#ouat mc fic

[snowbellewells]

CS Fic Rec Monday: "Blackberry Summers" by @undercaffinatednightmare

Oh my goodness, if you love Regency romances, or have enjoyed watching Bridgerton, or just love a nice historical AU, this fic is for you! I love what @undercaffinatednightmare has done with our Emma and Killian in this long ago setting. I like how they've fussed and flirted already and I can't wait to see how it will all play out in the end. Right now it is a WIP with 3 current chapters, but don't let that stop you - check it out!! :)

"Blackberry Summers" by: @undercaffinatednightmare

[snowbellewells]

@once-upon-a-pirate-ship I just continue to be so wowed by this story and what you are doing with it!! You really have such an interesting adventure going on here, and my heart aches for Emma at the weight of guilt and responsibility she’s carrying on her shoulders.

Her conversation with Will in particular in this installment really tugged at the heartstrings. That he had lost his sister, while Emma is so desperately missing her brother really binds them and makes Will all the more able to understand the emotions she is trying to handle. His advice for her was right on target though. The same thing was true for Robin later as well. He’s a great support and encouragement for her and I’m glad they’ve met up with Robin and his band.

I did not see Anna coming there at the end! Not at all!! Another great twisty surprise! They are seeking she and Elsa and she comes crashing out of the woods toward them. But the knights have Elsa?!? And they’re nearby?!? I’m going to have to rush right on to Chapter 8 now…. 😳😳😳

How Restlessly the Stars Do Gleam - Chapter 7: Restless

Here's an early additional update, as promised!

This is fairly close to what I suppose you'd call a "filler chapter," but we know those are necessary for any story to build properly. That is precisely why I'm updating on Friday, too.

Story summary: After the Evil Queen kidnaps and curses her family and destroys her kingdom, Princess Emma is on the run. She boards a merchant vessel with her godmother Red, and they intend to travel to Arendelle to seek magical assistance. But when Emma discovers the dark truths aboard Captain Silver's ship, she must put a stop to his cruelty and rescue the Jones brothers from their enslavement. Emma has to find her own allies and face her fears in order to save her parents, her brother Leo, and her kingdom.

Find the first chapter here on AO3, or read this one here.

tagged readers: @kmomof4 @ouatpost @ultraluckycatnd @jrob64 @teamhook @tiganasummertree @zaharadessert

DM me or reply to this or any other updates if you'd like to be added to the taglist!

(another minor thing: I'm tweaking a few very minor details in the previous chapters on ao3 to stretch out the time a bit more. Emma is on the ship for three weeks or so before they left it, and I wanted to make that clearer, but there's no reason to reread or anything just for that)

Chapter seven summary: Emma is...worn down from all of it. Things are getting to her (she's just got PTSD, but therapy really isn't an option for her). She has some conversations. Some things happen. Let's find out what.

read chapter seven: Restless below the cut:

The fire crackled, the sound of it weaving together with the others, the voices that were warm with laughter and light conversation.

Their dinner that night had practically been a feast compared to what they’d eaten the first night in the forest; Robin’s people had more than adapted to their lives beyond the comfort of a house. They didn’t simply survive in the woods, they thrived there.

Robin had opened his arms and his resources to them, given them food and protection, tended to their wounds, all without ceremony. He’d pulled her aside when the others were busy familiarizing themselves with the newcomers, and he hadn’t been shy in sharing the details of his operation.

That was how Emma was able to sit amidst them all, seemingly calm and unaffected. She knew that there were four people circling the camp at all times, hiding in trees and preparing to signal if anything suspicious came near.

But earlier that day, her nightmare had almost become her reality. When she stood with Killian in that clearing, she’d practically been able to feel the threads of his life poised and ready to be cut by the Black Knights, and it had been her fault.

Every time she blinked now, it was not darkness that she saw, but death, his death, and when she’d cleaned her hands in the rushing water of a creek, the droplets of blood didn’t feel like the enemy’s blood, it felt like his. Perhaps not now, but one day, she would find her hands covered in his blood, and that was his fate, so long as he remained close to her.

She stood, unable to linger a moment more, finding a tree far enough from the crowd but still within the bounds of their camp. She leaned against it, almost hid behind it, her arms folding across her body as her temple rested against rough bark. She allowed her eyelids to drop for a moment, her breath escaping her in a strained sigh.

The crunching of the forest floor behind her made her eyes snap open, and she spun, her hand half-retrieving her sword before she realized who it was.

Will had stilled, holding up a hand though he looked untroubled by her instinctual reaction. “Apologies, Captain,” he said, “I should’ve announced meself.”

She huffed, shaking her head and dropping her grip on her sword as she fell back against the tree. “No need to apologize, Scarlet. I’m just a bit on edge.”

“A bit?” he asked, his brows raised high, and even in the low light from the fire far away, she could see the amusement in his expression. He crossed the rest of the way to her, his other hand moving to offer her whatever he held.

Her blades rested in his open palm, flashes of silver in the darkness. “You cleaned them?” she asked, taking the first between her thumb and index finger.

“You can’t just let a blade like that sit in blood all day,” he replied, a scoff just on the edge of his voice.

Her lips pulled up at one side, even as she glanced down to find one of the hidden pockets, sliding the knife into its case until it clicked.

Will watched her replace each blade, his face a mixture of awe and fascination. “Where can I get one of those?”

She laughed, straightening once the last one was secured. “I made it myself about two months ago,” she told him, “when Red and I found an abandoned village with quite the armory, amongst other things. We stayed there a week—wouldn’t risk longer than that, even though we knew the Evil Queen wasn’t able to track us anymore.”

“It’s bloody brilliant,” he said.

Emma glanced away from him, away from the camp, and into the darkness. “Yes, well,” she shrugged. “It certainly saved some lives today.”

Will was quiet for a long moment, and when she looked back, he was watching her with knowing eyes. “I s’pose that explains the solitude, then,” he muttered, moving until his back was against the wide trunk of the tree beside her, though he was angled more towards the others.

She tensed—she was always so damn tense—though she tried not to show it. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

He leant casually against the tree, one foot crossed over the other with the toe pointed into the ground. “You know, I blamed myself, too. When the Black Knights killed my sister.”

Emma turned, eyes wide and questions on her lips that she was too afraid to ask. “What was her name?”

“Penelope,” he replied. She could hear that the name was nearly too heavy for him to say aloud, that the grief of it threatened to turn his tongue—and possibly his heart—to stone.

“I’m sorry.”

Will shook his head, his chest rising with the deep breath he took. “I hope you’re not convincing yourself that her death was somehow your fault.”

Emma’s lips pressed together, and her eyes trailed towards the camp, the faces of those she cared about. “Isn’t it?” she asked at last, quieter than she expected to be.

“No,” he said firmly. “I’m embarrassed to admit that I spent a few months bitter with your parents for not killing the Evil Queen when they had the chance, but I hardly had me head on straight back then.”

Her arms moved once more to fold over her chest, and she had to turn away from him, her eyes finding the treetops instead. “I’m bitter,” she confessed, “more than bitter, sometimes. Sometimes I hate them for it.”

“It’s not as though they’re responsible,” he said, and he wasn’t correcting her, or scolding her, he just spoke as if he were following along the same line of thought that she was. “They had power, at one time, to prevent it. Their kind hearts didn’t let them. But they are not the ones whose hands are pulling hearts out of bodies to kill mercilessly across the land. That’s the Evil Queen, and her alone.”

“You’re right,” Emma replied, though her voice caught at the end.

“But,” Will continued, saying the word she hadn’t, “that doesn’t stop the guilt.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

They listened to the buzz of insects that needled into the air, growing louder with the approach of summer, and it accompanied the low chatter humming from the middle of their camp. She’d been cold, so cold, when she’d first set out into the woods with Red a few months before, and it had permeated her bones, sent cutting shivers through her that some fires hadn’t been enough to stave off. It certainly wasn’t cold now, but sometimes her skin still tingled as though it were.

“I thought being on me own would help,” Will said abruptly, “that it would minimize the risk.” He paused to shift against the tree, as if the need to scan their surroundings had overpowered him. “Needless to say, it didn’t work.”

“We need people,” she added, knowing it was true.

“Even more, I think,” he said, “when we’re carrying around all that guilt. Gets too heavy.”

Emma sighed, long and weary. “Right now, it just feels selfish.”

“Selfish?” he repeated, glancing at her with furrowed brows. “We must have different definitions of the word, Captain, if you think what you’re doing is selfish.”

She looked away, her jaw tightening involuntarily. “I’m allowing people to put themselves in danger so that I have a better chance of survival.”

“No,” he snapped, though it lacked anger, “that’s not what this is. You’re fighting to take down a mass murderer, and every choice you’ve made on the way has been to further that cause. Selfish would be hiding, it would be cowardice. What you’re doing, it’s not selfish—it’s leadership. And when we save your kingdom and the others of this realm, you will understand that.”

She had no reply, because she knew he was right. Even if she didn’t feel it yet, it was true. How many times had her mother explained the sacrifices that came with ruling? How many times had she warned about difficult choices and the weight upon every decision?

Will pushed himself off the tree, his feet angled towards camp though he looked back at her over his shoulder. “That’s all I’ve to say,” he told her. “Don’t let that mind of yours keep you from your beauty sleep, Captain,” he said, heading back.

“Scarlet,” she called, and when he paused, looking at her expectantly, she added, “Thank you.”

Emma lingered only a few minutes more in her solitude, and when she slept that night, she was not haunted by dreams of the real or otherwise. It was far from a good sleep, but it was as close as she’d gotten in a while.

—

The dawn had only just broken when Emma gathered with some of the others in the largest tent just off center of their camp. The large table in the middle was covered with maps of the land, and they circled around it, the six of them joined by Robin, Little John, and Mulan.

“Now that you have had time to rest and receive treatment for your wounds,” Robin began, “I’d like to discuss how we might move forward. Emma, you mentioned that you had been seeking magical aid from Arendelle before the Evil Queen ransacked the kingdom?”

“Yes,” Emma replied. “We’ve been allies with Arendelle for years, even before we discovered that Queen Elsa had magic. We had hoped for her assistance, and we were heading towards the Dark One’s castle to find a looking glass in order to locate her.”

Robin nodded thoughtfully, considering the map before him. “What is your objective in finding Queen Elsa?” he asked. “What specific magical service might she provide?”

Her eyes flicked to Red, and a moment passed before Emma stepped around the table in search of another map. She found it partially concealed beneath some others, pulling it out so it lay where they could see.

“Nearly two months ago, Red and I found where my father had been taken,” she told them. “He is secured here—” she pointed to the place on the map, “—in a dungeon at the base of this mountain. Three outposts feed into guards outside the prison doors and within. Dozens of Black Knights walk the perimeter in a circuit from the dungeon to the western-most outpost, moving east and then returning to the dungeon.”

“Dozens?” Mulan asked, “Do you have a more specific number than that?”

Red joined Emma in front of the map, her hand moving to where Emma had indicated the center outpost to be. “This one holds the most, at least fifty at any given time. The others seem to have fewer, but not by much. Thirty, perhaps more. But there’s barracks here,” she paused, drawing a circle with her fingertip southwest of the dungeon. “It’s large, and they sleep in shifts, so it need only be half the size of the available knights.”

Killian’s hands braced on the table, his eyes narrowing at the map. “Round up, to be safe. Say the middle has sixty men, each side plus the prison has forty. That’s nearly two hundred men, not considering the ones off-duty.”

“No wonder you need magic,” Will grumbled.

“As talented of fighters as we may be, our numbers cannot withstand that kind of force,” Robin agreed.

“Queen Elsa has sufficient power for such a task,” Tink said.

Emma sighed, stepping back from the table and looking at her godmother. “If she’s in any position to help us.”

“It’s a risk, to be sure,” Robin said.

“Anyone else know of any benevolent magic users who could lend us their assistance?” Liam asked, and though his humor attempted to lighten the gravity of their situation, Emma was left with less hope than before.

Killian straightened, glancing at Emma. “You said it yourself, Captain. You’ve been allies for years. If this queen has magic that could help us, I believe it’s worth the risk. She is facing, I believe, a similar predicament to the one you find yourself in. I’m sure there could be no one more willing to fight for this cause than another who has faced its violence and lived to tell the tale.”

“He’s right,” Mulan said, “she’s invaluable. With the right forces behind her, she alone could turn this war in our favor.”

Emma hesitated, rolling it through her mind. More decisions. What sacrifices would they hold? Time? Resources? Lives?

She relaxed into her royal posture, trusting her gut. “I think we should find her. As her ally, it is my duty to ensure that she is protected and supported in times of need, even if she is unwilling to help us. However,” she said, her gaze locking with Killian’s, “if she has been thrown out by the Evil Queen, it’s likely that she will be prepared for a fight. Since she took her parents’ place, I’ve heard of Queen Elsa’s intense loyalty and the responsibility she feels for her people. I doubt she would allow this to remain unchecked.”

“You, Emma, will make an exceptional ruler,” Robin said, his eyes glimmering with fatherly pride.

“Let’s save my family and my kingdom, and then hopefully we can discover if that’s true in a decade or so when my parents step down,” she replied, bristling beneath the compliment.

“I’ll drink to that,” Will said.

Tink smacked his arm, “It’s barely past dawn.”

“Oi!” he cried, swatting her hand away.

Emma cleared her throat to silence them before turning back to Robin. “So we continue to the Dark One’s castle as planned?”

“Unless there are any objections,” he replied. “I will join you, and Little John will remain here in my absence. And I’m sure we’d never dream of keeping Mulan from the chance of a fight,” he teased, but there was no doubt of her abilities, of her skill with the sword strapped to her back.

“I should stay behind,” Tink said, curious eyes finding her. “While the injury I sustained yesterday is not life threatening, I could use more time to heal. I’d risk slowing you down.”

Emma frowned at the thought of leaving one of her own, even for a night or two. She didn’t like being separated from the ones she trusted, and though she hadn’t had the time or opportunity to grow as close to Tink as some of the others, she cared about her.

“A few days of rest will serve you well,” Robin said, turning to Emma. “She will be protected here, you have my word.”

“Of course,” Emma replied, nodding to Tink, “take the time you need.”

Robin patted Little John on the shoulder. “Good, now that���s all settled. I propose that we depart just as soon as we’ve eaten a hearty meal.”

—

The hearty meal had dragged into late morning, and Emma thought it was close to noon before they made any progress into their journey. Mulan had led the way, though Robin joined Emma just behind, and his good humor never ceased to amaze her.

“We will find all manner of magical objects in this castle, I’m sure,” he told her, anticipation alive in his voice.

“Then it may take some time for us to find what we’re looking for,” she replied, working hard not to be frustrated by the thought of another setback.

Robin hummed, unconcerned or trying to seem so. Instead of dwelling on that, he launched into a story about another magical object he’d come across in his days, and Emma didn’t mind the distraction.

When they stopped at a stream to refill canteens and waterskins a few hours later, Robin insisted that they take some time to rest and prepare for the rest of their hike until night fell. His stories had calmed her slightly, she’d found it comforting, but now that they’d stopped moving, her skin prickled with unprompted panic that she couldn’t control.

She felt as though they were targets, standing out in the open in the daylight, and the knights would descend at any moment. Every snap of a twig nearly made her flinch, and though she’d seen Robin approaching her from the corner of her eye, she still jumped when he spoke.

“You seem troubled by our pace,” he commented, keeping his voice below its usual volume. The others sat by the stream—with the exception of Mulan who stood guard—but Emma had found a log within view that kept her apart from them. Robin joined her, his eyes scanning their surroundings habitually.

“I’ll admit, I was hoping to have gotten an earlier start,” she said.

“As much as you’d like to, you cannot run ahead without ever stopping. You need time to rest, too.”

Emma shifted, crossing and uncrossing her legs. “I know. I just can’t stand not moving,” she told him.

Robin’s eyes found the ground in front of him for a long moment before he turned his gaze back to her. “I understand what you mean.”

“You think about him all the time, don’t you?” she nearly blurted, unable to stop herself from asking. “I miss my parents so much, but with Leo, it’s—”

“It’s different when you’re their protector,” he finished for her. “You feel responsible for it all, but more for your brother.”

She let out a shaky breath, feeling like she would crumble right there, shatter into bits and pieces that could never return to make a whole. “Waking up every day, knowing I failed him,” she murmured, “it makes it hard to breathe. Moving is better; it feels like progress.”

“It can’t always be,” Robin said sadly. “There is progress in rest, because it propels us forward once we’ve started again. Running at full speed without a break will only lead to exhaustion, and it will make you vulnerable to attack.”

Emma sighed, “You’re right.”

“I often am,” he replied, a playful smile on his lips. “Now, drink up, try to relax for a few more minutes, and then we will keep on till dark.”

—

She stared up at the stars, the ones she could make out between the leaves that rustled in the gentle breeze. Her mother had tried more than once to teach her all the stories, but Leo had been more interested, and she could only recall a few of the constellations. She saw one now, one that glowed steadily in the bigger opening several feet from where she lay, and it was the one of the dragon.

She’d been eleven or twelve, perhaps, when she’d stood on the balcony with her mother who had crouched down so their eyes were at the same level, and Emma could see the design in the stars that she spoke about.

It was a classic tale, one of love and loss, but it ended with victory, with True Love, with a dragon captured and displayed in the heavens. Emma wished she could remember the details now, as she lay at their camp for the night, unable to sleep yet again.

Robin and Mulan had claimed the watch, insisting that they were better rested than the others, and Emma had no energy left to fight it.

But now the tension returned to all of her muscles, and no matter how many stories she attempted to tell herself, she found no reprieve. She rose from her bedroll, snatching her canteen before meeting Mulan’s questioning gaze. Emma lifted it to signal her intent, and Mulan nodded, returning to her perusal of the forest.

Fresh water was one of the things that had drawn them to this particular spot, the stream that trickled two minutes away offered much needed replenishment of their supply. The air had been drier than usual for the time of year, and canteens had emptied quicker than they expected.

She knelt at the edge when she arrived, filling the water and taking a slow drink. When she was finished, she filled it once more, sealing it and tossing it onto the ground beside her. Her hands dipped into the rushing water, cupping to bring some up to her face. The cold did its job, grounding her, momentarily stalling the ever-present flicker of fear that lived within her.

Until movement rustled behind her.

Emma drew her dagger, cursing herself for leaving behind her sword, but when she spun, it was no one she’d ever want to hold a blade against.

Killian froze, meeting her gaze in the moonlight. He, at least, had remembered his sword. “You were gone a few minutes too long,” he told her, his voice soft. “I wanted to make sure you hadn’t come across any knights.”

She slid the blade back into her boot, pushing herself up to stand, though she did not close the space between them. Her feet were rooted to the ground, and she found no way to move them any closer.

“Thank you,” she said.

He nodded once, a single, controlled movement, and then he turned back in the direction of camp.

Disappointment rose in her chest, a bitter and ugly sensation, but she ignored it, bending instead to retrieve her canteen where she’d left it on the ground.

Fast, thudding footsteps barrelled towards her in the same direction as the stream, frantic cries pulling at her heart.

“No, no!” the voice called, “Please, no!”

A woman came into view, an oversized sword held in her hands, and she skidded to a stop twenty feet or so from Emma. Tears dampened her cheeks, and now that she was closer, Emma could see that her hands were smeared and dark—blood.

