#MC!Nora

[foxyk7]

[sallowsswan]

When he calls my MC ignorant

MC: You're not listening-

Sebastian: Why would I listen to someone so ignorant?!

MC: *Immediately points wand into the side of his neck* I'm ignorant? I'm not the one manipulating my friends into following a crazy dark path for knowledge and a 'cure'. I'm not the one being cruel to those trying to help me in my quest to save my twin sister, but also help me try to see reason. I'M not the one that used the cruciatus curse on my friend and didn't even bother to show any sign of remorse or concern when they were on the ground, SCREAMING in pain because they wanted to help me! Oh but I'm ignorant? Fuck you Sebastian Sallow!

Sebastian: Unbelievable

MC: *pulls wand away, but only to smack him before turning around and walking away*

[raehstats]

people don't realize how shocking is Andrew's "that doesn't mean I wouldn't blow you" because some people read aftg already knowing they end up together (bc of spoilers).

BUT AS A PERSON THAT DID READ THE BOOK JUST THINKING IT WAS A SPORT BOOK, I WAS SHOCKED, TO THE BONE, I FELT LIKE SHOCKING ON MY OWN SPIT, I FELT LIKE THE DISLEXIA WAS ACTING UP, I FELT LIKE I WAS MISUNDERSTANDING, MISREADING SOMETHING.

[snowbellewells]

MY CSSNS23 MC: "Carolina Moon" {prologue}

**Thank you SO MUCH to my event artist @eastwesthomeisbest for the absolutely amazing cover art she created (in much less time than I should have afforded her). I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE it, and am thrilled to be able to put it with each update of my story. Also, I'm so grateful to have @xarandomdreamx as my beta for this fic as well, though I did not give her this prologue, so any mistakes here are absolutely and unfortunately mine! And thank you too to the @cssns as a whole for once again providing such a great event of which to be a part!!***

Here is my second submission to the @cssns23 event!! This one is a modern au of the Nora Roberts novel and subsequent tv movie Carolina Moon. The main female character in the movie is psychic/clairvoyant (I’ll admit, I’m not too sure about the distinction between the two) and I thought her visions and what she goes through in connection to them made a nice real-world parallel to Emma’s magic. (There’s also a scene in here where the male lead says something that I could so perfectly see Killian saying to Emma… I just cannot wait to get to that point!)

Anyway, I hope you will enjoy this romantic thriller with some murder mystery elements.  There are some instances of abuse and violence in here though - which I feel like I should mention, since that’s a little darker than my typical style. Most of them are in flashbacks of Emma’s past, or in visions she has of victims, more than in the actual present day plot; still I wanted to make people aware before we got too far.

Please enjoy! (I’d love to hear what you think.)

Prologue

July 1993

The water at their hideaway always feels so good. She could sink into it until her head slips below the surface and never, ever want to come up for air. It’s cooler, more luxurious than even the rich, satiny sheets on the trundle bed those rare nights when she gets to sleep over at Rose’s. Emma Swan’s gangly, 13-year-old limbs slice through the murky water as if the constant humidity and sultry air of Storybrooke, South Carolina can’t penetrate here in their little forest haven. She knows, of course, logically, that the real world isn’t all that far away. The shaded pond she and Rose discovered two summers ago is just a short trek into the woods at the furthest edge of Rose’s family’s boundless acreage. Still, it feels removed enough to bring Emma a sense of peace and contentment she gains nowhere else.

Looking over her shoulder to the large, smooth boulder jutting out of the pond at the bank where they left their flip flops and cutoff denim shorts, she can see her best friend stretched out with her new book where they had spread their towels on the rock’s surface, just in the wash of warming sunlight that streams through the tree branches overhead. Rose’s flawlessly creamy pale skin is prone to burning, but at the moment her friend seems willing to take the risk for the benefit of lazing cozily to read as she dries in the sun after taking a quick dip. Shaking her head, Emma plunges back under, happy to stay in the chilly water a bit longer herself. She knew as soon as they’d met outside Rose’s house that afternoon, and she had seen that Rose held a new Boxcar Children book in her hand, that her friend would not be able to resist burrowing into those pages for long.

