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arisu-artnfics · 5 years ago

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The rainbow after the rain

Summary: With everything going on in her life, ´The rainbow after the rain’, seems very fitting to describe Chloe´s situation. Beta by: @someone-but-still-noone.

Also on: DA/FF/AO3/FB Original published date: February 14, 2020. Working with: @eastwesthomeisbest as part of the @thedeckerstarnetwork ValenTeam Celebration. Our prompts were sunset/sunrise and Lux/Lucifer’s home, hope you like it :D :D

Spanish version of this story.

Edits done by @eastwesthomeisbest. Post here with permission. (https://eastwesthomeisbest.tumblr.com/post/190811503559/the-rainbow-after-the-rain - February 14, 2020).

It was two weeks since Lucifer returned from hell. Two weeks since he appeared on that beach again after closing the gates. Since he managed to get a taxi back to Lux, to the penthouse to be exact. Since he found his furniture covered in white sheets - even though the last time he was there, the place was a disaster - like so long ago. Since he took a shower, had a drink and drove to the detective’s home wondering all the 'what ifs'. Since the detective lunged herself into his arms unbelieving of who she was seeing on her doorstep. Since Maze and Trixie saw the whole scene. Since the little human joined her mum in the tight hug, while the demon stayed back and observed happily with a grin. Since Chloe actually thanked him for being back, just in time.

When Lucifer returned, he wasn’t sure what he was going to find. He didn’t have a working phone anymore, or car, or his so precious flask with any drink on it. He was glad that he was wearing clothes at least, although those weren’t the best, and he hated it. He wasn’t actually glad of anything except of being back. He decided to take a taxi, tell the driver via deal that he is paying after they arrive to Lux. He did as promised and fulfilled the deal as soon as he got a chance of opening his vault in his penthouse. When Lucifer arrived at the detective's, very nervous and completely unsure of himself - for the first time in his long life - he decided to knock on the door.

Chloe was about to leave again to go to the precinct, and she hated it. She hated the fact that this case was consuming her, that her demon friend was right, and she probably needed to hand it over to someone else. Mazikeen had even suggested that she should be the one tracking down these 'ready for torture' humans, as she had described them. She wanted to start punishing them for their crimes while they were still alive, even though she knew that her style of punishment wasn't allowed here on earth. These criminals could be added to the worst section down -that special place deep deep down in hell, where even Lucifer would've agreed to have them there. That’s what was happening when someone knocked on the door.

When Chloe opened the door, she couldn’t believe her eyes. For just a moment she felt like she was dreaming again, as she was just talking with a demon about him. After what felt like an eternity - at least for Chloe - she, seemingly without any control, lunged herself into his arms and hugged him like there was no tomorrow. It only took a couple of seconds for the little - or not that little anymore - human known as Beatrice to also join her mother and one of her favourite people on the plane, the devil, Lucifer Morningstar, in their hug.

It took a bit longer for Chloe and Lucifer to finally let go of one another and for Trixie to say ‘Good night, thank you for coming’; and for Maze to say ‘just go, they are expecting you, right?’ to have the devil listening to the detective explaining what was definitely the worst case so far that she had been given. After Chloe told him all the details of the case, Lucifer drove her back to the precinct. He said something along the lines of ‘the demons down there are going to have so much fun with these ones’ while flashing his red eyes. Red eyes that Chloe noticed, but that didn’t bother her.

They worked the case together of course. When they arrived at the precinct, Lucifer found it odd that it was very busy. It was pretty late already, which is why Maze offered to look after the little urchin of the detective. But then Lucifer considered the case that was just explained to him by Chloe, and he could see how and why everyone was still working. Dan and Ella were kind of happy to have him back, even though they were confused and a bit (or a lot, depending on who you were asking) mad as to why and when he disappeared. Now, with him being back so suddenly, it felt for them as if he had been brought back by a miracle yet again. Lucifer said that it wasn’t, at least not one that he knew of. He wasn’t sure if it was his father's doing in one way or another, although he doubted it.

Chloe explained again that the evidences they collected so far weren't much. The criminals -definitely more than one- were killing in the most gruesome way possible while leaving almost no clue. The only clue that they have seemed to gather so far was that, the obviously dead bodies, or what was left of them, were burned after being murdered. The places where the crimes happened were so clean on terms of clues or evidence that one could almost believe there wasn’t any crime committed.

It was a case that was starting to last very long. Lucifer was back from torturing dead souls, but he didn’t mind at all finding these ones, maybe finding out what they desire even more in the world and well, giving them what they deserve. The next two weeks were very intense. Those weeks went from having to keep looking at the massacres, because they couldn't be called a simple murder case anymore, to solving other cases. Other cases that may have been relevant, but not that much for anyone of the team. Mazikeen tried to help as much as possible, but sadly she wasn’t allowed to or allowed herself, as she should've been focusing on others cases, as the detective was also supposed to. The FBI was supposed to be the only ones working on that case.

It was impossible for Chloe Decker to just let it go, though, and Lucifer Morningstar knew that too well. That’s why they still continued working on it, keeping a secret copy of the case file. Every time they could spare a minute, rather than enjoying themselves, they kept working on it. It was most certain that Chloe and Lucifer wouldn’t rest until those criminals died. They weren't supposed to die, but then they put the detective's life in danger, meaning a certain devil just had to show them what they would get for making such a foolish mistake. The scared-to-death criminals shot Lucifer, which forced the detective to make a lethal decision: she shot back without any regards. The criminals got hit pretty badly and died in the end. Nobody messed with the devil and his detective.

Now, after all the tension was gone and the worst criminals that the detective Chloe Decker had ever encountered in her life have died and were therefore out of her life, she was feeling better. As the refrain says ‘the rainbow after the rain, joy will reveal itself after sorrow’ and that’s what Chloe was feeling. Even Lucifer approved of this forthcoming and couldn't complain about it.

Although everything had not been easy, Lucifer was back on the earthly plane of existence. Chloe was happier than ever, even though she got almost no sleep because of that terrible case. Only after Lucifer came back, was it possible for Chloe to sleep again as much and as long as she should. No more nightmares for the detective on all the what ifs concerning those criminals, especially if they included her daughter, herself or both. Trixie was doing well in school, had accepted the truth about Lucifer and, of course, her best friend Maze. Lucifer learned about that just as he arrived back on the earthly plane and was asked by her if he was going to stay now or if he has to go back to hell. Lucifer surprised everyone by saying that all is sorted out so he is staying on earth.

Linda and Amenadiel were also very happy that he was back, they were very glad to hear that Lucifer was finally getting the happiness he deserved. They heard the news by Maze. Maze found Eve again, and Eve also found her place on earth, feeling complete in her own words; that gave the demon so much hope, that she never thought was possible. A lot had happened since Lucifer said ‘Goodbye’ that night, but now he couldn’t be happier. He was officially dating Chloe. Something that, years ago, he wasn’t sure of even being reality or even a possibility. He knew that Chloe was his miracle, but that wasn't the only thing that she was. She was indeed very special, but she was his and more and that’s what really matters.

Now, with all the misery being lifted from solving that terrible and horrible case, ending with the criminals getting killed themselves. The detective and the devil were back at the penthouse, drinks in hands, happy to just be there and enjoy each others company. Her angel was sitting with her in one of his very comfy chairs outside on the balcony. They had a free day, after all it was the weekend; Dan had Trixie for the time being. Lucifer Morningstar and Chloe Decker had spend most of the day together, well, actually, all of it. They finally had that date - a very special one - that Lucifer (of course) had planned. He didn’t went with dinner and opera, he knew this time, that’s not something that Chloe would want to do, maybe another day, another time, but not now.

They had a special dinner cooked by him. They danced to 90’s jam music that Lucifer played on his grand speakers, and they even played their little perfect song together on the piano. Thinking about it, their joined day actually started very early in the morning when Lucifer went to pick the detective up and helped her cooked an omelet for breakfast. Then they went to the beach, and just walked there along the shore. The coastline was indeed beautiful, especially while driving in Lucifer’s car with the perfect view. After some time of walking, Chloe was the one to invite her angel to swim for a while, just something simple. He agreed with gusto, since he was prepared for it, which surprised Chloe greatly. They laughed while having fun on the beach, something that was very much appreciated by the both of them.

Later on, they were back in his penthouse, which was no surprise, because Lucifer was in need of a change of clothes, of course. Chloe laughed and rolled her eyes at his incredible but unique behavior, which made her love him even more, if that was even possible. Chloe was prepared as well, she wanted to go and relax at the beach and considered the possibility of maybe going for a swim, so she brought extra clothes with her. In the penthouse they took turns showering, cleaning themselves up. Afterwards they relaxed with the piano and then danced to the music. Finally after eating dinner -that Lucifer cooked happily- they went to the balcony with drinks in their hands, which, obviously, Lucifer finished first but refilled it. It was getting late, they were getting tired, but the sunset was too beautiful to pass up. They did as any other couple would do, and sit together, cuddle, and admire the sun as it went down. Even though they were not like others, because they were none other than the devil and his precious miracle, or the detective and her angel.

The End :D :D

#Lucifer #thedeckerstarnetwork #ValenTeam Celebration #eastwesthomeisbest #eastwesthomeisbest's edits #Lucifer TV #Lucifer on Netflix #Lucifer Morningstar #Chloe #Chloe Decker #DeckerStar #My Fic #Mi Fic #Arisu #Arisu-ArtnFics #Post season 4 #DeckerStar Valentin

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courtorderedcake · 5 years ago

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Roses : A CS retelling of ‘Tam Lin’

Hi, everyone! Thanks to @kmomof4 and the extremely talented @eastwesthomeisbest for their patience on this. As usual, thanks to @ultraluckycatnd who I would be lost without, the woman is a monster editing machine, and super beta. I live for my updates from her. Without further ado, here is my laaaaaaaaaaaate contribution to @cssns. You get TWO chapters for the price of one! WHOA!

Read on Ao3 right here, darlings! Chapter 1/4 Chapter 2/4

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If there was one trope in fairytales that Emma hated, it was the lonely orphan who found parents and lived happily ever after in a beautiful castle. Her first problem with it was that while she hadn’t met any royalty, she doubted that most of them lost track of their children that often. Or, if they were separated, that a prince or princess would be placed in a crowded Boston orphanage. Her second problem was that there were only so many countries in the world, and even less with a missing monarch. Even diplomats and billionaires were few and far between in that category.

So, on a rainy April afternoon when she returned to her apartment, she did not expect to see a fresh faced courier waiting for her. Although she wasn’t old by any means at 28, the boy looked about 12 with his baby face as he asked her to sign for the letter. She gave a scribble, handed him a wadded bunch of bills from her bag, and stumbled inside to peel off her rain slicker. Throwing aside the envelope of what was probably more of her husband's accounts that she was now responsible for, Emma opted for a nap before work instead. It was until she landed a successful skip that night that she felt ready to tackle another batch of what remained from Neal's legacy.

Kicking off her heels, which were most likely ruined from the rain, she collapsed on her couch. With a wiggle, the skin tight red number was off and she basked in the freedom of being nude as she searched her floor for a clean t-shirt and a pair of lounge pants. Looking at the letter, she picked it up and placed it between her teeth, paused to put her hair in what she hoped would resemble a ponytail, and pulled to rip it open. Letting the envelope fall to the floor, she grabbed her thick rimmed glasses to read the small script.

Her roommate, Mary Margaret, came out of her room. “Emma? It’s 4 am, did you just get back?”

“Mmmmyar.” Emma replied, scanning the text. Her late husband's family crest and name, long discarded after his death, was printed on top of the document. She shuddered at the golden medallions adorning a darkened shield, and the scaled, lizard like, dragon that curling around it.

“Well… OK, but do you want some coffee? David's here and we're getting up early to -”

“Holy. Fucking. Grilled cheese and onion rings.” Emma breathed heavily, staring wide eyed in shock at the papers in front of her.

“What are you swearing on such sacred foods for?” Mary Margaret quirked an eyebrow in amused concern.

“I've just inherited an estate valued at £800,000.” Emma flicked her eyes up, mouth a thin line. “Neal's family's fortune, home and grounds apparently. Things I never even knew about.”

“Well.” Mary Margaret sipped her coffee, looking completely nonplussed even if Emma knew on the insides she was bursting - it was how she had earned her nickname Snow Queen after all. “That would do it.”

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The estate reading took place in Ireland through a crackling speaker box, Emma's eyes racing around the office the entire time. It was stunning, as were what seemed like all the buildings during her trip to gain the deed to her home. This office in particular was what Emma imagined when reading Peter Pan; a gentleman's study and den, complete with whiskey decanter and cigar box to her left as if she had gone back in time. The tall shelves were lined in books with gold leaf letters and rich leather bindings, the panels of dark wood mixed with verdant jade paint and damask almost making up for the unsettling stuffed deer heads.

Cringing, Emma turned back to the box. The voice on the other line was thickly accented with a rolling brogue which Graham assured her in his own was common, and had obviously been in a bad mood long enough for it to be a defining quality.

“Ye don't be wanting Carterhaugh, lass. T’place is cursed, hallow in the way tat echoes, not t’way of blessings.”

Her lawyer smirked, teeth white and extremely straight. Emma had liked Graham Grimm since she had met him, and this was insight into his character. Taste in wall decorations aside, he respected her agency enough to not let this man continue to try to stop the change in ownership. In her experience, lawyers were far too careless and rude. This man was funny, even when she teased him about his name and he had sighed, an eye roll so loud she could hear it through their original phone call.

(Yes, my name is Graham Grimm. Yes, they do sound alike. No, I am not involved with fairytales, unless you consider me a fairy Godmother of estate and divorce settlements. No, I am usually very happy. No, I cannot change into a black shaggy dog, can you please just tell me what the approximate appraisal value is?)

“My client will determine its worth.” His tone was calm and well practiced, even through his own clear lilt, but Emma could hear the edge there just under the surface. He had the heart of a forest hunter; not a threat until prey was too well ensnared in a carefully laid trap. This man on the phone, a Mr. Seáìnns’, had been fighting tooth and nail to keep her from her inheritance, throwing obstacle after obstacle in her way for months now.

At first it was as simple as he refused to understand that Emma wanted to know the family that had abandoned her husband, wanted to feel the last connections she had with him or any family she could, but it quickly devolved into more. Emma was subject to constant harassment by calls and letters, envelopes filled with shredded paper or scribbled notes she could not read, all from this crazy older man in the village that Carterhaugh laid in. This didn't do much more than annoy her, as well as the post office, customs, and the garbage disposal crew. It escalated to him crossing a line when he tried to prove she was not the proper heir, insinuating Neal was a bastard, and further when he tried to declare the estate a historical landmark.

Emma hadn't even seen the damn mansion or castle or whatever an estate was considered. It seemed to vary between every property she had compared what little information she had, the repeated ridiculous notion of having her own ballroom driving her and David giddy with excitement. Mary Margaret rolled her eyes, but David pulling her away to dance made a smile crack across her face. They'd discovered over beers that a ballroom didn't make a home a palace, a question neither David, her, or Mary Margaret had ever thought they'd be asking.

The sound of sputtering rage brought her back to the present.

“You bloody ridiculous ‘n hateful creatures! I know what you are doing, what you're playing at. You can try to find me, but I know your games, and I know this woman is either demon or worse! She'd kill ye before even looking, smile on ‘er face. Calling her client… Yer client doesn't know her ken folk have cursed me, an m’wife, and took -” The line crackled, an electronic whining mixed with metallic pops. A dial tone replaced the man's voice and Graham’s smile faded.

“Well. It seems like your new residence has eccentric neighbors, doesn't it?” Graham laughed, and Emma felt his hand slip into her own. She flinched, pulling away from him and he gave her a sad smile. “Sorry, I -”

“It's alright. I… I'm just not looking for anyone.” Rubbing her palms together to do something with her hands, she pushed away the feeling of wrong that came over her at someone's touch. “I don't think I'll be ready for some time.”

Graham nodded, gathering papers together from his desk. He waited a few long, drawn out, silent minutes before asking, “How long has it been since Mr. Gold's -”

Emma's tone was short, frustration defined in every syllable. “It could have happened yesterday, but it was 2 years ago. We got married fast, it was a blur. It's a difficult topic for me.”

“I'm so sorry I -”

“Can we please see the estate?” Pinching her brow as a migraine set in, Emma heard Graham clear his throat and stand.

“Absolutely. It's a few hours from here, if you'd like to get lunch and car pool -”

“I'll take my car. Lead the way.”

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Driving through the small town of Carterhold, Emma could see why locals may be wary of change. The town was a sleepy and picturesque village, stone homes with thatched or moss covered rooftops that stood sparsely around a small town center. From there, through the foggy clouds that swirled through a dense forest, trees climbed up the slope of a massive hill, emerald fingers that reached for the plains leading up to Carterhaugh’s imposing presence, and its perch on the cliffs over the sea. The wind shifted, and it was gone, swallowed again by mist, but Graham was already making the slow ascent up a winding road.

Emma heard a thud, jerking the steering wheel as someone barreled into her bug, broad shoulders and crazed eyes under matted hair barely visible through her wet windows.

“What the -”

The words had barely left her mouth when an unmistakable voice was yelling at her, rambling incoherently as he pounded on her door.

“Ye kinnit go to Carterhaugh! Ye kinnit have it ye bloody witch or fairy demoness! ‘Tis on Hallowed and protected ground, guarded, an ye haven't a clue what I will do to protect it from you, ye - ” The face of Mr. Seáìnns was lit by lightning, eyes blazing bright blue, thunder from his fists against the passenger door and the sky. Emma felt panic in her chest, heavy and leaden.

Slamming her foot on the accelerator, Emma let the bug lurch into its unused highest speeds as she flew up the road to Carterhaugh.

The driveway was curved elegantly behind an imposing metal and stone gate, mossy spheres capping the tall towering structure. The manor itself, even in its disuse, was stunning. A fountain stood before large wooden doors, framed by windows that traveled in neat rows up walls choked in ivy. Two wings on either side curved off from there, both facing the sea and woods, a domed roof on one side for a solarium, another for a ballroom. It was both imposing and impossibly inviting, a mystery that was decayed beyond unraveling.

And it was hers.

Graham helped her inside, the lights crackling in refusal to turn on in the storm as they stood in the atrium, dripping on the stone parquet.

“It's fine, I have a lighter,” Emma shrugged, pulling it out of her jacket pocket. “I always carry one. As a kid I was afraid of being alone in the dark. I somehow always seemed to end up there, either hiding or being forced somewhere, so it helped to make my own magic light to fight away shadows. Probably silly…”

“Not silly at all. It's a common fear based on instinct. Predators lurk in the dark, so your brain says that light is safe,” Graham said simply. “Smart to have it on you to start a fire too, or warm up in the wilderness.”

Emma's lips tightened as he continued on about the practicality of the lighter. She turned, expecting him to get the hint, but he followed her while continuing on about the merits of different wood to burn or oils to keep to sustain a good burn. Emma found herself wishing for a nice birch branch just to whack him with. As her annoyance peaked, the lights flickered on.

“Well. No candles I guess, but let's get you a fire started in the hearth, and then I'll be on my way.” Graham paused, and looked down, shuffling his shiny leather shoes. “Unless… I can stay if you like, until you get used to the place or have someone to stay with you, you know, because it's a big older house and -”

“I think I'll manage.” The words crept out more icily than she wanted, but he nodded with a sheepish wave of his hand.

