#Cssns

[cssns]

The FINAL YEAR of the Captain Swan Supernatural Summer is behind us, so it's time for the CSSNS24 Event Roundup!!!

Does anyone else need a min? I know I do...

Before we get to the roundup itself, I have to give the LOUDEST OF SHOUT OUTS and GROUP HUG to the team of mods - @winterbaby89 @jrob64 @stahlop and @ultraluckycatnd - who helped me EVERY STEP OF THE WAY!!! This event absolutely wouldn't have happened without them and I'm sooooo grateful that they stepped up to the plate to make this final event a success!!! Thank you all soooo much, ladies!!!!

Also as part of this final roundup, I want to share all the links to all the other event roundups that have been reblogged the last few weeks. This has been an PHENOMENAL ride over all these years and I'm so grateful for all the love and support y'all have given it!! And now, all of the fics and art from all of the years will be in one place!!

CSSNS18

CSSNS19

CSSNS20

CSSNS21

CSSNS22

CSSNS23

Thank you all again for EVERYTHING all these years!!! Its been an honor and privilege to man the helm for most of these years, but it certainly wouldn't have lasted as long as it has without the contributions of all the participants and the enthusiasm of the audience!!!! So thank you all from the bottom of my heart!!!

And now, on to the roundup!!!! Under the cut, unless Tumblr ate it.

I opened us up this year on July 2 with the first of two contributions I prepared for this final event. The Arena was a short and - kinda, maybe, not so much overall, but def by the end - sweet werewolf oneshot with breathtaking artwork by @motherkatereloyshipper !!!

On Tumblr

On ao3

On July 5, @exhaustedpirate posted a not-so-short and extra sexy werewolf fic, In Your Moonlit Eyes, with wonderful artwork by @thejollyroger-writer.

On Tumblr

On ao3

On July 7, @whatevenisthisbloganymore posted the first chapter of a fae fic, Where Idle Feet Wander. Princess Emma of the EF finds herself in the Fae lands and needs help to return home. The first ch was fantastic and I can't wait to see where the journey takes us!

On ao3

On July 9, @jrob64 posted the first chapter of her ghost hunter Killian fic, Ghosted, with artwork provided by yours truly, manips of Neal and Liam courtesy of @motherkatereloyshipper! Now complete with five chapters, Joni took us on QUITE a spooky ride!! Don't read before going to bed at night!!!

Ch1 on Tumblr

On ao3

On July 13, @grimmswan updated both of her fics from last year, Dracula in Storybrooke and Love Bites (But So Do I). Both of these fics are SO MUCH FUN and we are getting very close to their conclusions!!

Dracula in Storybrooke on Tumblr on ao3

Love Bites on Tumblr on ao3

On July 14 @anmylica posted an update to last years fic, Fly With the Black Swan, her alternate telling of the Dark Swan arc. Now three chs in, this is an absolutely beautiful tale so far and I can't wait for more of it!!! Artwork by @zaharadessert

On ao3

On July 15, @theartofdreaming1 posted original artwork for the event featuring mermaid Emma!!! Absolutely beautiful work brought me to tears!!

On July 17, @mie779 posted an alternative take on episode 3x17 The Jolly Roger featuring merman Killian!! Don't Kiss and Tail, a fantastic and utterly delightful what if fic!!! Lovely banner by @iamstartraveller776.

On Tumblr

On ao3

On July 17, @goforlaunchcee updated last year's fic, Smoke and Mirrors, with absolutely perfect artwork by @piinfeathers!! A ghost/witch story, it's an absolute HOOT and I'm always so happy when she updates!! Now up to ch7.

On Tumblr

On ao3

On July 19, @snowbellewells posted the first of her two offerings for this year's event, On Wings of Storm, with magnificent artwork by @motherkatereloyshipper !!! A beautiful one shot that left me in tears of joy!!

On Tumblr

On ao3

On July 25, @laianely posted the first chapter of her crime mystery No Rest for the Immortals with artwork by @captainswan-kellie (x) and herself (x). A murder mystery featuring vampire Killian, I am BESIDE myself every time she updates. Now on ch7.

On Tumblr

On ao3

On July 27, @xarandomdreamx posted the first chapter of her fic, The Kiss of Life with beautiful artwork provided by @motherkatereloyshipper!! Ohhh, she killed me sharing snippets on discord and the whole chapter did not disappoint!!!! Cannot wait for more of this!!!

On Tumblr

On ao3

On Aug 4, I posted my second fic for the event, Return to Me, again with stunning artwork by @motherkatereloyshipper !! Since the whole purpose of this event was to bump up the number of werewolf and vampire CS fics, and I'd already posted a werewolf fic this year, I came up with a fic that I thought the original Dracula was kinda about. Turns out that I was very wrong. But anyway, it was a lot of fun to write.

On Tumblr

On ao3

On Aug 6, @belovedcreation posted the first chapter of an epic werewolf fic, Can I Be Your Werewolf? featuring lovely artwork from @mie779!! 33 chapters that she just finished posting TODAY, it was an awesome ride from start to finish!!!

On Tumblr

On ao3

On Aug 8, @everything-person shared with us a smorgasbord of ideas that she came up with, but real life intervened and she wasn't able to write full fics for them. HOWEVER, she did make art for them all and shared a snippet of where she wanted to go with each one. Each one was absolutely fantastic and I hope there will come a day when she is able to write the fics and share them with us!!

On Tumblr

On Aug 10, @jonesfandomfanatic posted the first two chs of her fic, Into the Parallel. Now on ch6 of 7, this is an incredible time travel/realm jumper fic that I am absolutely in love with!!!

On Tumblr

On ao3

On Aug 16, @exhaustedpirate posted her second fic of the event, Haunted By the Ghost of You, again with beautiful artwork by @thejollyroger-writer. The first chapter was lovely and heartbreaking in equal measure and I cannot wait to see the happy ending she has promised me will happen. Someday...

On Tumblr

On ao3

On Aug 21, @snowbellewells submitted her second fic of the event, For All Life and For All Time, this fic actually inspired by Dracula. The first of three chs is currently up and I cannot wait to see more of it!!!

On Tumblr

On ao3

On Aug 22, @hollyethecurious posted the first chapter of Once Upon a Grimm, her incredible fic using the lore and some storylines of the TV series Grimm featuring Once characters. @eastwesthomeisbest provided the gorgeous artwork!! We are now two chs in and I can already tell, we are in for a really fun ride!!!

On Tumblr

On ao3

On Aug 24, @wyntereyez posted a second fic to her series Bats In the Belfry. This year's fic, Wool of Bat and Tongue of Dog is a MC and a fantastic follow-up to A Little Batty from last year!!! Artwork by @jrob64 .

On Tumblr

On ao3

On Aug 25, @cocohook38 posted her artwork for last years fic by @iamstartraveller776 To Cleave Destiny. We only have the first ch of the fic posted, but it's amazing already and Jules artwork just gives me chills!!!

Artwork post on Tumblr

Fic on ao3

On Aug 26, @eastwesthomeisbest posted a series of manips of Emma Dressed in Blood. Literally took my breath away!!! Gorgeously creepy!!!

On Tumblr

On Aug 29, @zaharadessert posted the Prologue of her fic, Forget Me Not, with a lovely moodboard made by @exhaustedpirate . This first chapter sets up quite a mystery and I can't wait to see where she goes with this!!!

On Tumblr

On ao3

On Aug 30, @deckerstarblanche posted the final chapter of last year's fic, An Offer She Can't Refuse, with artwork by @undercaffinatednightmare. A super sexy Omegaverse fic, I was soooo thrilled she came back to give CS the happy ending they deserve!!!

On Tumblr

On ao3

Our last fic of the event, Scattered Earth (Mortua Terra), posted just yesterday. Real life intruded and kept @dykelilypage from finishing her fic until last week, but I told her that if she could get it in before I posted the roundup, I'd still include it, and boy did she deliver!!! The fic was absolutely incredible!!! Supernatural investigative reporters Emma Swan and Killian Jones team up to solve a mystery. Utterly perfect artwork done by @eastwesthomeisbest

On Tumblr

On ao3

Well, that's it, y'all!! Our FINAL CSSNS has come to an end!!

Everyone take a moment, take a deep breath, and join me in expressing your appreciation to all the participants this year and over the last six for giving us such PHENOMENAL, INCREDIBLE, FANTASTIC supernatural stories!!! There are still many fics from past years that the authors are still active in fandom and plan on continuing whenever they get a chance. And to that end, this blog is not going anywhere. Whenever an update to a fic posts, I'll be right here to read, flail, and reblog.

Until then, y'all!!!

[eastwesthomeisbest]

Emma Dressed in Blood

A ghost story inspired by the "Anna Dressed in Blood" book series by Kendare Blake.

For @cssns 2024 event

@kmomof4 @snowbellewells @lifeinahole27 @cocohook38 @ilovemesomekillianjones @teamhook @resident-of-storybrooke

[wyntereyez]

Wool of bat and tongue of dog

Thanks to @jrob64 for the banner! It's perfect.

Here's the first part of my @cssns contribution. It was supposed to be a one-shot, but thanks to me being a terminal procrastinator combined with a very busy two weeks at work, my brain can't word very well at the moment.

Part One

The door to the Storybrooke Bat Rehabilitation Center was unlocked.

Emma immediately went on the alert. Mary Margaret had left over an hour ago, and she’d never have forgotten to lock the door behind her. After Walsh and the events of the previous month, Emma had taken to bringing her gun with her. She could see Mary Maragaret’s frown whenever she spotted it, but Emma refused to be alone without it. 

Not when she was a potential target for the supernatural.

And now, it looked like her fears were well-founded, because there was something inside the building that definitely wasn’t a bat. Emma had inched the door open, holding her breath so she could listen. She could hear something moving in the lobby, by the reception desk.

A deep, resonating growl that made a primal part of Emma want to scream and flee. Her grip tightened on the gun, and she started to raise it.

Then an annoyed chittering followed, which was interrupted by a yip of indignation. Supernatural, all right, but familiar.

Emma holstered the pistol and stepped inside.

A massive wolf was crouched next to the desk, eyes locked on the large fruit bat perched on the edge. The bat raised his head and made delighted squeaks, and the wolf offered a wag of the tail before turning her snarling muzzle back to the bat.

“No supernatural turf wars before I’ve had my coffee,” Emma grumbled. She picked Killian up and plopped him down atop the startled Ruby’s back, then headed towards the breakroom. Ruby padded along after, Killian clinging to her shoulders for dear life.

They both waited patiently as Emma brewed a pot of coffee. While she waited, she grabbed the fruit bowl from the fridge and offered it to Killian, who daintily grabbed a slice of banana and half a strawberry. Ruby’s tongue flicked out, snatching two melon cubes and getting saliva all over the fruit, making Killian shriek in indignation. Emma sighed. “Can we use human words now, please?”

The fruit bat clumsily pulled himself to Ruby’s side, then released his grip on her fur. If he’d been a normal crippled bat, Emma would have dove to rescue him. But the bat never hit the ground; instead, a leather-clad man crouched next to the massive wolf.

Ruby licked his face, smearing melon and saliva on his cheek. Killian sputtered, and she trotted off, making a noise that sounded suspiciously like laughter.

“How’d you piss her off this time?” Emma asked as she added cream and sugar to her coffee.

“What makes you think I’m responsible, Swan?” Killian pouted as he straightened. His hook gleamed in the fluorescent light.

“You turned into something small, helpless, and cute to argue with her,” Emma pointed out. 

“Which wasn’t enough to prevent me from being angry with you,” Ruby said as she re-entered the break room on two legs.

Now that Emma was in on her secret, Ruby had taken to leaving spare clothes at the Belfry in case of unexpected transformations. She returned shortly in human form, wearing a red T-shirt and black leggings. Her feet were bare, toes caked with dirt from her run. She made a beeline for the coffee pot.

“You’re late tonight,” Ruby commented. “Did something happen?”

“I spent all day at the Town Hall.” Emma couldn’t hold back her groan. “You wouldn’t think it would be so difficult to select an interim mayor. They just need someone to hold the position until an election can be held.”

The mayor had been found dead of a heart attack in his office two days previous, throwing the city council into an uproar. It was a headache that Emma really didn’t need. Especially since there was one member of the council famous for disagreeing with everything, and he’d loudly shot down every candidate. Several of the city council members were friends of his, and tended to follow his lead, which led to deadlocked votes. “He’s going to drive me insane,” Emma sighed.

“Leroy?” Ruby hazarded.

“Yep. Had an argument for everything. By the time the meeting was called, the council still hadn’t chosen anyone, and I almost went to the Rabbit Hole instead of coming here.”

“Sounds worse than vampire politics,” Killian snorted. “Though I imagine there’s less blood.”

“You’d be surprised,” Emma slumped into a chair, her exhaustion finally getting to her. “So what were you two fighting about?” 

Killian and Ruby exchanged glances. “A deer,” they said in unison. 

Emma rubbed the bridge of her nose, already sorry she asked. This was going to add to her headache. “And why was this particular deer so important? We’re surrounded by woods, there are hundreds of them around.

“I was hunting it, of course. A vampire can’t live on strawberries alone. And deer’s blood can sustain me for more than a week.”

“You didn’t have to choose my prey!” Ruby’s voice had developed a snarl not unlike her wolf’s vocalizations. “I’d been stalking that deer for more than an hour!”

“It was the only deer I’d scented for miles,” Killian defended. “And unlike you, I need live prey.”

Emma tensed, suddenly reminded that she was dealing with two supernatural predators. She reminded herself she’d seen Killian in bat form with his face buried up to his eyes in fruit, and that she’d once half-carried a drunken Ruby home. They were predators, but they had softer sides. Hell, she’d known Ruby since high school.

Ruby scowled and turned the other chair backwards, so she could sit on it with her chin resting on the headrest. She continued to glare at Killian.

“This isn’t your usual night for hunting.” Killian usually chose the nights where no one stayed overnight to go out.

“True; but that storm that’s brewing is going to hang around for a few days. I don’t fancy hunting in the rain.”

“Same reason I was out,” Ruby nodded. “I needed to get a good run in before being cooped up the next few nights. And deer are one of my favorite meals.”

Emma abruptly burst out laughing. At Killian and Ruby’s matching looks of bewilderment, she explained, “Sorry, I just thought about how it must look, seeing Killian stalk a deer when he’s dressed like a pirate.”

