#kathryn nolan au | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

teamhook · 5 years ago

Text

A Chapter a Day... Savage Heart CS AU

Yes, a chapter a day.

This story will be finished by the end of the month. :)

A love story between a pirate and his savior. An innocent, beautiful, selfless woman meets a man with no manners, no formal education and not even a last name. Will Emma fall in love with Killian once she discovers that beneath his tough exterior lies a heart-wild, but a heart of gold? This is a Captain Swan AU

Beta-ed by the lovely @ilovemesomekillianjones

|AO3| |FFN| previous chapter

|AO3| |FFN| current chapter

Chapter 5: Catch and Release

Flashback - The Road of Redemption

Once the betrothal is arranged, David Nolan decides he must leave his family in order to seek out a way to rebuild his own fortune. If he's able to, he won't have to see his daughter entered into an arranged marriage. As a young man, he had been betrothed to Kathryn Midas. His father George thought that it was the best match for the family.

He had hoped to never put Emma in that position. He had gotten lucky because Kathryn had fallen in love with Frederick Knight, a business partner of her father, and she married him instead.

David had met Snow not long after, and he is forever grateful to have had the fortune of meeting his true love and marrying her. Snow tries to stop him, but he refuses to stay. He wants his daughter to marry for love not to save them. He still has time.

Torn, David Nolan travels north. He has been hearing an awful lot about a booming port town called Arendelle. David Nolan soon arrives at Arendelle in search of a chance to redeem his family's good name. All he wants is to be a hero for his daughter, his family. There is one benefit of traveling so far, James' reputation didn't follow him.

The climate there is so different from Misthaven. It's cold and somber, there's no color. Or maybe, it isn't the town at all.

He misses his family, his beloved wife, and precious daughter. Milah too, Even without knowing her that well he misses the opportunity to be there. His desire was never to take his brother's place, but to enrich her life.

He soon makes friends with a kind woman named Ingrid Foster. He only approaches the woman at the market when one of her daughters runs straight into him. The girl reminds him so much of his little duckling, his sweet Emma.

Goodness, he is so homesick. He misses his love and his little girl. She is blonde too like his princess but a little more platinum than golden, with blue eyes. He hears a woman say the young girl's name, Elsa.

Elsa is chasing her younger sister Anna. Anna is a little bundle of strawberry red hair and blue eyes with an energy that never seems to end. Young Anna can talk for what seems like hours without taking a breath.

Ingrid apologizes profusely for the two young girls, but David just smiles softly. He then finds out that the lovely young girls are actually her nieces. That reminds him of Milah. He regrets not spending more time getting to know her better before leaving Misthaven.

Ingrid and David bond over tales of family and lost loved ones. He mentions the loss of his brother, and she talks about her sister and brother-in-law's passing.

Ingrid had never found love herself but gladly accepted the responsibility of care provider to both girls when their parents had perished. That is how she became Anna and Elsa Frost's appointed guardian. She has been raising the girls alone for the last two years. Anna is 9 years old and Elsa is a year older, like his Emma.

His longing for his family isn't as bad when he is around the young girls. His Emma would love Elsa and Anna. Someday he will be able to introduce them in person. In his letters, he tells her stories of both young girls and their antics.

Ingrid introduces him to some amazing connections and not long after his arrival, he has started a small trading business. David never knew he had such a knack for this type of business.

He imports anything from silver and silk to spices. Exporting goods include honey, wheat, wool, and various types of furs.

He is truly happy with the success of the small business. Sadly though, the business is growing and prospering a little too slow for his taste. He wants to go home. He sends letters and money to Snow with Archie Hopper's help. He lives very modestly and has no need for any luxury. No sacrifice will ever be too considerable if it meant his little girl's happy ending.

Arendelle Present

David Nolan has slowly amassed enough money to live comfortably. Would that be enough? He knows Emma and Snow have never desired riches.

Milah, on the other hand, has taken to the privileged lifestyle quite well. She enjoys luxury and craves more. Whatever he sends, it's never enough. That thought breaks his heart.

Throughout the years, each time he had sent money to Snow he would ask Archie if it had been enough for their needs. Archie would simply say, "Snow and the girls are fine." Then in the space of seconds, he would always add some sort of remark about Milah wanting to go on a trip or a new wardrobe. His niece's thirst for riches was unquenchable, and Snow always gave in, the money was eventually spent on something for Milah.

Sometimes it was for trips and others for jewelry or whatever she must have. Archie keeps telling David that even his guidance is not enough to deter Snow from granting Milah all she desires. Snow and Emma are extremely sensible when it comes to their expenses. However, the guilt Snow feels because of Milah's lack of a happy childhood leads her to just about squander the little bit of extra money he was able to provide them with.

His friendship with Ingrid has endured through the years. He happily takes the role of Uncle to both girls.

Anna has found love at the young age of seventeen, his name is Kristoff and he genuinely adores Anna. He seems a little eccentric but it's clear that he is an honorable young man. Soon they will marry. That is the kind of relationship David so desperately wants for Emma.

David and Kristoff bond soon after their introduction and David even offers Kristoff a job at Nolan Importing & Exporting.

The threat of the business becoming a target for pirates indicates the success he has accomplished. There have been rumors of a pirate captain from Misthaven making a move towards David's company.

That is how David crosses paths with a dashing Navy Captain by the name of Liam Long. Liam has an impressive reputation at a young age. He has been successful in his counter attacks towards all acts of piracy so far. David befriends the young man and introduces him to his adoptive family.

The young Captain takes to Elsa quite rapidly. Elsa, on the other hand, is a little more closed off, but it's obvious the attraction is not one-sided. Elsa and Liam start by being friends and are slowly moving towards more.

Soon enough, all these lives, near and far, will be intertwined.

~~~~~

KPOV:

In a dark corner of the local Arendelle tavern, Killian is deep in conversation with some of his associates. His eagerness to conclude the transaction has blinded him to see the officers arrive. To be honest he had stopped paying attention to any sort of officials long ago. He was so used to the corrupt Misthaven legal system that would gladly look away in exchange for a small contribution.

He's finally wrapping up the once in a lifetime endeavor and soon will be able to return to his love. Suddenly chaos broke loose, and it becomes apparent that Killian Jones has become overconfident in his excitement to get back to Misthaven. There is an eruption of swords clashing, chairs breaking, and even some cloth ripping. The yelps of the injured are heard throughout the room as swords pierce skin.

The aftermath is bloody and devastating. There are losses on all sides. The dead pirates, civilians, and military are scattered on the floor. In death, nothing differentiates the men.

This is how Killian Jones finds himself rotting away inside the Arendelle prison. He was so close to returning to his love. He no longer feels the need to pillage and plunder. The infamous scoundrel had finally given his heart away.

He had found an odd familiarity to the arresting officer, and had asked one of the guards for the officer's name. The answer was a simple Captain Liam Long. He had felt a connection to the man and for some reason, he had thought of his mother.

He had been so young when his mother died, and the memories, although faint, had stayed with him. To satisfy his need for the connection and trying to never lose her completely, a total stranger had made him pause and now he was rotting away.

He should have killed the Captain when the opportunity had presented. His death would have easily guaranteed the escape of what was left of his crew on his beloved ship and he would now be back in Misthaven.

Killian comes to the realization that love only makes you weak. He had fallen in love, and now he is in a prison far away from where his heart longs to be. Weakness or not, he will find his way home, to Milah.

~~~Liam's POV:

Captain Liam Long was the pride of the Arendelle Navy. He had come from a modest upbringing. He was sent away for his best chance by his parents. He had been almost six years old when he had arrived at his Aunt Annie's house.

She had always talked so fondly of his father, John. She barely mentioned his mother. Every time he would ask if he could send a letter home she would simply say, "Sorry Liam, but your mother is very ill and she will not be able to respond."

Then not so long after his arrival, his aunt told him his mother had died. That is something a child doesn't forget, no matter how young. His father would send letters for years until he also succumbed to death.

Liam had grown up to be an exceptional young man. He was seventeen years old when he joined the Arendelle Navy. Pure dedication drove him to rise in the ranks and became Captain at 28 years old.

Now Liam and his men find themselves walking into a seedy tavern on a tip. Quickly surveying the scene and coming to the conclusion there is, in fact, a big deal closing gives them the reasonable cause they need. Liam acts fast and gives his orders, detain everyone, dead or alive.

Soon he comes face to face with a man that he feels an instant camaraderie with, it makes no sense to him. The man is a pirate; he stands for everything that is bad form. The battle is quick, and Liam gets the upper hand, he captures the notorious Captain Killian Jones.

When Liam visits his Aunt, he tells her of his latest capture. The look on her face when she hears the name Killian Jones gives Liam pause. "Why did the mere mention of that name make you white as a fresh sail? Who is he?" He asks over and over to no answer.

Finally, she gets up and reaches in the cupboard in her small kitchen. She pulls out an old letter and hands it to him. Liam takes a breath when he recognizes the handwriting, his father's.

He slowly starts reading it, and the name Killian Jones takes a new meaning for him. He has a brother. Now he remembers his mother's maiden name, Jones.

"Why are you giving me this letter now? Growing up you never once mentioned Killian to me, ever. Father didn't either in any of his letters until this his last letter. I could have gone to Misthaven to look for him! He grew up to become a pirate. He had no one!"

"I only followed my brother's instructions. He wanted you to forget about Killian. You were young enough that the memory would eventually fade," Annie sobs.

"Yet, somehow I find myself holding a letter that was meant for me to have read after his death. The telling of a sordid tale. He is still my brother and you kept it from me, why? Oh yes, I read that too. My mother made a mistake and Killian was born from it. For someone that has always told me how important doing the right thing is and to be kind to the less fortunate, you sure did not follow your own teachings."

Annie simply answered, "My brother, while on his deathbed, grew a conscience. What are you going to do?"

Liam smiled and answered, "Be an older brother and release him. My record is impeccable; I will get away with a slap on the wrist." Liam leaves his Aunt's house and heads to the prison while still holding the letter. Once he arrives, he tells the guards he needs a word with the prisoner.

Liam is guided to the well-known cells, and when he finally reaches Killian's, for the first time since they had been separated, he looks into the eyes of his younger brother.

Liam asks the guard for a bit of privacy.

"Captain Jones, I remember hearing you mention to your associates there was a very specific reason for your urgent return to Misthaven. What was that reason?"

Killian looks at the Captain who captured him, and for some reason, he knows this man will appreciate a story of love.

"I was heading back to my betrothed. I am to marry once I return. I will be leaving this life to become an honorable man." Killian answers honestly as he has nothing left to lose.

"I will personally escort you to your ship so you can make the trip. Better late than never. Before I let you go I would like for you to read this letter."

Killian looks at Liam suspiciously before agreeing. Taking the letter to the most lit section of the cell he begins reading.

Killian cannot believe what he's reading. He has a brother, and finally knows the reason why his father, no, his stepfather hated him, though the identity of his real father is not revealed in the letter.

Not long after the cell door is opened, he is quickly engulfed in a hug from his brother. He returns the hug awkwardly.

Liam explains to the guard how everything was a setup and that Killian, in reality, was the victim of foul play. It doesn't take a long time for the guard to finally agree to let Liam leave the prison with Killian in tow. His excellent military record is the reason why his explanation is not doubted.

Once back on the deck of his ship, Killian thanks his brother Liam and sets sail. Soon he will be with his love.