“That's fine. Just call if you do find you need something. I'll get someone out here, and then be out myself in an hour or so. I don't want to see you get swallowed up by a house this big.” He smiled and Emma returned it genuinely, touched by his offer. If she didn't know how men dangled kindness in the face of women like her to get something in return, she would have taken him seriously. But Neal… Neal had ruined her.

The fire in the hearth was easy enough to start, even without special wood. Taking off her boots and coat, she gazed into the flame and planned out her course of action. Her sparse belongings were in the bug, and furniture would be delivered as soon as she took stock of what remained and measured for new pieces. Sighing and rubbing her temples, Emma rolled out her sleeping bag. She was asleep as soon as her eyes closed.

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In the morning, light flitting through the windows and the chill of the fire's death woke her up far earlier than her usual time. Wandering out to the bug, she dragged her luggage inside, pulling on extra socks and layering her sweaters. The effect was comical, but warm. Her stomach growled, but the kitchen was a quick - and musty - find. Sticking to pop tarts instead of whatever the swamp like gloop in the sink was, Emma set to work making a written game plan.

Calling contractors would wait until reasonable hours, but she mapped out who she would need while taking stock of furniture, books, tapestries, busts, and paintings. To her surprise, much of the home was in decent condition, and she easily found a bedroom suite that overlooked the sea cliffs from a secure balcony, a fireplace with stone carved boats in its inlay, an almost modern bathroom, and to her absolute delight, had a storybook fairytale four poster bed. The linens were almost new, the pillows fluffy , and it smelled of sea salt, leather, spice, and rum. If she didn't know how alone she was, the room would seem almost home to someone.

As normal waking hours approached, Emma went outside to survey the gardens and landscape. Most of the plants were dead around the house itself, but the gardens and connected solarium were wild and overrun with blooms. Down the hill, wildflowers in rainbow spectrum danced in the wind, their colors like an eruption of the Crayola crayons Emma had to share in school.

Something moved out of the corner of her eye, and a dark shape made its way around to the front of the manor. Emma grabbed a rusted shovel from a garden bed, and crept towards where the intruder had gone. She found the man looking curiously at her bug. He was tall, dark hair blowing in the wind, scratching his neck in confusion. In his hand was a hook.

“Don't touch my car and I won't have to hurt you, buddy!” Emma yelled, wielding the shovel in her hands like a baseball bat. The man turned, surprised.

Blue. The first thing that Emma noticed was how blue his eyes were; how clear and beautiful the blue she saw in those eyes reflected the color of the sky above. The eyes that currently were gazing at her in confusion.

“Who are you?” he asked, raising his hands above his shoulders, as if she were police. In his left hand was not a hook, but a three pronged garden trowel. Some impression she made, thinking about urban legends this late in life.

“Better question, Alex Trebek, is who the hell are you?” Emma snarled.

“I’m the, er, gardener, madam.” He waved the garden trowel in the direction of a nearby wheelbarrow. There was something off in the way he spoke, the accent strange to her. “Killian. Killian Jones.”

“Gardener?” Emma would had refused staff had she known they existed, and had made sure that she was for the most part alone. He shouldn't be here, especially not with her. Anger boiled over to cover her fear. “You’ve done a great job of things.” Gesturing at the dead plant life around the dilapidated manor, she watched his eyes narrow. “You’re truly magic with landscaping.” This comment brought a dark smile to his face that left her feeling like he was in on the punch line of a joke she hadn’t heard.

“Well, if you’d contact the ruddy owner and let him know to add to the budget for gardening...” The English accent was evident in his voice now, the clear definition between Irish and it what had been off to her ears as she watched his cheeks reddening. Emma gave him a wolfish grin.

“I think that can be arranged.” She gave him a curt nod, before pointing to herself, which he appraised with lips curled back. “Emma Swan. Official new ‘ruddy owner’ of Carterhaugh.”

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The Gold family estate had beautiful gardens. At one time they even had cultivated a rare buttercup and rose hybrid, so they had been very particular on who tended their gardens. A quick call to Graham that took several minutes of cell phone aligning to make confirmed that Killian Jones actually was listed on a small ledger, his family name written on yellowing paper, noted as “horticultural help”.

“I don't know how I missed this, it's like it just appeared here Miss Swan,” Graham had groaned, yawning into his end of the line. Static cracked through her cell phone speakers as fog rolled over the driveway. “But yes, he is explicitly listed as coming with the property.”

“Great. And you're sure I can't fire him without penalty?”

“No, I'm sorry. This is written in a ridiculously old way, as if they're counting him as property. He can resign, but even then -” There were several moments of garbled reply that was incomprehensible. Emma huffed, kicking rocks and pacing until she caught a better signal, and Graham's voice snapped back on the line. “-Look into it more as I do some digging. You're out of luck. Do you want me to come stay? I'm happy to while you wait for another friend -”

“No, no, it’s fine. He’s not creepy, he just seems…” Chewing her lip thoughtfully, she struggled for words. “He seems, lonely. Just sort of desperate and excited for company, which I thought I could avoid by being out here. I just wanted to be alone, or at the very least I guess with someone I didn't worry about… Well. I just don't do yokels or men, and he seems a pinch of both.”

Dead air hung on the other line, followed by a faint, eerie whispering.

“Graham?”

The sound of a low laugh, as quiet as blown leaves over cold pavement sounded over the line, and Emma dropped her phone with a start.

“Are you alright?” came the sudden voice from behind her, and she whirled on her heel.

"I'd be fine if you made noise when you walked, buddy, and if I could get some damn reception out here." Emma huffed, and the grounds keeper seemed to decide against saying anything, quickly snapping his mouth shut. "Do you know a better place to get service?"

In the fog and chill breeze of the gravel drive, Emma suddenly felt a deep sense of foreboding and unease. The shadow of Carterhaugh loomed, as if reaching for her, Killian already swallowed by the scrawled shape in the morning sun. He seemed uneasy as well, even unnerved. Emma watched as his jaw muscles worked as if he quite literally chewed on her words before speaking.

"I could set up a tea service, if you'd like, but I'm afraid you'll find neither a service or reception out here. Nothing but chill." He made a gesture for her to follow him, which she did with a wry smile. He thought he had a sense of humor. Wonderful.

As he prepared tea from a silver set in one of the many kitchen cabinets, they made attempts at conversation. Killian was also a caretaker for the property, and he asked her how she came about ownership as they sat at the large oak dining table together. The furniture was remarkably well preserved in the majority of the main rooms, much to her delight.

The sunshine through moth eaten curtains had dust motes swirling in the air as her face fell, and she swallowed the bile that rose before she uttered her tight words.

“My husband passed away.” Killian had winced at that.

“I'm sorry to hear that. I'm sure he was -”

“I don't… I don't discuss Neal.” She closed her eyes tightly, taking deep breaths, feeling her skin flame. Even after what felt like an eternity, Neal's shadow still darkened her day. She sipped her tea, trying to cool herself, even with the scalding liquid.

He hadn't asked any more on the subject, only asking about changes to what affected his work. Emma found it comforting; if he was to stay, at least he would leave well enough alone.

“I'd like to stay here, if you don't mind. I have a master suite facing the sea on the third level of the east wing, and I know there'll be nothing in town for rent,” he stated. Emma chewed her lip in thought, mapping out his room in relation to her own. The answer struck her, and she groaned with a scrunched face of annoyance.

“Do you get up early? Probably don't keep a fire lit?” she grumbled, and he looked at her with eyes narrowed.

“Yes, I'm up as early as possible, and I find I enjoy the chilled sea air. Why?”

“And I bet you have a dove gray comforter.” Emma sighed, head falling into her palm with a wry laugh. “Because of course, just of course -”

“I do, aye -” He blinked and his brows shot up. “Were you..? Did you sleep in my room?”

“Well, no, but I didn't know it was -”

“I mean, it's fine. I'll choose another, I guess -”

“No. No need to be ridiculous. I… You probably know where the next best preserved bed is?” she asked, and his eyes lit up.

“Well yes, but you'd be in the same wing, is that alright?”

Emma hesitated, and then nodded. “With you up so early I doubt we'd see much of each other. And I'll be busy inside as you work outside.”

He made a non-committal noise, and stood with a stretch. Emma inhaled sharply; he was well toned and very good looking, but the thought of anyone’s hands on her after Neal had…

Her stomach churned.

“Follow me, then,” he said, offering his hand. Emma could feel her lungs tightening. Her expression must have frozen on her face too, because his eyes widened and he lowered his hand. “Or we could do this later, if you -”

Emma stood, and shook her head. “Just got a bit dizzy. Lead the way.”

They made no conversation as he led her up the staircase to the third level, the other suite he mentioned on the far end of the hall whereas his was at the beginning. The large door was imposing but carved with floral inlay, the stain perfectly applied to add to its richness. Both sides were flanked by stained glass in the same twisted vine and flower designs.

“I almost chose this room. It was for the lady of this house at one time, and should serve you better than me.” Killian produced a key with the same designs swirled around the brass, unlocking it to reveal a sun warmed sitting area the color of blushing peonies. An ornate vanity sat in one corner, while a matching bureau and canopy bed sat before a balcony, from which the sea and his own room visible. Stained glass curved around the doors to what she assumed were the closet and bathroom, and more carved wood and glass made up a truly spectacular fireplace. If Killian’s room was big, this room was truly gigantic.

Emma was at a loss, the furniture was all beautifully intact except for the bed’s canopy curtains and linens. Beyond that, the fabrics and rugs showed no large evidence of wear, the patterns still bright and soft underfoot. She poked her head in the closet and found it relatively large, possibly a maid's room or changing salon at one time, then turned the handle of the bathroom while Killian watched from the entrance.

The huge claw foot soaking tub and gold veined marble under her feet could not prepare her for the large stained glass framed window that captured the sea, as if she was sailing away in the tub itself. A double sink, open shower, and large mirror completed the space in luxury. It was exquisite, and left Emma aching for a bubble bath.

“I'll move your things, if you -”

“No,” she whispered, still in awe, before clearing her throat. “No, that's alright. I'll move everything. I… I don't like people touching my things.”

“At least allow me to give you my spare set of bedding, love, and -”

“I am not your love, alright?” she snapped, and his eyes widened. She took in a steadying breath, chewing her lip to rid herself of the sourness she wanted to throw at him. He seemed mollified, scratching behind his ear.

“I'm sorry, I -”

“No. I'm sorry. It's been… I have… I don't do people very well.”

“Well, I'll get you the linens and be out of your way, then.” There was resignation in his tone, but Emma could only hug herself as she let her armor build back up around her.

“Perfect. Thank you.” Her tone was clipped, but she didn't expect the annoyed response, huffed under his breath as he pulled blankets and pillows from a hall closet.

“As you wish, Princess.”

Emma's tone was colder than ice, her words spoken in frigid staccato. “Excuse me? I must have misheard you.”

“I wasn't expecting the new owner to be all business, is what I said. These corridors are old. If you aren’t careful, these halls will try to trick you. You’ll get used to them, though.” Killian deposited the mountain of linen on her bed, and spread out the fitted sheet.

“I don't think halls,” she snatched the pillows from the bed, pulling the sheet roughly on the other side, “are capable of trickery. Only people. People are difficult, they need to be watched. You have to keep your eyes on them or they'll do who knows what.” Pulling roughly on the sheet again, she glared with narrowing eyes at Killian, his own eyes glowering under dark lashes. “Especially people who say things under their breath like a petulant, scorned, self absorbed, preening -”

“Well, I would despair if ‘People’ took their eyes off of me. Some might say this attention is in the beholder’s benefit, and I'd say so as well. I'm quite dashing, or so I've heard.” Gripping the comforter tightly, he laid it out and smoothed it down while returning her glare. “So, I suppose we are well matched, since you are an icy, insufferable, stubborn, spoiled -” Reaching for a pillow, his hand grazed her own, and Emma yelped in surprise.

Her breathing quickened as she stared at her skin, Killian’s insults and attempted arguments drowned out by an increasing electrical whine mixed with her heartbeat thumping. Stumbling away into the bathroom, she turned on the tap, desperately washing her skin where they had touched in the rust colored water, scouring the place their skin had met with her nails instead of the absent soap.

Killian’s hand found her shoulder and Emma flew at him, pushing him away as she screamed profanities. He stumbled backwards into the tub, watching in fear at her transformation, her rubbed raw hand bleeding as she renewed her focus on the new area he'd touched. Without soap it was pointless, hot water her only real advantage, pouring the scalding water onto her skin. She mumbled to herself, trying to focus against the onset panic.

Emma's thoughts were burning away elsewhere, the fires she could not escape when Neal had locked her away; smoke, embers and ash acrid in both the air and her lungs.

It took what felt like hours for her to come back to herself, her fingernails bloody and skin blistered from the heat. The gentle chime of the clock in the room indicated it had only been ten minutes to her relief. It was the worst attack she had in ages, the first time in so long she hadn't been able to control herself. The first time in so, so, long that she had fallen back into the flame of those memories, of that pain.

A soft voice whispered gently to her, taking her off guard, and she looked up to see Killian slowly extricating himself from the bathtub. He raised his hands in supplication, kneeling several feet away from her. She choked out a strangled noise and he shook his head.

“It's alright, it's OK, lo - er…” He gave a sheepish look, thinking for a moment. He smiled in a sad sort of way after a moment, before continuing, “It's alright. Just tell me how I can help. Maybe a glass of water?” Emma nodded slowly. “Alright, I'll fetch you a bottle.”

At his retreat, Emma let her herself take stock of what had happened, falling back into her times under clinical observation. Mary Margaret had been a stone faced angel, taking in her pain and working a life around it, going as far as releasing care notes when she felt Emma was ready. She had met David, Emma's adoptive brother that way, resulting in a very happy marriage.

“Patient refuses to accept human contact, even using high concentration chemical cleaning agents on skin.”

“Patient has no history of obsessive or compulsory behavior, but violence and destruction of property are noted in their state welfare file.”

“Attempts at getting patient to explain what happened on the night of the incident to victims causes patient to become increasingly distressed when her husband is mentioned. Questions regarding other victims or the causes of death are met with silence. Patient claims no memory of her actions.”

“Patient indicates possibility of further witnesses or victims at scene - hallucinations caused by trauma or psychosis?”

“Repeated attempts at questioning or explaining patient's obsessive actions or fear of touch are met with hostility, while questioning in regards to matrimonial life is indicative of abuse. Patient advocate (M. M.) recommends home based care, with patient's brother.”

“Patient continues to allow touch in sparing amounts among family, friends, and in situations where they are prepared. Therapy with preferred Doctor is continuing as part of a deferred sentence. Patient advocate (M. M.) states that large improvement has been made outside of care facilities. Recommending end of observational treatment.”

Killian placed the water next to her, as the feeling of oxygen in her lungs weighed her down.

“Thanks.” Emma croaked, voice raspy. Killian sat down in front of her, legs crossed as he watched her drink with shaking hands.

Scratching behind his ear, he looked sideways across the floor, picking at a chipped piece of tile. “It was nothing. I'm sorry that -”

“Don't be. I just have a thing about touch.” Emma stood briskly, ice back in her unsteady tone at glacial levels. “You couldn't have known, and since you are going to be scarcely around it won't be an issue, as we discussed earlier.”

Killian snorted, and stood as well, rocking on his heels. “I was going to say that I'm sorry it took so long, and I brought you some… other items.” His face changed, haughty to solemn, watching her hands tremble as she shoved them in her pockets. “You're right, we won't be seeing each other often. If you need help with something, or finding your way around the estate, leave me a note under my door. If I need garden supplies, I'll leave a note in the kitchen.”

He turned, walking towards the bedroom door. After a moment Emma followed tentatively, walking towards the door behind him in silence. She shot a glance at the bed, noticing the bandages, a tube of some ointment, a key ring, and a few pink roses. She stopped in the small salon, watching Killian open her door and give her a strained smile.

“I'm sorry for touching you, as well.” Emma made a sound of protest, ready to tell him again that he was blameless, but he persisted. “While I couldn't have known, my presence here has never been… convenient. I had hoped that had changed with the new owner. Good day, Miss Swan.”

“Wait -” He looked as surprised as she felt, the words racing past her lips, blurted at the last second. “What is your cell phone number? It'd be easier to get a hold of you that way, if I should need you. Not to say that I will…” Killian stared at her in abrupt confusion, his brows knitting.

“I don't have a phone. The manor has one, should you need to use it.” There was something off in his tone, but her own cell phone had fought every attempt at service on the property, so this shouldn't have been too much of a surprise. The manor phone, she could work with that.

“What's the number?” Emma pulled her phone from her pocket, the screen lighting up. Killian looked amazed in her peripheral, which didn't surprise her. The town was practically medieval, and this phone was the newest of its brand. Emma scarcely knew how to use it.

“You have to set it up later, if you want communication by wire. Your device there -”

“It's an Android, I let the kid at the store set it up for me. If you want me to get you one, I can the next time I go to the city. They have a walkie talkie app that I think might work with a wifi connection once I have that set up.” Killian nodded, looking at her blankly. “Have you ever had Wi-Fi in the house before?”

Killian hesitated, his jaw ticking as he bit into his lip in thought. “I wouldn't know, love. I'm afraid that we’re a bit behind the rest of the world here, I don't believe we know what year it is most of the time.”

Emma laughed lightly, and relaxed a little bit more. “Most of us are trying to forget that it's 2019, so I suppose that's fair. I just enjoy Netflix and the occasional game of Words with Friends too much to go without internet.” Killian looked down at his feet, his face unreadable for a moment, fists balled. When he looked back at her and relaxed, Emma caught a glimpse of pure sadness, a mirror of her own pain, before it was carefully pushed behind walls of his own.

Smiling softly, Killian laughed. “I have no idea what a Netflix is, but you are the Mistress of the estate. I encourage you to do as you wish. If you would like me to have a…” He hesitated again, as if searching for something. “A, er, shell phone, I will gladly oblige if you provide it and give me instruction.”

Emma snorted, and found herself genuinely laughing as Killian’s cheeks turned red. “You're actually funny. Alright. I'll try to get you a ‘shell phone’, old man.” Killian’s eyes darkened, his smile turning almost sour. “Between the two of us, we'll bring some life back into this place.”

He nodded, that same pensive look on his face, almost hidden by his smile. “Yes. Well, taming the estate is not going to be an easy task. I'll help you where I can, should you need me. Good day.” He closed the door slowly, and Emma listened as his footfalls fell away.

Climbing into her bed, the mattress surprisingly plush under her, she bandaged her hand slowly. The roses he'd laid next to the first aid were beautiful, their strong aromatic scent filling the air already. Picking up one of the roses delicately, she sniffed, the full scent absolutely breathtaking. The throbbing of her skin faded, and all at once Emma felt herself relax. She felt invigorated, but her muscles were loose, and she happily moved her things into her room, making sure to place the roses in a porcelain vase.

The rest of the day was spent taking pictures and taking full stock of every room in the large estate. It was exhausting and by the time darkness settled Emma had barely scratched the surface of the repairs needed. Neal had left a large sum of money for her, but this was a giant and expensive endeavor. Back in her room, she started a fire in the hearth and tugged on a robe over her pajamas. Opening the door to the balcony and stepping out onto the cold stone, she stared at the waves.

Never, never in her wildest dreams did she believe that this could be her life. In the moment it was overwhelming, the only silver lining in the thunder cloud that was her marriage to Neal. A true story of a love turned into something poisoned, a once healthy plant that grew into twisted vines, strangling everything in its path.