“He hunts as a wolf,” Ruby growled. “Which makes him a trespasser on my territory.”

“You can turn into a wolf?!” Emma asked incredulously, then wondered why she was so shocked. She’d been dealing with the existence of the supernatural for nearly a month now; she should be used to this, right?

“Aye,” Killian said, “vampires can become any creature of the night. Though we’re far more impressive than weres.” 

Emma wondered what was considered a ‘creature of the night’, especially since she knew wolves were frequently active during the day. Could he become an opossum? A raccoon? Maybe a cricket?

Vampire crickets, now there was a thought.

Ruby rolled her eyes. “Vampiric wolves look like how wolves were traditionally depicted: all snaggly teeth and glowing eyes. Werewolves, on the other hand, are perfect specimens of wolf: lithe and muscular, swift as the wind.”

“So… you’re like the goths and jocks of the wolf community?” Emma took a sip of her coffee to hide her amusement as she watched Ruby sputter indignantly. Killian simply smirked, flashing that chipped fang.

“Perhaps we should continue our tale, lass, before we end up at each other’s throats, aye?” Killian said softly, and Ruby calmed.

“Yeah.” Ruby shook her head as though to dispel the last vestiges of wolf. 

The change in tone put Emma on immediate alert. “What happened out there?”

“Something spooked the deer badly enough that it turned around and fled past us,” Killian said. 

Oh. That didn’t sound good. Emma set her coffee aside, suddenly too nauseous to finish it. “Did you investigate?”

“Yeah,” Ruby said. “We followed the deer’s path, and soon we could smell what had frightened it. It was…wrong. It made my hackles rise, and I was growling without even knowing at what. Killian and I crept forward, and that’s when we found it.”

“An altar,” they said in unison.

Ah. Emma doubted they meant the kind you’d find in a church. “Oh?” Her coffee was getting cold, she noted as she took a lingering sip.

“A witch’s ritual altar,” Killian clarified, staring at her intensely. 

“A witch? Of course they’re real, too,” Emma sighed. “How worried about this should we be?”

“I’m not sure yet. I need a better look at the altar and the sigils around it to get an idea of what sort of ritual was performed.”

“So you’re an expert in witches now?” Ruby arched a brow.

“No, but I can ask people who are, and for that, I need photos. We need to get back out there immediately and photograph the site.”

Neither would have had access to their phones’ cameras, of course. Ruby would have been a wolf, and while Killian could transform clothes along with his body, it only seemed to be the archaic black leather outfit he favored when he wasn’t pretending to be human. Objects like his phone or wallet didn’t survive the transformation.

“Swan, I’d like you to come along as well; I want to see how you react to the magic.”

When Walsh had tried to compel Emma, he’d discovered that she was immune to his vampiric powers. This intrigued Killian, because it was a very rare gift not found in pure humans. He was determined to figure out just what was in her bloodline.

Emma was less enthused about this. She didn’t have any interest in parents that had abandoned her as a baby. She only cared about David and his mother Ruth, who had taken her in when she was a feral street child and given her a home and love.

Plus, she really didn’t want to walk around the woods after dark. There might be ticks or something.

“Now? It’s almost midnight!” And the moon was only a crescent, meaning it would be dark as pitch outside.

“Aye, but there’s a storm rolling in. All the evidence will be washed away by morning. Likely by design,” Killian said.

Reluctantly, Emma grabbed her coat from the closet while Ruby went off to change back into a wolf. Despite the protection of a large wolf and a vampire, Emma felt a thrill of fear as they stepped away from The Belfry’s exterior lights and to the edge of the forest beyond.

Her flashlight did little to help.

“So… tell me about witches,” Emma said. “Just how dangerous are they?”

“Most witches are benign,” Killian corrected, surprising her. “Just women gifted with knowledge and a bit of magic. Many of them end up in positions where they can use their gifts to help others: doctors and nurses, veterinarians, financial advisors, that sort of thing. Some are hide amongst charlatans, using real magic and divination to tell futures or speak with the dead, though those are rare. Mostly, they just live among humans, leading normal - though perhaps luckier - lives.

“True practitioners of the black arts are rare. They’re hunted by their own kind, in much the same way I take care of out of control vampires. This one… the scent of her magic is rotten.”

“What can someone with that kind of magic do?”

Killian scratched his cheek with the tip of his hook as he thought. “They can create curses, give others ill luck, or even kill without touching their victim. We won’t know much more until my expert has had a look.”

There was silence for a while after that, as Emma tried to fit this into her already shaken worldview. Finally, she decided it was just too much for one night, and turned her thoughts to something else.

“Henry really enjoyed visiting your ship the other day. It’s all he’s been talking about ever since.” Henry’s class had taken a day to tour the ‘real’ pirate ship (which was, in fact, a very real pirate ship, captained by a very real pirate), and he’d come home asking for sailing lessons. Not possible so late into the season, but she’d promised him that if he was still interested next year, she’d look into it.

“He’s a fine lad,” Killian told her. “Smart, and curious about everything. I’d be delighted to teach him some sailing basics, if…”

If you give me a reason to stick around, Emma knew he was thinking. Because Emma knew it was more than the threat of a rogue vampire that kept Killian living as a bat in Storybrooke. And three nights ago, Killian had finally made his move to see if there could be anything between them.

“So, Swan, are you looking forward to tomorrow night?”

Ahead, Ruby slowed, canting back one ear. Emma thought at first something had put her on alert; then she realized her friend was eavesdropping.

Right. Tomorrow. When she and Killian had dinner reservations for Bella Notte. Their first date.

She’d never been so nervous.

She wanted to date Killian. But her violent introduction to the world of vampires had left her cautious. Even Ruby’s reassurance that vampire society worked as Killian had described, with strict laws and enforcers that carried out ruthless punishments for lawbreakers, she’d still been wary.

Walsh had been terrifying, but he’d been newly-turned. Weak. Killian was centuries old and powerful.

He also squeaked at her petulantly if she gave him banana slices when he wanted strawberries.

The rumbles of thunder that had begun when night fell were growing louder, and Emma was beginning to worry they wouldn’t make it to the altar in time. But after forty-five minutes of what felt to Emma like random stumbling around in the dark, Ruby let out a sharp bark.

“We’re here,” Killian said unnecessarily. Because Emma could feel the change in the air, something that made her hair stand on end. 

“The hell?” she asked.

“So you do feel it,” Killian sounded as if she’d just confirmed something for him.

How could anyone not feel that? It was a miasma that pressed against her, threatening to smother her.

She fought down the urge to claw at her skin, and forced herself to examine the altar.

If Emma had been walking through the woods alone, she never would have seen it - or at least not realized it wasn’t a natural formation. She ran the flashlight beam over a tree that had been split in half, probably by a lightning strike. One half had fallen to the side, the other was still attached to the stump, but bent at a ninety degree angle to form a natural table just over knee height.

The split trunk was spotted with dark stains. A fragment of bone was caught in a furrow in wood.

“I’ll hold the torch if you’ll take the photos,” Killian offered. Emma handed the flashlight over, and he directed her to photograph the altar, as well as the sigils she’d missed at first look. The were carved into the ground, or painted onto the trunks of surrounding trees with the same fluid that had stained the altar.

Killian was thorough. Emma wondered if he was like this with all investigations, because she could use someone like him in the Sheriff’s Department.

Thunder boomed, and Emma and Ruby jumped. “Storm’s almost here,” Killian observed. “We’d better leave now, before we’re caught out in it.”

They only just managed to make it back to The Belfry before the sky opened up. Emma was soaked through by the time she managed to unlock the door, and Ruby reeked of wet dog. Killian, she noted, managed to look ridiculously good even when wet.

The rain pounded away into the night, and Emma shivered. She hoped it would be enough to wash away the taint of evil in the forest.

~oOo~

The stranger stank of dark magic.

Emma had been in the back office of the sheriff’s station, taking care of paperwork, when David had called her up front.

Grateful to escape her papery hell, she’d hurried up front - only to be brought up short by the elegant woman in the immaculate business suit who was ignoring David’s attempts to be friendly. Emma, however, immediately drew her interest.

Dark eyes ran up and down Emma, and perfect lips turned down into a frown, as if she’d found Emma lacking. “Can I help you?” she asked stiffly.

“I just wanted to introduce myself. My name is Regina Mills,” the woman said haughtily. “I’m the new mayor of Storybrooke.”

~tbc~

[piinfeathers]

my cover art for @goforlaunchcee incredible cssns23 fic “Smoke and Mirros” ✨🌙🪞

check out her story here 💛

[statustemporary]

free fallin' - Chapter 2

STORY SUMMARY: On a dark and stormy Halloween night 27 years ago, five people stepped onto an elevator. They never stepped off.

Now 28, Emma Swan and her son Henry work together to discover what caused her parents and the other inhabitants to suddenly disappear.

//rewrite of previous work, expanded to a multi-chapter.

RATING: Teen+

WORD COUNT: 3,564

TAGS: Captain Swan, Tower of Terror AU, CSSNS 2022, Graphic Depictions Of Terrifying Sights in Chapter 1, no beta we die like killian jones,

AO3

AUTHOR'S NOTE: ha ha... oops. it's been two years since i updated this. life's crazy and my passion for ouat has faded but i'm determined to finish all my posts WIPs and maybe get my WIP folder on my laptop emptied onto here. i'm trying.

this has changed drastically from the film, mainly because i messed things up in the first chapter but oh well lol. similar premise but obviously things are a free-for-all now in my story. wish me luck trying to finish this lol.

not really sure how i'm feeling about this chapter so i'm sorry in advance if it doesn't live up to expectations! here's to the next one eventually!

enjoy!

***

Uncle James lives in a swanky townhouse just a few blocks from the heart of Storybrooke. The front windows of the place have a magnificent view of the hills in the distance while the back windows peered out at the Hollywood Tower Hotel like a taunt.

Emma hated growing up there.

The entire place felt too modern and unlived. Uncle James refused to have any sentimentality in his living space. No art projects on the fridge, no souvenirs from trips, and definitely no family photos. The farthest he went with décor was a floating shelf of ratty books in Latin. She wondered if what happened that Halloween night 27 years ago haunted him and that’s why he refused any reminder of his twin. Did the mirror play just as cruel of a joke?

Oddly enough, she did stumble upon a picture of her mother in his bedside drawer when she was eight. Mary Margaret looked stunning, her degree placard from Harvard held tightly in her hand with a bouquet of flowers cradled in her opposite elbow. Her graduation gown was flowing in the wind and her smile was positively radiant.

Uncle James caught her looking at the photo and he ripped it from her grasp. She never saw it again.

Not much about the townhouse has changed over the years, including the man residing inside of it. Uncle James remains aloof and standoffish to the point Emma wouldn’t be surprised if he forgot he had a niece at all.

His car, a sleek black sports convertible, is parked out front and it feels promising, even if she dreads the upcoming conversation. It takes a great effort to place one foot in front of the other as she approaches the entrance, her feet feeling as heavy as lead. The sickening weight in her heels is the only thing to prevent her from running back to her car after pressing the doorbell.

Uncle James looks surprised and disappointed to see her on his doorstep. His shoulders visibly drop and his mouth ticks down in a frown. “Emma?”

She flashes a quick smile at him.

“Uncle James, hi. How are you?”

He cuts straight to the point, narrowing the opening of the door so that only a sliver of his body is visible. “What are you doing here?”

The sigh that leaves her lips makes him close the door another inch. “Can we talk inside?”

“Actually Emma, I’m about to leave for – ”

He’s wearing pajamas. And a bathrobe. She swallows down the anger that’s brewing, the almost two decades of resentment towards his willful absence, and steels her shoulders. “I need to talk to you about my parents.” That catches his attention.

Paranoia, or maybe it’s PTSD, seems to take over her uncle as he pales and ushers her inside his townhome, head ducking out the door and swiveling around before he slams it shut and locks it. He brings her to the kitchen and offers her some alcohol as he makes his own drink. She remembers being thirteen and him offering her some of his rum and coke when he realized they had no orange juice in the fridge. The drink disgusted her and he got angry when she spit it in the sink. They never ran out of orange juice after that.

“So…” he begins. His hands are tense where they’re splayed on the kitchen island’s marble countertop. There’s a wild gleam in his eyes that unsettles Emma but she doesn’t know where to place it. She knows reporters, both professional and amateur, have hunted her down and pressured her for a statement, an interview, anything. Had they done the same to her uncle? “What were you saying about your parents?”

“Do you remember that night?” she asks. Uncle James sighs and drops his head.

“I could never forget it.” Defeat thickens his voice as his shoulders grow rigid. He shudders and takes a deep breath before looking up at her. “What about it?”

Emma shifts in her seat. “Can you tell me about it? From your perspective?” He looks ready to deny her so she pulls out the card up her sleeve. “It’s for Henry. He’s doing a project in school.”

“Ah,” he murmurs. A shadow crosses over his face as he collects his thoughts. “There’s not much to say from what I saw, really. I arrived early because my polo club cancelled our game. I saw Mayor Mills, exchanged a few words about the party at the Tip Top Club. I was on the stairs with some fancy drink from the patio bar when I saw your parents head into the elevator. David and I hadn’t talked in a few months but Mary Margaret invited me to the party.” Emma feels herself soften as her uncle smiles absently as he remembers her parents. “Obviously she didn’t tell him I was coming and he was glaring at me. He still hadn’t moved on from our fight. I raised my glass to them, a peace offering. Then the elevator doors closed and that was it… That was the last time I saw them.”

“Did you see anything else that night?” she asks, leaning her elbows atop the island. “Anything strange or… unusual?”

He shakes his head as he looks down at his drink. Silence follows for a beat and then another and Emma’s afraid she’s lost her uncle to his memories of the past. “The lights went out not long after I saw them get on the elevator.” She nods. “Honestly, I thought people were crazy when they said all of them were cursed. I mean, magic?!” He huffs out a laugh of disbelief. A pause and then his face darkens. “If there’s any inkling to that notion, I’d wager on Regina.”

Huh. Emma’s brows pinch together as she mulls that sentence over in her head. The sudden drop of formality with the former mayor was odd. For all the time she lived with Uncle James, he never mentioned Regina before today, much less by name. He never mentioned any of the others either but the way he spoke now hinted at a history. A nasty one at that.

Her mouth opens to ask another question but Uncle James shakes his head and downs the remainder of his drink in one go. “I think it’s time you left, Emma. It was nice seeing you.”

