#CSSNS 2018

[cssns]

We are now well into September and the last CSSNS has come to a close!!

I really don't have words to express how much I appreciate all the participation, all the enthusiasm, and all the love and support the event has received over the years from a fandom that is the ABSOLUTE BEST on the PLANET!!! Thank you all so very VERY much!!! Since this is the last year for the CSSNS, I've decided to reblog all the Event Roundup posts from the previous years - twice a week, starting tomorrow - until I post a 2024 Event Roundup on the 29th. So keep an eye out starting tomorrow, and take a journey with me all the way back to May of 2018 as we remember ALL the fics and ALL the art we've been blessed with over the years!!!

Until then, y'all!!!

[snowbellewells]

Self Promo Sunday: @cssns19 MC "Face to Face in the Broad Daylight"

(This week in reruns celebrating previous @cssns works, we have a sequel to my werewolf, alternate season two and beyond fic from 2018’s @cssns offering. This one partially exists just because I wanted to revisit these couples and enjoy a bit more of their fluffy happily ever afters. However, they also get into some new surprises and challenges, and: is Rumplestiltskin still under control, or is he back to his usual scheming and plotting? If you weren't around back then, I hope you will give this a try and enjoy.  If you read it back then and choose to revisit it, I hope you'll enjoy the walk down memory lane!! Either way, I'd love to hear what you think!

Complete in 9 Parts

(Thanks once again to @branlovestowrite for the stunningly lovely cover art she did for this story as well. I still absolutely love it!!)

Also available on AO3 if that's your preference...

Summary: After finding one another and triumphing against the machinations of the Evil Queen and the Queen of Hearts, Killian and Emma, and their friends and family are ready to enjoy the happiness they've earned. However, a new threat is about to rise that may put those happy beginnings in grave jeopardy.

by: @snowbellewells

~~ prologue: altogether in one place

As a cooling breeze blew in off the water of the harbor to combat the bright heat of an early May afternoon, Killian Jones smiled easily, enjoying the trace of air over his neck and ruffling his dark hair as he headed back up the street from the docks toward the center of town. It was a perfect day for the celebration he was on his way to attend, planning to meet Emma and Henry at the pretty little two bedroom cottage not far from the harbor that they moved into some weeks past, before the three of them walked the rest of the way to Granny’s together. The rest of their family and several friends were doubtless already gathering at the diner’s outdoor tables for the planned picnic. It was Mother’s Day, and the first which Emma would be able to spend with her mother, and with her boy as well. Killian smiled fondly at the tentative joy mixed with nervous anticipation on his love’s face as they’d spoken of it laying side-by-side that very morning. His heart had warmed right along with dawn’s first rays peeking through the curtains, glad that Emma could have her loved ones surrounding her, as she always should have. Though his own mother had been gone so long that he only retained the barest memories of a gentle voice singing to him and the twinkle in kind, loving eyes, he still felt not a fiber of his being to be jealous or begrudging of the wealth of love and belonging his lady had found. Emma deserved it all, and more besides.

It helped, he admitted to himself as he neared the front walk, their yard surrounded by white picket fence that he could now see Emma leaning on casually with Henry at her side, that he too had been welcomed into the fold gladly. With the wolf born inside him, his horribly checkered and painful history, and how long he had wandered alone in the world, Killian could never have imagined being accepted as a part of something so good, nor feeling that he mattered to others again. Despite his stunned disbelief, however, he could only continue to be grateful.

As he drew nearer, Henry caught sight of him and waved enthusiastically, a wide grin stretching across his face. “Hey, Killian!” the youth called out. “Are you ready for this?”

“Aye, lad, of course,” he answered with a chuckle, smiling to Emma as well, his heart swelling still further at the blush which rose on her cheeks as he waggled his eyebrows playfully. He turned his attention back to Henry quickly, not wanting the young man to feel dismissed, but instead leaning forward to whisper secretively to Henry, “We wouldn’t want to miss your grandma’s famed cherry chess pie, now would we?”

Henry agreed emphatically with Killian’s winking query, then scampered on ahead of them as Killian pulled Emma into a quick embrace while she stretched up to press a chaste kiss to his lips before they joined hands and followed her son the rest of the way to Granny’s before they were late.

Not many minutes later they were turning into the front seating area of the diner, entering under the arch and being greeted from all sides by family and friends. Ruby bounded over to gleefully wrap Emma in an exuberant hug, whispering in his love’s ear that she wanted to hear what they’d been up to at the new house in a blatant enough way to have the blond blushing once again. Killian followed Henry’s urging over to his grandparents’ table, shaking David’s hand and easing into conversation with Emma’s father thankfully.