Tagging:

@hookedonapirate @kmomof4 @searchingwardrobes @seriouslyhooked @profdanglaisstuff @let-it-raines @revanmeetra87 @snowbellewells @hollyethecurious @kymbersmith-90 @branlovestowrite @thejollyroger-writer @shireness-says @ilovemesomekillianjones @thisonesatellite @thesschesthair @winterbythesea @stahlop @resident-of-storybrooke @superchocovian @lfh1226-linda @artistic-writer @thislassishooked @shardminds @winterbaby89 @xhookswenchx @ultraluckycatnd @gingerchangeling @laschatzi @wellhellotragic @xemmaloveskillianx @courtorderedcake @pirateherokillian @optomisticgirl @darkcolinodonorgasm @sherlockianwhovian @andiirivera @djlbg @nikkiemms @jennjenn615 @scientificapricot @officerrogers

#Captain Swan #cs ff #CS Crew #CS Mafia #teamhook SavageHeart

17 notes · View notes

onceuponanothertime-rp · 5 years ago

Text

Since Kathryn Nolan has disappeared and won’t be seen for a few weeks, we are putting Kathryn on a hiatus until she comes back at the end of The Stable Boy (1x18). Depending on the theme of future AU weekends, it’s possible for her to come back and partake in those festivities, but Kathryn will not be posting in canon until she is found.

If any of our members need to request a hiatus in the future, please reach out to us and we will gladly help you out.

#kathryn nolan #hiatus requests #mod casey

2 notes · View notes

darkpoisonouslove · 6 years ago

Note

N, P, S and X for the ask game :D?

N - Name three things you wish you saw more or in your main fandom (or a fandom of choice)

I’m gonna do this for the OUAT fandom since I’m most active there

1. I’d love to see more comments on fics since I know how important that is for keeping the writer behind the story motivated. Now, I write myself and tbh my OUAT fics get a lot less reviews than the fics I write for some of my other fandoms. And it’s not just me. A lot of other writers (granted, not only in the OUAT fandom since that’s more of a universal problem across all the fandoms) are discouraged by the few comments and reblogs they get. Even reblogging the fic and screaming in the tags makes a writer’s day, believe me. And if you don’t want the fanfic on your blog for whatever reason, tumblr has the option of replies. That way you can still let the writer know you enjoyed their fic while keeping it off your blog. Boom, everyone’s happy and everyone gets more fics. Honestly, you don’t have to write novels in the comments. Just a short “I love it” can make a difference for the writer so I’d like to implore everyone who's reading this to take the extra 10 seconds to drop a comment to the fanfic writer whose fic you enjoyed. It costs you so little while it has the power to make someone happy for years in the future.

2. On that note, I’d like to see more engagement in the fandom as a whole. Now that the show is over, we run the risk of falling apart as a fandom. I don’t think the chances of that are very high but they’re still there. And that scares me to death because OUAT means so much to me (it has been so for almost 4 years now) and now that it’s over, the fandom is the only thing I have left. I don’t necessarily feel like there’s been a significant change in the interactions inside the fandom, but I think it would do everyone some good if we were more engaged with each other’s works. I know it’s hard to keep up with everything that’s going on and I’m far from demanding it from anyone. No, what I mean with this is that we as a community can offer more by barely changing anything about the way we engage with fandom content. It doesn’t take a lot. A comment on a fic you liked, a reblog on that gorgeous piece of art you just saw, a passing thought in addition to a headcanon you read - stuff like that. Small gestures of support can make the difference. And you don’t have to spread yourself thin over the activity of the entire fandom. Just be a little more engaged in the circles you’re in.

3. I’d like to see more consideration. It’s totally okay to fawn over some fanfic or fanart and it’s natural to want the creator to make more of it, but you should be careful with your requests. It’s common courtesy to first check if the creator is willing to make more of it before you start begging them to do so. Every creator likes to see that there’s interest in their works, but it’s a little overwhelming when someone demands more from you on a project that you don’t really feel like continuing. This might be a personal thing, but I feel a bit guilt-tripped when someone is pleading with me to do something that they desperately need of me. Especially when I’ve already stated my opinion on the matter. There are ways to encourage creators to make more content without coming off as demanding. Please, master those ways. (I’m sorry if this is too ranty; it’s just something that’s been bothering me in the last few weeks).

P - Invent a random AU for any fandom (we always need more ideas)

This got way too serious even for my own liking so let’s brighten the mood a little with a happy AU. A Curious Archer Animal AU which also draws from Beauty and the Beast to be exact.

Alice is a nymph who sees a man with a bow and arrow who’s trying to hit a little fox. She blasts him with her magic and knocks him out, just barely saving the fox from a deadly shot. It still gets wounded though and Alice takes it in her care. She brings it to the cottage where she lives to nurse it back to health but there’s something extraordinary about the fox. Alice uses her magic and figures out what the problem is. The fox is actually a girl and via her magic Alice finds out that her name is Robin and she was turned into a fox by Alice’s own mother - Gothel. Robin came across Mother Nature and got herself cursed because of her insufferable attitude. She’s not being any more pleasant when in Alice’s company. She breaks things around the cottage and scares other animals away. She even hunts a little bunny even though Alice has already taken care of her dinner. However, Alice’s relentless gentleness and her caring attitude start rubbing off on Robin and she changes over time. Meanwhile, Alice is looking for a way to turn Robin back into a human but finds nothing other than dead end after dead end. Finally, when she’s tired from the lack of progress, she goes to confront her mother and ask her to turn Robin back into a human. Gothel warns her to get rid of the fox and forget about it. Otherwise, she’ll take her powers away. Alice doesn’t back down, though, which results into her powers being sealed away by Gothel. She loses consciousness from the spell and falls to the ground, dropping Robin in the process. The fox worriedly licks Alice’s cheek, trying to wake her up, when a rainbow glow radiates from both of them. Robin is turned back into a human and Alice wakes up with all of her powers back since True Love’s kiss broke the curses put on both of them. Alice uses her powers to turn Gothel into a willow to make sure that she won’t harm anyone anymore since Robin was far from the only one who got cursed by Gothel. Alice takes the position of the leader of the nymphs and the new Mother Nature and she and Robin live happily together in the woods.

S - Show us an example of your personal headcanon (prompts optional but encouraged)

I’ve mentioned this before but I think it’s worth mentioning again because I just love it so much and I know you love Zelena and I’m in such a Zelena mood today (I just made a video about her).

I headcanon that Zelena took self-defense classes after she lost her magic and that’s why she was able to defeat Jack/Hansel so easily. I think it makes sense for her to have considered other ways of self-defense since her magic was gone and she wasn’t a fully redeemed villain when it happened so there certainly were people who wanted to get back at her for something. And without magic she’d be defenseless against any possible new villain (and lbr it’s Storybrooke; there’s always a new villain). She wanted to be able to protect both Robin and herself since she didn’t want Robin to grow up the way she had - without a mother. Robin had already lost her father and Zelena wouldn’t allow her to lose her mother too. So she learned how to defend herself even without her magic.

X - top 5-10 characters who are yoUR PRECIOUS BABIES AND YOU WILL DIE DEFENDING THEM

Regina Mills (OUAT)

Zelena Mills (OUAT)

Robin Mills (OUAT)

Ruby Lucas (OUAT)

Kathryn Nolan (OUAT)

Loki (MCU)

Gamora (and Nebula) (MCU)

Phil Coulson (MCU & Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.)

Griffin (Winx Club)

Shego (Kim Possible)

Pretty much all of these can defend themselves but, heck, I love them to death and would defend them regardless.

Wow, this got so long, but it was funny and challenging, and I liked answering the questions.

#ask #intothewickedwood #once upon a time #ouat #curious archer #alice jones #robin mills #gothel #au #zelena

9 notes · View notes

swanslieutenant · 6 years ago

Text

from the sea - chapter five

Summary: When Emma becomes sheriff, the pressure of running a department with a dwindling budget becomes nothing but an exercise in frustration. That is, until she finds an unlikely ally in the town treasurer, a man who her kid Henry is convinced is not an ally at all, but rather a villainous enemy. Season 1 AU, Cursed!Killian.

Rating and Warnings: Teen.

Catch up: ch1, ch2, ch3, ch4

Read on AO3

On the Sunday morning following Emma’s coffee outing with Newport, she is awoken by the shrill ringing of the loft’s landline telephone. Emma nearly topples completely out bed at the sound, grunting in surprise. As if it wasn’t loud enough, the piercing sounds of the telephone are soon followed with a sudden clattering of dishes, echoing and crashing throughout the loft.

“Sorry!” Mary Margaret calls from downstairs, her voice breathless as if she’d just run a marathon. “I dropped all the pots and pans.”

“All of them?” Emma mutters darkly, reaching up to her bed to grab her pillow, stuffing it over her face to try to muffle some of the ringing that is still screeching throughout the apartment. “How is that even possible?”

Finally, the phone’s shrill rings cut off, and Emma can hear Mary Margaret talking in hushed tones to whoever is on the other line.

Emma lies there, pillow over her face, and briefly considers hauling herself back into the bed and burrowing her nose back into the warmth of her covers rather than just getting up and on with her day. This Sunday is one of her rare days off, and she’d been looking forward to having the morning to sleep in. But now that she’s awake, there’s no point pretending anymore.

Untwisting herself from the blankets, she rises from the floor and grabs her glasses from beside the clock on her bedside table. She never wears them out anymore, but her eyesight is still so bad that they’re needed to get from the bedroom to the bathroom to put her contacts in without an incident of cracking her knee against a bedpost or completely wiping out down the stairs.

By the time she’s dressed and on her way downstairs, Mary Margaret is off the phone. She meets Emma at the bottom of the stairs, phone still clutched in her hands, an eager shine to her eyes.

“Do you want to come to the farmer’s market with me?” she asks, her voice so quick that her words jumble together.

Emma blinks at her, still half-asleep and incapable of translating the muddled words in her current state. “To what?”

“The farmer’s market,” Mary Margaret repeats, forcing her voice calmer. “It’s just down the road, right behind the cannery. It’s where all the local business set up booths and they’ll sell cute little knickknacks and –”

“I know what a farmer’s market is,” Emma interjects dryly, and opens her mouth to agree to come, but then frowns in thought.

Newport’s words about how the farmers and artisans aren’t pleased with her due to the budget shuffle echo through her mind. Her instinct is to deny Mary Margaret’s request, but as quick as she thinks that, she’s changed her mind. If she wants to go to the damn market, she’s gonna go, and not let some bitter townspeople ruin her day.

“Emma?”

She shakes herself. “Yeah, sure. But I have to shower and have breakfast first.”

“Shower only,” Mary Margaret replies firmly, grabbing her arms and steering her away from the kitchen. “They have fresh scones and fruit and all sorts of things at the market.”

Emma’s eyebrows raise at this very un-Mary Margaret-like behaviour, but she can demand to know what the hell is going on, Mary Margaret pushes her into the bathroom and slams the door shut right on her startled face.

“Be quick!”

Emma blinks at the closed door, before shaking her head and getting to her routine. She showers, puts her contact lenses in, and brushes her teeth. She thinks she’s making pretty good time, and is towelling her hair dry when there is a sudden sharp rapping on the door that nearly makes her jump out of her skin.

“How’s it going, Emma?”

She sighs, and opens the door, showing her roommate her damp hair, the towel still around her shoulders. “I’m almost done, but if you’re in a rush, just go without me. I’ll meet you there.”