His hands tight around her neck, the air in her lungs not enough, she wasn't enough. The other women being led somewhere by the red haired woman with green nails, Ari's and Tam's bracelets heavy on her wrist even as she starts to feel herself go slack. The pressure is too much, black spots dotting the air, and somewhere close, another man hooting like some primate - Brown eyes meet hers, and for a moment he falters, fingers loosening.

Emma kicks, kicks with all her strength, and when he crashes backwards she screams, screams like her chest is ripping apart just to resonate this noise, this wail of everything he lied about. It is a trick of light, a symptom of lack of oxygen, a freak occurrence spurred by the old home and poor insulation, bad wiring and mice chewed exposed cables.

Neal looks at her and sighs as Emma can hear the red haired woman and her underling shriek.

“Thank you,” Neal whispers, reaching for her, but Emma's banshee wail is not over and her mouth is a perfect ‘O’ as the rafters shake, tears stinging her eyes. A Swan song, she thinks, the end of her sanity and her life, the feeling of this cry flowing through her like breathing with every inch of her body. Her skin burns too, but not like theirs.

He makes it to her on stumbling steps, a vision from a nightmare, her scream unending even as she stares at him in horror. His touch is like a branding iron, his embrace like raw flesh dipped in salt. Neal touches her face as he burns away, ashes to ashes, his hand becoming embers and dust. This is hell fire, and Emma can't stop her scream long enough to beg for this to end. His lips are against her ear and his last words echo as he falls away, falls to her feet, the building crumbling around them. Her scream ends when the ceiling piece hits her skull, and the world too, finally falls into blissful, silent, cool darkness.

Far off there are sirens, and she can feel the burning when her body is lifted, but for now, Emma prefers the darkness even as Neal's last words occasionally echo through the stillness.

“I'm so sorry, Ems."

Emma came back to herself soaking wet, the rain that threatened from the horizon now in full force. It pelted her, cold, salt rain, pulled from the waves and forced from the sky. She was crying, sobbing in silence, but no one is here to see the rain wash away her tears.

#Courtorderedcake #2019 #September 12th 2019 #Roses #captain swan fic #CSSNS #captain swan fanfiction #Captain Swan Au #cs ff #cs ff au #Tam lin #Fairy Tale retelling #Eastwesthomeisbest

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cssns · 2 years ago

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Time for us to introduce another talented artist. Please help us welcome @eastwesthomeisbest to CSSNS23!

What’s your Tumblr?

@eastwesthomeisbest

How long have you been in the CS/OUAT fandom?

I fell in love with OUAT from the first episode. And I joined CS fandom somewhere in the middle of the third season.

When did you start shipping Captain Swan?

Season 3 - The Neverland adventure.

What drew you to this event?

The opportunity to meet people who like what I do and create wonderful works - fics and art.

What inspired your topic?

I still don't know what my topic will be, but almost anything can inspire me, a song on the radio, a book I'm reading right now, a favorite movie ... or even just a quote.

For our artists: What kind of art do you like to do? Picsets, painting, digital, etc? Feel free to give as much info as you like.

Edits and manips - that's my thing.

What are you looking forward to most about participating in this event?

Great fics and amazing art!

I can't wait to see what @eastwesthomeisbest comes up with for @hollyethecurious's MC story dropping on July 27th, and @snowbellewells's OS dropping on August 2nd and her MC dropping on August 18th. Please drop by her page to say hi and welcome her to the event!

#GTKM #CSSNS23 #eastwesthomeisbest #gtkm interview

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gates-of-hell-fic · 5 years ago

Link

Chapters: 1/7

Fandom: Lucifer (TV)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Relationships: Mazikeen & Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV)

Characters: Mazikeen (Lucifer TV), Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV), The Lilim

Additional Tags: Developing Friendships, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Wings, Magic, Angst, Captivity, Objectification, Physical Abuse, Torture, Aftermath of Torture, Pre-Canon, Hell Trauma, Hell, Intrigue, Whump, Worldbuilding

Summary:

The Devil wasn't always the King of Hell. He was outcast and broken, a resource, a possession. Then Mazikeen claimed him, beginning a friendship and partnership that would last aeons.

@deckerstar-bigbang

#lucifer tv #lucifer netflix #mazikeen #gates of hell fic #lucifer fanfiction #lucifer fanart #deckerstarnetwork #lucifer prompts #wollfgang #angel wings #pre-canon #hell #eastwesthomeisbest #deckerstarbigbang2019 #welcome to hell #lucifer morningstar #lucifer

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cssns · 4 months ago

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Tonight @hollyethecurious is back with the second chapter of Once Upon a Grimm, with artwork by @eastwesthomeisbest !!! Enjoy everyone and be sure to give her lots of love!!!

CS AU: Once Upon A Grimm (2/?)

Summary: The world was far more complex than most people realized. Humans went about their lives, completely ignorant of the fact that there was a world of fairytales existing right alongside them. Well, not really fairytales. Not in the Disney sense, anyway. Many, like the Grimm brothers, had woven the truth into their stories, but the creatures they wrote about were even more nightmarish than their macabre and monstrous depictions. Creatures known as wesen. Supernatural, other-worldly beings who have always lived among humans and have always been hunted by those who had come to be known as Grimms. A struggle of secrecy, balance, and power among these species has existed since the beginning of time. This is a story of a man with his own struggle. The internal struggle of being a human, a wesen, and a Grimm, and the external forces that seek to eradicate one or all of his natures, especially those he tries to keep hidden. Fortunately, Killian Jones is not alone in his struggles nor his secrets. His personal savior, Emma Swan, has secrets and struggles of her own.

A/N: This fic is inspired by and will borrow from the NBC show Grimm. I confess I did not watch Grimm when it first aired, but absolutely fell in love with the show during a binge fest years later. If you have not seen the show, no worries! My beta - who has not seen the show either - assures me that it is not necessary. If you have seen the show, then I hope you’ll forgive the huge creative license I am taking with the material. This is not a strict Grimm retelling with Once characters. This is my own spin on the lore and cannon of both shows.

Sorry I am so late with this update. I underestimated how demanding real life was gonna be now that we are back in full swing with school. I'll do my best to stay on track going forward!

I cannot express how much I have enjoyed being a part of the @cssns all these years. Thank you to the mods who have kept it going year after year. We've had a terrific run! Huge shout out to @kmomof4 for always being my cheerleader and for her exceptional beta skills. A HUGE thank you and many fangirl squeals to my artist @eastwesthomeisbest for the amazing job she did on the cover art that accompanies this fic. Please go show her some love!

FYI: Because the show took cues from the Grimm brothers’ works, much of the vocabulary associated with the supernatural creatures was based on German or German coded language. For words like wesen and woge (which will be explained in the text) the w is pronounced with a v sound on the show. I’ll be using terminology from the show and more common creature names interchangeably within the fic.

Rated E (eventually) / Also available on ao3 and ff.net / buy me a coffee / add to tag list / Curious? Come Ask Me! / Prologue

Chapter One

Two and Half Years Later…

“What have we got?”

Killian approached the scene with his partner, Robin. Their mate and uniformed officer, Will, brought them up to speed, keeping his voice low as the men conversed on the walkway that led to the grand house towering before them.

“Grace Hatter. Eight years old. Never made it to school this morning,” Will informed them, reading over his notes. “Father says she left the house at a quarter to eight like usual. An hour later he got the call from the school telling him she was absent.”

“Do we know if he’s clean?” Killian asked, assessing the distraught man who was being questioned by other officers.

“No,” Will replied. “Dad’s name is Jefferson Hatter. We're looking into him.”

“Mom?”

“Deceased.”

“Okay. Thanks, mate. We’ll go have a talk with him.”

Killian and Robin continued up the walkway. When the father caught sight of them, he rushed down the front steps to meet them halfway.

“Are you the detectives?”

“Yes, sir,” Robin responded. “Detectives Locksley and Jones. Can you tell us more about your daughter? When you last her? What she was wearing?”

“Yeah, um…” The man took a moment to try and compose himself. His hand shook as he brought it up to run down his face. A shuddering breath filled his lungs and a sob caught in the back of his throat. “She uh, she left here about 7:45. She’s wearing purple leggings and an oversized, purple top that has a white rabbit on the front of it. She also had on a red hoodie and her backpack is pink and purple with her name on it.”

“Does she often walk by herself to school?”

The man, Jefferson, nodded, tears welling in his eyes. “Ever since the beginning of the school year. She wanted… She wanted to be a big girl this year.” He took out a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the freshly fallen tears drops from his face. “I was reluctant, but the school isn’t far and normally she walks with another little girl and her brother down the block.”

“But not today?” Killian inquired.

“No,” Jefferson answered. “Ava and her brother are both out sick this week. Grace walked alone yesterday, so I didn’t see an issue with her walking alone again today.” His face reddened, the tears now cascading down his cheeks as he pleaded, “Please. You have to find my little girl, please!”

“We’re going to do everything we can,” Robin promised him, digging a card from his pocket. “An officer is going to stay with you as we canvas the neighborhood, but if you think of anything else, give us a call.”

“Th-Thank you, detectives,” Jefferson said, taking the card then following one of the officers back to the house.

“So, what do you think?” Robin said under his breath as they turned back towards the street and surveyed their surroundings.

“If he’s involved then he’s an excellent actor,” Killian replied. “I think it more likely she was grabbed on her way to school. The question is… where?”

The street was lined with houses on one side, facing a wooded park area. The little girl would have made her way to the end of the block then turned to go around the woods. The school was located on the other side, about seven blocks away.

“We’ve spoken with all the neighbors who are home along the route she would have taken,” Will said, joining the detectives. “No one saw anything.”

“Maybe she didn’t take the usual route,” Killian said, jutting his chin towards the woods. “Maybe she took a shortcut.”

“Dad was very specific about the route,” Will told him. “He said Grace wasn’t allowed to cut through the woods.”

“Yeah, and we all know you did everything you were told when you were a kid,” Robin quipped, slapping Will on the back before heading towards the woods.

The three of them followed the worn path, carved out of the foliage by those who had used the woods as a shortcut over the years. Although focused on the task before him, Killian could not help but acknowledge how fortunate he was to do this job with his two best mates at his side.

It had been a series of unfortunate events that had led them here. Two and half years ago, he and Robin had been uniformed officers at different precincts and Will, after washing out of the academy years before, owned a local bar. After being attacked and having his life, once again, turned upside down, Killian had spiraled a bit. Neglectful of his duty and spending too much time at Will’s bar had made him a less than stellar candidate for detective, despite his high scores on the exam. However, everything changed once more the night Will’s bar went up in flames.

Though it had been deemed arson, they still weren’t sure how it had happened. The explosion and fire claimed the lives of more than a dozen officers and detectives from both Storybrooke and Glowerhaven. In the aftermath, personnel had been reshuffled, reassigned, and reevaluated, giving Killian a second chance at a detective slot and transferring Robin to the Storybrooke precinct. Will, determined to bring the perpetrator to justice, had reapplied to the academy and finished top of his class before being assigned to the Storybrooke PD.

Although the arson case had gone cold, Killian and Robin, with an assist from their favorite uniformed patrolman, had managed to garner the highest number of closed cases of any rookie or veteran detectives within the city or its outlying suburbs. Robin often joked that the reason the three of them were so good at this job was because in another life they would have been criminals themselves - and therefore knew how their perps thought - dubbing themselves the pirate, the bandit, and the thief.

Of course, he had no idea that Killian possessed abilities beyond those of a normal human detective which gave him an advantage. Abilities he was currently applying in the hopes of bringing this little girl home safely.

When the trail forked, the trio branched off in separate directions. Once out of sight from his mates, Killian crouched down and closed his eyes, homing in on the sounds around him as he inhaled deeply. Over the years he’d made peace with his wolf side. It wasn’t always easy to keep the wesen reined in, or explain away how he’d been able to accomplish some of the things his supernatural abilities allowed him to do, but as time went on he found ways to balance his human and wesen side.

Not able to pick up anything out of the ordinary, Killian resumed his search further up the path. A moment later, Robin’s voice called out.

“I’ve got something!”

Killian rushed towards Robin’s voice, arriving alongside an out of breath Will. Both men were too focused on the pink and purple backpack laying among the ferns to notice Killian’s lack of exertion.

“Grace Hatter.” Will read the name where it had been monogrammed in bright pink, confirming it belonged to their missing girl. “She must have been grabbed somewhere in this area.”

“Careful where you step,” Killian reminded them. “Will, call it in and inform the others that we have a crime scene in Wonderland Woods Park across from the victim’s house.”

Will stepped away to radio it in, leaving the detectives to peruse the area.

“Killian, we got boot prints here. They look fresh.”

Killian noted the direction of the prints and commented, “He took her this way.” Setting off down the path, he shouted over his shoulder, “Stay with Will until CSU arrives. I’ll see where the prints lead.”

Once out of sight, Killian crouched down again and took in a deep breath. The hairs on the back of his neck stood at attention and a primal growl rumbled in the center of his chest. He could tell the scent was wesen, although he wasn’t sure what species. There was something vaguely familiar about it, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on why.

Never before, since his transition, had he ever wished for the moon to be in its full cycle. If it were, then his sense of smell would be stronger. He’d be able to discern the little girl’s scent better, as well as her abductor’s, and he’d be able to tell which direction the two had gone once they’d reached the road on the other side of the woods.

Cursing under his breath, Killian made his way back to Robin and Will. The Crime Scene Unit had already arrived and the area was being cordoned off so they could work making casts of the boot prints. Killian eyed Grace’s backpack as it was being bagged and tagged so it could be processed for fingerprints. He wished he’d gotten a chance to scent it, but the K-9 unit was already seeing to the task.

“There isn’t much more we can do here,” Robin told him. “Will and the other officers will follow up on the neighbors they didn’t get a chance to speak with earlier. Maybe one of their security cameras will have caught them coming out of the park.”

“Aye,” Killian said with a resigned sigh.

Clapping Killian on the back, Robin suggested, “Let’s go get some lunch. By the time we’re done, more evidence will have been collected and processed, then we can focus on whatever they found.”

“I suppose I could eat,” Killian relented. Robin was right. There was nothing more they could do that the other officers didn’t already have handled. They’d need their strength and their wits about them for the long afternoon and evening ahead. “Where did you have in mind?”

“How about Aesop’s?”

Killian cocked a brow his partner’s way. “Aesop’s? A bit swanky for lunch isn’t it?”

Robin shrugged. “I hear they have a great burger menu.”

“Mhmm,” Killian hummed. Something in Robin’s demeanor had him dubious as to whether that was the real reason. “I suppose we could check it out,” he replied with a shrug of his own, followed by a wolfish grin. “So long as you’re buying.”

~/~

“So that’s the real reason you wanted to come here,” Killian ribbed in a sing-song tone. “The lovely and elusive Miss Mills.”

Robin’s cheeks flamed pink behind the bun of his burger as he took as long as he possibly could to bite off then chew a mouthful.

“You know this constitutes stalking, right? Why not just ask her out?”

Robin swallowed and chased the bite with a sip of water, once again taking his time running his napkin over his mouth before placing it back in his lap.

“You’re hopeless,” Killian exasperated, getting up from his seat. He shot a wink over his shoulder to his mortified partner as he approached the nearby table, teeming with lawyers in their power suits. “Miss Mills?” he said in a feigned tone of surprise.

“Detective Jones,” she said in a friendly yet reserved greeting. “Funny running into you here?”

“Aye,” he said. “The lunch burger menu was recommended to Robin and me, so we thought we’d give it a go.” He gestured back towards the table Robin was metaphorically trying to hide beneath. Miss Mills - Regina - gave him a wave which he awkwardly reciprocated. “I won’t keep you,” Killian continued. “I was on my way to the facilities when I spotted you and just wanted to say hello. Enjoy your lunch.”

“Thank you, detective. A pleasure seeing you,” she replied, though her attention was not set on him but rather still subtly fixated on his partner.

When Killian exited the lavatory hall on his way back to the table, he slowed his steps and his lips twitched up in a smile. Robin and Regina were standing at the table conversing as the prosecutor’s colleagues were filing past, on their way out the door. Regina slipped Robin her card, her painted lip caught between her teeth, and he accepted it with a full, bright smile. Killian chuckled to himself, eager to take the mickey out of his friend, when something in Regina’s countenance shifted.

She’d turned towards the door, prepared to follow her colleagues, when her entire body went rigid. Something rippled through her expression and Killian was taken aback by what he saw.

She woged.

Regina Mills was… a hexenbeist?

No. He had to be seeing things. She couldn’t have woged. If she had, the entire restaurant would be in an uproar, especially Robin. There’s no way anyone would have missed the gruesome sight of a hexenbeist revealing her true form. Unless…

No. That wasn’t a possibility either. The full moon wasn’t in cycle yet, so there was no way he could have witnessed a demi-woge. Could he?

Regina’s features returned to normal, but her posture was still stiff and on guard. He followed her eyes to try and determine what had prompted such a response and was stunned to see another woged hexenbeist casually standing by the hostess stand. She had flaming red hair and was dressed in a tight, green dress. When her human face presented itself once more, she wore a smug, slightly challenging smirk.

Finally collecting herself, Regina marched past the woman without a word or backward glance, but the red-haired witch watched her all the way out the door and down the block.

“Did you see that?”

Robin’s question shook Killian from his shock, but a fresh, confused panic spiked within him. “See what?”

“The text,” Robin said, lifting his phone for Killian to see. “We’ve got a body.”

“A body?” Killian parroted, attempting to get his racing heart under control while processing what his partner said.

He didn’t see it, then. Didn’t see them change. Then why did I?

“Not Grace Hatter?” Killian’s heart dropped a little as his mind finally caught up.

“No,” Robin assured him. “Not the missing girl, but the captain wants us to take point on this one, too.” He beckoned Killian to follow him through the tables towards the exit. “I’ve already settled the bill. Will’s waiting for us at the scene.”

Before heading out the door, Killian scanned the restaurant for the red-headed hexenbeist, but saw no sign of her. He tried to shake off the unnerving feeling her and Regina’s woge had elicited in him. The mystery of why he had been able to see it at all would have to wait. He had more pressing issues to concern himself with.

~/~

“Are you sure this is even a homicide?” Killian heard Will ask under his breath. “Looks more like an animal attack?”

For the second time that day, Killian’s hackles rose. The scene before him was familiar. Too familiar. He could remember, as though it were yesterday, making the same inquiry to the detectives working a similar scene. A scene that had led to Killian being attacked and transformed. A scene that had been declared an animal attack after the DNA had come back as inconclusive. A scene where no other evidence had been left behind except…

“We got a boot print!”

Killian’s entire body reacted in a ripple of goose bumps and a sharp inhale confirmed the truth as a familiar scent penetrated his sinuses.

It’s him! He’s back. The blutbad who attacked me. The blutbad who made me. He’s back and he’s killed again. He’s killed again and… HE’S TAKEN GRACE HATTER!

“Oi! Kill, er… detective. You alright?”

“You look as though you’ve seen a ghost, mate.”

Killian’s Apple apple bobbed painfully. “We need to go see the Captain. Now.”

It was a quick ride back to the precinct, though Killian’s silent stewing had probably made it feel longer to his partner. Robin knew him well enough to not pepper him with questions when he was like this, allowing him space to get his thoughts together. It didn’t mean his mate didn’t side-eye him with furtive glances the entire way back to the station, though.

“Captain Gold, do you have a minute?” Killian asked at the open doorway of their captain’s office.

“For my two best detectives? Of course,” Captain Gold said, gesturing them forward. “How’s the investigation going into the missing girl? Or is this about the body we found? A jogger who was a student at the local university?”