He disappears around the corner to his bedroom at the back of the townhouse before Emma has a chance to say any departing words. Resigned, she gently places her cup in the dishwasher and sees herself out.

***

The late morning air hangs heavy around the hotel. Emma stands outside on the sidewalk, head tilted back as she takes in the massive structure. In reality, she never thought she’d come here, let alone twice in as many days. She checks her watch to confirm she has a few hours before Henry gets out of school. The last thing she wants is for him to be back here.

“Uh…” a voice sounds to her left and Emma turns just in time to see her son stop short, eyes widen, and his body swivel back the way he came.

“Henry!” she calls out in frustration. She watches his small body freeze and tense up as she comes upon him.

He grins small but innocently up at her. “Ha ha… Hi, Mom.”

“What are you doing here?! You’re supposed to be in school today!”

“Well about that…” he laughs nervously. She says his name in warning and he winces, opening his mouth ready to spew an inventive explanation when they hear a creaking behind them.

The metal gate to the hotel opens slowly and the chain-link keeping it closed snakes down to the ground in an exhausted heap. She blinks rapidly at the scene before her, her mouth dropping open in shock. That… shouldn’t happen.

Maybe the chains were just rusted and finally gave way, she tried to reason with herself. Maybe LJ forgot to lock back up after everything yesterday.

So lost in her thoughts, Emma didn’t realize Henry had moved away until she saw his small figure squeezing through the open fence and running up the hill to the hotel. “Henry!” she yells out. Running is her thing – running away from emotions, commitment, the whole shebang. Apparently, her son inherited that from her, just literally.

The bottles of holy water in the pocket of her leather jacket are justled by her running up the driveway. Sage in her bag bumps against her hip. Her gun rests heavily in her holster.

Emma’s eyes scan the landscape furiously.

“Henry!” she calls out. She evens her breathing and rests one hand on her hip where her firearm rests in case some crazy person is behind all this and has Henry.

“Hurry up, Mom!”

Emma turns the last bend of the driveway and lets out a deep sigh. Henry stands in front of the entrance to the hotel bouncing on the balls of his feet. He impatiently waves her over, eyeing the locked front doors.

“You know,” she starts, “I think I should bring you to Granny’s right now. Let her watch over you and see if you try to skip school again.”

Henry whines, head thrown back in exasperation. “But Moooooom! These are your parents!”

“Henry, come on. You can’t really believe that.” Emma bends down in front of him and takes hold of his arms, her thumbs rubbing soothing circles even as her heart bleeds. “My parents disappeared so long ago… This can’t be them.”

“But it is!”

“Henry…”

“What about yesterday?! You believed it was their ghosts when they scared us out of here!”

“Ghosts don’t exist, Henry. How do you explain that, huh? Magic?” She deflates as her son mumbles to himself and looks to the ground. Softening her tone, she continues, “It would be really cool if magic was real but it’s not. Those are probably just projections some twisted loser made to scare people. Okay?”

“Are you calling us Jem and the Holograms?”

They jump at the sudden appearance of a third voice, their heads turning to see Killian Jones leaning halfway through the closed front door.

Emma’s breath stutters while Henry starts, “What the –”

“Tsk, tsk,” Killian taunts. “Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?”

She panics. Her hand flies to her bag and she pulls out the holy water, uncapping the bottle and surging the water towards the door.

It seemingly goes through his body, the blessed water streaming down the front door, but he jerks at the sensation.

Then Killian starts to groan, writhing in pain. The half of his body positioned through the door begins to curl in on itself as gurgling from his throat becomes audible. Emma stares – watching and waiting for smoke to sizzle from his frame or for him to disappear but nothing happens.

Until the gurgling changes sound and it becomes clear it’s transitioned into laughter.

Killian raises his head, smirking in glee. “Holy water? Really? I know I’m devilishly handsome but you didn’t really think that’d work.”

The photos never did his smirk justice, she realizes. And all she wants to do is smack it right off his face. With a growl, she stands up straight and marches right through Killian to the front door, pulling the spare key LJ gave her from her pocket.

“Chills, darling,” Killian whispers in her ear. The air shifts around her. Despite the absence of any breath ghosting over her skin, she can feel the way a smirk dances across his lips and the whole thing makes her angrier.

Click. The key sits just perfectly in the lock and the door swings open. She strides inside, Henry following excitedly behind her.

Her back straight as a rod, she places her hands on her hips and stares down the… beings in the hotel lobby.

“Not the friendliest lady, huh?” Killian drawls from behind her.

Henry takes immediate offense. “Hey, that’s my mom!”

“Apologies, lad,” Killian tosses carelessly over his shoulder as he heads towards the bar.

“Enough!” Emma calls out roughly. She narrows her gaze, her voice dropping an octave. “Who the hell is behind this?”

Regina sighs, sitting regally on a cobweb infested armchair in the center of the lobby. She examines her nails with more interest than her voice provides in an answer. “If she weren’t dead, I’d say my sister.”

“Regina!” Mary Margaret quietly admonishes from David’s side near the luggage cart.

“What?” Regina asks, her eyes thinning to slits and lips turning downward. “You’ve met the witch. A house should’ve fell on her sooner.”

“She was really a witch?!” Henry asks, practically bouncing in place from excitement.

Regina scoffs. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she actually was.”

“Magic isn’t real,” Emma grits out. She moves just slightly in front of Henry, eyes flicking between the Jones brothers and Regina. “Now explain who is putting on this sick joke because they’ve got a nice harassment charge waiting for when I bring them down to the sheriff’s office. It’d be a pity to add evading arrest to that as well.”

“Well,” states Liam from where he’s reviewing a check-in book. “Once you find out, let us know. I’d like to have a chat with the lad as well.”

“Seriously,” she continues. She puts her hands on her hips to further assert her authority and presses hard enough that she’s sure the skin under her jeans is colorless. “This isn’t funny. Tell me.”

Killian tsks. The sound is quickly growing to be her most hated. “As pretty as you are to look at, lass, I think the peace and quiet was better. I’d have told you if I knew.”

David scoffs, crossing his arms. “Leave the girl alone, Jones. You’re nothing but a drunk – she wouldn’t waste the time with you anyway.”

There’s a shout of indignation from the other side of the room and then the entire lobby erupts into chaos. The Jones brothers jump to the other’s defense as David tosses insults back and forth. Regina adds her own one-liners to the disappointment of Mary Margaret. Their own disagreement drags David into it as well, and he manages to fight off both Regina and the Jones brothers as if a skilled swordsman against multiple enemies.

Words no longer decipherable, Emma subtly steps to the side, one eye on the group and the other searching, investigating. Caution rolls deep within her and she keeps one hand resting on her holstered firearm. Ghosts aren’t real. There’s no such thing. Holy water didn’t do a damn thing.

Sophisticated projector is what she’s looking for, then. They have to be holograms or AI or something that digitally recreated five tragically unsolved missing people, for the pure enjoyment of scaring others. She bets that there’s some YouTube channel that showcases Hollywood Tower Hotel scares, run by whoever is doing this.

Emma’s gaze scans the walls of the outdated hotel.

It didn’t hit her last time, too busy scared for their lives to really pay attention, but the floral wallpaper pulls from the moldings. The green background has faded and the white flowers accenting it yellowed. Burnt out lamps with golden shades sit atop wooden tables covered in layers of dust.

The sound of something rustling wafts through the air but the group of beings either don’t hear it or don’t care. If she follows the sound, though, she might find the ‘genius’ behind it all. Her eyes narrow on a closed oak door near the hallway to the main floor ballroom.

A once golden sign looks like a beat-up bronze, the fake bright finishing having flaked off over the years. Coat Closet. Likely place for someone to setup their gadgets.

The vinyl flooring crackles under her feet as she moves towards the it.

Her head turns at an echoing pair of footsteps and a quick glance back confirms Henry treads closely behind.

The wooden door swings open with a creak. Emma splays her hand against the rough wallpaper and feels around until she hits the light switch. Flickering yellow light fills the cramped space. Pink wool carpet stained from age and buckling wood paneling buried behind huge swaths of clothing greet them first before the smell of must hits their noses.

Henry shrieks and jumps back at the sight of a large rat scurrying over fraying paper and escaping through the lobby.

Great. Nothing in the closet except a rat and leftover coats from that night…

Emma was only a baby when her parents disappeared on Halloween night at the Hollywood Tower Hotel. Grandma Ruth, overwhelmed in her grief, packed up all of their things and tucked them away in a storage unit out of town. Out of sight didn’t mean out of mind, though, and Emma served as a reminder of her broken heart every day, until she couldn’t handle it anymore and went into an eternal sleep.

By the time Emma was old enough to know and inquire about her parents’ things, Grandma Ruth’s storage unit had been auctioned off due to lack of payments.

Aside from a small box of things brought to her Uncle James’ place alongside her diaper bag, everything her parents owned was gone.

Being at the hotel, at the place where she lost them before she could even know them, Emma wants something to hold of theirs. The only thing she has of her mother’s is a pink cardigan, left at Granny’s apartment during a dinner once. Soft, powdery fragrance once enveloped the fabric but has long since faded. Now the small cardigan hangs on her coat rack as a reminder of what is so far from her grasp.

But maybe… maybe in this place seemingly suspended in time… she could have something.

Her eyes have studied the photographs of the night well enough that, once she looks towards the coats, she immediately recognizes the red scarf.

Tucked around the neck of a shimmering floor-length dark coat, the red scarf sticks out in a sea of navy and black. It calls to her and Emma’s fingers slowly reach out. The coat ticket says 191, the black jacket kept close stating 192 most likely belonging to her father.

The fabric is cool to the touch and though spiders and moths have left their mark elsewhere in the hotel, the state of the coat closet is pristine. Could it hold the smell? The perfume Emma has spent half her life looking for? The only thing that reminds her of her mother’s embrace. Of comfort and security and love.

She pulls both coats off the hanger and holds her mother’s up, her nose nearly to the scarf –

“Hey!” Henry calls from behind her.

Emma turns swiftly, her eyes locking in on the beings crowding their way towards them. Her hand shoots out and grabs Henry’s arm, pulling him swiftly behind her.

“Hey,” Mary Margaret echoes quietly. Her brows furrow together as she takes in the sight before her. “That’s my coat.”

Mary Margaret’s hand reaches towards the coat but Emma jerks it back towards her, feeling oddly protective of the thing. The smell of the scarf hits her nose and she rustles the coats in her arms for a better grip, suddenly feeling vulnerable.

“Hey,” her watery voice sounding loud in the tight closet as the others look at her in wide-eyed shock. “Don’t crowd us in here. I’m – ”

“Emma,” David breaths out, her entire body deflating.

Emma blinks, hesitating for a moment. “David?” she asks. “You… remember?”

Tears flood his eyes as he gives her a soft smile. “Of course.”

A fluttering lightness fills Emma’s chest as he steps forward, smile still on his face.

It’s incredible, she thinks to herself. How her father could just know it was her despite all the time that had passed. Maybe this is his ghost and this is her closure.

Emma nearly drops the coats as her father takes another step…

Until he bends down onto one knee and picks something up from the floor. A polaroid.

“We’ve never been able to get in here,” David whispers, more to himself than to her and Henry. He stares at the polaroid as tears roll down his cheeks and a shaky hand comes up to cover his mouth. Mary Margaret leans in close, her own eyes filling, and she rests her head on his arm.

Acting every part the proud father, David shows the others what the polaroid is. “This is our daughter,” he begins, looking up with a wide, watery grin and turning the polaroid towards her and Henry.

The film is slightly overexposed and a person stands in the background more a blur than a defining figure. In the center stands, with help of the mystery figure, a small Emma barely a year old with a spattering of light hair atop her head and a gummy grin directed right at the camera.

“Her name is – ”

“Emma,” she finishes in a rushed, exhausted breath. Looked over by her own baby photo. Damn.

She clutches the coats tighter to her center and Henry looks up at her, confused. “But – ”

“We’re leaving.” Emma frees one hand to grab Henry’s arm and pulls him through the closet, through the ghastly chill of the projected beings in the hotel, and out the front door.

[kmomof4]

Self-Promo Sunday

On this Self-Promo Sunday before the last Captain Swan SuperNatural Summer kicks off, if I may beg y'all's indulgence, I decided to highlight the four fics that I've written for the event over the years.

Of Darkness, Vampires, and Soulmates - My first contribution to my very own event! So much fun, but also SO HARD to write, I am very very proud of how this turned out! @hollyethecurious and @wistfulcynic very nearly earned co-writer status with everything they did to make sure I actually finished the dadgum thing! Absolutely MAGNIFICENT artwork for EVERY chapter by @spartanguard. MC, 41k words.

Summary: The Dark’s minion’s downfall is foretold When True Love’s Kiss doth unfold Between soulmates unbound by time The blue eyed prince and his golden haired Swan Their True Love will break the hold And Dark magic will be no more

The Moon... Tells the Sea - inspired by this GORGEOUS aesthetic @caught-in-the-filter was working on for CSSNS20. OS, 7100 words.

Summary: Nearly a century has passed since she became what she is when a new figure enters her lonely world. Who is he? And more importantly, WHAT is he?

Hotel Neverland - Inspired by The Eagles Hotel California. OS 6600 words. LITERALLY BREATHTAKING artwork by @thesschesthair

Summary: A ghost story for CSSNS22

And finally,

Into the Light - Inspired by the 1987 movie The Lost Boys. Artwork that left me a giggling flailing MESS by @motherkatereloyshipper. Two shot with 16,600 words.

Summary: The move to Storybrooke Maine might have been intended as the beginning of a new life for Killian Jones and his older siblings Liam and Belle, but there's a darkness over the town that threatens the small family's happiness, as well as the girl and small boy Killian has taken a liking to from his school. Killian is determined to help Emma and Henry get out of the situation they are in, but those dark forces in and around the town have another plan altogether.

Thank you all for the love and support you've given me, my fics, and this event over the years. It's been an INCREDIBLE run and a REALLY FUN ride!!! I hope you enjoy this look back and join me in eagerly anticipating everything waiting for us these next two months!!!