The woman’s distress turned sharply into anger fueled by fear, and she moved forward with purpose, her sword pointed to Emma. “Who are you?” she demanded, desperation in her voice while her hands trembled.

Emma wanted to take a step back, but the stream kept her from it, and turning her back to a sword was never something she would do. She swallowed, raising her hands in surrender. “My name is Emma.”

“Did you see them? Are you working with them? Tell me where they went!” she snapped, creeping towards Emma.

“Who?”

Her response was prevented by the arm that wrapped around her from behind, a blade pressing against her throat. “Drop your weapon,” Killian ordered, and the woman obeyed immediately.

“Please,” she begged, almost a sob, “please, they took my sister. Or—at least, I think they took her. They tried to take her, and she ran to keep me safe, but they attacked us anyway, and he…” She had gotten more and more emotional as she went on, and she could no longer form words.

Killian released her instantly, quick to pick up the fallen sword and pass it to Emma before he put himself between them. “Who attacked you?” he asked. Gone was the anger, the threat from when he’d first spoken to her, replaced by urgency and compassion.

“The Black Knights!”

Emma’s world shuddered, and she spun, searching for the danger, for any sign of them nearby. “Killian,” she said, her voice low in warning.

“Aye,” he agreed, not needing to hear the rest. “We’ll help you,” he told the woman. “What’s your name? Your sister’s?”

She reached up to swipe a few tears from her cheek, blood painting her face. “I’m Anna,” she said. “And Elsa—my sister’s name is Elsa.”

[hallucinateonpaperspines]

I'm kinda debating putting a RDR2 crossover out there, but I don't know if this is something that only works in the recesses of my brain or actually workable... it would defiantly be crack like no tomorrow and would not include the bots. Maybe? still figuring out details.

ehm, an actual fic would be a long ways off and I've been working on this sparingly on the side (OUAT and the next OT&T is actively being worked on, exam madness is over so I want to release one of them before Monday!) but I'm just kinda interested so see if there would be any interest in some gunslinger hijinks.

Soooooo

Ashlyn, Jack, Miko, and Raf are all transported to RDR2 via mission gone wrong/weird cave drawings/MC luck

Ashlyn figures out what happened pretty quickly (she should be getting a universe hoping punch card at this rate)

She does not realize that she isn't alone.

Cue one Ms Moore galavanting around the RDR map while the Kids stick around the Vander Linde gang and are Very Confused.

The Kids experience includes;

Jack being renamed "Big Jack" since Jack Marston complains that it's HIS name. Jack is just having a moment. He's pretty sure he was found and rescued by a cult.

Jack joins Charles on a hunting mission, only to find the previously missing Miko impersonating a bush and doing a surprisingly decent job seeking up on the deer. Miko goes on to join the gang with Jack. She keeps trying to sneak into robberies. Hosea always catches her, and she emerges from very comical locations.

Raf initially panics. Then finds himself at a poker table at a train station. Luck is is only a game of statistics and Raf knows numbers. Becomes the Poker King, the nervous face IS his poker face. Overtime he learns everbodies business. Nice side effect of being the only sober gambler in the state. And the youngest. Via this, he turns up at the camp one day. Swanson's like *surprised pikachu face* He hears rumors about a strange cryptid running around and is like "Yeah that checks out. It's Ashlyn."

Meanwhile Ashlyn Moore is;

Roaming the wilderness treasure hunting and gives Downes's house a gold bar. Just pops up in every other town doing side quests. Stories start spreading about the wild thing looking for the Hooch man.

Eventially captured by O'Driscolls. Probably for insulting their vests, refusing to pay a bridge toll, or making some very interesting insults about not being able to rob a potato. That camp doesn’t exist anymore.

At some point, Micah and Ashlyn meet- or fight as a first meeting. She bites. He was not expecting this. Says she must have rabies, this incurred further wrath. Ashlyn is brought to the camp by Micah, saying she’s an O'Driscoll (kids are absent for the time). The girl proceeds to call out every manipulative sentence and asks for a step-by-step torture breakdown.  Poor Kieran is getting flashbacks whenever she brings up gelding. Begins to creep everyone out when she keeps moving in the night. Still tied to a tree, but it’s a different tree.  Mentions scary camping statistics (how many bugs crawl into the ear). The hotel gains a lot of business suddenly.

Ashlyn finally meets Dutch and the look in her eyes makes the kids panic. Spiderman meme is done when Ashlyn realizes others also came with her.

Ashlyn plays poker. She does not know how to play poker, but she keeps winning. Everyone is convinced she’s either cheating or a poker master while Raf is calculating how some of these moves are possible. Arthur finds this hilarious when she asks what the discs mean. Micah’s brain stops working.

Pulls The Batman references via el rata, Javier loses his mind about the incorrect Spanish. So does Raf. Bonding ensures via trying to keep Ashlyn’s mouth shut.

At a certain point, Ashlyn would make eye contact with Dutch while dropping a gold bar in the donation box. Bonus points if he's in the middle of a moneh rant.

"Who'd ya rob for that, missy?"

"A police station."

She's not telling him its the burned out one down the road.

[cssns]

We’re back, y’all!!! Please help me welcome @spartanguard to the CSSNS23!!!

What’s your Tumblr?

@spartanguard​

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

A looong time--I watched the show live for its entire run, but didn't become super active until fall 2014 (4a).

When did you start shipping Captain Swan?

I don't know that I can fully pinpoint a moment, but sometime during 3A. (And my answer to that changes constantly, haha)

What drew you to this event?

The same thing that drew me to OUAT in the first place--I love seeing different takes on fairy tales/fantasy, especially against the backdrop of the real world, and love seeing what new adventures we can all take Emma & Killian on.

What inspired your topic?

So I've technically been working on this story since 2015. IIRC, there was a mirror-image manip going around of Colin on set, which brought up the theory of two Killians in my friend group. Which prompted one of them (I believe it was @kat2609) to send an anonymous ask regarding the shenanigans that Killian and his double/twin could get up to. (Note that this was long before the Wish Realm was even thought of, so well before there actually were two Killian Joneses in canon.) I kind of ran with the idea at the time, but then hit some dead ends when the 5A storyline resolved different than anticipated. It sat for a very long time until I finally came up with a workaround sometime last year. and now it's almost done!

If you would like to share a snippet/sneak peek/summary of your fic or artwork, please use the space below.

"I'm disappointed in you." The man almost sounded sad.

"As I told the asshole in the diner, you don't know me." He groggily sat up to stare the man down; a sheriff's badge gleamed from where it was hooked to his jeans, below crossed arms and a stern glare.

"I know you plenty well, pirate." He'd been called many things, but that was a new one. "How could you do this to Emma?"

Who? "Who the f*ck is Emma?" Something weird was going on, but his brain hurt too much to process it.

"I the f*ck am Emma," came a feminine voice from the hallway, followed by the clack of boot heels as she approached. The sheriff ran in her direction, stopping her before she came into view.

"Emma, hold on; I have to tell you something."

"Dad, what's going on?" His vision was blearier than he thought if he hadn't noticed that the man was old enough to have an adult daughter.

The rest of their conversation was too quiet for him to hear, so he slumped back against the concrete wall and glanced around the station.

The sheriff came back, followed by his daughter. Ooh, now there was a sight. A gorgeous blonde came into view, a vision in a red leather jacket. Now why wasn't she at the bar last night? A much better bedfellow she would have made.

Until he saw that she, too, wore a sheriff badge. Law enforcement was an immediate turnoff.

She wore a concerned look on her face as she slowly approached his holding cell. It seemed as if she was studying his face, searching for something. But she must have come up empty, as relief flooded her features, followed quickly by confusion.

"That's not him."

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

Seeing all the great stories and gorgeous art everyone comes up with!

I’m so thrilled that Kaitlyn is back participating again this year! Her MC featuring Killian’s evil twin will be dropping on Wednesday July 5! Everyone go say hi and welcome her back!

[koreofkore]

Once upon a Time

The marvel version of ouat. In which Natasha Romanoff casts a curse to get her happy ending. This is a swan queen like fic. Natasha is the Regina Mills and my MC Asena takes the role of Emma Swan. A few things have changed Henry will still become Yelena because. As stated before Nat will take up the role of Regina and Asena takes up Emma's role, and everyone else's roles will fall into place. In this AU Yelena isn't Natasha's sister but her daughter. And a few things in here will be changed most of it is minor. I will be referring to this as the enchantment au and there will eventually be smut.

✰⋆｡:ﾟ･*☽:ﾟ･⋆｡✰⋆｡:ﾟ･*☽:ﾟ･⋆｡✰⋆｡:ﾟ･*☽

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

[mayarab]

WIP List (Tag Game)

I was tagged by @the-grim-and-sanguine - You can see their post here!

RULES: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

OH LORD HERE WE GO

ORIGINAL

The Queen & the Demon

Just Another City

Chaos Magic Kaijus

Guardiãs de Primália

Better! Twilight aka Vampires in Rio

Warylk

Conto Avantesma

Continuação de Journey Home / A Caminho de Casa

Contos Andarilhos

D&D Romance

Fantasy Heist

Space Adventure

Aline

Obsessão

O Santuário de Liara

Reminisce

Queer Greek Myths + Fairytale Retellings

Melting Pot of Ideas

#SuperQueerWIP

Crônicas de Irhullan

Foi por Acaso

Swordswoman & her Wizard GF

Shape-shifter & Hunter

Demissexuais & Dinos + 2 Girls, Music, Books and Internet

Story Engine Anthology

The Golden Queen

A Garota e o Dragão

Alathea

Demon Soul

A/B/O but with actual wolf social structure

Chaotic God + Necromancy + Chaotic MC

Bruxas Latinas + Witches in Saquarema

Isekai Scout

The Untamed x Inuyasha

Portal Book

CdZ inpired Mess

Hunted Siblings

Kingdom Hearts x OUaT

Chosen One Academy

Daughter of the Chosen One

Magic People

Isekai Brazuka

Anna & Milla

Mage & Prince

Warylk AU (Makhy lives)

Warylk Coffe Shop AU (Gods Edition v1 - with powers)

Warylk Coffe Shop AU (Gods Edition v2 - no powers)

COMICS

Pimpim Café

Garotas Mágicas RPG

O Sonho de Nina

Ace of Cakes

To Be Human

I Heal Hearts

Escola Mágica + Criaturas Sobrenaturais

FANFIC

Inuyasha Mermaid AU

Year of the OTP 2023 InuKag

Bond

The Heart of the Miko

Memory Loss

Shikon Strike Force

Inuyasha dies and KagMirSan try to bring him back

Inuyasha HighSchool AU

Kagome MD

SessSan KindergartenGod

InuKagMirSan Polycule

Inuyasha x Pokémon

Prophetic Dreams

Inuyasha Beauty & the Beast

A hanyou birthed by a female Youkai

Inuyasha Retelling Sequel

Polyam Kag/San

ATLA: Twin Avatars

Inuyasha VTuber

Inuyasha sends a video masturbating to Kagome by mistake

Inuyasha + Sell Your Haunted House

Inuyasha + FFVII Remake

Inukag song fic - Give your heart a break - Demi Lovato

GAMES

Viking Punk

Whimsical Life

On the Shoulders of Giants

Avantesma

Esperanthya 5e Setting

Sparkles & Wonder

Azure Garden

Witch’s Workshop 2.0

Digital Deckbuilding Card Game

DnD Character Creator

Match 3 Mobile-style game SEM MONETIZAÇÃO AGRESSIVA

Runeterra Hack

NON-FICTION

Assexualidade e Esteriótipos

I'm just gonna tag a few people under the cut AND WHOEVER ELSE WANTS TO DO THIS THING BECAUSE THERE'S NO WAY I CAN TAG T HIS MANY OMG I HAD NEVER LISTED IT ALL OUT LIKE THIS HELP

tags: @artemis-devotee @anisaanisa @ruddcatha @razdazberry @atelierwriting @akiwitch @mauvelilywilliams @bia-sa @ninaescreve @autielivros @saphoblin

[spartanguard]

Rules: Go to your published works on AO3 and list the first fic you ever published there, the last fic you published, any fic that you wrote for a fandom/ship only once, your favorite fic you wrote in the fandom/ship that has the most works, the fic you wish more people read, the fic you agonized over the most, the fic that sprang fully formed from your mind without any effort, and a work you are proud of—for whatever reason. <3

Tagged by @shireness-says (thank you, darling Dev!!!)

First fic: Drunk Dial (okay, it's not actually my first fic on AO3, but I posted it on tumblr first). It's exactly the kind of silliness I was into at the time.

Last fic: I'll be posting the final chapter of Sons of Love and Death tomorrow (though I highly doubt it will be my "last"--as in final--fic; just need the muse to focus on something)

Only once: All my fics have been for OUAT, and the vast majority Captain Swan, but I wrote two fics for crackships: A Pair of Barflies (Captain Beauty) and True Love is Like a Beard: It Grows (Captain Charming--romantic, which I need to specify because there are quite a few brotp fics in there).

Favorite fic from the fandom I’ve written in most: You mean I have to pick? I usually say Savage Garden, but it might be overtaken by Sons of Love and Death...but probably only because it's more recent.

Fic I wish more people read: All of them, haha. But particularly Sons of Love and Death and Most Wanted. They were both a lot of fun to play with different kinds of magic and worldbuilding.

Fic I agonized over: Sons of Love and Death started from a tumblr prompt sent to me in September 2015 and didn't see the light of day until July 2023. So definitely that one. (But let's be real, just about all of my MC fics.) Shoutout also goes to Two Booksellers of Storybrooke because I had to brush up on Shakespeare a LOT.

Fic that sprang fully formed: A good number of one-shots--particularly the ones inspired by songs (which I will be adding to soon)--but also Partners, because binge-watching SVU does that to a person.

Work(s) I’m proud of: SEVERAL! All of the above, for starters, but here's a few more:

A Tall Tail: My first MC/'verse (because it ended up expanding from there) and what got me any kind of following as a writer. I'd never tackled anything like that--let alone being new to fanfic writing--so that I was able to pull it off still amazes me.

Something In The Water: aka Mermaid Killian 2. Because pulling that off in a modern setting was incredibly fun.

Spinning Together: I just love that I was able to put together CS and colorguard (my other passion).

It's Getting Hard to be Someone: This was an idea that had been floating around forever and I'm really happy with the way it turned out when I finally got to write it.

I could keep going but I'd be here a while. But we all know that when we write something, we usually put a part of us into it, so it's hard not to have a fondness for all of them!

Tagging: @optomisticgirl @initiala @ohmightydevviepuu @kmomof4 and whoever else wants to do this!

[emkay512]

Just For Tonight

What if it had been Liam’s idea to have house Beaumont sponsor Riley in his social season? And what was Liam’s night like after he dropped off Riley in the very first chapter?

A/N: I watch a lot of rom-coms and chick flicks and couldn’t stop thinking about Liam and came up with this 🙃 This exists in my OUAT universe, so I’m using those tags, I hope that’s ok and you enjoy!

Thank you at @sfb123 and @queenrileyrose for pre-reading and giving me that extra confident boost! I think I was marinating on this too long! Lol 😅

Warnings: Some language, but that’s about it.

Tags: @burnsoslow @bbrandy2002 @ao719 @kat-tia801 @sincerelyella @charlotteg234 @neotericthemis @queenrileyrose @kingliam2019 @iaminlovewithtrr @amandablink @iluaaa @jared2612 @sfb123 @twinkleallnight @tessa-liam @secretaryunpaid @ladyangel70 @gkittylove99 @texaskitten30 @shanzay44 @ofpixelsandscribbles

Word count: 1,676

Liam’s head was swimming. He and Riley just piled into a cab to escort her back to her apartment after their midnight rendezvous with the Statue of Liberty. That kiss she gave him on the ferry had him dizzy, he was losing his inner fight to remember his duty bound responsibilities and wanted to embrace her again, but he also didn’t want to lead Riley on.

As if Riley was reading his mind, she broke the silence and asked, “hey, Liam?” Liam focused his gaze on her in reply, “what if just for tonight, we indulge in ourselves a little?” Liam lifted his brow in confusion.

“How do you mean?”

Riley was feeling quiet vulnerable with her idea, but in keeping with her own suggestion, she explained, “I have a feeling about you. That you’re used to putting your priorities and desires dead last in life. I’m even a little afraid that you may come to regret this night with me because you will convince yourself you had over indulged by allowing a little personal pleasure in your life. I’m saying, don’t do that. And I won’t either. I’m not sorry for opening up to a prince I know I’ll never see again. So… so how about you do the same?” Riley felt her cheeks blush and she looked up at him to see his eyes soften, knowing he was moved and would agree.

“Ok.” Liam smiled genuinely, she was completely right, and now thanks to her, he wouldn’t allow himself to feel any shame for enjoying this night. “Ok, Ms. Riley Brooks, I’ll do the same. Just for tonight, I will feel no shame for enjoying myself, for letting my heart call the shots for once.”

“Good.” Riley almost felt her eyes well up with tears from both the most sincere happiness she was feeling mixed with sadness of the night ending. Just then, the cab slowed to a stop right in front of her stoop. “Well, this is me. Good night, Liam. Thank you for the unforgettable evening.”

“Riley,” was all he could whisper before they both leaned in, closed their eyes, and surrendered into their goodnight kiss. Liam had relaxed completely, and it was Riley that deepened the kiss. She had parted her lips for him and he allowed himself to touch his tongue to hers, reveling in her sweet taste. He took one hand to cup her cheek and his other hand around her waist, both hands pressing her body as close to his as possible.

At the sound of the cabbie clearing his throat, they parted, both a little out of breathe. With smiles on both their faces, they said at the same time, “well, good night.”

They awkwardly laughed, and Riley touched her hand to his 5 o’clock shadow and said, “I think you are amazing, and thank you again for tonight.” She offered him the sweetest smile and then moved to exit the cab.

Liam replied as she was making her move out, “goodnight, Ms. Riley, and just so you know, I will never regret this night.” It was the right thing to say, as he saw nothing but elation on her face as she gently shut the car door and turned to walk into her apartment.

After giving the cabbie the name of his hotel, Liam leaned back in the backseat of the cab with nothing but stars in his eyes. He couldn’t believe the night he just had, and he was too far gone in his euphoria that he wouldn’t allow himself to think back to the reality that awaits him. Just for tonight. Just like they had said. He would allow himself to close out this night on his love sick high.

Upon his arrival back to the suite he was sharing with his friends, Maxwell was the only one still up. Liam could swear that his good, cheery, friend, Maxwell Beaumont, operated on constant energizer bunny batteries and actually didn’t sleep.

“Well, well, well… couldn’t quiet pull off the next-morning-walk-of-shame, my prince?” Maxwell knew Liam hated the formalities among his friends so he knew right away that Maxwell was in a full ball-busting mood. But Liam didn’t care. And to his dismay, Maxwell noticed. “Whoa. What the hell is that dopey look on your face!? You did get laid??” Maxwell was sincerely perplexed because he knew that a one night quickie was unlike Liam, but he could think of no other explanation.