It’s funny, Emma supposes, but that’s exactly what bonded she and Rose Jones in the first place. They might seem different on the surface, but in the end, neither of them quite fit with everyone else, and so they gravitate to each other, and have ever since Emma first arrived in Storybrooke as an eight-year-old orphan. They are each willing to give the other at least one person who takes them as they are and with whom they won’t have to pretend. Emma doesn’t care if Rose wants to read quietly and tell her about the stories she’s already finished instead of picking out dresses for the next cotillion class or preening in front of the mirror, practicing batting her eyelashes to charm boys or bragging to Emma about which ones she intends to kiss. Her sister Ruby, who shares the same thickly shining, burnished mahogany hair and pretty pink lips but little of her fraternal twin’s calming, gentle personality, does enough of that for the both of them. Their mother, a former debutante and southern belle, delights in the one daughter’s traditional coquettishness, and despairs of the other’s shyness. Cora Jones is a true throwback to another time who wants nothing more than to see both her daughters marry well and retain their places atop the social ladder. Emma could not care any less about such details; she is already clinging to the very bottom rung of such a social structure - if she and the so-called guardians with whom she lives are on the ladder at all. In turn, Rose doesn’t mock Emma for her thick, dark-framed glasses or secondhand clothes, nor does she cringe away from the “fits” that sometimes take hold of her friend, making strange, disturbing scenes Emma can’t understand flash across her mind with such intensity they sometimes knock her off her feet. Emma knows Rose’s mother and sister find her an unsuitable and embarrassing companion for Rose, but she is eternally grateful her friend seems able to see the best in anyone - even a lost girl nobody else wants - and so blithely acts as though she has no idea about the rest of her family’s opinions.

Cringing even while still submerged in the pond’s depths and practically invisible, Emma tries not to think of her unwanted visions. Her strict, hypocritical, and more than a bit deranged, foster father claims she’s possessed - and more than once has taken her episodes out of her hide. The man swears he’s beating the devil out of her and putting the fear of God in Satan’s place when he takes the thick leather strap to her shoulders, back and legs until she bleeds, but Emma has already lived long enough in a cruel and unfair world to know that his violence and “discipline” have less to do with parenting and concern for her soul, and more to show for his own twisted mind and overindulgence in the bottle. She wants to hide her spells from him, but when they come on her so abruptly and with such power, they are impossible to miss. She can’t fathom how a person like him was deemed fit to take in and care for a child, but mistreatment and injustice seem to be her lot in life thus far, and so she simply grits her teeth and survives.

It’s different though when the spells happen around Rose; the slight brunette merely rests a cool, steadying hand on Emma’s forehead or her arm until they pass, then she helps Emma stand until she feels in control again, listens as she attempts to make sense of whatever she’s seen, and most importantly… believes her. If only she could stay in the huge house Rose’s family calls home. She’d cook, clean, do chores, even stay in the servant’s quarters; Emma isn’t picky. It would still be a far sight safer than the situation she has in the rundown shack with the monster who’d been deemed her caretaker. Barring that, she would honestly rather live wild in these woods and survive off the land. She knew which plants and berries were safe to eat; Graham, her first friend, once a fellow orphan now happily adopted, had shown her ages ago, as well as taught her how to fish. It wouldn’t be easy, but she’d get by, and at least no one would lay a hand on her again.

This afternoon, those eerie images she sometimes has seem far away as she splashes up out of the water, trying to arc playfully like a mermaid as she breaks the surface. Drawing in a big gulp of air after staying underwater so long, Emma startles at the sound of teasing laughter, and whirls to see three figures on the bank where she and Rose left their shoes and shorts. 

“Well, look here,” calls out a taunting voice that never fails to set Emma’s nerves on edge. “It’s the baby beached librarian and her drowned rat friend!” None other than Emma’s nemesis, Killian Jones, crows from his vantage point on dry land.

Rose sits up ramrod straight, book still in hand and annoyed scowl on her face at Killian and his friends’ interruption to the quiet peace of their sanctuary. She isn’t genuinely angry, though; for all that she and her sister share little in common, she and her two-years-older brother are affectionately close. “Shut up, Killy!” she shoots back, throwing in the childhood nickname they all know he hates. “Who asked you to come looking anyway?”