He liked the people gathered around him very much, but so often in the past he had kept to the shadows, on the outskirts of society, either due to prejudice and ostracism or his own attempts to insure others’ safety from the beast within him. Having at last found his home in Storybrooke, and also a peace within himself that he had rarely known, Killian felt as stable as he had ever been in both parts of himself. His wolf had room and freedom to run, even a pack of sorts with Ruby and Graham nearby, and he rarely feared the howling need to break free he had sought to hide or contain in his youth and throughout his years of bitter, aimless wandering.  All that being true, he still sometimes preferred to ease into larger groups one person at a time. Once Emma’s slightly overprotective and traditional father had gotten to know him, Killian found the man quite easy to talk to and good company, so he naturally went to speak with him first.

Their friendship hadn’t taken long to develop once things had settled down around the holidays, some six months ago, after Regina, Cora, and Rumplestiltskin’s defeat. Both David and Killian served as reinforcements to the sheriff’s department when needed (though in sleepy, calm Storybrooke they rarely were) and so had spent many long afternoons when there were no calls sharing long chats, wadded up paper ball free throw contests in the desk trash cans, endless one-upping games of darts, and - if they grew truly desperate - filing of the somehow never ending stacks of paperwork. Their little town had been free of most trouble beyond cats in trees and neighboring fairy tale characters’ squabbles since Thanksgiving. None of them had forgotten that Gold was still simmering impotently in his shop (surely wanting revenge, but hands tied by the fact that his dagger forbade it, thanks to Emma’s brilliance).  In fact, the citizens were enjoying an everyday normality most of them had never been able to experience before - in either this realm or the Enchanted Forest.

So, though there was often hardly enough work to keep one person busy, Graham had remained Sheriff, and kept Emma on as his deputy. Killian’s eyes found his sandy-haired fellow wolf amidst the happy crowd of partygoers, attentively leaning to whisper something in Belle’s ear where she sat talking to Granny Lucas herself, along with Nova, Leroy, Bashful, and Doc. The Sheriff was clearly happy to watch over his girlfriend, glad just to see her in high spirits, having brought her a drink and standing behind her chair to listen and look on. Graham had always been a good and competent lawman, but now that he was completely free to act of his own will and as he saw fit, it became even more clear just how kind, compassionate, and worthy a man he was. He no longer had to glance over his shoulder at each turn, fearing retribution for his choices. The townspeople liked and trusted him even more than they had before, seeing how dedicated he was to their causes and thorough in handling problems immediately and lawfully for the good of all to the best of his ability.

Watching just a moment longer, Killian saw Belle pause in her conversation, looking up over her shoulder at Graham with an adoring expression in her eyes, resting her hand over his where he had placed it on her shoulder. Something passed between them wordlessly, so slight that it went unnoticed by most around them, but to Kilian’s honed and heightened senses, it sent almost a frisson of intense feeling all the way across the space to where he stood. He didn’t know what it meant, but he found himself more than a little curious, and happy for his friends whatever the cause of their joy.

His attention was drawn back to his own immediate circle when David threw his head back in a booming burst of laughter as Henry finished relating how Killian had recently taken he, his mom, and his friends Grace, Nicholas and Ava out fishing and swimming on the Jolly. It wasn’t the first time Killian had dropped anchor in the harbor where the preteens could dive off the bow and bob in the waves to cool off while he and Emma sat in the sun watching over them and talking, but what had gotten such a reaction from his grandpa was the mental image of Ava’s disastrous practice at casting and somehow catching her hook in Grace’s hair. The ensuing noisy melee had caused quite a commotion until they’d gotten Grace free from the painful tangle, reassured Ava that they all knew it was an accident and gotten back to catching fish rather than each other.

As the afternoon wore on, Killian relaxed into the atmosphere of easy camaraderie around him, graciously complimenting his hostess on the lightness of her dinner rolls and the fine quality of her rum - to which he earned a sniff of begrudging thanks but also a sidelong smile. He exchanged a few words with Belle on the last book she had recommended to him and what he thought of it so far, and though she carried an obvious glow of satisfaction and practically radiated good humor, he was no closer to the reason that it seemed so especially prominent today, even after conversing with her. He exchanged pleasantries with Graham, and let Henry drag him into a ridiculous game of Pin the Tail on the Donkey that Snow had organized to hilarious results with the assorted dwarves’ poor aim and inebriated states by that hour of the waning day.

Despite what else he was doing however, his eyes were continually drawn back to Emma wherever she was. There was the simple fact that he couldn’t help but marvel at her beauty, for one thing. Her golden hair stood out like a beacon in any gathering, this one no exception, and the very sight of those flowing waves cascading down her back against the red leather of her favorite jacket made his hand itch to brush through its silky softness.  Her long, lean form, her throaty chuckle, and the sparkle in her jade green eyes all made hunger rise in him that had him aching to pull her out of the party and into the first empty room he could find. A long life of practice made him able to rein in his desires, but it certainly didn’t slake them in the least.