Liam chuckled and shrugged, knowing he was unable to shake the grin off his face. No, he didn’t get laid. But he did get kissed. Twice. By a woman he knew he wouldn’t shake from his thoughts, for probably the rest of his life. Just for tonight. He continued the mantra in his mind. He’d let his mind wander to the idea of seeing her again. “Calm down, Max. She just showed me a very lovely evening. She pulled off a trip to the Statue of Liberty. Just for me.” Maxwell was not missing the stars in Liam’s eyes and couldn’t resist in fucking with him a little more.

“Huh, so your tryst involved another lady? Ya know, Lady Liberty? Kinky.” Liam rolled his eyes, that’s not even creative or funny, he thought to himself. “Wait, so how in the hell did you pull that off? I know you get shit done, but a last minute late night boat ride in a foreign country to impress a girl? How did you do it?”

“I didn’t. It was all the other way around. She called in a favor to impress me, and as you can see, I was quiet taken.”

“Well damn, sister’s got some moves! I mean, look at you, I’ve never seen you so smitten!” Maxwell was still muttering some mockeries at Liam, something about Liam being a smitten kitten. But it was something else he said that stuck out to Liam. Sister. Maxwell had call her a sister. After a second, a wild idea popped into Liam’s mind.

“That’s it! That’s it, Maxwell you genius!” Maxwell blinked up at Liam, very unsure what part of his rambles got Liam so excited. “House Beaumont still needs a sponsor for the social season, right?”

“Uh, yeah. That’s right.” Maxwell was clearly not putting two and two together.

“Catch up, Beaumont! Her! Riley! What do you think? We could catch up with her in the morning and ask her to join the season under your house. Well?”

Maxwell was grinning from ear to ear. He thought it was such a good idea that he was disappointed he didn’t think of it. “You’re on. You and I can find her in the morning before your early flight back and if she says yes, I’ll bring her back here to get the guys caught up and she’ll fly back with us.”

“Genius! Ah, I could kiss you right now Maxwell! I’m gonna try to catch some sleep before the morning.” Liam said while pumping his fist in excitement and he half jogged into a separate room to fall asleep.

The next morning, Liam and Maxwell caught sight of Riley walking up to her bar. Maxwell still had a curious amount of energy in him and next thing Liam knew, he was jogging ahead to Riley with his hand in the air to get her attention. “Hey! Hey, Riley!” Liam kept his pace as Maxwell rushed ahead.

Riley whipped around to see Maxwell charging at her. “Oh, hey. It’s you. One of Liam’s friends, Maxwell, right?”

“Yep! Good memory! Anyway I’m glad I caught you. I’m here because I want to formally invite you to Cordonia to participate in all the festivities for Liam. Normally you wouldn’t be allowed to join, but I want to sponsor you!” Maxwell could see the shock and confusion on her face as he continued to explain. “I’m from a noble house, but I don’t have any sisters so we don’t have anyone in contention to marry the prince. Instead we get to pick any girl to sponsor, and I pick you!”

“Wh-why me?”

“I’m not doing it just for you.” Just then Liam caught up and strode into the scene.

“Good morning, Ms. Riley Brooks.” Liam used his most husky and calm voice possible. He knew he was about to be asking a lot out of her.

Riley instantly picked up Liam’s voice as he walked up and greeted her, “Liam? What are you doing here?”

Liam approached and grabbed her hand, bringing it up to his lips for a quick kiss. He met her eyes as he explained, “I’m here to do the same thing my good friend, Maxwell, is here doing. I want to convince you to come to Cordonia. Everything he said is true. You can participate as his sponsor.” Riley moved her eyes from Liam and looked just over his shoulder at Maxwell, she was trying to decide if he was someone she could trust and someone whose house she wanted to join. She saw a very promising and honest smile on his face, and she felt comfortable. She then looked back to Liam, who was still holding her hand.

“I… I don’t know.. that’s a big commitment..”

“Look,” Liam said quickly not wanting to lose his momentum. “I’ll level with you, Cordonia won’t be like New York, but there’s something about you. About us, that I trust. There’s something here Riley, why not give it a shot. Come on, I know you feel it too.”

She most certainly felt it too and she thought about last night and the opportunity that could be ahead of her, versus her current shitty bartending life in New York, and she came to her decision. “Ok,” she smiled and looked him in the eye, “I’m in.”

“Yes!” Maxwell shouted from behind them, “go pack your bags, this is going to be the adventure of a lifetime!”

Riley looked at Liam and said, “I guess we’re shooting for more than just for tonight, huh?”

Liam replied, “heh, yeah I guess you’re right.”

[snowbellewells]

Self Promo Sunday: "Run to Me (in the Dead of Night"

This week's re-run of @cssns fics is also from the inaugural run back in 2018. I'd had the idea for it running around in my head for quite some time, and the @cssns finally gave me the opportunity and the push to finally get it started. This one is an MC that picks up around the time the original curse broke in Storybrooke (end of season one/start of season two) and then goes wildly divergent. And there are werewolves... ;)

If you haven't read this before, I hope you will check it out and enjoy it now. I've always been rather proud of it. And definitely be stunned and amazed by the artwork created for me by @wingedlioness. I'm still thrilled just staring at it. <3

It can be read from the beginning HERE on Tumblr,

HERE on AO3, and HERE on ff.net

 By: @snowbellewells (TutorGirlml on ff.net)

 ~~ prologue: leaves on the wind

           The crisp fall air of late September blew Emma Swan’s long, golden curls back over her shoulders and off her neck, tangling them together and causing a shiver to skitter through her as the chilly breeze of early evening glanced along her bared skin. Even as she clattered down the front steps of the diner, eager to get out of the rather close and over-warm space and the heavy, grease-scented air, she still felt it: the sense that had been following her around lately, more than any simple gossip or slander would account for, resting heavy on her shoulder, of being watched.  Glancing around the outdoor seating area of Granny’s and down the quiet main street, deserted but for a few leaves blown here and there and Marco tinkering with the sign that hung over the door of his repair shop and pausing on his ladder to offer her a friendly wave and doff of his cap.

           Emma tried to shrug off the troubling impression; eerie though it was, she wasn’t sure that it wasn’t just some manifestation of her own jumbled thoughts and fears, a tingling in her bones that had been discomforting her ever since the curse broke, almost a week ago now.  Willing her hard-earned nerve and bravado to reassert themselves, Emma rolled her eyes at herself and how she had just mentally referred to the curse that had changed everything she’d come to know on its head as casually as if it were laundry day or a trip to the movies – just a regular little life-altering occurrence – and gathered the still warm carryout bags Ruby had pressed into her arms just a moment before closer to her chest as she picked up her brisk pace down the sidewalk.  Something in her psyche wanted to kick her for running as she left Storybrooke’s most popular eatery behind her, but Emma honestly wasn’t in the mood.

           The tiny hairs along the back of her neck prickled as she crossed the opening of the alley between Gold’s pawn shop and the library.  She threw a glance down the dim space, but told herself to relax and blew out a frustrated breath before squaring her shoulders and moving on. Whatever sort of creepy premonition vibe she was picking up on lately, it simply had to be in her head.  For one thing, this was the smallest, sleepiest, stuck-in-the-eighties town ever; beyond fights at the local watering hold between whom she now knew were three of her mom’s dwarves and guys she had learned were Jack Sprat, Tom Thumb and a definitely not-so-little Jack Horner, and the occasional clichéd kitten up a tree, nothing ever happened here – or at least, nothing of the normal criminal variety.  Besides, she already knew who the supposed villains were – and she was well-acquainted with the fact that skulking around subtly wasn’t any of their styles.

           No, the sense she felt was probably that same one she had experienced some time back, when Mayor Mills had run her smear campaign trying to overturn Emma’s appointment as deputy. Then, it had been judgmental eyes on her back and whispers that ceased when she walked into a room; now it was awkwardly hushed awe and averted eyes or slight bows when she tried to approach a group casually, and still the constant scrutiny – ill meant or not – and whispers, probably about how unprincess-like she, as their long lost princess, had turned out to be. In any case, the way it made Emma’s skin crawl uncomfortably really didn’t change that much from one case to the other.

           Curling she and Graham’s dinner more protectively into her elbow, Emma sighed resignedly as she walked on, kicking at a stick on the pavement at her feet. Thinking back to those unpleasant weeks when she had almost given in, packed up, and moved on, the upheaval of the last several days didn’t seem quite so intense.  Back then, it had seemed as though she was clinging to her tenuous bond with Henry by such a fragile, thin thread.  Graham offering her the deputy sheriff position – and thus a legitimate reason to remain in town – had been a genuine boon, and when it had seemed as though that might slip through her fingers too – as good things always seemed to do in her life – Emma had almost hit the road once more. She’d been so close to taking off back to Boston, or anywhere really, it didn’t matter… she was always going to be alone.

           No matter where she went, people never truly changed that much.  Emma had learned that long ago, though Henry’s boundless optimism and the quaint little town’s charm had almost let her forget. It never got easier to ignore the labels that had followed her for most of her life – brought back to glaring focus by the newspaper expose Henry’s adoptive mother had ordered in her bid to see Emma ousted from her new town role. ‘Runaway’, ‘Thief’, ‘Orphan’, ‘Hussy’, ‘Teen Mom’, ‘Jail Bird’…those nasty words dogged her steps for the few days after the paper’s publication in the suspicious narrowing of eyes and disapproving pursing of lips as much as in any audible speech.  For all too many moments, it had looked as though the little berg she had begun to hope could be a real home was going to turn its back on her. No matter how far or fast she ran, the barbed tips of both truth and rumor about her never failed to pierce Emma’s hard-won armor.  She might be good at pretending the wounds didn’t sting, but she knew now more than ever that she would do well not to forget just how quickly the tide of public opinion could turn.

  ��        Even now, with the curse broken, and her tentatively coming to believe that she had not been an unwanted infant abandoned carelessly on the side of some deserted road, the lost little girl inside her still flinched at cruel jabs both real and imagined; there would never be enough time passed to make that completely go away.  The childhood and adolescence she had weathered was an inner wound that would always draw blood – even as getting to know Henry, his forgiveness for her giving him up, his boundless blind faith in her, and meeting her parents after all the years lost, and learning how desperately they had indeed loved and wanted her, how they’d had no other choice but to give her what seemed her best chance and believe they would be reunited someday; even all those truths being brought home to her couldn’t undo everything else she had known before.

           Upon reaching the sheriff’s station at last, Emma raised her chin from where she had buried it in her collar against the chilly wind and her hair being whipped across her face and into her eyes.  She turned the knob and pushed into the station’s dingy and antiquated entryway, also finally shedding the odd sensation of eyes following her as she entered the squat cinderblock building.  She could feel her mood lift slightly almost at once.  In truth, this was the first job she had genuinely enjoyed doing in years – not only because she was good at it and got paid well, but for the fulfillment and sense of purpose it brought. Clearly, Graham had needed the second pair of hands; they’d be putting the filing back in order until next December, and the man couldn’t make a decent pot of coffee without somehow getting grounds in it to save himself.  Still, he respected her and they worked well together.  Emma was determined not to let down her guard and grow too comfortable again, but this sleepy little hamlet could almost feel something like a place to belong – not a description she would ascribe to any of the other places she had landed before.

           A wry smile curled her lips just before she called out to let Graham know she was back with their food.  She certainly wouldn’t take back Henry’s appearance on her doorstep and his bringing her here – whatever happened next.  And watching the first real friend – outside of her 10-year-old and her own mother – she had made in years muttering to himself in his office, rifling through the haphazard piles of paperwork stacked all over his desk and running an occasional frustrated hand to swipe his errant curls off his forehead, she grinned even more warmly. They had exchanged one kiss – some months back now – but had decided to simply remain friends rather than risk the comfortable working relationship they shared and Henry’s hurt, as he cared so much for both of them, if it failed.  They had somehow managed to simply go on as if it were a one-time gesture of affection and remain the partners and friends they were – for which she was constantly grateful.  Graham was warm, open, supportive, and just lighthearted enough to crack truly awful jokes simply to see her roll her eyes, snort, and smile, but he was also capable and as driven as she was, determined to do their jobs well and protect those in their charge.

           Stepping into the doorway of the lamp lit office, Emma had raised her hand to knock on the frame, but Graham looked up alertly before she could even complete the motion; hazel-deep eyes finding hers unerringly as if he had sensed or scented her presence before it could be humanly possible.  She used to marvel at the uncanny ability her boss possessed; be it hearing, smell, or some other awareness, it was impossible to sneak up on him or catch him by surprise.  Of course, now that the curse was broken, Emma knew, though she was still trying to wrap her head around it, that it was his werewolf nature allowing him that ability – his lupine senses were heightened and made him effectively alert and aware of everything. Smirking slightly she had to admit to herself that wasn’t at all a bad skill set for a sheriff to possess.

           Shuffling forward almost bashfully, Emma held out the to-go bag in explanation, even as Graham waved her in without question, a welcoming smile on his scruffy face and stood to pull the visitor’s chair facing his desk over to the end of it where they could eat together more comfortably.  Graham took the still steaming brown bag that Ruby had handed her with an understanding and apologetic smile not five minutes before and began to spread their meal out on his desk.  They’d shared their evening meal right there nearly every night they both worked since he had hired Emma, and it was a settling bit of routine normalcy that soothed her jangled nerves as she sunk into the seat before her.

           Graham looked up at her with a grateful crooked smile and the bright eyes that Emma would challenge anyone not to be charmed by (there was a reason she had kissed him that one time after all).  “Thank you, Deputy,” he quipped, a playful emphasis on her title.  “It was definitely time for a break.” He gestured at the stacks of files and paperwork all over his desk at those words.

           Once they had both settled into their seats, Graham didn’t hesitate to take a huge bite out of the Philly Steak hoagie he’d ordered, munching happily and even closing his eyes in bliss with a low hum of satisfaction deep in his chest. For a moment, Emma could only watch, trying to remember if her friend – for all that he looked so trim and wiry – had always had such a voracious appetite and she merely didn’t notice before, or if it was a trait of his recently reacquired wolf within.  She was still sometimes too stunned to believe that both he and his adopted sister Ruby, her two closest friends in Storybrooke beyond her parents (that was taking some adjustment too) could both shift into large wolves by the light of the moon. They had been born with the ability in the Enchanted Forest, and that side had merely been buried along with their true identities while under the curse.  It was why Graham’s birth parents had abandoned him in the woods – or so he had told her, as he could only assume when he didn’t even remember them – to be found by a preteen Ruby on one of her nightly runs and brought back to live with she and Granny, folded into their little family as simply as if he had already belonged there.  Emma had yet to see either of them transform, but she also knew in her bones that neither of them would lie to her.  She had simply attempted to reconcile this one more bit of her new normal in her mind and move on without treating her friends any differently; even if, in moments like that, she did gawp at them in wonder.  “That good, huh?” she finally managed with a chuckle, amused enough by his good natured enthusiasm and almost child-like joy to put aside her own cross mood and paranoia of being followed.

           Then, she bit into her own first taste of Granny Lucas’ unparalleled onion rings and let out her own ecstatic moan at the hot, crisp, greasy goodness on her tongue.  Graham laughed out loud in response, the whooping, uncalculated ring of it doing much to completely repair Emma’s clouded outlook.  “I don’t know,” the sheriff countered her previous jest saucily, “you tell me.”

           Emma nodded enthusiastically, her own eyes alight as well, and her mouth full of her first buttery toasted bite of Granny’s grilled cheese.  When she could speak again, she conceded gladly, “Yep, you’re right.  Granny’s is the best – and Ruby slipped bacon on here for me again.  It’s like Heaven between two slices of bread!”

           Graham snickered at her creative praise, and the two of them settled into a comfortable silence, busily munching on the food spread out before them and humming in pleased enthusiasm.  Once they were finished, Emma began gathering up wrappers and napkins as Graham sat back contentedly in his chair, wiping crumbs from his front with his hand and grinning at his deputy in full-stomached satisfaction.  “Well, that hit the spot,” he stated cheerily, eyes sparkling when she nodded in agreement with his words.  He paused a moment, as if uncertain whether he should voice what he was about to say or not, then added, “I’m glad.  You look a lot happier than you did when you first came back in here.”

           Though she truly attempted not to – had long since decided in the months she and Graham had worked together side-by-side that the good hearted sheriff was trustworthy – Emma felt herself stiffen and begin to close off.  She didn’t need any more concern over her emotional state and how she was dealing; her mother was doing enough of that to serve for a dozen people.  The barrier she threw up was almost involuntary, no matter how well-intentioned she knew her boss was.  Old habits were hard to break, and even more so when she felt half the time as if the town’s very borders were closing in on her, that she would never find “normal” again, and as if her every move was being scrutinized and probably coming up well short of what must have been expected in a long lost royal.

           To his credit, the soft-spoken lawman didn’t push and delve into further questions.  He backed up slightly, hands raised in appeal, before lifting a file from the stack before him and turning to put it in the corner cabinet, offering her a bit more space as if he had read her mind. ‘No, more likely he sensed the fear or frustration on me,’ her mind supplied unhelpfully, remembering his heightened shifter senses once more.  Though he had his foster sister, and Granny, and Henry blatantly adored him, trailing after the sheriff or begging him to ride along on patrols, Graham seemed like a somewhat reluctant loner himself.  Emma sensed he understood self-protective walls and keeping others at arm’s length all too well, even if she didn’t know everything he had been through. He might be willing to listen, but he clearly wouldn’t force her to talk.

           She could ask him how he seemed to know, seemed to be on the outside looking in, but it really wasn’t fair when she was unwilling to share in return. Ruby had explained to her once – on an ill-fated girl’s night that only she and Ruby had made it to the end of – Mary Margaret and Ashley ducking out embarrassingly early – that shifters like them could only be contained for so long, and that though he had loved she and her gran and been happy with them, he had mostly returned to the forest when he came of age, living off the land as a skilled huntsman with a wolf he considered his brother at his side.  It was only after a month when he hadn’t stopped in for even a supper or a quick visit, that they learned he had been commissioned for a job by the Evil Queen – and when he had failed to return, she had feared him dead.  It wasn’t until befriending Snow White and hearing she and Charming’s whole story put together that Ruby had learned the fate of her adopted sibling was much worse: he had been made into one of Regina’s heartless black knights, his very mind and will subject to her whims and control.

           Henry had told Emma all this as well, long before her waitress friend confided in her with newly-restored memories post-Curse, but Emma hadn’t truly believed him at the time, merely nodded along to humor her highly imaginative son as he’d flipped through his storybook not long after she and Graham had shared their single, ill-fated kiss.  Graham’s collapse just afterwards, her panicked 911 call and what the confused Dr. Whale had vaguely labeled some sort of isolated cardiac event, had given cooler heads time to prevail where taking the romantic feelings behind that kiss much further had been concerned.  At the time, Emma hadn’t questioned his awed “I remember” epiphany, chalking it up to disorientation from his impending health episode.  Now she knew that somehow his memories had been returned to him before the curse breaking did the same for everyone else in town.  Henry had been thrilled, and she knew that Graham had listened to her son seriously after that, truly joined his “Operation Cobra”, because he knew Henry was right, and wanted to help bring everyone back to themselves as well.  He just hadn’t attempted to share it with her, knowing she would think him crazy and that it would push her even further from the truth.  Instead, he had bided his time, and helped where he could, waiting and hoping and believing until the Savior could no longer deny who she truly was.