The boy standing next to Killian speaks up next, making Emma scowl just as playfully as Rose had moments before. Graham Hunter might as well be her big brother; he’s the closest thing she’s had to family since her parents were lost in a car crash and she was thrown into the foster care system. Be that as it may, he and Killian Jones are thick as thieves, and he’ll give her a hard time for all he’s worth while in the presence of his buddy. “We just wanted to swim,” he calls across the water to the two girls, smirking at Emma, who now stands in the water with one hip jutting out and hands planted on her waist. “How were we supposed to know you two were infesting it?”

“Ha!” Emma jeers back, the affront plain in her voice; despite the fact that the entire routine is like a practiced girls-versus-boys exchange they’ve all engaged in countless times. There isn’t much else to do for entertainment in their sleepy little one-horse town. “You idiots know this is Rose’s and my hideaway, fair and square!”

“Well, Rose’s anyway,” a third voice cuts in snidely.

The cruel jab reminds Emma once more that to most folks she is just a charity case, quite possibly only included in anything at all because of her friend’s kind heart, and at the intentional slight, cuts her gaze to the third member of the boys’ little crew, skulking a step back in the shadows behind where Killian and Graham stand, as he always does. Her green eyes narrow to slits in genuine dislike and suspicion. Where before her animosity was largely for show, when they land on Walsh Ozman, it is all too real.

She has never understood why the other two boys - jokers and annoyances though they may be, but good guys when it comes right down to it - hang out with Walsh at all.  Where Graham and Killian are much more cut from the same cloth - athletic, outgoing, well-liked and pleasant - Walsh is a splindy, sniveling character, complaining and whining whatever their little trio gets up to. He lives not far from Emma’s foster father’s cabin with his single mother - a bushy-haired redhead who seems strangely overprotective and attached to her only child. Most people give the property a wide berth, except when high schoolers teepee it the whole month of October, and the general town consensus is that Zelena Ozman might be a witch and to steer clear. Still, beyond all of that, Emma might have been able to look past the boy’s circumstances and see him for himself - she of all people knew the gift it was not to be judged by where a person came from - if Walsh hadn’t simply given her “the willies”. Even standing too close to him made the fine hairs at the nape of her neck stand on end - and not in the way that nearness to Killian sometimes did; an altogether much more pleasant tingle, even if she was just as unable to explain one as the other.

“We could take their things,” Walsh suggests, holding up the threadbare, faded jeans Emma had left on the bank. “Make them walk back in their skivvies.” The wicked smile on his face makes Emma’s stomach turn over sickly.

Something sharp flashes in Jones’ eyes, his nostrils flaring slightly and his head giving a subtle shake of dissent that Emma can see even at the distance she stands away from him. Protectiveness, chivalry, or maybe the honor of a southern gentleman passed down to him through generations of his impressive family line; whatever it is, it sparks to life in his eyes at that moment as he quashes Walsh’s mean-spirited suggestion in no uncertain terms. “That’s my little sister you’re talking about Oz,” he growls, smacking the worn material from the smaller’s boy’s hands, even if the article of clothing isn’t Rose’s at all.

Emma feels her breath rush back into her lungs, though she continues to watch the guys warily for whatever they might do or say next. Before long, they grow bored of standing around and move on, hollering out age old taunts of “Bye, losers” and “Hey, smell ya later” to Emma’s derisive snort and Rose completely ignoring them to flip open her book again.

However, even with the intruders gone, it seems as if the perfect comfort of their retreat has been shattered by the unsettling interruption.  Soon, Emma wades to the shore and Rose clambers down from her perch, to dress once more and return to the world outside. For a moment, as she refastens her jeans around her skinny waist, Emma feels a strange prickling along the fine hairs on her arms… like they’re being watched. She jerks around, searching the surrounding trees and brush, but can’t see or hear a thing.

Rose’s small hand takes hers, snapping Emma out of the moment. “What is it?” she whispers, only true caring in her voice. “Did you sense something?”

Emma nods, but can’t give her suspicions voice. Usually her visions are clearer than that - this had just been heavy breathing and like looking at herself and Rose through another person’s eyes, outside her own body.

Rose stooped to grab the little canvas bag she’d bought along with water bottles, towels, and a second book in it. “Hey, don’t worry, okay?” she offers, hopeful and kind as always. “You’ll figure it out. Wanna meet back out here tonight? Secret Sister bonfire?” she winks mischeivously. “I have to get to dinner now. You know how Mama hates it if I’m not washed up and properly attired for the evening meal - or a second late. But we can talk some more then, maybe you’ll remember more and it will be clearer.”