“No, no, I’ll wait for you, don’t be silly,” Mary Margaret says quickly, her voice too casual. “Just – you know, hurry up.”

Mary Margaret pads away from the door, her cheeks flushed, and Emma gets dressed again in the same outfit she had put on just a few minutes ago – warm white sweater and dark blue jeans. After drying her hair only briefly with Mary Margaret’s obnoxious old hairdryer, she stares longingly at her curling iron, but has a feeling that Mary Margaret will have a fit if she delays them too long with that. Instead, she quickly braids her still damp hair, and hoping that it not being totally dry won’t come back to bite her in the ass – in her experience, wet hair and chilly weather aren’t the best partners.

When Emma emerges from the bathroom, Mary Margaret is seated at the kitchen bar stool. She’s changed her outfit in the time Emma was occupied, and now sports a looser white blouse, paired with a simple grey skirt, instead of the plain sweatpants and old t-shirt she’d been wearing earlier. Emma raises her eyebrow at her, unused to seeing her get dressed up so nicely on the weekend.

She jumps to her feet as Emma exits the bathroom, swinging a bright green scarf around her neck and rather hilariously hitting herself in the face with the other end.

“Ready? Let’s go.”

She is halfway out the door before Emma has even taken a step further.

“Whoa, what has gotten into you?” she demands, striding to the door and pulling on one of her warmer leather jackets, a deep burgundy one with zippered sleeves, and plopping a knit gray beanie on top of her head, and adds, more to herself than to Mary Margaret, “Seriously, what is the deal with people in Storybrooke and this market?”

“Nothing’s up with me,” Mary Margaret says, her flushed cheeks saying exactly the opposite. “I just don’t want to miss the market.”

Emma is certain that they’re nowhere near the end time for one of these things – it’s only 9:30 after all – but keeps that comment to herself as she and Mary Margaret leave their apartment and make their way down the street to the parking lot next to the cannery.

Emma can hear the sounds of the market far before they can even see it: loud chatter, folk music, the idling engines of cars. When they finally come around the corner of the small hotel that blocks their view of the parking lot, they are greeted with five spacious rows of ten booths each that take up the majority of the paved area. The whole market area is packed, families browsing through the many stalls full of fresh fruit, wooden houseware, and various knickknacks.

“Aren’t you glad I dragged you along for this?” Mary Margaret sighs happily, and she links arms with Emma, tugging her along to the first aisle of vendors.

“I suppose so,” she replies grumpily, tugging at her beanie to pull down lower over her head at the cold sea breeze off the ocean. “I wish you’d let me get some coffee beforehand, but –”

“You drink too much coffee, Emma,” Mary Margaret says brightly. “One morning without will do you some good.”

Emma rolls her eyes. “Who are you, my mother?”

Mary Margaret comes to a stop then, and Emma nearly dislocates her elbow at the sudden stop in movement. Muttering a curse, she looks around to see what has stopped her roommate, and then she spots it.

Or rather, who.

David Nolan, standing innocently beside a flower stand and peering at the bouquet of red roses in front of him.

Of course.

Immediately, Emma searches for Kathryn Nolan somewhere around him too. But David is alone, his wife nowhere to be seen.

“So, this is why you wanted to come here so badly,” she mutters, and earns herself a sharp elbow in the ribs in response.

“I didn’t even know he’d be here!” Mary Margaret shoots back quickly, but her cheeks are flushed pink, reddening even more as Emma catches her gaze.

Emma snorts, and shakes her head, unsure whether to be amused or saddened (or worried, frankly) about her friend and the married, recovering amnesiac.

“Where are those scones you promised me?” she asks instead, looking at the stalls around them. “I’ll go get one of those while you talk to your Prince Charming.”

Mary Margaret ignores her and simply points out a baked goods stand a couple of booths down the current row. Emma, still rolling her eyes so hard she wonders if you can get an eye injury from over rolling, de-tangles herself from Mary Margaret and heads down there while her roommate teleports to David’s side as soon as she’s stepped away.

Pointedly ignoring them behind her, Emma purchases a strawberry scone from the vendor. She’s a grumpy woman, who glares pointedly at Emma’s sheriff badge pinned to her jeans and makes a big fuss about how Emma doesn’t have the exact change to make the $2.47 that the scone costs. It’s almost more trouble than it’s worth, but Emma’s rumbling stomach makes her grit her teeth and shift a bit more in the depths of her wallet until she finds enough change to make it work.

She munches on the scone and strolls along the vendors. The next stand over is a jewellery one, full of pretty little trinkets of the kind she thinks Mary Margaret would like, but the owner has such a nasty expression on her face when Emma approaches that she feels distinctly unwelcome to even browse. The next stations are similar stories, the owners standing aloof and glaring pointedly at her, when Emma reaches the fourth one in a row like that, she’s nearly lost her patience.

She knows they are angry about the budget cuts to the market, but seriously? She’s a citizen of Storybrooke now too, and they’re glaring at her for daring to show her face here?

Seriously, what the hell is up with this town and markets?

Taking a breath to calm herself so she doesn’t snap at the vendors and make things worse, Emma skips the rest of the booths in that row, heading to the next aisle over and hoping she’ll see some friendlier faces over there.

And, to her surprise, she spots one.

Standing at a fruit stand half-way down the aisle, examining boxes of peaches and nectarines with a furrowed brown, is Wes Newport. He’s dressed more casually today, his formal suits gone and replaced with dark jeans and a black sweater that makes his dark hair look even more striking. Like her, the owner of the fruit stand is eyeing him coldly and other passing customers take one look at him and then retreat to another stand with irritated expressions.

Well, at least they can be outcasts together.

“Newport!” Emma calls, moving towards him. “Hey, Wes!”

He glances up, and he smiles when he notices her. “Swan,” he calls back in greeting as Emma strides up to join him. “Nice to see you. What are you up to?”

She shakes her head with a small snort, slipping her hands into her back pockets as she comes to a stop in front of Newport. “Apparently coming to the market is a mandatory event when you live in Storybrooke.”

Newport chuckles at her sarcastic tone. “It is something of a big deal.”

“As I can tell.”

Emma steps in beside Newport, and she joins him in browsing through the rest of the aisle, leaving the fruit stand behind with no purchases when it became clear the owner was in no mood to even address him or Emma. The dirty looks continue as they go down the row, seeming to only increase now that the vendors see Emma and Newport together, but it’s somehow easier to ignore the dark glares with Newport at her side.

They walk nearly the length of two aisles, pausing here and there to browse, chatting pleasantly and laughing easily. The pause in front of one of the booths, which stands out significantly from the others. It’s gorgeous, the sign declaring it Game of Thorns, and the booth is overflowing with roses, daisies, violets, carnations, and other flowers Emma can’t even name, the fragrant and beautiful smell spreading delightfully throughout the surrounding area.

The owner of this booth is more pleasant than any of the others. “Sheriff, Mr. Newport. Glad to see you two here – can I interest you in any flowers this morning?”

He holds out a bouquet of white flowers to Emma, and Emma accepts it from him, so surprised at his warm tone compared to the rest of the market that she doesn’t think twice about taking the bouquet. She sniffs the flowers – sweet buttercups – but she’s hardly had the opportunity to enjoy them or pass them to Newport for a smell when a cold voice speaks from behind them.

“Glad to see you’re still in business, Mr. French. I wasn’t sure, as after all, I haven’t got this month’s rent yet.”

Emma pulls away from the buttercup, scowling, and Newport tenses beside her. Mr. Gold is standing opposite them, leaning on his cane with a serpentine smile, and staring at the man who’d given Emma the flowers.

He swallows deeply, beads of sweat beginning to dot his forehead. “My – my apologies, Mr. Gold. As – as I’ve told you, I’ve paid you what I can, but the markets are down to only once a month now and besides that –”

“That is not my concern,” Gold interrupts coldly, and Emma’s dislike of him escalates at the callous tone to his voice. “The only thing I care about is getting my rent on time, Mr. French, and on that you are sorely delayed.”

“Give the man a break, Gold,” Newport snaps, his hatred sharpening his voice into a cutting tone. “You heard him – he’s paid you what he can already.”

“Did I ask your opinion, Mr. Newport?” Gold asks coolly, finally sliding his eyes over to acknowledge their presence for the first time. He glances at Emma too, and the flowers in her hands, and he smirks, looking back to Newport and then her again. “What pretty flowers you have there, Ms. Swan. Buttercups, are they? They suit you.”

Emma narrows her eyes, and she sets the flowers down, resting her hands on her hips instead, shifting her weight so her badge gleams in the sunlight.

“Do we have a problem here, Gold?”

“Of course not, Sheriff. I was simply dropping by to remind Mr. French of his dues.”

“And he told you he’s paid you what he can,” Emma says flatly. “So perhaps the two of you can come to some sort of agreement in the meantime?”

French nods eagerly, but Gold just glares at them all. He doesn’t speak, but when it’s clear that neither Emma or Newport are leaving, his face twists angrily, and he spits out, “I have nothing to discuss with Mr. Newport here.”

Emma narrows her eyes and braces herself for a fight. She knows Newport well enough to know he’ll hate being spoken to by Gold like that, and he doesn’t disappoint.

“Fine,” he grounds out. “I’ll take my leave then. Good luck, Mr. French; you’ll need it with this slimy bastard.”

Emma winces as Gold’s face flushes with rage, but Newport turns on his heel before the pawnbroker can reply. He nods to Emma as he departs, and Emma turns to face Gold and French, crossing her arms over her chest. So much for her day off and fun morning at the market – back to keeping the peace it is.

Newport grinds his teeth together as he walks away from Emma, Gold, and Mr. French. He knows Emma is perfectly capable of handling things on her own, that he doesn’t doubt or question, but he’s furious at the mere presence of Gold.

He continues down the aisle, but doesn’t go too far, loitering by a jewellery stand several stands over to wait for Emma. The stand is chock full of silvery necklaces, earrings, bracelets, and rings. They’re mostly feminine designs, with jewelled pendants and heart-shaped lockets. His gaze falls on an outlying piece of jewellery at the edge of the table, and he peers at it, suddenly taken.

He’s not a jewellery man (a single pierced ear remains as a reminder of his once rebellious phase when he was a younger man), but there’s something about this necklace that makes his gaze linger over it. It’s got two charms, a skull and a sword, strung together on a thick silver chain. The necklace is obviously second hand, the charms worn and chipped in places, and he’s a bit surprised to see it amongst the rest of the pristine jewellery.

“Excuse me,” he says, and the attendant, a younger man with a pierced ear and a thick navy coloured cravat turns to him. “Can you tell me about this necklace?”

The man lumbers over, and nods as he takes in the necklace in Newport’s hand. “Ah, yeah. Looks a bit different than the rest, eh? I actually got it from Gold’s pawnshop.”

Newport’s hand curls into a fist at his side, blood boiling at the man’s name, but the vendor pays no notice.

“Nice, eh? Traded it in for a couple kerchiefs; thought it would add a little spice to the rest of the collection.” The man pauses for a second, eyeing Newport up and down, and says, a bit incredulously, “You interested in it?”

And Newport knows what the man is thinking – what does he, the orderly town treasurer want with a rather gothic and piratical-looking necklace? But something strange has come over him and he knows he cannot leave this booth without the necklace in his possession. Perhaps that it used to be Gold’s possession, but whatever it is, he has to have it.

“I’ll take it.”

