Emma Swan has more than enough to deal with. For one, her son believes the entire town of Storybrooke is cursed. She definitely doesn’t have time for the mysterious pawnbroker, Killian Jones, even if Henry insists that he’s the prince she’s meant to be with. Cursed!Killian AU
Thank you so much to @foundmyhome for editing this!
Even though Emma had seen the whole thing, she couldn’t believe what had just happened. Crouched at her son’s side, she couldn’t stop thinking of the last five minutes, couldn’t stop wondering if she could have done something differently. She relived it in slow motion, how they’d finally made it through Pan’s barrier and into Skull Rock only to see Henry standing with him. She’d tried, they’d all tried, to convince Henry that Pan’s lies about magic were just that. Lies.
He hadn’t believed them. She couldn’t understand what Pan had done or said to make Henry trust him over the pleading of his parents, but despite their desperate cries, Henry had done exactly what Pan wanted. He’d used the magic Pan had loaned him to rip his own heart from his chest and plunged it into Pan’s, a cold wind blasting out from the teen just as Henry dropped to the floor.
Emma only spared a brief look at the smug grin on Pan’s face, seeing it only for a second before she ran to her son’s side, her knees skidding on the rough floor when she collapsed down beside Henry and started to shake his shoulder as though that would be enough to bring him back.
“Oh God,” she said, her voice breaking when Henry showed no signs of waking up. “He isn’t… He’s just unconscious, isn’t he?”
because that song “heathens” has such a nice dark captain swan vibe.
She could feel it ripple under her skin, the magic coursing through her. It waited only to be unleashed, pulling at its tether.
“Easy, Swan,” his voice said the cold tip of his blade against her throat. He was an expert with such a weapon, one small flick of his wrist and she’d bleed out.
She wondered idly who would fall first if she let go. Something flickered across his gaze like he could read the thought in her mind. He had seen it before, had watched the power spring from her and topple empires. Once he had stood in awe of it, but now it was the press of steel and that smirk he knew she hated.
It made her want to strike him down just to knock his smug look off his face. Then again, as she leaned just a little further into sharp tip feeling a thin trickle of blood as it kissed into her skin, she wondered if she didn’t enjoy it too; the stalemate, the tension.
“What’s wrong, Captain?” she murmured seeing his hand tighten his grip. “Can’t hurt a girl?”
“You’re hardly just a girl, love,” he said moving forward and forcing her to fall back a step until she hit the wall. The feeling bringing one particular memory to mind: his hand moving hungrily over her as he pressed back into a different wall his breath hot on her neck. The hurried way they had tried to claim the other, burning wildly and consuming everything around them. The feel of him against her, the heat of his skin, the way she had struggled for breath as her fingers clawed at him.
And now he swayed a little closer and she actually hoped he might kiss her. Just one parting shot for the road. Her eyes flicked to his lips, and they both paused just short, that one heartbeat of anticipation, the torture they both loved. But the door burst open and they both jerked back as guards began to fill the room.
They were guards of the king she’d heard had finally managed to tame the pirate before her. She knew of the rumors that he was now little more than a guard dog bent under the will of a malevolent master. Trapped. Something else they suddenly had in common. She was outnumbered and pinned to the wall, his sword like the pin to a butterfly on a board.
“Why are you doing this?” she asked him looking over his shoulder to the others behind him. What could have made him fold to the very kingdom he so hated, the one against which he had once spoken words filled with fire to her across her pillow.
He shrugged lazily, as if nothing, not the words or those nights had been true. “You know the answer to that. There’s a reward,” he told her sounding almost bored, as if her capture wasn’t a death sentence.
She frowned, he was lying she could hear it. Hell, if he had wanted that reward there were multiple occasions he could have turned her over. Glancing at the sword in his hand she realized if he had really wanted to capture her he wouldn’t have come so unprepared. Something in his eyes seemed to beg her to understand, to put the pieces together.
She slowly lifted her hand seeing his gaze follow the motion. He opened his mouth as if to say something, perhaps a warning. But before he could, she twisted her wrist and the torches around them exploded, sparks raining over them.
For one perfect moment they were cloaked in fire, and then the room was plunged into darkness. She ducked, throwing the sword from her, the blood left on his blade all of herself she could give him this time.
The guards scrambled in the dark, but darkness was where she thrived and she evaded them easily, tearing down the corridor. The last thing she heard as she ran was his voice, and the sound of him calling her name echoing off the stones.
She had no doubt they would cross paths again. Notorious pirate and wayward sorceress. It was like some dark fairytale, not fully written yet. She gripped the amulet in her hand, the one that would break a curse, a small trinket for the overwhelming risk entering this particular castle had been.