Emma nods gamely. “The stars’ll be beautiful by midnight,” she suggests. “And we’ll definitely have the place all to ourselves.”

“Since we were so rudely interrupted,” Rose chimes in with a giggle and roll of her eyes.

“Shake on it, pinkie swear,” they say together in practiced unison, executing a complex handshake that ends with their pinkies hooked together and wide, matching grins on both their faces.

“Thanks Rose,” Emma whispers sincerely, trying to speak around the lump in her throat as if it’s no big deal. “I’ll be out here as soon as I can sneak away.”

Rose, for her part, wraps her taller, golden-haired friend into a tight, momentary hug. “Hey, we’re Secret Sisters! You can count on me.  I’ll see you then!”

They part ways at the edge of the forest; Emma heading to the rundown cabin that serves as her nightmarish version of a home, and Rose to the pristine Jones family mansion standing tall over all the surrounding land. Rose looks back over her shoulder with a smile and wave that bolsters Emma, and the memory fades back into the haze of the past…

Eighteen years later….

September 2011

The blaring of the horn as a sports car whizzed by, barely missing the nose of Emma’s beat-up yellow VW where it had begun to edge out into the country intersection, jarred her back to the present with a gasp and painful jolt to her chest. Panting for a moment as she gripped the steering wheel, Emma tried to clear her head and calm the pounding of her heart at the near-miss.

‘Get it together,’ she berated herself. It might have seemed like only yesterday as she remembered that sunny afternoon at the swimming hole, but that day had been nearly two decades ago. She was a grown woman, had made a way for herself, fighting tooth and nail for every step forward, and she answered to no one. She had learned to stand up for her rights and her needs, to control her visions and use them for good, and had even served a special consultant for the Boston PD. But, more than all of that, she had come back to this place to find peace, to lay to rest the ghosts that had followed her everywhere else she’d gone in the years between, once and for all. If she expected others to leave the past in the past, she would first have to manage to do the same.

She’d had no way to know as she and Rose parted that afternoon with promises and plans for later that it would be the last time she would ever see her friend. Emma had harbored the pain and the guilt and the unanswered questions ever since. Finally, it was time to meet the gazes of all of those who had stared at her in suspicion before she’d been packed up and moved away once more, and it was time she found answers. She wasn’t the scared, whipped, mistreated adolescent she had been at 13. What she had lived through then was not her fault, nor was what had happened to Rose that muggy July midnight. 

And if she had to return to Storybrooke, South Carolina to lay that burden down… well, it was long past time she did.

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

[haledamage]

put Nora (my Fernweh Saga MC) into the height difference site just for the sake of visuals and it's everything I hoped for

she is so leetle (5'3", to be exact)

I headcanon that she's the exact same height she was when she left Fernweh. And also that she has some clothes that were left at the Corvin house that definitely still fit her...

something something "not growing past your trauma" something something "everyone else grew up and moved on but you're the same as you ever were"

(some vaguely-related thoughts, under the cut)

deciding that Eleanor's super short was kind of what solidified James/Reese/Silas/Becca as her RO variations

because as much as I love Ruby being defensive on behalf of a short MC, Reese teasing her about her height was just so good. And then I had to pick James for the whole "you know you aren't actually the tallest person here, Reese 🙄" scene.

I've been torn between Silas and Sofia the most out of all of them, but after joining the patreon and seeing the portraits, Silas has won out on account of he's the most beautiful man I've ever seen ever 😳🥺

and then I chose Becca because A) I wanted at least one female RO dammit, and B) something about having all of Nora's Fernweh friends being men and the friend she met outside of town being a woman feels very poignant, especially with the way the townsfolk treat Becca like an outsider. It's also very true to my lived experience; most of my friends as a kid were boys, but most of the ones I've made as an adult are women. I don't know why that is, but here we are.