The young man looks surprised for another brief moment, but nods quickly, clearly not willing to lose the sale by asking any more questions. He wraps the necklace up in tissue paper, slipping it in a velvet baggie while Newport fishes out his wallet.

“Thanks very much, Mr. Newport,” the man says, bestowing a small smile as Newport nods in turn. “Have a nice day.”

Newport slips the baggie into the back pocket of his jeans as he steps away, resisting the urge to pull out the necklace and slip it on over his head. Shaking his head, a bit unnerved at what’s come over him, he glances over to see how Emma’s getting on, trying to distract himself.

She’s standing with her back to him, hands on her hips, as Gold and French argue in front of her, and Newport can see her irritation in just her stance. His return to her side won’t be welcome now, and he turns back, eyes roving down the rest of the aisle to see where else he can waste some time, when his eyes fall on the beginnings of an altercation brewing down the row.

Mr. Casolare, the man who had strewn his papers about at the town hall meeting, and another local farmer named John Badger, are standing toe-to-toe in the centre of the row, both men’s hands clenched into fists at their sides.

Newport sighs at the sight, glancing behind him once more to Emma. He’d told her he was just there browsing and enjoying the day and, while that’s not a complete lie, there is more to it too. No matter that it’s the weekend, Newport’s duties as Regina’s employee are never done.

Regina never attends these community events herself – ‘peasants’ affairs’, she calls them – and while Sheriff Graham had often been her eyes and ears here, now that he’s gone, the task has fallen to Newport.

Her orders of ‘make sure everything stays civil’ echoes in his head at seeing Casolare and Badger arguing, and he sighs again. He’s not one for conflict – these days, at least – but he’s been sent here on a specific mission and there’s a form of steel in Regina’s words that make him step forward towards the two men.

“What seems to be the problem here?”

Casolare and Badger tear their eyes from each other to turn to him, and Casolare scowls immediately. Badger doesn’t look pleased either, but he at least doesn’t give Newport a death glare as he instantly starts speaking.

“Casolare here is accusing me of stealing his customers. Which is utterly ridiculous as –”

“It’s true, and you damn well know it,” Casolare snarls back. He looks away from Badger, his rage turning to Newport, and he steps towards him instead. “And, if this was any other day, any other market morning, I’d not care so much. But now because of you –” he jabs his finger angrily into Newport’s chest and a fiery rage erupts from that spot, shooting hotly through Newport’s blood like lightning – “I need all the sales I can get, and if Badger here keeps snatching up all the customers as they walk by just cause he’s closer to the entrance of the aisle, it’s not gonna happen and then –”

“It’s not my fault that my cherries are better than yours,” Badger retorts then, balling his hands into fists. “Yours are half-rotten already, look at them –”

That sets Casolare off, and he lunges forward at Badger with a roar of anger. Newport, with quick reflexes he wasn’t aware he had, jumps forward and grabs Casolare’s collar, stopping him from tackling Badger to the ground.

“Knock it off, Casolare,” he snaps, the hot rage sparked by Casolare’s shove to the chest starting to bubble over now. The feeling of such an unbridled fury coming upon him so quickly startles him, but it’s also a strangely familiar feeling, though one he feels like he hasn’t felt in eons.

“I damn well won’t knock it off –”

“Are you serious, Ron? You’re going to attack me?” Badger demands face white in fear, and he steps back, looking horrified. “Over cherries?”

Casolare snarls, face flushing with anger, and tries to lunge out at him again. Newport tugs him back once more, shoving him a bit further away from Badger.

“I said knock it off,” he growls. “Or you won’t be welcome at the next market. Mayor Mills doesn’t tolerate any sort of –”

Casolare laughs out loud then, spraying Newport’s face with cold spittle, and Newport falls silent in surprise.

“So that’s why you’re really here, eh, Newport? Mayor Mills can’t do her own dirty work? And now that Sheriff Humbert’s dead and the new sheriff won’t do it for her, you’re up?” He shakes his head, and spits onto the ground, barely missing Newport’s shoes. “I always knew you were nothing but her mindless slave.”

Slave.

The word seems to echo around Newport’s head, reverberating and growing louder, twisting into another man’s voice, a darker, crueller voice. A voice that shouts the word at him over and over, emerging as if from memories long buried. And suddenly the rage he’d been trying to quell overwhelms him, rushing through him and boiling his blood, and he snaps.

Casolare has turned back to Badger, arguing again and ignoring Newport totally, but he steps forward and shoves Casolare away from Badger. Casolare stumbles, caught completely off guard, and nearly topples right over as he yelps in surprise. Newport grabs hold of his shirt collar, yanking him upright and closer so that they’re nearly nose-to-nose.

“What the hell is wrong with –”

“You listen to me, Casolare,” Newport snarls, and his voice sounds foreign to even his own ears – rougher, angrier, darker. “I am no one’s slave. If you ever say such a thing to me again, or even think such a thing, you’re going to find out just how cruel I can be of my own accord.”

“Alright, alright, cool it,” Casolare chokes out, eyes widening in alarm. "I didn’t mean to get you so riled up, Newport, Jesus –”

And then, as suddenly as the anger had swelled up, it drains out of Newport in one fell swoop. It’s as if hearing his name has flipped a switch somewhere internally, locking that anger and rage back into whatever cage it’d been contained in, and he’s left cold and empty.

“Sorry,” he says, abruptly releasing Casolare, who stumbles away from him. “I don’t – I don’t know what came over me.”

Casolare just stares back at him, and Badger is lost for words now too. The two men look at each other, their own argument forgotten, and take off without another word towards their respective booths.

Newport watches them skedaddle only superficially; his thoughts are too muddled with shock to really process much else. That reaction he’d had to Casolare’s words … he doesn’t remember ever becoming so angry so quickly ever in his life, ever having felt such deep rage so furiously fast. It alarms him how quickly that anger had come up on him, how easy it had been to just give over to it and to let it course through him, to let it consume him.

Where the hell had that come from?

He takes a deep breath, running his hand through his hair, and steps back into the main aisle of the market. Luckily, it seems that none of the other customers had noticed his altercation with the two farmers, or if they have, they’ve looked away again, back to pretending he doesn’t exist.

He’s so out of sorts, staring at the end of the row stand with knit tea cozies on every possible surface and not even seeing them, that he doesn’t even notice when Emma comes up to stand beside him.

“You okay there, Wes?” she asks, her voice curious and cautious. Her business with Gold and French is clearly over, the men nowhere in sight, and her attention is fully on him, eyebrow raised and a peculiar expression on her face.

“Aye,” he says, a moment too late. “I’m fine. Um, how – how did you end up? With Gold and French?”

She narrows her eyes at him, and he knows his attempt to change the subject hasn’t fooled her for a moment. “Oh fine. I think we figured something out, though I think Gold left more pissed than when he got there.” She tilts her head at him. “And you? You look like you just saw a ghost.”

Not a ghost, he thinks grimly. More like a demon, and more like he saw it within himself.

“No, no. I just ...” he hesitates, not sure how to explain what came over him. “Well, there was some trouble with two of the farmers. They were arguing about customers, and then saw me and got annoyed with the budget cuts, and I lost my temper with them.”

Emma frowns, clearly surprised. “Really?”

He hesitates again, and then shakes his head. “Yeah. I don’t know why. One second Casolare was just talking and then –”

“Casolare?” Emma interrupts, and her eyes immediately search for the man in question over Newport’s shoulder. He looks too, seeing the man fuming at his stand and pointedly not looking anywhere near them. When Newport looks back to Emma, her eyes are narrowed, mouth pinched into a dark scowl. “The man from Town Hall? The one who knocked those papers over?”

He sees easily that Emma’s misread what happened, that somehow Casolare antagonized him like he’d done at Town Hall and that’s why he got angry. And sure, that’s true on a surface level, but Newport himself is the one at fault here. He’s the one who overreacted, who acted like a raging monster. Not Casolare.

But he doesn’t answer, doesn’t correct Emma’s thought, before she’s speaking again, straightening and dropping her hands to her hips.

“This is ridiculous. If you think there will be trouble next time there’s one of these markets, I can come to the next one in uniform. First Gold and French, and now this. This is getting out of hand.”

Newport is hardly listening to her, and it’s not until Emma taps him on the arm that he breaks out of it. She’s frowning at him, and he can tell she must’ve asked him something, something he has no idea about.

“Pardon me?”

Her frown deepens, and she doesn’t remove her hand from his arm. “Are you sure you’re okay, Wes?”

“Yes,” he answers. At her unconvinced expression, he adds, “I’m fine, really.”

Emma nods after a moment, though her brows are still knitted together, and she removes her hand from his arm.

“Okay.”

There’s a moment of uncomfortable silence, their ease of the morning fading as the silence continues. Newport can’t think of what to say, to bring back their earlier camaraderie, feeling rather like he just wants to leave the market, to return to the safety of his flat and figure out what the hell came over him.

His intentions must be easy to read because Emma sighs then, and looks away, rubbing her arms. “Well, I better go find Mary Margaret and make sure she’s doing okay,” she says, and her eyes flicker back to him, a tiny lilt of hopefulness in her tone in her next words. “I guess ... I guess I’ll see you around?”

He nods, and smiles. “Of course, Swan. It was – it was very nice to see you this morning, even amidst all the ... tension.”

She smiles back in return, and then with a wave and another smile, Emma turns and disappears into the crowd with the rest of Storybrooke, and Newport’s alone. Though he’s been lonely for as long as he can remember, somehow, watching Emma walk away makes him feel its sharp hollowness as if he never felt it before and it’s all he can do to scurry away home instead of just running right after her.

That night, Newport falls into bed still fully dressed. He’d gone into the office after returning home to an empty apartment and loud thoughts, with suddenly no desire to face either. Work had calmed him down, but the sudden rage from the market has spooked him and it lingers at the back of his mind, lurking and prowling.

Luckily doing some work also exhausted him, and by the time he had trudged home, he was so tired, he didn’t even bother changing, asleep on the covers before his head had barely hit the pillow.

Dreams overtake him immediately. They’re restless, occupied mostly by a sneering man named Silver, who screams at him for his slow work, laughs at him for being a drunk, mocks his inability to hold onto any of his money, taunts him with his lack of freedom.

He senses that he’s younger in the dream, not more than a teenager, and in that state, it’s hard to restrain the tears of fury and pain in his eyes at the cruel treatment. He cowers from Silver, feeling afraid of what’s to come, and it’s when the man reaches out to strike him that Newport finally wakes from the dream, awake like a bolt of lightning before the man gets a chance to touch him.

His apartment is quiet in the early hours of the morning, calm and restful. Newport can hear his heartbeat loudly in his ears, and he shakes his head, trying to clear the dream.

A slow worker, a drunk, a gambler ... none of the things that Newport is.

But why had it felt so familiar?

Fair enough, there had been some issue with alcohol in the past, but that was long ago. But Newport has always prided himself on his quick work and, hell, Regina made him treasurer because of how good he is with money. Gambling, laziness, an alcoholic ... they aren’t words he’d used to describe himself, but they settle eerily in his mind, far too familiar.

He shudders, and throws the covers off himself, trying to force away the lingering unease. His clothes are uncomfortable now after hours of sleeping, and he rises to change, flicking on the side lamp as he goes. As he tosses his jeans onto a chair, the pirate necklace he’d already forgotten about tumbles out onto the soft rug, spilling out of its little pouch and gleaming in the dim light.

