#from most people trapped here who tend to cozy up with her much easier than Cyrus. Kind of insane to me that he trusts Cyrus-

[fullstop-roleplays]

The laughing confuses and slightly upsets him. What's funny about this, about it's situation? It's dealing with a force or presence they have no information on, one that had the ability to spontaneously remove all of his colleagues from the building!? They could be in danger! He could be in danger! The world reset when he thought he'd foiled their plans so clearly he did something wrong, but what? Was there some sort of failsafe? Did they know what he did? Was something coming for him?

He's not sure how he feels about the Author. She seems unpredictable, and Rodney finds that that scares him. He understands how the Narrator seems to work. He's (probably) here to help Rodney, and even if he isn't giving correct instruction he at least seems to not be hostile. He's firm about their objective and seems to care about it's completion a great deal. But why is she here? The Narrator narrates, so what is she writing? What is her goal?

"Oooooh, he took a wrench, haha! I wonder what he's going to use that for. Maybe to put a wrench in your plans-"

Wait, what!? He looks up at the ceiling in slight alarm, though he doesn't stop walking. What plans? The voices cut before he can hear anything else but what did she mean by that? What plans does the Narrator have? Why would Rodney need to oppose them?

The voice- the Narrator's voice- comes back, acknowledging him taking the wrench, and he finds himself calm a little, nodding. The Narrator is occasionally incorrect about his thoughts or motivations, but he's absolutely correct about this one. The thought of finding someone else here both excites and scares him; he's desperate to get his- his acquaintances back, but what if it isn't an ally? What if he comes across something malicious? He's not sure how much a wrench would really do, but with his new, strange resolve he resolves to go down fighting.

Or perhaps he'll just flee. Whichever seems less fatal.

Rodney marches up the stairs (no hands this time,) and shifts the wrench in his back pocket to attempt to hide it more, in response to the Narrator's comment. If his boss does make an appearance this time round, he'd rather avoid a confrontation.

...Which is a little at odds with the way he cinematically throws open the office doors, but sue him, he's allowed a bit of flair to boost his confidence. The bout of paranoia after the broom closet has him antsy. He just wants to be over and done with the tedious bits and get to the control room to see if anything's changed, or if he can actually figure out a solution now.

Rodney just barely keeps from flinching at the sudden hardness in the narrator’s tone, not having expected such a harsh reaction. Nor did they expect the sudden giggling that had started up, and this time they do flinch. He’d almost entirely forgotten the Author was also here. What a strange title, that. What could she be writing?

During his musing, Rodney had been perusing- oh, that rhymes- the broom closet shelves. Some pliers on the top shelf, a few wrenches (well- one wrench and two vaguely wrench-shaped objects,) something that looks sort of like a hollow orange tape-measure, and lots and lots of duct tape.

He takes a step closer to look at the bottom shelf (A coil of rope and some kind of large metal tool. It looks quite heavy in fact, and difficult to lift-) but freezes once the narrator’s voice rings out. His slight irritation at not recognizing half of the objects here dissipates, but his eyes are still creased into a frown.

Back to the boss’s office? But that clearly hadn’t… Why? He thought the machine had malfunctioned, or otherwise noticed his presence somehow, but then why was he not sent to… Wherever his coworkers are right now? Had he messed up? But he’d done everything the narrator had instructed him to do, so how-

Oh.

If he’d messed up and was sent back, and the narrator is still asking he do the same thing…

He isn’t sure what conclusion to come to, with all this information, but it plays on his mind all the same. Is he being lied to? That makes no sense. What possible reason could the narrator have for not simply disposing of him, if that were the case, if he’s somehow the mastermind behind his coworkers’ disappearances, or on their side. Why not send him there with them? Why separate him? Why keep him?

Rodney looks hesitantly at the ceiling, almost as if checking for permission, before slipping the wrench into his pocket. He then gives himself a nod of reassurance, and walks briskly- albeit a little uncertainly- out of the broom closet door.

He feels a strange sense of resolve within him. Resolve to do what? No idea. But he’s no less determined to do…er- It. Whatever It is.

[snowbellewells]

“Run to Me (in the Dead of Night)”

Well, folks, here we are at last - the final installment of my CSSNS MC.  I can’t believe it’s really over (or that it has carried all the way into the new year.) But I have had a lot of fun exploring the world of this werewolf AU, and I am so thankful for everyone who read and encouraged me along the way as I wrote.  I am sorry I kept you waiting for the loose ends to be tied up and the happy ending achieved, but I hope you will enjoy this last segment.  I may check back in with these versions of the characters and this verse with a shorter look into the future if there is a second CSSNS. (After all, I did leave a small hint or two for things that might yet be brewing in the plot!) But for now, here we are at the finish line complete.

