#the fact that this teenager who ran away from home was offered his delicious husband treats makes him so mad its so funny

[floorpancakes]

hi yeah its me im thinking about this fucking scene again

[justagirlwritingherlilheartout]

Doll (FP Jones - Riverdale)

Request: Hello I wanted to ask you if you could make a series on fp jones with reader it is the mother of jughead and that jellybean is his half sister please

Summary:The story of FP’s first love, the mother of his son Jughead. 

I’m really excited about this and i’m planing to make a second part or more parts if you all want. 

Please tell me what you think. 

‘’Jug! Yell! Breakfast.’’ Y/N called out, putting two sandwiches and two apples in two paper bags. ‘Ju-’’

‘’Yeah, yeah,  i’m here.’’ A black haired boy cut her off before sitting down at the desk and digging in the eggs and the bacon on the plate in front of him.

‘’Good morning, sunshine.’’ Y/N smiled as she walked to him and kissing his forehead before giving him his orange juice.

‘’Morning mum.’’ He replied not showing any emotion just as Jelly  bean walked in the kitchen and joined her brother.

‘’Morning Yelly, how did you sleep?’’

‘’Good.’’ She replied, mirroring her brothers lack of emotion. Y/N still, after all this years, found it fascinating how much her son and his sister were alike.

‘’Well, you two, enjoy your breakfast and have a good day at school.’’ She told them before kissing Jellybean’s forehead and grabbing her coat. ‘’I can pick you guys up from school… if you two aren’t too afraid to look uncool with your mum picking you up.’’

‘’Nah, mum, you’re cooler than any of my friend’s mom’s’’ Jellybean told her with her mouth full of scrambled eggs.

‘’Aww thank you sweet pea, but i meant that you’ll look uncool compared to me.’’ Y/N winked making them both laugh.

‘’Your lunch is in the counter. See you after school.’’ She blew a kiss their way before grabbing her purse and walking out the doors.

‘’Hey there, doll.’’ A deep voice made the woman jump.

‘’FP, how many times do I have to tell you to stop sneaking up on me like that!?’’ She turned around, only to come face to face with her man.

‘’Can’t help it, you’re too cute when you’re scared.’’ His hands found their all to familiar spot on her hips as he pulled her close and places a soft kiss on her lips.

‘’I’ll give you cute. When I murder you in your sleep, Forsythe Pendleton, in your sleep.’’

‘’I’d like to see you try.’’ He chuckled before kissing her again.

‘’Don’t test me, FP.’’ She tried to fight a smile as she turned around and walked to her car.  

-

As she drove  she couldn’t help but think about how her life has turned up side down in the last couple of years. 4

She and FP first met  when she was in high school, where they hooked up at one of the parties in the south side.

*

‘’Well don’t you look like the most delicious thing ‘round here?’’ A  guy that was probably twice her age asked Y/N, making her roll her eyes in annoyance.

‘’Also the most underage thing ‘round here, so move along.’’ She told him, mimicking his accent before waving her head as if to shush him away.

‘’Is that so? How are you in a bar then?’’ He asked with a smirk, showing his yellow teeth.

‘’Magic.’’ She  shrugged walking away.

‘’How about i show you a magic trick or two?’’ The man grabbed her arm pulling her into him.

‘’Dude let go!’’ She tried to pull away from him.

‘’Cmon honey, I’ll show you a good tim-.’’

‘’She’s not interested, Topaz!’’ A deep voice interrupted the guy, making him let go of her.

‘’C’mon Jones, I got her first. Go get yourself another one.’’ The guy, Who’s name was apparently Topaz.

‘’You didn’t.’’ The tall dark and handsome stranger shrugged, his voice icy and demanding. ‘’She’s with me. We’re together.’’ He wrapped an arm around Y/N’s waist, pulling her close to him and away from the old guy.

‘’Oh,’’ The guy let go of her and took a step back. ‘’Have at it then.’’ And with that he walked away.

‘’Thanks.’’ Y/N smiled up at her saviour, who still had his arm around her, keeping her close, not that she minded, of course.

‘’Oh, I didn’t do it for you. You owe me a drink now.’’ He said with a wink.

‘’Is that so?’’ She raised an eyebrow at him.

‘’Mhm.’’ He nodded and lead her to the bar.  ‘’What’cha drinking?’’

‘’Whiskey will do.’’ She said, not being able to keep her eyes of him. There was something about him, that just attracted her to him. Even tho he was a stranger she felt safe with him.

He sent her a look that said ‘if you say so’ and ordered two whiskeys. ‘’I’m FP’’ He introduced himself as he gave her her glass.

‘’Y/N.’’ She said before taking her glass  and clicking it to his glass before bringing it to her lips, not breaking eye contact with him and drinking it.

‘’So, Y/N, what brings you to the south side?’’ He asked, his eyes sparkling with fascination.

‘’I’m a teenager, I’m rebelling against my parents.’’ She said with a matter of fact-y voice. ‘’And you? FP Jones, what’s your secret?’’

‘’I see.’’ He chuckled at her sarcasm. ‘’No secrets here, doll.’’

‘’If you say so.’’ She shrugged. ‘’FP… What  does that stand for?’’

He leaned in closer so his lips were brushing against her ear. ‘’If I told you, I would have to kill you.’’

‘’No secrets, huh?’’ She bit her lip, hoping he won’t notice her blushing.

‘’Give me one good reason for me to tell you and i will.’’ He smirked, leaning back against the bar, his eyes travelling up and down her body shamelessly.

Maybe it was the alcohol, or it was those dark eyes of his but she stepped closer to him, her lips inches away from his. ‘’So i’ll know which name to scream out when i come…’’ She could see his eyes widen, ‘’back to the south side, and i need a saviour.’’ She said after a pause.

‘’Well aren’t you something.’’ He smirked.

‘’Apparently so.’’ She smiled sitting down on the stool next to him.  

They ended up talking for hours, and one thing lead to another and she ended up spending the night.

-

She was an uptown girl, making her and the 23 year old southside prince the perfect Romeo and Juliet of Riverdale. After that party neither of them could stop thinking about one another. So the serpent asked her out. It was the chilche of him asking her out and she refusing time after time, until one day she gave in. They did not know it at the time but she had gotten pregnant after the first time they were together.

As soon as her parents found out that their lovely daughter was knocked up by the south side trash, they kicked her out.

*

‘’This won’t work.’’ A 17 year old Y/N told her boyfriend of 3 months.

‘’What did i do now?’’ FP Jones rolled his eyes.

‘’Nothing,’’ She crossed her arms in front of her, in a desperate attempt to hide the fact that her stomach was getting bigger and bigger. ‘’I’m moving.’’

‘’Where?’’

‘’To my gramps.’’ She said, not telling him she was pregnant with his baby.

‘’What about school?’’

‘’I’ll finish it there.’’

‘’Why?’’ He kept his face neutral but his clenched fists and tensed posture told another story.

‘’They have a better program, with AP classes for uni..’’ She shrugged as if she hadn’t planed all of the answers in advance.

‘’And no other schools closer than that have a better program?’’ He  huffed in annoyance.

‘’No.’’ She shook her head, biting her lip to stop it from trembling. ‘’I’m sorry.’’ She stepped closer, wanting to kiss her first love one last time before promising herself she will never see him again. She will not curse her baby to live the south side life, she will protect that baby anyway she possibly can.

‘’Nothing to be sorry for.’’ FP said, his voice icy cold as he turned around and walked out of his trailer, leaving her alone.

‘’I’m sorry.’’ A single tear ran down her face as she looked down at her stomach.

*

‘’Hey gramps.’’ Y/N offered her grandpa a sad smile as he opened the door only to see his grand daughter standing on his porch with two suitcases in her hands.

‘’She really did it?’’ The oldman asked as he hugged her. ‘’Your mum really kicked you out?’’

‘’You know how she is. Dad offered for me to stay if i abort the baby, but it was already too late.’’ She explained once she let go of him.

‘’Come in, you’ll freeze.’’

‘’Thanks.’’ She went to pick up her suitcases but her grandpa beat her to it.