Goosebumps raise on the back of his neck as he picks it up, the metal cold in his hand. The uneasiness returns, the necklace feeling as familiar as the strange dream had. Spooked, he clenches the necklace into his fist and opens the bedside dresser drawer, tossing it inside. He stares at it for a moment, the skull and sword gleaming, and he slams the drawer shut, unnerved once again.

#cs ff #captain swan #ouat #cs mc ff #from the sea #hope you like it :)#i had fun writing this chapter #getting some of Killian's POV in the story now too!#cs fic

27 notes · View notes

seriouslyhooked · 8 years ago

Text

Wedded Bliss and Asterisks (A Modern CS AU) Part 10/?

Emma Swan is an enemy of love who just happens to be an up and coming wedding dress designer. She’s convinced that a fairytale kind of romance is nowhere in her future but when she meets Killian Jones, whose magazine is covering the opening of her new boutique, things change. Suddenly Emma finds herself drawing up new plans for her life, ones that seem to all be leading towards her own form of wedded bliss. Rated M.

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven.Part Eight, Part Nine. Also on FF Here.

A/N: Hey everyone! This week's chapter is shaking things up a bit. Don’t worry. Things on the CS front are totally okay, but this week one of Emma’s friends is faced with an old love interest come back again. Now, for any of you who don’t like any angst for ANY characters, I will suggest that you hold off on reading until next week’s update when all will be made better. But to the rest of you I thank you all for reading and I hope you enjoy!

In the two weeks since Killian first published the article on Emma’s shop, there had been little in the world that could deter from his constant state of happiness. Things at work were great, things with Emma were better, but arguably the best part of all of this was that time was allowing everything in his life to settle.

For the first few days having everything that he’d wanted for so long felt almost like a dream, but now Killian was convinced that this wasn’t his imagination. He was really here, standing in Emma’s kitchen on a weekday morning making breakfast as Emma slept soundly. He planned to wake her in just a few more minutes, but for now he was trying to show her that having him here was a good thing. He figured pancakes and coffee were a good start.

If the first step in any plan to securing Emma was talking to her on the train, and the second was romancing her the way that she deserved, then the third step needed to be making himself indispensible to her. If Killian had any hope of keeping Emma in his life permanently as he already wanted to do, he’d have to prove himself, and that wasn’t a challenge he was running from in any way. The problem was he’d never had another relationship that he cared about so fiercely. There had yet to be a moment in Killian’s life when the need to hold onto someone or something was so strong. In many ways he was sailing into all of this blind, but damn if the rush wasn’t a dizzying kind of high, and the moments of success that came weren’t the bright spots in any day.

“One of the pros of having a guy spend the night is supposed to be waking up to him the next morning.”

Emma’s words from the doorway of the kitchen pulled Killian’s attention from the stovetop, and he found her standing there against the frame just as stunningly beautiful as she always was. Killian had to admit the special appeal of Emma like this; seeing Emma with her hair still messy from sleep and her fresh face smiling at him warmly as sunlight streamed in from the window sent a pang of longing through him. Suddenly the only thing he wanted was to have this every morning, and his mind was racing a thousand miles a minute trying to devise a way to get to such a lovely state. Only after a moment did he fully take in her words and a little of his good humor slipped away.

“I wouldn’t know, Swan. I’ll have to take your word for it,” Killian grumbled. Emma laughed and Killian looked at her, wondering if his dislike of hearing about any past suitors of hers was that apparent, but she just flashed him another smile and sent some calming words his way.

“Come to think of it I wouldn’t either. This is all new territory,” Emma said as she came up to him and stepped into his arms like it was the most natural thing to do. The space around him filled with that familiar scent of lavender and Emma and his heart was full of contentment at having the chance at such a first with Emma. He wanted all her firsts from this point on, and if he had any say in the matter, he’d be her last for all these milestones as well.

“Is it wrong of me to admit how much I like knowing that?” Killian asked after pressing a kiss to her lips and Emma shook her head.

“No. And if it were I would forgive you for a spread like this. Usually on a Monday I’m grabbing cereal or begging Elsa for something when I get to the shop. But this is way better.”

Killian handed Emma a plate with pancakes at the ready and she retrieved the necessary toppings for such a breakfast before meeting him at the kitchen table. It was incredibly domestic, but despite the newness of this dance between them, Killian found it familiar. With Emma everything was new and exciting, but it was also instinctive. His body and mind were so attuned to her that he anticipated things before they even happened, and it was the same for her. This meant that breakfast together was a perfect balance of enjoying the food he’d prepared and talk about the days before them.

Again Killian slipped into thoughts about how it would be if this were their state of normal. What would it be like to sit across the table every night and every morning from Emma? He knew it would be perfect, and that these glimpses into her day and her thoughts on everything going on in her life were precious, but all of these hopes he was now carrying were big and heavy. He had to be careful not to give too much away too fast at the risk of scaring Emma off and breaking this happy spell that he was already too in love with to ever give up.

“Okay, I’ll admit. This is a pretty good consolation prize,” Emma confessed at the end of their meal and Killian’s brow rose.

“Consolation prize?” He repeated.

“Well for the other morning activities we could have had if you stayed in bed. You know, the ones I hinted at earlier,” Emma said, a knowing smile appearing on her face as her hand came to take his plate and put it in the sink. Too quickly she’d dismissed her own line of thinking, turning her attention to rinsing off the dishes, but Killian had other ideas and they involved exploring those alternate activities of hers.

He moved to stand just at her back, boxing her in with his arms on either side of her, and though she pretended to be unaffected just moments ago, the familiar tells of Emma’s desire appeared at the action. Killian felt the tiny shiver that coursed through her, and the difference in her breathing at his closeness and the intimate contact between them. If that weren’t enough, that beautiful flush of pink crept up her neck and to her cheeks, and at the sight of it, Killian was lost, knowing that he’d never make it through the day if he couldn’t satisfy his Swan’s wanting in some way.

“You speak as if we can’t have both, love. But from where I’m standing, we’ve quite a few options in appeasing your earlier desires.”

Killian watched as Emma swallowed harshly, and it only added to his arousal. Yet that was nothing to the mix of breathiness and gravel that made Emma’s voice all the sweeter to his ears. Those rich tones gave away the severity of her want for him, and it almost allowed him to believe that she felt as deeply as he did. That was an intoxicating prospect, and it took everything in him to draw this out and not just turn her around now and set about savoring every inch of her.

“Last I checked we both have work, and much as I might like to spend the day making good on those ideas of yours, I can’t. I have to shower and…”

Emma trailed off as if realizing that she’d just given him the perfect in and a grin appeared on Killian’s face that she turned to see. The range of emotion on Emma’s face was apparent, but there was nothing like denial or disdain in sight. Actually, Emma was as transparent as he’d ever seen her, clearly liking the idea of her usual normal routine being heightened by his presence.

“I think we have our answer then, Swan.”

The two of them moved into Emma’s bathroom, and Killian found himself thanking his lucky stars that though Emma lived in a rather modest one-bedroom, the bathroom in this place was spacious enough for all he had in mind. With a shower this size there were many a way to pleasure Emma, and as those tactics swirled around his mind, his own need notched up higher and higher.

Distraction threatened his resolve when Emma stripped away the t-shirt she’d been wearing and the garments underneath and moved into the shower, turning on the spray of water. There was a moment when Killian wasn’t sure if he’d get it together, but her sultry smile and teasing ‘Are you coming?’ was enough to get him moving again. Once he was naked himself and under that same spray of water, things moved exactly as he imagined. There was an element of playfulness between the two of them as they got each other cleaned, and though Killian bit back more than a few curses at the tempting moves and kisses Emma used against him, he eventually had her right where he wanted her, against the far wall, pinned for his perusal and panting for more.

The same sense of disbelief washed over him as he took Emma in then. She was soaked from the warm spray they’d been under, her hair slicked back with droplets slowly falling from the blond strands. The steam of the shower and the heat both from the water and between them left Emma flushed and gorgeous, but the most entrancing part of the picture she made was the trust in Emma’s green eyes. It was clear as day under the desire and the need, and it shot straight to Killian’s core.

He took her mouth in a demanding kiss to try and cool the craving that resided deep in his gut now, but it only riled him further when Emma arched into him and clung to him readily. Killian almost lost sight of where they were, but in the back of his mind was the idea that this was a trickier place to find this bliss. He had to protect Emma from any potential pitfalls while still giving her what she wanted and the natural thing for him then was to kneel before her and open her to his perusal.

“I don’t think I’ll ever have my fill of you, Emma,” Killian whispered and he almost doubted that she could hear him over the continuing spray of the water but the way she moaned and writhed against him told a different story. Her non-verbal insistence was enough to have him moving towards what they both so badly wanted, and the taste of her arousal on his tongue and the sound of her crying out at the contact made him all the harder.

This was a fantasy made real, having Emma for the taking like this in this way, but Killian also knew that time was not on his side. He might like to spend the day loving this woman the way that she deserved, but those wishes would have to wait to be answered. For now though, he could nip and suck and lick at just the right moments to watch Emma’s need coil tighter and tighter. He could feel the vibrations of her lust as her muscles tensed up more and more, and finally with the right pressure on her clit she broke apart, stealing his breath away as she did.

When he had righted himself and was back with her again, Emma was only just catching her breath, and the look of wonder and amazement in her expression filled Killian with pride. If ever there was a compliment to the way he gave her pleasure this was it. Emma’s look said a thousand words and the most important were that she’d never known connection like this, and she had no desire to look anywhere else for moments like these.

While Killian was still reveling in Emma’s reaction, Emma turned the tables on him, switching their positions and having him against the wall in seconds. The fire in her eyes burned hotter than anything Killian had ever felt, and when her hand took his hard length in her grasp, he growled out his approval of the feeling.

“God that’s good, love, but this was about you,” Killian argued, knowing full well he’d cave with another few seconds of her hand on him.

“There’s nothing saying this can’t be about both of us,” Emma countered, before kissing him again and then pulling back only to move down to her knees and drive Killian crazy in the process.

Words didn’t exist to express the sensation of Emma’s mouth on him, and though he tried to hold off on finding his own release as long as he could, Emma was demanding and Killian was unable to deny her. She proved all too quickly that though he might have some command over her, she held his every need and every claim to happiness in her hands. She was a siren and a temptress, and through some kind of miracle she also happened to be his.

The two of them washed up one last time before getting out and greeting the day for real, both of them getting ready and continuing that domestic display Killian had been rejoicing in this morning. It felt right to have a change of clothes here and to be getting ready for his workday with Emma just across the room doing the same. He felt privy to a process that was incredibly intimate, watching her get ready for the day ahead, and it was a miracle he got ready at all, as focused as he was on Emma.

But eventually Killian was dressed and prepared for the morning commute and he tried to soak in every last second of this morning that he could. As he was doing that, a notification pinged from his phone. He expected something work related, perhaps an update on some fluctuating items on his agenda this week before getting into the office, but instead it was a text from Liam.

L: Thursday.

That was it. There was nothing else in the text, but Killian took it’s meaning. Liam had kept in touch while away in London, and though his trip had taken a whole week longer than expected to wrap up, Killian hadn’t minded so much. It gave him more time to enjoy with just Emma and without the pressure of introducing her to anyone. Now though, Killian knew he had to face the incoming reality; because Liam wasn’t the type of person to hear no, and if Killian made an excuse, Liam would simply find another way to see Emma and meet her on his own.