           It made Emma chuckle lowly, and shake her head in amused disbelief; their whole world had changed, and yet here stood her friend, patiently waiting as he always had.  He turned to look over his shoulder at her sound from where he stood at the open filing cabinet, head tilted to the side as he studied her curiously, until Emma finally admitted, “Yeah, I wasn’t in the best mood.  It felt like everyone in the diner was wondering how I could possibly be their Princess.  My parents keep fussing over me and trying to make up for 28 years in a week, and we still don’t know where Regina’s hiding or what she might be plotting next.  It’s just…it’s a lot….that’s all.”

           She blew out a breath, still not sure what compelled her to open up exactly. To her intense relief, Graham didn’t try to offer empty platitudes about it all being fine and not to worry.  He merely nodded in understand, adding, “I’d imagine so.  Our world back in the Enchanted Forest – your own family even – wasn’t real to you at all, and now it’s all been dumped in your lap.”

           Emma bit her lip to hide its almost quivering a little at the emotion he summed up so succinctly.  She wasn’t used to feeling so shaky and out of her depth – and she certainly didn’t like it.  That didn’t even begin to factor in the weird sensation of being watched that she had experienced repeatedly, nor of being followed, though she kept feeling it crawling up the back of her neck the last couple of days.  That had to be just a reaction to the other upheavals around her –if she could only convince herself of that fact.

           Suddenly, Emma had to get out.  The pressures of wondering what the Evil Queen might throw at them next, how to keep her son safe – while at long last getting to actually learn to be his mother, trying to reconnect with her own parents, and trying not to disappoint everyone else looking on, was overwhelming her once more.  The walls of the station seemed to be drawing in, along with the suffocating weight of all that responsibility mentally added up as well. It really was more than any one person – a sane one anyway – should be expected to handle at one time.

           Luckily, it had taken her long enough to fetch their dinner, that a quick glance at the clock back out into the main room over the coffeemaker and microwave showed that it was nearly quitting time anyway.  She needed to get back to her room at the loft – if only for five minutes completely to herself to put her head back on straight – before she hyperventilated.

           Before she could voice some excuse about the supper not sitting right or needing to help Henry with his homework, Graham looked up at her again, warm gaze concerned and voice soft in understanding, “Emma, you don’t look like you’re feeling well…”

           She started to protest, even as she had been about to claim just that, but she didn’t want to seem like she was slacking, nor for her distress to be so obvious.  She used to have a much better poker face.  Graham waved off whatever comeback she was about to voice anyway. “Seriously, this place is so quiet they shouldn’t pay both of us to be here anyway.  I’m closing up myself as we speak.  I’ll put the phone on rollover to our cells at 9:00, and then I’m heading out too.  You’re only gaining about twenty minutes.”

           Shaking her head at his once more almost unbelievable kindness, Emma didn’t even try to protest further. Instead, she slung her jacket back over her shoulders and nodded her acquiescence as she stood.  “If you’re sure,” she finally caved, “but make me return the favor sometime, okay?”

           “Done,” Graham assured her, his expression genuine and further comforting her that he didn’t resent the early exit or her needing some time to regroup.

           Another minute, and she was out the door, hesitating but a moment on the curb outside to button up her red jacket and pull her knit beanie down over her ears against the chill in the late September breeze. She stepped out briskly, crossing the street and picking up speed as the night had already lengthened into dark and the air had gone chill.  It was only as she passed by the storefront with Dr. Hopper’s offices above on the second floor that a scuffling noise caught her ears enough that she turned sharply, peering once more down a narrow alley between buildings.  She could have sworn the shadows shifted as something – or someone – drew further back out of sight.  Emma tried to focus on the area where she had seen movement, practically holding her breath as she stared into the hovering blackness.  Whatever had alerted her was clearly long gone though. She wasn’t running around in the night alone chasing what was probably a stray cat, nor was she going to let her jangly nerves imagine even more monsters than the ones she had already learned were real.

           Turning back to face the street, Emma made herself move on toward the home she shared with Mary Margaret – and now David and Henry too.  She couldn’t help the foreboding that skittered up her spine; no matter how many times she told herself she wasn’t being followed, that nothing was there, she was no longer sure that reassurance was true.

           As if to seal her unease, just as she closed her fist over the door handle to enter their building’s stairwell up to the loft, the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end in the night stillness.  And it was then that a stark, shivering note rose on the chill air – coming from the nearby forest at the edge of town, but carrying in a haunting, wild cry, clear as a bell.  It was the howl of a wolf, letting them all know it was there.

Tagging a few who might enjoy: @jennjenn615 @kmomof4 @searchingwardrobes @jrob64 @apiratewhopines @whimsicallyenchantedrose

@laschatzi @optomisticgirl @tiganasummertree @spartanguard @therooksshiningknight @teamhook @revanmeetra87

@anmylica @booksteaandtoomuchtv @myfearless-love @undercaffinatednightmare @stahlop @xsajx @bluewildcatfanatic

@winterbaby89 @hollyethecurious @artistic-writer @belovedcreation @motherkatereloyshipper @jonesfandomfanatic

@donteattheappleshook @the-darkdragonfly @xarandomdreamx @elizabeethan @let-it-raines @resident-of-storybrooke

[swanslieutenant]

a place in time - chapter xiii

Summary: Emma’s an agent working to reunite missing people with their families when the biggest missing persons case of all time appears in front of her in a flash of bright, white light. Thousands of missing people from throughout history, including one particular pirate, appear on the shore of a lake in the middle of winter: none have aged a day since their disappearance and, with no memory of their missing time, must venture into a strange and uncertain future. Loosely based on the TV show “the 4400.”

Rating and Warnings: Teen. For now.

Catch up: ch1, ch2, ch3, ch4, ch5, ch6, ch7, ch8, ch9, ch10, ch11, ch12

Read on AO3

Note: *shows up nearly 2 years late with a Tim Hortons hot chocolate* - apologies for the length it took for me to get this updated. It has been a hard/chaotic two years for me and this fic is a hard one to write, but things are settling a bit, so I will try not to leave it for that long again. 

thanks to all the folks over at the @captainswanmoviemarathon discord channel for welcoming me in and helping me get this finished with the many many writing sprints it took!

___________________________________________________________

Neither Killian or Emma speak as they march back to her office, their steps quick and staccato against the polished floors. The world seems to be on a tilt, like Emma is walking through a funhouse with slanted floors, with the glass doors of the offices lining the hallway like the twisted and bendy mirrors of the carnival house, warping and distorting reality all around her. 

Emma supposes she should be used to this feeling by now. After all, her entire world has been on a tilt since that night down at the lake, with the sudden appearance of thousands of people.

But this time it feels different. Like her normal life, or what has been her new normal at this point, has been shattered once again. What she thought to be true, who she thought she could trust and rely on – broken, once again.

I know him from my time. 

When they reach her office, after unlocking the door, she gestures Killian ahead of her. He hasn’t said a word yet, and his face is solemn, the utter shock now an icy grit. His jaw is set, his eyes steel, the cold-hearted pirate that lurks beneath his charming veneer returned full force.

“This is his doing.” His voice is shaking with rage, the words more a growl than a sentence.

“This is crazy,” Emma says, swallowing the growing bile rising in her throat as she shuts the office door behind herself. She grips the side of her desk, her knuckles turning white, as she falls heavily into her desk chair. “How – are you sure that it’s the same guy?”

“Absolutely.”

He is still sanding by the door, hands curled into fists at his side, almost vibrating with fury. There is clearly some history here, and Emma remembers the vile that Gold spoke of Killian with when the returnees first arrived, how he had demanded for him to be locked up and kept away from the others.

“Who is he, Killian? How do you know him?”

“He’s a monster.” He spits the words, and then lifts his left hand, shaking his sleeve up his arm and rubbing at the scar that encircles his wrist, ragged and rough. “See this scar, Swan? He did it to me.”

She has wondered about the scar ever since she first saw it weeks ago, and now the shadow that had darkened his expression when she mentioned it then makes sense. She is truly sick now, her stomach twisting at the thought of her boss, the man she has sat across from in meetings and who controls this entire goddamn situation, literally attacking someone to the point of leaving such a horrific scar.

“He – dear god, Killian. That looks like he tried to cut your hand off!”

“It was no mere attempt,” Killian replies hollowly, eyes darkening. “He did cut it off.”

Emma blinks at him, and then stares at his hand, clearly attached to his arm. Now fair enough, she doesn’t know a lot about surgery or how re-attaching a limb would work, but Emma sure as hell knows there is no way Killian would have had his hand re-attached or be able to use it with 1700s medicine.

“He – what? I don’t understand. But your – your hand? How was it … fixed?”

“Magic.”

Emma’s heart stutters at the word. She leans back in her chair, stunned as if she’s been slapped.

“What?”

“A witch,” Killian continues, oblivious to Emma’s reaction, and he waves his right hand airily. “Or a fairy or some other manner of creature. I suppose I never actually asked her. My crew and I had come across her once before ever meeting Gold, and we retreated to her after his attack. She was a bit prickly, but she re-attached it for me after my crew begged her to. She had only a little magic left after running into trouble of her own, and she was no expert, hence the scar, but she did her best.”

Magic, witches, fairies. Her superpower remains silent, indicating Killian is telling the truth as he sees it, but Emma can’t believe it. Abruptly, Emma feels on the edge of tears. A hand re-attached by magic?

What?

Killian seems to finally notice her thunderstruck expression. “To you, Swan, magic is a myth. In my time, it was as common as your light switches. And clearly,” he adds, holding up his hand and flexing his fingers, “it worked.”

Seriously, what the hell is her life these days? Magic? Fine, she has no explanation for why Killian is standing in front of her, two and a half centuries after he should have died. But magic? No way. Aliens or scientific advancements in time travel make more sense than magic. But then she thinks of the video Anna had shown her of her sister controlling snowflakes as naturally as could be, and well, hell, magic at this point may make as much sense as anything else.

“I don’t understand,” Emma manages finally, wrenching her mind away from the literal concept of magic to the problem in front of her. Gold, Killian, time travel, his hand. “How – why did Gold cut your hand off?” 

“I stole something from him.”

… Of course he did.

Her mind starting to burst at the seams, she can only gape back at Killian as he explains his history with Gold, utterly lost for words. In Killian’s time, Gold had been a powerful landowner in England, who ventured to the New World after making a bad deal and losing his fortune. He didn’t know how long Gold had been in America before Killian heard of him, but he did know was already successful and rich in his new surroundings, a dangerous businessman who no one dared cross.

Except Killian.

“As you may remember, Swan, at that time I was a wanted man by the English Crown, having stolen and burned many of their ships. They had done their own damage to me, and it was my utmost desire at the time to ruin them in any other way I could. So, when I heard rumours of an enchanted object that Gold had brought over from England, the last of his previous fortune and a gift from the king and royal family themselves, naturally, I wanted it. Besides, my crew and I hadn’t had a good heist in months. It was a hard, cold winter, and the stormy weather had kept many ships trapped in European harbours, and my men were itching for some action.”

Even amidst her shock at this whole situation, Emma has to resist the urge to roll her eyes – pirates.

“My crew and I were moored in a town called Newport, near where his new estate was. We were restocking the Jolly Roger when I heard he’d left the town for business and would not be back for a fortnight, leaving his mansion unprotected.”

“So, you of course just waltzed in and stole it. What even was it?”

He flashes her a devious grin, a glimmer of his charming, mischievous self breaking through his dark demeanour. “I’m a hell of a pirate, love, even on land. It was only too easy to sneak into his manor. We took everything we could get our hands on, and then I found this object, the king’s gift.” Killian cups his hands, as if he was holding several apples in his palms. “It was roughly this size. I couldn’t tell you what it was called, for I’ve never come across anything like it before. I thought perhaps a music box or a small chest at first. It was circular, with the sides plated in pure gold leaf. The top of it was beautiful, no doubt painted by the finest artist to represent a dark indigo sky with white stars emblazoned upon it. I wondered if it was only the case for the true treasure within, but I could never get the damn thing to open. My crew and I tried everything we could think of – prying it, smashing it, hammering it. Nothing. It seemed empty inside, too, for when you’d knock on it, it was hollow. After all the efforts for seemingly nothing, I thought about simply selling it. But, then I heard Gold was desperate to have it returned, that he had ripped his manor apart looking for it, so I knew it was something valuable indeed.”

Emma is trying to picture the object Killian describes, and she has no idea what it could be either. Sounds to her like a little box, like something you’d find in an old antique or knick-knack store. “Okay, so what did you do with it then?”

“I buried it, somewhere safe where I knew Gold couldn’t find it.”

The entire tale is the most Killian has spoken about his past as a pirate since appearing in this time, and Emma supposes she shouldn’t be surprised it ends with a tale of buried treasure. Typical.

“Besides that,” Killian continues slowly, and he rubs one of his upper arms absently, as if recalling a past chill. “My crew didn’t like it. Once we realized we couldn’t do anything with it or allow Gold to have it again, we needed it off the ship as soon as we could.”

“Didn’t like it?” Emma echoes, her skin rippling with goosebumps. “What do you mean?”

Killian frowns, and he rubs at his chin thoughtfully. “I know you don’t believe in magic, Swan, but if you saw this, you would. Even though we couldn’t get it open, the damned thing seemed to suck the energy of the area around it. People were grumpier near it, more prone to anger, and more likely to need hours upon hours of sleep after being around it for a long time. As if it pulled their energy into itself and made them weaker, less honourable versions of themselves.”

He’s right, she doesn’t believe in magic. The thought of a strangle little box, gifted to her boss in the 1700s that caused hardened pirates to want it out of their sight, is something out of a movie. But … after all Emma has seen and all she’s heard, even just in the last few minutes, perhaps she better start believing.

“In any regard, we buried it and forgot about it for a few months until we returned one day to Newport. Gold knew my ship – hell, everyone knew my ship, then – and he was watching for it. He surprised us and thought to kill me and my crew, but realized rather quickly if we were all dead, he’d have no way to find out where the object was hidden. So instead … he thought to teach me a lesson.” He holds his left hand up again. “Hence, this.” 

Emma leans back into her desk chair, sinking into the old cushion and letting out a deep breath. She’s starting to get a tight, fluttery feeling in her chest she gets when she’s becoming overwhelmed, the feeling that usually spurs her to run, run as fast as she can.

But there’s no running from this. This, this twisted world with time travel and now apparently magic, is her reality.

Killian falls silent, finally taking a seat opposite her instead of standing, fuming, by the door. But Emma doesn’t know what to say back to him, so they sit in silence for several long minutes. After all, what do you say back to someone who is telling you about their adversarial meetings in the 1740s with your boss, who was the one to cut off his hand that was then re-attached with magic?

Emma has always been a logical person; she’s had to be. There was no room for whimsy or belief in the unknown during her childhood, not when she was burned too early by a world that only showed her its dark and cruel side. Her mind is so overwhelmed, she’s not even sure how to begin processing all this. If Killian wasn’t between her and the door, she may have started running. 

“So, you buried this object,” she begins, forcing herself to focus on the tangible parts of Killian’s story, though it’s not enough to not notice the irony of discussing ancient buried treasure with a pirate. “Probably in a place built over by a parking lot, or so deep underground that its lost to history, or found by a random person and sitting on someone’s grandma’s shelf –”

“That seems unlikely,” Killian muses. “I would hazard a guess it has never been found. After all, that must be why I’m here, in your time. He’s after the object again. He couldn’t get it from me then, and for whatever reason, he’s brought me here to find it.”

Emma has come to the same conclusion herself now, but she shakes her head in dismay. “I just don’t understand. If he wants this thing back so bad, why not get it from you back then, not invent time travel and wait nearly three hundred years for it?”

He shrugs, but his eyes flash. “Only the devil himself knows what madness lurks in that monster’s mind.”

Emma sighs and rubs at her eyes. If ridiculous was a line crossed back when Killian first said he knew Gold from his time, this situation is so far gone, Emma’s not even sure what to make of it anymore.

“So where is it buried? The object?”

Killian doesn’t answer, idly tracing the scar around his wrist. She watches him, wondering if he’s simply trying to remember, but when the silence stretches on, she realizes he has no intention of answering her, and for whatever reason, that hurts.

“Killian … you know you can trust me.” 

“I do trust you, Swan,” he says, and his voice softens as he meets her eyes. “It’s Gold I don’t. This object, whatever its value to him, has been safe for nearly three centuries. Its secret is safest with just one person.” He pauses briefly. “For now.”

Though still stung, Emma nods. “Okay. For now.” She lets out a deep breath, and runs a hand through her hair, combing out the tangles. “Well, if this object is really what Gold is after and you’re the only person alive who knows where it is, it makes sense why Gold wanted you arrested at first.”

“He what?” Killian’s voice is sharp, his eyes flashing with anger again, and Emma winces. She supposes she hadn’t told Killian that part yet.

As his expression darkens, Emma explains how Gold had first wanted Killian detained more formally than all the other returnees due to his reaction down at the lake where he first fought and argued with the Storybrooke agents, along with his past as a pirate and wanted criminal. How, now that she knows this history, it was most likely just a ruse for Gold to be able to keep a closer eye on Killian than the others.

“That slimy bastard.”

Silently, Emma agrees. She doesn’t know what Gold is planning, but she already knows whatever it is, it isn’t good. At her last meeting with him, when he’d asked her about ‘anything odd’ with the returnees, she’d left the conversation with a pit in her stomach, the root of doubt and suspicion that has now blossomed into fully fledged mistrust and, frankly, fear.

“We have to get you out of here. Out of Storybrooke, away from Gold. It’s not safe for you here anymore.”

“I concur.”

But then Emma frowns. Regina is away today, attending meetings offsite in regards to the returnees’ release, and Emma knows there is no way she is going to get Killian discharged from here without her permission. Any other returnee, maybe, but not Killian the media magnet.

She could attempt to sneak him out, but if they are caught … well, it was bad enough that Emma was seen by the media near him during his previous escape attempt. If they are caught again when she’s aiding him in an escape attempt … she’d be re-assigned to another returnee at the very least or fired at the very worst, and Killian will be kept here, in Gold’s clutches, for even longer.

“I can’t get you out of here tonight,” she says, swallowing down the anxiety that comes with the thought. “We have to wait until Regina is here, and do it all by the books or … well, I don’t know what will happen. She’ll be back tomorrow.” Emma sighs, and rises to her feet. “Come on. I’ll walk you back to the barracks. I think you may be safer there with the guards all around.”

They leave her office, walking carefully around the corner leading to the foyer where the media conference had been. But it’s over now, all the chairs and the podium cleaned up.

The walk to the barracks is mostly in silence, both of them lost in thought. When they reach the lobby, Emma grips Killian’s arm, pausing him in his tracks.

“Don’t get into any trouble,” she warns, her voice a whisper. “I’ll be back first thing tomorrow to talk to Regina about your release.”

“When have I ever gotten into trouble?” he replies teasingly, and he rests his hand over hers briefly before moving towards the staircase. “Goodbye, Emma.”

She watches him head upstairs to his room, until he’s gone through a door and out of sight.  Emma should go back to her office and get some semblance of work done, but she pauses instead. The cafeteria is just ahead of her, buzzing with the hum of conversation. It’s lunch now, and the returnees are free to move about as the media are gone. An idea has occurred to her, and instead of heading back to her office, she walks into the busy cafeteria.