And she wondered if perhaps she’d be back sooner rather than later to see if she could break whatever held him in this place. After all, she thought with a smirk as she disappeared in a cloud of smoke just beyond the outer wall, she probably owed him for tonight. Really, repaying the favor was the least she could do, and she knew how he felt about gratitude. Maybe she was more than a little tempted to find out what they might do together next if she did.
Killian has a soft spot for blondes in yellow rain coats and cut-off jean shorts. Emma has a soft spot for punching country boys with dirty mouths. [Tumblr | AO3]
And when he’d said “go out with me” all soft and reassuring and hopeful, it had nearly broken her resolve. Because Emma knew he wasn’t just asking her to dinner or to the movies, he was asking her to give him so much more.
To hold hands, and share slow kisses, and press close together underneath Emma’s worn sheets.
To take Henry to daycare, and to the park, and to Granny’s for breakfast.
To buy a house, and say “yes,” and to get married.
To watch their kids grow up.
It wasn’t just “go out with me” – it was “make a life with me” and “trust me” and “love me.”
Summary: Emma Swan just wants to be loved for who she is, and not because someone feels obligated to love her. It’s just her luck that she has a soulmate somewhere out there, while she’s already in love with someone else. Rating: M (for moderate sexual content)
This story is my OUAT Positivity Gift Exchange present for @ilerya82! It was so lovely getting to know you this past month, and I love how much we have in common when it comes to our love of OUAT (and gummy candy and fall OMGGG). You mentioned a bunch of tropes you liked, including one of my all-time favorites (friends to lovers) and one I hadn’t taken a stab at before (soulmates). I really hope that you enjoy this story; I had a lot of fun writing it, so I hope it’s at least as fun for you to receive it!
Emma Swan felt like she couldn’t escape soulmates.
There was Mary Margaret, her adoptive sister, who met her soulmate David in college when she was dared to steal something from Regina’s dorm room and accidentally broke into his instead. There was also Regina, whose mother’s classist attitude meant that she didn’t feel comfortable openly dating her soulmate Robin, whom she’d met on the first day of freshman year, until they’d all graduated and she wasn’t dependent on her mother’s money. There was Ruby, who’d joyously slept with virtually every single person she met, and then just as joyously enjoyed monogamy when she met her soulmate Dorothy. There were even Mulan, Aurora, and Phillip, who’d made the news more than once as one of the few examples of polyamorous soulmates willing to go public.
Author’s note: This chapter comes with a couple of warnings. It might be the darkest thing I’ve ever written, but since extreme darkness squicks me out, I think this is reasonable considering the universe. So graphic violence and character death, FYI. I think it ends on a hopeful note though. Enjoy!
Summary: She is an Amazon. He is Greek. She is a princess. He is captured in battle. An ancient Amazonian tradition brings them together but their love is forbidden. This is their story.
Killian grasped her elbow, gently
pulling Emma into his arms. Dressed, cloaks tied at the neck, lightly
armed, he needed to hold her one last time before they took this
plunge. Needed to feel her softness, her love. Emma seemed to share
his yearning, clinging to him tightly. The night was not as dark as
they would have wished, the waxing moon dangerously close to being
full. There was nothing for it; they needed to escape. Now.
“I love you,” he said hoarsely, his
throat threatening to close up. The mere act of leaving put her and
their child in danger and it was killing him. “No matter what
happens, know that I will always
love you, Emma.”
Tears stung her
eyes, arms tightening around his neck. “Don’t,” she pleaded.
“Don’t say goodbye.”
She was fighting so
hard to be strong; he never loved her more than in that moment.
Tenderly, he lifted her chin. “I made you a promise, Princess. I
intend to keep it.”
“You better.”
He smiled. “I
have no doubt you’ll march down to the Underworld and flog me if I do
not.”
Summary: CIA hacker Emma Swan is paired up with MI6 agents Liam and Killian Jones on a dangerous mission to track down an ex-spy who’s hunting and killing agents from both countries. She thinks she has all the information they need to catch the defector, but sometimes the past is buried where even her expert computer skills can’t uncover.
A/N:It’s finished! Aaaaaahhhhh! Here you go! Thank you, everyone, for sticking with me on this awesome and wild ride! I really enjoyed dreaming up this story, and had a great time writing it, but all good things must come to an end. I hope this helps close things off, I know I left it a little… uh… uncertain? last chapter. Please let me know what you think, reviews feed my soul.