“What have you got going on Thursday night?” Killian asked, and Emma smirked at the words, returning from the bathroom where she’d added the final touches to her morning ensemble.

“Nothing at the moment, but Thursday is a while away. Are you planning not to see me until then?” Emma joked.

“Ha! Just try and shake me, love.” Emma laughed at that and Killian scratched behind his ear, knowing the awkwardness was coming. “No, I’m actually asking because my brother will be back in town and he was hoping to meet us for dinner.”

Emma stilled at the mention of the potential plans and panic began to seep into Killian’s chest. He had been working so hard not to push Emma too far too fast and he knew that family was a touchier subject for her. Because she didn’t know her own family origins, and because she had never been very interested in seriously dating, Killian gathered Emma wouldn’t have much experience with something like this.

“Liam’s back in town?” Emma asked, her voice quieter and a touch higher than normal.

“Aye, love. I know it’s fast, but you have to understand that to my brother, normal time constraints aren’t really up for consideration. Liam has always done things his way at his pace, and while that might drive me mad sometimes, I know that whether it’s three days, three months, or three years from now I do want you to know him.”

He gave so much away with those words, and one heart beat of silence turned into two and then three, but finally Emma replied with a shy smile. It wasn’t the same, fully unguarded one that he was growing more accustomed to, but it was an acceptance, and another show of her faith in him.

“Well when you put it that way… sure. I’d like to meet Liam too,” Emma said, and Killian closed his eyes in a quick burst of relief and then turned back around and took Emma into his arms, waiting until she met his gaze.

“I’m not unaware of this gift you’ve given me, Emma, and I promise to make it up to you.” The shadow of a more playful smile played at Emma’s lips when he made that vow.

“Wow, he’s that bad, huh?” Killian shook his head and smiled.

“No. Liam’s a good man. I couldn’t ask for a better brother. He’s just an annoyance in our otherwise perfect bubble right now.”

“It is pretty great, isn’t it?” Emma murmured before pressing a light kiss to his lips.

“I can’t think of anything better,” Killian agreed, his hands running along the lines of her dress as he did. The sharp green color was a beautiful shade against her skin, but the way it made her eyes pop was what made it truly magical. All it took was a few seconds for Killian’s thoughts to turn again towards taking a day off and locking themselves away from any more real world interference.

“Oh no you don’t. I meant it when I said I had to get to work. And so do you.”

Did he though? Killian had to wonder, but Emma soon set him to rights, reminding him that if he wasn’t there then Will would be in charge. Though he trusted his friend, Killian didn’t know what he’d find tomorrow if he stayed away for all of today. It was a question he didn’t want to have answered, at least not right now. Instead he followed Emma out the door and waited for her to lock up her apartment before setting off to the train with her, assured that if he just had a little patience, he’d get more time like this with Emma, which was exactly what he wanted.

…………….

Hours after walking into Bliss for work that day, Emma was still adjusting to the new hurdle she was heading towards later in the week. Because that was what this was: an obstacle in her otherwise smooth and obstruction-free path.

Whenever Killian mentioned Liam in passing Emma could see that the two brothers were close and that they loved each other dearly. Growing up the way they did, without a father and then losing their mother so young, it made total sense that they would have a strong bond. But when Killian said that Liam was ‘involved’ in his life, Emma didn’t imagine that she would be the focus of Liam’s attention, at least not so soon.

From her understanding, most family’s waited until things were a little more set in stone before meeting boyfriends or girlfriends. Now Emma was left here contemplating this thing from every angle even though she didn’t really have any answers, and as with most other problems in her life, Emma took the issue to three of the people she trusted the most.

“Wow, already meeting the family. That’s pretty big stuff,” Mary Margaret declared after Emma filled in her friends about the dinner. Emma didn’t know if her friend was trying to helpfully commiserate or make Emma more anxious, but Emma was edging more firmly towards the latter feeling.

“Oh come on. Meeting Killian’s brother is nothing!” Ruby exclaimed. “This man wrote you a whole article about your passions and your life, and then he essentially said he’s falling in love with you to the whole city. This is just one dinner with one guy. You’ll be fine.”

“And if Liam doesn’t like me?” Emma asked, actually caring for the first time in a long time whether someone ‘approved’ of her.

“If Killian’s brother doesn’t like you then he’s an idiot, Emma. It’s that simple,” Elsa said, looking completely consumed by the process before her.

The four friends were all congregated in the back of the bakery, sipping on cocoa during their scheduled coffee break, but Elsa clearly hadn’t gotten the memo. Instead she was attaching sugar flowers with extreme delicacy to an engagement party cake that Emma thought was so elaborate it could pass easily for a wedding day delicacy itself. Yet Elsa affirmed more than once that while this might seem decadent, the bride and groom for the wedding in question had much higher expectations for the big day itself.

“Except it isn’t. Liam is the most important person in Killian’s life. If we don’t get along for whatever reason then I’m screwed.”

Emma’s confession put in words the worries she’d had since Killian asked her about dinner. One second she was wrapped up in that happy, magical feeling that came whenever it was just the two of them. She was actually struggling to understand how a morning could be so perfect, and then everything changed with the mention of his family. And it wasn’t like Killian had done anything wrong; it was totally normal for him to want to connect these two parts of his world, especially when Emma had made sure to put him in the path of the friends she considered her sisters more and more over the past week. But this was a lot of pressure to be facing, because if Liam and she didn’t mesh well, how could Killian possibly envision a future for the two of them together?

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Ruby countered, pulling Emma from her runaway thoughts. “Killian is in this, Emma, and he hasn’t tried to hide that at all. He’s told you, he’s told us. Hell he told the entire readership of the magazine he runs.”

“Wait. He told you guys he was serious about this?” Emma asked and her three friends nodded. “When?”

“Oh well there were some words exchanged during the interviews for the article,” Mary Margaret tossed out.

“And then again when he came to get you for lunch the other day,” Ruby added with a smirk.

“And then finally this weekend when you brought him to Graham’s to hang out with us all,” Elsa finished.

“What did he say exactly?” Emma asked, feeling a sudden need to know and that need only grew stronger when Mary Margaret and Ruby popped off of their stools and feigned a need to get going.

“Wow is that the time? Mary Margaret, we have that thing with the Millers, right?” Ruby asked and Emma huffed out a frustrated sound as Mary Margaret clung to Ruby’s offered lifeboat.

“Oh yeah. The Millers. We don’t want to be late for that!” The charade was so clearly fake that Emma rolled her eyes.

“The Miller’s are coming tomorrow,” Emma retorted, pulling a surprised but almost impressed look from Ruby and a guilty one from Mary Margaret.

“They rescheduled. Okay well we’ll be seeing you. And Emma, don’t keep Elsa too long. This is a very important cake she’s working on.”

Ruby and Mary Margaret practically sprinted out of the kitchen with Ruby’s parting words, leaving Emma slightly amused at the display and then turning her attention to Elsa. There was a bit of wariness in her friend’s blue eyes, but Elsa immediately spoke her peace, giving it to Emma straight.

“Look, Emma. I know you want to know what he said, but just trust us on this. Some things are better heard straight from the source, and you should take the fact that Ruby isn’t gossiping about it to you as a sign that it’s special. Killian will tell you everything when he’s ready. Who knows? Maybe he already has.”

Emma let her friend’s words sink in, and she felt the same happy flutter that she’d had most of the morning return. This was a happy medium in many ways, because she knew that Killian was really serious about her, but she also got to think back on how many ways he’d said and showed that to her already. There were some words unspoken between them still, words that arguably had no place in a relationship this new, but deep in Emma’s heart she knew that they were coming. Someday she’d tell Killian that she loved him and he would do the same. At least she hoped he would.

“From what I know about Liam,” Emma said, changing the subject and prompting a relieved exhale from her friend as she did, “he’s even more obsessed with his work than Killian. He’s built a big business, made a lot of money, and he’s very proud of that.”

Elsa let out a barked out laugh that sounded more hostile than anything Emma usually heard from her kind, often quiet friend.

“I know the type. Money is important to some people, Emma, but you just have to remember that you’re impressive too. You’re making a name for yourself in an industry that is tremendously unfriendly to newcomers. Don’t let him intimidate you. You’re the one doing something hard. You’re following your passion and making that a business. Money is just money.”

Clearly Elsa’s words and opinions were prompted from her experience with people in ritzier circles. Emma couldn’t imagine what it had been like for Elsa growing up rich. When she was a kid, Emma was as dirt poor as one could be, and in college she’d worked like crazy to keep her ship afloat on top of all of the scholarships she earned. Only now did she feel like she was starting to find her bearings and build up the kind of savings people were supposed to strive for.

But Elsa had never been comfortable floating around at society galas and she’d never been content with being an heiress. She wanted to work and she wanted to create, and she also wanted to do things on her own. Luckily she had a family that could support that despite their own entanglements with the upper class world, but not everyone from Elsa’s past was as understanding, and Emma knew that irked her friend more than anything.

“So I should go up to him, shake his hand, and then immediately tell him that I’m better than him?” Emma teased, knowing that the whole idea was preposterous. From the way Elsa broke into a smile and let her earlier tensions ease away, Emma knew the joke had been well received.

“Okay maybe not… Wait! You know what works for everyone, money or not? Food – more specifically cupcakes.” Elsa pulled down a binder from one of the shelves above her. “I know I have something in here he would like. There are some universal flavor profiles after all. I’ll make something and you can bring it. Then you’ll win him over without any problems at all.”

“You’re the best, Elsa,” Emma said, coming around to hug her friend and Elsa laughed.

“I try. But for your sake I won’t go telling Ruby or Mary Margaret that you said that. You know how they get when anyone picks favorites. It always blows up into a ‘who can be a better friend’ competition.”

Emma agreed with Elsa that it was for the best that they keep that last remark on the down low, but she thanked Elsa again before heading back into the larger fray of the shop. When she did she spotted Ruby and Mary Margaret very clearly not speaking with the Millers, but gossiping amongst themselves, and was about to poke fun when the bell above the door jingled and Mary Margaret looked up and then immediately went white as a sheet. Emma followed her friend’s gaze to the door and found herself biting back a curse.

What the fuck is Kathryn Parker doing here?! Emma yelled internally and she moved without any thought at all towards Mary Margaret, trying to shield her friend from the rude and sometimes even cruel woman that they’d met at college. With her shiny blonde hair and lithe frame, Kathryn thought herself the bell of the ball, and Emma had never liked her, even before everything happened between Mary Margaret and her all those years back.

“We’re closed,” Ruby tossed out upon seeing Kathryn and the blonde woman paused but then smiled meanly.

“Really? The sign on the door says open, and as a new business I can’t imagine you can just go turning away customers,” Kathryn said, tilting her head in silent challenge.

“Well broaden your mind to the possibility, honey, because we are too damn busy for whatever game you’re playing.” Ruby’s words were greeted with a laugh from Kathryn and her movement further into the shop.

“Oh Ruby, you always were a trip. And I’m not playing any game. I’m getting married.”

Kathryn offered her hand out for them all to see, and there, resting on her finger was a ring so ghastly that Emma actually winced. It was way too big, way too tacky, and clearly a statement of wealth over love. How anyone could find a rock like that romantic was beyond Emma. It lacked any kind of taste in her opinion, but it also did the job of announcing to the world (and the satellites taking pictures from outer space) that Kathryn was engaged.