***Thank you once again to @wingedlioness for the gorgeous story banner she made for this piece that I have been using throughout.  Enjoy the final story pic she made for this as well. It’s just a fun little fluffy glimpse at a part of their happily-ever-after! :)

epilogue ~ moments in the moonlight

A few days after Emma and Killian’s successful deal with the Dark One, a hesitant sort of waiting peace had fallen over Storybrooke as life seemed to return to its version of normal. Gold had made no noticeable moves to break his word, and though none of those who had fought for a sense of safety against he, Cora, and Regina were going to quit watching him closely, the intensely charged atmosphere of the previous weeks and the sense of constantly awaiting the next calamity or attack, had begun to subside. Henry and Snow, both as student and teacher, had returned to their regular school routine. Emma and Graham had gone back to regular shifts at the station handling once-more mundane complaints of dwarf squabbles, Mr. and Mrs. Sprat’s domestic disturbances in the grocery aisles, and Widow Shue’s numerous kids making too much noise in the backyard and bothering the neighbors. Killian seemed to be settling into town as well, planning to make it a more long-term home. When not with Emma and Henry, or out and about with David and Graham, both of whom were becoming the closest friends he’d had since the loss of his brother, the pirate puttered around on his ship, either cleaning or seeing that it was airtight and warm enough to remain habitable in the fast-approaching winter months.

Tucked away in her cozy office in the very back corner of the library however, one evening just a few days before Thanksgiving, Belle French fought to keep recent events and the distressing tangle of emotion knotting her gut from overrunning her mind. It was easier, admittedly, now that she wasn’t alone. Graham had stopped in after he was done at the sheriff’s station for the day, Granny’s takeout in hand for their dinner, and they had just finished eating in warm companionship, both of them more than anything grateful to no longer be eating alone, to have the other’s presence beside them to dispel the regrets and doubts whispering in their minds.

When at last she looked up to gaze full in his focused, understanding face, already looking back at her and seeming to read behind her attempt at a casual smile and false normalcy, Belle found herself catching her breath at the zing of warmth and electricity that went skittering through her. Tossing the napkin she had already crumpled into the paper bag on the table between them, she reached for the sheriff’s large, calloused hand, already held out open and waiting for her on the wooden tabletop. She couldn’t have imagined before this just how much comfort there was in simply being known - truly known, accepted, and understood intrinsically by someone else. She had come to feel nearly invisible with Rumple quite quickly upon regaining her sense of self (and more memories of the Enchanted Forest). There had been good moment long ago, but in truth she had been more of a shadow of the brave adventuress she’d always hoped. Yes, Rumple had needed her, but as an extension of himself, to keep him behaving as the good person he should have already been.  Graham needed her too, but in the way any person would need someone they cared for; moreover, it was the same way that she needed him as well.

There was no judgement or impatience on Graham’s face, only concern and a desire to help as his thumb rubbed soothingly over the back of her hand. “What is it, Belle?” he asked, voice low and calming in the dim light of her single desk lamp in the silent echoes of the library closed for the day. “Something is clearly bothering you… Maybe it would help to share it?”

Belle squeezed the hand that held her own reassuringly, before wrapping her free hand around their interwoven fingers, wanting to hold onto him that much more for his compassion and his intuition, traits she knew had made her initial gratitude and attraction to him swell into all that she felt for him now. It wasn’t that she couldn’t share her worry with him, she thought as she shook her head in agitation, it was that she didn’t quite know how to try. Finally, she bit her lip and then, with a released whoosh of breath, she plowed ahead impulsively, “It’s just that...well...I don’t really feel relieved. You know? I mean, I assumed that if we were able to stop Rumple - and Emma and Killian forcing his hand into that deal seems to have worked, at least for the time being - then I would feel more at ease, like I could safely move on. But I don’t feel any better about it… more sort of hollow...and anxious too, like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

Graham scooted his chair closer, obviously trying to offer a shoulder if she needed it; despite her having noticed that in most situations he didn’t tend to get overly close in proximity to other people unless absolutely necessary. “If you’re worried that we’ve dropped our guard, we haven’t. Everyone knows Gold is quite possibly only safe until he finds a way out of the deal he struck-”

But she interrupted him, shaking her head and turning away from his searching, deep eyes that she felt could look right into and read her very soul if she let him. “No, it’s not that. Well, there is the worry that he’ll find a loophole and attack us the first chance he gets, but it’s more that I can’t believe I was ever foolish enough to think he would change, that he could be different. So much wasted time, so much of my own life lost for a cause that was always hopeless.”