[athenascarlet]

The Merman Pirate

Summary: Emma was trying to settle back into normal life after her trip to Neverland so answering calls to the sheriff’s office feels good again. Except the call leads her to the local school and something she never expected. Rating: T Notes: For @cssns! I’m so excited to get this story out for Captain Swan Supernatural Summer. I’ve been thinking about Hook as a merman for awhile now and found this to be a fun one-shot to get out of my brain. Post-Neverland but pre-Pan curse. Just a normal night with a princess and a pirate. ;)

------------

The sky was dark and stormy as Emma drove through the streets of Storybrooke with her windshield wipers on high to clear the water away.

She had been back for a whole day from Neverland and was already fielding calls to handle another issue as a sheriff of this town. She didn’t really mind though. After being stuck on that stupid island for however long they were there, it was nice to be back and handling the normal calls that came into the office.

It also helped to distract her from what was going on with her son. Henry didn’t seem himself after the Jolly Roger returned to town, but she was still trying to figure out exactly what was going on there.

So a report to the sheriff’s office that someone broke into the town’s school? Totally normal and a good distraction.

Emma pulled up to the front of the school and ran through the pouring rain to the front door. Another benefit of working for the sheriff’s office is Emma had plenty of keys to buildings in the town, but it took her a few tries to find the one for the school.

She finally found the one she needed and slipped it quietly into the lock. The school itself was empty as she went through the halls checking classrooms and finding no one. Henry’s classroom included some artwork on the wall that he had done before they left for Neverland. It was just another reminder that despite their adventures, her son was still a kid going to school. Well, some days.

Emma made her way to the cafeteria and then the gym, finding no one. Perhaps the call was a dud or whoever was here had already left even though nothing seemed out of place.

There was a flash of lightning outside illuminating an open door on the far end of the gym and she started to make her way over as the thunder boomed overhead. Emma hoped it would hide the sound of her squeaky shoes on the floor.

She gently pushed the door open into the school’s pool, realizing she had never been in this part of the building before.

Emma didn’t always like Regina and it made her skin crawl at times thinking of the curse that Regina cast to create this town. But there were other times like now when she couldn’t help but admire Regina’s work. The pool’s walls were covered with tiles depicting colorful fish, sea serpents, and jellyfish. She wondered what Hook would think of this. He would probably ask to have someone add his Jolly Roger to the wall.

There was a splash from the pool and Emma’s attention was pulled in the direction of the water. It wasn’t still. There was someone in there.

She pushed herself into a shadow, realizing she had exposed her presence while staring at the walls. Her hand was on the holster of her gun as she peered back out into the water to see what was there.

And then she saw the mermaid.

Emma thought nothing could shock her when it came to magical creatures and fairy tale stories, but she couldn’t help but stare at the water glimmered on the scales of a gorgeous dark blue tail. It was darker than she expected and not like the tail that she had seen Ariel unfurl a few times in the open bay in Storybrooke.

And then the rest of the mermaid crested above the water, and Emma realized it wasn’t a mermaid.

He was a merman.

Hook.

His eyes were just above the waterline and she could tell it was him by his wet hair and that little peak on the top of his ears. But that was the only part of him above the water while his tail seemed to shimmer below the surface.

Emma took a breath and finally stepped out from her hiding spot. “Hook.”

He turned dramatically, his tail splashing through the surface as he pushed himself higher and his piercing blue eyes landed on her. A sexy sneer teased at the corner of his lips when he realized it was her and the tension in his shoulder seemed to slip away.

“Good evening, Swan. Fancy seeing you here this late.”

She walked over to the edge of the pool and looked down at him as he swam to the edge near her feet.

“I got a call about someone breaking and entering.”

“Well, I am a pirate.”

She crouched down to give him a closer look as his arms reached up to give him some extra leverage on the edge of the pool.

“You also seem to be a merman?”

“I do like the water.”

Emma shouldn’t be staring. She didn’t mean to stare. But Hook was right in front of her and he was a merman. His tail was dark against the light background of the pool and he was lazily flipping it around under the water. She wasn’t sure if this was the normal movement for his fin or if Hook was trying to put on a show because he could tell she was watching him.

And he was wearing clothes?

“What’s with the shirt?” she asked.

“The chlorine is harsh on my skin.”

“And why are you even here?”

There was another flash of light outside the pool’s window and thunder rolled overhead. Hook just looked up as a way to wordlessly answer the question.

“So you’re a mermaid who doesn’t swim when there’s water coming down from the sky?” she asked sarcastically.

“I’m a merman, Swan.” Hook’s tail flipped gently out of the water and back in as if to emphasize the difference. “And storms churn up all the dirt in the bay so I came here instead.”

“Sure,” she replied. “Yep, all logical.”

He shrugged and pushed off the wall, his tail swinging around underwater and then surfacing right where she was crouching, splashing her boots with a little water.

“Perhaps it’s not logical in your human realm, but you are the sheriff of a town full of people from the Enchanted Forest.”

“Don’t remind me.”

He gave her one of his wicked smiles and ducked down into the water, covering the length of the pool without coming up. He dove lower in the deep end and then quickly surfaced, the wet tail below his waist shimmering as he emerged high above the surface.

Then Hook was swimming back to her with the seductive look that reminded her of their kiss in Neverland. The way he stared at her, daring her to reward him for saving her father.

“Would you like to join me, Swan?”

They were back in Storybrooke now. She had to remember that. She was the sheriff who simply came across a merman because she was doing her job.

“Not tonight.”

Hook swam a little closer to her again and used his tail to hoist himself out of the water so he was eye level with her now. It was unnerving and delicious, and he was turning her on again just as he had when they were in Neverland.

“Perhaps another night then,” he said seductively.

Then he slipped back under the water and began his swim again.

Emma needed to remind herself that she was the sheriff and she was her on official sheriff business. Flirting with a merman was not part of her job description and she needed to get back to work.

She stood up and looked down at Hook in the pool again. He seemed content as if this was his way of releasing the frustration and stress from their time in Neverland. She wondered if she would ever have some kind of magic that could help her channel away those same feelings.

But that would have to be for another night.

“Make sure you lock up when you leave,” she yelled down into the water.

Hook surfaced again, his tail dragging behind him out of the water. “As you wish, Swan.”

As you wish. Unlike their moment in Neverland, this time his “As you wish” was teasing and flippant.

She liked the other way better.

The way he said it to her after she kissed him.

Emma knew that could never happen again.

“Good night, Hook,” she said before turning and heading back toward the gym and her job.

She heard a splash as his merman tail hit the water as she walked away.

[ohmightydevviepuu]

can't stop won't stop. from the edge of the deep green sea, yet again. written for the 2020 @cssns, this story is one of the most fun things i've worked on and it is easy to come back to it each time i want to try a new thing with the art or the binding technique. this one is a quarto (letter) "paperback" with a paste paper cover. binding technique inspired by @chubsonthemoon.

version 1: paste paper sealed with pearlescent fixatif before printing, then inked over with gel pens and foil quil for color and effect. new title page art inspired by a tattoo in the story. incredible watercolor from @mariakov81, always. i also changed up the typeset, making a more readable and easier-to-deal-with center ornament out of lunar phase dingbats and adding an epilogue to the story.

version 2: inkjet print on paste paper, cover design by me, inked with a foil quill heat transfer pen. spine titling with foil quill on japanese shibori paper.

[caught-in-the-filter]

CSSNS 2023 - @cssns

She's dead. He's undead. They're making it work.

[stubblesandwich]

The One You Feed - Chapter 3

Howdy, friends! Just an update to this little gem from the @cssns, to celebrate the start of spooky season. 🎃

The One You Feed (14810 words) by StubbleSandwich Chapters: 3/5 Fandom: Once Upon a Time (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Emma Swan Characters: Emma Swan, Captain Hook | Killian Jones, Red Riding Hood | Ruby, Prince Charming | David Nolan, Snow White | Mary Margaret Blanchard Additional Tags: CSSNS, Werewolf AU, Captain Swan - Freeform, Friends to Lovers Summary: Emma Swan is an underpaid, overworked waitress at a small-town Denny’s. Once a month, a curious customer pays her a visit. In fact, he’s so strange, he’s warranted a special nickname from her friend Ruby–Cute Creepy Guy. He always orders a mountain of cheap breakfast food and eats it like it’s his last night on earth. Oh yeah, and apparently he’s a werewolf.

Tagging a few friends below the line. Let me know if you don't want to be in these updates! I just copied them over from the last time this was updated. ✌🏻

@bleebug @spartanguard @sunbeamsandmoonrays @caprelloidea @kmomof4 @queen-mabs-revenge @ahsagitarius @t-tamm-@lavendersoapsuds @its-imperator-furiosa @midnightswans @cigarettes-and-scotch-whisky @withheartfulloflove @captainswan-middlemist @sarahreadsff @princesseslikepirates @winterbaby89 @pirateherokillian @wordslovedreams @hannah-mic @thecraftyartist @blackwidownat2814 @once-uponacaptain @kylalovesbabeme @swiftmicheles @emmaswanstlk @captainswanslay @the-tones-of-wallflowers @kday426 @krystalsficpage  @distant-rose  @galadriel26  @daxx04  @killian-whump  @nfbagelperson   @resident-of-storybrooke   @gusenitsaa  @cat-sophia   @superchocovian  @snowbellewells @nanikasplace   @bashful-killian  

[hufflepuffinstorybrooke]

If You’re Lucky, Love Leaves Scars

Summary: In Misthaven, the people know that their rulers are soulmates, bound by the fact that they share their emotions and also physical pain. Follow Crown Princess Emma as she discovers that she has a soulmate of her own and her path to meeting her true love.

Rating: Rated Teen for a small instance of child abuse. You don't technically see it happen, but you do see the results from the soulmate's POV. Feel free to message me with any questions if you need more info before reading.

Notes: The notes might be a bit long, so bear with me: 1) I'd like to thank the runners of the Captain Swan Supernatural Summer for letting me participate in this year's event! 2) I would like to thank @kmomof4​ for my beautiful artwork! 3) Thanks also goes to @kazoosandfannypacks​, my wonderful beta. 4) A last thank you to my friends Caroline, who acted as a second beta (a gamma?) and cheerleader for me during the writing process. 

This is my first attempt at fanfic, so please be nice. More notes at the end. Enjoy!

Here is the link for AO3

https://archiveofourown.org/works/48275764

Everyone in the realm knows the stories of soulmates. Not everyone has them, but when you do, what happens to them happens to you as well. When they bleed, so do you. And once together, soulmates feel what the other feels emotionally, as well. Only the truest of soulmates feel each others’ emotions before ever meeting.

Crown Princess Emma of Misthaven was born of True Love: the truest of soulmates, Queen Snow White and King David. The story of their love is legendary, bringing the kingdom out of the darkness of the Evil Queen and into their benevolent reign. Emma knew her parents’ story before she knew anything else. She would tell all the people she met that she was born of True Love, the daughter of brave King David and fearless Queen Snow. She loved the life that, in her mind, was given to her by that same True Love.

The love only grew when Emma was five, and her little sister Ruth was born. Emma adored being a big sister. Everyone throughout the kingdom rejoiced, though there were those who worried that another girl had been born instead of a son to rule. Snow only ascended to the throne because of the lack of a direct male heir and her defeat of the Evil Queen. Snow and David had no such concerns about who would reign after them. They saw the light of leadership in Emma, especially after she started her lessons.

While, in other kingdoms, Emma’s peers learned to dance and paint, Emma learned how to wield a sword, strategize a battle, and ride astride a horse. She did her own dancing with her father, but she considered it fun, not lessons.

As with anyone, Emma had her troubles; she got caught sneaking sweets before dinner, sometimes she would be in a foul mood for no apparent reason, and she had the occasional nightmare. One night, however, six-year-old Emma woke with a terrible fright and was inconsolable. Ruby, her godmother who looked after her at night, ran to fetch the king and queen. 

David was first into the room, as Emma almost always asked for him. This time, Emma threw herself, not at David, but at Snow.

“I felt as though you were gone! As if I no longer had a mother.” 

Snow held her daughter close. It was the same feeling she had when she lost her own mother. 

Snow and Emma held each other, David watching his girls fondly. Never did it occur to him that this same thing happened to him the day Snow’s mother, Queen Eva, died.

The whole family wrote the night off as a bad dream, but Emma grew closer to her mother. Emma was so much like her father that she tended to spend any free time with him, whether in the stables or the study. They rode, strategized, and dueled. After that night, Emma seemed to split her time more evenly between her parents. She would sit with Snow and listen to Snow’s more elegant form of strategy: diplomacy. David was a fair hand at this as well, but Snow was raised for it. She solved problems with grace and ease, be them large between nations or small between subjects. Emma learned the importance of both negotiations and battle in lessons, but she did not understand it truly until she saw her mother in action. This time bonded the pair, and all because of a dream.

Once her brother Leopold was born, most of the kingdoms expected him to be raised as the heir to the throne. Emma was only eight at the time, but she knew she wanted to rule and serve Misthaven as their Queen. She had seen the good that comes from being queen and wanted to help her people the way her mother did. Snow and David, knowing Emma was wise beyond her years, sat her down and asked what she wanted. She told mother and father, “I want to be the Queen of Misthaven.”

There was no more need for discussion after that. Snow sent out a proclamation that, despite the birth of a male heir, Emma would remain the crown princess. Ruth and Leo would both receive the same education as Emma, but as second and third in line to the throne.

----

At the age of ten, it is very rare to know if you have a soulmate. Children, especially children as tough as Emma, find themselves having any number of bumps and bruises. Emma had no idea that she had a True Love, much like her parents had each other. 

As the next year of her life passed, Emma noticed some oddities. No matter how sedentary her day was, her feet always ached something fierce at the end of the night. She would be sitting in the study reading and feel as though she stubbed her toe. Her body sometimes ached with manual labor that it had never truly known. She also continued to feel the ache of her mother’s absence, even, on some occasions, in her mother’s presence.

But then, another heartache woke her from a peaceful dream. This time, she ran to her parents’ room. Her mother sat at the vanity, but her father was nowhere in sight.

“Where’s Papa?” Emma said through her tears. Her mother tried to talk to her, but all Emma wanted at that moment was her father. Her heart was telling her that he left them. Snow held her daughter as she wept, having no other way to console her without David.

When David entered the chamber, Emma ran into his arms. “I thought you left. I awoke and my heart was just convinced you left us forever.”

David picked Emma up and walked her over to his armchair by the fire. His little girl was growing up much too fast, but King David was a strong man who would do anything to help Emma know he was there. “Emma, my darling princess, you know I would never leave this family. I love you all too much to ever leave you.”