He remembered too that it was nearing the full moon, which made all his more canine traits closer to the surface. As intensely protective as he would have been anyway, because he loved her, the animal instinct within demanded he be aware of his mate and her safety at all times. Especially when they were out in the open and not alone, whether or not those with them were friends and the gathering innocent. There was possessiveness as well that he could contain, but not vanquish completely. Between those two impulses warring inside his average human faćade, Killian was rather proud of himself for managing to eventually retreat to a corner table with his drink, lean back in a chair and observe the goings on around him with at least the air of calm.

Still, needless to say, he was relieved when the festivities did begin to break up an hour or so later. Many called out a friendly goodbye to him, and he waved back jovially to them.  Some, like David, came over to say ‘good night’ and make plans for when they’d get together next. When Emma finally came up to him with an easy smile and an outstretched hand, asking him if he was ready to head home for the night with a teasing tilt of her head and playful “Captain?” he was on his feet in a moment. With Henry in tow, they headed back toward their house on the shore as the stars came out above.

A deep sense of satisfaction warmed Killian once again at the very idea that this could be his life, while Emma leaned into his side as they walked and Henry pointed out the various constellations that he had learned to recognize through Killian’s tutelage. It was more happiness than he once could have imagined having in his life on a regular basis. In a few days he would need to prepare for shifting about three nights in a row, as was his monthly due, but for tonight, he could sense it was still safely far enough off to take his time seeing the two most important people in his life home safely and enjoy that they saw him as one of their own.

Once they reached the front gate, Henry hurried on up the walk and into the house with a “See you tomorrow!” for his mom’s boyfriend. Alone at long last, Emma turned to him, her face tilted up to his with a devious glimmer in her expression. Only moments ago, he wouldn’t have imagined things could get much better, but when she ran her hands up his torso to rest on his chest and whispered invitingly, “Wanna come in for a nightcap, Sailor?” she blew his mind all over again. 

A couple of drinks, an entire bowl of popcorn and a movie later, they were cuddled together on the couch in Emma’s living room, making out like two teenagers.  Killian didn’t leave his love’s arms again until the next day dawned. Slipping out to his boat before Henry could walk up and begin scavenging through the cupboards for his breakfast cereal, Killian stooped to place a kiss on Emma’s groggy forehead as she mumbled a sleepy farewell. No one else in the house was stirring as the former pirate headed away down the walk, and he was too cheerful and relaxed to be on his guard, so the eyes watching his every move from the shadows as he moved toward the docks, went unnoticed…

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

Far removed from the cheerfulness and revelry of the rest of the town and their holiday celebrations, Mr. Gold was holed up in the dim, shrouded back room of his shop, scowling silently at a clouded orb with its contents swirling inside. He hadn’t bothered to unlock or open his shop doors today, not wanting to see the idiotic smiles of the townsfolk, nor to waste effort pasting on a smile and haggling to make sales that mattered little to him, all things considered. No, all that mattered now was possessing the one item which could free him of the Savior’s binding order stoppering his Dark One powers to set things right. He would be loosed of her interfering magical hold; it was merely a matter of tracing the artifact to its hiding place and summoning an accomplice he knew was powerful enough to aid him in the ritual needed to slip the noose of his Dagger’s control, and therefore Miss Swan’s meddling command.

All the pieces were in place; once the crystal showed him where his former compatriot could be found, he would set the ball rolling.  He would make Belle see sense, return her to her place by his side, where she clearly belonged. That Sheriff who had dared to try taking his place in Belle’s affections would rue ever having his heart put back in his chest. And that wretched cur ...that wolf he had nearly finished off before - and the woman who had prevented it, who had the audacity to tangle with him and think she could defeat the Dark One - both of them would pay, once and for all.

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

@jrob64 @apiratewhopines @spartanguard @therooksshiningknight @xarandomdreamx

@motherkatereloyshipper @booksteaandtoomuchtv @anmylica @stahlop @myfearless-love

@teamhook @revanmeetra87 @hollyethecurious @winterbaby89 @darkcolinodonorgasm

@elizabeethan @donteattheappleshook @the-darkdragonfly @bluewildcatfanatic @xsajx

@undercaffinatednightmare @caught-in-the-filter @drowned-dreamer @jonesfandomfanatic @kday426

@lfh1226-linda @linda8084 @resident-of-storybrooke @optomisticgirl @tiganasummertree

@belovedcreation @eddisfargo @zaharadessert @laianely @goforlaunchcee

[winterbaby89]

Supernatural Summer Artist Highlight: abeylin1982

In the Inaugural year of the @cssns​ I was honored to be paired with the beyond amazing @abeylin1982​ for my fic The Fate of the Medjai. To this day I stop and marvel at the gorgeous art she made for me and my humble story, and am still beyond honored that she worked with me and made such amazing works of art. I mean look at this art 👇🏽

CSSNS 2022 needs more artists! If you are artistically inclined in any way I hope you’ll sign up. Don’t miss out on the opportunity to work with an author, to combine your efforts. It is genuinely one of the best experiences I’ve had in fandom.