‘’No lifting heavy objects for you. You have to look after yourself, and the little guy.’’

‘’What’s making you think he’s a boy?’’ She asked as she entered the old house.

‘’A feeling.’’ He smiled. He was so happy when he received a letter from her, telling him she is pregnant.

‘’If you say so.’’ She laughed. She always loved her grandpa. The summers when she could come and visit him were the best she ever had. She knew he would take her in when her parents kicked her out.

*

The next six months were anything but easy. She started home schooling and finished her high school with the highest honours. She was determined to get her education. She never wanted to be one of the housewives that settle down and let their husband provide for them. Hell, she was becoming the complete opposite of that. She was a single mother raising a bastard baby. A sweet boy, who became more and more like his father as he grew up.

‘’Why do i have such a weird name, mama?’’ The boy of only 5 asked her.

‘’It belonged to one of the best men i knew. Why do you ask, Forsythe? ‘’ The girl told him, finally looking up from her work. She finished university and got her first job as a lawyer.

‘’Tell me about him.’’ He tugged on her skirt making her smile and lit him on her lap.

‘’I First met him when i was 16, almost 17. He was tall, and had black hair, just like you.’’ She ruffled the little boy’s black hair. ‘’He was in his early twenties at the time.’’ She looked out the window trying her best not to cry. She still missed him.  ‘’He was like a knight in a shining armor. There was this other guy who kept following me, and he wouldn’t leave me alone. So Forsythe Pendleton or FP, as everyone called him, came and saved me from that guy.’’

‘’So he’s a hero?’’ The boy’s eyes lighted up.

‘’Yes, Juggie, He was my hero.’’

‘’I wanna meet him.’’ The 5 year old said as he jumped from her lap and walked to his toys.

‘’Maybe one day.’’ Y/N, Said more to herself than to her son. ‘’One day.’’

*

A year has passed and the time for Jughead to start school came sooner than expected.

‘’For fucks sake!’’ Y/N cursed as she read the letter from the local school.

‘’What’s wrong?’’ Her grandpa asked, looking up from the newspaper he was reading.

‘’They say they don’t have any free spots in the first grade. They are the third school i tried to enroll Juggie in.’’ She let out a frustrated breath and threw the letter into the trash.

‘’Here, try this one. I have a good feeling about this one.’’ The old man offered her the last letter. Without looking she opened it and went straight to the paragraph that told her if they have any free spots or not.

‘’He’s in!’’ She almost screamed in excitement.

‘’See, I told you this one is going to be the one.’’

‘’Oh..’’ Her face fell as she realised it was the School in Riverdale. ‘’It’s my old school.’’

‘’That’s good. I think it would do both of you good to move back there.’’ He told her. He always tried to tell her that she shouldn’t keep Jughead a secret from his father.

‘’Looks like we don’t have much choice.’’ She smiled trying not to show her true emotions. She was scared of what her life will be like in Riverdale. But she’ll figure it out. Like she figured out this. She will figure it out, for her son.

‘’Juggie?’’ She called out.

‘’Yeah mommy?’’ Messy head of hair peeked around the corner.

‘’We’re moving, honey.’’

‘’Where?’’

‘’Mommy’s hometown.’’ She said, a strange bitter taste in her mouth as her words sank in. ‘’Riverdale.’’

‘’Sweet!’’ The boy smiled before running up to his room and gathering all of his toys.

Click here for part 2! 

-

Request here!

Masterlist here!

-

[echelonlab-blog]

Bound By Ink -- Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Fiction.

Warnings: None

Tagging: @hazeleyedleto @msroxyblog @letojokerownsme @miss-shannanigans@snewsome756   @maliciousalishious   @nikkitasevoli@meghan12151977@sanellv@ambolton@bradlea23@spillinginkwithlove@alexis7215@dezmarz@pezziecoyote@whoistheprettiest@avaj99@iridescxntsolitude@pheenixpeterson@guccilowell@blondiefrommars @rowen1976@phoebehalliwell1984@thathipstaninja @darthjokerisyourfather @letsbemybatman  @prettymisc @lylabell2013  @mandyglam @pandaliciouz  @just-me-obsessing @echelon-1969

NOTE: The tag list should be current now. Please let us know if we missed you.

   “Blue I don’t know if I like the idea of you and Jayce going out there alone at this time of night. Why don’t you take Curtis with you.” I heard Mark’s voice coming from his office. Curtis was a close friend of both Mark and me, who worked evenings. Being a tattoo artist, we didn’t usually make house calls, but I wasn’t passing up an opportunity, especially when the person specifically requested me. I had already looked up the address on my GPS and it wasn’t a bad neighborhood.

 I walked down the narrow hallway, singing along to Broken by Seether as it still played throughout the building long after we were closed. Leaning against the doorway to see Mark, my ex-husband, sitting in his chair, yawning, I sighed. He and I had a unique relationship and we did the co-parent thing well together. Our son Jayce was fifteen now and lived with me, most of the time. The divorce had been finalized three years ago, and we got along great... as friends. We also seemed to have no issues working together, we just sucked at being a couple. When he opened Reckless Ink, a year and a half ago, Mark fully immersed himself in the business and had been there from open to close daily. At forty, he already looked tired and worn out. Although Mark and I rarely fought, it was a goal of mine to one day open up my own business.

“Jayce and I both have our phones, we will be fine. I’ll call you when I get there.” Jayce always came to the shop after school and usually played either on his phone or was busy drawing something while sitting in the back. He had even come up with a few sweet designs that I had permanently displayed on my body. Unfortunately, with my usual choice of bright hair colors and numerous tats, some of the parents of Jayce’s friends chose to judge me before they got to know me. He had a best friend, Ryan, whose parents were cool, was around often, but when he wasn’t, Jayce was a loner.

Luckily, Jayce hadn’t been able to escape the artistic talent that was passed down and was firmly planted in his genes. “Still don’t like it!” I heard Mark call out as I opened the door to the small break room in the back of the building to look in on Jayce.

“Almost ready kiddo.”

He looked up from the amazing skull he had been drawing and nodded. “Yeah, okay.”

   I double checked my bag and pulled my jacket on. Fifteen minutes later, Jayce and I were being buzzed in through the security gate. I hadn’t called Mark yet, still a little nervous about bringing Jayce with me. There was a group of people standing outside, waiting for us. They led us into the house where Jayce immediately approached the cute guy with his hair in a messy bun, telling him what a huge fan he was. The guy thanked my son and then stepped closer, holding his hand out. “You must be Blue, I’m Jared. Thanks for coming out so late. I appreciate it.”

 I shook his hand and looked from Jayce’s smiling face to Jared’s. “No problem.”

 Jayce moved closer, the grin quickly spreading across his face. “Mom, do you know who this is? He’s the singer for Thirty Seconds To Mars!” I knew he looked familiar, but wasn’t sure where I had seen him before.

  Jared’s eyes grew big. “Wait, this is your son?” He glanced at Jayces’ smiling face and back to me. “You do not look old enough to have a teenage son.”

  “Thank you, but yes, he’s my son.” I placed my bag down on the table and pulled my jacket off. “Jayce call your dad and let him know we made it.”

Jared’s eyes quickly began to inspect the numerous tattoos on my arms as he spoke. “So, you did a piece for a friend of mine, Zack. I don’t know if you remember,” he started scrolling through his phone until he came to the photo of the tattoo I had done just a few months ago, “anyway, It’s flawless and I’ve been wanting to get in touch with you, just haven’t had time, until now.” He went around the room, introducing me to his buddies, stopping at the tall blonde guy. “This is Jesse, and he is interested in getting his very first tattoo tonight.”

 I knew Jared wanted a new tattoo, but he asked me to start with Jesse. He offered me a drink and was nice enough to keep Jayce entertained, giving him a tour of his house and engaging in conversation.

 When I finished up with Jesse, I had to use the bathroom and on my way back out, ran smack into someone. “I’m so sorry!” He grabbed my arms to steady me as I leaned back against the wall. “I’m Shannon, Jared’s brother.”