Near one of the wide windows at the opposite end, Emma spots David and Mary Margaret. As she’s walking over, Mary Margaret notices her first, brightening with a wide smile and shining eyes.

“Hi Emma!”

Their enthusiasm still makes her a bit uncomfortable, but she tries to smile genuinely as she takes a seat opposite them. They are smiling widely at her, clearly thinking she’s here for a friendly chat or at least a step in the right direction for their relationship, and suddenly Emma wishes that was all she was here for. A pleasant, light conversation with the parents she lost for 28 years, returned to her miraculously by (as it’s truly appearing to be) magic. 

And yet here she is instead, a dark cloud of fear and suspicion hanging over her. She glances around before speaking, not really sure who she should be on the lookout for, but in any case, the other returnees and agents are pre-occupied with their own meal or conversation. And, besides, she supposes she has an excuse to be sat here talking with David and Mary Margaret – they are, after all, her parents.

“We’ve been wanting to tell you,” Mary Margaret starts brightly, before Emma can get up the nerve to speak. “Graham told us that once the first group of returnees start to be released, he thinks David and I will be allowed out for more visits. We were hoping, well …” she trails off suddenly, uncertain, and David grasps her hand tightly, squeezing it for support. Mary Margaret smiles at him, and continues, her voice much stronger now, “Maybe we could meet you and Henry somewhere for a meal one day?”

“Oh,” Emma says, taken aback. “Um, yeah, that that would be great.”

They smile in delight, and Emma finds she does truly mean that. If they had said something like this even a few days ago, she probably would’ve scowled and made up some excuse as to why it couldn’t happen, but instead, she is already imagining them at Henry’s favourite restaurant, with him showing them his favourite dishes and desserts. “Um, Henry will be so excited to hear about that. And I want to hear more about it too, but first – I came here to ask you for a favour.”

They nod, exchanging a glance with each other, plainly thrilled that whatever this is about, Emma has decided to ask for their help. Their willingness makes Emma’s heart twinge; they’re so happy to have anything from her, even if it’s an indication of a grain of trust, that it lights up their whole expressions as if she just agreed to start calling them mom and dad.

She gives herself a quick mental shake, and focuses again. She leans forward slightly, lowering her voice so they can only just hear her. “There’s something … weird going on around here, I’m still trying to figure it all out, but I need your help in the meantime.”

David and Mary Margaret trade worried glances at her tone. “Of course,” David says firmly. “What’s going on? What is it about?”

Emma hesitates. She wants to tell them what Killian told her, but it’s not her story to share. Besides, the less people who know about Gold, the better. Instead, she says, “Can you keep an eye on Killian Jones for me for the rest of the day? Make sure he’s doing okay and keeping himself out of trouble?”

David frowns, and crosses his arms across his chest. “The pirate?” he demands, and Mary Margaret glares at him.

“It’s important,” Emma continues, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. “I – can’t really say much else, but it’s important.”

“Of course, Emma,” Mary Margaret says, and she elbows David, who, reluctantly, nods. “That’s no problem at all. We’ll ask him to have dinner with us tonight.”

“Thanks, I really appreciate it.” She then gets to her feet, and disappointment flashes across their faces. She winces. “Sorry, I have to get back to work. But, I – uh, well I’m looking forward to that dinner one day soon.” 

The disappointment fades a bit, and they say their goodbyes. Emma returns to her office for the rest of the afternoon, trying to get through her stack of endless paperwork, but it’s pointless. She gets nothing done, her mind on Gold and buried treasure and even when she gets home, she’s a nervous wreck all night, unable to focus on anything at all.  

Henry is his usual chatty self, but Emma can’t keep focused on what he’s saying. She has no patience for cooking tonight either, so instead orders in pizza, much to her son’s delight. As he’s munching on his fourth piece of deep-dish pepperoni, Henry pauses mid-bite, glancing at Emma’s untouched first slice.

“Mom? Are you ok?”

“Sorry, kid,” she replies, and she forces herself to smile reassuringly. “Just distracted by work. Want to play a game tonight?”

He is satisfied with that answer, and playing Clue with Henry does help to pass the time, but her heart isn’t in it and she is soundly beaten in each of the three rounds they play. When it’s finally her son’s bedtime and he’s sound asleep, peaceful and warm in his bed, Emma herself gets ready for bed.

Sleep, however, has never seemed so far away. Her mind roils with the revelations of the day, her stomach turning with nausea and anxiety. With no wink of sleep in sight, Emma sits up in bed instead. She leans against the solid wood of her headboard, and hugs her knees into her chest, watching the tree outside her window sway with the cold wind.

It’s so simple, to watch the trees, illuminated by the street lights below. They are just as they were yesterday, unchanged by the revelation of magic such as controlling snow or re-attaching hands or transporting hundreds of people through time. 

She watches the trees for a while, and at one point, Emma finally drifts off, her dreams a jumble of pirate ships and bright white light.

Those dreams, however, are abruptly broken by a shrill ring of her cellphone.

Emma jolts awake, and grabs the phone from the nightstand, answering it without reading the caller ID.

“Hello?” 

“Emma, it’s Anna!” Her colleague’s voice is frantic and harried, and Emma sits up, her heartbeat accelerating.

“Anna?”

“You need to get back here to Storybrooke right away. It’s – it’s about Killian Jones. One of the returnees was found dead and –”

Emma swings her legs out from under the covers, the floor cold beneath her bare feet, as icy as the shot of pure panic running through her. “What? Is – is Killian –” 

“No, no, he’s fine,” Anna says hurriedly, as if just realizing the implication of her words. Emma’s heart stutters again, her emotions of fear and relief in whiplash. “Well, I mean he’s not hurt, he’s not quite okay as you would say, but –”

“Anna, what the hell is going on?”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean – okay, like I was saying, I was staying here tonight with Elsa, and then – well, there was a commotion maybe an hour ago and when I went to see what had happened … well, one of the returnees is dead. It’s pretty clear they were attacked … like, with a sword.” 

Emma’s heart sinks though she’s sure she already knows. If he’s not the one dead, and the victim was attacked with a sword …

“And what does this have to do with Killian?”

“He’s been arrested for the murder.” 

_______________________________________________________

The drive back to Storybrooke is a blur. She’d woken up her neighbour across the hall and half-dragged her over to watch Henry and get him off to school in the morning, only telling her there was an emergency and she had to leave right now.

When she makes it onto Storybrooke’s grounds, she careens into an empty parking spot, half out of the vehicle before she’s stopped the engine. The main returnee barracks building is bright and illuminated, and Emma marches towards it, her heart pounding heavily with each step she takes.

On the steps leading to the building, outside the main doors, stands a group of several individual Emma recognizes as police and FBI officers from their emblazoned jackets. As she approaches, one holds her hand up to block Emma’s path.

“Hold up! No one is allowed entry right now. A federal investigation is underway.” 

Emma’s hands curl into fists at her side, and she digs out her identification badge from her jacket pocket. She has no time to argue. “You don’t understand, I need to get in there.”

The officers’ frown at her badge, and she opens her mouth to furiously continue, when a voice calls her name from within the main doors.

“Emma?” The guards move aside, revealing Kristoff Reinsdyr, one of the guards at Storybrooke, looking pale and frazzled. “Thank goodness you’re here.”

One of the FBI officers scowls, and looks Emma up and down. “We have orders to not let anyone else in until Commander Hua says –”

“Emma needs to come in. She’s Jones’ agent in charge of his case here.”

Kristoff gestures her forward, and Emma doesn’t wait to see if the officers complain again, though they do move out of her way finally. She and Kristoff hurry inside, where the brightness of the fluorescently lit building makes her eyes sting as he leads her towards the back staircase.

“Glad you’re here, Emma. Anna told me she called you,” Kristoff says, as they take the steps two at a time up to the fourth floor to the isolation and interview area. Emma is reminded sharply of the first time she had come up here, when she’d met Killian the first night, when he’d been belligerent and thrown in here to cool down.

The thought sets her teeth on edge. “Kristoff, what the hell is this about? Anna said there had been a murder?”

He hesitates. “Yes, it seems like it. There was some commotion around midnight in the residences. We thought perhaps it was a fight, but when we got there to see what had happened …” He trails off, and shakes his head once. “It was awful, Emma. Truly horrific.”

He doesn’t elaborate, and Emma decides she doesn’t want to know. “And – they think Killian did it? Where is he now?”

“In one of the interview rooms upstairs. He was with a few of the other guards for a bit, until the FBI got here about an hour ago. Now he’s in with their commander.”

They reach the top floor, and Kristoff leads her down a cold, empty hallway to the cluster of interview rooms at the end of the corridor. Kristoff opens a small side door, into a small observation room that faces the larger interview room through one-way glass. Three FBI officers are in the room already and they frown at her, but she simply flashes her identification badge in their direction before looking through the one-way glass at the scene ahead.

Killian is seated in a similar room to the one she first met him in, his face smooth and impassive, as cold as she’s ever seen it. His wrists are bound with handcuffs, chained to the table in the centre of the room. Mulan Hua, the commander of the Boston FBI who Emma recognizes from the lake, is seated across from him, watching him with a careful, quiet gaze.

“Let’s go over this again,” she is saying, her voice strained with patience. Emma isn’t sure how long Killian has been talking to her, but by his sour expression, she knows they’ve already been over this conversation several times. “Tell me exactly what happened this evening.”

“As I have told you a thousand times since I was dragged from my bed by your deranged guards,” he snaps, drawing the words out so they are each peppered with a near growl. “I have no idea what happened. I was in my room all evening, save for dinner. All I know is what you’ve told me: a man has been found dead, and you suspect I had something to do with it.”

“Murdered,” Mulan corrects, her face solemn. “He’s not only dead, he was murdered.”

Killian rattles the handcuffs pointedly. “Not by my hand. If I’d done it, I’d bloody well confess. I may be a pirate, but I’m no coward. I’ve committed my fair share of atrocities, but I will not confess to something I did not do.”

“How do you explain the fact that your sword was found discarded nearby, stained with blood?”

It could be a damning statement, but Killian laughs, rumbling and low. “You think me fool enough to leave a murder weapon lying about where any bumbling twit can come across it? Not to mention that I haven’t had my sword since I arrived in this bloody time when your guards confiscated it, so how, pray tell, do you think I managed to get my sword back?” 

Mulan sighs, irritation flitting across her features. “Well, we know how you did it. We have evidence. Video evidence of you removing the sword from the Collection Room.”

Emma’s eyes widen, and she feels abruptly like she’s been punched in the gut. They have what?

Killian, however, isn’t fazed by this bombshell; after all, he probably has no idea what a video is. “I don’t care what evidence you say you have. It’s all false, I didn’t do it and I haven’t had my sword in weeks. So, either arrest me and throw me in a dungeon, or let me go for I have nothing more to say to you.”

 And at that, he falls silent. Mulan tries to get him to speak again, but to no avail. Eventually, she sighs and gets to her feet, the chair scraping loudly against the floor and making Emma flinch. “Okay. You think about things, and I’ll be back with something for you to eat and drink.”  

As she heads for the door, Emma sees her chance to speak with her. She darts past Kristoff and the other FBI officers in the observation room, out into the hallway, catching Mulan just as she’s shutting the door behind her. 

“Commander,” Emma calls. “What the hell is going on?” 

“Oh, Agent Swan, I’m glad you’re here.” Mulan breathes out heavily. Now that she’s out of the interview room, she appears tired, her face pale, her eyebrows pinched together with stress. “I’ve been wanting to talk with you. Do you have any idea why Jones would want to kill Henry Jekyll?”

“No!” Emma replies vehemently. “Killian wouldn’t kill – who the hell even is that?”

“He is another returnee. Or rather, was. He was one of Jones’s roommates when he was released from isolation. He was found dead earlier by his current roommate. He’d been stabbed several times.”

Emma stares back at her, lost for words, as Kristoff peers out of the other room, as if making sure everything is okay.

Mulan nods at him. “Officer, can you get me a sandwich and water bottle for Jones?”

He agrees, and disappears back down the hall the way he had come with Emma. Mulan turns back to Emma, and at her expression, lets out another deep sigh.

“Emma,” she says gently, almost understandingly. “I know you must have gotten close to Jones while he’s been here –” Emma inhales sharply, but Mulan doesn’t seem to notice “– since you’re his agent and all. Obviously, you don’t want to believe he could have done something like this. But you have to remember that he’s a criminal. He was an outlaw and a pirate, wanted by the British Navy at the time for treason and murder. And that’s just the recorded crimes. We really don’t know anything about him, or what he’s capable of. I’m not surprised something like this has come up, honestly.”

“I am,” Emma replies bluntly. “There is no way Killian killed someone, not when tomorrow – I mean, we are trying to get all the returnees out of here not keep them locked up longer!”

Mulan pinches the bridge of her nose, and gestures for Emma to follow her. “Come with me, take a look at what we found.”

Emma follows her into a second interview room, empty save for a steel table with a laptop on it. Mulan opens the laptop, entering her credentials to log in. It seems to take an exorbitant amount of time, Emma’s nerves fraying further with each passing second. The screen opens to a generic Federal Bureau of Investigation backdrop, and Mulan clicks on a video saved to the desktop, labelled simply ‘surveillance footage.’

“This is from back in early February,” Mulan explains, as the video loads up to reveal a room Emma recognizes as the Collection Room in the basement, where she visited once before to collect Mary Margaret, David and Killian’s belonging, with its shelves upon shelves of boxes and plastic containers.

“Security pulled it for us once we identified the sword. Watch.”

The recording is of the deserted collection room for several moments, blurry and shrouded in shadows, the time blinking in the corner of the video as 3:30 a.m. Then, grainy white light floods the room, the main door swinging open to let in the hallway light.

Through the pixelated footage, Emma recognizes Killian as he strides into the room, confident as ever. He walks to the back of the room without hesitation, to a small area behind a chain link fence which reaches to the ceiling. He disappears off camera as he steps into the fenced-in area, but he’s only hidden for a few moments before he steps back into view.

In his hands, is a sheathed sword, its handle black and simple, apparent even in the poor footage. He removes it from the sheath, and holds it up to his eye level, admiring the blade. He then re-sheathes it and slips out of the room, the light fading from the room as the door swings shut behind him.

The video stops, and Emma stares at it, dumbfounded. There it is, plain as day. Evidence of Killian retrieving the sword.

But she shakes her head as she remembers her own visit to the Collection Room more clearly. “No, no, that’s not possible. Listen, I know he couldn’t have gotten the sword. It was checked out, I remember because I went and got his other stuff and saw it on the list.”

“The list?” Mulan frowns. “What list?”

“There was a list in the Collection Room, a list of each person’s items which weren’t allowed to be checked out, but his sword had a note that it was taken out. So he couldn’t have done it, because you needed special permission to get those restricted items out. I remember because I was –”

Emma trails off, because Mulan is watching her with a skeptical frown. She clearly doesn’t believe Emma, and after all, why would she? There’s video proof of Killian getting the sword himself.

Kristoff knocks on the door to the interview room then, opening it to show the water bottle and wrapped sandwich in his hand. “Here you are, Commander.”

“Perfect,” Mulan says, closing the laptop and striding towards him. “Thank you, officer.”

She’s already back in the hallway, food in hand, marching down to the Killian’s interview room, before Emma, still stunned by the video, springs into action.

She hurries out into the hallway and, before Mulan can open the door to re-join Killian, blocks her path. Killian may be her … well, Emma’s not sure if she could even call him a friend, but whatever he is, he’s her responsibility. Returnees are always given legal counsel if they require it for any reason, including an active criminal investigation whether they are defendant or plaintiff.

“Does he have a lawyer on their way?”

“No, he declined one.” 

Mulan says it calmly, but something about it is the last straw for Emma. The last twenty-four hours have nearly broken her – the video of Elsa, the knowledge that Gold is from the 1700s too, that magic is the most probable reason why all these people have shown up here, and now this: her … returnee arrested for murder and being questioned without legal counsel.

“He’s from the 1700s!” Emma shouts, and Mulan flinches in surprise. Even Killian glances over to the door, as if he heard her too. “Of course he declined one, I don’t know if they had lawyers back then. He has no idea about our laws or processes or anything. Killian doesn’t know what he’s getting himself into, he needs a lawyer!”

Mulan regards Emma quietly, and she shrugs. “Well, I’ll speak to him about it again, but I doubt he’ll change his mind.”

She opens the door with the food, and as she does, Emma leans slightly around her, to peer into the room. Killian is watching Mulan enter, stony-faced, but for a moment, a single moment before the door slams shut behind Mulan, he catches Emma’s eye.

If only magic was real; maybe she could send him a telepathic message to ask for a lawyer. But, Emma’s no magician, and the door swings shut, the breeze catching her in the face and rustling her hair. 

“Here,” Mulan says, her voice muffled by the door, and Emma hurries back to the other room, to the one-way glass so she can hear better. The other agents are glaring at her now with open hostility, but Emma ignores them, moving past them so she is standing directly in front of the one-way glass.

Mulan has resumed her seat, the water bottle and sandwich on the table between them, but Killian doesn’t move to reach for them.

“Listen,” she says, casting a pointed look to the one-way glass. “Before we talk anymore about this, I’m going to remind you one more time that you are allowed to have legal representation before speaking with me.”

Killian remains silent.

Mulan huffs a sigh. “Alright. Okay, so let’s go over this again, shall we?”

Killian leans forward, the handcuff chains jangling loudly against the steel table.  “Commander,” he says, intently staring now at her across the table. His tone has changed, the defensive snarls replaced with a charming lilt, soothing and persuasive. “You are a smart woman, smarter than those oafs who were in here before you. You know I didn’t do this. Even if I was so idiotic to kill a man I had met only a handful of times on the eve of being released from this prison, you know as well as I that any criminal worth their salt wouldn’t leave a bloody murder weapon tied to them and them alone near a massacred body should they hope to get away with the crime. Whoever did this wanted you to find that sword, to know that it was mine so you would come to me right away and keep me locked up here.”

Mulan narrows her eyes, and she asks, only half-jokingly, “So what? Someone is setting you up?”

Killian’s gaze flicks over to the door, to where he had seen Emma, before he shrugs, as if the suggestion is ludicrous. But it’s enough to clue Emma in.

Of course. He’s right, he has no motive to kill Jekyll. But someone else does. Someone else, who has something to lose if Killian is released from Storybrooke with the rest of the returnees.

Gold.

He must’ve seen them at the news conference, must know Killian would’ve told Emma everything about their history together. Know that, of course, Emma would try everything in her power to get Killian out of here before Gold could do anything like lock him up like he had always wanted to. So he moved faster, found a way to keep him here, in his grasp where he hopes to get the location of the mysterious object out of Killian, once and for all.

“Emma?” Kristoff asks, reaching out a hand to her in concern, and Emma realizes he and the FBI officers are staring at her.

She waves them away, realization and horror roaring in her ears as loud as thunder. She is still trying to process this, when in the interview room, Killian leans back in his chair, his expression dark and cold.

“Perhaps it is time I speak with an attorney.”

[seriouslyhooked]

Thank you friend!! I’m so eager to share the rest of this story with you when I get it all written. Thanks for always being so awesome and supportive!!