Cheerleading credit: @icecubelotr44, who encouraged me to write this from the start even when I wouldn’t tell her anything about it besides for the Kabul line. Thank you!
A rhythmic beeping woke
him, pulling him slowly from under the thick weight of sleep. There was
something on his cheeks, rubbery plastic covering his mouth and nose, a steady
puff of cool air across his face. He blinked his eyes open, the lights
low in the room but still too bright, cutting straight into his eyes, setting
off a pulsing beat of pain against the inside of his head.
“One second, I’ll get
that,” he heard someone say quietly. He waited, the heaviness of sleep
trying to tug him back under. A click from somewhere on his right, and
when he opened his eyes again, the room was darker, only a soft glow lighting
the area around his bed.
He looked around slowly,
trying to find the source of the beeping that persisted despite the new
darkness. Monitors of all kinds, computers with tubes, wires, electric
leads, were on his left, numbers, letters, flashing across the screen, but he
didn’t have enough energy to try and decipher them.
“Welcome back,” the same
quiet voice said, from the other side. He turned his head, wincing at the
pain that flared through his skull with the movement.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, LAURIE aka @disastergirl !!!! I hope it is absolutely fantastic because you are incredible and the sweetest and deserve all the best!!!
to
celebrate, here’s a little bit of a modern AU based on 11:11 by
Arkells. I just loved the imagery of the song and couldn’t get the idea
of CS with it out of my head. (couldn’t get the song out, either…but
it’s cute!)
Hope you have a beautiful day, just like you!!!!
It maybe wasn’t the classiest place, but there was a reason Killian kept coming back to that bar: it wasn’t a dump, it had good music, and, on the nights he felt like company, he was more apt to find someone to his liking there than he would at a higher-end joint.
Tonight, though, he was content to people watch. It was also good for that.
On rock nights, there were any number of metalheads raging, and they often put his modest amount of eyeliner to shame.
On electronic nights, he swore he saw colors he didn’t know existed—and some of the more strung-out patrons probably did, too.
Even on nights like tonight, with a nondescript Northern European-looking deejay spinning remixes, he could see all manner of people out for a night on the town: some meeting friends, some making friends.
In particular, one set of girls had caught his eye. They were near the stage, attention often diverting to the deejay, who kept winking at them. One was brunette and covered in red; the other was blonde and wearing a crown and a black dress. The brunette had clearly dragged her friend out, but they seemed to be having fun, laughing and dancing. He nursed his rum and tried to look elsewhere, to catch something else of interest in the crowd, but his eyes kept going back to her.
Eventually, the brunette dragged the blonde off the floor and to the other side of the U-shaped bar, taking seats across from him as they placed their drink order. The blonde caught her breath while the brunette pulled out her phone. He couldn’t help but hear the lass’s shout.
“Ahh, it’s 11:11! Emma, you have to make a wish!”
“Ruby, no.”
“But it’s your birthday!”
That exact phrase had been pulled on Emma no more than three times tonight. Apparently, because it’s your birthday was reason enough to get dolled up, wear a silly plastic tiara, and get dragged to the club where Ruby’s boyfriend was currently deejaying. It’s not that she wasn’t having fun, but she would have been equally content to stay in with some pizza and pastries and drink wine until they sobbed over The Notebook.
“Ugh, fine. I wish I’d stayed home tonight!”
“That’s not how it works and you know it,” she admonished as their shots arrived. “Here,” she said as she forced one of the glasses into Emma’s hand before lifting hers in a toast. “To birthday wishes!”
Emma tipped her head back and downed the shot—birthday cake-flavored, of course—and kept her eyes shut as she swallowed. She’d never tell Ruby, but she did make a wish.
He’d been keeping it in since they’d both come back from the Underworld, for her sake. He didn’t want to worry her, especially not after all they’d been through.
But when she turned off the lights for the first time, shrouding the both of them in an inky darkness, he couldn’t help the involuntary shudder.
He wasn’t scared of the dark because it was dark. He was scared because he knew the dark, and the dark seemed to know him, too. He’d flirted with darkness all too often in his past, then immersed himself in it in his present.
And then.
The darkness had seemed to laugh at him, taunt him, in Hades’ lair. As much as he’d tried to forget it, he remembered every minute he’d spent down there. Every ribbon of pain searing his body, every time he’d squeezed his eyes tightly shut only to find the darkness waiting for him there too. Most of the bruises had healed – Emma’s magic and Belle’s ointments had worked like a charm. But the memories and experiences of his torture left a stain on him he feared would never fade.
He felt the first tear slide out before he could catch it, and then another. And another.