(I don't know that purple is Nora's color, I see her more as a light/neon blue (or like a dusky magenta?), but I didn't want her color to be too similar to Silas's, so I picked purple. Reese's color is more black than red, also, but I like a rainbow.)

anyway I just really, really want her to borrow a shirt or something from James or Silas because the visual is perfection

[if-mirrormine]

Will we get a chance to see Nora and Callie react to the fact that the mc is dating one of the ros in game?? Because I can only imagine the things they’d have to say at least about finding out the mc is finally dating Grayson or is dating Alex again (or, god forbid, their reaction to gralex) (I’d say Kennedy too but idk how well they really know her, so idk if they’d have any particularly strong reaction to that relationship)

definitely! i won't give away too much but their reactions to each would be something like this:

grayson: FINALLY !!

alex: alright

kennedy: good for them

gralex: oh...?

[rollercoasterwords]

What other fandoms do you think you’d write for? Or are you strictly an HP writer?

PS. Love ATWMD and THTF. Your writing is impeccable.

i’ve written a captive prince & succession fic as well so! & have also briefly written fics in some other fandoms when i was much younger which r now too embarrassing 2 name lmao

honestly not sure what other fandoms i’d write for it honestly just comes down 2 whether i’m gripped w an idea for certain characters…would love 2 escape hp fandom lol but i think part of why it’s sucked me in so bad is that i like fucking around w the holes in the canon universe…like most of the marauders fic i’ve written has been either canon compliant or canon divergent & me going “hmmm what would these characters do in this context” & now bc i’ve spent so much time thinking abt & writing them it’s just also becoming easy 2 plug these characters into aus 🤧

actually thinking abt my fic writing experience generally the thing that tends 2 make me wanna write fic is if there’s something abt canon that i wanna patch in…like my captive prince fic is just canon but from a different character’s pov & my succession fic is just “what if kenstewy were canon” lol. have thought abt writing aftg from andrew’s pov & the first book of the feverwake duology from dara’s pov simply bc that’s something i enjoyed doing w atyd & captive prince but never actually did…guess i could also see myself potentially writing spn fic if i came up w an idea i liked…& honestly i think if i ever reread trc i might go crazy for real & could then potentially decide 2 write fic who knows. but atp i feel like marauders fic has just become my comfort zone…it’s just a weird balance to strike where a story has to have characters i love but be unsatisfying (poorly written/queerbait/not actually queerbait but i’m delusional/would be fun 2 see from another character’s pov) enough that there r gaps i wanna fill. so like there r various stories/franchises/series i’ve loved where i’ve just never felt compelled at all 2 read or write fic bc i got everything i wanted out of the story etc!

[vampirkit]

HAPPY VALENTINES @inlocusmads

I am your secret admirer!! hehe

Nora x Trystan! THEY WERE SO FUN TO DRAW I ADOREE NORA'S EYE SCAR! and i hope you enjoy this (it was inspired by a post of yours), have a good day :))

for @choicesfandomappreciation valentines event

[nthflower]

I hate Nate fallout tbh like not the concept of male sole survivor but default Nate as sole survivor. He is just what? A soldier who loses his wife and baby how original.

A normal lawyer who loses her husband and baby and then turns into a terminator post apocalypse to find her baby is funnier.

Plus being a lawyer in the post apocalypse is more interesting than being a soldier post apocalypse.

Like a lawman in a lawless world, first trying to find her baby but then fights for the rights of people and against injustice. But this time not only in the courtroom but also with being a double agent and using her fists as her mind. Becoming a defender but in a different way.

Also I hate soldiers and I love women so I am super biased btw <3

[cangrellesteponme]

btw to anyone who cares about my thoughts on tsc getting a trilogy:

ngl i was fine with one book. i was fine with jerejean never getting anywhere near romantic territory. it was very emotionally satisfying.

BUT

give me more of jean i love being in jean's head i love him as a narrator it is so so awful and very very triggering but MAN even if i have to take breaks every 5 pages i do not CARE i will be reading books two and three promptly!!

[jedidragonwarriorqueen]

I. I just. Okay.

Wow.

I just . . . Geez Louise

[thesnowyprincess]

I cannot help myself but the Caucasian MC from Astrea's 💔 reminds me so much of Nora von Waldstätten, one of my favourite actresses 🫶

~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~

~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~

If you know the TV-serie Die Toten vom Bodensee, you're a real fan 👏

[lavinialeguin]

What if the entire Ever After Academy cast and story took place in a more Wolf Among Us Setting?

Whitethorn becomes a town in Connecticut filled with fairy tale characters who've escaped the magical realm after a great war that caused most of the realm to be destroyed by the fae who wished to take over the land for themselves.