When We Collide (Part 4)

Emma Swan has always known one thing: trust no one but yourself. Unfortunately she forgot her one rule and now she’s paying for it. One bad decision led her to the monstrous ‘Crocodile’ a mobster in New York who goes by the name Gold. Hope seems lost until she meets another person in this underworld, Killian Jones. Despite the place they find each other, a true love blossoms, and they manage to get away. But what will happen when Emma discovers who Killian really is? Will love prevail? Um, yeah, I’m writing this, so duh – it’s all love all the time. Fic features motorcycles, hot guys in leather cuts, and a bit of action/drama. Will end happily, and despite the first chapter, will be light on angst. Part 1, Part 2, Part 3. Available on FanFiction Here and AO3 Here.

A/N: Hey everyone! Thanks for waiting during my little hiatus from writing this fic. I have been absolutely swamped with the end of program madness, but I am hoping I have now turned a corner and that I can do some writing more regularly. I miss getting to write these fluffy fics when the real world calls, but I am happy to report my muse got chatty again, and with a brief window of time I managed to write this next chapter of ‘When We Collide.’ We find Emma and Killian still en route to their new life, and there’s not a ton of action (which is coming later on), but some conversations need to be had for sure. Not to fear, nothing too too angsty in this chapter, and hopefully the surrounding cuteness is appreciated by all. Thanks so much for reading and hope you all enjoy!

No one ever felt so good in the middle-of-nowhere Nebraska.

Not to say that people didn’t have happy lives in this state, or that there weren’t parts of this place that held beauty and meaning and excitement, but it was a commonly known fact when taking a cross country trek that Nebraska was a seemingly endless, barren span of driving. There were no trees, no hills, no real sights to see. It was just two lanes of highway going one way and two lanes of road on the other side. Occasionally there were billboards, and those made for a laugh. Some were more expected, reading ‘Gas Ahead!’ or ‘Next Exit 82 Miles,’ but others were a wild contradiction. Everything out here was either about Jesus or sex shops and that was not an exaggeration. Nearly every billboard they passed warned about the dangers of the devil or openly bragged about having the best stash of adult toys in the Midwest. It was absolute craziness, and in the meantime, there was just nothing out here at all. Just scraggly, heat ridden crops, miles of empty fields, and a horizon that stretched on for what felt like forever.

Keep reading

[cssns]

Hello again everyone! Please help me welcome @goforlaunchcee to the CSSNS23!!!

What’s your Tumblr?

@goforlaunchcee​ /xhookswenchx (on AO3)

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

I hopped onto tumblr when I needed more CS content after the S3 finale. (That was a long hiatus!)

When did you start shipping Captain Swan?

Season 2. How could you NOT?

What drew you to this event?

I've done it before and had a lot of fun. :)

What inspired your topic?

Honestly? I was wracking my brain for a topic, and finally gave up. Then, it just hit me before I went to bed one night, and VOILA! The plot bunny was born!

If you would like to share a snippet/sneak peek/summary of your fic or artwork, please use the space below.

Emma Swan didn’t believe in ghost stories. It didn’t matter that the entire town warned her about the old building, she just couldn’t buy into the nonsense. Was the previous owner’s story sad and somewhat mysterious? Sure. But his disappearance wasn’t anything weird. He disappeared before most of the people telling his story were even born.

So in her eyes, it was nothing more than an urban legend. A cold case that lingered over the town like a bad memory.

She could relate to that. There were a million bad memories she was attempting to escape. The story of Killian Jones just helped her get a prime spot in town at a cheap price. It was perfect. She’d fix up the old bar and people would see that it was just another building.

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

The new content to read!

Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh, this is gonna be GOOOOOOOOOOD!!!!!! Everyone go say hi to Cee and welcome her to the event! Her ghost story MC will be dropping on Friday July 7!

[everything-person]

Taken

So here it is. The next chapter. This story will never be abandoned. I'm going to try to get at least one chapter out a month. This chapter has gone through a lot of edits. So hoping it came out good.

Masterlist

Chapter 7

Killian, Emma, and David walked back into the station, to find the girl pacing back and forth in the cell like a crazed animal.

“Ah! Storybrooke’s Avengers have returned! I need to report a theft.” She threw herself against the bars, she seemed almost in a panic.

Emma reveals the items that had been weighing heavily in her hand and her heart. The girl shoulders dropped and she sighed with relief, even as her grip on the bars tightened. “Those are mine. Give them back.” She ground out through her teeth.

“I would like to remind you that as a prisoner you aren't one to make demands. Nor are you privileged to have these items.” Emma said authoritatively. Then after glancing at her husband, her voice grew soft. “But as my daughter, if you asked nicely, I might give you the drawing back.”

The girl froze in her place and soaked in the revelation. “So, you finally came around? You really do need evidence for absolutely everything, don’t you? You can’t even trust your own eyes.”

Emma tried not to flinch as she nonchalantly rebuffed, “Nothing wrong with double-checking your facts.”

She rolled her eyes and took a step away from the bars. “Well now that you did your homework, let's get this started.”

“Get what started?”

“One of these is unlike the others but it was also the only one that was seen. Find it, then find its reflection,” she replied and with that turned her back on the group and plopped down on the cold floor.

“A riddle? Seriously?” Emma deadpanned. The girl shrugged in response.

“Why won’t you just talk to us?” asked Killian, a hint of desperation in his voice.

“The best lesson is the one earned not taught.”

David placed on a hand on his son-in-law’s shoulder. With a sigh Killian asked, “What about your name? Can you tell us your name?”

She said nothing for a while, but just as they turned to get back to work she spoke,

“I am the dreaded pirate Roberts.”

“Yeah, sure. And my name is Inigo Montoya. Watch out for rodents of unusual size, Buttercup.” said Emma. Leave it to my daughter to be a pop culture smartass, she thought.

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

Regina's mansion

The parlor door cracked open. The spy scanned the room that held his mom, his aunt, Robin, and his grandmother. They were all watching the scene in the station play out on a mirror.

He held back his laughter when the references started flying. She definitely knows her stuff, he thought to himself. The mirror showed the sheriff and her backup leave the girl alone in her cell again. Just because she’s in a cell doesn’t mean she should be alone.

“What the hell was that?!?!” Zelena shouted.

“It’s a clue,” Snow replied.

“I don’t want a bloody clue! I want--I need my daughter back! I’m going down there and getting some answers. A little fireball should do the trick.” Zelena said as she turned towards the door. Henry quickly hid. Before Zelena could storm out of the room, however, she was stopped by her sister. Regina waved her hand and Zelena’s feet were stuck to the floor.

“No, you are not. I told you you were only allowed to be here, to be involved, if you promised to behave. Now, behave.” Regina waved her hand again and released Zelena. “Besides if the Dark One couldn’t scare her you won’t either.”

As the adults continued to argue, the parlor door silently closed. Quiet feet ran up the stairs. Operation Princess Bride was about to begin.

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

Footsteps echoed through the empty station.

“I must be the luckiest prisoner in all of Maine. Getting so many surprise visitors, and by none other than Storybrooke’s most famous. First the Dark One, and now the Author.” She leaned further back against the furthest wall from the cell bars. “Let me guess you want to add my story to the book?”

“No. I just figured you might be bored,” Henry lowered himself to the ground and began rummaging through his bag, “so, I brought you some stuff.”

Her curiosity got the better of her as she moved closer to the bars. He pulled out some comic books, a hand-held video game, and a portable DVD player. “I figured you might want some entertainment,” he said holding up the handheld video game. “But I wasn't sure what you liked. So, I went with some of the classics.” Showing off the DVD’s he brought with him.

“I prefer D.C. over Marvel--”

“Lucky for you I have a couple of Justice League comics right here.”

“And Star Wars isn't a classic.”

“What are you talking about? Star Wars is so a classic. Where would Sci-Fi be without Star Wars?”

“In a much better place. Sci-Fi started with Frankenstein, with actual science. Now it's all about outer space and aliens.” She scoffed, but Henry still caught a smile creep to the girls face and counted it as a victory.

“You're such a Leia,” he said exasperatedly. He heard a faint “more like Anakin” and filed it away for later but did not respond to it.

“Oh, I also brought you some snacks,” he said, holding up a couple Apollo bars, “and an offer to sneak you all the hot chocolate with cinnamon you want.”

“I don't care for chocolate.” At Henry’s shocked face, she burst out laughing.

“Are you sure we’re related?” Henry asked teasingly, recovering from his shock.

As her giggles faded away, she asked, “What are you doing here Henry?”

Henry shrugged. “Like I said thought you would be bored. ” he continued after noticing her unconvinced look, “And I thought maybe we could talk.” He looked at his sister. His sister. He still hadn’t processed it completely. He was a big brother. He had a little sister. Of course he had Roland and Rebecca, and he loved them like siblings, but it wasn't the same.

“Talk about… what?” she asked cautiously.

“We can talk about anything. We could talk about movies or books. We can talk about people around Storybrooke,” he offered. Then hesitantly added, “about mom, about our family?”

“Or we could talk about why I'm here. What happened, why I decided to come back. That's what you want to know right? My motives?” She took a step back and scowled.

“Look, we can talk about anything you want. I'm your big brother. You can tell me anything.”

“Oh, is that it? Operation Big Brother, huh? You're my big brother. So, now I'm suppose to spill my guts to you. We have a bonding moment. You convince me that I'm wrong and I deliver the kids to you, huh? You're a town hero and they don't have to worry about the kids or about me, right? That’s why you came here! Why you are giving me this shit trying to butter me up?!”

“No--,” he tried to speak, but she was lost to him.

“Hate to push you off of your ‘big brother’ high-horse. But we don't know you. You're not our big brother. You left and never came back. Being the hero of your own story was more important to you than your family!”

“That's not true. It can’t be...I wouldn’t…I couldn’t...”

“Don’t believe me? Look at the picture again. He barely knows who you are! He doesn’t care about you!” She started shouting, “All he cares about are his mama, his papa, and his great big sister,” she paused a moment to breathe.

Her eyes shined with angry tears and her chest heaved. “You weren’t there, you never were! So stop trying!” Henry looked stricken, but his mind focused on one word.

“He?” he whispered. Then, he remembered the drawing... and the little boy.

Her eyes widened as she realized what she’d given away.

“Get out.” she demanded. She backed away from Henry.

“You...you didn't draw that picture. Our little brother did.”

“Why don't you go report that big bro?” She snapped, as she turned away from him.

Henry paused for a moment before asking, “What happened to him?”

She stiffened. Henry waited a moment before realizing that he’d pushed too far. With a sigh, he pushed off the ground and said, “I really did bring these so you wouldn't get bored. I’ll be back later.” He waited a moment for something, anything from her. “Bye Anny.”

Henry left with his eyes downcast and shoulders slumped. She glanced over her shoulder and watched him leave. Both too trapped in their own heads to notice the shadow in the corner that was watching them.

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

Regina’s mansion

“So,” Zelena started “does anyone know what we are actually looking for?”

“Something that seems to stand out.” Regina answered her sister.

“It has to be Hansel.”

“Nicholas.” Emma corrected without looking up from the papers in front of her.

“Whatever.”

“We really need to figure out if everyone goes by their curse names or Enchanted Forest names,” said Snow.

“Almost everyone in Storybrooke is registered as their curse name so let's go with that. Those that don't have curse names will be called by their fairy-tale names.” Emma kept looking through papers as she followed the conversation.

“Can we get back to this stupid riddle?” Zelena snapped.

“It has to be Nicholas he was the only abduction that had a witness. The only one that was ‘seen’.”

“That would mean that all the other kids were seen being taken. That everyone is lying and watched her take these kids. That Henry is lying and saw Roland-”

“Wait...Roland!”, Emma finally looked up, her eyes wide and mouth agape. “It has to be Roland!” When no one seemed to get it she continued. “She also mentioned ‘reflection’. You see your reflection in the mirror."

“What?”

“Roland was taken in the middle of the day. Roland is also the only one with a parental figure attached to mirrors.”

“What the bloody hell are you going on about?”

“Regina, if you focus on Roland through your mirrors we might be able to find the kids.”

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

Comics were clumsily strewn across the station’s floor. DVDs were thrown all around the room. The handheld was in pieces next to the wall. The cot and it’s bedding was flipped upside down and ripped apart. The abuser lay on all fours and panting. Voices and phantom noises ringing in her ears. Images flashed behind her eyelids. Her eyes burned with the tears that she held at bay. Her teeth were grinding into each other as she held back the frustrated screams that so desperately wanted to escape. The damn was about to break, the mask flaking off, the facade fading away. She was on the verge of letting it all out. Cracking her eyes open, trying in vain to catch her breath, preparing to let go. It was only when the fluorescent lights began flickering that she brought herself back from the edge of a breakdown.

Before she could lift herself off of the ground, a pair of sleek black oxfords appeared in front of her. She looked up to find a dark handsome man with a gleaming smile plastered on his face. She scrambled away from him while simultaneously trying to get to her feet. Though her movements were nervous, her eyes burned with fury.

“Such power in such a small, beautiful package.” His voice was like velvet she once wrapped herself in and longed for. Now, it only made her skin crawl.

Finally steady on her feet, she took a step back from the man before her.

“Why are you here? You’re not supposed to be here.”

He tilted his head. His eyes were full of curiosity and he seemed almost disappointed. “It seems that I’m at a disadvantage,” his disappointment faded away and he smirked, “but I have a feeling that the next we meet, the advantage will be mine.”

"What do you want?!” She demanded.

“I’ve just come to pay a visit to the newest resident in Storybrooke. Possibly make a deal?”

“Get out! You’re nothing more than a Dark One wannabe!”

The man pursed his lips. “I see a deal will not be made today. But we will make a deal that will benefit the both of us.”

The girl shook her head and snarled, “I will end you.”

“I’m sorry but that is not in your cards,” He chuckles. The lights flickered and she was once again left alone in her cell.

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

They all stood in front of Regina’s round, ornate mirror that once upon a time inhabited Sidney Glass. Regina raised her hand in front of the glass.

“Are we sure that this is what she meant? Mirrors didn’t work before and they might not work now,” said Zelena.

“There’s only one way to find out.” Regina said. Robin grabbed her hand and squeezed it in support. She closed her eyes and focused on the little boy she had come to care so much for. She thought of all the moments she shared with him and how she had come to think of him as her son. She poured her love and her magic into the mirror. Her fear of losing Roland and watching Robin lose the last remaining piece of his family made a tear roll down her cheek. Finally, the mirror shimmered and glowed. The looking glass rippled before landing on a scene of children running around and playing.

It’s them. It’s the kids.”

The mirror pivoted across the room and focused on Roland watching over a playpen that held three giggling infants.

“He’s okay,” whispered Regina. She squeezed Robin’s hand.

Emma smiled, “They all are.”

[snowbellewells]

@once-upon-a-pirate-ship The new recruits are an exciting addition for sure! Will is always great to have in fics, because he is such a fun character an the canon show did make neat enough use of him. And I loved OuaT’s Tink as well. Her reasons for joining them were absolute perfection - and I really liked that she seemed to see the tension and spark between Emma and Killian, from almost the first moment of meeting them. 💖

Emma’s memories of what happened the day she lost her family, and the full extent of Regina’s cold, calculated cruelty are really affecting here as well. It makes sense that Killian would be the one she speaks to about it first, and it shows just how in tune with her he is that he clearly sees what has truly been plaguing her, immediately assuring her that it cannot be her fault. “Killian believed in her. She’d known it since the very beginning, but her doubt had been strong enough to convince her it was a misled belief. But now, with his head bent in reverence and his startling eyes that wouldn’t waver from hers, she had no choice but to accept his words as truth.”

And then the way Emma wanted to strike out at Silver, the way her anger was for his treatment and desire to hurt Liam and Killian further more than anything he said to her. I loved how you made it absolutely clear he deserves whatever is coming to him, and also just how much Emma cares for the Brothers Jones, and means to care for anyone she cares for and loves.

Another great chapter!!

How Restlessly the Stars Do Gleam 3/?

Chapter 3: Moments Long Remembered

read it on AO3 here | from the beginning

chapter 1 | chapter 2

story summary: Princess Emma isn't the princess of much anymore. It's been months since her parents and brother were taken, and she's been on the run with her godmother Red. When Emma and Red board a merchant vessel to sail to Arendelle, Emma quickly finds that the captain is not to be trusted. After helping two slave brothers, Emma takes over the ship and begins her journey to save and rebuild her kingdom.

what's in store for chapter three? New characters (not new new, but new to this particular world)! Some background! Pining & tension!

thank you all for reading and staying with me even when I am too busy (just for this one week and a half time period) to post on schedule

Moments Long Remembered

On the worst day of her life, Princess Emma rode out far beyond the castle walls. She was alone, as she preferred solitary rides on her trusted horse, and the cold air was nothing to her as she raced through the snow covered forest. For a few hours each day, she got to feel entirely free. All responsibilities could wait, every forced smile was just a distant memory. She had no one to try to impress, no one who expected anything from her, no one who needed her to be someone she was not.

It wasn’t the excursion, nor the weather, nor the steed that made this day so horrible. Rather, it was the enemy who had breached the castle walls in her absence.

The most poignant part of this particular memory, for her, were the moments directly before she was made aware of the events inside the castle. She was at ease, content, blissfully happy and oblivious to the screams that tore through the halls she called home. She wasn’t worrying about her parents when they were stolen and taken far out of her reach. She didn’t consider her brother, her little lion cub, as he was yanked from the joy he knew and shown the truths of the world she’d wished he’d never have to learn.

Her happiness was shattered when the Evil Queen appeared before her, the black gown cutting across the crisp white snow in her path. Terror as she’d never known it dropped into her stomach as her hands gripped the reins and her horse skidded to a stop, and the fear that sliced down her spine was colder than the shards of ice that hung from each tree branch.

The Evil Queen’s mouth was curled into a wicked smile, white teeth framed by the wine color of her lips as she moved them to speak.

“Emma.”

But it was not the Evil Queen who stood in front of her now and called her name. It was her most trusted friend, her ally, her godmother, Red. The memory, as vivid as if it had only just happened, dissolved into nothing, sizzling in the early summer air as Emma blinked it away.

“Yes?”

“Liam and I are leaving,” Red told her, “I doubt we’ll be gone more than a few hours.”

Emma could’ve counted on one hand the number of times that she’d been separated from Red in the last months, and no matter how irrational it was, she couldn’t stop her muscles from tensing as if bracing for pain. But they needed some new crew, and Red was more than capable of the job.

“Good, good,” Emma said absently. She wished she had something more intelligent to say, but her mind was still fixated on moments long gone. “I’ll be here,” she added.

“Yes,” Red grinned, “you and Killian.” She didn’t give Emma time to inquire after the tone she’d used before Red turned and called, “Liam!”

Liam stood across the deck in conference with John Terry, but at the call of his name, he excused himself from his fellow sailor and joined Red and Emma where they waited by the gangplank.

“We shall return shortly,” Liam promised his captain. “I hope Killian won’t give you too much trouble,” he added in good humor.

“We’ll be just fine,” Emma told him. The trouble Killian Jones gave her was of a different nature, and she wasn’t about to disclose those particulars to his older brother.

Emma watched Liam and Red until they disappeared into the crowd past the docks, forcing her thoughts from straying to the fear that was an ever-present buzz in her blood. Instead, she planted herself on the steps leading up to the quarterdeck, her mind occupying itself with whatever it could latch onto.