“Wow. So you finally tricked a man into tying himself to you. I’ll keep him in my prayers,” Ruby quipped and Kathryn’s smile evaporated. Now she just looked cold and angry.

“I’ll let David know you said that,” She spat out and Emma’s gut clenched as she felt the energy shift behind her.

David Nolan was the one person Mary Margaret had ever been in love with. It started off harmlessly enough, with the two of them in many of the same classes and study groups while they were all at Columbia, but from the start Mary Margaret liked him as more than a friend. He had always been dating Kathryn though, and while everyone could tell that he wasn’t actually interested, Mary Margaret told Emma that it was expected of him. David’s father was very controlling and had already arranged for David and Kathryn to be together for the sake of some big business merger between the two families. Emma always thought that David would man up one day and break it off, but then a few weeks before graduation, Mary Margaret told them all she never wanted to talk about David again and they agreed no questions asked, not wanting to upset her any further with whatever was going on.

“I’m going to go in back and -,”

Whatever words Mary Margaret was about to say died on her lips as the bell above the door jingled again and in walked David himself. As far as awkward situations went this had to be the worst one Emma had ever lived through, but it only got more confusing when David spied all of them and his shock and horror were clearly evident. But through those obvious responses, there was an underlying tone of disbelief and maybe even happiness.

“Mary Margaret?”

It felt like spying on a far too intimate moment watching these two people with the kind of history they had crossing paths after so long. Emma felt the need to go and give them privacy, but then she watched as every shield and barrier Mary Margaret had was erected against him. Her loving and often overly-open friend was suddenly untouchable and she withdrew so quickly, it made Emma’s head spin.

“I can’t,” Mary Margaret whispered and ran back towards her office, with Emma and Ruby both wanting to go after her. As soon as they figured out this horror show, they were going to do just that. Meanwhile, David looked liable to follow her and Kathryn moved to stop him.

“David, darling, you made it. We were just talking about you.” Kathryn oozed the words with a fakeness that made Emma’s stomach turn. God, how could anybody be so openly malicious?

“Kathryn, I don’t know what you think you’re doing but-,” David was cut off by a sharp laugh from the crazy woman at his side.

“Well I’m planning the wedding, silly.”

“The wedding?” David laughed and then looked to Emma and Ruby and realized they both thought she was serious. “Kathryn there is no wedding!”

A beat past where Kathryn didn’t say anything, and the room was so thick with tension one could cut it with a knife. The anger and rage radiating off of this woman was palpable, but she wasn’t the only one who was angry. David looked pissed, and Emma knew for a fact that Ruby was just as mad at Kathryn for doing this as she was. Finally, Kathryn appeared to regain her composure, and she just ran her hand up and down David’s arm.

“I guess my little surprise isn’t going the way I hoped. I just thought we could get some guidance from some old friends. We’ll talk about this later. Emma. Ruby.”

“Bitch,” Ruby muttered under her breath, and Emma was right there agreeing with that title as they watched Kathryn leave. Only when she was gone and out of sight did Emma breathe easy again. Then her eyes moved to David who was gazing in the direction that Mary Margaret had walked towards. Emma’s protective instincts rose and her own walls came back up again in an instant.

“I think you should leave, David,” Emma said firmly but when he looked at her, Emma’s heart went out to him. Clearly he was miserable over this.

“I had no idea Kathryn would come here,” David began, trying to explain himself as Ruby huffed out an angry breath.

“She might be evil, but she does have taste. Not that we’d ever work on a wedding for her. I’d actually rather die.”

“You guys, you have to believe me. It’s not true. I’m not marrying Kathryn. She’s been hounding me recently and said if I met her at this address she’d stop. I didn’t know where here was until it was too late. I called things off between us a long time ago.” Emma wanted to believe David, and her internal sirens that usually rang when someone lied weren’t going off, but when it came to the wellbeing of one of her friends, she couldn’t be too careful.

“Well she clearly doesn’t know that. Instead she’s coming here out of spite to torture my best friend. Why is that?” David flinched at Emma’s accusatory tone, but he eventually manned up and spoke the truth.

“Because she knows that I’ve only ever loved one woman and that woman is Mary Margaret.”

David’s confession hung in the air between them all until finally Ruby countered with the burning questions both she and Emma had.

“If you love her, why didn’t you ever tell her? Why didn’t you fight for her? It’s been years David. She’s moved on. She has a new life now.”

“I tried to! But something happened and she wouldn’t talk to me. One day I had ended things with Kathryn and gone against my father ready to choose Mary Margaret, and the next she was saying she never wanted to talk to me again. I tried for weeks but she shut me out and there was no way back in. Finally I realized that even if I didn’t understand why, I was hurting her too much. Seeing me for whatever reason caused her pain and I couldn’t do that to her, so I walked away even though I knew it was a mistake.”

“Mary Margaret wouldn’t just right someone she cared about off, David. Not without a reason.”

These words from Emma were softer than the others, and something seemed to occur to David in that moment. Emma couldn’t say exactly what was running through the man’s mind, but eventually he spoke again, more determined to fix this then even before.

“Whatever it is, I’ll find out and I’ll make it right. I swear I’ll make it right.”

With that David turned and walked out the door, leaving Emma and Ruby standing there in the middle of the store both wondering how the hell the day had gone so wonky. Another second or two past, but then Emma was in motion and pulling Ruby with her so that they could find Mary Margaret and try and comfort her about all of this. But soon enough they realized their friend was just beyond the bend in the hall, standing with Elsa who must have come out at some point. Being this close there was a very good chance she had heard everything and Emma’s heart went out to her.

“So you caught all that, huh?” Ruby asked and Mary Margaret gave a jerked nod.

“Yeah. I heard it.” Mary Margaret’s voice was so closed off right now, like she was numbed to everything happening. Emma didn’t know how to take that. Was she angry? Shocked? Overwhelmed?

“Want us to go back out there and kick his ass? He can’t have gotten far.” Elsa offered and Mary Margaret shook her head.

“I think he was telling the truth.” Emma, Ruby, and Elsa all gaped at Mary Margaret’s words. If she truly believed David loved her and hadn’t done anything wrong, why wasn’t she going after him? But then she clarified. “I mean about not marrying Kathryn.”

“Why do you think that?” Emma asked and Mary Margaret gave a sad attempt at a smile.

“The ring was wrong.”

“You can say that again,” Ruby retorted, clearly about the size and cut and not for whatever other reason Mary Margaret was thinking.

“David told me once that the only ring he’d ever give his future wife was his mother’s, and that wasn’t it. The one he showed me was smaller, nicer. It was really beautiful actually.” The wistfulness in her friend’s voice couldn’t be ignored, and Emma thought to herself how telling it was that a college guy had shown a girl his mother’s ring. Who did that with someone they didn’t actually care about? Definitely no one Emma had ever met.

“And you’re sure that he wasn’t telling the truth about the rest of it?” Emma asked, placing her hand on Mary Margaret’s arm as a sign of support.

“I don’t know what I believe anymore,” Mary Margaret said. “If you’d asked me that ten minutes ago I’d say yes. But now… do you think I should go after him and hear him out? I don’t even know where – I mean – I shut him out for so long. I had to go cold turkey – I had to cut him out of my life completely and try to forget about all of it. I don’t know where I’d even start to look to find him.”

The fear in Mary Margaret’s voice spoke to her lingering feelings for David, and in that moment Emma knew that this was all going to work out. Whatever had transpired all those years ago, there was an explanation for it. There had to be. Two people with intense emotions that remained after all this time had to find their way back to each other. Emma truly believed that.

“He’ll be back,” Ruby said definitively and Mary Margaret looked relieved and hopeful.

“How can you be so sure?” she asked and Ruby looked to Emma for confirmation.

“Did that look like a guy who was going to let this go?”

“Not even a little bit,” Emma agreed and Mary Margaret nodded, still trapped in her daze. Emma wondered if she was going to be okay when finally Mary Margaret straightened up and shook it off.

“Well whatever happens, we have business to take care of here. I let Kathryn Parker take enough from me back then. I won’t give her the satisfaction of causing problems with my work.”

“Atta, girl. And you know what? I could probably whip up some of that safe to eat cookie dough if you -,”

“Yes!” Ruby and Emma yelled at the same time on Mary Margaret’s behalf. There were few things in the world that could ease a heartache like Elsa’s cookie dough.

“I think that’s exactly what we need,” Ruby said and they all agreed to that and to a drink after the shop closed for good measure before going their separate ways again and trying to let things go back to normal.

But as she walked back to her appointments, reemerging into the calls on her time for the day once again, Emma had to admit one thing: She might be nervous about meeting Liam, and she might question her ability to make a good impression, but what she didn’t have to question was Killian or the fact that he wanted her and that he was going to continue to want her no matter what. Whatever happened at this dinner, Emma truly believed they would make it out okay, and that, after everything she’d witnessed this afternoon, was a comfort Emma would cling to as long as she could.

Post-Note: So there we have it. I know some of you are probably wondering why I separated the Snowing get together like this, but I’ve got a vision, and I promise the way they make up will be worth it (basically big confessions and cuteness abound because I live for adorable ‘I love yous’ and reunions scenes). Plus there are happy endings for everyone in all my stories, or at least the good guys, and those added happy endings always feel like they add an extra layer of fluff for CS themselves. Anyway, thank you all so much for reading and I hope you all have a wonderful rest of your day.

10 notes · View notes

arthurandlyanna · 7 years ago

Photo

The rumor spread among the smallfolk, repeated and twisted, the insignificant verity in the story each time reduced ; a baby ; a frail woman ; a disgraced sentinel. The tale crossed mountains and rivers, reaching ears that couldn’t or shouldn’t hear it. But where was the truth in those words? ---it is said that she survived, that he fled with her. ---who? ---the Dragon’s whore and the Oathbreaker.

Essos AU + Ibrahim Celikkol as Arthur Dayne, Kathryn Prescott as Lyanna Stark, Nolan Gross as Jon

#both #*#*jon #arthur x lyanna #asoiaf #arthur dayne #lyanna stark #jon snow

447 notes · View notes

ask-kathryn · 5 years ago

Text

Kathryn had no idea where her husband was. She had tried to stop him for that was something she should have done the first time, but he was so determined to leave and it left her heartbroken. She didn’t sleep well that night and found herself restless at home. She had no interest in doing any of her favorite hobbies because all she could think about was David’s well-being. Was he safe? She didn’t know what to think as she tired to calm her mind. She was afraid to think the worst and that he found someone else. He wouldn’t do that to me... He came back. He agreed to get help from Dr. Hopper.

@ask-charming-david

#kathryn nolan #david nolan #au week: glitch #( sorry it's so short! )

4 notes · View notes

blessed-but-distressed · 6 years ago

Text

Cross My Heart (3/31)

All Sheriff Emma Swan wanted was a bit of the quiet life. Why else would she take a job in Storybrooke, Maine, where deer outnumber people? But when a local woman turns up murdered, Emma quickly realizes she might be out of her depth. Enter Killian Jones, 17th century buccaneer turned vampire, who might just have the kind of unique perspective on the crime she is looking for. It’s a shaky alliance, but when Emma’s past comes back to bite her, she might just discover how handy having a vampire around can be.

A Captain Swan Supernatural Summer AU.

also on ff.net and ao3

Rated M for Mature Readers. Trigger warnings for blood, gore, violence, sexual references, blood sharing, mental manipulation and major character deaths.

This here is a murder mystery with vampires in it, and it plays out accordingly. You get what you pay for.