The triad becomes the peacekeepers integrating the fables into the non-magical realm, giving them a temporary place to stay while war wages in the magical realm. The story starts with the funeral of FMC and MMC's uncle who is suspected to have been murdered by a fable, though they don't have enough proof to determine which fable did it. FMC takes it upon herself as the newly ascended Path Finder to find her uncle's murderer.

MMC works as the Light Keeper, keeping the lighthouse light on and being a welcoming presence to any new fables that come through the portals. His job is also to keep the Whitethorn trees alive and well to help keep the fae from finding them.

Arin still works as the Guardian, protecting the magic library, and labyrinth, and assisting FMC and MMC in helping stomp civil disputes between the fables living in Whitethorn.

Nora Le Fay is an ally of the triad, assisting with magical barriers and upkeep of the magical library. Nora is also the team's main healer, assisting in treating fables who are infected with hexes or curses from the fae. She currently acts as a librarian at the university library as her cover while assisting with the magical library and labyrinth underneath the school.

Lucas Charming is the heir to the Garnet Throne, his family sent him to Whitethorn in a show of trust to the White Queen, who is assisting them in keeping the fae at bay in their kingdom. Lucas works as a type of bodyguard for MMC as well as assisting in keeping more rowdy fables in line. Lucas works as a docent at the lighthouse, assisting with tours and showing fables around.

Abel is a brooding woodsman, tasked by the White Queen to tend to the Whitethorns, keeping the plans around Whitethorn alive. He's the most muscular of the group and acts as the team's tank fighter when in need, however, he's distrusting of most people and is rude when provoked, making him not as effective as an ally in the beginning.

Lavinia La Guin, the Snow Queen, travels to Whitethorn due to FMC's family promising to return her heart in exchange for help creating stronger barriers to keep the Fae away, as the Winter Kingdom is currently untouched by the Fae due to the Snow Queen's intense protective spells around her kingdom. However, with the death of the previous Pathfinder, FMC is left to strike a new deal to get the witch's help in finding her Uncle's killer. Lavinia resides as the owner and bartender of an Ice Bar in Whitethorn, a common hangout for some of the less moral fables.

Jack Frost is Lavinia's younger half-brother, another child of Titania, Jack assists Lavinia in keeping their kingdom safe. He communicates between the two realms using a communication stone.

Ezra Wolf works as a bouncer at the Ice Bar Lavinia owns. He is a gruff and well-respected security presence at the bar as well as a great keeper in intel due to his ability to sink into the shadows.

More to come, but just the first bunch of ideas.

[ereborne]

Song of the Day: May 1

"Wicked Old Witch" by John Fogerty

[snowbellewells]

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

[haledamage]

Nora Gray - playlist

Eleanor's playlist already has 22 songs on it, so it's probably time to share it 😁 Nora is, as always, my MC from Fernweh Saga by @lacunafiction 💖

track list (plus lyrics) under the cut:

Southern Comfort - Larkin Poe [Roadtrip] Blacktop, down in the ditches / Hitching a ride back to where I'm from / Catching secondhand smoke or a greyhound bus / Pretty or not, baby, here I come / I had high hopes, it was all downhill / Life flying by, like I was standing still / I’m a little nobody from the middle of nowhere / Gotta get home, I know I will

In The Woods Somewhere - Hozier [???] I clutched my life / And wished it kept / My dearest love, I'm not done yet / How many years / I know I'll bear / I found something in the woods somewhere

Trouble Finds You - Juliet Simms [???] Tonight darkness finds you / Right behind you / Say your prayers / Tonight trouble finds you / It's inside you / Say your prayers tonight

California King - Larkin Poe [???] I've got a funny feelin' / Somethin' that I missed or misread / My feet are on the ceilin' / Runnin', but I can't get ahead / I've got a funny feelin' / Honey, is it all in my head?