Go show abeylin1982 some love (link below), if you want to find the fic (still a WIP, link below), if you’re so inclined to join the CSSNS (link below)

CSSNS sign-up form is HERE.

Fate of the Medjai is HERE.

Abeylin1982 is HERE.

[searchingwardrobes]

CS Fic Rec Monday: Seal of Fate by distant-rose

I know I have been MIA for fic rec Monday for awhile now, but it wasn’t by choice. It just seemed like every Monday something came up. It ended up working out, however, because my dear friend @distant-rose was just interviewed by @the-citrus-scale (formerly The Lemon Mag). My fic rec for this week is her story from last year’s Captain Swan Supernatural Summer:

Seal of Fate - Emma Swan is so well written in this selkie fic! I always say that no one “gets” Emma Swan better than Ro, and in this story, she gets her personality spot on. There is a mystery to be solved as well and there were twists I didn’t see coming. The CS romance is wonderfully, realistically done, but it doesn’t take away from Emma’s personal mission. I knew next to nothing about selkies before reading this, and it had me drawn in from the very beginning!

I would actually recommend reading ALL of Ro’s fics, and I’m sure this won’t be the last time I rec one!

[courtorderedcake]

LIMBO 2/3

I’m per usual, late. But, I had this queued up originally and it didn’t go through so I made a pretty art thing so I didn’t kill someone. Yay. 

Here is my first finished big piece for @cssns, a dark and gritty romance with heavy CaptainSwan, FrozenJewel and ScarletBelle themes. The second part will be posted later today, and the third late this evening. I have 2 more MCs to present and then I am blessedly finished. 

Will Scarlet is dead, stuck in a plane of existence where all redeemable souls with unfinished business end up. Each soul is assigned a Guardian: A guide to help them navigate The Realm of the Living and to avoid pitfalls there. To Will’s great displeasure he is assigned the mirthless Emma Swan, who’s indifference to his pain infuriates him - until he finds that she harbors her own. Rated: M TW: Child death, Death in general, Angst with a… intrepretation of a happy ending? Idk, just be warned, don’t read this. I’m the Lemony Snicket of fic writers, look away.

Killian was vaguely aware that something was very amiss, if not downright wrong.

His last clear memories were celebrating his new position, one he’d painstakingly worked for years to achieve, his friends around him and Emma by his side. He had refused to drink at his own party, much to his friends’ consternation, but he wanted to remember everything about this night, every detail. Hopefully it was the last night Emma Swan would go without knowing she was to be Emma Swan-Jones in his ideal future. That is, if she’d accept, which with the way she had rested her head on his shoulder he was pretty sure wasn’t an issue.

“Things are good,” she’d whispered, leaning across the passenger side of their car to kiss him.

“Things are only going to get better.” He grinned and she laughed, poking him under the armpit, his body jerking. “Oi, that’s enough of that, now -”

“Tall orders, ‘only better’. Are you sure you can live up to that promise?” Her eyes had gotten darker, and he felt his mouth go dry.

“I am up for the challenge.”

“Then hurry home, sally forth, and all that - I have a present for you that you couldn’t unwrap here.” Her voice had gone husky and Killian felt for sure his pants were suddenly too tight.

They were driving home when Emma had screamed, he thought it was prank at first, but the lights were bright and they were right in their windshield as pain enveloped him. The roof of their car buckled as they rolled, he felt the crack against his skull and for a moment things went black. He could still hear, sounds of the crunch of metal and her strangled cry, and then his head throbbed, bringing back sight; gazing out, lights flashed into the dim. The back of his skull felt so wet and warm, and the top of his head was dripping as he tried to inventory his surroundings. They'd come to a stop at an angle and he'd noticed hazy smoke filling the car,  Emma slumped forward with glass across her face. He dizzily noted how pretty it was in the light. Confused revulsion came next.

He unbuckled himself, surprised that the device still worked, and marveling at how squishy the air bag was, before trying to focus as spots spun in front of him. His brain felt wrong and infantile as he narrowed his thoughts, to come fighting the strange feeling of his body wanting to simply stop, exhaustion creeping up on him. Why couldn't he sleep?

Emma. Get Emma out. One of his arms was useless, a bloody mess he couldn’t get to follow commands. With his good arm, he undid her belt and grabbed under her armpits as well as he could, her head lolling as he dragged her over his seat. She was dragging something under her knee. He gathered her body close, and with sudden clarity understood as he touched her shattered kneecap - Her leg that had been bent in the passenger’s seat was crushed completely. Even through his stunted brain he knew this was bad.