 My first reaction was to glare at him, but it quickly turned into blushing as our eyes met. He had the kind of face that could stop a woman in her tracks and he smelled amazing. The strong, arched brows and his eyes.... they were catastrophic. The beautiful amber color had slight swirls of green inside and was completely dazzling. God, he was handsome, mesmerizing even. “It’s okay. I’m Blue.”

  His smile as he slowly backed away had me focusing on his full, pink lips. “Blue, I like that. So, you’re the tattoo artist that my brother has been going on and on about. It’s nice to finally meet you Blue.” He rubbed his palms up and down his denim-clad legs and then let out a deep breath. “Well, again, sorry I almost knocked you down. I just have to grab something, excuse me.” I watched him until he disappeared up the stairs.

  I was busy working on Jared when his hot brother reappeared. He came a little closer, leaning in and checking out my work, the delicious scent of his cologne accompanied him. “Nice, maybe I’ll request you and get something new myself.”

 Glancing up, I smiled. “Sure, how many do you have?” I’m sure my face was bright red when he lifted his shirt, showing off his amazing body and explaining each one. He kept a conversation going with me until I finished up.

 Once I was finished and packed up, he even walked Jayce and myself out to the car. He was so nice, but I could see Jayce rolling his eyes and knew I’d get a lecture on the way home. He still hadn’t fully accepted the fact that Mark and I were done and I was free and clear to flirt with whomever I wanted.

   I had all but forgotten about my late night at the home of a celebrity by the weekend and was just finishing up a tongue piercing for a girl on her twenty-first birthday. Curtis met me in the hallway to tell me that someone was asking for me. Shoving my hands into my pockets, I wandered out to the front desk to see Shannon looking at some of the artwork on the walls. I silently wondered if I’d be as attracted to him as I was that night at his brother’s house. When he turned around and I was met with those beautiful, warm eyes, there was no doubt. He was even more handsome if that’s at all possible.

[liw-the-melancholic-apple]

How it may have gone - Humble Beginnings

A fic taking place in the marauders era. While the political climate seems to head to a conflict, James, Sirius, Remus and Peter are still just teenagers. Dealing with typical teenage problems.

But this year their little group grows. Who would have known that more prefects would be a good thing?

Masterlist

Eight: New Year New Me I

When I woke up the next morning I was absolutely disoriented. The room I found myself in was white and royal blue and completely foreign to me. I wore a red shirt I had never seen before that was at least three sizes too big and smelled of chocolate and coffee and there was a very annoying ticking noise that had woken me up. 

I sat up and the big bed with the absurdly fluffy and comfortable sheets and took in the room again. Right, I was at the Potters. As I curiously looked at the expensive white furniture and the blue satin on the chair, floor and curtains I found the source of the ticking. It was a cute little owl pecking its beak against the window. With a moan and a yawn I got out of bed and opened the window. 

“Morning”, I mumbled while untying the envelope from the owl’s leg. I couldn’t find any crackers or other snacks for the poor thing, so I massaged her neck while reading the note. It was from my mum. She, too had been woken up by the bird and wrote that that was for my sake. Had she found my bed empty before hearing the Potters had taken me in for the night all hell would have broken lose. She was happy I was alright, wondered why I hadn’t gone home with Crick – Crap! My sleepy mind had not yet thought back to that disaster that would probably haunt me through the first months of this new year and my heart instantly sunk to my stomach – and asked me to write her when I wanted to be picked up. Dad would get me. Straight forward enough. 

On the carefully carved nightstand I found an antique alarm clock that told me it was nearly half past eleven. I hoped I wasn’t the last to get up and downstairs to the kitchen. That would be embarrassing. I jumped into my jeans, decided to keep Remus’ t-shirt on for now as it was more comfortable and warmer than my own and snuck over to the bathroom. 

I brushed my teeth, washed my face and untangled my birdsnest of hair with a brush I found in one of the drawers. With only six hours of sleep I didn’t have the energy to put it into either a bun or even a ponytail and I just let it hang down to hips. 

Back in my room I called the owl to my arm and took it down with me. In the foyer that I already knew I heard noises that sounded like utensils on plates and I smelled coffee. It seemed I was the last one to get up and everybody already was having breakfast. Bothersome. I didn’t want to be the uninvited houseguest and the idiot to delay the start of the year. 

Nonetheless I followed the sounds down a corridor I hadn’t seen last night and found myself in front of a white door with four round milky windows through which I could make out at least two figures. I knocked before I entered. 

Turned out I wasn’t the last one to wake up. I was the first one. At least of the students in the house. Upon my knocking both figures had turned their heads to the door and welcomed me with confused and concerned looks.  

The owl flew over to the tall man with the mane of grey hair. Absentmindedly he fed her some crackers from a jar next to him. 

“Ehm… Good morning. And happy new year.”  

“Good morning”, the man, who I assumed to be Mr Potter said, still very stern looking. 

“Happy new year, dear”, the short woman with all the laugh-wrinkles said warmly and reassuringly prompting me to explain why I was in their house and had their owl with me. 

“I’m sorry for intruding. My name’s Jette de Witt, my parents live over in Marlowe’s Creek. I met your son and his friends last night at the Raven and … well, I was supposed to go home with a friend of mine but that didn’t quite worked out and so P… James was kind enough to offer me to floo home through your fire place but we couldn’t find any floo powder and then he insisted I stayed, which I did.” I breathed in. “I wrote my parents last night not to worry, that’s why she was with me”, I gestured at the owl. 

“To be honest I had hoped P… James had either left you a note or was already awake. I’m quite uncomfortable barging in here like this…” I bit my lip and looked to the floor. 

“Oh, dear, no need to feel flustered. Come, come. Sit down. Would you like a tea or some hot milk?” 

“Coffee would be wonderful, thank you Mrs Potter.” 

“Euphemia, please. And that’s Fleamont.” She smiled another of her ‘you-are-welcome-here-make-yourself-at-home’-smiles and her husband nodded his head with a grin that looked a lot like his son’s. 

“Jette”, I said again before I took a sip of the coffee Mrs Potter had put down in front of me. 

“Merlin, that’s good. Thank you.” 

“Did you say your last name was de Witt?”, Mr Potter asked over the edge of his Daily Prophet. The headline was another disappearance of a muggleborn ministry witch. 

“Yes, sir, I did.” 

“Fleamont”, Mr Potter corrected me with smile. 

“You’re friends with James, right? He talked about you. They all did.” 

“Oh, right”, Mrs Potter remembered, “You went to the Market together.” 

“Yes, we ran into each other there and spent the evening together.” 

“Then you must know that other girl they weren’t shutting up about, Fleamont, help me out!” 

“Melanie? No. Melina? Not either…” 

“Milla?”, I suggested. 

“That’s it. There’s been  lot of talk about her, since Remus and Peter arrived. So, you do know her?” 

“She’s one of my best friends. Remus has a bit of a weakness for her. And she for him.” 

“A bit? He is absolutely enchanted by her. Not that he would ever admit that”, Mrs Potter chirped rolling her eyes. “Teenagers!” 

I laughed and took another sip of my coffee. The kitchen was mainly white, just like the rest of the house and very cosy just like the rest of the house. I had sat down at a little bar next to the free standing stove, Mr Potter sat at around white table with white chairs that had red white patterned cushions on them. The entire kitchens was red and white and looked like a giant picnic basket. It was very homy. 

“Did you say your parents know where you are?”, Mrs Potter asked suddenly looking up from the stove on which she made pancakes together with a houseelf. 

“I did.” 

“I hope they won’t get you before breakfast.” 

“They asked me to tell them when to pick me up. I haven’t yet. And I don’t want to bother you anymore, Mrs Potter – “ 

“Euphemia!” 

“I don’t want to bother you anymore, Euphemia, I’ve already invited myself to stay the night and steal your coffee.” 

“Don’t be such a polite goodie-two-shoes”, James yawned from the door walking in in his pyjamas followed by Black. 

“I invited you to stay the night and she would force that coffee down your throat if you deny it. Morning mummy.” He kissed his mother on the cheek and did the same to his dad who frowned at the state of his son’s hair. To my surprise Black followed Potter hugging Mrs Potter first – “Euphemia, looking delicious as ever”- and then Mr Potter – “Morning Fleamont”, before plummeting down next to me and taking my coffee. 

