up his neck, ending in sucking on his earlobe. He struggled again, his body screaming its needs to him, every hair raised. Emma shifted, and he felt for a moment like he couldn’t breathe.

The heat left his cock, with an audible pop. He felt some of the haze in his head clear, and he felt Emma’s device leave him. He shuddered at the sudden emptiness. He could hear both women whispering, and he took a moment to try to bring his body back to the earth. Taking in a lungful of air, he expelled it quickly when he felt a warm palm smack his ass. Looking back, he saw the dark eyed woman, Shari, her gold painted skin pressing against his back. She smiled serenely.

“I’m going to take over for Captain Swan, Jones.” He felt the press of a device, slightly larger than the first, against him. “Captain Swan says this one is enchanted, so take some breaths, OK?”

Killian felt the heat immediately, the easing push into him almost but not quite like a real cock. His eyes fluttered closed, feeling every inch of the sensation, his need to come back with a vengeance. He could feel his ass tightening, his muscles taut and tense, sparks shooting behind his eyelids. Warm hands cupped his face, and he opened his eyes through the haze of ecstasy.

He looked wrecked, and it brought Emma nothing but delight. His eyes were blown wide, and every thrust Shari made had his toes curling and small keening noises leaving his mouth. All Emma could do was kiss him softly, and slowly sink on top of him, one thigh lazily resting against his side, while she kept the other leg planted for balance on a pile of pillows.

When she started to move against him, she could feel the throbbing pulse with every thrust. He let out harsh breaths sometimes coupled with nonsensical half words, occasionally paired with a moan of her name. Watching him lose the careful articulation and eloquence he used with ease brought a rush of heat to her core. Killian felt her own pleasure beginning to bloom from his erratic movements, frantic grinding shifts of his hips to try and distract from his struggles against the chain.

“Are you ready for your real treat, my sweet Sailor?” Emma whispered against the stubble of his cheek. She ran fingers through his hair, watching his face flutter through the pure delight and slight pain of her magic, letting him rise higher and higher with no ceiling. She let out a moan and her nails clawed at his back when he answered with a buck, lazily grinning. She snapped her fingers.

He felt the woman behind him moan, and a second later clamped his eyes shut as the feeling spread. The damn thing inside him was moving, shaking quickly like the earth settling after thunder. Vibration hit that damn sweet spot in his ass that ached from slow thrusts, now a hot pinprick that had him screaming, desperate to feel release.

 Coupled with Emma riding him, now seeking her own pleasure and undoubtedly feeling whatever sensation she’d given him and the hired woman, he was beyond bliss. Nothing had felt this incredible before, his body nothing but pure feeling. Shari pressed against him, nails digging into his shoulders with a warm gush of wetness against the back of his thighs as she gave in.

Emma pushed herself up, now able to wrap both legs around him with the other woman pulling away. He heard the chain being lowered and his feet hit the floor; his immediate reaction was to thrust up, up into her. His eyes shot open, meeting hers.

“Please, please, Emma, please -” With the grind of their hips and his feet planted, it allowed him to fill her so perfectly. He needed to fill her and her body tightened, pulling him -

“I’m coming, oh fuck, Killian, I love it when you beg. I want to hear you -” Her moan ripped through him, wet and tight ripples that tore him into pieces.

“Let me come, Emma. Please, fucking please, Swan.” Keening, the whine was broken by his groan.

Emma bit down on his collarbone, sending him reeling. Every synapse fired deliriously, and when her body clenched on his again and she went limp against his chest, he felt her magic wane in time with her flutters as finally the grip on him stopped. A single thrust and he was undone.

Killian came with a guttural moan, rapturous pleasure coursing through him, lasting for what felt like minutes as he bathed her walls. As he spent the last bit of himself, he realized it was quite possibly the most intense orgasm of his life. His breath came out in ragged pants, and he was sure if it wasn’t, it still had shaved years off his existence.

“That was…” he whispered, slowly and with effort.

“A reward.” She pulled away from him, and waved her hand. The chains fell away, and he stumbled forward onto his knees. The room was still lined with large floor pillows, which he promptly rolled onto, laying on his back to catch his breath. Before he knew it, sleep overtook him.

A short time later, a warm washcloth against his thighs startled him, and he looked down to see the gold painted woman, Shari, softly cleaning his thighs.

“Swan…?” he mumbled, shocked at how low and hoarse his voice sounded.

“I’m sorry, my good sir. She paid me, and said I was to take care of anything else you needed. I can give you a massage if you like, after cleaning you. I can also offer you pistachio cake and honeyed fruit. Or, we can have another round of the pleasures.”