“Actually,” Killian hedged, still unsure how he was going to convince his captain and his partner of what he knew to be fact. “It may be about both.”

“Go on.”

Killian and Robin took a seat in front of the captain’s desk. Leaning forward, Killian began to fill them in on what he’d pieced together.

“A little over two years ago, there was a hiker who was attacked in a similar fashion to how we found the jogger today.”

“I remember,” Gold said, nodding his head. “That was ruled an animal attack, wasn’t it?”

“Aye,” Killian said. “The DNA was inconclusive, but that wasn’t the only evidence left at the scene.” Flicking his eyes towards Robin, he said, “There was a boot print. Just like the one at the scene today. And that’s not all…” Sitting back, Killian wiped his hand down his face and let go a heavy breath. “The same day the hiker was attacked and killed, a little girl went missing in Glowerhaven.” Robin’s eyes widened and Killian knew he didn’t need reminding, but the Captain still needed to know. “I know because Robin helped work that case and we were mates back then.” Setting his attention back on his captain, Killian continued. “Look. I’m not saying all these cases are connected, but we did find boot prints where we suspect Grace Hatter was abducted, and it all feels a little suspect to just be coincidence.”

Captain Gold tented his fingers in front of him, and his eyes narrowed at Killian. “I’m inclined to agree,” he said, after a few agonizing seconds. “It’s all too coincidental to not look into.” His eyes shifted to Robin. “Locksley, reach out to Glowerhaven and see if you can get a copy of the missing girls file from two years ago. Check it for any similarities to the Grace Hatter case. Jones,” he continued, focusing his attention back on Killian. “Follow-up on the boot print. See if the one from the hiker’s scene matches the jogger’s, then compare it to the ones we found at the abduction site.” With a dismissing nod, he added, “Keep me informed.”

“Yes, Captain,” the two detectives replied on their way out of Gold’s office.

“How did you put all of that together?” Robin asked. “Remembering that girl from more than two years ago who went missing the same day a hiker was mauled? I don’t think I would have put that together.”

“I don’t know,” Killian deflected. “Something about that night just… stuck with me, I guess.”

“Well, good pick up,” Robin said, clapping him on the back. “I’m gonna call GPD, then head over to collect those files. Check in later?”

“Aye,” Killian told him. “Later.”

It took Killian less time to confirm the boot prints were a match at all three scenes than it did for Robin to make it back with the files. Although it proved the crimes may be connected, the boots that matched the prints were a very common brand. It would be nearly impossible to find their suspect that way. Frustrated, Killian shot off a text to Robin and Will, letting them know he was gonna go out for some air.

There had to be a way of finding this monster.

Not that he hadn’t already tried. He’d gone back to the scene of the hiker’s mauling time and time again in search of any clues, hoping to discover the identity of the killer and the wesen who had turned him. Once the case had been cleared from homicide, investigators believing a wolf or mountain lion had caused the grizzly death, there had been little Killian could do inside the law. He’d been too preoccupied with the changes he was facing as a newly made wesen to pursue the blutbad on his own, and too worried about what his brother’s reaction might have been if he’d turned the case over to a Grimm. A Grimm who might have been able to detect such changes in his little brother.

Now, he couldn’t help but feel as though the jogger’s death and the missing girl were his fault. He should have told Liam about the rogue blutbad or gone after it himself.

He wouldn’t make the same mistake this time.

Digging his phone from his pocket, Killian dialed his brother’s number and held his breath as the call rang.

This is Liam Jones. I’m not available to take your call. Leave me a message.

“Liam. It’s Killian. Call me back. I’ve got a situation here that might require your expertise.”

Typical.

Killian’s phone vibrated in his hand. He glanced at the screen, expecting it to be Liam returning the call. Instead, the caller ID displayed Will’s name. Killian knew he’d been pouring over videos collected from neighborhood cameras, and he was eager to hear if he’d found anything that might help them locate the missing girl.

“Will? What you got?”

“Not much,” Will confessed over the phone. “I’ve checked all the cameras we collected from Tweedle Drive, the street the perp would have exited the woods from, and there’s nothing out of the ordinary.”

“Nothing?” Killian asked, defeated. “From the whole street?”

“Well, there’s a bit we don’t have footage of, but none of the videos show any car, truck, or van he may have used to move the girl. The only vehicle on the street at that time was the mail truck.”

“The mail truck?” Killian repeated, an idea coming to him. “Do me a favor. Find out who was working that route today and whether the postal service issues a certain type of boot for their employees' uniforms.”

“You think it was the postman?”

“It’s the only lead we’ve got,” he told Will. “If nothing else, the postal worker may have seen something. We should track them down as a potential witness.”

“I’ll get right on it.”

“Text me the name when you’ve got it.”

“Will do.”

A renewed rush of hope filled Killian as he made his way back to the precinct, but it was hindered by a fresh realization.

If the postal worker did turn out to be their suspect, then he wouldn’t be going up against their usual perp. He’d be going up against a wesen. A blutbad. And not just any blutbad… his sire. The one who had turned him. Would he know? Even without the full moon bringing out his wesen characteristics, would his sire be able to tell what he was?

Killian stopped short of the station door and did an about face. He needed to better prepare himself for this confrontation, and there was only one person who would be able to help him do so.

Searching his contacts as he made his way to his vehicle, he prayed this call would not go to voicemail.

His prayer was answered.

“Hello?”

“Swan. It’s me. I need your help.”

~/~

The fingers of her left hand drummed against the counter as the nails on her right were being assaulted by her teeth. Normally, Emma Swan would not allow a situation to unnerve her this way. Of course, it wasn’t the situation, not really, it was the man involved in the situation. The man who only came in once a month to pick up his wolfsbane tonic and share polite pleasantries with her or her brother, who assisted her at the shop. The man who had agreed to keep things between them strictly professional after the one time thing incident that had occurred early on in their association. The man who had kept to that promise… until now.

He wasn’t coming here for his tonic - the full moon was still over a week away. He wasn’t coming here for tea, or spices, or herbal remedies, or anything within the purview of her business. No. He was coming here because he needed help on a case. He was coming here because he had nowhere else to turn. He was coming here because he needed… her.

Although they had managed to keep one another at arm’s length these past two years, it hadn’t been that way at first. The month following his attack and introduction into the wesen world, they had texted and chatted numerous times, having built a rapport by the time of the next full moon.

A rapport that simmered with attraction and temptation.

Fortunately, they had both understood the seriousness underlying his stay with her during that first full moon. Setting aside the obvious chemistry between them, they focused instead on the alchemy of finding the right balance of wolfsbane. Everything had gone as expected… until it hadn’t.

“Emma, sweetie,” Granny said in her admonishing tone. “Are you trying to drive us both mad with your fidgeting?”

“Sorry, Granny,” Emma mumbled, removing her nail from her teeth and flattening both hands on the counter.

The elderly woman’s soft, weathered hand covered hers and she gave it a light, comforting squeeze. “What’s got you all riled up? You said he was a regular customer.” Her eyes narrowed and her head tilted to the side. “Is it because he’s a lycanthrope?” Patting Emma’s hand she assured, “I may not look it, but I can still hold my own. If he gets unruly, then--”

“No, it’s not like that,” Emma said, cutting the woman off in a rush, not wishing her to get the wrong impression. “Detective Jones is much more disciplined than lycanthropes are believed to be. He’s… he’s a good man.”

“Then why on earth are you worked up in such a state?” Granny inquired. “I can practically smell the anxiety and tension wafting off of you.”

Emma chewed her bottom lip, then silently cursed herself. Get a grip, Emma. Tossing her hair over her shoulder, she straightened her posture and schooled her features. “It’s nothing.”

Granny let out a dubious hum. “Try again,” she said. “If you want me to help a lycanthrope - and a detective to boot - that has you all tied up in knots then you’re gonna have to give me a reason.”

Emma released a heavy sigh. She knew Granny was right. The woman was going out on a limb for her, the least she could do was give her the truth.

Given that she expected the detective to arrive at any moment, Emma quickly told Granny about her and Killian’s first meeting, and the subsequent month that had followed.

“Sounds like the two of you became fast friends,” Granny remarked, though Emma thought she could detect something slightly off in the woman’s tone. “What happened?”

Glancing at the door, Emma wasn’t sure if she was irritated or relieved that he hadn’t arrived yet. She’d never told anyone what had happened.

“He came to stay with me for the full moon, as planned,” she began.

“Here?” Granny asked, knowing the proprietor lived above her shop.

“Yes,” Emma confirmed. “In my spare room. I wanted us to be close to the workshop so I could make adjustments on the fly.”

“What do you mean?”

Swallowing, Emma told Granny about the experiments they did, testing the effectiveness of the wolfsbane. “Things like, provoking his temper and trying to elicit responses that were more primal,” she hedged, with half a shrug of her shoulder, “to see how well he could keep control under such stimuli.”

“And?” Granny prompted. “How did he do?”

“He did great,” Emma said, then winced slightly as she added, “Until August showed up.”

A knowing huff left Granny. “Yeah. I’d imagine the presence of another male might have set him off a bit. Did your brother come away unscathed?”

“Barely,” Emma replied. “Killian didn’t know who August was and when he saw him hugging me he… woged.”

“As in… fully?”

“Yeah.”

“That must have been intense for all of you.”

“It was,” Emma sighed. “I had to use magic to diffuse the situation, but once cooler heads prevailed and I was able to introduce the two of them, I thought things were resolved.”

“Until?”

Emma’s mind flashed back to the morning after he’d woged and tried to attack August. The morning after the final full moon.

“So… you made it through your first full moon.”

“Aye. Thanks to you, love.”

“No need to thank me,” she told him. “I should be thanking you.”

“For?”

“For not ripping out my idiot brother’s throat,” she said in a tone mixed with amusement and annoyance. “I told him not to come here this weekend, but does he listen?”

Killian hummed, a sultry, toe-curling sound, and sauntered forward. “Perhaps gratitude is in order then?” he murmured, tapping his lips suggestively with a raised brow and challenging smirk.

“Yeah,” she said, a little breathlessly. “That’s what the thank you was for.”

Another sinful sound echoed past his lips as he pressed further into her personal space. “Is that all your brother’s life is worth to you?”

“Please,” she scoffed with an eye roll, trying, and failing, to get her heart rate under control, knowing full well he could probably hear its erratic beat. “You couldn’t handle it.”

The corner of his lips lifted in a feral and taunting manner. “Perhaps you’re the one who couldn’t handle it.”

The crack of the t against his tongue reverberated through her, and without thought she grabbed the lapels of his jacket, fusing her mouth to his. It took him the briefest of seconds to respond, inhaling deeply before thoroughly devouring her.

It was hot. It was primal. It was all-consuming.

“That was…”

It was a big fucking mistake.

“A one time thing,” she murmured, pulling back from his chasing lips. “We… we can’t do this. I… I can’t do this.”

Releasing him, she took several steps back, unable to meet his eye or look upon his confused expression.

“Swan,” he panted, both of them still working to catch their breath. “Have I… Have I done something? I know attacking your brother was bad form. Please don’t think I’m unaware of the seriousness of that--”

“No, it’s… it’s not that,” she said. “I know you didn’t really have control over--”

“Then what?” he asked. “What’s changed?”

Crossing her arms over her chest, Emma rocked back on her heels and said, “I just don’t think it’s a good idea for us to… I mean… this is all new to you and the last thing we both need is to complicate an already complex situation. I think it would be best if we… kept things professional between us.”

She braced herself for his response, expecting him to be angry. Expecting him to accuse her of leading him on, or taking advantage of him while he was vulnerable. She hadn’t expected him to run a hand through his hair while letting go a heavy sigh before agreeing with her.

“Aye,” he said, softly. “Perhaps you’re right. Perhaps now is not the best time to…” Flicking his too blue gaze up to hers, he gave her an earnest smile. “I appreciate all you’ve done for me, Swan. I think I’ll be able to manage on my own now, thanks to you.”

“You’ll still need the tonic each month,” she reminded him with a slight edge of panic in her voice. She didn’t mean for their association to end altogether. “And you can still call or text me if you have questions about--”

“Thank you,” he interjected, cutting her off before she could continue with her offer. “I’ll swing in for the tonic in a month’s time. I’ll be sure to let you know if there are any issues regarding the treatment.” Reaching up, he pawed at a patch of skin behind his ear. “I, uh… I should go. I have a shift in an hour.”

“Right,” she said, letting him pass so he could collect his things from where he’d set them by the door. “See you next month?”

“Aye, Swan,” he said over his shoulder as he exited the shop. “See you then.”

“Only… I didn’t see him then,” she told Granny. “I chickened out and left the order with August.”

“Are you telling me,” Granny chastised, “that you haven’t seen that young man since--”

“No!” Emma replied, indignantly. “Of course I’ve seen him. We just… it’s been…” Another heavy sigh expelled out of her lungs. “After our… shared moment, I did avoid him for a bit and I know he struggled to cope with his transition, which made me feel worse about how we left things, but then there was this fire at his friend’s bar, and he made detective, and I don’t know… something about him changed. Things were less weird when he came in and we managed to carve out this nice, albeit superficial, relationship and yet--”

“The feelings are still there?”

Emma laughed a rather hysterical sounding laugh. “Uh, no. No feelings. I mean, obviously I care about him, as a person, but my current demeanor has nothing to do with feelings.”

“Oh? What does it have to do with, then?”

Emma didn’t get a chance to answer the woman’s smug question. The bell over the door chimed and the two women's heads snapped in its direction. In walked Killian Jones, as handsome and alluring as ever.

“Swan,” he greeted with a reverential nod. “Thank you for seeing me.”

“Of course,” she managed to choke out, her mouth having gone dry. Clearing her throat, she gestured towards Granny and introduced, “This is, uh, Granny Lucas. She runs the new B&B and diner up the street. I thought she might be able to help. Granny, this is Detective Jones.”

“Please,” he said, taking Granny’s hand and offering it a polite shake. “Killian will do.”

“A pleasure to meet you, detective,” Granny said, obviously sizing him up. “You’re not at all what I expected.”

“Meaning?”

Her gaze still assessing him, Granny quipped, “Most lycanthropes have me wanting to rip out their throats within seconds of meeting them, but you… you’re different.”

Killian’s brows shot up and his eyes flicked to Emma even as he continued to address Granny. “It seems you have me at a disadvantage,” he said a little too calmly. “You know about me, yet I have no idea why Swan brought you in on--”

“Granny’s a blutbad,” Emma blurted out, causing his brows to raise even higher as his head snapped back to the elderly woman. “I thought, seeing as you said your case had something to do with a blutbad, and that you needed more information about them, that you’d like to have your questions answered by someone who--”

“Not just any blutbad,” he said, cutting her off in a tone laced with menace and anger. “The blutbad.”

Emma gasped. “The one who turned you?”

“Aye.” His gaze turned dark and his features hardened. “He’s back and he’s killed again. He’s even taken a little girl captive.”

“That’s terrible,” Emma said, keeping herself from reaching out to offer him a hand of comfort. “When did you--”

“Today,” he told her, catching both women up on the case of the little girl and the jogger and how he’d connected them to the cases from over two years ago.

“We found matching boot prints at the crime scenes, but I also detected his scent at each location. I knew there was something familiar about it, but didn’t put it together until I smelled it mixed with the jogger’s blood. It brought back the olfactory memory of that night,” he said, momentarily getting lost in thought until he shook his head and added, “Of course… I can’t enter that into evidence. Fortunately, we have a lead, but I am wary of confronting him without knowing more.”

“More?” Granny said, her countenance a bit stand-offish and very imposing. “Like what?”

“Like,” Killian hedged, wetting his lips and taking a moment to assess Granny as she had him. “Whether I’ll be able to know him by scent even if he isn’t woged. Typically, I can’t detect wesen by scent whilst they’re in their human form or see them demi-woge unless it's the full moon, so I can only assume he was in full woge when he abducted the girl and attacked the jogger.”

Granny remained stoic and stone-faced, still unsure whether she should trust the gemacht wesen in front of her.

“Look,” Killian said with a tone of authority Emma imagined he employed often in his line of work. “I know there’s a code among wesen. This desire to look after one's own kind. But this guy is a killer. He’s killed two people that we know of and may, even now, be holding a little girl captive, so please. Help me find him. Help me find her.”

The reminder of the little girl softened Granny’s features. “If he’s done what you say he has, then he’s putting us all at risk.” Quickly, she flicked her gaze to Emma then back to him, conceding, “You’re right. There is a code among wesen, but it only extends so far. It sounds to me like this blutbad has gone feral, and his behavior is only going to escalate the longer he’s allowed to run wild.”

“Then… you’ll help me?”

Her posture relaxed further and she stepped up to the counter, bringing her closer to both Killian and Emma. Nodding, she said, “Yes, I’ll help you.”

A relieved breath fell from Emma’s lips and she took Granny’s hand, giving it a squeeze. “Thank you, Granny.”

Granny patted her hand then straightened her shoulders, getting down to business. “Now, I’m no expert on lycanthropes, but unless he fully woges, I don’t think you’ll be able to tell whether your suspect is the blutbad you’re looking for. If he is feral, then it wouldn’t take too much to provoke a response, but you’d have to be ready. Once he woges… he’ll be out for blood.”

Emma saw a shudder pass over the detective and she wondered if he was remembering his own experience with an uncontrolled woge.

“What about the girl?” Killian asked. “What motive would he have for taking her?”

Granny pursed her lips together then hesitantly replied. “If he’s feral, and attacked someone before, then he’s likely gotten a taste for human blood.” Killian and Emma both grimaced, sickened by the notion. “I’d wager he attacked and fed on that jogger first. Probably lost control. He knows he’ll be good for another week until the urge takes hold again, but by then it’ll be the full moon and it’ll be risky for him to be out and about. He probably took the girl in preparation of making a meal of her later. Taking her now gives him time to fatten her up.”

Emma thought she might be sick, and while she could see the shared disgust in Killian’s face, she also saw rage.

Granny caught his eye and imparted, “Having her will make him even more territorial and dangerous. So you’ll need to be ready for anything.”

“Will he, uh…” Killian began, haltingly. “Will he be able to discern who I am? What I am?”

“No,” Granny said, shaking her head. “I only made that quip about lycanthropes because Emma had already told me what you are… and I wanted to see how you’d react. You ought to know by now that wesen can only sense you during the full moon.”

“Aye, but he isn’t just any wesen,” Killian countered. “He’s my maker. Are you sure that won’t have an effect?”

“I don’t see why it would.”

Killian’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, a reluctant question seemed to pause at the tip of his tongue.

“So there won’t be any… connection between us, then? No weird side effort of my turning that would make me sympathetic towards him or beholden in some way?”

Granny scoffed and cocked an amused brow at him. “Such sire bonds only exist in fiction.”

Killian’s head fell in relief and Emma could now detect how much tension he must have been carrying over that worry.

“Gemacht sometimes latch on to those who aid and guide them through their transition, and many times that is the wesen who turned them, so if you were to have bonded onto someone it would have been the person who was there for you at the beginning of and during your first change.”

Killian’s head snapped up, his eyes locking onto Emma’s. Her heart stuttered, then began pounding in her chest while her breath remained trapped in her lungs.

Granny’s gaze volleyed between the two of them, her heading tilting to one side as she quipped, “I suppose that explains the pent up tension I’ve been sensing between you two.” A warm smile lifted the corners of her mouth in response to their awkward reaction to the call out, and she assured them, “Don’t worry. The bond was temporary. I dare say enough time has passed that it would be gone altogether.” Her no nonsense demeanor returned as she focused her attention solely back on Killian and asked, “Anything else?”