As if her thoughts had summoned him, Killian appeared from below, offering Terry a few words as he passed on his way towards her.

“Swan!” he called, and her eyes immediately met his. He’d called her that three times that morning, and it hadn’t seemed unusual once. But perhaps that had less to do with the moniker and more to do with who had said it.

Killian dropped onto a step below hers, a gentle and genuine smile spreading across his lips. “Terry’s gathering his group and then they’ll be off,” he told her. “I double checked the list with the storeroom, and it seems that everything’s in order.”

“Perfect,” she replied, willing a coherent sentence to present itself as she looked away from his striking eyes.

“Tell me, Swan,” he began, his voice low, “do you always dress in a layer of knives, or do you save that for special occasions?”

She laughed, and it made her realize how long it had been since that had happened. Her head thrown back like that, the bounding joy in her chest—weeks, at least. Probably months, probably before that morning ride that featured the Evil Queen.

Emma leaned back a little, her hand going to the edge of the vest to pull out a blade and pass it to him. “Eight in total, four on each side,” she explained. “And yes, I’ve fixed every garment I have with some sort of weapons holder.”

Killian’s eyebrows shot up, glancing up at her from the knife he had been examining. “Isn’t that dangerous? How have you not injured yourself?”

“Not any more dangerous than being unarmed and running into some Black Knights,” she said with a shrug, glancing away to avoid his concerned gaze. “But each blade has a metal casing. That’s what keeps it from hurting me or tearing the fabric, and it snaps into place to stop it from falling out.”

His dark brows furrowed, his eyes flitting from the knife to where she’d pulled it from. “The casing, is it tricky?” he wondered. “Does it get stuck?”

“Only when I forget to clean them,” she replied. Without pausing to consider what she was doing, she reached for his free hand. “Here, try it,” she said, guiding his fingers to the spot on the other side of her vest.

Killian moved slowly, hesitantly, but he allowed her to line his fingertips against the hidden pocket. His eyes locked with hers, and that familiar tug and snapping of electricity surged between them.

“Just, um, push up a little until you feel a click, and then it’ll slide out,” she explained, slightly breathless despite the fact that she’d been sitting for several minutes.

His gaze didn’t stray from hers as he followed her directions, the thin handle of the blade dropping into his hand. She could feel his body heat like this, his hand against her waist, and it seemed like he was both too close and not close enough.

“Captain?”

Emma and Killian broke apart at the sound of Terry’s voice. She stood, brushing back some of the hair that had fallen out of place. “Yes?” she asked, glancing quickly at Killian who had returned to an upright position and was currently examining the two blades closely. The tips of his ears were red.

Terry smiled, and Emma pretended not to notice anything but politeness in it. “With your leave, Captain, we’re off.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” she replied, looking between him and the several crew members gathered a few feet behind. “I look forward to receiving your report upon your return.” It was best that she maintained the pretense of captain with the crew, according to Red. Something about safety or respect or concealing her identity from newcomers. She could hardly remember now.

Emma waited until they were out of sight before returning to her previous position, and Killian had recovered enough that the blush had even faded from his cheeks when he looked at her. He passed her the knives without a word.

He cleared his throat, forcing his eyes back to hers rather than where her fingers secured the blades. “You mentioned Black Knights,” he said, “have you fought many of them?”

It wasn’t that surprising of a question, honestly, given that she’d mentioned them off-handedly before. She just couldn’t figure out why she had mentioned it in the first place. Perhaps it was the same reason she showed him how her vest worked.

“Can you define ‘many’?” she asked, her voice calm and soft and not at all befitting the subject.

Killian’s eyes widened, his jaw tightening to restrain some emotion she couldn’t place. “It’s been…months,” he murmured. “You’ve been fighting them all this time?”

“Fighting them, running from them, gathering information from them,” Emma answered. “Until I figured out that she was tracking me with magic, at least.”

“What did you do?”

“Red got her hands on some potion,” she said, trying for a smile that ended up a little sad. “So that’s why we’re here now. And that’s why there’s not a single Black Knight searching this port.”

Killian was quiet for a moment, and it wasn’t until his jaw released its tension that he spoke. “What information?”

“At first, we tried to get them to tell us where my family was, but they’re not particularly talkative,” she explained, hoping she sounded more unaffected than she felt. “Eventually, we started following them, finding their camps. We spent weeks combing the forest, tracking their movements, and making maps of their locations.”

“Did you find them?”

The ghost of a smile on her lips was revealing. “We discovered where she’s holding my father. It’s remote, not to mention protected by battalions of Black Knights. Red and I are good, but we’re not that good.”

“That’s where Arendelle comes in,” he concluded. “You’re hoping they’ll help you to free him with magic.”

She sighed, her eyes trailing away from him and fixing themselves on the gangplank. “That’s our hope,” she said. “If I can get to my father, he’ll be able to find my mother. And I have no doubt they’ll make quick work of locating Leo.”

“You and your brother,” Killian continued after a moment, “are you close?”

The question was enough to bring happier, lighter memories to the forefront of her mind. “Very,” Emma replied. “He’s like light personified. Always overly enthusiastic, always making me laugh. But he’s driven, too. Spends all day in the practice yard unless I convince him to do something else.”

“He’s probably just trying to keep up with his sister,” Killian said, the beginnings of a smile on his lips.

“Maybe,” she allowed. But thinking about her brother fighting made her think about her brother losing, and then the guilt that had lived in her chest since that day slammed against her heart. “I wish I’d been there to protect him when he really needed me,” she confessed, and the words were almost shocking for her to hear. She’d thought about it again and again, but never had she voiced it, as if keeping it to herself made it less real.

“What happened, exactly?” Killian asked. “If you don’t mind sharing,” he added quickly.

“I used to go for a ride every morning,” she began, “and that morning was no different. Until the Evil Queen showed up and outlined her perfect plan to destroy my family one curse at a time.”

“She cursed all of you?”

“No,” Emma replied, a bitter laugh on her lips, “not me. Because the knowledge that my family is slowly dying while I am powerless to stop it…that’s a curse in its own right.”

“Swan,” Killian breathed, and the emotion in his voice was overwhelming. “I don’t pretend to know the specifics of the Evil Queen’s magic, but you must know that it wasn’t your fault. If your parents, your brother, your numerous castle guards couldn’t stop her, why do you think you’re to blame?”

He paused, shaking his head as he gathered his thoughts. “I have no doubt that you will defeat her, love, but it’s not only your combat skills that are going to take her down.”

Killian believed in her. She’d known it since the very beginning, but her doubt had been strong enough to convince her it was a misled belief. But now, with his head bent in reverence and his startling eyes that wouldn’t waver from hers, she had no choice but to accept his words as truth.

The guilt and the doubt didn’t evaporate into nothing, but their power over her waned.

Emma nodded—acknowledgement, gratitude, something else, she wasn’t sure—and they ventured into safer, less dramatic topics that allowed for a lighter atmosphere to settle over them.

Watching the ship, as it turned out, was not the most interesting job. There was very little for them to do except wait for the others to return, though Emma was relieved for something unexciting for a change. She needed the respite much more than she’d realized, and though the absence of constant panic was almost jarring enough to cause panic itself, she convinced herself that she was secure for the afternoon.

The first interruption to her temporary peace came when a figure appeared on the dock a few steps from the gangplank. Killian and Emma stood, their hands reaching for their swords in a synchronized motion that made the stranger chuckle softly.

“Exactly as Red described,” the woman said, pushing her hood back to reveal a heart-shaped face and blonde hair that was piled atop her head. “Permission to come aboard, Captain?” she asked, looking expectantly at Emma.

Emma relaxed at the mention of her godmother, but she did not alter her posture to show it. She nodded sharply, and Killian stepped forward to put himself between her and the stranger. The action wasn’t shocking or offensive to Emma’s pride; instead, it asserted the rank she held and the loyalty of those who followed her.

The woman was petite, but she moved with the surety of someone who had seen hardship and battle. “They call me Tink,” she informed them once she’d boarded. “I was told I could find you here.”

It took everything in Emma’s power not to revert to her diplomatic training. She could not smile politely, could not offer refreshments or entertainment. Here, she had to appear coarse and immoveable like the captain she was supposed to be, at least until they knew Tink could be trusted.

Killian, following her lead as always, did not falter to play his part. “What is your business here?”

“Friends of yours—Red and Liam—told me you’re looking for a few additions to your crew. I’d like to offer my services,” Tink said, unshaken by their front.

“Why?” Emma asked, and her gut pinched at the rude tone in her voice.

A smile spread across Tink’s face as she paused before speaking. “Well, they’d hardly tell me, would they?” She laughed at her own joke, and then continued, “But they seemed significantly more interested once they learned about my dislike for the Evil Queen, so I suspect that’s got something to do with it.”

“You have a personal vendetta?” Killian asked, though it didn’t quite seem like that much of a question.

Tink’s arms folded across her chest, the smile disappearing from her lips. “I’m an ex-fairy,” she replied, “and let’s just say that before I met Regina, I was not an ex-fairy.”

“And now you’re looking for revenge,” Killian offered.

“Justice,” Tink corrected. “But yes, I’d like to help in the fight against her.”

Emma glanced at Killian just as he was turning back to her, and their eyes locked for a moment. Had Red and Liam been there to witness the silent conversation that passed, there would have been a hushed discussion between them later. Without them there, the only acknowledgement of the event was Tink who smiled to herself.

“Joining this crew would guarantee a death at her hand if we’re caught,” Emma warned, her demeanor nearly returning to normal with Tink’s objective revealed.

Tink cocked her head slightly, her wide eyes studying Emma with a level of perception neither she nor Killian could comprehend. “You’re not just a captain, are you?”

“No.”

“You’re someone special,” Tink added, “I may not be a fairy anymore, but I can still feel it. Who are you?”

At this question, Killian tensed, his eyes scanning their surroundings. Once he’d determined that there was no one close enough to become a threat, he looked back at Emma, another silent inquiry.

Emma moved, a hand on his shoulder to calm him as she passed, and when she stood directly in front of Tink, she almost felt like the princess she hadn’t been in months.

“My name is Emma, and I am the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming.”

The shock on Tink’s face was less than Emma had anticipated, but the grin that replaced it eased her worries. “I knew you weren’t just running,” she said, “and I would be honored to join you in saving your kingdom and your family. Beating Regina is simply a bonus.”

Emma offered her hand to shake, and Tink accepted both the gesture and the wordless accord that came with it. “Welcome aboard,” Emma said.

--

Emma returned above deck from checking the storeroom with Terry, finding Killian speaking with Tink and the other sailor who had been sent by Red and Liam before the suppliers had made their way back.

August Booth was a man who could be charming when he wished to be, but the scowl that had overtaken his expression upon the mention of the Evil Queen left Emma with no doubt of his loyalty. He asked fewer questions than Tink, but his curious eyes were revealing to anyone who cared to look.

To any passing observer, Killian looked relaxed as he stood before the two crew members. His shoulders were back, his left hand resting casually against the hilt of his sword. But Emma could tell by the angle of his neck that he was watching the pier for unexpected visitors, and the set of his feet prepared him for a fight.

“It’s definitely a step up from the last ship I sailed on,” Tink said, her nose wrinkling at a distasteful memory.

“I’m afraid my sailing experience is limited to what I’ve learned in the last few months,” August said with a glance towards Killian, “but I’ve been told that I’m a fast learner, so I hope the captain won’t throw me off at the next port.”

Killian chuckled, “So long as you follow orders, you’ll be fine.”

Emma was pleased to find that Killian had warmed somewhat to August, as he’d been uncharacteristically sharp upon meeting him. While Emma had eased into the topic of the Evil Queen, Killian had been skeptical and quick to determine August’s exact beliefs regarding Emma’s family. August’s father had been murdered when Regina had torn apart the village outside the castle, and though Emma read his grief and anger as nothing threatening to her, Killian had bluntly asked if August found the former king and queen at fault in the tragedy.

Now she leaned casually against the mainmast, neither announcing herself nor bothering to hide to effectively eavesdrop as she watched the group while they talked.

“I’ve heard that the princess is quite the fighter,” August added, studying Killian carefully as he spoke.

It was not the sun that brought red to Killian’s cheeks and to the tips of his ears. “Aye, I have yet to see her equal,” he admitted, making no attempt to mask the pride in his voice.

“Do you suppose she’d agree to a demonstration later?” Tink wondered.

“We could prove our worth with a sword,” August offered, grinning at the prospect.

“You’d have to ask her yourself,” Killian replied. “I’d be happy to spar with you both if you’d like. I don’t pretend to be as skilled as the princess, but I can manage well enough.”

Before Emma could interrupt to agree to the demonstration, a creak of the wood and a flash of movement from the corner of her eye brought her attention away from them. Her defensive instincts sputtered when she recognized Red and Liam, though the third person to step onto the gangplank was a stranger to her.

Killian reacted as she’d expected him to, turning away from Tink and August to meet his brother. They exchanged a nod that held unspoken words, and when Killian stood before the potential crew member, his body language conveyed his reserve. Tink and August fell back, acknowledging Red and Liam without moving towards the man.

“This is Will Scarlet,” Red announced, not meeting Emma’s gaze though she was aware of her presence.

Will Scarlet had no scabbard to hold his sword, but rather a knife that was secured in a leather casing along his belt. His lips were pressed into a tight line, his gaze traveling from each person until it settled on Emma, and she had a feeling that he knew more than he should’ve with a single glance. It was the kind of thing that one learned when forced to, the ability to read a person’s intentions by their movements and everything they did not say.

“I suppose you’re the captain,” he said, causing every eye to shoot towards her. His tone was casual, unaffected, but there was a gravity in his posture that revealed something much more intense.

Emma nodded slowly, but she didn’t move from her position as she leaned against the mast. Her gaze drifted from Will to Killian in a flicker, but she focused back on the stranger before a second had passed.

“I hope our choices have been acceptable thus far, Captain,” Liam said, more a question than a statement. The tone was unfitting of the camaraderie they’d achieved, maintaining the pretense of rank in front of Will.

“Indeed,” Emma replied. She paused, testing the bounds of their attentiveness and therefore respect. No one moved, no one breathed, all waiting for her to speak as they knew she would. There were many differences between acting as a captain and acting as a princess, but commanding the attention of a room, or a deck, was a similarity.

“I was about to consent to a sparring exercise—a demonstration, if you will—for our new recruits when you arrived,” she continued. When her eyes landed on Will, she made a show of studying him. “I assume that you carry no sword because you have no need of one,” she added.

The corners of his lips twitched, his hand patting the leather case that held his knife. “They’re a waste of metal, if you ask me,” he told her, “I prefer to keep things simple.”

She hummed, gauging his expression to determine if he boasted a skill level that he did not possess. “And you believe that you deserve a place on this ship?” she asked, pushing his temper, his pride, to see if she could find a weak spot.

“What I do or do not deserve isn’t important, is it?” he replied, a grumbling sound that came from his throat that revealed either a mild irritation or anger directed towards a third party. “The way I see it, it’s what the Evil Queen deserves that really matters,” he nearly spat, though there was no lack of control in his voice.

Emma, though she couldn’t admit it without first determining Will’s loyalty, was impressed. His eyes burned with a familiar enduring rage that she had seen each time she’d looked in the mirror.

“I’m guessing you’re aware of the risks you’d be taking should you join us?” Emma asked, measuring each shift in his expression for anything alarming.

“I’d hardly be here if I couldn’t face the consequences,” Will said. “And you’re not the first crusade against the Evil Queen that I’ve joined, although Red seems to think you’d give me a better chance than that lot ever did.”

“We beat her or we die trying,” Emma told him as she pushed herself off the mast and moved a few steps towards him, all the ferocity she’d been attempting to hide away behind the sadness and the guilt leaking out in her voice. “Are you ready for that?”

Will grinned, his eyes darkening. “You can count on it, Captain.”

Emma didn’t wait more than a moment before she turned to face the others. “Red, fill him in. Liam, make sure Terry’s ready to set sail and get us going. I want us in the wind before sunset, and we’ve got a prisoner to hand over before we can leave,” she ordered, though her tone had dropped the unforgiving command as she surrendered her facade. “Killian, show our newest allies to their quarters once Scarlet has been briefed, and then I’d like you and your brother to join me in escorting Silver off this ship.”

No one hesitated to obey the second she finished speaking, and though Killian lingered to hold her gaze for a long moment, he said nothing. Emma could not regret this, because there was no lack of communication in his sparkling eyes.

--

Violence had always been a part of her life. It was a byproduct of her existence, a necessity, a simple truth. But before her last ride from the castle, she had never considered herself a violent person. True violence was always accompanied with a driving force beyond rationality, perhaps a hatred, a passionate fury, or bloodlust. Those particular feelings did not promote impartiality or decorum, and they had certainly never been a part of her training. But as Emma walked behind the Jones brothers, watching Silver stumble and fight against his restraints and the firm hands of Killian and Liam, she felt at least two of those three feelings.

He hadn’t come quietly, neither physically nor verbally passive, and the bit of cloth preventing him from speaking had been a necessary addition. He had swung at her and at the brothers, he had tried to kick and scratch at them before the rope had limited his movements, but none of that had affected her the way his words had.

It was not his insults towards her that had stirred the violent feelings she felt now, but rather it was his cutting remarks aimed at Liam and Killian that had led to the swelling cheek he now brandished.

She had known cruelty—hell, she had looked it in the eye and watched its wine-colored lips smile at her—but she had never known it quite like this. Because Silver held no power. He would hang, he would die, he would never be seen by any of them again, and yet he still attempted to slice at the brothers and prod every wound he believed they had. He was a desperate man, she knew. He was a coward. He was a fool.

Silver was defenseless, hopeless, powerless, and yet Emma still wished to draw her sword and cut him the way he’d tried to cut the Jones brothers.

Her hand curled around the hilt of her sword, her grip so tight that it nearly hurt her to hold it. She focused on her steps rather than the anger that swirled in her chest, the hatred that shuddered in her stomach and traveled up to her shoulders and made them tremble as she restrained herself.

Liam spoke quickly and efficiently with the jailor when they arrived, and Emma kept herself three paces behind them to prevent her violence from pushing her to interfere. There were a few formalities that took some time to sort out, some documents to sign verifying witnesses, and the only thing that held Emma back was the look on Killian’s face.

It didn’t lack the anger she felt, but his was the expression of a man resolved. He accepted Silver’s fate and wished for nothing more. His fists did not clench in preparation of beating him, his lips did not part to issue his sentence or even a parting taunt that bragged of flipped roles or lost and gained freedom. If Killian could watch the man who had carved lines into his back with near equanimity, what right did she have to act on her desires?

She signed her name Emma Swan, gave Silver one last pointed glare, and then she led the brothers back towards their ship, eager to put as much distance as possible between them and this port.

[seriouslyhooked]

When We Collide (Part 5)

Emma Swan has always known one thing: trust no one but yourself. Unfortunately she forgot her one rule and now she’s paying for it. One bad decision led her to the monstrous ‘Crocodile’ a mobster in New York who goes by the name Gold. Hope seems lost until she meets another person in this underworld, Killian Jones. Despite the place they find each other, a true love blossoms, and they manage to get away. But what will happen when Emma discovers who Killian really is? Will love prevail? Um, yeah, I’m writing this, so duh – it’s all love all the time. Fic features motorcycles, hot guys in leather cuts, and a bit of action/drama. Will end happily, and despite the first chapter, will be light on angst. Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4. Available on FanFiction Here and AO3 Here.