Stumbling back, everything spinning, they fell to the cold asphalt. He saw Emma’s eyes open as what he realized was his scalp flopped over, his hand reaching up to touch wet bone. She reached for him as his vision burned away to darkness, his hand meeting hers the last touch he felt.

When Killian came to, he was alone in a hospital room sitting in a chair, noise filling the empty space. Part of his brain registered that this was eerily strange, unable to rationalize while the other soothed, calming him. This was normal. Things will make sense, everything will be fine.

Emma.

He stood, bare feet cold on the tiled floor. Beeps, whirrs, whispered voices and footsteps swirled around him although he was alone. If he focused, he could make out misty forms of people, like a flickering projector. Nurses roamed the halls, he could see their brightly colored scrubs now, the forms becoming clearer. Rubbing his eyes, he saw another chair next to the hospital bed where Liam sat, head in his hands.

He heard Liam’s sobs and apologies, how he should have given him the ring for Emma.

Bloody well right you should have, you great dolt.

Liam didn’t hear, and he only came back angrier. He talked about working extra hours, about how this was Emma’s fault, about incompetent staff and bad tea. Killian began to pace, the strange peace he had once felt fading. What was Emma’s fault? Certainly not this, whatever this was. Emma would never.

David’s voice. Asking if Liam was coming to the funeral, Liam telling him to get out. Killian raged in unheard fury, he was going to punch that bloody git in the face for talking to his brother-in-law like that - er. His almost brother-in-law. David had left and Killian caught a glimpse of him, his hair unkempt and eyes red rimmed. Who had died? David only had very little family, and Emma… He’d know if Emma was hurt. He felt a pang of uncertainty, the strangeness of his situation breaking through. Liam flickered in and out, standing and pacing, cursing under his breath.

“Why did you choose her? Why did you let her do this to you brother?” Liam slammed his fist into a cabinet, flickering out as his cries echoed in the room.

What is happening to me? Where am I?

Emma finally came to see him after he felt like he’d been there for months, wandering through the empty hospital when his room was quiet. He’d thought he may have heard her voice before, but like tuning for a frequency on a radio, he could never make out her words. He snapped back to his room the minute her words were in his ears. He couldn’t see her as well as his brother, falling to his knees in front of her. She laid across the hospital bed, unaware of his presence.

“Hi, babe.”

Emma, where have you been? Gods above, I’ve been worried sick about you, you’ve had me-

He could hear her voice hitch, and the small sniff of her nose.

Why are you about to cry, love?

“I don’t know if you can hear me -”

Of course I can, sweet, I’m right here, it’s alright —

“I just… I’m so scared and I miss you so much. I keep having dreams about the accident now that I can remember, I can remember you pulling me out. I wish you would wa-”

Her voice fizzled out as her shimmering form snuffed out like a candle. Killian desperately tried to... looking for her, looking for anywhere her voice would ring louder, or to find her strange smoky silhouette. He had no such luck. The strangeness of his new realm was now overwhelming, his inability to speak to anyone or get acknowledged maddening. A woman named Elsa whispered secrets about women he’d never met, and another woman named Ariel hummed softly filling the room in soothing music. He liked them.

Someone named Tremaine, and another, Ursula, he didn’t like. He hadn’t felt anything physically but a numbness that reminded him of when his feet fell asleep; when those two flickered into being he felt pain. Killian realized finally that he was somehow outside of his body and something was preventing him from understanding this situation.

Emma came again. He could see her better, his clarity of people and things much clearer as time had passed. Instead of a smoky haze, she was a faded photo negative, a washed out sepia. When he tried to touch her there was no resistance as if she was air.

“I’m supposed to let you go. That’s what Regina says, that I should ‘move on,”

Well, tell ‘Regina’ to bugger right on off then, love.

“And I know that’s what you’d want, you wouldn’t want me to wait for you,”

Whoa now, wait a minute, of course I want you to wait for me, I just need to get ! Move on? Emma, what the bloody hell are you on about woman, are you mad?

“The thing is, I can’t, Killian. Just…” her voice broke and she sobbed, he found himself longing to hold her.  “I love you so much. Please, don’t hate me for wanting you.”

I could never hate you Emma, please, don’t cry. It’s alright, I could never tire of you wanting me.

It became a cycle, Liam, Elsa, Ariel and Tremaine with Emma popping up here and there.

Killian began to understand, even if he didn’t want to believe.

“That brother of yours is a real asshat,” Elsa hissed, wearing blue and fiddling with an IV bag. Killian read a magazine left open, enjoying any stimulation he could find. “I hope you can’t hear the bastard.”

You don’t even know. He’s an insufferable stubborn git on his best days.

“If I could move you to another hospital I would. Best in the country, bollocks. Can’t even make a proper cup of tea.” Liam thumbed through a book, sipping out of a styrofoam cup. Killian wished for a moment he could enjoy any cup of anything. He’d started to feel thirst, a strange heat and chill that came without warning, and pain in his abdomen.