“Sirius, where are your manners! Is that a busted lip!?!” Mrs Potter’s voice flew several octaves higher with that last question. 

“Firstly, she won’t mind me drinking her coffee. She’s nice. Secondly, this is not a busted lip, it is souvenir of my chivalry. So, please, don’t worry, Phemia.”  

“Chivalry?”, Mr Potter asked from where he sat with Potter. 

Black was just about to tell the story of how he and his friends rescued me from that disastrous midnight-kiss, when Remus and Pettigrew walked in, waving at everybody wishing us a universal good morning. 

Remus took the free stool next to me, while Pettigrew trotted over to the Potter men. Mrs Potter provided Remus and me with new coffee mugs, shooting a look at Black as she did so, and brought some milky earl-grey over to the other boys. 

“Lyndi and I were thinking pancakes and waffles to welcome the new year. Anybody against that?” 

“Mrs… Euphemia, really I could just write my parents to pick me up right away…” 

“Nonesense! You write your parents to come get you around”, she checked the clock on the wall “one o’clock or half past. Something like that. Gives us time to have a good breakfast and to chat a bit. I reckon you can fill me in on Milla a lot better than this lot”, she vaguely gestured at the boys. “They all seem to think I shouldn’t be interested in her. Which makes me very interested.” I laughed and got up to get the owl and the parchment Mr Potter held up. 

“That’s how long your hair is?!”, Pettigrew yelped when I walked past him. 

“Yeah.” 

“That is a lot of hair, de Witt.” 

“Thanks, Pettigrew.” 

I wrote back to my mum, telling her that whoever came to get me was cordially invited by the Potters for a cup of coffee and a snack. 

Before we could get to gossiping about Milla and Remus who was already blushing like a fwooper in his chair at the table, I disclosed that Dad would probably get me with the car and therefore didn’t need the info that the Potters had no floo powder in the house. A fact that got Mrs Potter all flustered. 

“The car? Your father knows how to drive?”, Mr Potter’s eyes widened. For a split second I thought he’d disapprove and tell me to get out of his house but then I saw the child-like expression on his face. 

“Do you think he would let me sit in it? Maybe open up the hood? Most muggle things don’t interest me but cars and airplanes are fascinating.”  

“I’m sure he wouldn’t mind. Doubt he would be able to explain a whole lot to you though, he doesn’t build the things he just drives them. But if you’re really interested I’m sure that Mr Scribe would love to give you the 101 on cars. He’s a mechanic and has his own garage.” Mr Potter’s eyes went blank. 

“Mr Scribe is Milla’s dad. He lives in Marlowe’s Creek, too. At the moment they’re all on holiday skiing but once they’re back you should pop in his shop.” 

“So, Milla’s dad is a muggle?”, Mrs Potter jumped at the chance to get some more intel on the girl that made Remus blush and to his dismay we talked about her during the entire breakfast. Over the 101st cup of coffee we got to Lily, who Potter loved to discuss and made me praise as if she were a goddess.  

I was still in Remus’ shirt when the doorbell rang and my dad was let into the kitchen by Lyndi the houseelf. I could see the confusion in the boys’ face as they looked at my father. He was a good bit taller than me, had dirty blond curly hair, blue eyes and a laissez-faire attitude in life that was always visible. I looked a lot more like my mum than him. 

“Morning Dad!”, I flew out of my chair and into his arms. “Happy new year.”  

“Morning? That’s rich. Hi, kiddo.”  

“Mrs Potter, this is my dad Willem de Witt.” 

“Euphemia.” 

“Wim.” 

“And that’s Mr Potter, Dad.” 

“Fleamont.” 

“Wim. Pleasure to meet you. And thanks for providing shelter for this one.” He messed up my hair with a stern look. 

“Why did you have to search refuge here and disturb the Potters’ morning instead of just going home with Crick, huh?” 

“I’d say that’s a story for another time, Sir. My name’s James. And de… Jette is not disturbing us in the slightest”, Potter saved me from answering and I was grateful to no extent. How I would explain what happened last night to my parents, was a mindboggling exercise that I was still too worn out for. . “My father wondered whether you would maybe let him see and sit in your car, if you’re here with it. He’s a bit of a fanatic. Oh, and these are Peter, Remus and Sirius.” Dad shook all their hands. 

“All yours”, he asked Mr Potter. But it was Mrs Potter who answered: “Only James.. and Sirius since the summer. You can’t imagine how often I’ve had to tell him to call this place home and not ‘your place’ since he’s moved in.” 

The moment she mentioned his name my head twitched at him. Since the summer? Home? Moved in? Black lived with the Potters? The first thing that came to mind was that one of his parents wasn’t well and they couldn’t take care of their children, but then I remembered that Regulus had bragged about how he would go to Malfoy Manor with his parents for Christmas to have a real pure blood feast. So, the Blacks were okay. 

Black looked back at me, eyes boring in mine, pure terror on his face. 

Regulus was the good son in the eyes of his parents. They thought like he did. Blood purity. Elite. Sirius Black was very outspoken about his views on those subjects. He thought they were rubbish. Ignorant and racist and that every being had the same worth. He was a Gryffindor that stood up for Gryffindor values in a house full of conservative Slytherins. 

“Not the first time I get hit by someone.” 

“Not the first time I get hit by someone.” 

“Not the first time I get hit by someone.” 

“Not the first time I get hit by someone.” 

I didn’t want to believe it but as soon as the idea formed in my head I knew that it was true. I remembered having seen Black with scratches and black eyes, and healing lips and noses before. Usually on the platform or in the first weeks after break. They abused him. They abused him for being a good person and it had gotten so bad that he had to flee from their house. I felt tears welling up in my eyes, quickly looked down at my mug and then at my dad. Black’s terrified eyes were in my peripheral.  

I don’t know how my face looked but it was bad enough to convey to Dad that we should not explore the configuration of the Potter household any further. Remus, Potter and Pettigrew didn’t seem to notice that both, Black and I were absolutely horrified. 

“Huh. So, you’re interested in cars, Fleamont? Obviously, I’m no Andrew Scribe but I could tell you what I know and if that’s not satisfying I could leave you Andy’s phone number… Assuming you have a phone.” 

“We do. Euphemia’s idea. Brilliant as ever. I would love to take a look at the vehicle.”  

“Let’s do it, then. You”, he turned to me, trying to look casual but unable to hide the concern in his eyes, “should probably return that shirt to its rightful owner and get dressed, so we can leave at some point and don’t overstay our welcome.” 

“Impossible!”, Potter beamed from the table but I was pretty sure as far as Black was concerned I had overstayed my welcome by roughly two minutes already. His face was now hard as stone and he didn’t look at me at all.  

I went upstairs and got dressed. Returning Remus’ shirt by hanging it on the doorknob. I pulled my hair in the typical bun and didn’t dare go back downstairs. Is still hadn’t fully processed what Mrs Potter had said. And what it implied. 

[snowbellewells]

Self-Promo Sunday: Do-Si-Dos and Tagalongs

(This is a little one-shot originally written for Halloween a few years back, prior to season 7 airing. I know that Halloween has passed, but only by a couple of days, and so I thought I would bring this little bit of mischief and fluff back. I suppose we might call this a sort of alternate s7 headcanon fic, looking at a bit of domesticity that might have happened had everyone stayed in Storybrooke post s6. Enjoy!!). I have attempted to use a “Read more” break - I hope it worked on mobile. If you prefer this fic can also be found on AO3 and ff.net in my “Of Swans and Swords and Hopeful Hearts” collection.

Summary : Emma stumbles into a bit of a household mystery, leading right back to her pirate husband and a very sweet reward for everyone.