A/N: Hey everybody! First and foremost, just want to thank those of you still on this journey with me. My motivation to write has been so much lower than I thought it would be, but I haven’t lost sight of what I want from this fic and I am happy to finally share a new installment. This chapter brings a last burst of road trip fluff and the build up to a big moment  – Emma’s introduction to Killian’s life in the MC. It’s going to be fun to explore these dynamics in the next few chapters, but for now I hope you will enjoy, and I can’t wait to see what you all think. Thanks so much for reading!

In the quiet, tranquil calm of a woodland morning, Killian watched the cabin bedroom fill with sunlight, bringing the softest golden glow to the rustic room where he and Emma had spent the night. Birds chirped to greet the new day’s light, and the gentle breeze among these mountains brushed branches from a nearby oak against the windowpane. The whistle of the wind and the gentle swish of leaves on glass melded together into something deeply familiar, a symphony of sound, the song of sunrise.

Sadly, this song was the last of its kind that Emma and Killian would enjoy on this journey. The final portion of their cross-country trek would come today, and when they arrived back home, a new reality would set in. Things would change drastically, Killian would have to reengage with a life he’d long ago left behind, yet despite the challenges that awaited him, Killian was astounded at the peace he could feel in this moment. Holding Emma as she still lay sleeping, he was filled with contentment, choosing to anchor himself to something that would be forever constant: his love for this incredible woman.

“You’re doing it again,” Emma murmured, stirring from sleep and already entirely aware of him before she’d so much as opened her eyes.

Killian let the sultry sound of her sleep-laced voice wash over him. It sent a similar sensation coursing through him as the soft brush of her fingertips over his chest. Strumming an unknown melody, her hands on his skin lit him up inside, and though he’d just taken her a few hours ago, he was already ready to devour her again. Strewn out like this, in the glow of early morning, Emma was a vision with gold hair and sun kissed skin. She was stunning, and through the grace of God and all good things, she was miraculously his. The thought of that gave him great comfort and his own hold on her tightened ever so slightly. In truth, he was so distracted he nearly forgot to answer her sassy statement, but the smile that appeared at her lips as her green eyes opened for the day demanded that he ask for more.

“Doing what, love?”

“You’re loving me so much that I simply can’t sleep through it.”

Another man would deny such a cheesy proclamation, or deflect from the depth of his feelings, but not Killian. No, his Swan had called him to the floor, and she was right. He was up this morning thinking only of his love for her, and while other thoughts may threaten to encroach on their time together, he had pushed them all aside. She was the best way to stay grounded and centered, and he was selfish, needing to soak up every last drop of their moments together just to keep his peace of mind.

“I’d offer some condolences, Emma, but I think we both know how you feel about my loving you.”

He murmured the words against her skin, taking advantage of her lingering drowsiness to pepper kisses on her lips, her jaw, and then the hollow of her neck. He hummed out a sound of sheer delight when he felt her shiver beneath him, and when she let out that perfect moan of hers, the one that was part gasp and part plea for more, he was lost. All conversation was behind him, and he knew the only thing left was to show her how much he loved her. Luckily for Killian, nothing had ever come so naturally.

The choice he must make this morning was between a fast and hard claiming, or a slow, steady savoring of two souls becoming one. The payoff for either was bound for greatness, but Killian was keenly aware of how everything would soon be different. Once they arrived back with his brothers, the solitude they’d cultivated would be encroached on, and though Killian had his own house, which could provide ample space and privacy, he also had a sneaking suspicion that his brother and fellow club members would be highly invested in him and his woman. After weeks of it being just the two of them, Killian knew he’d have to share Emma’s attentions, and that he too would have to interact with people other than his Swan. It would all be good in the end, but he wanted to make the most of these last truly secluded moments that they had together.

The teasing slowness of his ministrations became a torturous affair not just for Emma, but for him as well. He began by tasting her everywhere, tracing every line and curve of her, with extra attention paid to the places that made her blood sing. He hung on every breath she released, and every charged call of his name that whispered past her lips. When she came apart from his touch alone, his sense of pride surged dramatically, but the most beautiful sight was when she relaxed back into that post-climax moment, gazing at him with love in her eyes and nothing but a soul-deep contentment in her heart. It made a man feel worthy to know he had put that look on his woman’s face, and for Killian it was the closest he would ever feel to absolution. He’d done wrong in this life, made choices that veered well off the path of what was good or moral, but somehow, she still loved him, and Killian was better for that love.

By the time she was ready to be taken, Killian was so riled, his senses were frayed in all directions. Knowing that he was already worked up, Emma decided to push him further, murmuring that she loved him and asking him to make her his. The searing heat of his need for her was constant, but the feeling when he thrust inside and claimed her was the most agonizingly incredible feeling in the world. Nothing should feel this right, or this perfect, but with Emma it always did. Their rhythm was synced to perfection, their love palpable in the air around them, and though Killian did his best to savor every bit of it he could, it always felt like it was over far too soon. All it took was Emma arching her back, crying out in ecstasy, giving over to bliss, and he was right there with her, spent but saved and feeling like despite the uneasiness of this next moment, he and Emma could handle anything.

“Whatever happens today, it won’t change anything,” Emma said, her fingers running through his hair that was growing longer than he normally allowed it. She pushed it out of his face, before looking into his eyes and smiling in a way that melted his heart. “I love you, and I always will.”

“It’s the same for me, love, but rest assured, if you feel even the slightest discomfort, we will move on. We’re bound to nothing but each other.”

“Killian, this is your home -,” she began. He quieted her thought with a kiss before clarifying the truth to her.

“You are my home, Emma. Wherever you wish to be is where we will be, and I will be the happiest man alive just for being by your side.”

Emma readily accepted this promise from him, whispering that she felt the same as they continued to laze for a while more together, enjoying their connection and soaking in this last bit of privacy. Eventually, they had to get up and check out from this retreat, and they moved through the morning with a practiced precision of two people who had done this for weeks. Travelling had become second nature to them both, and the six-hour ride standing between them and his brothers would be easily managed.

For Killian, the journey honestly felt too short, though he made sure to stop and keep a steady pace for Emma’s sake. He knew she had never been to California before, and there was something magical about this place compared with every other. It was easily the most beautiful of the terrain they’d been in for weeks as well, and in Big Sur specifically, there was a natural beauty totally unique to this corner of the world. Giant forests rose impossibly high into the sky, a cross between the woods of the pacific northwest and the jungles of South America. Trees stood so tall the tops could not be seen, and even in patches where fires had blazed in seasons past, life prevailed, with green vegetation growing from ash and soot and dust. When they reached the ocean, Killian felt Emma’s hold on him tighten, an indicator of her excitement, but he still drove quite a few miles down the cliff-lined coastal highway before pulling off to stop.

“Now this is the kind of view I could get used to,” Emma murmured as he helped her off the bike, taking in the secluded patch of beach they’d driven towards where not a soul was nearby. With her hand in his, Killian immediately felt stronger, but the look on Emma’s face prompted a gentle, pleasant aching in his heart. She was happy to be here, in awe of this place, and to Killian that meant everything.

“We’re closing in on our destination now, love. We’ll be back well within the hour if we drive straight through, but there’s something I would very much like to show you, if you’re interested.”

“Lead the way, Captain.”

He led her down the pebbled path to the seaside, torn between watching her reactions and actually navigating their course. The best part of this was that Emma had no idea what was coming. They’d approached from the perfect angle, preserving a truly hidden gem from sight. Only when they rounded the corner would she see it, and as they made their move, he heard her gasp and felt her hand squeeze his tightly.

“Oh my God… I don’t even have words for how beautiful this is.”

Killian completely understood the feeling, though his own sensation of being struck speechless by something truly stunning often came directly from Emma. In this case, the beauty in question was an old, yet faithfully enduring shore house. It was painted white, weathered from storms, but still well-kept and largely preserved against the passage of time. The nearby community saw to it, since the owners of the home had long since gone. This shoreline was all public lands now, but the house remained, a testament to the man who once lived there, a gifted artist, and a natural born storyteller.

The remnants of his decades old art were painted, drawn, and constructed into the very foundation of this home and the mediums of expression were all treasures from the sea. Sea glass especially was plentiful here, drawing dizzying swirls of color along the house, the wood working and more. The glass had been cemented there for decades, but it shone with the same fervor and sparkle as ever. Shells of all shades, some whole and some not, were also used. Iridescent golden hued pieces, hewn from the mix of cold ocean water and warmer kelp garden pools were the stars of the show. They were each a small treasure uniquely found along these rocky coasts, often collected by the sea otters who called this sea shore home. This collection of the rare shells was astounding, and made all the more beautiful by being mixed in with others that were delicate shades of white and ivory and some that were a cooler oyster blue. They hung from wind chimes in the beach trees and off the lanterns, while some darker shells had been ground down to a painted stain that had been used in part to tattoo larger rocks that were too big for the sea to claim. Wherever the eye looked it was drawn to spiraling shapes and stories, never running out of objects to admire.

“How have I never heard of this? And how are we possibly the only ones here?” Emma asked, moving closer and looking at the intricate designs of shells and stones that had been added to the sands and earth more recently. A local commission of artists was in charge of these added displays of beauty, updating them occasionally, but usually waiting for nature to clear the slate. After a big storm where rainwater washed it all away, or higher tides than normal where the sea came just to the house’s front steps, new designs were created and enacted. But it was clear that there had only been sun for some time, and they were fresh on the heels of an exceptionally well-done redesign.

“Very few people know of this place, love. It’s a secret that is guarded by the people of this town so tightly you’ll find no books or blogs or trace of it anywhere. Liam and I are two very rare exceptions, outsiders with the good fortune to know it’s here.”

“How did that happen?” Emma asked, leaning into him and eager for the story from his past.

“My brother and I needed escape when we were here with our father, but we had little means of finding it,” he admitted, bracing himself for talk of that past life, and knowing he should get used to it now that they were nearly home. “The sea was the only thing of comfort for both of us, and we came to it as often as we could. We scoured every last bit of the coast, and I mean every bit. One day we landed here, and happened upon this house as we were searching the coastline for unknown coves. It was easily the best find we ever made. Of course, we nearly scared the life out of the woman who was crafting the shellscape that day, and once she alerted the other town’s people there was a big to do. We were sworn to secrecy and all the like. We never did tell a soul. It remained our secret – one idyllic hideaway from the world we lived in.”

“But now you’ve broken your oath,” Emma said, looking at him curiously, though she was clearly glad for his breach of that old promise.

“Some may believe that.”

“But you don’t?”

“No, love. I believe the promises I have made and will make to you supersede any others. Besides, I am fairly certain that the promise is null when it comes to my wife.”

“Funny, I don’t remember getting married,” Emma said, though her teasing was a front for the rush of emotions she was feeling. “In fact, I don’t even remember you proposing.”

Let’s change that, he thought to himself knowing he had the ring in his pocket right now, but reason won out in the end, and he remembered his plan. He wanted to get Emma totally settled into their new life first, and to make sure she was ready in all ways. He knew she loved him and that she would be his forever, but it was only right to ensure that he do things properly.

“Soon enough, love. You have my word on that.”

Emma grinned at his affirmation, pulling him down by the collar of his leather jacket and kissing him passionately. When they broke apart, she asked him to promise they’d come back here and he did, and after a bit more time in this private oasis, they headed back to the road, driving towards their destination once more.

The ride along the coast was quick, far quicker than he remembered, and when they pulled off the coastal highway and to the discrete exit leading to the town he’d once grown up in, Killian could sense Emma’s surprise. They didn’t need to share a conversation for him to gauge her apprehension and excitement. She was no doubt wondering if they were really going to be living amongst this dense and beautiful forest. It would be a big change from her life in the cities she’d always known.

Soon enough they made it to the town line, reading the hunter green placard that announced their arrival. Unsure of what he expected, Killian was surprised to see just how much improvement had been made in his time away. Their town had always been quaint, but it could easily be described as ‘down on its luck’ when he was a boy. He knew it was his brother’s hope to not only remove the stain of his father’s shady dealings, but to help revitalize this community in a way that had been lacking for decades. But when Killian departed to seek his revenge on Gold, those ideas were mere figments of a would-be dream.

Liam has truly made good, he thought to himself as they cruised down the main street. Here along the town’s center there were new businesses and old ones that had been repaired and shaped for competing in the world today. Things were still classic and beachy, but the energy around it all gave away two important facts: the first was that this town was being tended to and cared for by its tenants, the second was that it was also being protected, and that anything that may threaten this currently peaceful ecosystem would not be allowed.

In this stretch of the ride, Killian could see some familiar faces in the mix, people from his old life in this town who were going about their day to day none the wiser about his return. There were also quite a few new faces as well, but Killian could spot the tourists right away. Their biggest tell was their fixation on his bike. People who lived in this region regularly would be densensitized, and since Liam had imposed a safety parameter for the town from other gangs, they wouldn’t bat an eye, even at a biker without his cut.  

Not far beyond the center of town was the Den, the once large warehouse that had been reconfigured to fit the Land Pirate members and families when need be. When he was here last, the place was little more than a dump, with tell-tale signs of partying strewn about both outside and within. There was also a crappy, rusted gate around the perimeter that did the job of securing the place on some level, but had always been a huge eyesore. Gone was all of that, and in its stead was higher tech, better quality fencing. The Den was now fortified, and Killian could see the precautions put in place that passersby may not realize were installed. He also took note of the probie standing guard at the entrance.

Well this should be interesting, Killian thought as he drove up. He had no idea who this probationary member of the club was. Killian would have to explain who he was and that could get awkward. But before he had the chance the unknown man was speaking.

“Well I’ll be damned. Pres was right. Hook’s come home again.”

“Pres?” Emma whispered and Killian replied quietly.

“That’s Liam’s title here, love.”

“And Hook?”

“My road name.” Emma nodded, taking it all in stride as Killian turned his attention back to the probie. “So, he’s expecting me then?”

“Has been for weeks. You sure took your time getting out here, Hook.”

He looked at the probationary patch on the man’s Land Pirates leather cut and saw the stitched name ‘Mouse.’ Had to be a story behind that name. Didn’t exactly blend with the others who were patched in when Killian was here. “How do you even know who I am?”

“You kidding? You’re a legend, man, and so is she.”

For a minute Killian tensed up, thinking that Mouse was talking about Emma. He was feeling protective, and didn’t like the idea of other men looking her way unless they were going to show the proper respect. Only when Emma let out a laugh did he realize his mistake.

“Oh my God, you mean the bike! That’s classic. Please tell me it has a name.” Emma’s joking was incredibly apparent, and Killian was surprised at how nonplussed she was by their being on unknown turf.

“She,” Mouse stressed and Emma bit back her laugh, but her body still shook with it. “And yeah, bikes get names.”

“Wait don’t tell me. This will be way more fun if I can guess. Hmm, Harley? No that’s kind of obvious. Uh, I mean what do you call a gendered bike? Kind of a tall order… Oh I know, Lady. Kind of on the nose with the whole ‘it’s a she’ thing, but it works, right?”

Killian chuckled at the way Emma was enjoying herself, and he noticed the look of shock on the probie’s face. Clearly he didn’t understand the situation. This was no ordinary woman on the back of his ride giving him shit for having named his bike. This was the most important person in his world, and no one, club member or not, was going to question that.

“Look, kid, my woman and I have been on the road for awhile. We could use the rest, and it’s probably best not to keep my brother waiting anymore.” The overt use of the label for Emma created a total mood shift in Mouse. He had taken the hint.

“Absolutely, Hook. Ma’am.”

The change in tone as he nodded at them and buzzed them through to the compound was pronounced, so much so that Emma mentioned it when they parked and she stepped off the motorcycle.

“Is the somewhat caveman ‘me man, she my woman’ thing baked into this whole MC life?” Emma asked, her brow arched even as a smile teased at her lips. “I’m not complaining, per se. Just curious if I’ll have to announce my belonging to you everywhere I go.”

“Probies are probies for a reason, love, and the reason is they’ve got a whole lot to learn and more than one thing to prove. The men in this club with a patch, my brothers, they know better than to disrespect a woman, Old Lady or not.”

“Ah right, I forgot about that charming title. I don’t know who possibly came up with that one. ‘Old Lady.’ It’s so… unflattering. Had to be a man.”

“In this world, you can blame nearly everything on a man, love,” Killian quipped and Emma grinned at his assessment before continuing to lament the biker term for a man’s significant other.

“I honestly thought I’d have a few years before getting called ‘old lady’ and even then it would be by bratty neighborhood kids, not hot guys in leather who name their motorcycles.” Killian growled at the mention of men being hot and Emma teased him with a nip against his lips that was designed to have him wanting more but was only meant in jest. “But don’t worry, I’ll make up for all of this somehow. I’m gonna find you the perfect partner nickname that undercuts how irresistibly sexy I find you in all your leather. I just need a little time.”

“You can call me any damn thing you want, Emma. As long as you call me yours.”

The words were honest and immediately shifted the sass of Emma’s commentary to something softer. Instinctively, she placed a gentle and loving kiss on his lips before they both turned to the warehouse. Together they walked hand in hand towards the door, and when they entered, Killian held his breath. Would this place look like the nightmare of his youth? The place he’d have fought through anything to get away from? It took only the briefest moment to see those worries were unfounded.

Killian was utterly relieved at how normal the Den looked, and how the relic of old had been completely rehabilitated. The general concept was the same, starting with a vastness in the entrance that made it seem like this place went on forever. The entryway blended into a great room where club members and guests spent a lot of time, and in the back there’d surely be more changes to go along with these ones. Killian knew the kitchen and living quarters, the war room and Liam’s office all would have been revamped if this part of the warehouse was. But this communal space in particular held a lot of painful memories. The ghosts of this place had haunted him for some time, but they were nearly all cast away by the warmth and modern makings of this renovation. It made Killian want to see more, something he never truly believed was possible, but as curious as Killian was, there simply wasn’t time. Soon the renovation was forgotten, and instead he was faced with the all important figure standing there, waiting for him after years of no contact. 

“Liam.” 

…

Post-Note: So I know I have stopped it right at the start of a hugely important reunion, but I fully intend to make up for it in the next chapter. Introducing the actual MC is going to be such fun for me, but, as with this chapter, it may take some time before I have a next installment out. My muse has been tricky, but I am hoping to get a bigger chunk of my story, ‘Feels Like This’ written by the end of the year so I can hopefully finish it up. Anyway, I would love to hear what you all thought of this chapter, and as always, I really appreciate you all reading and thank you so much for the support! Until next time!

[snowbellewells]

CS Fic Rec Monday: "Of Thieves, Smugglers, and Reformed Hearts" by: @lenfaz

Oh my goodness!! I read this short MC of @lenfaz's last evening and could do nothing but smile and chuckle and feel my heart swell all the way through! It's so lovely and just a joy from start to finish. I love the divergent Storybrooke setting with Granny helping along the well-meaning rogues in need of a fresh start. (Will and Belle are particularly priceless - though of course our pirate and princess are adorable as well! ;)

If you, like me, had missed this story until now, do yourself a favor and check it out!!

"Of Thieves, Smugglers, and Reformed Hearts" by: @lenfaz