Liam, I wish I could move that giant head of yours out of your ass.

“I miss hearing your voice, Killian.” Liam let out a small laugh, rubbing his eyes. “You’d be telling me where to shove it right now.” His voice wavered, eyes becoming watery. “I don’t know how to be without you. You were my balance, my levity. Even during this feud... I’m so sorry, I just wanted you to make the right choices.”

I miss you too Liam. I missed you when you were convinced my happiness was too risky. I just wanted you to be proud of me.

“I wish I could tell you how proud I am of you. I went by your home, I saw your designs and the proposal for the restoration of that frigate. It was… I’m so sorry I ever doubted you.” Liam cried openly, and Killian felt the walls of his reality crumbling slowly. He was pulled, a strong yank of some force he could not fight that sent him spiraling into darkness. A shrill beeping alarm sounded, Liam yelling as footsteps flooded in, a fire filling him with agony. There was a light, and he reached for it, begging for help as he was pulled further and further away.

He woke again to Emma’s gentle cries, the darkness dissipated. He sat in the bed, confused.

“You almost died, and I… I was happy for a moment. I’m so sorry, I just wanted…” Her sobbing was uncontrolled, her shoulders shaking. “I am so selfish, Killian, please wake up. Meet someone else, live your life, have children, please.”

Emma… You wanted me to…?

Killian’s reality crumbled into dust. He had almost died? A force compelled him to look behind him.

Turning to look at the bed, he saw himself, or what was left of himself. Tubes ran through his mouth, his hair was shaved to the scalp, as artificially steady breaths were pumped into his system. His frame was smaller, chest almost concave and bandaged.

Emma, you’re…?

“I just want to see you happy. I don’t want this for you, I want you to live, to open your eyes.”

You’re alive, you’re alive, Emma, you’re alive and we’ll go back home, we’ll go back and everything will be -

“I wish I hadn’t died. I wish you and I had lived the life we deserved.”

No. No, Emma, how can you be - What are you?

“I’ve decided to wait, regardless of anything. I’m not giving up on you. You’re a survivor.” He watched her stroke his body’s face, slender fingers he tried to hold without success. “I’m going to become a Guardian. I’ve already started training, and it will give me more time to visit you. I love you, more than anything.”

She disappeared where he could not follow, leaving him alone in limbo.

Killian began to walk, aimlessly exploring while lost in his thoughts of Liam, Emma, and - surprisingly - his mother. Threading his memories and what he’d heard from stray bits of conversation together, a  picture appeared. There had been an accident. Emma had… He struggled to even think about it, but she had died. He had survived, if you could call it that. Chained to a bed by encroaching brain death, his freedom lost to machines holding him in stasis.

A stasis that created this world of watching. Killian was a spectator as his body fought, wondering if he’d live or die as he suffered through infections and experimental treatment.

Liam willed him to live, Emma willed him to live, and Killian… he simply wanted to be heard.

He talked to Emma, answering her and wondering what he’d do if she answered back. She never did. Hearing her voice was enough still. He loosely tried to keep track of time, but he noted the date when she brought a man with her. He’d noticed her appearance changing with sadness, her loose curls pinned tight and her posture going prim. She’d reverted to her walled state, untouchable and unable to be hurt or abandoned.

The man - she’d called him Will -  opened the drawer of photographs Liam had hidden away. Killian loved their pictures. He’d taken millions of photos of them, millions more of Emma as he mapped her body in every way possible. One of his favorite rattled in the drawer, a timed picture on a ship he rented, them kissing on the deck standing still with lips pressed together at dusk for what felt like ages.

The resulting photo was gorgeous - a silhouette of them against moving stars and sunset colors. Laying under a blanket they’d talked for hours. She had turned to him, a serious look on her face that at first scared him.

She said with a serious look they needed to talk, and he’d panicked, terrified of what she’d say. The words left her mouth and his heart flip flopped in his chest, until her laughter bubbled over as he hugged her closer.

She’d told him she’d changed her mind - having a baby wouldn’t be so bad.

This Will closed the drawer, and Killian watched as he returned to talk to Emma.

"When I first started coming here, after understanding I'd have to move on, I thought he responded to me. I thought," she looked up and swiped at her eyes and cheeks, "I thought he could hear me and I was some savior that would bring him back to me.”

Oh, my sweet Swan. I do hear you. I’ve never left you, and you’ve never left me.

“I wanted, sometimes I still want..." she let out a sob and looked at the plug near him where wires ended in thick black plugs.

In some ways he wished she would unplug him.

He watched as Liam trashed Emma again and again, his brother’s pain pinpointed into hatred for someone who couldn’t defend herself. Emma, in her grace, pushed Liam together with his nurse, and Killian watched his brother’s hatred melt away into love, a man Killian had never seen emerging from his pain.