Unsticking his tongue from the roof of his mouth, Killian cleared his throat and said, “Just one last thing… Do you know who this blutbad might be?”

“Afraid not,” Granny told him with obvious regret in not being able to provide him a name. “I only relocated to Storybrooke a few months ago, and I find it best to avoid my kind as much as possible.” Her eyes fell down to the counter and on a bit of a grumble she added, “Bad things happen when we get into a pack. Especially when we see red.”

Killian’s eyes went wide.

“What?” Emma asked. “What is it?”

Killian locked eyes with her once more. “The little girl. Grace. She was last seen wearing a red hoodie. And the jogger and hiker both had on red jackets when their remains were found.”

“So, red provokes him?” Emma said, shaking her head in confusion. “But you weren’t wearing red when he attacked you. You were in uniform.”

“Which,” Granny interjected, “along with your natural demeanor of dominance and authority, he would have seen as a threat.”

“Which means he’ll likely view me as a threat when I confront him.”

“Most likely,” Granny warned. She glanced at the clock on the wall, and Emma knew she needed to get going so she could get back to the diner before the evening rush. “My advice,” she said, rounding the counter on her way out. “When you do confront him, do it alone. You don’t want him to feel trapped or backed into a corner, and if things go badly…”

“Aye,” Killian agreed. “I don’t want anyone else getting hurt.”

Extending her hand, Granny offered him a sincere expression as he accepted the gesture. “Take care of yourself, Detective. I hope you can bring him to justice, but if not… bring him down any way you can.”

With that, she said a quick goodbye to Emma then exited the shop.

“Tough old bird,” Killian said in her wake, causing Emma to huff out an amused breath.

“Yeah. Granny is… something else.”

“Terrifying, I believe is the word you’re looking for,” he quipped with a light chuckle.

The two shared a laugh then stood awkwardly regarding one another for a long moment before Killian cleared his throat and said, “Um… thank you, Swan. I truly appreciate your help. I didn’t know who else to--”

“It was nothing,” Emma blurted out, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. “I mean… I was happy you called and that I could…”

Her words fell away and a wash of something akin to embarrassment or bashfulness swept over her. Her face was hot and her palms were starting to get slick.

You're being ridiculous, Emma. You’re not a silly school girl unsure of what to say to her crush. In fact… you don’t have a crush. This isn’t a crush. This is--

Killian’s phone chimed with a notification. Pulling it from his pocket, he checked the text and his grip tightened to the point that Emma feared he’d crack the screen.

“Killian? What is it?”

Slowly, Killian’s eyes lifted and met hers. The look that swirled in those blue depths made her breath hitch.

“We found him, Swan.” His voice was low, almost a growl, and it made the hair on the back of her neck stand in a way that caused her to shiver.

“Who is he?” she asked in a whisper, only vaguely aware that she was rounding the counter to move towards him.

His eyes never left hers and once she was standing before him, they flickered between her own as he answered. “His name is Quinn Adair. His address puts him outside of the city. Out in the woods.”

Emma swallowed hard as an eruption of worry filled her chest. “Are you… You’re not going to go after him now are you?”

“I have to, Swan,” he insisted. “He has Grace, remember? I have to get to her before he…”

Emma nodded, knowing that time was of the essence for that poor girl who was probably terrified out of her mind.

“Just… be careful?” she said, wetting her lips, which caused his gaze to drop down briefly. “And, um… Call me later so I know how it… so I know the girl is okay… and you.”

“Aye,” he said, pocketing his phone. “I will. I promise.”

She expected him to rush out after that, but he continued to stand there. Conflicted.

“Swan, I know this isn’t the time, but… what Granny said earlier. About us. About the bond that might have been created between us. Was that… Was that the reason you pulled away? Did you suspect?”

“Killian, I…” Emma didn’t know what to say. It would certainly be a plausible reason to give him. One that was safer than the truth.

It would be a lie, though.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said, waving off the question and sparing her from having to answer. “As Granny said, whatever was going on between us at the time, it’s likely run its course, so…”

“So?”

Stepping forward, Killian grabbed her hand and lightly held it in his. A rush of goosebumps swept up her arm when his thumb brushed over her knuckles.

“So… Maybe when this case is solved and things go back to relative normalcy, we could… try again?”

“Try again?” Emma parroted. A contradictory cocktail of hope, elation, dread, and panic collided within her as her good sense warred with her wants and desires.

“As friends, I mean,” he clarified, and in tamping down her own disappointment she missed the tone of it in his voice. “We had the start of something I was beginning to cherish and I miss…”

“Me, too,” she told him, turning her hand in his so she could give it a squeeze. Maybe it was reckless. She’d avoided close relationships all her life for a reason, and yet… “I’d love to start again. As friends.”

His smile took her breath away, but it was quickly schooled so he could focus on the dangerous task that lay before him.

“Do you want me to come with you?” she asked, filled with concern about him facing his maker alone. “I know Granny said not to make him feel trapped or backed into a corner, but I doubt he’d see me as a threat. And I doubt he’d be expecting a witch.”

His lip curled up on one side. “As much as I would love to see him go up against your magic, I won’t put you in harm's way like that.” When she opened her mouth to argue, he quickly added, “Besides. I need to try and do this by the book. I’m a cop before anything else.”

“I get that,” Emma relented, begrudgingly. “But I’m going to keep my phone close by in case you get in over your head and change your mind.”

“In over my head?” he said in feigned offense. “I’ll have you know, love,” he murmured in a low timber, edging a bit closer to her. “If there is one thing I’m good at… it’s surviving.”

“Mhmm,” Emma hummed, meeting his taunting expression of challenge with one of her own. “Well, I’m going to insist that you stop by afterward in order to prove that to me.”

He smiled down at her, another message alerting from his phone, indicating it was past time for him to go.

“As you wish.”

Chapter Two - Coming Soon!

Tagging the Curious Crew: (add to tag list)

(Please be advised that I only keep one tag list for all fic updates and new works. If at any time you wish to be removed, just shoot me an ask or a DM. No worries.)

@kmomof4 @jrob64 @zaharadessert @laianely @booksteaandtoomuchtv

@the-darkdragonfly @undercaffinatednightmare @killianxswan @mie779 @motherkatereloyshipper

@jennjenn615 @jonesfandomfanatic @anmylica @superchocovian @caught-in-the-filter

@winterbaby89 @wyntereyez @stahlop @resident-of-storybrooke @gingerchangeling

@exhaustedpirate @cocohook38 @donteattheappleshook @lfh1226-linda @teamhook

@jackieorioncat @paradiselady19 @snowbellewells @earanemith @ultraluckycatnd

@pirateherokillian @calmjoonie @unworried-corsair @tiganasummertree @captainswan-kellie

@soniccat @kday426 @djlbg @fairytalepretzkle @maggiegreenvt

@natascha-ronin @ilovemesomekillianjones @iamstartraveller776 @deckerstarblanche @shadowsaur

@qualitycoffeethings @idristardis @phoenix-untamed @bluewildcatfanatic @bananachickens

#cssns24 #once upon a grimm #words by hollye #art by eastwesthomeisbest

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thetraitorwhoyoulove · 6 years ago

Photo

Trying not to love you...

Only makes you love me more...

Happy Valentines lovely! @eastwesthomeisbest @bellarke-valentines

#bsv2019 #eastwesthomeisbest #bellarke-valentines #bellarke #bellarke edit #clarke griffin #bellamy blake #the 100 #the 100 edit #i'm still not very good at making and editing gifs #happy valentines #hope you like it #<3

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frauleinsmaria · 6 years ago

Text

The Village is a Glow (2/2)

A/N: This is the final part to my CSSS gift for @eastwesthomeisbest ! Thanks for being patient with me while I recovered from Christmas retail and tried to work out some of the kinks in the story. I hope you enjoy this as much as I’ve enjoyed getting to know you! Special thanks again to @profdanglaisstuff for beta duties and @cssecretsanta2k18 for hosting this event.

Summary: Killian Jones credits moving to the Big Apple for getting his photography career off the ground. He also has it to thank for causing his first run-in with Emma Swan, who makes him question every photo he takes afterward.

AO3

Coming to the conclusion that there was something extraordinary about Emma Swan was fairly simple. Putting his finger on just what that something was, however, was anything but.

The first time, he’d chalked it up to coincidence; a change in his camera settings, the way the light reflected off of the lens maybe. The second was enough to make him question things.

The problem was finding her. Everything he knew about Emma was limited to her name, her age, her taste in movies, and that she worked at a bookstore in the city. In a place like New York, he might as well be looking for a needle in a haystack. He’d tried looking her up on social media, feeling both a bit nosy and disappointed when he scrolled through the list of accounts of people with the same name who obviously weren’t the blonde consuming his thoughts.

Killian soon found himself just hoping that his good luck she’d referenced the day of their first meeting would work in his favor again. He’d found her unintentionally twice, and what was that they said about the third being the charm?

What would he even say to her the next time they inevitably ran into each other? Hello, Swan. Funny thing, I’ve noticed this odd golden haze over both of the pictures I took before encountering you and wondered if you would be willing to provide an explanation. Are you a witch, fairy, magician, or involved in some other kind of odd supernatural activities I’m not familiar with? Because that definitely wouldn’t cause her to question his sanity (even though he’d questioned his own every single time he looked at either of those two photos and the golden glow that permeated both.)

In the meantime, he went about his regular routine and kept himself busy with work. Ruby and Belle had been ecstatic over the photos he’d emailed them not long after the impromptu photo session in the park. Both women sent him lengthy messages thanking him and yet again offering some kind of payment for his time and the pictures. His only request was that they consider seeking him out again next time they were in the city.

(He knew it was no coincidence that the last photo with the mysterious golden glow was the picture Ruby posted on her Instagram account first and Belle made her profile image, both women tagging him and insisting all their friends consider him for sessions in the future.)

Good luck must have been on his side after all, because two weeks later, he was walking home on a Friday afternoon when he saw a familiar face framed by blonde curls standing in the front window of a store with a sign claiming itself to be Booth’s Books. He’d found it- more importantly, he’d found her. Of all the bookstores in New York, Emma Swan was working at one less than six blocks from his apartment.

Killian quickly ducked inside, the bell on the door announcing his arrival as he made a sharp left and found himself face to face with Emma.

“Oh! Killian?”

“Hello, Swan. You don’t know how glad I am to see you.”

“Do you need help finding a book?”

“Er, not exactly.” “I really hate to bother you at work, but would you have a few minutes to chat anytime soon? Or I could come back later when you’re free.”

“I’ll get a break in thirty minutes if you don’t mind waiting. There’s a coffee bar at the lounge area in the back.”

“Thank you, love. And don’t rush on account of me; I’m in no hurry.”

Killian made himself a blonde roast with cream and sat back to flip through a random magazine on a nearby table while he waited for Emma’s shift to end. True to her word, she appeared at his side half an hour later, wearing a red leather jacket over her white sweater and was pulling a gray knit beanie on her head.

“I thought maybe we could go for a walk and talk about whatever’s on your mind? The store is nice and all, but I’m sure you get why I can only stay in the place where I work for so long afterward.”

“Of course, love. I’m following you.”

She led him out of the store and into the chaos of afternoon traffic, both of them darting around other people to keep up with each other, Killian desperate not to lose her before asking the questions that had been boggling him for days now. He followed her to City Hall Park, only fitting considering their last encounter.

“I thought we may have a better chance of having a legit conversation here.”

“Aye.” The park wasn’t empty by any means, but they could speak to each other coherently without as many outside interventions.

“So, uh, why is it that you were so glad to see me? Unless you couldn’t find Granny’s on your own and needed me to give you directions to curb your grilled cheese cravings.”

“Afraid not- although that does sound quite appealing, now that you mention it.” He took a deep breath. “Swan, I’m not sure just how to approach this, but- wait.” He pulled his phone out of the back pocket of his jeans and brought up the picture of the sun he’d taken right before their first meeting. “What do you think of this?” he asked, holding it up for her to see.

“That’s really neat, especially the way the sun looks with the golden haze over the photo. Did you take it?”

“I did. I took this one as well.” He swiped through a few more photos to find the one of Ruby and Belle, showing it to her next.

“Killian, these are great pictures...but I doubt showing me your work was the real reason you wanted to talk to me.”

“It’s not so much the photography I’m concerned about. Okay, it is, but not in the way that it sounds. You see, Swan, none of my other photos look quite like these two. And these were both photos I took promptly before running into you.”

Her eyes widened. She bit her lip and glanced away from him. “So, what are you insinuating here? You think I help your ability to take good pictures?” She forced a laugh, but he could tell she was now suddenly worried.

“I honestly don’t know what to think, love. Other than this is all too concrete and specific for me to believe it was a lucky coincidence on my part.”

“Well, we have established that you tend to attract good luck.”

“I think there’s a lot more than luck behind this, love, and something tells me you’re thinking the same.”

Emma made a noise that was something between a sigh and a groan. “Would it be that hard to chalk it up to fate and that you’re a good photographer?”

Maybe this wasn’t Killian’s best idea. She evidently didn’t want to discuss whatever it was she knew about the photos. As much as he wanted answers, he didn’t want to risk making her any more uncomfortable than she already seemed to be. “I apologize, Swan. You’re not obligated to tell me anything, photos or not. I’ll let you go now, if that’s what you like. I’m sorry again if I made you uncomfortable and for taking up your time.” He turned to leave when she called out his name.

“Wait.” Was she having a change of heart? “Never in a million years would I have seen myself asking this question to a guy I’ve met all of three times, but since you seem decent and you’re so perceptive: do you believe in magic?”

“A month ago I would have said no. Now, I’m starting to feel open to anything.”

“So, I have certain...abilities,” she began. “There’s no solid explanation, but I can essentially create certain auras or illusions based on my emotions. It doesn’t happen all the time, mostly when I’m feeling pretty strongly about something. They usually look like a trick of the light or something, so most people don’t even notice something’s off unless they have tangible evidence afterward.”

“Like my photos?”

“Exactly. I’m sure it was hard for you to see past it considering it probably didn’t show up in the rest of your photos. I didn’t even know it could be captured on camera until you showed me just now.” Her eyes kept flitting from his to the ground. This wasn’t easy for her to share with him.

“That’s quite extraordinary, Swan.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “So you don’t think I’m crazy yet? Not gonna call the cops or run for your life?”

What kind of people had she had this conversation with before? “I take it people you’ve shared your abilities with in the past haven’t been very accepting.”

“That would be an understatement.” She barked out a laugh. “I’ve been called a psycho bitch by guys over this before.”

“Well, I can’t lie to you and say it’s easy to wrap my mind around all of this just yet, but I have no reason to believe you aren’t being truthful love, photos or not.”

“You really mean that?”

“Aye. Your secret is safe with me. And I can delete those two photos from my social media pages if that would make you more comfortable.”

“No, it’s okay. Two pictures aren’t enough to tip people off about anything; they probably just thought you used a different lens or filter.”

There was a moment of silence before Emma noticed the time. “I’m really sorry; I have to be back at the bookstore in ten minutes. August and Marco have been great to me so far, and I don’t wanna do anything that could change that.”

“I understand, Swan. I’ll walk back with you now if that’s alright.”

“Sure, thanks.”

They were silent on the walk back to the bookstore, Killian feeling relieved to have answers about the connection between Emma and his photos, but also unsure of where this would go next, if anywhere.

“Killian?” She asked as they walked up to the store’s entrance.

“Yes?”

“Would you, uh, be up for getting coffee again sometime? Or hot cocoa, whatever. If it’s too weird that’s fine, but, I dunno, you’re easy to talk to and I really appreciate someone who doesn’t freak out over a conversation like the one we’ve been having.”

It was the last thing he expected, but he would’ve been a fool to say no. “Of course. Nothing would make me happier.” They exchanged numbers with her promising to get in touch soon.

He received his first text from Emma not two days later. I could totally go for another grilled cheese from Granny’s if you’re free tomorrow afternoon.

With onion rings?

Fast learner. I like you.

He showed up to Granny’s the next afternoon twenty minutes early, eager to see her and learn everything about herself that she was willing to share, whether it involved her abilities or not.

Emma arrived just on time, red-faced and wearing the same jacket and beanie from a few days earlier. She dropped into the seat across from him and let out a deep breath. “Sorry, I ran from the store. I thought I was gonna be late.”

“Quite alright, Swan. I hope you don’t mind, but I went ahead a few minutes ago and ordered the same thing we had the last time. You can get something else if you wish, of course, but I’m familiar with your penchant for grilled cheese.”

“You might be my favorite person in the whole world,” she said, beaming, just as the waitress walked over with their orders.

They ate and spent the next hour or so unofficially resuming their conversation in the park. It had been anything but small talk, yet they still barely knew each other. She told him about how she became aware that there was something different about her at five years old when her foster parents were in a heated argument and a cloudy haze formed around them, evidence of Emma’s distress. But she didn’t discover more details behind this part of her until later.

“I was thirteen,” she told Killian. “I had run away from the group home and was at some supermarket trying to swipe food. Someone caught me, but Lily popped up out of nowhere and covered for me. She told me she could tell I was scared; apparently, if two people with these same kinds of abilities are close enough, you can feel the other person’s emotions instead of just seeing whatever manifests from them.”

“That’s…” he struggled for the right word to say. “Well, that’s remarkable, love. So you two were able to bond over your shared capabilities?”

“Not really.” Something told him that story didn’t have a pleasant ending. “But it gave me an idea of how to spot other people like me. I’ve found half a dozen or so since, mostly in smaller areas where it’s easier to detect. It’s a nice reminder that there are other people like me.”

“I appreciate that you were comfortable and willing to share all of this with me, even just what we discussed in the park,” he told her as they left the diner. “I hope you know that I don’t take it lightly.”

“I do know. And it may not make sense, but I trust you.”

“I’ll make sure you won’t regret it.”

“Good. Go out with me?” she asked without missing a beat.

“Come again?”

“Go out with me. Y’know, to dinner, or something. Or not,” she quickly added. “That’s fine too.”

“I would love nothing more. I only have one request, if you’re up for fulfilling it.”

“Uh, sure, I guess?”

“Would you give me the honor of taking your picture?” Killian gestured to the camera bag at its usual place on his arm. “I’ve gotten to take photos that you’ve impacted twice, but something tells me one of the marvel herself would be quite spectacular.”

“You’re such a dork,” she laughed. “But okay. What should I do?”

“Stay just as you are, love,” he said, pulling out his camera and taking a handful of images while the afternoon sun was in the perfect spot to highlight her features. He quickly brought up the last photo in his media library and couldn’t help but smile at the result: Emma, beaming, green eyes full of light, and, just as he expected, that obvious golden glow he’d become so familiar with.

Killian used to think he owed New York for getting his photography career off of the ground. Now, he knew he owed the city for introducing him to Emma Swan.

#cs ff #cssecretsanta2k18 #eastwesthomeisbest #captain swan #cs au #captain swan ff #captain swan fic #cs fic #ouat fic #mine #captain swan fanfiction

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arisu-artnfics · 5 years ago

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El arcoiris después de la lluvia

Resumen: Con todo lo que pasa en su vida, 'El arcoiris después de la lluvia', parece ser lo que mejor describe la situación de Chloe. Beta por: nadie/no beta.