Graham’s fingers were tender, barely brushing over her skin as he ever-so-softly touched her chin to move her face back to his. “Please don’t say that,” he husked, his voice raspy with strangled emotion as he continued. “Your faith in others, your hope, your belief that we can overcome and change, that we do control our own fates… I… I love that about you.”

Her breath caught at his admission, long lashes blinking rapidly as she met his eyes now, transfixed and unable to look away.

“Don’t let him take that from you,” Graham finished breathlessly, his chest heaving as if he had just run for miles, and a surprising red flush climbing up his neck before his eyes dropped to the wood of the desk between them and then finishing with a murmured, “I couldn’t bear it.”

It took Belle a minute to get her wits about her, her thoughts pinging and racing in every direction at once and her heart beating as though it might pump right out of her chest, but she felt the sheriff beside her tensed to move, as if embarrassed to have said too much and preparing himself to withdraw. Quickly, she gripped his hand a little tighter, until he looked back into her face.

“You...you love me?” she whispered, not at all certain she could believe her ears.

Graham wordlessly nodded at that without saying anything more aloud. She could read his expression just then, as much as she had ever felt that he could read hers. She had been beating herself up for her own mistakes, both in the past and the present, fearing that her failures would always be laid out before her, but she could see in that weighted moment that her werewolf boyfriend carried all the same self-doubt and fear. He wasn’t sure that what had happened to him, what he had been made into and forced to do, would ever be fully behind him, or if anyone could look at him without seeing the damage, and yet despite it all, he was reaching out to her.

Belle didn’t know if it was right or if it was wrong, too much or too fast, but in that moment, with the flood of emotion he’d brought forth in her, she couldn’t hold back. Leaning forward over their joined hands, she pressed her mouth to his, savoring the soft feel of his lips in a first kiss full of the hope he had just reignited within her, and everything else she felt for him besides.

When Graham opened for her, drinking her in with a low hum of pleasure and kissing back, it was so enthusiastic that before she knew it, he was pulling her toward him over the table until she was curled, giggling in his lap, sheltered by his warm embrace as he peppered more kisses to her hair, cheeks, and forehead. They might both still be broken, but together they were going to mend the jagged edges.

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

High on the hill overlooking Storybrooke, later that same night, Emma and Killian sat on the hood of her VW Bug, alternately stargazing and making out like the two carefree teenagers neither of them had ever really gotten the chance to be. Emma was just pondering the fact, when the idea of her deputy father on duty tonight catching them up here, flashing lights and stern expression and all the trappings he would have certainly pulled out if he’d actually been able to parent her when she was sixteen, seventeen, lost and living on the wild side. A chuckle escaped her at the both preposterous and yet utterly plausible mental image, causing Killian to pull back with an affronted look as she buried her head in his shoulder, her own shaking with silent mirth.

“And just what is so funny?” he questioned. “A man could begin to doubt himself when his lady love begins to laugh instead of melt at his romantic overtures.”

“Easy there, Wolf Man,” she soothed, trailing her hand along his open collar and into the exposed hair of his chest with idly stroking fingers, both their heart rates picking up at the gesture. “No need to get your hackles up. You’re doing just fine, trust me.”

A teasing grin quirked her delectable lips as she stared up at him, offering a seductive wink for good measure, even as she decided for herself that though she would definitely tell him later what had made her laugh and let him gain a chuckle from it as well, it wasn’t the time just then, nor did she want the heavy chemistry rippling between them broken with humor.

Killian, for his part, saw her green eyes darken from sparkling jade to forest deepness with want and was more than happy to let the matter drop for the present. All sensible thought fled him at that moment anyway, as Emma’s hand crawled up his neck to scratch behind his ear, making it all he could do not to whine in the back of his throat like a mere pup begging a treat from its owner. Emma did own him, body and soul, in all the ways that mattered. Killian saw no purpose or sense in denying it.

However, once he managed to gather a few threads of coherent thought, he leaned forward to growl warningly against her skin, not quite willing to let her win the upper hand so easily. “You’re playing with fire, Emma...as you well know. Toying with me that way wakes the beast within…”

She shivered at the husky intonation of his words, his meaning all too clear. In truth, she couldn’t help thinking that might be just what she was after; she was only too eager to let him devour her with tooth, tongue, and claw. Still, there had been a reason they’d chosen this particular spot for the evening, and the time was fast approaching. The full moon above was nearly at its peak.