“Promise?”

“Always. I will never leave you, my duckling.”

As father and daughter had their moment, Snow went to Ruby, who had followed Emma, and asked for hot chocolate with cinnamon to be brought up to the suite. 

As the family drank their special treat, David told his tale of a shepherd turned prince who fell in love with a princess turned bandit. Snow watched David, engrossed in his story, and Emma, slowly leeching comfort from her favorite parts. She knew how her poor daughter was feeling. The same thing had happened to her one night, only realizing years later that she was feeling David’s abandonment of his father leaving. Snow had an inkling of what was happening to her daughter. Part of her was thrilled that Emma would have a True Love of her own, but another part was sad. That part ached for the poor child who had already lost their mother, and was now abandoned by their father. She just hoped they were not alone.

Emma retreated in on herself for a week or so, staying with one parent or another whenever possible, and watching over her siblings when it wasn’t. Slowly, she came back to herself, but the feeling of abandonment still lingered, no matter how many times her father told her that she would be stuck with him for a good long while.

The Oddities, as Emma called her strange pains, got worse. The feeling of manual labor got worse, to the point where she would simply collapse into bed at night. For a few days, Emma was so nauseous she could only keep broth down. Granny, who ran the kitchens, made sure she had plenty and also kept her hydrated. Her parents worried, but the feeling passed in two days.

The final proof came two weeks after the abandonment started while Emma was dueling with her father. They used dulled blades and never to harm, always to disarm. Emma was moving in, gracefully making her father think he had the upper hand—when, all of the sudden, the princess collapsed, screaming in pain. 

David stood horrified for a split second before racing to his daughter’s aide. She had fallen to her knees, head on the ground. When David went to rub her back, she screamed as though he hit her. People began to surround the training ring, seeing what the commotion was about. Princess Emma kept screaming out in short bursts, jerking forward with every scream. 

David lifted her shoulders, getting Emma to put her arms around his neck as he carried her into the palace. They went into Snow’s study, knowing she was not using it at that time. Emma had felt at least twenty pains, each stinging more than the last.

A servant had gone to get the queen as soon as Emma collapsed. When Snow finally found them in the study, she was absolutely horrified. There sat her husband, silently crying as he held their little girl. Snow could only see Emma’s back, her favorite yellow dress streaked with blood.

“She just fell and started screaming,” David nearly whimpered to his wife, his voice hoarse through his tears.

Emma turned as much as she was able, looking for her mother. “Mama,” she whispered, voice weaker than David’s. Snow rushed to their side taking Emma’s hand in her own. “Why is this happening, Mama? What did I do…”

Snow cut her off, “Listen to me, my duckling. This is not your fault. We will find out what is happening, and we will put an end to it. We will do everything in our power to make sure this never happens again.”

-----

Snow and David rarely fought. They could usually discuss their disagreements until a compromise was reached. This seemed to be the only time in Emma’s memory when her parents were very obviously at odds. But every time Emma walked into a room the arguments went silent, remaining civil but frustrated with each other. They would not let her know what was going on.

Emma was worried. Ever since her mysterious injuries a week ago, everyone in the castle was on edge. People would whisper where they thought she couldn’t hear and stare where they thought she couldn’t see. Her parents’ argument started then as well, and Emma had come to the conclusion that the fight was about her. 

Exactly ten days after her injuries, Emma was walking past her mother’s study and heard her parents’ shouting. Emma was done with secrets, so she decided to listen at the door.

“What do you want me to do, David? Leave some child in this condition. All indications point to the fact that they were whipped. If Emma’s loss and abandonment were right, this child has already lost their mother and been abandoned by their father. They could be all alone. And you want me to do nothing!?”

“I never said I didn’t want anything done, I just don’t think enacting military power is the way to go here.”

“And I’m not saying have our armies storm our subjects’ homes! I just want to make it publically known that we will not condone the abusive treatment of others!”

Emma had heard enough. She opened the doors and her parents’ quieted down at once. “I would like to be brought into this conversation.” Emma kept her voice calm and collected, while radiating as much authority as an eight year old can over their parents.

David spoke first. “That just isn’t a good idea, Duckling–”

“If this argument that has been going on for almost a fortnight has to do with what happened to me, then I have every right to be involved in how this is decided.”

“I know you think that, but you are still so young–”

“If I am old enough to learn to rule a kingdom, shouldn’t I be old enough to have input on how we treat the abuse of my soulmate?” 

Her father wore a look of shock, but it was her mother’s face she was drawn to. Snow looked sad, But also proud. Her daughter was going to make a wonderful queen. 

“I figured it out after he took the beating. The only power that could do that is soulmates. I don’t want him to suffer, so if we have it in our power to do something about it, then we need to help. And not just my soulmate, but others who may be in the same position. Where do we stand on ideas?” 

Emma was leading negotiations just the way her mother taught her, which made David realize it was pointless to try to argue.

“I would like to place extra soldiers in towns and villages to do outreach. Let the people know that if they need help, the crown will be there for them.” Snow restated her intentions from the beginning of their argument.

David was on the verge of interrupting, but Emma held up a hand, and he held his tongue. 

“I also want to fund orphanages all throughout the kingdom so that children without families can be provided for.” This had been a project Snow had wanted to start for a while. The incident with Emma’s soulmate just made it seem more urgent.

Emma thought for a moment, and then turned to her father and nodded, giving him his chance.

“Putting more soldiers in villages will do nothing but scare people. I know we do our best to prove to our people that we are not Regina, but the Black Knights caused too much damage to people and land for soldiers to be seen in a good light so soon after their reign of terror. I don’t oppose the orphanages nearly as much, but how are we to make sure that the children are in any better hands there than on the streets?” This was the circular argument that Snow and David had been trapped in for days.

“And what of our ports?”

Snow looked at her daughter with a furrowed brow. “Why do you think anything needs to be done at our ports?”

“Remember several days ago, when I couldn’t leave my room because of nausea? I was dizzy and felt like the world was rocking. I think he might have been at sea during the storm that rolled in a few days later.” 

Both David and Snow looked at their daughter in awe. Her lessons were clearly paying off. She would make a great ruler one day.

Before either of her parents responded, Emma came to her own solution. “We should place extra soldiers and stricter guidelines on ships that come to port. Allow search and questioning of the crew, but never seizure of the cargo, unless that ‘cargo’ includes people, then they are freed.” She looked to her parents, who still looked surprised, but nodded their agreement. “The orphanages are also a good idea, but we should place guidelines on the orphanages allowing for inspections. I think we should make a committee of advisors with a special interest in the wellbeing of children. Perhaps led by Granny or Geppetto.”

Snow was the first to react, getting up to hug her daughter. “That is an amazing idea, Emma. I am so proud of you.”

David embraced his girls. His duckling was growing up, and as proud as it made him, he also worried about how much longer she would need her doting father. “You make me proud everyday Emma, but this might be a new record.”

-----

Ten years passed. Emma’s plan for the children of the kingdom has flourished. The children of the orphanages are well-provided for, educated in the orphanages and then going on to get apprenticeships in their towns. The ports have shut down any slave trade movement through Misthaven and ensured the safety of crews.

As for Emma, she has grown into an accomplished, beautiful, and intelligent woman. Many a nobleman have come to try to court her, but Emma shows no interest in them, preferring to focus on the needs of her people. Emma does outreach programs throughout the kingdom, going from village to village and meeting with her people. If there are problems to fix or disputes to be resolved, Emma helps in the few days she is there. She also spends time in the orphanages, meeting with the children and making sure that they are taken care of.

Of course, she now spends much of her time at the palace as well. She sits by her mother’s side, assisting with the Queen’s duties. On this particular morning, they meet with leading members of the military to receive reports of the ongoings in their peaceful kingdom. And tomorrow night there will be a ball to celebrate promotions throughout the military.

Currently speaking is Captain Liam Jones. He's a handsome man, tall with wavy brown hair and nice blue eyes. Tonight, he'll be promoted from captain to rear admiral. He is young for the position, just shy of thirty, but during his captaincy aboard the kingdom’s flag ship he has justly upheld their laws and helped spearhead some of the changes made to Emma’s plans for the ports.

If the story she'd heard was correct, Captain Jones was a new member of their navy when the child protection laws were first set in place. He and a few other top students of the Naval Academy were assigned to the ports some days for hands-on training. One of the ships that pulled into port was one his father was supposedly working on. When the ship came to port, the now Captain—then Ensign—Jones found out that his father had abandoned the crew, selling his much younger brother into service to the captain. From the stories Emma heard, Jones was quite a sight to behold that day. Initially he was justly in a rage, but he pulled himself together enough to cite the new rules of the kingdom. In accordance with the new rules of port, ships with slaves working on them, there was a fine heavier than most ships could ever pay, or they could release the slaves. As the story goes, the younger Jones became a cabin boy until he was of the age to join the navy himself. He will be promoted tonight to captain, quickly working his way through the ranks.

As the current Captain Jones finishes speaking to her mother, he moves back to the line of men reporting. As her mother dismisses the men, Emma stands and walks over to Captain Jones.

“Captain Jones, a quick word, if you will.”

The captain’s eyes widen, and he kneels in front of her. “Of course, Your Royal Highness.”

“Rise, Captain Jones.” The captain comes to his feet, looking worried. “There is no need for concern. I just wondered if your brother would be attending tomorrow’s ceremony.”

“He will, Your Royal Highness.” There's still a fretful edge to the captain’s voice.

“I would like to speak to the both of you then, if you don’t mind.” Emma is curious to hear the accounts of these two men. She often hears about the benefits of the orphanages, but would like to know more about the naval aspect of her project. These brothers would be useful, having been on both sides of the situation.

“If I may be so bold as to inquire what this will be in reference to?” Jones seems almost suspicious of his princess.

“It will just be some shop talk, I am afraid. I have heard your story and I would like to know more about it, especially in reference to the safety measures I helped put into place.”

Captain Jones looks offended at Emma’s interest. He glances around, seeing that the queen and king are waiting for their daughter at the royal entrance. In a low voice he hisses, “Listen, princess, your parents have been very good to my brother and me through some very difficult times in our lives. For that, I will be forever grateful. You, however, sit here in the castle and reap the benefits of their thoughts and actions. Indeed, you just called their plan yours. My brother has been through enough hardships to fill several lifetimes, and I will not add being the princess’s storymaker to the list.” Jones gives a harsh nod of his head and storms from the room.

Emma is astonished. Not only has no one ever spoken to her like that, but Emma has an excellent popularity rate throughout the kingdom. She tours once a year, meeting with those in need and doing her best to make sure that every citizen of their kingdom is provided for.

But Emma’s shock turns to anger quickly. Just who does this Jones think he is? She'd worked hard to do her best for the kingdom and he has the gall to act as though she just sat here being frivolous. She had worked hard through much of her youth to make this kingdom a safe haven for her people. And he just comes in here acting like she has no idea of the troubles of others.

Emma storms past her parents, who are trying to ascertain the meaning of her conversation with Jones. She has much she needs to do to prepare for tonight, setting a new plan in place.

-----

Emma’s wardrobe has always been more modest than those of her peers. She rarely even tried to keep up, anyways, preferring to work on ways to help her people. But there is another reason. 

Emma’s soulmate experience had been quickly quieted throughout the castle. As most everyone who saw the incident in the training ring were soldiers of the kingdom, the king had to only ask for them to keep silent. The servants that helped tend to Emma afterward were the most devoted in the castle, too loyal to the family and charmed by the princess herself to spread the secret. The fashion now is to wear dresses with one's shoulders exposed, the neckline cutting almost straight across. The gowns are beautiful, but they would expose Emma’s scars on her upper back from the beating that was given to someone else. And Emma never wanted anyone to know.

Until now.

Emma has decided to let the kingdom know about her motivations behind her actions over the past ten years. In the morning a personal statement of hers will be issued through the kingdom. Emma dictates it to Ruth this afternoon (Ruth’s handwriting is better than Emma’s anyway) while Emma is fitted for her new dress for the ball. Johanna, the palace seamstress, is a miracle worker to have modified the dress made in a little over eight hours, but she too has always been fond of Emma.

The new dress is a simple, red, long sleeve ball gown. The only embellishments are some gems around the neckline. Her hair is up in an elegant twist with a delicate crown placed atop her head. The back shows a bit of her upper back and her scars.

Emma meets her family on the landing above the throne room. There will be an hour of ceremony before dinner and then they will move through to the ballroom for socialization and dancing afterwards.

Leo is the first to see Emma coming down the hall. His mouth drops. Never has he seen Emma looking so much like a real princess. (He has just turned twelve, meaning he now has to come to some of these royal events.) “Wow Em,” is all he can say.

Snow, David, and Ruth turn to see Emma. Ruth beams, having seen the dress earlier while she was dictating Emma’s statement. Snow knew Emma planned on changing her dress, as well as the statement she wrote and the brief words she wants to say to the men tonight. Snow smiles at her eldest, holding back the bittersweetness of watching your child become an adult.

David is speechless. He did not know about the changes to the dress. His little girl stands before him, no longer the girl who told stories of True Love to everyone she met. Now, walking towards him is a woman, elegant and beautiful. “You are beautiful, my duckling.”

“Thank you, Father.”

Before anything else can be said, Leroy begins to introduce the royal family into the function. 

Leo and Ruth descend the staircase together. Emma, as the crown princess, follows alone, then comes the king and queen. The hall is full of military men, standing to attention for their monarchs in two lines on either side of the aisle from the stairs to the dais with the thrones. The three divisions of the military—Army, Navy, and Royal Guard—are sorted by rank instead of by branch of service. This is another of Emma’s ideas from a few years back, to promote unity between the branches, as to not show favoritism to any one branch in particular. The mens’ families are also invited, as are any visiting dignitaries, and the courtiers of Misthaven.

As the royal family proceeds to the dais, the servicemen stay at attention and the rest of the guests bow and curtsy as their hosts pass. As soon as heads rise behind the family, some eyes are caught on the silvery scars on the princess’ shoulders. Some of the guests cannot help but to start whispering their own version of how the crown princess of Misthaven got what appear to be whip marks on her back.