This is my contribution to the Captain Swan Supernatural Summer event. Many thanks to my pseudo-attorney @distant-rose for her art, her positivity, and her commitment to getting the gross details just about right. A big thank you also to @kmomof4 for putting the @cssns together, and for asking me to take part. And thanks to Eric Northman, for some inspiration.

Chapter Three

On the whole, Emma tried to avoid spending too much time in morgues.

It wasn’t just the cloying smell of formaldehyde, which clung to her clothes for the rest of the day. Or the thermostat set at a chilly 40 degrees. It wasn’t even the idea of being trapped in a windowless basement with a whole bunch of dead people. Though, gross.

For your garden variety deaths, your heart attacks and car accidents, the body was usually farmed out to the funeral parlor the next town over, who would handle everything. For the more interesting cases though, the Office of the Chief Medical Examiner would get involved, transferring the body down South for an autopsy.

Kathryn Nolan’s was an interesting case.

Which meant if Emma didn’t want to wait a month for the official autopsy report, she would have to get in good with the Medical Examiner. The Medical Examiner who was currently dodging her calls.

“I’ll flip you for it?” she pleaded, as Graham rummaged in the break room cabinet in search of more coffee filters.

“You already owe me for the press conference,” he pointed out, emerging from the cabinet empty handed and scowling. “Do we still have that paper towel in the storage closet?”

“They have a Dunks in Augusta…” Emma cajoled.

She sensed a flicker of interest from him, but only a flicker. In the end, his principles won out, and he shook his head defiantly. “I’ve been pulling doubles for you all week. I’m not driving to Augusta and back just because you want to avoid seeing one of your old hook ups.”

She really needed to stop telling him things.

She held his gaze for a long moment, but his resolve didn’t break. Son of a bitch.

“Fine!” Emma relented, reaching over to grab the keys for the patrol car off their hook. “I’ll go. But don’t think I’m bringing you back any Boston Kremes. You’ve shown where your loyalties really lie.”

Graham seemed to realize his grave error then, face contorting in pain at the very mention of his favorite treat.

“Nuh, uh,” Emma warned, waggling a finger in front of his face. “You had your chance. I hope you like jelly, you traitor.”

To call Dr Victor Whale an old hook up was pushing it. It was a one time thing, ages ago. A darkened bar, two counties from home. He was just a charming smile after a long line of shots. It wasn’t her fault he worked at the State Police Crime Lab. It wasn’t like he’d volunteered that information at the time. There hadn’t been a whole lot of talking, from what she remembered. Though if she was being honest, that wasn’t a lot.

He must’ve remembered at least a little, though, because a definite look of panic crossed his face when he saw her standing by the door to the laboratory, file in hand.

“Relax, Doctor,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “I’m not here for a paternity suit.”

He chuckled, but the way his shoulders relaxed underneath his lab coat convinced Emma she’d been right on the money with that one.

“Emma Swan,” she said, reaching over to shake his hand, saving him the trouble of having to remember her name. “I’m actually here about a dead woman.”

“No shortage of those here,” Whale said, breaking contact to stretch his arms wide. “We’ve got every make and model. Cheerleaders. Housewives. Grandmas. Society queens. Or if you’re looking for something a touch more exotic, our night time receptionist is of the walking, talking, bloodsucking variety. So, what can I do you for, Sheriff?”

He’d clocked her badge at her hip, then. Always a good sign to have a medical examiner who noticed the little details.

“You’ll remember mine. Kathryn Nolan? She had her heart missing. I heard you were the one who did the autopsy?”

It was almost comical, how fast his devil-may-care grin slid into a grimace.

“Kathryn,” he nodded solemnly. “Of course.”

“Great. Feel like answering some of my questions?”

He hesitated, running a hand through his short platinum hair. “I feel like I should warn you my full report won’t be ready for a couple weeks. The labs are still backed up from Christmas, and…”

“And I’ve got someone in my town who likes to carve out women's hearts,” Emma interrupted. “I’ll take your work-in-progress.”

He blinked. Just once.

“Alright then. She’s down in the freezer. Follow me.”

The building was labyrinthine, and Emma quickly lost her bearings amidst the institutional grey speckled walls, and rows of identical white doors. But as they descended the stairs down into the sub-basement, she came to understand why they called it “the freezer.” She hugged her arms more tightly around herself as the good doctor led her into a pristine white examination room that had never known the joys of central heating.

Probably for the best, all things considered.

“Kathryn Nolan,” Whale repeated to himself, picking up a clipboard and running his finger down the page. “Seems to be behind door number 3. You want a look at her?”

In Emma’s mind, want didn’t really come into it. Fighting her better instincts, she nodded, then stood back as Whale tucked the clipboard under his arm and pulled open the nearest cold storage locker. With a small grunt of effort he slid the steel drawer free until the figure under the white sheet lay between them.

Dragging her eyes from the shape beneath the sheet, Emma looked up to see Whale watching her. Waiting for some sign of distress, maybe. She figured this was probably the juncture where most people would start with the hyperventilating and the vomiting. Fortunately, Emma was not most people. This wasn’t her first rodeo. And even it is had been, she would never give him the satisfaction.

She held his gaze firmly as he pulled back the sheet.

“This your girl?”

Kathryn looked better than the last time Emma had seen her. Not that that was all that hard. But someone had definitely cleaned her up, removed all the river debris and brushed her hair out.

“I’m guessing you’ve established cause of death, Doctor?”

His grin was wry. “Well, I might’ve gone to a State School, but even I couldn’t miss the gaping hole in her chest where her heart used to be.”

Emma blanched. “They took out the heart while she was still alive?”

“That’s my working theory. Massive chest trauma. She was definitely dead before she hit the water, anyway. The condition she arrived in made it a little hard to determine whether her other injuries were sustained before or after her swim in the river, but I didn’t spot anything else that looked particularly lethal.”

Seeing the look on Emma’s face, Whale hurriedly continued.

“Of course, there’s every chance she wasn’t conscious at the time. We’re still waiting on the toxicology to come back, but she might’ve been drugged. There weren’t any ligature marks on her wrists or ankles, and that’s rather telling. I doubt your girl would’ve just kept still while someone hacked into her.”

Emma remembered the woman who outpaced her on the treadmill, week after week. No, that didn’t seem like Kathryn’s MO.

“So they used a knife? Like a hunting knife?”

“That’s probably a good bet. I’ve taken some moulds of the grooves left in the ribs. I might be able to narrow that down for you. But my best guess at the moment is you’re looking at a substantial blade. 10 inches maybe. They weren’t fucking around.”

Emma wondered if that was the medically appropriate term.

“Good news is,” Whale pointed out, “whoever your killer is, they probably aren’t too smart, and they’re definitely not medically trained. I did some reading about this. It isn’t easy to rip out a human heart directly from the chest. There’s the sternum and the ribs to contend with. It takes a lot of strength to cut or break through them, and a lot of time. It’s messy. The victim doesn’t die right away. Compare that with, say, the Aztecs, who practised heart-extraction as part of some rituals. They’d slice below the ribs with a sharp rock, and rip the heart out from below. It’s fast, efficient, and relatively easy to accomplish with little more than a scalpel and your hand.”

He indicated the angry wound marring Kathryn’s chest. “That’s not the route your killer chose to take. Ergo, not too bright.”

Or maybe they just appreciated the spectacle of it.

“You get anything I could use to find this guy?”

Whale shrugged, lifting the sheet back over Kathryn’s face. “After a couple of days in that river, you’d be lucky to find any useful trace evidence. We sent everything we had off for analysis, but I don’t like your odds. ”

Emma frowned. “You think she was in the water the whole time, then? She was killed the day she disappeared?”

“That’s my opinion. It’s hard to say for sure. The decaying process is delayed when the body is submerged in water, especially when it’s this cold. But the body was already showing signs of putrefaction, so she’d probably been out there the full five days. That’s not forgetting the lack of ligature marks, which suggest she wasn’t held for any length of time. If you’re thinking this was a kidnapping, then I’d say they used some kind of drug to incapacitate her, in the short term. Unfortunately, the condition of the body makes it hard to determine how it might’ve entered her system. You’d have to wait for the tox screen to know what you’re dealing with.”

“So you’re saying it could be anyone?” Emma sighed, rubbing her eyes with the heel of her hand.

“Well,” Whale considered. “Anyone with a hunting knife and a certain amount of patience. They didn’t do this by accident. They meant to rip her heart out. If you consider how much strength it would take to saw through the sternum, you’re probably looking at a male, or especially strong woman. Hard to gauge height by the angle of grooves in the ribs, because she was probably on her back at the time, but the marks definitely skew left. So he was probably right-handed.”

“So he’s strong, right-handed man, then?” Emma summed up.

It didn’t really narrow down the field much, and the apologetic look Whale shot her way said he knew it.

“And he probably knew her,” Whale added. “Or surprised her. I didn’t spot a lot of obvious defensive wounds. So whoever they are, they must’ve gotten pretty close before they incapacitated her.”

A strong, right-handed man, who was familiar to her, then.

As if that didn’t describe nearly the entire male population of Storybrooke to a T.

Swallowing back her disappointment, Emma extended her hand again. “Thanks for your time, Doc. I look forward to your full report.”

He looked at her hand, but he didn’t accept it. Instead he let his lips curve into what could only be described a salacious grin. “I get off in an hour. I don’t suppose you-”

“I think that would be a spectacularly bad idea,” Emma said firmly, snatching her hand back and cutting him off before he could dig himself any further. And then, because she couldn’t help herself, “Do you normally try to seduce the police officers investigating the deaths of your patients?”

“Only the hot ones,” he replied, maybe a little too honestly. “And I seem to remember we had fun together.”

Emma doubted he remembered that much. She certainly didn’t.

“Yeah, I’m not really interested in jeopardizing my murder investigation with a repeat performance.”

Whale held a finger to his lips, letting loose what she was sure someone had once told him was a panty dropping smile. “I won’t tell if you won’t.”

The next time Emma got it into her head to take a man to bed, she was going to make sure she was across state lines first. Hell, maybe even across the border. Anything to ensure she never, ever found herself in this situation again.

“As tempting as that sounds,” she said, with forced sincerity, “I think I’m gonna pass. No,” she said, holding up a hand as he moved closer. “It’s okay. I can see myself out.”

Twenty minutes and a few wrong turns later, Emma was back in the patrol car again, heater blasting, scrolling through her contacts with numb fingers.

“Graham, hey. Bad time?”

“Is there any other time?” he drawled.

Emma stifled her eye roll. “You’re funny, you know that? I knew I kept you around for a reason.”

“That and my charming personality,” he pointed out.

“Of course,” she agreed. “Can’t forget that. Any chance you put those charms to work and got Michael Tillman to open the garage for you?”

“Yeah, but I don’t know what I’m looking for. Didn’t we already dust and bag everything in Kathryn’s car?”

“We thought so, but back then this was just a disappearance. Now it’s a murder. Check again. Especially the backseat.”

“The backseat?” Graham repeated.

“Kathryn was driving from home to the office when she disappeared. It’s a straight line, and she had no reason to deviate. So either she stopped for someone, or they were already in the car when she got in. Check the backseat.”

“If I find anything, do I earn myself a Boston Kreme?” he asked hopefully.

“You find anything, I’ll buy you a whole box.”

#cssns #cs ff #cs au #cross my heart #cs au ff

57 notes · View notes