“Do-Si-Dos & Tagalongs” By: @snowbellewells

It all began with little Robyn, as it often did, and her wisps of untamed auburn hair framing her face, with that mischievous, gap-toothed six-year-old child’s grin and twinkle in her bright, beguiling eyes – both features that never failed to remind those who had known him of her late father and the bit of roguish bandit his smile never quite lost, even after settling in modern day Storybrooke. She had come to the two-story house Emma, Killian, and Henry had called home for some five years, with a platter full of cookies and tarts, nearly three months past, beaming and incredibly proud of herself as she presented the whole thing to the Savior, her pirate husband, and their Author son, whom she merely called “Auntie Emma”, “Uncle Killy”, and “Cousin Henry”, as a ‘thank you’ to the three of them for helping her to corral and coax her erstwhile little black cat Mac back home when he’d gotten out of the house and made a beeline for trouble, just as his young mistress often did. Regina and Zelena both trailed after her, doing their best to look bored and unconcerned with the proceedings, hands in pockets of tailored coats and matching sisterly arched brows challenging anyone to assume otherwise.

It was Regina who had shrugged sardonically when Killian exclaimed over the deliciousness of the crisp, chocolate Thin Mints, “No need to get so excited, Pirate. We just over-ordered from the Girl Scouts.”

There had been a whole, long explanation required of Emma from her inquisitive Captain once the Mills sisters and their pint size charge had gone. ‘What were Girl Scouts? Why did they sell cookies? How does one procure such delicacies? Which flavors were the best?’ and so on. For the moment, however, Emma had not been able to do more than giggle to herself at her dumbstruck husband smiling affectionately at the little girl and her gift, crow’s feet crinkling adorably beside his eyes – not to mention Robyn beaming back at him. She had sneakily managed to snap a couple pictures of the whole thing with her iPhone before Killian realized, and though Henry had seen what she was up to and smirked knowingly, he had refrained from giving her away.

Emma hadn’t thought much more about the little episode since. As was always true of Girl Scout cookies (and homemade Enchanted Forest-style apple and cherry tarts too, she was quickly learning) the plate of goodies hadn’t lasted long. Henry, fully a teenager and having recently taken up track at Violet, Grace, and Nicholas and Ava’s urging, (‘His own little crew!’, the perpetual loner Emma had been all through her own school years kept crowing happily inside) ate enough for the three of them combined, Killian had the most ridiculous sweet tooth she had ever seen, and she was rapidly discovering her own weakness for warmed up baked goods of all kinds on a chilly Fall evening. Never in her life had Emma been so settled and comfortable in one place for so long, and she couldn’t deny that she was savoring it. So when her favorites, the Do-Si-Dos, Henry’s preferred Samoas, and Killian’s Thin Mints all vanished by the end of that week, she was disappointed to find their surprise treats gone, but not at all shocked. Nothing seemed strange in fact, until she went to dig through her purse where she always kept five or ten bucks worth of dollar bills tucked away for impulsive buys, and instead found nothing but empty space.

The first time, she merely shook her head at herself; confused, but figuring that she must have snagged something at the gas station counter the last time she filled the Bug and then forgotten to replenish her stash. But it kept happening – a second, third, fourth, and even fifth, time. The radar which used to serve her well as a bail bondsperson tracking down skips in Boston had been set off and her suspicious nature engaged. A strange little mystery had presented itself in her house by the sea – and Emma Swan was determined to get to the bottom of it.

[[MORE]]

Henry was her first suspect, as she thought he might have just figured he was getting a quick advance on his allowance to take his friends for Cokes and cheese fries at Granny’s after practice or something like that. Yet, after watching her son for just a couple of days – and his allowance payout coming and going without him offering to pay her back – Emma ruled him out as the culprit. That only left her sneakily playful pirate husband, and honestly she should have known it was him without even having to test her findings.

Emma wasn’t sure how Killian was managing to swipe his loot right out from under her nose without her being able to catch him at it, and she was even more puzzled by what he could possibly be buying so often that she never saw a trace of, but then, she had never doubted how slick he was, and he’d had centuries to perfect his skills.

The whole little intrigue carried on for nearly another month before Emma finally got the lucky break that spoiled Killian’s secret. She came home early from the station one afternoon; her dad having arrived a couple hours ahead of his own shift to give her a break, and as she turned the corner onto their street – though theirs was really the only house on it as the land began to roll down toward the harbor – she saw Killian closing the door behind him as he disappeared back inside, while Robyn with one of her little Girl Scout buddies in tow hopped down the front steps and out through the white picket fence onto the sidewalk, the two of them giggling together conspiratorially as they did.

Pulling up beside them, Emma parked her car at the curb quickly and hopped out to catch them before they could get far. She met the girls at the sidewalk, and for a moment wasn’t sure whether to crouch down at their level playfully, or to cross her arms and give them her ‘Mom’ look to get the answers she suddenly sensed she had found at last. She went with arms crossed authoritatively over her chest, eyebrow cocked expectantly, not wanting to consider the fact that she must look like some sort of blonde cross between her own schoolteacher-princess mother and Robyn’s Aunt Regina when she meant business. All she said was, “What brings you two here?” with a hint of a jest in her words, even though her stance clearly expected an answer.

Robyn had the decency to flush and look a bit nervous, her eyes falling to study the squeaky-clean saddle shoes she always wore with her Girl Scout uniform, before snapping her eyes back up to the Savior’s with a smile that would have done both her snarky mother and her charming outlaw father proud. ‘Oh yeah,’ Emma thought, she was definitely seeing a bit of Zelena’s formerly conniving streak now. “Nothing really,” the girl tried brightly. “Laney had just never met Captain Hook before, and so I told her it was no big deal, we were tight, and brought her over.”

The other little girl said nothing to confirm or deny Robyn’s claim, though her awkward shifting from side-to-side easily spoke for itself. Not that Emma would have mistaken her for the ringleader of whatever shenanigan was playing out here anyway; that had her unofficial niece’s fingerprints all over it. “That’s all, huh?” Emma questioned, making her tone clearly convey her doubt.

Zelena’s little troublemaker she might be, but Robyn had a penchant for stepping into mischief that was all her own and everyone knew it. When Emma didn’t budge, it only took a few more awkward seconds of stare down on the sidewalk before the little schemer cracked. When she spoke again, it was with the sincere tone of Robin Hood, legend of Sherwood Forest, which she confessed. “Oh alright, fine! You caught us! But it was just too easy not to try!”

“Wait…what was too easy?” Emma questioned, momentarily more confused than she had been, tapping her foot on the concrete and giving the youngster an even more searching look. “What are you talking about?!?” she pressed in near exasperation.

It was at this juncture that Robyn’s little pal lost her nerve and deserted the cause, clearly not having signed on to face questioning by the Sheriff-Savior. She blurted out an excuse about her mom waiting for her, blushing and stammering as she did, and then turned tail and ran.

“Fraidy cat,” Robyn muttered in disgust, the curled lip and glower she adopted as she crossed her own little arms in annoyance reminding Emma so strongly of the now reformed Wicked Witch in her heyday that for a moment she almost burst out laughing at the expression on such a tiny face, completely ruining the serious stance she was trying to hold.

“Okay, Robyn,” Emma sighed, once it was just the two of them. With a guiding hand on the little girl’s shoulder, she walked them back toward the front porch, taking a seat on the steps with her. “Let’s have it – the truth this time. Whatever you’ve been up to, it can’t be that terrible. I’m not really mad, just ready to get to the bottom of this little mystery.”

Robyn heaved a large sigh, dramatically aggrieved as only a little girl could be, and then finally started talking. “I just wanted our troop to sell the most cookies – and your husband’s such an easy target. You know that, right? I mean, I figured it out weeks ago when we brought you guys those ‘Thank You’ treats – Mom, Aunt Regina, and I… remember?”

Emma nodded, thinking back over evening meals since then, when Killian hadn’t eaten much and she had questioned if he felt alright, only to have him say he wasn’t very hungry; occasions where she had offered to make cookies and he had evasively insisted she needn’t trouble herself on his account, and again to the odd disappearance of her random bits of spending money. She was putting the pieces together even before Robyn finished coming clean.

“Your pirate just can’t resist us,” the kid shrugged, looking only a little bit sheepish now that she was caught, but not really sorry. “I don’t know if it’s the outfits, or little girls with big pleading eyes needing help, or if he just really likes our cookies, but every time I bring a new member of the troop by with boxes to sell, no matter how often we show up, he buys some more. It’s like he can’t help himself. And hey, who am I to complain?”