Their pictures went back up, Killian marveling at Emma and his smiling face out in the open again. Emma always lingered near one he knew was her favorite, autumn leaves bright as they laughed.

They stood next to each other, one unaware of the other. He ached. Even after she left he ached, the ache turning into worse pain. Another nurse came in, finding the problem. Tremaine had left a bandage unchanged.

Emma stayed with him as pain continued to return, and his nurses fought to keep him stable. She murmured about staying too long, and he watched her move like clockwork making sure things were in order. For the first time in ages, she flickered. Days went by and she continued to fade, staying longer with him.

She disappeared shortly after, Liam gone as well. It was quiet, the nurses’ footsteps and scratched pen to clipboard the only noises he heard. His body began to burn. The familiar feeling of infection running wild through him, but somehow worse. The familiar snap back into darkness was an unwelcome guest, his veins made of fire that lit to an inferno. Machines began to beat off the chart, the familiar light showing up in his peripheral.

He heard Liam’s yells, and then there was brightness, brightness that blinded him and dazzled his eyes, pain taken away in an instant of light flowing through him.

When he blinked, he sat before a smiling man in a tweed suit, a cricket pin on his lapel.

“Hello Mr. Jones. Welcome.”

“What - I died?”

The man blinked, scratching his ginger hair and adjusting his glasses. “Well, um, yes. Most people don’t remember -”

“I need to find someone. I think she’s here, I -”

“Mr. Jones, calm down if you will, please. We have to talk about -”

“I don’t give a damn, I need to find her, I need to find her now!”

“Mr. Jones, that’s not how things work, there’s rules and procedures -”

“What part of ‘I do not give a damn’ did you not understand, mate?” Killian’s voice rose and the man cowered slightly. A door behind him flew open, Killian turning with his jaw set.

“Oi! What’s this then, trouble, Hopper? Listen here -” Recognition crossed both the faces of Killian and the man before him, sudden understanding blinking into existence. “You!”

Killian actually laughed, a grin starting on his face. “My reputation precedes me, I see. Will. Finally I get to say hello.” Will glanced down, and when he looked up gave him an uneasy look. “Where is she?”

Turning to the man still clinging to his chair, Will nodded towards Killian. “Hopper, uh, this is… This is Emma’s…”

Hopper’s face paled more, his lips pulling down. “Oh no.”

Killian repeated himself, anxiety rising in his chest. “Where is she? Where is Emma?”

Will sighed. “It’s a long story, and… Look, ‘ave a seat. We’re going to be here for a bit.”

“Is Emma alright?” Killian felt his anxiety grow into full blown fear, fists clenching as his body tensed.

Will looked at him with pity, and Killian could feel his heart breaking.  He sank into a chair as Will wrung his hands, eyes becoming glassy.

“No. I’m so sorry, but Emma… Emma is gone.”

Elsa took a week off, using her rarely touched vacation days and citing a family emergency, causing her sympathetic friends and coworkers in the ward no surprise. For the first time in what felt like decades, the patient room on the corner was empty; a stark and vacuous reminder of how fragile things were. Tremaine had been fired, much to many nurses’ relief, and when Liam had not come back to collect many of Killian's items, they were put down to be boxed up and put in a cabinet for pickup or eventual shipment. 

The nurse that had the sad task of preparing Mr. Jones’ room for a new patient was Ariel, her heart heavy as she packed picture after picture away. She was surprised how cold it was in the room, checking the thermostat and finding it set to a normal 71°; the cold made no sense. That would need to be checked,  she noted. When she reached for a particular frame of the patient carrying a blonde haired woman on his back, both laughing, she felt an intense feeling of someone watching her, boring holes through her being. She touched the frame, and it shot out of her reach towards the empty bed, landing squarely in the middle as the lights flickered.

She shrieked, running out of the room, and to the nursing station.

“Ariel, what the heck -” another nurse, Ella, hissed at her.

“That room- room 305! The lights and that- a picture! It flew!” Ariel was obviously shaken, and refused to go back in there even as her boss was called to press her.

“I'm down two nurses already, please just get someone to take care of it,” he'd intoned in his nasally voice.

By the time he came in the next day, none of the nurses would go in the room, even with the pictures removed. By the time Elsa returned the next week, it was a hospital wide rumor. Elsa had immediately laughed, as at precisely 4:07 pm on the dot the lights flickered, her immediate belief that it was an insensitive joke the team was playing. Solemn faces met hers.

“Watch, Elsa.” Whispered Aurora, pointing to the door. “In three minutes, that door is going to fly open by itself.”

Elsa looked around for a clock, noticing only now the small groups from other departments milling around and watching. Even some patients had joined to watch, and she felt her stomach turn uneasily. The clock showed time passing in the slowest of measure, and for a moment the ward was quiet enough to hear a pin drop. Nothing happened, but as she turned to tell Aurora off,  the door slammed open as lights flickered, papers on the nursing station fluttering around in an icy breeze.