También en: DA/FF/AO3/FB. Fecha original que se publicó: 14 de Febrero, 2020. Trabajando con:@eastwesthomeisbest como parte la celación de San Valentín del @thedeckerstarnetwork ‘ValenTeam’. Nuestros ‘prompts’ eran amanecer/anochecer y Lux/Casa de Lucifer, espero que les guste :D :D Versión en inglés de esta historia.

Ediciones hechas por @eastwesthomeisbest. Publicadas aquí con permiso. (https://eastwesthomeisbest.tumblr.com/post/190811503559/the-rainbow-after-the-rain - February 14, 2020).

Han sido dos semanas desde que Lucifer regreso del infierno. Dos semanas desde que apareció en esa playa otra vez después de cerrar las puertas. Desde que se las arregló para tomar un taxi de regreso a Lux, a la penthouse para ser exactos. Desde que encontró sus muebles cubiertos en sábanas blancas - aunque la última vez que estaba ahí, el lugar estaba hecho un desastre - como hace mucho tiempo. Desde que tomó una ducha, tomó un trago y manejo a la casa de la detective preguntándose todos los "que sí". Desde que la detective se lanzó hacia sus brazos sin creer a quién estaba viendo en la entrada de su casa. Desde que Maze y Trixie vieron la escena completa. Desde que la pequeña humana se unió a su mamá en el abrazo fuerte, mientras el demonio se quedó atrás y observó feliz con una sonrisa satisfecha. Desde que Chloe realmente le agradeció por haber regresado, justo a tiempo.

Cuando Lucifer regresó, no estaba seguro de lo que iba a encontrar. No tenía un celular que siga funcionando, o carro, o su ‘flask’ con bebida en ella. Estaba contento que estaba usando ropas al menos, aunque esas no eran las mejores, y lo odiaba. En realidad no estaba contento de nada excepto de estar de vuelta. Decidió tomar un taxi, decirle al chofer a través de un trato que pagaría después de llegar a Lux. Hizo como prometió y cumplió el trato tan pronto como tuvo la oportunidad de abrir su caja fuerte en la penthouse. Cuando Lucifer llegó donde la detective, muy nervioso y completamente inseguro de sí mismo - por primera vez en su larga vida - decidió tocar la puerta.

Chloe estaba por salir otra vez a la comisaría, y lo odiaba. Ella odiaba el hecho que el caso la estaba consumiendo, que su amiga demonio estaba en lo correcto, y posiblemente debería de pasarlo a alguien más. Mazikeen incluso ha sugerido de que debería ser ella rastreando estos “listos para torturar” humanos, como los ha descrito. Quería estar castigandolos por sus crímenes mientras aún estaban vivos, incluso cuando sabía que su estilo de castigo no está permitido aquí en la tierra. Estos criminales podrían ser añadidos a la peor sección abajo -ese lugar especial bien bien profundo en el infierno, donde incluso Lucifer hubiera estado de acuerdo en tenerlos allí. Eso es lo que estaba pasando cuando alguien tocó la puerta.

Cuando Chloe abrió la puerta, no podía creer en sus ojos. Por sólo un momento sintió como si estaba soñando otra vez, ya que había estado hablando con un demonio sobre él. Después de lo que se siente como una eternidad -al menos para Chloe- ella, aparentemente sin nada de control, se lanzó en sus brazos y lo abrazó como si no hubiese un mañana. Sólo tomó un par de segundos para la pequeña - o no tan pequeña - humana conocida como Beatrice para también unirse a su madre y una de sus favoritas personas en el plano de existencia, el diablo, Lucifer Morningstar, en el abrazo.

Tomó un poco más para Chloe y Lucifer para finalmente dejar ir uno del otro y para Trixie decir “Buenas noches, gracias por venir”; y por Maze para decir “sólo ve, te están esperando, ¿verdad?” para tener al diablo escuchando a la detective explicar lo que definitivamente era el peor caso hasta ahora que se le haya dado. Después que Chloe le dijo los detalles del caso, Lucifer manejó de regreso a la comisaría. Él dijo algo entre las líneas como “los demonios allá abajo van a tener mucha diversión con estos” mientras mostraba sus ojos rojos por un momento. Ojos rojos que Chloe notó, pero no le afectaba.

Ellos por supuesto trabajaron en el caso juntos. Cuando llegaron a la comisaría, Lucifer pensó que era extraño de que este bien movida. Pero luego Lucifer consideró el caso que le acaba de explicar Chloe, y puedo entender el porqué y cómo todos aún seguían trabajando. Dan y Ella estaban algo felices de tenerlo de vuelta, incluso cuando ellos estaban confundidos y un poco (o un montón, dependiendo a quien le preguntes) enojados del porqué y cuándo desapareció. Ahora, con él de vuelta tan repentinamente, se sentía para ellos como si hubiese sido traído por milagro de vuelta. Lucifer dijo que no ha sido uno, al menos no uno que él sepa. No estaba seguro si era parte de las acciones de su padre de una manera u otra, aunque lo dudaba.

Chloe explicó otra vez que las evidencias que ellos habían colectado no eran muchas. Los criminales -definitivamente más de uno- estaban matando en las más grotescas maneras posible mientras dejando casi no pista. La única pista que ellos parecían obtener hasta ahora era, los cuerpos obviamente muertos, o lo que quedaban de ellos, que estaban quemados después de matarlos. Los lugares donde los crímenes pasaban eran tan limpios en términos de pistas o evidencia que uno podría casi creer que no hubo ningún crimen realizado.

Era un caso que estaba comenzando a durar por mucho tiempo. Lucifer estaba de vuelta de torturar almas muertas, pero no le importaba encontrar a estas, quizás descubrir que es lo que desean más en este mundo y bueno, darles lo que ellos se merecen. Las siguientes dos semanas fueron bien intensas. Esas semanas fueron de tener que mirar a las masacres, porque ellos no podrían seguir llamándolo un simple caso de homicidio, a resolver otros casos. Otros casos que quizás eran relevantes, pero no tan relevantes para nadie en el equipo. Mazikeen intentó ayudar tanto como era posible, pero tristemente ella no estaba permitida o no se permitió a sí misma, ya que debería de estar enfocándose en otros casos, así como la detective se supone que debería de estar. El FBI se supone que debería de ser los únicos trabajando en ese caso.

Era imposible para Chloe Decker de tan sólo dejarlo, y Lucifer Morningstar sabía eso muy bien. Es por eso que ellos seguían trabajando en ello, manteniendo una copia secreta del archivo del caso. Cada vez que ellos tenían un minuto libre, en vez de disfrutar de sí mismos, ellos seguían trabajando en ello. Era bien certero que Chloe y Lucifer no iban a descansar hasta que esos criminales murieron. Ellos no se suponían que murieran, pero entonces pusieron la vida de la detective en peligro, significando que cierto diablo les tenga que enseñar que es lo que obtienen por hacer tal error estúpido. Los criminales espantados a muerte dispararon a Lucifer, lo que forzó a la detective de hacer la fatal decisión: les disparó de regreso sin lamentarlo. Los criminales fueron lastimados muy mal y murieron al final. Nadie se mete con el diablo y su detective.

Ahora, después que la tensión había desaparecido y los peores criminales que la detective Chloe Decker había enfrentado nunca en su vida habían muerto y por ello estaban fuera de su vida, ella se estaba sintiendo mucho mejor. Como el refran dice “El arcoiris después de la lluvia, la alegría se revelará después del dolor” y así es como Chloe se estaba sintiendo. Incluso Lucifer aprobó del resultado de ese encuentro y no podía quejarse de ello.

Aunque no todo ha sido fácil, Lucifer estaba de vuelta en el plano terrenal de existencia. Chloe estaba más feliz que nunca, incluso cuando ella casi no dormía por culpa de ese terrible caso. Sólo después que Lucifer regreso, era posible para Chloe de dormir otra vez tanto y tan largo como debería. No más pesadillas para la detective con todos los ‘que sí’ considerando esos criminales, especialmente si estos incluyen su hija, a ella misma o ambas. Trixie estaba bien en el colegio, había aceptado la verdad sobre Lucifer y, por supuesto, su mejor amiga Maze. Lucifer aprendió sobre ello tan pronto como regresó al plano terrenal y fue preguntado por ella si es que se va a quedar o si es que va a regresar al infierno. Lucifer sorprendió a todos diciendo que todo estaba arreglado y que se estaba quedando en la tierra.

Linda y Amenadiel estaban también muy felices que estaba de regreso, ellos estaban bien contentos de escuchar que Lucifer estaba finalmente obteniendo la felicidad que merecía. Ellos escucharon las noticias vía Maze. Maze había encontrado a Eva otra vez, y Eva también había encontrado su lugar en la tierra, sintiéndose completa en sus propias palabras; eso le daba al demonio mucha esperanza, que nunca pensó que era posible. Mucho ha pasado desde que Lucifer dijo “adiós” esa noche, pero ahora él no podría ser más feliz. Él estaba saliendo con Chloe oficialmente. Algo así, años atrás, no estaba seguro de que pudiese ser realidad o incluso una posibilidad. Él sabía que Chloe era su milagro, pero eso no es la única cosa que ella era. Ella es de verdad muy especial, pero ella era suya y más y eso es lo que realmente importaba.

Ahora, con toda la miseria siendo levantada tras resolver ese terrible y horrible caso, finalizando con los criminales siendo asesinados. La detective y el diablo estaban de vuelta en la penthouse, bebidas en mano, felices de tan sólo estar ahí y disfrutar de la companía de cada uno. Su ángel estaba sentado con ella en uno de sus muy comodos asientos en el balcón. Ellos tenía el día libre, después de todo era el fin de semana; Dan tenía a Trixie por el momento. Lucifer Morningstar y Chloe Decker habían pasado la mayoría del día juntos, bueno, en realidad, todo el día. Ellos finalmente habían tenido una cita - una muy especial - que Lucifer (por supuesto) había planeado. Él no decidió ir con cena y opera, sabía está vez, que no es algo que Chloe hubiese querido hacer, quizás otro día, en otro momento, pero no ahora.

Ellos tuvieron una cena especial cocinada por él. Ellos bailaron a la música de los 90 que Lucifer hizo sonar en sus parlantes, y ellos incluso tocaron su pequeña perfecta canción en el piano. Pensándolo, el día juntos comenzó realmente muy temprano en la mañana cuando Lucifer fue a recoger la detective y la ayudó a cocinar un omelet para el desayuno. De ahí fueron a la playa, y simplemente caminaron a lo largo de esta. La línea costera era de verdad hermosa especialmente cuando se está manejando en el carro de Lucifer con la vista perfecta. Después de un rato caminado, Chloe fue la que invitó a su ángel a nadar por un rato, algo simplemente simple. Él acordó con gusto, ya que estaba preparado para ello, lo que sorprendió a Chloe extremadamente. Ellos se reían mientras tenían diversión en la playa, algo que estaba muy apreciado por ambos.

Más tarde, estaban de vuelta en su penthouse, que no era sorpresa, porque Lucifer estaba en la necesidad de un cambio de ropas, por supuesto. Chloe se rió y giró sus ojos a su increible pero único comportamiento, que lo hacía amarlo aún más, si eso era incluso posible. Chloe estaba preparada también, ella quería ir y relajarse en la playa y consideró la posibilidad de que quizás vayan a nadar, así que tenía ropas extras con ella. En la penthouse tomaron turnos duchandose, limpiándose completamente. Después se relajaron con el piano y de ahí bailaron a la música de los 90. Finalmente después de comer la cena -que Lucifer cocinó feliz- fueron al balcón con bebidas en sus manos, las cuales, obviamente, Lucifer terminó primero pero relleno. Se estaba haciendo tarde, se estaban sintiendo cansados, pero el atardecer era muy hermoso para dejarlo pasar. Ellos hicieron como cualquier otra pareja haría, y se sentaron juntos, abrazaron, y admiraron el sol hasta que desapareció. Incluso cuando no eran como otros, porque ellos eran no otro que el diablo y su precioso milagro, o la detective y su ángel.

El Fin :D :D

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cssns · 1 year ago

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We have a new chapter of Carolina Moon by @snowbellewells this evening!!! With artwork by @eastwesthomeisbest. Enjoy everyone and be sure to give them lots of love!!!!

CSSNS23 MC "Carolina Moon" {Chapter One}

Oh goodness, it's nearing the end of Friday, but I've managed to make my weekly deadline. Here's the first full chapter of my @cssns23 fic after last week's prologue, and I hope those of you who have started this journey with me will enjoy the new addition.

Thanks once again to @eastwesthomeisbest for the gorgeous cover art!! (She's actually created a second one for me, but I'm waiting until a little later in the story to unveil it, so keep your eyes peeled for that!) And thanks too for @xarandomdreamx who was a wonder beta help with some details and questions I had and typos I'd made.

This story is also available on AO3 HERE

Summary: Emma Swan has returned to the town she grew up in, and the past that has haunted her no matter where she has run. She seeks answers and peace at last. Despite the years that have passed, some things haven't changed very much in Storybrooke, South Carolina, and one of those things is Killian Jones. He never forgot the gangly girl with the world on her shoulders and pain in her eyes, but will he finally be able to slip past her defenses and help her find the answers she seeks?

Chapter One: Old Friends and Old Scars

As Emma Swan rolled slowly onto the main street of Storybrooke, a strange sense of warmly comforting deja vu enveloped her. Though more than a bit of relief to the nervous tremors which had been shivering through her limbs and turning her fingers white where she clutched the steering wheel, it also surprised her. So much pain and so many awful memories resided here, and she’d intended to shed them permanently when she left this place behind her. Sure, she had returned of her own free will, but it was reluctant at best; she had no one and nowhere else to go.

The moment she’d turned 18, the very second she could escape from the living nightmare she had borne, and which continued to follow her, Emma had left Storybrooke in the hot summer dust rolling behind the wheels of the first bus out of town she could afford. No one had ever fully believed she wasn’t to blame - at least in part - for the shocking crime that had rocked the small, sleepy community that summer when they were 13. Nevermind if Emma often felt it had broken her as much as anyone, or if it made no sense for her to destroy the one relationship that had bolstered her constantly and provided the only safe haven she had ever known; once people believed a thing, it was hard to convince them otherwise. Her foster father had certainly assumed her guilt. Claiming she shamed him and cost him business from townsfolk who blamed her strangeness on her “raising”, he’d beaten her bloody for that and countless other faults, enough that the skin of her back bore permanent scars. She’d barely graduated high school when she could bear it no longer; deciding she would rather go hungry and sleep on the streets if she had to than to take any more abuse, she had finally seen her chance and flown.

If it hadn’t been for Rose - for their giggled secrets at their swimming hole hideout and the sleepovers in Rose’s pretty floral and ruffled room with a bookcase on each wall and their shelves still overflowing and spilling onto the floor - she would have never found a moment’s peace or been able to close her eyes to sleep for even one night here and there. Rose had been everything a best friend should be: steady, loyal, wickedly funny and smart, but with a kind heart able to see the best in a person, even to her own fault. Just as the thought had plagued her back then, Emma couldn’t help thinking even now as she pulled into a parking space outside the empty shop front she had rented, ‘Too bad in the end that trusting nature, that desire to help, was what probably got her –’

Thump, thump. Startling with a jerk after barely turning off the keys in the ignition, she’d been so lost in years past and her reminiscence of those sweet brown eyes that had always only ever seen her as she’d hoped to be - as family - Emma swung over to look out the passenger window and found possibly the only other face in the world that might be glad to see her; a beaming, grown-up and adorably pleased Graham Humbert waved at her enthusiastically through the glass. Shaking her head, Emma gathered her simple, small purse, keys, and phone, as she slid out of her vehicle, slamming the door behind her, and greeted him with a hug that warmed her to her bones, despite how she usually avoided physical contact.

Her smile was somewhat chagrined and tentative as she offered an awkward little shrug with her soft, “Hey there, Stranger,” upon pulling back from the embrace.

Her former foster brother was having none of it; in two long strides, he’d pulled her to the sidewalk before a second tight bear hug nearly lifted her off her feet. “Stranger is right!” he exclaimed, squeezing her affectionately before stepping back to hold her at arm’s length, eyes sparkling with humor as he took her in, much as she was doing with him. Clearly he wasn’t going to let the fact that she had vanished for nearly two decades, failed to keep in touch, and then only looked him up when she needed a favor, stand in the way of their former bond. “Look at you, Emma! It’s so good to see you!”

Objectively, Emma knew his warm welcome was probably more than she deserved. And, while she was being objective, as she took Graham in quickly from head to toe, she could also see that most women would be melting into a puddle at his feet with the way the gawky 14-year-old she remembered had changed. Though hardly musclebound, she could feel the wiry strength in his long, lean build as he held her upper arms in his hands. His honey-colored curls were as tousled and riotous as ever, but it worked for him in a much less innocent way now that it matched a perfectly trimmed scruff over an attractively chiseled jawline. And those large, guileless eyes of his were still twin pools a person could willingly drown in. She was actually quite thankful suddenly that he still felt more like a brother to her; that sort of entanglement was the last kind of trouble she needed. She had more than enough problems already, and had probably only invited more by returning to Storybrooke after successfully making a clean break.

Despite all that though, his welcome and happiness to see her were contagious, and she could feel the wider, more genuine smile stretching her own lips pleasantly. For all her reservations and worry about coming back, it felt good to see a friendly face, to know that someone was glad to see her. It had been much too long since she’d felt that sort of appreciation and understanding, even from those she spoke to and worked with every day. Boston was too large and bustling a city, and she was too much of a no-nonsense loner for her to have made anything more than a few work acquaintances. She’d been a great asset for the detetives she’d worked with, but as soon as she had made a mistake… That poor little boy’s pale, cold face flashed into her mind for an instant, before she jerked back to the present with a gasp, but it was enough to make her fail at passing it off as playful surprise when Graham looked at her curiously.

“Alright there?” he asked, as astute as ever. He dipped his head slightly to be more eye-to-eye with her despite his height advantage and attempted to search her face. He had always read her better than she was really comfortable with, but Emma was grown now, a professional, and well-practiced at her poker face, much better at pulling the shutter down over welling emotions than she’d been as a teen. Not to mention that after the betrayal she’d suffered from the man she had partnered with in Boston, it was much harder for anyone to read the emotions she chose not to display. Going into a bullpen full of people who saw her as a fake, a failure, or a liability, while the person who had benefited most from her insight and success so many times before had laid all the blame at her feet and turned away, had finally taught her for good how to shield against any and all who might get too close, and to wear the facade that showed she couldn’t even be bothered to care.

Giving a little scoff, she pasted on a teasing smile and replied, “Oh yeah, fine,” as she waved a hand dismissively. “Just a little scattered from driving for so long - and glad to see you again. I am surprised you’re still a single small town vet though. Look at you, Hunter! You ought to be on The Bachelor or something, or one of those hunky men with animals calendars. How do you not have a gaggle of ladies trailing along behind you, or a ring on that finger yet?”

As expected, her soft-spoken friend blushed to the roots of his hair, coloring his cheeks even under his dark stubble and spreading down his neck into his collar. It took the focus off her as she had hoped, diverting his concern and curiosity. “Hardly,” he mumbled, shaking his head and avoiding her gaze. In fact, Emma almost felt badly for deflecting. Had she touched a true nerve of insecurity? Could Graham really be unaware of the catch he had grown into since she’d seen him last? Or was he interested in someone in particular who had made him doubt himself? Or not returned his interest? She forcibly closed off the probing train of thought before her added sight began to pick up things Graham didn’t intend to show her. The physical contact along with his gentle, open warmth would have made it all too easy, even if accidental.