Emma snorted indelicately, struck by Robyn’s cunning and ingenuity, along with the sheer ridiculousness of the entire situation. Shaking her head in both disbelief and begrudging affection that wouldn’t have him any other way, Emma wondered mildly for a few seconds how she hadn’t known this was the case from the start. ‘Fearsome pirate of the seas,’ she mocked in her head, ‘bested by a bunch of cute six-year-olds with baked goods.’

Knowing that she shouldn’t simply let Robyn off with being so opportunistic and sneaky, yet not really sure what to do about it either, Emma merely gave the little girl a wry smile and light one-armed squeeze to her side with a gentle remonstrance. “Well, it’s not like you’ve really done much harm – except to my pocketbook.” She did frown just a bit there, and Robyn looked genuinely contrite. “But no more, okay? I don’t know where my pirate has been stashing his loot, but he has to be almost out of room. We’ve made our contribution to the Girl Scouts for the year. Got it?”

Robyn nodded dutifully, and though there was no judging the mischief that her hurricane “niece” could get into, Emma sensed that she understood the game was up.

Ruffling Robyn’s hair, Emma felt a momentary pang in her chest, picturing Henry at that age and wondering what he had been like and if he had been as playfully ornery as well. Having her son with her now, the relationship they had forged, and the family they’d become was incredible – so much more than she had ever thought she would have – but things happened occasionally, striking her at the oddest times and there would be a melancholy moment or two of wishing she could take a portal back in time to re-live what she had lost with her son, who would be grown up and ready to leave them all too soon.

As if sensing her change in mood, Robyn reached out her little hand to lay it on Emma’s arm. “Aunt Emma?” she asked softly, her voice as hesitant and concerned as it ever got. “Are you alright? Your eyes got kinda funny and far away.”

Shaking the bittersweet reflections from her mind, Emma gave Robyn another gentle smile. “Yep, Trouble, I’m fine. Just got sidetracked for a minute.” She stood and pulled Robyn up playfully beside her. “Now, you’d better go home before it starts getting dark. We’re good, okay? Don’t worry. I am gonna have to call your Mom and talk to her about this, but I imagine if you don’t pull any more get-rich-quick schemes, we’ll all just put this behind us.”

“Okay, Aunt Emma,” Robyn agreed, bouncing back to her usual chipper self and past the anxious moment with a child’s usual resilience. She gave her honorary auntie a hug around the waist, which Emma gladly returned, and then set off toward Zelena’s little house a block over.

“Go straight home and get there safe!” Emma called after her in parting, to which she saw Robyn nod smartly and wave back over her shoulder. Emma watched her until the little girl rounded the corner at the end of the street and out of sight.

Turning, Emma opened their heavy oak front door and slipped into their home soundlessly, hoping if her luck held, that she just might catch Killian unawares with his prize. What she got as she stood in the entryway, flabbergasted and mouth hanging open, was not quite what she had expected at all. Standing almost directly across from her, frozen before the door into the cellar that until now they had both skirted around and almost never opened – demons purged, but still not eager to loose painful memories – looking both startled at patently guilty, was her husband. Caught red handed, Emma’s inner voice supplied smugly.

“Why, hello there, Love,” Killian finally greeted, trying for suave and “turning on the smolder” as Emma had often teased him in calling it since showing her pirate Tangled and delighting in his resounding approval of Flynn Rider. He would have succeeded too, if she hadn’t known him as well as she did. “You’re home early.”

“Yep,” she stated simply, popping the ‘p’ sound as he often did in his own speech and immediately causing a change in his demeanor, alerted that she was onto his subterfuge. Emma pushed away from the door and stalked toward him slowly, the heels of her boots on hardwood the only sound in the quiet foyer as her gaze pinned him in place – turning all of his usual methods back on him and loving it.

“Would you like to tell me what you’ve been up to?” she queried, her voice practically a purr as she reached out a finger to run lightly through the chest hair peeking out of his overly undone shirt collar and batting her lashes seductively at him, as if she really were some blushing damsel in his original realm.

“Why – uh – whatever do you mean, Swan?” he tried, an equally over-the-top stab at guileless innocence on his face and in those stunning blue eyes, even as she also saw him swallow hard and scratch nervously behind his ear, the one tic he couldn’t seem to rid himself of, no matter how much a dead giveaway it was.

“I mean,” Emma murmured silkily, eyes narrowing as she leaned in even closer to him, nose almost brushing against his and her breath hot along his collarbone as she practically licked her lips while studying her quarry. Granted, her own pulse had skyrocketed at his close proximity, but she was more pleased to revel in the way her husband squirmed nervously under her hungry gaze. “You’ve been discovered, Pirate. Your supplier ratted you out.”

At that, Killian huffed out a low breath, eyes falling as he gave a slight chuckle and shook his head, having known his wife would eventually get to the bottom of what he had been doing, and almost relieved to have the secret out in the open. He truly had not meant to gather such and collection of the things anyway, but he simply could not bring himself to say no to the adorable miniature females in their sharp skirt and vest ensembles, and by this point, he was pretty sure they knew it and kept arriving at his doorstep on purpose. At any rate, Emma might have his head at the amount of money he had pilfered from her and spent needlessly, but surely they would enjoy the spoils, if nothing else. At length, with a short dip of his head in a resigned nod, Killian answered, “Aye, I figured she might at some point.”

Emma couldn’t help cracking the tiniest smile, the whole thing so silly, so domestic, so normal, and nothing like the trials they had faced ever since meeting one another and the secrets they once held back for fear of losing the other they had fought so hard to find. She shook her head, leaning in to rest her forehead against his, simply enjoying the warm comfort of his skin on hers and the soft texture of his hair where her fingers had delved in at his nape. “You’re hopeless, Babe… You know that, don’t you?”

“As you say, Wife,” he agreed good naturedly, his voice low and mumbled against the shell of her ear, making her tremble helplessly to the point of being weak-kneed, the stern composure she’d been trying to hold long gone.

“Well, let’s see this stash of booty you’ve stored up,” she prodded, curious now just how many boxes of Girl Scout cookies he had managed to amass, and anxious to tease him just a little bit more about how he had been so taken in.

Sighing with mostly pretended reluctance, Killian took her hand and led her back down the cellar steps behind him, into the once dark room she had not ventured to for some time. Once there, to her amused shock and surprise, right up against the bars where she had once, while possessed by the Darkness, bound Gold as a prisoner, were stacked boxes and boxes of every type cookie the Scouts sold, nearly reaching up to the ceiling. There was nothing else to do but burst into a fit of helpless giggles, and when she did, leaning into her husband’s side to stay upright, Emma felt his shoulders shaking as he joined in.

Never again would she look at this space and see nothing but lonely dark and a depth of despair and hate. Unintentional though it might have been, Killian had placed a whole new memory front and center.

They ended up bagging the cookies in half dozens and giving them out to very happy trick-or-treaters the next week on Halloween night.

And if they enjoyed feeding the remnants of the last couple boxes to each other in bed… well, that was their own delicious secret no one else need know.