Each family member stands in front of their throne as they wait for the king and queen to make it to the dais. Leo and Ruth have the simplest, hardly more embellished than cushioned armchairs, to their mother’s left. Snow’s throne is in the center of the dais and is the most majestic of the set, though still modest by some royal standards. David sits to her right, as he is her right hand in all that they do, and although they rule as equals, David’s throne is a touch less grand than his wife’s. Emma’s is the last of the line, though the median in design. While her parents’ seats have silver and gold inlays and their cushions are of splendid fabrics, the wooden base to Emma’s has only a few details that differentiate it from her siblings. And the cushions are much closer to theirs as well, with a bit of golden thread embroidery to distinguish it from Ruth’s and Leo’s.

As they take their place, Snow steps forward to address the partygoers. “Welcome honored guests. Tonight we celebrate our military and, in particular, the men being promoted tonight. My daughter, Crown Princess Emma, would like to share some words.” Snow sits, shortly followed by David, Ruth, and Leo. Emma stays standing and addresses the crowd.

“As her majesty said, tonight we celebrate the men who protect Misthaven and keep us safe. My family and I hold these men in the highest regards, however, today was also an anniversary. It is ten years since the start of our initiative to make the children of Misthaven safer. The origin of this project has been speculated, but there has never been confirmation of our motivations. Was it my father’s humble start, my mother’s time on the run, or the birth of their children that put the idea in the mind of our gracious queen and king? Well, today the speculation can cease. I am here to set the issue to rest.

“As we all know, our two esteemed rulers share the truest of true love bonds. They are soulmates of the deepest nature, sharing feelings, both emotional and physical. A little over ten years ago, we received confirmation that I, too, have a soulmate. Although it should have been a joyous realization, it was dimmed in the cruel manner in which we found out. You see, my soulmate was whipped. And as we share our true love bond, I felt as he did that day.” 

The crowd murmurs in surprise at the princess’s revelation. Only the courtiers closest to the royal family, an extension of the family itself, had ever known what happened all those years ago.

“As you can see, I bear the marks from the horrendous encounter.” The princess turns, showing the marks that can be seen on her shoulders. After giving the crowd time to see her scars, Emma turns back to face the masses and continues, “I do not reveal this now to gain sympathy or praise. I have kept this to myself all these years, not out of shame, but out of devotion. My soulmate went through something awful, and I never wanted this to be the reason we were drawn together, the scars and shared pain. I wanted to find love without proof, not displaying our scars before everyone. Recent conversations have proven that not everyone understands my devotion though. Not only to my soulmate, but to the kingdom at large. The laws enacted a decade ago were my idea. I wanted to protect not only my true love but all the children of the realm. I obviously could not have done this without our gracious monarchs, but the solution evaded us until we came together as a group to combat the injustices that plagued the children. No solution is ever perfect, and we work to improve everyday. If you take nothing else from this story, please know that I share my parents' passion for improving the lives of our citizens. I cannot and will not sit back in my luxurious life and let our people suffer. I will strive to protect not only our children but all the citizens of the kingdom, including the military officers who are here tonight. So I will hand the ceremony back over to our benevolent queen, my mother Snow White.” 

Emma turns to her mother and curtsies, and Snow pulls her daughter into her arms before she can fully rise. “I am so proud of you, dear,” Snow whispers.

“Thank you, Mother,” Emma breathes back, releasing her mother to take her seat for the ceremony.

As the promotions are given, Emma thinks back to her speech, particularly the reaction of one rear admiral-to-be. The older Jones brother started the speech with the proper steady attentiveness that military men wear in formal situations. However, Emma had seen flashes of surprise and a return of the anger after she had shown her scars. His gaze had flickered between her and someone in the crowd of soldiers. It was not an encouraging sign, but Emma is not one to be deterred. She plans to speak to the newly promoted Rear Admiral Jones and see if she cannot find an amicable solution to their rift. The Jones men are rising fast through the naval ranks, which means that Emma will likely have to work with them for years to come. She does not want that to be a contentious relationship.

Emma is pulled from her thoughts as her mother promotes men to the rank of captain. The younger Jones brother, Killian, is called forward to receive his promotion, and Emma is stunned. Never before has she seen a man so… beautiful.

Killian Jones has dark hair, nearly black, cut short and styled back. His frame is long and lean, clearly honed from years at sea. But it is his eyes that catch Emma’ attention. They are the clearest blue she has ever seen. She remembers his brother’s eyes, and while the color is almost identical, something is different. The princess stares, trying to see what the difference is, but Killian Jones is already taking his place back in the masses. Throughout the rest of the ceremony, Emma strains to see Killian Jones again but is unable to through the crowd.

Dinner is slow. All Emma wants is to seek out the young captain, to speak to him. It is a feeling the princess has never felt, the need to seek someone out for no reason but desire.

After the feast, the crowd is shown into the ballroom by the staff. Once the throne room holds only the royal family, they bid Leo goodnight. (He will not attend a ball for a few years yet.) Leo is escorted upstairs by Granny, who says she is too old to attend a ball. But before Granny takes her leave, she hugs Emma, sharing her pride in the young woman she has become. As Granny is not one for displays of her affection, Emma is surprised by the old woman.

That hug from Granny is enough to knock Captain Jones from Emma’s mind until they enter the ballroom. The royal family is, once again, announced, and the king and queen open the ball with the first dance. When the music starts, Emma starts searching the gathered crowd for the newly minted captain. But before Emma can find the younger Jones, the older finds her. 

Rear Admiral Jones bows to the princess. “May I have this dance, Your Highness?”

Emma pauses for a moment, confused. However, she does know she needed to speak to this Jones as well, so she curtsies and accepts his hand. “Of course, Admiral Jones.”

They move to the dance floor and bow respectfully to each other. Neither of them speak as they start to dance, and Emma’s eyes start to scan the crowd again.

“Looking for my brother, Princess?” Rear Admiral Jones states, rather bluntly. His eyes, so similar in color to his brother, have a storm raging behind them.

“Why would you ever say that, Admiral?” Emma did not want to admit her curiosity to the older Jones brother, seeing as he already does not seem to like her.

“I find it curious that you knew of my brother’s story before meeting him, as you admitted yesterday. And then today, your timeline of your own true love story lines up conspicuously well with my brother’s unfortunate history. Why are you so fascinated with Killian?” The change in tone when he mentions her ‘true love’ indicates he does not believe a word she said.

The princess focuses all her attention on the admiral. “What do you mean by that? Your story is quite the legend in the town, and we are not as disconnected from our people as you seem to think we are. I had heard of you rescuing him from a ship not long after we passed the laws ensuring children’s safety. Just because it happened close together, I see no other links to my past and his. Furthermore, do you not believe that I sustained these scars through a soulmate bond? Why would I lie about such a rare and beautiful thing, and such a tragic experience on top of it?” Emma is proud of her ability to keep her voice level, though her agitation starts to peek through her tone towards the end of her inquiry.

“Is it not curious that soulmate bonds only appear within royalty? It seems to be a tactic to place them further above their people. As to how you got those scars, maybe you aren’t as perfect as you would have us commoners believe, or perhaps you had a strict governess. I don't really care how they happened. I care that you seem to be fixated on my brother. So, Princess, I ask again. Why Killian?”

“The stories of true love in royal couples spread because stories of royalty spread further than others, but I have seen true love in everyday life, and I am sorry that you have not. And I am sorry you do not believe my account of my life, but it did happen as I said. I still do not understand the connection to your brother, but as far as I am concerned, he is a good officer with an overprotective big brother. If you ask my younger siblings, they would say that is a curse, but I am sure it was seen as a blessing when you rescued him all those years ago. I will ask once more that you believe that I had no other ulterior motive to tell my story, other than to settle questions in the minds of our citizens who, like you, have their reservations about me as a ruler. I intend to do my best for this kingdom, and to do that, I need to have the belief of my people.”

The song ends and Emma steps away from the admiral, curtsying to leave, but, as Admiral Jones bows in return, he asks “You truly didn’t know that Killian was whipped about a month before I found him?”

Emma freezes on the dance floor and, as a new song starts up, she looks at Liam Jones. “A month?” That would mean…

“I could never get many details about the beating from Killian, but one of his crewmates told me a little about it. It happened a little more than a month before I found him, about three weeks before the child protection laws were in place. Your story may have happened around the same time.”

Standing in the middle of all the twirling couples, Emma and the admiral are in the way. She pulls him to the balcony as her head swims. Could it be…

“I just want to protect my brother. And I know you are right, I am overprotective. But after our father abandoned him, selling him to slavery, I just knew that I had to protect him. Even if it meant protecting him from the very royalty that saved him.”

“When?” Emma asks, starting to pace. She is now remembering a night long ago that had been burned into her memory. 

Admiral Jones looks confused. “I don’t understand, Your Highness.”

“When did your father leave?” Emma demands, putting more force in her tone than intended, but she needs to know. Is this why she cannot get the younger Jones out of her thoughts?

“He abandoned Killian two weeks before the beating.”

“And your mother? She died two years before that?”

“How could you possibly know…”

“Because I felt it. I woke one night with a terrible heartache and ran to my mother. I had the terrible feeling that she had died, and I needed to prove she was still there. That was my first time experiencing my soulmate’s emotions.” Emma cannot breathe. She moves to one of the benches near the railing of the balcony, letting the cool sea breeze calm her. Of all the ways to find her soulmate, she never imagined it would be during a fight with his brother.

In the shock of the moment, neither Admiral Jones nor the princess noticed someone joining them on the balcony. But as Princess Emma catches her breath, Admiral Jones turns to leave the princess to her thoughts and sees his brother standing by the doors in shock. He strides quickly to Killian, wanting to talk to him before the princess sees him.

Killian finds his voice before Liam reaches the doors. “Brother, what is going on out here?” It is quite the scene to walk into, his brother having a word with the crown princess of Misthaven, and that is not even the strangest part. From what Killian has overheard, Princess Emma felt it when their mother had died. That must mean she is the soulmate to either him or his brother. And Liam has never been whipped.

Emma looks up at the sound of Captain Jones’s voice. Their eyes lock and for a moment, Emma sees confusion in his sky blue eyes. She stands, watching his eyes for the illumination of clarity to shine through.

“Four years ago, did you cut your arm?” Killian asks, his right hand moving to his left forearm. Under his uniform there is a scar from an injury he could not remember sustaining. It was as if it appeared from nowhere.

“I was thrown from my horse as I rode through the woods. I cut my arm on a rock in the fall,” Emma whispers, almost timidly.

Liam stands, watching his brother realize what is happening. He knows he ought to leave, but he turns to the princess. Liam needs to see her reaction. The shyness in her voice throws him for a loop and he finally believes her. As his brother moves from the doorway, Liam Jones steps back into the ballroom, leaving Killian and the princess to talk.

Killian barely notices his brother leaving, but the sounds of the doors closing makes him snap back to reality a bit. He’s speaking to the crown princess and has not addressed her properly at all. He kneels before the princess, averting his eyes from the beauty that stands in front of him. “I apologize, Your Highness, for my bluntness earlier and the lack of proper address. You must understand the shock…”

Emma moves to stand right in front of the captain. “I do not need your apologies nor your formalities, Captain. Please stand.” As he does, the princess extends her hand. “I think, after all that has been revealed tonight, we should be properly introduced. I am Emma.”

Killian grasps Emma’s hand, keeping eye contact as he kisses it. “I am Captain Killian Jones, Your Highness.”

Emma smirks, “I thought I said we need no formalities. To you, I hope to always be Emma.”

Still in awe of what is happening, Killian flushes slightly at the thought of addressing the princess by her given name. “That may take some time to settle in, Princess. It feels awfully disrespectful to address royalty by their given name.”

Emma chuckles slightly, “I hope that you can come to think of me as more than just royalty.”

Killian scratches behind his ear, an old nervous habit. “I could never think of you as ‘just’ anything. It will be a journey, but one I am more than willing to embark upon.” 

For a moment, the princess and her captain stand on the balcony, looking into each other’s eyes, smiling at Killian’s sweet words and the thought of a future spent learning more about the other.

Killian takes a deep breath and says, “Would you care to dance, Emma?”

She responds with a smile that outshines all the stars. “With you, Killian, always.”

They walk back into the ballroom as they will do everything from now on: together.

Final Notes: So in my vision Emma's ballgown in the dress from the season 3 finale with a modified neckline so it is off the shoulders and would show the top of her scars. Also I do not like the ponytail look for Killian, so his hair is short and slicked back for the ceremony. I envisioned it like his hair at the wedding.

[cssns]

It’s That Time of Year Again!!!!

Time to see if there’s still interest for another year of the Captain Swan Supernatural Summer!!!

We the mods have had a chance to discuss, and if there’s enough interest in another round, then we are willing to go again. So let us know by replying to this post and please help us spread the word!! We can’t do it alone! We need your help!! We’ll be making a decision sometime next week!!

[eastwesthomeisbest]

Fairy Dance

(Don't you know Emma?! It's you)

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

This one was inspired by "Deluge" - an amazing story written by @snowbellewells . I've already said it, but I'll say it again, this plot could make a great fantasy novel. I really liked the idea of ​​fairies with glowing marks on their skin.

For @cssns event

@kmomof4 @snowbellewells @lifeinahole27 @cocohook38 @ilovemesomekillianjones @teamhook @resident-of-storybrooke

[wyntereyez]

A Little Batty

Here it is... my @cssns contribution! It's late because I've been burned out, and it was originally going to have art by @spartanguard and be betaed by @ohmakemeahercules, but because I didn't get anything done until the last minute, I didn't want to impose.

--------

A Little Batty

Emma’s nights volunteering at the Storybrooke Bat Rehabilitation Center (locally referred to as ‘The Belfry’) weren’t something she’d ever imagined herself doing. She was no Disney princess; she didn’t have a natural rapport with animals. But The Belfry was her sister-in-law’s baby, and who was Emma to resist Mary Margaret’s pleading eyes? And she had to admit, any animal that let you roll it into a little burrito was cute.

Plus, her nights fell on the nights Henry was over at Neal’s. Though she didn’t think she was one of Those Moms who missed their children whenever they weren’t around, Emma admitted to herself that she was lonely when he was gone. Their creaky old house suddenly felt big and empty, and it became too much for Emma. At least at The Belfry, she could socialize without going to the effort of getting dressed up and going out in public.

Ruby was already there when Emma arrived. Unlike Emma, she did have a way with animals (“Not all animals; just creatures of the night,” she’d joked) and was the best at handling the animals when their cages needed cleaning.