Even though there was no light in the room, she still knew something was wrong.
He felt her warm hand slip into his. “Killian?”
He didn’t trust himself to speak with the ocean of emotions throbbing just underneath his throat. So he just leaned onto her shoulder, buried his face into her curls, and let everything go.
When the last sob coursed through his body, and he was finally able to get his hands to stop shaking, he grew still, biting his lip, too afraid to move.
But she wasn’t.
She cupped his chin in her hands and brought his face up to hers. The moonlight illuminated her silhouette just enough for him to see not only concern, but understanding reflected in her eyes. Silent tears streamed down her face as she pulled him closer and somehow knew exactly what two words to say.
The message blinked back at her as soon as Emma turned on her phone. She’d forgotten to charge it in the morning before running after Storybrooke’s latest crisis (Pongo had run off) pretty much all day. While Pongo had been successfully returned to his owner, the chase hadn’t been easy, which meant that Emma’s phone had died somewhere along the mad dash through the town streets.
She opened the texts first.
Swan. Lunch break. Granny’s?
It’s been two minutes. No response. Did I do this right?
I’m calling you. One sex.
SEC. ONE SEC. BLOODY TALKING PHONE.
She paused in the stream of messages to open his voicemail.
“Swan, it’s Killian. I’ll be at Granny’s at twelve if you’re not still chasing that infernal animal all over town. I tried sending you a few word messages, not sure if you got them.” A break. “What is it, David? Yes, it’s Emma on the talking apparatus. Little busy.” His voice returned. “Ah. Anyway, I’ll be here if you can catch a break. See you later, love.”
Emma was just about to put the phone down when she heard Killian’s voice start up again.
“Okay, she should be here in a little while. Everyone in your positions. You put the ring with the onion rings? David, Snow, in the corner over there, and Henry…”
Emma’s heart skipped a beat.
There was a scuffle on the other end of the line, as if Killian had just realized what had happened. A sharp whooshing sound as he yanked the phone upwards. “Bloody hell! It’s still going? I said goodbye and everything! Well…”
Emma heard the telltale clatter of feet on his end that meant he was pacing, thinking. Then his voice returned, an octave higher than normal.
“See you at Granny’s, Swan!”
The voicemail cut off. Emma put the phone down for a second, and waited for her heart to start racing.
For some reason, it didn’t. Maybe because she’d been waiting for this moment for so long, she wasn’t afraid of it anymore. Maybe she never had been afraid of it.
Just before she made her way to the diner, for what might be the best lunch break of her life, Emma checked the messages underneath the voicemail.
Come when you can. See you soon.
Oh, and Swan?
Try not to check your voicemail if you can help it?
I decided to post a part two, of the morning after, based on a prompt from @dmarien who wanted Emma snuggled with Killian and really opening up about her feelings. Fluff and Smut. Thank you to the one and only @laschatzi for your beta skills and your encouragement!
The next morning Emma woke to Killian gently nudging her arm. “Morning,” she mumbled in a sleep filled voice. “What time is it?”
“It’s only six love, I can’t sleep anymore. I just didn’t want to alarm you if I wasn’t here when you woke,” he answered, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.
A sweet smile broke through her groggy haze. His thoughtfulness would never cease to amaze her. “Thank you,” she whispered, then gave him a peck on his lips.
Killian made to get up from the bed, but Emma threw her hand out to grab at his arm, “Where are you running off to?” she asked. “Stay and snuggle.”
“Just for a bit, love, then I want to get some food in you, and since you have none, I’ll be running out for a bit,” he spoke quietly. Killian laid back down and let Emma snuggle into him.
Squirming so she could fully settle into the safe haven of his arms, she felt relaxation sweep over her as he rubbed soothing circles to her back. Emma breathed in the fresh scent of her boyfriend, and let it comfort her. She was out within five minutes.
Killian delicately pulled away from her so he wouldn’t rouse her again, then he bundled her in the comforter, and kissed her on the cheek. Having showered the night before, he brushed, dressed in dark blue jeans and a black henley (clothes he’d purchased before his untimely death), and got ready to go grab breakfast.
As Killian strolled down Storybrooke’s main street he saw the prince locking up the Sheriff’s station. “Morning, Dave,” he greeted his friend.
“Morning, what has you up and out this early in the morning,” David asked conversationally.
“Your daughter’s lack of food in the house,” he replied, scratching that spot behind his ear. He wasn’t quite sure if the prince and the bandit knew that he would be staying with their daughter on a permanent basis. May as well just get it out there, he thought.
It All Starts With a Dance 