Tagging: @whimsicallyenchantedrose @searchingwardrobes @kmomof4 @jennjenn615 @let-it-raines @resident-of-storybrooke @winterbaby89 @laschatzi @linda8084 @thislassishooked @therooksshiningknight @thisonesatellite

[snowbellewells]

“Do-Si-Dos and Tagalongs”

~ Okay folks, here is my first attempt at participating in the CS Halloweek event; I hope to do some of the other prompts over the course of the next week, but we’ll see how the time goes.  This one – in honor of the first day’s Mysteries (Cozy, Noir, Thriller) theme – is just a playful, fluffy little caper where Emma catches the thief who has been pilfering her spare cash and discovers what the culprit has been doing with it as well.  Sorry it was not posted on Day 1, but I didn’t want it to go completely unpublished, so better late than never, I guess!  It allowed me the chance to finally do something with a prompt/headcanon I saw on Tumblr AGES ago, and I hope its originator (I believe it was @ripplestitchskein, to give credit where it’s due) will not be upset that I tried my own little version of it.  Mostly just for fun, but I hope someone finds it cute and enjoys it.  The “mystery” may be a bit of a stretch, but here goes…

 “Do-Si-Dos & Tagalongs”

By: snowbellewells (or TutorGirlml on ff.net)

           It all began with little Robyn, as it often does, and her wisps of untamed auburn hair framing her face, with that mischievous, gap-toothed six-year-old child’s grin and twinkle in her bright, beguiling eyes – both features that never failed to remind those who had known him of her late father and the bit of roguish bandit his smile never quite lost, even after settling in modern day Storybrooke.  She had come to the two-story house Emma, Killian, and Henry had called home for some five years, with a platter full of cookies and tarts, nearly three months past, beaming and incredibly proud of herself as she presented the whole thing to the Savior, her pirate husband, and their Author son, whom she merely called “Auntie Emma”, “Uncle Killy”, and “Cousin Henry”, as a ‘thank you’ to the three of them for helping her to corral and coax her erstwhile little black cat Mac back home when he’d gotten out of the house and made a beeline for trouble, just as his young mistress often did. Regina and Zelena both trailed after her, doing their best to look bored and unconcerned with the proceedings, hands in pockets of tailored coats and matching sisterly arched brows challenging anyone to assume otherwise.

           It was Regina who had shrugged sardonically when Killian exclaimed over the deliciousness of the crisp, chocolate Thin Mints, “No need to get so excited, Pirate! We just over-ordered from the Girl Scouts.”

           There had been a whole, long explanation required of Emma from her inquisitive Captain once the Mills sisters and their pint size charge had gone. ‘What were Girl Scouts?  Why did they sell cookies? How does one procure such delicacies?  Which flavors were the best?’ and so on.  For the moment, however, Emma had not been able to do more than giggle to herself at her dumbstruck husband smiling affectionately at the little girl and her gift, crow’s feet crinkling adorably beside his eyes – not to mention Robyn beaming back at him.  She had sneakily managed to snap a couple pictures of the whole thing with her iPhone before Killian realized, and though Henry had seen what she was up to and smirked knowingly, he had refrained from giving her away.

           Emma hadn’t thought much more about the little episode since.  As was always true of Girl Scout cookies (and homemade Enchanted Forest-style apple and cherry tarts too, she was quickly learning) the plate of goodies hadn’t lasted long.  Henry, fully a teenager and having recently taken up track at Violet, Grace, and Nicholas and Ava’s urging, (‘His own little crew!’, the perpetual loner Emma had been all through her own school years kept crowing happily inside) ate enough for the three of them combined, Killian had the most ridiculous sweet tooth she had ever seen, and she was rapidly discovering her own weakness for warmed up baked goods of all kinds on a chilly Fall evening.  Never in her life had Emma been so settled and comfortable in one place for so long, and she couldn’t deny that she was savoring it.  So when her favorites, the Do-Si-Dos, Henry’s preferred Samoas, and Killian’s Thin Mints all vanished by the end of that week, she was disappointed to find their surprise treats gone, but not at all shocked. Nothing seemed strange in fact, until she went to dig through her purse where she always kept five or ten bucks worth of dollar bills tucked away for impulsive buys, and instead found nothing but empty space.

           The first time, she merely shook her head at herself; confused, but figuring that she must have snagged something at the gas station counter the last time she filled the Bug and then forgotten to replenish her stash.  But it kept happening – a second, third, fourth, and even fifth, time.  The radar which used to serve her well as a bail bondsperson tracking down skips in Boston had been set off and her suspicious nature engaged.  A strange little mystery had presented itself in her house by the sea – and Emma Swan was determined to get to the bottom of it.

           Henry was her first suspect, as she thought he might have just figured he was getting a quick advance on his allowance to take his friends for Cokes and cheese fries at Granny’s after practice or something like that. Yet, after watching her son for just a couple of days – and his allowance payout coming and going without him offering to pay her back – Emma ruled him out as the culprit. That only left her sneakily playful pirate husband, and honestly she should have known it was him without even having to test her findings.

           Emma wasn’t sure how Killian was managing to swipe his loot right out from under her nose without her being able to catch him at it, and she was even more puzzled by what he could possibly be buying so often that she never saw a trace of, but then, she had never doubted how slick he was, and he’d had centuries to perfect his skills.  

           The whole little intrigue has been going on almost another month before Emma finally got the lucky break that spoiled Killian’s secret.  She came home early from the station one afternoon; her dad having arrived a couple hours ahead of his own shift to give her a break, and as she turned the corner onto their street – though theirs was really the only house on it as the land began to roll down toward the harbor – she saw Killian closing the door behind him as he disappeared back inside, while Robyn with one of her little Girl Scout buddies in tow hopped down the front steps and out through the white picket fence onto the sidewalk, the two of them giggling together conspiratorially as they did.

           Pulling up beside them, Emma parked her car at the curb quickly and hopped out to catch them before they could get far.  She met the girls at the sidewalk, and for a moment wasn’t sure whether to crouch down at their level playfully, or to cross her arms and give them her ‘Mom’ look to get the answers she suddenly sensed she had found at last. She went with arms crossed authoritatively over her chest, eyebrow cocked expectantly, not wanting to consider the fact that she must look like some sort of blonde cross between her own schoolteacher-princess mother and Robyn’s Aunt Regina when she meant business.  All she said was, “What brings you two here?” with a hint of a jest in her words, even though her stance clearly expected an answer.

           Robyn had the decency to flush and look a bit nervous, her eyes falling to study the squeaky-clean saddle shoes she always wore with her Girl Scout uniform, before snapping her eyes back up to the Savior’s with a smile that would have done both her snarky mother and her charming outlaw father proud.  ‘Oh yeah,’ Emma thought, she was definitely seeing a bit of Zelena’s formerly conniving streak now.  “Nothing really,” the girl tried brightly.  “Laney had just never met Captain Hook before, and so I told her it was no big deal, we were tight, and brought her over.”

           The other little girl said nothing to confirm or deny Robyn’s claim, though her awkward shifting from side-to-side easily spoke for itself.  Not that Emma would have mistaken her for the ringleader of whatever shenanigan was playing out here anyway; that had her unofficial niece’s fingerprints all over it.  “That’s all, huh?” Emma questioned, making her tone clearly convey her doubt.

           Zelena’s little troublemaker she might be, but Robyn had a penchant for stepping into mischief that was all her own and everyone knew it.  When Emma didn’t budge, it only took a few more awkward seconds of stare down on the sidewalk before the little schemer cracked. When she spoke again, it was with the sincere tone of Robin Hood, legend of Sherwood Forest, which she confessed. “Oh alright, fine!  You caught us! But it was just too easy not to try!”

           “Wait…what was too easy?” Emma questioned, momentarily more confused than she had been, tapping her foot on the concrete and giving the youngster an even more searching look.  “What are you talking about?!?” she pressed in near exasperation.  

           It was at this juncture that Robyn’s little pal lost her nerve and deserted the cause, clearly not having signed on to face questioning by the Sheriff-Savior. She blurted out an excuse about her mom waiting for her, blushing and stammering as she did, and then turned tail and ran.

           “Fraidy cat,” Robyn muttered in disgust, the curled lip and glower she adopted as she crossed her own little arms in annoyance reminding Emma so strongly of the now reformed Wicked Witch in her heyday that for a moment she almost burst out laughing at the expression on such a tiny face, completely ruining the serious stance she was trying to hold.

           “Okay, Robyn,” Emma sighed, once it was just the two of them.  With a guiding hand on the little girl’s shoulder, she walked them back toward the front porch, taking a seat on the steps with her. “Let’s have it – the truth this time.  Whatever you’ve been up to, it can’t be that terrible.  I’m not really mad, just ready to get to the bottom of this little mystery.”

           Robyn heaved a large sigh, dramatically aggrieved as only a little girl could be, and then finally started talking.  “I just wanted our troop to sell the most cookies – and your husband’s such an easy target.  You know that, right? I mean, I figured it out weeks ago when we brought you guys those ‘Thank You’ treats – Mom, Aunt Regina, and I… remember?”