He stayed quiet as she continued her gentle ministrations, contemplating his next move.

“Would you tell me where she went? Do you know?”

“I don’t, sir. Only that she paid me very well, and left quickly.” Her brown eyes met his and she sighed, dropping the rag in the steaming water. “She told me not to say, but she headed in the direction of the Western port.”

He got up quickly on unsteady legs, tugging clothes on in a blur. “Thank you. Here -” He tossed a small purse of coin at her. “For your trouble.”

 He was gone before she could thank him. She opened the bag and counted the silver and gold coins inside it.

The female captain had been right. Give the man a direction, and he’d pay for her words as well, even if they were silver lies. Shari had no idea where the blonde woman had gone; most likely South from her hasty exit towards the market. Men were such fools when enchanted by beautiful women.

Pity. This one was a fool that was also lost in love with one. Shari took her coin and retired for the evening. She wouldn’t need to work for weeks now, and the female captain had left her enchanted play things. She would be amiss if she didn’t spend her time trying them.

#October 26th 2018 #Captain Swan Big Bang #CSBB #CSBB 2018 #Riptide #Courtorderedcake #captain swan #captain swan fanfiction #captain swan au #CS FF #CS FF AU #CS AU #CS AU FF

[scarlette-joel-writing]

Erased Pt. 6

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Requested by: Me

Warnings: Langu- you already know.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7  Part 8  Part 9 Part 10  Part 11  Part 12 Part 13

~

“Are you sure that this is really a good idea?” Wanda asks as she sticks the needle into my arm. The pain of the needle going in doesn’t cause me any pain but the cooling serum that begins to flow through my veins causes me to let out a string of curses as long as War & Peace.

“I don’t think it really matters if it is a good idea, so long as the idea works,” It is dawn. The whole meeting with Steve and everyone happened yesterday and now it is time for us to put the plan into effect. It is time to try and make everything as normal as It can be.

“If it is a good idea then it should work. Hence it should be important if the idea is good or not,” Wanda goes over to my other arm and sticks another needle in and then more serum is being pumped through me.

“FUCK!”

“What the hell is this stuff and why am I injecting it into you?” she asks as she works on injecting a needle full of serum into each of my legs as well.

We are sitting in the middle of my living room on the couch. I had requested to be here instead of in Med Bay considering the fact that I have been down there way too many times since moving here. If I am going to possibly die and make my head explode to save Bucky’s life, I might as well do it in the comfort of my own home.

“What you are injecting into her,” comes a voice from behind Wanda and she turns around to come face to face with Stephen Strange, dressed way down in nothing but some nice slacks and a button up. He comes up behind her to check the vitals in the machine before looking back at Wanda, “is a serum that will allow Y/N to stay cool while she is doing her job. Y/N’s power causes her to use a lot of energy and therefore she creates a lot of heat. If her blood or her body temp becomes too high she could go into cardiac arrest and die. And none of us need that,” Dr. Strange gives me a small smile and a wink and I laugh even though the pain of the serum flowing through my body feels like it is setting it on fire, not cooling it down.

Another thing that I had requested was Dr. Strange. I knew him back before he had all of this great power and before he defeated that one guy with the weird eyes. I knew him when he was the great surgeon. I had been a patient of extreme value to him. He had been fascinated with the way that my brain worked, and he had even opened up my skull a couple of times to take a look at it. Back then my parents believed that I was sick and that I needed to be fixed. Dr. Strange had been the one to tell me that my mind was a miracle. Not a curse. He made me proud to be whom and what I was.

“We are going to need more room than this,” Strange says as he looks around at the couch that I am on. “It is long enough but it isn’t wide enough. We are going to have to move you in and onto the bed. It will give me enough space to be able to lay all of the machines and tubes out,” I am about to protest. To tell him that no one is allowed in my room. But what can I tell a man who has opened up my skull and played with my brain about privacy? There is no privacy.

He motions Wanda to come with him, and one by one he begins to move everything into my room. Into my sanctuary. Machines that will regulate my breathing and my heart beat. Machines that will dull all of my senses so that I can focus. Machines that will give me constant nourishment to keep my strength up and to keep me hydrated. So many things that are going to keep me alive. And so many things that could kill me if anything goes wrong.

“Hey doll,” I hear to my left and I look over to see Bucky stepping off of the elevator. He is alone but I can imagine that the rest of the group will find their way up here eventually. They will find a way to make a spectacle of all of this. “You look like hell,”

“I feel like hell,” I try to laugh through the pain of the truth but he doesn’t seem to be laughing at all. I can feel the temp in the room begin to slowly drop and I can tell that the serum is kicking in. It is almost time.