Take The Journey - Molly Tuttle [Fernweh] Skies are falling all around you / Who will protect you from your deepest fears? / Take the hand of the one besides you / Let the fire guide you 'til the path is clear / Take the journey / No matter where it starts or where it ends / Take the journey / Someday you'll make it back home again

Round Here - Counting Crows [Fernweh] 'Round here, we're carving out our names / 'Round here, we all look the same / 'Round here, we talk just like lions / But we sacrifice like lambs / 'Round here, she's slipping through my hands

Hard Learned - Tyler Bryant & the Shakedown [Nora] And all I know has been / Hard learned / The scars I wear, you can best believe I earned / Hard learned / Say a prayer for me cause the devil don't seem concerned

Dead Weight - PVRIS [Nora] If I start cracking at the center, all this goes away / I'm staying numb to my feelings, dodge 'em like novocaine / My back is breaking from taking all of this dead weight / All give, no take / Do you even notice / How easy you got this? / Taking wings off a goddess / If I'm being honest

everything i wanted - Billie Eilish [Nora] I tried to scream / But my head was underwater / They called me weak / Like I'm not just somebody's daughter / It could've been a nightmare / But it felt like they were right there / And it feels like yesterday was a year ago / But I don't wanna let anybody know / 'Cause everybody wants something from me now / And I don't wanna let 'em down

Somewhere Only We Know - Keane [Nora] I came across a fallen tree / I felt the branches of it looking at me / Is this the place we used to love? / Is this the place that I've been dreaming of?

You and I - PVRIS [🤍 - General Romance] I know it's warmer where you are / And it's safer by your side / But right now I can't be what you want / Just give it time / And if you and I / Can make it through the night / And if you and I / Can keep our love alive, we'll fight

Crash and Burn - Savage Garden [🤍 - General Romance] I know you feel like the walls are closing in on you / It's hard to find relief and people can be so cold / When darkness is upon your door / And you feel like you can't take anymore / Let me be the one you call

Break In - Halestorm ft. Amy Lee [🧡 - Becca] You are the only one / The only one that sees me / Trusts me and believes me / You are the only one / The only one that knows me / And in the dark you show me / Yeah, it's perfectly reckless / Damn, you leave me defenseless / So break in

Dressed In Black - Sia [🧡 - Becca] I thought life passed me by / Missed my tears, ignored my cries / Life had broken my heart, my spirit / And then you crossed my path / You quelled my fears, you made me laugh / Then you covered my heart in kisses

As It Was - Hozier [💙 - Silas] There is a roadway, muddy and foxgloved / Never I'd had life enough / My heart is screaming out / And in a few days I would be there, love / Whatever here that's left of me is yours just as it was / Just as it was, baby / Before the otherness came / And I knew its name / The love, the dark, the light, the flame

I Should Go - Levi Kreis [💙 - Silas] And your company was just the thing I needed tonight / Somehow I feel I should apologize / Cuz I'm just a little shaken / By what's going on inside / I should go / Before my will gets any weaker / And my eyes begin to linger / Longer than they should / I should go / Before I lose my sense of reason / And this hour holds more meaning / Than it ever could

Broken - Seether ft. Amy Lee [💚 - James] I keep your photograph, and I know it serves me well / I want to hold you high and steal your pain / 'Cause I'm broken when I'm lonesome / And I don't feel right when you've gone away / You've gone away / You don't feel me here anymore

This Town - Niall Horan [💚 - James] And I want to tell you everything / The words I never got to say the first time around / And I remember everything / From when we were the children playing in this fairground / Wish I was there with you now

Move Like U Stole It - ZZ Ward [🖤 - Reese] Whoa, the world ain't ending, but it might as well be / Whoa, I'll rock you like the sea / Buildings ain't crumblin', but they might as well be / Whoa, so let's not think and just / Move like you stole it / Make your move on me

If You’re Gone - Matchbox Twenty [🖤 - Reese] I bet you're hard to get over / I bet the room just won't shine / I bet my hands I can stay here / And I bet you need more than you mind / And I think you're so mean, I think we should try / I think I could need, this in my life / I think I'm just scared that I know too much / I can't relate and that's a problem I'm feelin' / If you're gone

Power Over Me - Dermot Kennedy [💜 - Reese/James] So we hide away and never tell / You decide if darkness knows you well / That lesson of love, all that it was / I need you to see / You've got that power over me, my my / Everything I hold dear resides in those eyes

Here Is Gone - Goo Goo Dolls [💜 - Reese/James] And I want to get free / Talk to me / I can feel you falling / And I wanted to be / All you need / Somehow here is gone / And I don't need the fallout / Of all the past that's in between us