Emma couldn’t really imagine too many available young ladies who wouldn’t jump at the chance to warm the bed of her model attractive long-lost friend, especially seeing as he was also one of the best people she had ever known. He’d clammed up so suddenly though, brushing off her playful compliments and going painfully quiet, that she hurried to change the subject and smooth things over. “So, this is the place, huh?” she prompted, gesturing toward the storefront before them, the sign proudly proclaiming it was no longer on the market. “There wasn’t any trouble finalizing the paperwork?”

Graham shook his head easily, brushing off any lingering concerns she’d had about putting him out or causing him unnecessary stress and effort. She could only assume he was busy at his veterinary practice. Graham had always been smart, capable, and particularly in tune with animals of all varieties, even when they were young. And Storybrooke was still largely agricultural, rural with homes spread out between wide fields, rivers, woods and country roads. Nearly all would have farm animals, pets, or both, and Graham’s practice would be the only place in the county for folks to take their livestock if they didn’t want to travel a distance. He’d been kind enough to take time out of his schedule to help her scout locations in the town square to rent before her arrival, and so she at least had a shop ready and waiting for her to fill now that she was in town.

“Really?” she sought to confirm once more, rooting in her purse and trying to offer him something for his efforts - money that he predictably pushed back toward her with equal determination.

“Really, Emma. I’m serious. It was nothing.”

“If you say so,” she consented, sticking the twenties back into her bag, then taking the heavy, old-fashioned key he offered her and moving to unlock the door of her new shop.

“I do,” he reiterated. “It was as simple as stopping in to see Mary Margaret at the bank, asking to see the leases for places that were available to rent on Main, and then picking the best one out for you. She was thrilled to see the space in use and by someone she knows, likes, and can trust to take care of it, no less. Smooth as butter,” he added with a playful grin.

Shaking her head at his antics, Emma turned the key in the lock and pushed open the door to the empty, waiting space in which she was sure she would come to spend the bulk of her time. It might be a horrible idea to come back here and attempt to set up a business and make a living in a town people had been glad to see her leave. But in truth, it was time she returned. Trying to start over in another place with another life had ended up breaking her in all new ways, and it was time she stopped. Maybe she needed to have answers at last before her past could ever be laid to rest. And she wasn’t sure what else she could do with herself to earn a living. Her gift - or her curse, as it had more often felt to her - was inescapable. She’d tried to hide it, ignore the visions, shut out the way they flooded her and overwhelmed her senses since she was small, as far back as she could remember, but it had never worked. At least when she was working with the police in Boston, she could comfort herself with the knowledge that her solitary pain was doing some good. Though she wouldn’t be locating missing people or tracking down fleeing suspects, her instincts for reading people and situations, her vision and eye for details, even beyond what her second sight gave her, had granted her the ability to take stunning photographs - and to know when she saw truly gifted work done by others. She might not get as much business as she would in the city, but Storybrooke did have a tourist season where framed landscape shots might sell quite nicely, and there were still plenty of moneyed society ladies she had no doubt who would want family portraits taken or framed pieces to decorate their homes. She was counting on it being enough to keep a small, tasteful gallery afloat.

It wasn’t long before Graham’s lunch hour neared its end, and he had to be getting back to his practice for the afternoon. Laughing over the fact that there wasn’t anything more exciting on his schedule than an elderly basset hound who belonged to the local diner owner getting his annual vaccinations, Graham still admitted that the formidable Widow Lucas would not be happy if she and her beloved pet were stood up. Promising to come back afterwards and take her for a homecoming dinner, he saw himself out with a broad, jovial grin and a wave, leaving Emma warmed pleasantly by his welcome and smiling back in spite of herself, no matter how unfamiliar the expression had been in her life recently.

Once alone, Emma found the light switch, sat her purse on the long front counter, and located a broom in the corner to begin tidying up a bit, just making the space her own. However, she hadn’t been at it long before the bell over the entry rang, and she turned to see more at least vaguely familiar faces.

One of them was clearly David Nolan, all-American hometown golden boy, who had been a couple years ahead of her in school, though she remembered him well for being genuinely kind and decent to all, not just his fellow athletes and others in the popular crowd. She could even vividly remember one instance in her junior year when he had turned a corner into the hall where Storybrooke’s queen bee Regina Mills and her coterie of followers had cornered her to mock and shame her for her ripped, shabby second hand clothes and ugly glasses, which they’d taken, claiming they were trying to help her look less like a dog, and were passing them around their vicious circle just out of her reach. Even with her general tough exterior, Emma had been near either breaking into tears or socking Regina in the mouth, and was more than a little in awe when the captain of the football team had calmly walked up, plucked her glasses from one of the wide-eyed, staring minions, offered to take her books, and then proceeded to happily walk her to her next class as if it were the most natural thing in the world for him to do. She wasn’t at all surprised in looking at him as an adult to see that his broad shouldered form had changed very little other than with the addition of slight weathering and more laugh lines to his face. Nor was she at all shocked to note that he wore a sheriff’s badge on his chest; it seemed just the sort of job such an upstanding and protective type would decide to do.

The second visitor took her a moment longer to place, and when she did, Emma’s eyes popped wider in surprise. Where once a spindly, messy-haired runt - for lack of a better term - had stood, she now saw a confident, fit, and filled out Walsh Ozman. His khakis and dress shirt were fashionable and well-tailored, showing off a still-trim physique, but with more muscled arms and torso and a more commanding posture. His brown hair was also more neat and closely trimmed, giving him an altogether more polished and capable air. Clearly this was someone who had worked almost as hard as she had to change himself and put the person he once was in the rearview mirror.

Still, despite the change in his appearance and the genuinely welcoming smile he offered as he stepped forward to shake her hand, Emma was no less flabbergasted to hear him say, “Emma Swan! It’s been a long time. As Mayor of Storybrooke, let me be one of the first to say it’s good to welcome you back again.”

Emma knew she was gaping rudely, like a fish out of water, before she nodded in agreement and offered her hand to shake in return.

But the third person in the little welcoming committee was the one who pulled most at her attention, even though she was fighting valiantly not to let her gaze pause and linger longingly on his handsomely dark features. Her body’s reaction to his presence - even as he hung back behind his two friends wordlessly - was undeniable. Emma shuddered involuntarily. She flushed hot all over, only to then be swept by cold chills in turn. Killian Jones. No matter how many years she had been away, his face was one that could not be forgotten.

Killian Jones, brother of the best friend she had ever known, the soul sister she had loved and lost, and now as an adult he was scion of their family’s considerable land and legacy, seemingly even more far removed from who she was and what she’d come from than he had been in their youth. He had always been there on the periphery - even at fourteen, busy with trying to please and impress his father, and much too preoccupied with his own friends and teenaged concerns to pay much mind to his little sister and her pitiable friend. All the same, while they might not have spoken a lot or spent any real time together, Emma had always been aware of his presence. The easy explanation would be his rumpled, natural good looks - which had only improved with maturity, she noted - but deep down, Emma knew it was more than that. An almost electrical current had always traveled across her skin when he was in the same room. Though quieter and easier to hide, it was as intense and powerful as any of her visions. And even more compelling, there had always been something so real, so solid, about Killian Jones that reassured her. Even back when she could barely speak to him or meet his eye, even as she understood that it was most probably due to the sturdiness of who he was and the life he lived in contrast to the tenuous uncertainty that made up her everyday existence.

She had almost allowed herself to see a hint of understanding, of empathy, when she had caught his eyes in unguarded moments back then. When Rose would tell her every so often about something a beloved older sibling would do, like when ‘Killy’ had helped her with her math homework, or when she reminisced about her older brother being the one to finally help her master riding her bike without training wheels, Emma had listened raptly, easily hearing the affection behind the sisterly griping about him being a know-it-all, and knowing inside that her sense about Killian was right.

None of that made her any less tongue-tied or ill at ease as he stepped forward to greet her though. The pull that she had always felt between them, even after all the years and miles, still existed, was stronger than ever, and it was the last thing she needed. She could only remind herself forcefully, while she tried to give an unconcerned smile to him as he dipped his head and arched an eyebrow before murmuring, “Swan, at long last, we meet again,” in that slow-honey accent, that she wasn’t about to let some handsome charmer derail all the progress she’d made - not again.

“Jones,” she replied, inwardly cheering at how steady her voice sounded while her insides were quivering. Her lips quirked with a reciprocally teasing expression. She wanted to say more, to seem as at home and easy in her own skin as he did standing there, but that had never been her way, and no further words escaped her tight throat.

As if sensing the weighted import in the air and reading it all too clearly, David broke in then, explaining cheerfully how Graham had told them at their last poker night that she was moving back, and how Killian - whose family owned the simple cabin she was renting - had let slip when she was due to arrive, and that they had all come to say hello, catch up, and offer help with any carrying and moving chores she might need. Grateful for the conversation shift - and someone else to focus on - Emma thanked them all for the welcome and their offer to help. “I’m hardly sure what I need yet though,” she added ruefully, “Most of my stock hasn’t arrived, and what has should still be boxed up in the back room.”

David nodded his understanding and said, “That makes sense. Just let us know if something comes up, alright?”

Emma nodded, playfully patting his bicep and grinning broadly. It felt so much less weighted to banter with him than with Jones as she joked. “Oh, I’ll definitely take a raincheck on making use of you guys and all your manly muscles.”

“Especially now that I have some to offer,” Walsh put in with a self-deprecating chuckle. The affable look on his face and the way he good naturedly bore Killian and David’s agreement with his statement and jibing laughter amazed Emma all over again. The defensive, unpleasant spoilsport she remembered, who had seemed to hate trailing in his friends’ shadows, but been unwilling to give up the association with them at the same time, was utterly gone from the adult Walsh Ozman she saw before her. And he was well-known and well-liked enough to be voted Mayor. The little niggling of hope it gave her for how much people could change was impossible to mistake.

As the three men turned to file out, Emma began to gaze around the oen shop space in earnest, anxious to get a feel for it and determine how she might set things up. However, she paused, turning back to the door to see Killian hesitating on the threshold, looking back at her intently as if torn between whether or not he should speak. His buddies had moved on down the sidewalk. She could see them through the large front display window, but Killian seemed in no hurry to follow.

Raising both brows in curious prompting, Emma tried to wait patiently, all the while hoping he wasn’t about to contradict David’s words, tell her she wasn’t welcome in Storybrooke, that his family didn’t need her there dredging up buried memories and poorly healed wounds. It might cripple her to hear those words from the lips of her last fragile connection to Rose, but she would face it head on all the same. Even with the fear of his dreaded rebuff, she couldn’t pull her eyes away from his.

When his warm, low voice rasped out what was on his mind at last, she was stunned instead of devastated by the words that washed over her. “It really is good to see you, Swan. It’s been too long…” He dropped his eyes to the smooth wood floor and the scuffed toes of his work boots, wetting his lips with a distracting swipe of his tongue before continuing. “You suffered a loss too - just as I did, or my family did - but you weren’t allowed the sympathy, the support, the fair shake you should have been. It wasn’t right… or fair… and I - I’ve hoped… so many times over the years that I would be able to tell you h-how sorry I am for that…”

Her breath stopped, piling up like a logjam in her chest, and tears started abruptly in her eyes as she bit her lip to hold in an involuntary sob. She shook her head - it wasn’t his fault! - and tried to respond, only to again find that no words would come and she continued to simply stare. Grasping for enough control to hold herself together, she took one wobbling step closer, wanting to offer some sort of comfort or thanks, before fumbling to a halt again.

It was so much more than what he had managed to get out, Killian found himself thinking. More and more went racing through his brain without finding voice to leave his mouth. Though his father had slowly pulled away from them after Rose’s loss - withdrawing in his despair and impotence to bring his darling back, abdicating his role as father to two surviving children and leader of their family, until he eventually drank himself to death - his mother had steeped in her bitterness and her stiff, proper gentility. She was convinced that her angelic youngest’s friendship with that undeserving child and her sneaking away to the woods the night she died, was completely Emma’s fault. She had never felt Emma Swan was a suitable companion for Rose, had barely tolerated Emma’s entering the house beyond the front hall when she visited, and hated the thought of their family being associated with the one which had fostered the strangely silent and unnerving young girl. Ruby had never had much in common with her twin, but had followed their mother in disliking Emma once Rose was gone. Killian had always suspected it was partly out of guilt, partly out of jealousy that Rose had found a sister of the spirit in her friend that she’d never had with her sibling, and maybe partly because it was the only way Ruby knew to lash out against their parents. Though she looked just like Rose, and had tried for years to be exactly what they wanted, she couldn’t ever live up to the child they had lost. Rose would be forever perfect in memory, and neither she nor Killian could hold a candle to her.

None of that blame belonged on Emma Swan’s conscience though, and it never had. His family had been wrong in working behind the scenes to turn public opinion against her foster father - wreck of a man though he was. Emma’s life had only become worse for the remainder of her school years. Killian didn’t know all the details, but it had to have done so. She didn’t even have a place to gain a few hours’ respite, nor Rose to listen to and understand her. He still hated himself for saying nothing, and not being old enough to find a way to do something, when he’d seen how she’d limped up their front walk that horribly normal-seeming morning just after dawn. The welts up the back of her legs and clearly carrying on over her back beneath her frayed shorts and faded top left her barely able to stand up straight, holding herself stiffly as she choked out her fear that something had happened to Rose and she needed to take them to her. He’d nearly swallowed his own tongue when his father had gripped her by the shoulders and shaken her harshly, demanding to know what she was talking about. She’d let out this shrill little keening noise like a wounded animal, but hadn’t fled. She’d merely stared back into Brennan Jones’s face dully, her voice flat once she’d gotten her breath back - he knew now from probably having the painful remnants of a beating torn back open by his father’s thoughtless actions - and repeated, “She went to our spot last night - out by the pond. We were supposed to meet at midnight. I c-couldn’t…. I wasn’t able to get there…But someone else was. I can show you, but we need to go to her.”

The chill that had run down his spine at her words, and the broken, lifeless expression in her eyes as she spoke them, had never truly left Killian. The shock that had taken him over, and the nightmarish blur of chaos the rest of that day and the days that followed had become, had kept him from realizing at first just how much Emma too must have been suffering, how badly she had been hurt as well, though she’d survived when Rose did not, how badly all of them had failed her.

Granted, his family had never been the same after that. His father had commissioned a marble statue, a graceful, peaceful likeness of Rose which still watched over those quiet waters his child had once adored, but locked himself away from his surviving family behind a stony silence which was every bit as cold and impenetrable. His mother had proclaimed Emma Swan was never to be spoken of in their house again, and it was as though the one link he could have maintained to Rose ceased to exist. With every year that passed, his mother seemed to grow colder, more brittle, more correct, and more distant from the two children who still needed whatever love she might have found to offer them. Ruby had simpered and sashayed, charmed half the boys in the county while winning pageant titles and talent shows, until she finally decided that no accomplishment would ever crown her as her lost sister. She’d then given up, thrown caution to the wind, lived for her own thrills and pleasure until she had eloped and run off with Pete Lupino mere weeks shy of finishing high school. He still didn’t know - wasn’t sure he wanted to know - where all she had been, what she’d done, and whom she had done it with, before she’d blown back into town three years ago, taken up residence in her childhood bedroom, and proceeded to set their mother’s teeth on edge at every turn, still seeking some relief from the ghosts that haunted her.

Be that as it may, they’d still had each other, if they had been willing to see it. Emma had never possessed a family, very few friends, or even a safe place to call home. Without Rose, she must have felt completely adrift and even more at the mercy of the forces which shaped and buffetted her life. Killian couldn’t undo what had already been done, but he had vowed long ago - had even accepted that it might well be part of him ever managing to find some peace - that if Fate presented him with a chance to make things up to her, to set some of his family’s wrongs right, he wouldn’t hesitate to do just that.

His mind circled back to the present when Emma shook her head emphatically, her mouth opening and closing without emitting audible words, but finally curving into a trembling smile. “That’s - I - thank you…” she finally managed softly. “But it wasn’t your fault. I know how it looked, and what your parents - hell, what half the town thought… You don’t need to apologize.”

“But I do!” Killian cut her off quickly, not meaning to keep her from speaking, but needing her to know this truth at least. “I knew… I’ve always known! You had nothing to do with what happened! It wasn’t your fault. There wasn’t anything you could have done. I don’t know what else people might have put on you, or what you might have put on yourself, but Rose wouldn’t have wanted any of that - would have told us all off if she could have seen the way you were treated. You were her best friend, and she wanted to meet you that night. The only- ” and there his words did choke up on him, emotion threatening to overcome his intentions. “The only good thing that did happen that night was that you didn’t make it out there, or that monster would have killed you too.”

Emma sighed, shaking her head sadly, and turning to lean her hip against the high counter next to her, running her hand over its polished surface and avoiding his eyes. “I’m not sure how good that was, really,” she whispered, barely loud enough for him to hear, and possibly meant only for herself. “If I could have changed places with her, let her somehow be here now, alive and well, I would have.”

He took two long strides across the room and stood right in front of her, dipping his head to peer into her face, refusing to let her avoid his stare. “Don’t say that,” he pled fervently. “I’ve thought the same thing more often than I can count, but it won’t do any good… it won’t bring her back.”

Stunned and almost entranced as she watched his throat work, Emma wasn’t sure what to make of him at that moment, the intensity radiating off of him enough to singe her skin. He was standing so close she could see the way the cerulean depths of his eyes swirled with his stormy emotion, and she wanted to lean on him, to believe he cared as deeply as it seemed, no matter how undeserved or nonsensical it might appear. It was impossible, but to think that he might actually care whether she stayed or went, or what happened to her next, was bolstering and revelatory. It had been all too rare in her life, and for a moment Emma just wanted to breathe in that feeling.

There was little else to be said, but eventually Killian backed up slightly, offered her a crooked smile, and tried to ease them back onto more normal footing. “Well, talk about making things awkward, eh?” he chuffed, shaking his head and clearly laughing at his own expense. “I didn’t mean to seem quite that intense, but… it needed to be said.”

Emma merely stared back at him, allowing one more real, unforced smile to break through. “Most of my life is awkward,” she shrugged. “Try being able to see people’s thoughts and intentions without meaning to and without warning. It isn’t a great way to make friends.”

He snorted a surprised sort of laugh through his nose at the unexpected retort, and she joined him, easing some of their lingering discomfort. He proceeded to make sure that she had the key to the cabin rental for when she’d head home that night, assured her that she should call if there were any problems or she needed anything, and then he finally left her to her planning and unpacking, his heart feeling some small bit lighter. It was only a start, but it was a beginning step he’d needed to take for a long time, and he already felt better for it.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Across the street, just around the corner and out of sight, another watched and waited, knowing his time at last had come. There was a heady mix of anticipation and rage swelling within as he peered across the quiet Main Street. Her lithe, enticing form moved in and out of view frustratingly often as she explored the space and as the bright sun cast a glare off the window glass from the distance and angle at which he stood. There was nothing for it though; he had enough of his wits about him not to venture any closer, even with the evening shadows beginning to gather.

So the little swan had at last come home to roost, back where she belonged. She had escaped him then, and he’d made do with half the set, the pair who were meant to be his. But now that voice inside him, the one which had always guided him, cackled and rose with renewed hunger. At last he would finish it; all would be as it should. He had waited, oh so patiently, always knowing his time would come. He’d hunted when he needed to, but it had never been quite right - not since the first time all those years ago. Just a bit longer, he’d bide his time. She wouldn’t see him coming. No one ever had, and even she, with her strange, sad, knowing eyes, would be none the wiser until it was too late. Until he had finally brought it all full circle and made Emma Swan his own.