Seeming to recall himself just as Emma did, Killian pulled back from her slightly, his forehead resting against hers as they both tried to catch their breath. Finally, with a quick kiss to the tip of her nose, he slid off the hood of the car and stood, looking back at her with hope and uncertainty warring in his eyes. “Swan, in all seriousness, are you sure about wanting to wait for me? It could get quite chilly up here tonight.

Emma could only nod her head at him at first, wondering how he still didn’t quite see his own worth in her eyes, how intensely she wanted to be with him every moment she could. “Yes, Jones, I’m sure,” she said at last, with some exasperation, not failing to notice the affection and joy that flooded his face with her confirmation. “It’s only a few hours, right?  Go - have your run. Maybe it’s the loosed beast I’m anxious to see when you get back.”

Killian visibly swallowed hard at her last words, but then a devilish gleam entered those mesmerizing eyes of his, and she could see his tongue poke into the corner of his mouth as he replied with a promise that set the blood in her veins on fire. “Have it your way, Love. I can say with some certainty that he’ll be salivating to see you too by the time I return.”

With that, he divested himself of his shirt, pulling it up over his head and baring his scarred and heavily furred chest as well as the ripple of stomach muscles that accompanied the action. Emma’s mouth went dry at the sight, even as she reached out her hand dumbly to take the shirt from him, along with the pants, socks, and boxers that followed. Looking up at her once more with a smirk, knowing that she was staring at his nude form as she clutched the discarded clothing to her chest, Killian then jogged into the treeline and was gone.

A few minutes later, Emma heard the singular, haunting and powerful howl of a wolf from well within the forest and knew that his transformation was complete. It had taken Killian a huge amount of trust to bring her here and let her into as much of the process as he dared, still not completely willing to shift into lupine form right in front of her; knowing that for a brief amount of time, just when the change was complete, he was purely a wild animal. Though he could swiftly regain control of his mind, he refused to risk even the slightest chance that he might hurt or frighten her in that minute lapse of time.

He had told her that he could actually hold the transformation off completely, but she sensed within his statement that it wasn’t a pleasant option, and when pressed, Killian had admitted that it was distressing - like an itch under the skin that couldn’t be scratched - if not downright painful, when one continued to fight nature. He didn’t know if it could do permanent damage, but Emma hadn’t wanted him to test the theory anyway. Yes, Henry was with her father tonight - out on a camping trip with him, Graham, his friend Nicholas, and Nick’s father, but she could wait a few hours. Plus, if she were honest, she was more than a bit curious, and not in the least turned off. So there she was, waiting for her love’s return.

It really was almost more than a cynic like her could believe, all that had happened in the last few months. At Thanksgiving this year, she had more to be grateful for than she could have fathomed possible not so long ago. She had the son she had lost - that she’d broken her own heart to give up for his best chance - back in her life, she had parents who loved her and had always wanted her, she had found love with a man she knew was devoted and true, she had genuine friends in Graham, Ruby, Belle, and many more of the quirky inhabitants of their little hamlet, and she had a job she enjoyed, that she was respected for doing well. Most of all, the lost girl who had still been hiding beneath her armour, had finally found her home.

Musing on all of that, Emma also had to concede that of course life still wasn’t perfect. There might yet be dark magic and curses that could come their way, along with everyday human heartache and trial, and of course she wasn’t going to turn her back on Mr. Gold, deal or not, but things were as near perfection as she had ever known. She felt stronger in belonging to a place and to these people than she had ever been before all alone.

A rustling of dried leaves and underbrush alerted her to turn back to the forest just in time to see a familiar dark black wolf emerge from the trees, its startling blue eyes intense and knowing, even in the face of a different being. The majestic animal lifted its snout slightly, as if catching her scent on the wind and savoring it before gazing back at her and taking another step forward.  Speechless, Emma could have sworn the animal licked its chops before pacing toward her. Then, as suddenly as he had appeared, he seemed to stretch and rearrange before her very eyes. She blinked disbelievingly, even though she had known it was him and what he was capable of, and when she looked again, it was Killian stalking toward her purposefully, nearly knocking her off her feet as he reached her and swept her up in a breathless, hungry kiss.

Tagging a few who may enjoy... @cssns @kmomof4 @laschatzi @jennjenn615 @therooksshiningknight @aloha-4-ever @spartanguard @searchingwardrobes @hollyethecurious @linda8084 @branlovestowrite @winterbaby89 @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @resident-of-storybrooke @kday426 @quicksilvermad @capswantrue @kiwistreetswan @bubblegum1425 @ultraluckycatnd  @gingerchangeling @bmbbcs4ever @thislassishooked