           Emma nodded, thinking back over evening meals since then, when Killian hadn’t eaten much and she had questioned if he felt alright, only to have him say he wasn’t very hungry; occasions where she had offered to make cookies and he had evasively insisted she needn’t trouble herself on his account, and again to the odd disappearance of her random bits of spending money.  She was putting the pieces together even before Robyn finished coming clean.

           “Your pirate just can’t resist us,” the kid shrugged, looking only a little bit sheepish now that she was caught, but not really sorry.  “I don’t know if it’s the outfits, or little girls with big pleading eyes needing help, or if he just really likes our cookies, but every time I bring a new member of the troop by with boxes to sell, no matter how often we show up, he buys some more.  It’s like he can’t help himself.  And hey, who am I to complain?”

           Emma snorted indelicately, struck by Robyn’s cunning and ingenuity, along with the sheer ridiculousness of the entire situation.  Shaking her head in both disbelief and begrudging affection that wouldn’t have him any other way, Emma wondered mildly for a few seconds how she hadn’t known this was the case from the start.  ‘Fearsome pirate of the seas,’ she mocked in her head, ‘bested by a bunch of cute six-year-olds with baked goods.’  

           Knowing that she shouldn’t simply let Robyn off with being so opportunistic and sneaky, yet not really sure what to do about it either, Emma merely gave the little girl a wry smile and light one-armed squeeze to her side with a gentle remonstrance.  “Well, it’s not like you’ve really done much harm – except to my pocketbook.”  She did frown just a bit there, and Robyn looked genuinely contrite.  “But no more, okay?  I don’t know where my pirate has been stashing his loot, but he has to be almost out of room.  We’ve made our contribution to the Girl Scouts for the year.  Got it?”

           Robyn nodded dutifully, and though there was no judging the mischief that her hurricane “niece” could get into, Emma sensed that she understood the game was up.  

           Ruffling Robyn’s hair, Emma felt a momentary pang in her chest, picturing Henry at that age and wondering what he had been like and if he had been as playfully ornery as well.  Having her son with her now, the relationship they had forged, and the family they have become is incredible – so much more than she had ever thought she would have – but things happened occasionally, striking her at the oddest times and there would be a melancholy moment or two of wishing she could take a portal back in time to re-live what she had lost with her son, who would be grown up and ready to leave them all too soon.

           As if sensing her change in mood, Robyn reached out her little hand to lay it on Emma’s arm.  “Aunt Emma?” she asked softly, her voice as hesitant and concerned as it ever got. “Are you alright?  Your eyes got kinda funny and far away.”

           Shaking the bittersweet reflections from her mind, Emma gave Robyn another gentle smile.  “Yep, Trouble, I’m fine.  Just got sidetracked for a minute.”  She stood and pulled Robyn up playfully beside her.  “Now, you’d better go home before it starts getting dark.  We’re good, okay?  Don’t worry.  I am gonna have to call your Mom and talk to her about this, but I imagine if you don’t pull any more get-rich-quick schemes, we’ll all just put this behind us.”

           “Okay, Aunt Emma,” Robyn agreed, bouncing back to her usual chipper self and past the anxious moment with a child’s usual resilience.  She gave her honorary auntie a hug around the waist, which Emma gladly returned, and then set off toward Zelena’s little house a block over.  

           “Go straight home and get there safe!” Emma called after her in parting, to which she saw Robyn nod smartly and wave back over her shoulder.  Emma watched her until the little girl rounded the corner at the end of the street and out of sight.

           Turning, Emma opened their heavy oak front door and slipped into their home soundlessly, hoping if her luck held, that she just might catch Killian unawares with his prize.  What she got as she stood in the entryway, flabbergasted and mouth hanging open, was not quite what she had expected at all.  Standing almost directly across from her, frozen before the door into the cellar that until now they had both skirted around and almost never opened – demons purged, but still not eager to loose painful memories – looking both startled at patently guilty, was her husband.  Caught red handed, Emma’s inner voice supplied smugly.

           “Why, hello there, Love,” Killian finally greeted, trying for suave and “turning on the smolder” as Emma has often teased him in calling it since showing her pirate Tangled and delighting in his resounding approval of Flynn Rider.  He would have succeeded too, if she hadn’t known him as well as she did. “You’re home early.”

           “Yep,” she stated simply, popping the ‘p’ sound as he often did in his own speech and immediately causing a change in his demeanor, alerted that she was onto his subterfuge.  Emma pushed away from the door and stalked toward him slowly, the heels of her boots on hardwood the only sound in the quiet foyer as her gaze pinned him in place – turning all of his usual methods back on him and loving it.

           “Would you like to tell me what you’ve been up to?” she queries, her voice practically a purr as she reached out a finger to run lightly through the chest hair peeking out of his overly undone shirt collar and batting her lashes seductively at him, as if she really were some blushing damsel in his original realm.

           “Why – uh – whatever do you mean, Swan?” he tried, an equally over-the-top stab at guileless innocence on his face and in those stunning blue eyes, even as she also saw him swallow hard and scratch nervously behind his ear, the one tic he couldn’t seem to rid himself of, no matter how much a dead giveaway it was.

           “I mean,” Emma murmured silkily, eyes narrowing as she leaned in even closer to him, nose almost brushing against his and her breath hot along his collarbone as she practically licked her lips while studying her quarry. Granted, her own pulse had skyrocketed at his close proximity, but she was more pleased to revel in the way her husband squirmed nervously under her hungry gaze.  “You’ve been discovered, Pirate.  Your supplier ratted you out.”

           At that, Killian huffed out a low breath, eyes falling as he gave a slight chuckle and shook his head, having known his wife would eventually get to the bottom of what he had been doing, and almost relieved to have the secret out in the open.  He truly had not meant to gather such and collection of the things anyway, but he simply could not bring himself to say no to the adorable miniature females in their sharp skirt and vest ensembles, and by this point, he was pretty sure they knew it and kept arriving at his doorstep on purpose.  At any rate, Emma might have his head at the amount of money he had pilfered from her and spent needlessly, but surely they would enjoy the spoils, if nothing else.  At length, with a short dip of his head in a resigned nod, Killian answered, “Aye, I figured she might at some point.”

           Emma couldn’t help cracking the tiniest smile, the whole thing so silly, so domestic, so normal, and nothing like the trials they had faced ever since meeting one another and the secrets they once held back for fear of losing the other they had fought so hard to find. She shook her head, leaning in to rest her forehead against his, simply enjoying the warm comfort of his skin on hers and the soft texture of his hair where her fingers had delved in at his nape. “You’re hopeless, Babe… You know that, don’t you?”

           “As you say, Wife,” he agreed good naturedly, his voice low and mumbled against the shell of her ear, making her tremble helplessly to the point of being weak-kneed, the stern composure she’d been trying to hold long gone.

           “Well, let’s see this stash of booty you’ve stored up,” she prodded, curious now just how many boxes of Girl Scout cookies he had managed to amass, and anxious to tease him just a little bit more about how he had been so taken in.

           Sighing with mostly pretended reluctance, Killian took her hand and led her back down the cellar steps behind him, into the once dark room she had not ventured to for some time.  Once there, to her amused shock and surprise, right up against the bars she had once, while possessed by the Darkness, bound Gold as a prisoner, were stacked boxes and boxes of every type cookie the Scouts sold, nearly reaching up to the ceiling. Honestly, there was not much else to do but burst into a fit of helpless giggles, and when she did, leaning into her husband’s side to stay upright, Emma felt his shoulders shaking as he joined in.

           Never again would she had to look at this space and see nothing but lonely dark and a depth of despair and hate.  Unintentional though it might have been, Killian had placed and whole new memory front and center.

           They ended up bagging the cookie in half dozens and giving them out to very happy trick-or-treaters the next week on Halloween night.

           And if they enjoy feeding the remnants of the last couple of boxes to each other in bed… well, that’s their own delicious secret no one else need know.

@lenfaz @nothingimpossibleonlyimprobable @kmomof4 @bromfieldhall @drowned-dreamer @flslp87 @spartanguard