Tagging a few who might enjoy: @cssns @searchingwardrobes @jennjenn615 @kmomof4 @laschatzi @whimsicallyenchantedrose @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @stahlop @jrob64 @apiratewhopines @wefoundloveunderthelight @eastwesthomeisbest @xarandomdreamx @sotangledupinit @justanother-unluckysoul @booksteaandtoomuchtv @kazoosandfannypacks @anmylica @motherkatereloyshipper @jonesfandomfanatic @elizabeethan @the-darkdragonfly @donteattheappleshook @xsajx @lfh1226-linda @winterbaby89 @hollyethecurious @darkcolinodonorgasm @resident-of-storybrooke @drowned-dreamer @optomisticgirl @tiganasummertree @spartanguard @therooksshiningknight @gingerchangeling @gingerpolyglot @blackwidownat2814 @blowmiakisscolin @let-it-raines @bdevereaux @caught-in-the-filter

#cssns23 #carolina moon #snowbellewells #art by eastwesthomeisbest

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cssns · 2 years ago

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CSSNS23 IS A GO!!!!!

Alright y’all!!!! Get ready!!!! Sounds like there’s still PLENTY of interest in another year of the Captain Swan Supernatural Summer!!! I have to admit, I’m AMAZED AND SOOOOOO EXCITED!!!!

THANK Y’ALL SO MUCH!!!!!

So here are the deets...

Sign ups will be open from February 20- March 1.

Get To Know Me’s will start dropping in late April or early May.

Posting Dates will be in July, stretching into August if needed.

For those new shipmates not familiar with the Captain Swan Supernatural Summer, this is an event I created back in 2018 to address the woeful lack of Werewolf Killian fics. And we have succeeded many times over!!! The event is open to everyone. The only requirement is the fic or artwork has to be CS focused and supernatural in nature. In past years we’ve had werewolf, vampire, fae, selkie, soulmate, shapeshifter, witch, ghost, and many, many others!!

All of the past years fics can be found on ao3 here.

Any fic length is fine, from a 100 word Drabble to a 250,000 word epic MC. Any rating is fine. Any type of artwork is fine, from using traditional mediums of paint and drawing, to digital artwork to videos to gifs. Artists can elect to do their own original artwork and/or they can be paired with a fic writer to do artwork for the fic being written. And we certainly hope to have enough artists sign up that we can pair every author with an artist that wants to be paired. So please! SPREAD THE WORD!!!

Signups open a week from tomorrow, and this post will be reblogged daily on this blog as well as this years mods’ blogs in order for the most people to see the announcement!!

Any questions, you can leave an ask here, or get in touch with me or one of our other mods- @kmomof4 @winterbaby89 @jrob64 @ultraluckycatnd @stahlop - either on Tumblr or discord.

Come join us!!! It’s gonna be another great SUPERNATURAL SUMMER!!!!

Tagging all former participants to help spread the word!!! Under the cut unless Tumblr ate it.

@kymbersmith-90 @hollyethecurious @hookedonapirate @searchingwardrobes @emmaswanchoosesyou @justbecauseyoubelievesomething @shireness-says @the-corsair-and-her-quill @youre-not-a-cat-youre-a-rat @everlastingcaptainswan @resident-of-storybrooke @donteattheappleshook @artistic-writer @winterbythesea @awkwardnessandbaseball @branlovestowrite @natascha-remi-ronin @distant-rose @pirateherokillian @flipperbrain @snidgetsafan @thejollyroger-writer @seriouslyhooked @doodlelolly0910 @courtorderedcake @delightfully-difficult-pirate @nerdyhuntress @rouhn @drowned-dreamer @stubble-sandwich @its-imperator-furiosa @technicallysizzlingcloud @spartanguard @captainstudmuffin @andyousaidtruelovedidntexsist @wordsmith-storyweaver @snowbellewells @initiala @ilovemesomekillianjones @jarienn972 @coaldustcanary @gingerchangeling @blessed-but-distressed @mahstatins @jennifer-morrison @polarbearmorgan @teamhook @totheendoftheworldortime @stubble-sandwich @winterbaby89 @lenfaz @yayimallamaagain @tehgreeneyes @cocohook38 @eastwesthomeisbest @allons-y-to-hogwarts-713 @forestiyari @abeylin1982 @shipsxahoy @seastarved @wingedlioness @the-irish-mayhem @katie-dub @shady-swan-jones @bleebug @blackwidownat2814 @darkcolinodonorgasm @djlbg @emeraldwitches @faerytold @huffleporg @idristardis @lassluna @let-it-raines @lizzyc807shipscaptainswan @wistfulcynic @thislassishooked @ultraluckycatnd @welllpthisishappening @whimsicallyenchantedrose @wyntereyez @demisexualemmaswan @imlaxdris71 @ohmightydevviepuu @shardminds @thisonesatellite @stahlop @lovelivingmydreams @iamstartraveller776 @goforlaunchcee @carpedzem @mariakov81 @clockadile @eirabach @thesschesthair @tornadoamy @justanother-unluckysoul @killianjones-twopointoh @veryverynotgoodwrites @everything-person @myfearless-love @zaharadessert @deckerstarblanche @killiansprincss @wefoundloveunderthelight @th3capta1n @sotangledupinit @grimmswan @motherkatereloyshipper @mie779 @o-wild-west-wind @whatevenisthisbloganymore @romanceapologist @undercaffinatednightmare @tintedfl0wers @tennant-the-tigger @piinfeathers @freechoicedreamer @purplehawkcaptain @jonesfandomfanatic @jrob64

#cssns23 #announcement #cssns23 is a go!!!#come join us!!!

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gates-of-hell-fic · 5 years ago

Link

Chapters: 3/7

Fandom: Lucifer (TV)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Relationships: Mazikeen & Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV)

Characters: Mazikeen (Lucifer TV), Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV), The Lilim Additional Tags: Developing Friendships, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Wings, Magic, Angst, Captivity, Objectification, Physical Abuse, Torture, Aftermath of Torture, Pre-Canon, Hell Trauma, Hell, Intrigue, Whump, Worldbuilding, List, Lucifer Is Super Tragic

Series: Part 1 of Gates of Hell

Summary:

The Devil wasn't always the King of Hell. He was outcast and broken, a resource, a possession. Then Mazikeen claimed him, beginning a friendship and partnership that would last aeons.

@deckerstar-bigbang

#deckerstarbigbang2019 #gatesofhellfic #lucifer #mazifer #eastwesthomeisbest #lucifans #lucifamily #dailylucifernetflix #lucifer fanfiction #lucifer edit #lucifer morningstar #mazikeen #lucifer is super tragic #whump #worldbuilding #lucifer prompts #lucifer tv #lucifer netflix

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frauleinsmaria · 6 years ago

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The Village Is a Glow (1/2)

A/N: Merry (belated) Christmas to those of you who celebrate! This was written for my @cssecretsanta2k18 giftee, @eastwesthomeisbest , who expressed an interest in modern au’s with a fantastical element. While this was a bit out of my comfort zone where fic is concerned (and ended up being fairly light on the fantasy), I took suggestions from a few friends and came up with this story based on some of her preferences. This was both fun and challenging to write, and I've so enjoyed interacting with you over the past few weeks! Part 2 should hopefully be up and posted by this time next week.

Special thanks to @profdanglaisstuff for beta’ing, @justanotherwannabeclassic and @forestiyari for helping me think of this idea, and @welllpthisishappening for answering my questions about NYC. (Also, please keep in mind that I’m not a native, so there may or may not be a few things I did less research on that should be taken with a grain of salt.)

AO3

Three years and a handful of questionable experiences had shown Killian that almost anything was possible in New York.

For starters, there were things like the number of naked people you could spot on a normal day in Times Square, a Storm Trooper getting arrested, and a teenage couple making out while standing in a dumpster. And those were all things he’d seen within the first week after his move. Being a photographer had only given him the opportunity to catch things like this on camera and show them to his friends both in the city and back home in London who didn’t quite buy the odd stories he had to tell on any given day.

Despite the regularity of seeing things that made him wish he had issues with his memory, there was so much Killian loved about his now home that made up for it all. He loved the constant energy and excitement that lived within the city, whether that be in the middle of the night or first thing in the morning. The first few weeks after his move, he’d dealt with the jet lag by wandering around at all hours of the night and taking pictures, trying but never fully succeeding to capture the neon lights, hoards of people, and bumper to bumper traffic guaranteed to be found at every corner.

Killian also had to credit the move to New York for getting his freelance photography career off the ground. He’d gotten some attention back in London from friends and colleagues, but it wasn’t until after relocating when he began posting pictures he’d taken around the city that his Instagram account started to receive a considerable amount of attention. He was able to use the site as a way to both market his work and seek out potential clients. Since coming to New York, he’d received offers to shoot everything from weddings and parties to family portraits and sessions for online companies and influencers. He still took a few shifts a month at a local bar to make ends meet, but he was grateful his photography was able to cover most of the costs and requirements that came along with living in New York.

Killian had grown to love almost everything about his new home and tried to encompass as much of it as possible in his photos, but the main focus on his Instagram account over the past year or so had been capturing the lives of mundane New Yorkers like himself on film. Killian had soon learned thanks to comments from his friends back at home that most outsiders saw the city as the home for the rich and famous, and assumed only those that fit one or both of those categories were able to thrive and succeed there. It wasn’t hard to believe that such ideas existed thanks to the typical depictions of New Yorkers in fiction and the media. But, from his experience, the majority were just common people trying to make a life in the city that never slept.

And, yes, many of these people and the pictures he took of them were a little on the unusual side. But he’d never taken a photo that made him question his own sanity, until he met her.

It started on a Tuesday morning. Despite having the ability to create his own work schedule most of the time, he preferred getting out early a few times a week to take photos and observe the city as the work rush began. He’d been walking around with his camera for an hour or so around Tribeca taking snapshots of people and scenes that caught his eye. There was the elderly couple holding hands while waiting at a crosswalk, a young dog walker who looked as if he could barely keep up with his four legged clients, and one he was particularly fond of, a pair of young twins sisters walking their dog in Hudson River Park he couldn’t wait to share after receiving permission from their parents.

It was just after eight-thirty when he decided to wrap things up before he went back to his apartment to edit this morning’s photos and make a call to a client who he was scheduled to do an engagement shoot for that weekend. He wasn’t far from a nearby cafe when he spotted a distinct golden glow coming up from the side of a building. It was probably just the way the early morning sun was reflecting, but it caught his attention enough that he considered it worth documenting for himself if nothing else.

After taking a handful of photos, he was scrolling through the media library on his camera while still walking (something he should have known better than to do in the first place) when he felt himself slam into something just as he was passing the building in the picture.

“Oh!”

Whoops. Not something, a person. The first things he saw were blonde curls and a pair of bright green eyes that didn’t look nearly as angry with him as they should.

“Bloody hell,” he cursed under his breath. “I’m terribly sorry, love. Are you alright?”

“Well, I’m definitely awake now,” she laughed. Killian was grateful she didn’t look ready to strangle him, which seemed fair considering the circumstances. “Just maybe be careful what you do with that thing while you’re walking,” she added, nodding toward his camera. She had to either be a saint or in an exceptionally good mood.

He shoved his camera back inside the bag on his shoulder. “You’re right. I apologize again. Can I buy you a coffee to make up for it?”

“Emma Swan. Make it hot chocolate instead and you’re forgiven.”

He liked this woman already. “Killian Jones. And I believe I can swing that.”

Killian opted for taking her to the nearby cafe he often visited since he knew they served hot chocolate, as well as his own preferred Americano. It was a short walk from where they were now.

“This is neat,” she said when they arrived and she followed him inside. He had stumbled across Gotan in Tribeca not long after his move to the city, and often dropped in at least once a week to drink coffee while he edited photos or answered client calls. The modern, eclectic feel of the place made it enjoyable for working, and hopefully enjoyable for sharing a hot drink with the stranger he’d just inconvenienced.

There surprisingly wasn’t a crowd considering what time of day it was, so they were able to quickly order their drinks. Emma picked out a table near one of the large windows, wanting to sit by the sunlight.

“Tell me something about yourself, Swan. Do you live in the city?”

She nodded. “As of last weekend, yes. I’ve bounced around different areas on the East coast for awhile now, but it was time for a change, and my friend had an extra room in her apartment. So, here we are. What about you?” she asked. “Although the accent kind of gives your roots away.”

“Afraid so.” As the barista approached the table with their drinks, he briefly explained his childhood and life in London and why he’d chosen to move to the city. “There wasn’t much rhyme or reason behind it. I also wanted a change, and to do something with my photography. New York seemed to be the best option. I’ve been here almost three years now; it’s worked out well, at least by my standards.”

“I hope some of your luck is contagious then.” Emma took a sip of her hot chocolate and gave what he hoped was a satisfied smile. He saw then that she’d gotten whipped cream on the corner of her mouth and tried not to laugh, instead handing her a napkin from the stack on the table. “You’ve got a little something there, love.”

She laughed when she caught her own reflection in the window and wiped the mess away. He liked hearing her laugh. Actually, he liked quite a few things about her, he soon realized as they spent the next half hour discussing everything from rom coms to the best restaurants in New York.

“You’re the first guy I’ve ever met who’s willingly admitted to liking Mean Girls.”

Killian shrugged. “I suppose you could say I’ve been personally victimized by Regina George, love.”

It was a bit of a disappointment when she announced she had to leave. “Job interview,” she explained.

“In that case, I hope some of my luck you mentioned earlier is contagious too.” Killian considered asking for her number but decided against it; it seemed too forward and there was a good chance she wouldn’t be up for sharing personal details with someone who was still virtually a stranger in many ways. “Perhaps I’ll be lucky enough to run into you again in the future? Although I’ll try not to make it literally next time.”

“Thanks. And I appreciate the consideration.” She smiled and disappeared around the corner a moment later. Despite being in a city with millions of people, a small part of him couldn’t help but hope he hadn’t seen the last of her.

He spent most of the afternoon uploading the morning’s pictures onto his laptop to see which ones were worth holding onto. Most of them turned out well, aside from a few that were out of focus and one unintentional shot of the sidewalk he’d taken while trying to avoid being hit by a pigeon. The few that stood out the most, though, were the handful he’d snapped of the sun coming around the side of the building where he’d come across Emma Swan. They weren’t particularly great in comparison to some of the others he’d taken earlier, but what he hadn’t seen before was a strange golden glow that seemed to cover the scene like a filter. He must have hit something on his camera that changed the color settings when he and Emma collided. That was the only reasonable explanation.

Even though it was unlike the others and wasn’t his normal style, it was the one he posted on Instagram first after making a few minimal edits.

Kjones87: I’d call it a successful day.

If he noticed the number of likes and comments were higher than on any other photo he’d uploaded recently, he chalked it up to coincidence, or maybe what Emma Swan thought was his good luck.

The scheduled engagement photoshoot plus a local business event he’d been asked to photograph at the last minute kept him busy enough that he wasn’t given a chance to repeat his habit of wandering around the city with his camera until the following week. It was Wednesday when he found himself exploring Tribeca again. He liked the area, and it was close enough to his apartment that avoiding public transportation was typically an option.

His routine followed the same pattern it normally did, simply walking around to take random snapshots of people or things that caught his eye, until two women holding hands approached him at City Hall Park.

“Hi,” said the taller of the two brunettes, wearing a bright shade of red lipstick that matched the streaks in her dark hair. “I really hope I won’t bother you by asking, but is there any way you’d be willing to take a picture of my girlfriend and me?” she asked, holding up her phone and squeezing said girlfriend’s hand, a shorter woman with dark curls and a stack of books sticking out of the bag on her shoulder. “If you don’t have time or you’d rather not that’s totally fine, we just saw you taking pictures and figured you would know what you were doing better than someone else.”

Flattered by the unexpected request, Killian reached for the woman’s phone and then paused, thinking of a better idea. It wasn’t something he would normally suggest in similar circumstances, but they seemed like a sweet couple and why waste the opportunity to do something nice for them? “I can do you one better. Suppose I take several shots of you two on my camera and just email you the final results?”

“Seriously?” the shorter brunette asked. “How much do you charge for doing something like that?”

“No charge. I mean it,” he continued when they both attempted to protest. “I would probably consider posting one or two pictures on my Instagram, with your permission of course.”

Killian spent the better part of an hour following the couple around the park and taking various pictures of them holding hands and embracing in the different picturesque locations. He found out their names were Ruby and Belle, and they had come to the city from Boston for a few days to celebrate their second anniversary.

“Are you sure we can’t pay you?” Belle asked for the umpteenth time when they were preparing to leave. “I mean, we’ve probably taken up a good part of your day.”

“I was glad to do it,” he insisted. “I hope you enjoy the rest of your trip.” He got both of the women’s contact information and watched as they left the park hand in hand.

He was just walking away when he heard a vaguely familiar voice. “I hope that camera hasn’t caused any run-ins today.”

Killian turned and saw Emma Swan walking toward him, clutching a well-read paperback he couldn’t make out the tile of and a steaming cup of what he assumed was hot chocolate. “Ah, hello, Swan. And, no, I am pleased to report that I’ve succeeded in being aware of my surroundings since our meeting last week.”

“Good to know. Otherwise you’d probably go broke buying hot chocolates for every girl you ran in to in New York.”

“Aye. I’d rather save those for you anyway. I’d offer to buy you another if you hadn’t already beat me to it,” he said, gesturing to her cup, feeling both amused and reluctant.

She shrugged. “Maybe. But it’s almost lunchtime, and I never say no to a grilled cheese.”

He’d be an idiot to turn her down.

Emma chose the place this time, a small diner called Granny’s located a few blocks away. “My roommate got me hooked on this place,” she told him when they walked in and took a booth near the back of the restaurant. As expected, she ordered a grilled cheese with a side of onion rings, and a second hot cocoa topped with whipped cream and cinnamon. “Just because I can,” she explained when he raised an eyebrow at her odd selection. (She laughed when he caved and ordered the exact same thing.)

Killian learned quite a bit about Emma Swan during the hour they spent sharing greasy food and random tidbits of information. She shared that she’d recently been hired at a local bookstore, hence the interview she’d been headed to after their first encounter, had a liking for eighties teen movies, and usually found herself on Amazon Prime when she couldn’t sleep, leading to receiving a number of random items in the mail that she never quite remembered ordering. She asked a question about his photography, which led to him explaining what he did as a freelancer, as well as his occasional work at the bar.

He had just pulled out his phone to show her his Instagram page (which he realized later probably would have looked like gloating) when she had to leave for her shift at the bookstore. “I have a feeling you’ll see me again,” she said, almost as if she knew something he didn’t.

“I have a feeling you’re right.”

He spent the better part of his afternoon editing the photos of Ruby and Belle in the park earlier that day. When he got to the last of them, it was impossible not to notice the golden glow over the couple in the final picture he’d taken of them kissing in front of the fountain in the park.

The last picture he’d taken before meeting Emma.

Just like the last picture he’d taken the week before...right before meeting Emma.

There was a reasonable explanation behind all of this. There had to be. He just had no clue what said explanation was.

One thing was for sure, he needed to see Emma Swan again.

#eastwesthomeisbest #cssecretsanta2k18 #csss #cs ff #cs au #captain swan #captain swan ff #ouat ff #captain swan au #cs fic #captain swan secret santa #meredith writes #my writing

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