“You are gonna do great. You are gonna kick some memory ass in there and then when you come out, everything is going to be right with the world. Then we can start training. I will even wake up at 4:30 in the morning for you and we can do it then,” he puts a hand to my cheek, the flesh one, and then frowns. “You are ice cold,”

“It is all part of the plan, Barnes. All part of the plan,” I can hear Strange come out once all of the machines have been moved and hooked up, and motion towards Bucky and me.

“Bring her in. It is ready, and if we don’t start soon she might freeze to death,” Is all that Strange says as he disappears back into my room. There is more noise and more rustling and then Bucky is looking at me.

“You cant walk? You might freeze to death? What the hell are you doing to yourself?’ He asks, but I don’t think that he is really expecting a response. He just leans down and puts one hand under my neck and the other one under my knees as he lifts me off the couch like I am a pillow. I am not a big big person but I am not small either. And I am also pretty much dead weight in his hands. I have to marvel at the strength of the man as he walks me towards my bedroom.

“Put her on the bed. Right there in the middle,” I let the familiar colors of my room surround me as Bucky places me in the middle of my King size bed. Strange continues to bark orders at Bucky, telling him where to stick in needles and plug in electrodes as Strange himself puts the tubes over my ears and in front of my nose. The oxygen machine. Just to make sure. Once I am covered in 26 different electrodes with 7 different IV’s stuck in me, and a tube inserted into my stomach to keep me nourished, I lean back and let my eyes close.

I feel the bed beside me dip and I shoot my hand out to find the hand of Bucky. His hand is warm in mine and it is only after a second that I realize that it is his metal hand. I lace my fingers through his and he does the same, giving me a gentle squeeze that calms me down.

“Don’t leave,” I whisper as I let myself begin to get lost in the minds of 7 billion people. 7 billion people all talking and thinking at once. It is enough to drive any normal person insane. It might work in making me insane.

“I wouldn’t dream of it doll. I will be right here until you come back to me,” I hear him whisper. Good. I am not alone. I am not alone. I can do this. I am not alone. “You aren’t alone,” I hear him repeat back to me.

And then everything I know of the physical world is gone.

It is like nothing that I have ever seen before. It isn’t just a warehouse full of filing cabinets. It isn’t even a world full of filing cabinets. It is so much bigger than that.

It is a web of interlocking segments that bring everything to the center. It is trillions and trillions of wires all connecting with one another. One memory connected to another that is connected to another. Everything is strung together. And it all leads back to the core. To the beginning of consciousness itself. It is the root of all thinking and it Is the root of all thought and it is the center of over 7 billion peoples thoughts and memories and inner most secrets.

I have only ever allowed myself to work on one person at a time. Maybe two or three depending on the situation. But to stand in the middle of an entire worlds thoughts is something that I never dreamed possible.  It is the definition of unorganized and also completely logical. It is everything and nothing all at once. It is so many different versions of the same exact memort all playing at once. It is every single memory in existence playing at once.

It is noise and it is chaos. But there is also a numbing silence to it as well.

The power that I have here. The power that I possess in this moment is more than anything that anyone could ever think of.

To be able to control anyone. Everyone. To influence the most powerful minds in the world. To cause war or create peace. Bring an end to famine with a simple trick of the mind. To have a whole country, whole continent, whole world bow down at the feet of one person. To influence an entire race or religion. To have the type of control that I have in this moment.

It is terrifying to think what would happen with this type of power if it were to get into the wrong hands. If it were to be used for evil instead of good. The thought makes me want to puke.

But that is not why I am here. I am not here to reflect on the power that I hold and the magnitude of responsibility that I carry to keep an entire world safe. I am here for Bucky. I have to find very specific memories and I don’t have a lot of time to do it.

I need to search for people who have any memory of the winter soldier and I need to erase it. Not just hydra. Anyone. They cant know him. If they know him, Hydra knows him. And then we need to find people who have that specific code memorized and we have to erase that as well.

Our winter soldier will become a ghost once more. But for a completely different reason this time.

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@jacks-on-krack @tbetz0341 @haleypearce @buckybarnesappreciationsociety @zestygingergirl @geeksareunique @jemjem-chan @zohoffman  

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky imagine #avenger #avengers #saving #writing #multipart #part 6 #love #romance #kindaromanceifyoulookatitright #sebastian stan #marvel