And then there was Mary Margaret, who really was a Disney Princess, and you couldn’t convince Emma otherwise. All animals loved her, and she loved all animals. 

They were gathered around Mary Margaret’s desk, discussing distribution of chores (Emma was not on cage-cleaning duty tonight, thank goodness) when they were interrupted by the arrival of William Smee, the man in charge of the local marina.

Emma thought at first he’d come specifically looking for her as sheriff, but he’d only nodded in greeting and headed straight to Mary Margaret.

He was wearing the thick gloves he used for dock work, and held what looked like a ratty old beach towel cupped in both hands. “Mrs. Nolan! I found a bat down at the docks. I didn’t know what else to do with him, so I brought him straight here.”

It was unusual for Smee to be working this late at night, especially past the tourist season, and Emma instinctively wondered why. She mentally scolded herself; she needed to stop being paranoid; not everyone did things for duplicitous reasons. Like her ex.

“Let’s see what you have,” Mary Margaret said. She opened the desk drawer and withdrew a set of the thick leather gloves they used when handling the bats. Smee pulled away the top layer of the towel, just enough to reveal his captive without releasing it.

Emma expected a large brown bat; they made up most of the local bat population, and thus most of The Belfry’s residents. She wasn’t prepared for when the towel fell away from a sharp, fox-like muzzle and huge eyes, topped with large, pointed ears.

It was a fruit bat. A rather large one, at that. It stared calmly back at them with its wide, dark eyes, and twitched its ears. It seemed completely unbothered at being a bat-burrito, suggesting it was accustomed to being handled. It yawned, exposing sharp canines, one of which had a small chip in it.

“Where did you find it?” Mary Margaret asked as she pulled on the thick leather gloves.

“He was down at the docks,” Smee said. “Nestled in a coil of rope. I almost missed him, but he squeaked at me. It’s like he wanted to get my attention.”

The bat squeaked, as though it were chiming in.

“He didn’t even put up a fight. He was easy to catch - you’ll see why,” Smee said as the last of the towel fell away, leaving the bat exposed in Mary Margaret’s hand. Annoyed, the bat spread its wings, and Emma ducked out of the way of the enormous right wing. 

It was only after she righted herself that noticed his left wing, which Mary Margaret had caught and was gently holding. It was only half the length of the right, ending with a club of scar tissue just below what would have been the wrist. Mary Margaret was examining it critically, frowning.

“It’s an old injury,” Mary Margaret said, releasing the wing. The bat gave her a sour look and tucked it to his side. “No way he’s been living wild. He’s probably someone’s pet; a sailor, maybe, since you found him at the docks. He’s definitely used to being handled.”

He was also very obviously a ‘he,’ Emma couldn’t help but notice when the bat rolled over onto his back, his rear towards Emma. He looked towards her, gave a startled squeak, and wrapped his wings around himself.

Emma needed to stop anthropomorphizing the residents, because there was no way he could be embarrassed by accidentally flashing her.

“We’ll put him in one of the isolation cages for now,” Mary Margaret decided. “Just because he seems healthy now, doesn’t mean there’s nothing wrong with him. Ruby, I brought a banana for a snack; it’s in the break room if you could grab it for me, please?”

“Do you have any idea where he came from?” Emma asked Smee. Fruit bats were illegal to have as pets, and while Emma didn’t think the owner would get more than a fine, they could lead to a larger illegal animal trade organization. “Anyone new around the docks?” It was the wrong time of year for it, though; most of the boats that came to Storybrooke for the summer tourist season had departed in the last few weeks. It was possible one of them had left the bat, but that meant he’d been on the docks fending for himself for at least a week. He look too healthy for a pet that had been abandoned that long.

“We have one ship that’s wintering over for repairs, but he’s not the bat’s owner,” Smee said. He seemed very certain of this, but there was something shifty in his gaze as he said it. Emma prided herself at being good at detecting lies and Smee…wasn’t lying, not exactly, but he wasn’t telling the truth, either. Before Emma could pursue it further, however, Mary Margaret interrupted.

“Obviously, he can’t be released into the wild,” Mary Margaret sighed. “He seems pretty docile; we can probably put him in the bat educational program, assuming he’s healthy and remains easy to handle. Thank you for bring him, Mr. Smee. We’ll take good care of him.”

Smee took this as his cue to leave, but not without an odd backward glance at the bat.

Emma told herself the bat did not nod at Smee.

Ruby returned with the banana and began to peel it. At the sight of it, the bat began squeaking and straining towards it. “Someone’s hungry,” she cooed, and held it out. The bat’s mouth opened wide, and he tore off a chunk that looked like it should have been too large for him.

They let him eat as much as he wanted while Mary Margaret held him. When he was finished, consuming almost the entire thing (How? Emma wondered. Where did he put it all?), Mary Margaret said, “I need to feed the others. Emma, could you get some gloves and put this guy in the furthest isolation cage?”

Emma grabbed another set of gloves. “Isn’t he too big?” The cages were designed for much smaller brown bats; he’d be cramped.

“He should be okay for a few days. And since he can’t fly, we don’t have to worry about too little space. He should have enough room to spread his wings, at least.”

The bat chittered, and licked banana mush off its muzzle. “We’ll have more fruit for you tomorrow,” Mary Margaret promised. “A variety. How do you feel about strawberries?” She chattered on as she transferred him to Emma.

The bat squeaked excitedly.

Which was a valid reaction to strawberries, but couldn’t be in response to Mary Margaret’s words. Right? 

Could bats pick up words, like dogs? Maybe he did understand ‘strawberries.’

Emma carried the bat to the back area, past the large, open enclosures that housed the permanent populations, as well as the wild ones that would be released as soon as they were ready. The isolation cages were smaller, designed to make it easy to catch a bat that would need constant care and observation.

She opened the door of the last cage, the largest, and gently lowered her hands. It took some prodding to move him off her palms, and at last he moved with great reluctance. He crawled across the floor of the cage to the bars, and immediately began to climb them to the top, unhindered by the missing finger bones of his wing, then crawled around the top until he found the perfect spot. He anchored his feet in place and dropped his body until he was hanging upside down, eye to eye with Emma. Then, with a great yawn, he pulled his wings around himself until only the tips of his ears were visible.

“Stay out of trouble,” she told him.

Emma could have sworn he’d winked at her.

~oOo~

Emma stopped by the marina at the end of her shift, curious if the bat’s owner had returned. Her attention was drawn to a ship she hadn’t seen before, a massive wooden ship that looked like it would be more at home in the Caribbean than in Maine. It was moored at the largest dock, and Emma saw it had no sails, nor any rigging. It must have been the ship Smee said was staying over for the winter, since that was the only reason to derig it. She hadn’t expected anything so… spectacular. The ship was gorgeous. She studied it curiously for several minutes, wondering who would own such a vessel, then shrugged and headed towards the main office. The door was locked, however; Smee had already left, and there was no one else on the docks.

She shrugged and headed to The Belfry.

Mary Margaret was already there, feeding the residents. It alway icked Emma out, to see her gentle sister-in-law feeding the ecstatic bats their mealworms.

“How’s our newest resident?” Emma asked.

“He was just waking up when I checked on him,” Mary Margaret said. “He looks alert, with no obvious signs of illness. The vet stopped by earlier to take some samples, so we should know soon if there’s any diseases we should worry about.” She frowned. “There was a bit of blood in his cage, but the vet couldn’t find any injuries. Did you cut yourself when you put him in the cage last night?”

“No,” she said, but examined her hands anyway.

“Huh. Well, if you’d like to feed him, there’s a bowl of fresh fruit in the fridge for him.” Mary Margaret grinned. “At least you’ll be able to feed this one without screaming,” she teased.

Emma scowled, because her revulsion to mealworms was totally valid, thank you very much.

Ruby had thrown a mealworm at her.

It had gone down her cleavage.

Emma was never going to touch a damn worm again.

Emma found the bowl of fruit, snagging a chunk of melon for herself before picking up the bowl and carrying it to the quarantine cage.

He was clinging to the bars of the cage when she arrived, his nose pressed to the fine mesh between the bars as though he’d been waiting for her. When he saw her - or, more likely, the bowl of fruit - he began to squeak excitedly.

Emma was charmed.

The name ‘Killian’ had been written on the paper taped to his cage, in fancy penmanship that Emma didn’t recognize.

“Killian, huh?” Emma asked.

The bat squeaked.

“Okay, if you say so.”

She snagged another piece of fruit - a strawberry this time, much to the bat’s indignation - then placed the bowl at the bottom of the cage. Killian quickly climbed down and hopped into the bowl, quickly losing himself in fruity bliss.

Emma laughed, then went to help Mary Margaret finish up.

“Who named him Killian?” she asked.

Mary Margaret frowned. “I thought you did. The name was there when I got here, and you were the last one to see him.”

“If I’d named him, it would be something like ‘Batty,’” Emma pointed out. “Or possibly ‘Dracula.’” She shrugged. “He seems to like it, so we may as well keep it.”

Mary Margaret gave her a strange look. “I’m sure he doesn’t care,” was all she said.

~oOo~

Killian’s test results came back clean. As long as his phlegmatic temperament continued, he’d be introduced to the other bats, though he’d be kept in a cage alone to accommodate his disability. He seemed fine with this; the smaller cage was beside the bigger one, so he could watch and communicate with the other bats if he chose. It also had bars that were easier to grip and climb. For a fruit bat with full, functional wings, it wouldn’t be ideal, but since Killian couldn’t fly, all he needed was enough room to stretch his wings to the fullest without touching the bars.

When he continued to be easy to handle, they decided it was safe to hold him without gloves. He seemed to like this, settling into Emma’s hands contentedly.

That was how she found out that bats <i>purred.</i>

“Oh,” Mary Margaret said. “He really likes you! Guess you’re his official caretaker from now on.”

Killian continued to purr in her hands. Emma decided maybe this wasn’t so bad.

Because he was so comfortable with people, even seeming to prefer their company, Emma took to carrying him around the sanctuary. Sometimes he’d be burritoed in a blanket, other times he’d drape over her shoulder, that incredibly long intact wing lazily hanging down. He seemed very curious about the computer whenever she played around with it at the desk (officially ‘doing paperwork’ for the sanctuary, but actually looking at memes) and she’d see his wide, dark eyes staring at the images.

He seemed especially interested in the staffing schedule.

Emma was also the only one he allowed to ‘fly’ him. It was something they did with elderly bats, holding them and carrying them around the sanctuary, wings spread, as if they were flying. Killian seemed bemused by the whole process, but allowed himself to be carried around. 

Especially since the reward was always a bowl of fresh fruit - and gentle ear scritches from Emma.

~oOo~

Emma hadn’t intended to start dating again. Her divorce from Neal had been messy; he hadn’t been willing to let her go, despite his affair with his now-girlfriend Tamara. She thought she was done with men.

And then her sister-in-law introduced her to Walsh. They’d met when Mary Margaret had gone to the new furniture store in town, and she’d been charmed by his politeness. 

Emma had tried to refuse Mary Margaret’s efforts to set them up, but then David had joined in. Her brother had thus far sided with Emma, and had talked Mary Margaret out of multiple attempts at a set-up. For him to approve of Walsh? That meant something. So Emma had reluctantly agreed to the date.

Walsh felt… safe. He was polite, respectful. Not particularly adventurous, which would have been a big turn-off once, but now it had appeal. Best of all, he didn’t argue with her every decision. She’d forgotten what it was like to be in a relationship with no drama.

One date became two, and plans were made for a third.

~oOo~

Emma arrived late to the sanctuary on the night of her second date. She hadn’t wanted to be out so late, but Walsh had admitted to being something of a night owl, and didn’t really eat until around nine in the evening. Emma had had to have a pre-dinner before dinner, because she knew she’d starve to death if she waited that long.

But she’d had more fun than expected. And eating later in the evening meant fewer diners, which had made the restaurant more intimate. 

She’d liked it.

And the dim interior made it harder to maintain eye contact with Walsh. She’d noticed that he had a really intense gaze, and tried to meet hers as often as he could. It was… uncomfortable, for reasons Emma couldn’t really explain.

Emma put it out of her mind as she turned her attention on the anxious fruit bat, who was perched with his muzzle sticking out of the cage. At the sight of her, he gave several ear-piercing shrieks.

“Sorry! Sorry!”

Killian gave her a sour look.

“Hey! Don’t give me that! It’s not like you can tell time!”

He continued to glower.

“Okay, sorry!”

He tilted his head, considering. Then, with a sound that was almost a purr, he extended his right wing towards her thumb, snagging it with his clever little finger, and pulling her hand closer. He was about to pull himself onto her hand when he suddenly froze.

His nose twitched, wrinkled, and he bared his sharp little teeth. And then he did something he’d never done before.

He hissed.

Emma jerked her hands back. “Whoa! What’s with you today?”

He continued to stare at her as though she smelled rancid, and he wouldn’t come near her. Rather than stress him out further, Emma let him be. It wouldn’t hurt him to miss a night of flying.

~oOo~

A bat’s rejection shouldn’t have stung.

Killian continued to be edgy the rest of the night, so she left him alone.

After her shift, Emma realized she was too restless to sleep. Maybe it was a lingering excitement over the date, or maybe Emma really had taken Killian’s tantrum personally, but she didn’t want to go home. It was Neal’s weekend with Henry, and she couldn’t face being cooped up in that empty house.

So she went to The Rabbit Hole, Storybrooke’s only nightlife scene. She drew a few glances as she walked in, but they lost interest as soon as they saw she was off duty. She went straight to the bar and ordered a strawberry daiquiri, because apparently hanging around a fruit bat made you crave fruity things.

She’d been there maybe ten minutes when someone sat beside her. A richly accented voice that definitely did not send a shiver down Emma’s spine asked for a rum. 

Emma waited until he’d been served his drink before turning to him and asking, “New in town?” 

He turned, and Emma’s breath hitched when she met those blue, blue eyes. “What gave it away, Love?” he asked, amused.

English accents turned her into putty. Especially when combined with a smoldering gaze.

Mistakes had been made.

“I know everyone in this town,” she said. “You stick out like a sore thumb.”

“Oh? And who might you be?”

“I’m the sheriff,” she warned him. 

“And you don’t take kindly to strangers ‘round these parts?” he mocked, adapting a twang.

“We’re fine with strangers - so long as they don’t bring trouble.”

He grinned, flashing sharp teeth. “And I look like trouble?”

Emma arched an eyebrow. 

His smile widened. Oh, he knew exactly how he looked.

“Killian Jones,” he said, offering his hand. Emma lifted a brow when, instead of shaking, he brushed his lips across the back of her hand. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

She hmmphed, refusing to be charmed by his old world manners.

Emma’s eyes fell on his left wrist, where a thick leather brace supported a rather alarming looking metal hook. His gaze followed hers. “Forgive the hardware,” he said. “Crude, I know, but it’s far more useful sailing than a more delicate prosthesis or a false hand.” He pulled his arm closer to his chest, not quite hiding it, but at least making it look less threatening.

His name wasn’t the only thing he had in common with their fruit bat.

“Are you a sailor, Mr. Jones?”

“Killian,” he reminded her. “Or Captain Jones, if you prefer to be formal. And I’m actually a pirate.”

Emma scoffed, then realized, “That old-fashioned ship in the marina! It’s yours!”

Killian nodded. “Aye, the Jolly Roger,” he said. That seemed a bit too on point. “I do charter sails for history buffs, as well as doing movie and television appearances. You’d be surprised what people will pay for a two-week Caribbean cruise with a dashing rapscallion like meself.” He grinned, and once again Emma had the unsettling thought that his teeth were very, very sharp.

“And what brings you here, Captain?”

“My ship is in need of repair, so I’m going to winter over in your lovely town,” he said. 

“Odd; Granny Lucas didn’t mention taking in any lodgers,” Emma noted.

“I’ve made other arrangements,” Killian shrugged.

Maybe he’d leased a place, then. The cottages were usually only available to lease to summer tourists, but she wouldn’t be surprised if one of the owners made an exception.

“You don’t happen to own a bat, do you?” she asked suddenly.

He blinked rapidly, blindsided.

He had beautiful eyelashes.

“Like…a baseball bat?” he asked slowly.

“Never mind,” Emma muttered. She pulled a couple of crumpled bills out of her pocket and set them on the bar. She stood up. “Nice to meet you Mr. - Captain Jones. I’m sure I’ll see you around.”

“I didn’t get your name,” he said. It wasn’t a demand; rather, a polite inquiry. He was allowing her to be mysterious if she chose. Not that it would be hard to find out her name, since she was the sheriff. Still, she appreciated it.

“Emma Swan,” she said.

“See you around, Swan,” he said, low and throaty, and she totally did not shiver.

She left before she could embarrass herself.

~oOo~

Emma’s third date with Walsh led to a fourth.

After each date, Killian-the-bat would give her that angry hiss, and Emma wondered if he were somehow jealous that someone else was taking her time.

But he’d eventually get over it.

Which was probably a good thing, because they had their first school visit of the semester, and if he’d been cranky, he’d have missed out on having dozens of adoring children who cooed at him and gave him all the fruit he could ever want.

Though he wasn’t too crazy about being touched by their sticky fingers. But he allowed it, showing more patience than Emma had ever had.

She saw Killian-the-human several times over the next week; usually at the bar, once, coming out of the hardware store with items she assumed were for ship repair. Each time, he gave her a significant Look that she couldn’t read.

And then it happened, on a night when Emma was walking out of Granny’s diner with a bag full of carryout containers and a couple of donuts in preparation for an overnight shift at The Belfry. 

After three weeks of casual conversation, Killian asked her out for a drink. 

And Emma…she wanted to go.

Even though she barely knew him, she felt a spark with him, something that was more than just the thrill of his smoldering gaze.

“I’m actually seeing someone,” she said.

She hadn’t meant to sound regretful. She shouldn’t feel bad about dating Walsh, right?

“You don’t sound so certain,” Killian observed.

Dammit. “No, I am,” she said firmly. “He’s…nice.”

“All right,” Killian said. “I’ll see you around then, Swan.”

Emma released a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. That had been harder than she’d expected. And a little part of her had feared he wouldn’t respond well to being ‘friendzoned.’

She watched him walk away, swaggering, then turned and stepped forward - into something very solid.

Walsh.

A deep frown was etched into his features. Emma wondered how long he’d been standing there in the dark, and if he’d heard everything.

“Who was that?” he asked.

Emma didn’t like his tone. Clearly, he had been eavesdropping.

“Just someone wintering over,” Emma said. “We talk occasionally.”

“He seemed to want to do more than talk,” Walsh said. His jaw was clenched, and Emma frowned. Oh, no. They were not going to do this.

“It doesn’t matter what he wanted,” Emma said coolly.

“Come to dinner with me,” Walsh said. It wasn’t a question.

Oh, hell no. She was not going to put up with this possessive bullshit. 

“I have other plans,” she said.

“Like what?” he demanded.

“That’s none of your business,” she snapped.

Something flickered across Walsh’s face, then he abruptly deflated. “Sorry,” he said. “I know I have nothing to worry about. I just don’t want to lose you, Emma.”

Emma studied him, all senses on alert. But he seemed sincere enough. Still… “We’ll discuss this tomorrow,” she told him wearily. “Right now, I have to get going.”

She made it to The Belfry just as Ruby was leaving for the day. “I left some bags of popcorn for you for later,” she told Emma as she pulled on her coat. “There’s some Milk Duds, too.”

Emma grinned. “You’re the best, Ruby.”

“I know,” the other woman grinned toothily.

Nights at The Belfry tended to be long. Emma only over-nighted once a week, and she used the time to binge watch shows. The last time she’d done it, Killian-the-bat had sat on her shoulder and squeaked at the screen.

She’d just checked the bats and was about to put a bag of popcorn in the microwave when she heard the front door open.

Emma froze. She could have sworn she locked it.

And then a familiar voice called, “Emma?” and she relaxed. Marginally. Why was Walsh here?

“Walsh, hey,” Emma said cautiously. “We don’t really allow guests this late at night.”

“I’m not a guest, I’m your boyfriend,” he reminded her. 

Emma went over to the front desk, sitting on the edge. Her hand crept over to the lamp on the corner.

“That doesn’t matter. You shouldn’t be here.”

“Why not? Is he here?”

Nope. Not doing this.

“Walsh… If you’re going to do this, then I don’t think we should see each other anymore. I’m not going to put up with someone who doesn’t trust me and stalks me at work.”

Walsh leaned back, staring down at her. But he made no move to leave. Emma braced herself for the inevitable meltdown.

Instead, he threw back his head and laughed.

At her shocked look, he said, “Did you think that would hurt me? It’s a relief, actually,” Walsh said. “Having to pretend to be interested in you is draining. You’re too abrasive, and you don’t trust anyone. Which, admittedly, was the right choice here. But it’s over now, and my master will reward me well.”

His eyes were red. Not bloodshot, but glowing a baleful crimson. “What the fu-”

Then their eyes locked, and Emma felt…something. It writhed around in her mind, clawing into her, leaving her feeling dirty. He was inside her head somehow, and she wanted him out, out, OUT!

Emma jerked her gaze away, and Walsh snarled.

“Why isn’t this working?” Walsh fumed. “You should be mine!” Then he smirked, showing off far too sharp teeth. “Guess we’ll have to do this the fun way, then.”

Emma reacted. Her hand flew to the heavy lamp on the desk corner, and she flung it at Walsh’s head. He didn’t react in time, and it hit him squarely in the forehead.

He didn’t even flinch.

It should have taken him down, or at least disoriented him long enough to continue attacking or escape. No man should have taken a direct hit to the head and just shaken it off.

He wasn’t normal.

He wasn’t human.

So Emma ran.

Her lunge to the side caught Walsh by surprise, and he didn’t immediately react. It bought her a few precious seconds to dart through the door leading towards the cage room.

There was an emergency exit in the back of the sanctuary. Emma sprinted towards it.

Walsh stepped out of the shadows, blocking her path.

<i>How?!</i> How had he gotten in front of her? It wasn’t possible!

“I’m not here to kill you, Emma,” Walsh said in exasperation. “I’m just going to take you to my master.”

Killian shrieked, beating his wings against the bars of his cage. Walsh ignored him.

“But…nobody said I couldn’t rough you up a bit.” His hands extended towards her, tipped in razor sharp claws.

Killian fell silent.

Emma dropped to the floor and kicked her leg out, hitting Walsh in the knee with bone-breaking force. It didn’t do more than stagger him, however, and he quickly recovered. Emma rolled away, but misjudged her direction and slammed into one of the cages. The bats inside fluttered their wings in agitation.

Walsh lunged towards her.

And then Walsh crashed to the floor. Something bumped and rolled across the floor, coming to a stop before Emma. Walsh’s head, the red fading from his eyes as they slowly dimmed. 

Standing over the body was Killian, the human Killian, dressed in black leather and wielding what looked like a pirate’s cutlass. “Are you all right, Love?” he asked.

His eyes had the same red glow as Walsh’s.

“What the fuck?” Emma shrieked.

Killian gave her a crooked smile.

A fang poked out from behind his lips.

“Apologies, Love,” Killian Jones said. The red was fading from his eyes, though the sharp fangs remained. “I’ll clean up the mess.”

Emma just stared at his teeth.

One of them was chipped. Just like Killian-the-bat’s.

“You’re…you’re…” 

“A vampire, yes,” Killian said. As if it were the most normal thing in the world. But Emma supposed that made more sense than what she’d been about to say: You’re my bat! “As was your…boyfriend.”

“He wasn’t my boyfriend,” Emma muttered. “It was just a couple of dates.”

“Mmph.” He crouched down, examining Walsh’s body. Then, to her horror, he dragged his finger through the small pool of blood and put it in his mouth.

“He’s a neophyte; probably not more than a year since he was changed. Which means his master has to be close by, because a vampire this young seldom strays far from his master.” Killian studied her closely. “Which means he was specifically sent to seduce you. I wonder why?”

Emma didn’t want to think about that. She didn’t know, she wasn’t special. 

“You somehow resisted his attempt to control you,” Killian continued. “That’s a rare gift.”

”You should be mine,” Walsh had said. 

“How can you be a vampire?” There was a shrill edge of panic to her voice. This was too much, far too much.

“It’s a long story,”  he said. “I won’t get into that tonight. All you need to know is that I hunt vampires like him, those who break our laws and hunt humans.”

“But… I’ve seen you during the day.” Walsh, on the other hand, she’d never before sunset. She’d just assumed he was a night owl, not a freaking <i>vampire</i>

“I’m over 300 years old. I’ve developed an immunity to sunlight. I don’t like it, but I can go out in it.”

“Three hun-” Her brain stuttered to a halt. “Are you actually a pirate?”

Killian chuckled. “I have been called such, yes. I prefer ‘dashing rapscallion.’”

“You would,” she scoffed. 

“There’s that spirit,” he said approvingly. “It’s a lot to take in, I know.”

She tried to back away, forgetting in her panic that the cage was behind her.

“I’ve been here over a month, and you haven’t had any mysterious deaths or illnesses related to blood loss, aye?”

There hadn’t been, actually. The town had been as calm as it always was after the tourist season ended. That didn’t mean Killian didn’t do his hunting elsewhere, but she hadn’t heard anything from the nearest towns, either.

“So…you’ve been living in town as a bat and a human for a month, and no one even noticed?”

“The werewolf knows, but she and I reached an understanding.”

“The…the werewolf…” Emma repeated faintly.

“The lovely Miss Lucas,” Killian said. “She figured out what I was fairly quickly, but we came to an agreement.”

“Ruby…is a werewolf…”

“Aye. She’ll probably be furious that I told you, but she will vouch for me. She knows our laws, and how strictly we enforce them.”

This was all too much. Emma had snapped. She blurted out the next thing that came to mind. “Shouldn’t you be a <i>vampire bat</i>?”

Killian looked pained. “I don’t have the most fearsome bat form, I admit.” And then his expression became lascivious. “But I’m certainly one of the biggest.”

Of course you are, Emma thought. 

Emma’s hands were still shaking. She clenched her fists, hoping to hide the trembling.

He noticed, however, and his face softened.

“I mean you no harm, Swan,” Killian said softly. “I rarely need to partake in human blood, and then only with willing donors. This town is safe from me.” His gaze went to Walsh’s corpse. “His master, however, seems to have no such qualms. It appears we were right about his intentions.”

“Is…is that why you’re here?” Emma asked. 

“To find his master, yes,” Killian said. “We suspected that a powerful old vampire was no longer keeping to our laws, and I was dispatched to track them. So I’m afraid you’re stuck with me for some time. Though I suppose you’ll want me to find other accommodations,” he added regretfully. “Pity; you have some lovely fruit.” 

Emma assumed that was supposed to be an entendre, but when she looked at his expression, she realized that, no, he actually meant fruit. What kind of vampire fed on fruit? “You can stay for now, until you find something better,” Emma offered. “Although, you will have to put up with the Bat Education Program,” she finished apologetically. “Mary Margaret wants to make you the star. But somehow, I don’t think you mind being the center of attention.”

Killian grimaced. “I’ll tolerate it. But only if the children wash their hands,” he growled

“She’s calling you the ‘am-bat-sador,’” Emma warned.

”Bloody hell,” Killian groaned. “But it will help me guard the children. They’re preferred victims of rogue vampires,” he concluded grimly.

A shiver went down her spine, and this time it wasn’t because of his accent.

Something evil was coming to Storybrooke.

~fin~

[mie779]

Finding Caldera ch10

Oh dear it's been far too long since my last update... but real life got in the way of things. But rest assured the last chapters will come in the next few weeks.... hope you still enjoy this, we're moving towards the end now.

Read it here: FF.NET and AO3

[beckettj]

Heads Up, Seven Up

Post the last seven sentences you wrote, then tag some folks. Thanks for the tag @kmomof4!

My main focus has now landed on my @cssns fic - A Hell of a Ride - and it turns out the only addition I made to the doc whilst falling asleep at my laptop last night is seven sentences so this has worked out perfectly;

Ever tried to get the attention of someone who can’t hear you? Flicked the lights on and off, thrown something at them, interferred with their music or show? It’s only natural, to want to be heard.

Yet when a ghost does it, we call it spooky, eerie, haunting.

Ultimately, a ghost is no different from you or I, they want to be heard, only they’re anchored to a world beyond our perception, their own story oftentimes cut short too soon, left unfinished, begging to be told.

Perhaps its time we start listening.

Welcome to An Untold Story.

Tagging: @laianely @jrob64 @myfearless-love @grimmswan @veryverynotgoodwrites @mie779