“The paper thing is new,” Aurora commented, casually. The lights above them flickered, along with a few down the hallway as people gasped and in a few cases (one being Dr. Whale) screamed curses. “So… is that...” Aurora said more nervously. When the nursing station’s cabinet doors ripped open with a clatter, spilling contents, Aurora yelped along with a majority of the Ward's staff, Ariel almost in tears. “That is definitely new,” Aurora hissed.

Elsa could only gape as the lights returned. She had a sudden memory come to mind, snapping her fingers, and turned to Aurora.

“There's a nanny cam still in that room, from before when Li…” she paused, took a deep breath and collected herself “When the last patient was here. I'll grab it and we'll see if this is actually a haunting.”

Before she could be convinced otherwise, Elsa walked into room 305.

It was cold, dark and empty, nothing amiss as far as she could tell as she walked to the shelf she'd tucked the camera behind, in between rolls of paper towels and extra gowns. Pulling the camera down and carefully removing the memory card, she turned back to the door. As she made her way back, an item caught her eye on the bedside table. A photo frame. Squinting, she walked over to it. A picture of Liam's brother and his girlfriend? She picked it up and left.

“I thought all of these were taken out to give to his family?” Elsa asked, placing it on the nursing station’s counter.

Aurora blinked at her, and Ariel became caught in hysterics again. “Elsa, we did. Where did you get that?”

“You couldn't have. It was in there on the bedside table.” Elsa was exasperated at this point. She tried to check Aurora's face for any sort of tell, but only got a look of fear.

“Elsa… I taped that box up myself, and half the people here watched. None of us were or are going back in there. Go look, it's in the bottom cupboard.”

Elsa walked to the cupboard, opening the door to find a sealed box with Liam's name on it. The seal was unbroken.

Logging onto her computer, she plugged in the memory card to look at the video files. The camera had promised “120 days of continuous video!” when she bought it, and she had changed the cards right before the Fourth of July so it had plenty of memory. She opened the files, noting that they were separated by month. July was first, and she clicked through a few, watching Liam and her until it became too painful.

She skipped to August, to the night… She took a breath, and clicked on the night the patient had passed. A video of the nurses rushing in, and his furious progression into organ failure. Liam's frame making it just in view for a moment before he was pushed out. Their team working frantically until slowly, they trickled out leaving Liam, his brother and the doctor alone.

Finally the doctor left, and Liam sat alone for hours until his brother was taken to the morgue, leaving only then. Elsa refused to cry, tears spilling over anyway as she wiped them away. This wasn't what she was here for. The next day began automatically. Nothing. An empty room. At 2:45pm, a breeze moved the bedsheets of the cot slightly, but nothing was amiss.

The next day, the same, the bed sheets moved slightly around 2:45pm, and Elsa presumed rationally that is when the AC kicked on. That day however, the bedsheets moved more forcefully, as if an unseen hand was pulling them.

The third day, Ariel stepped in around 1:00pm and began collecting personal effects. She moved to pictures on the bedside, and looked around shivering. When she reached for a photo, the lights flickered and when they turned back on Elsa could see the picture on the bed just as she described as she ran out of the room. At 2:45, the bedsheets on the bed smoothed around the picture frame. Elsa blinked, and rewound. As if by magic, the wrinkles and any crooked corners smoothed around the picture frame.

The next day, an exhausted looking Hans walked in, coffee in hand at 8:15am to collect the picture on the bed, shaking his head and calling towards the door. When he touched the frame, the bed shook as the lights flickered, his coffee spilling everywhere. A janitor arrived at slightly after 9 to clean up the spill and remove the picture, only to have every drawer thrown open. Finally, Dr. Bell stomped in, took the picture and stomped out at 4:07, the door to the room slamming itself open and shut several times as the camera’s picture distorted.

Elsa watched in fascination, confusion and terror as she fast forwarded to today's date, watching as the bedside table remained empty. Silence for days besides the door slamming, until she came to where she walked into the room. As she picked the camera up with her face taking up most of the shot, a dark, shadowy, form sat on the bed, placing a picture frame on the bedside table.

He was halfway through a glass of amber liquid when the email appeared in his inbox, Liam almost deleting it on the spot. His phone was set straight to voicemail in hopes of aiding his ambition to drink, unable to think about the quiet burial on a rainy morning. The bottom of a bottle was soothing, the only noise the clink of glass or the sound of things he’d broken. He’d forgotten the ping of emails on his laptop until the noise broke through a hangover.

“Please respond - Killian’s belongings” from a hospital email, the nurse who had called him the night that… He pushed the memory from his mind, not opening the message. The next day, another email arrived.  “Urgent!!! - Please get these items!!!” again from this Ariel, desperate for him to answer. This time he did delete the messages, watching as they populated in his trash folder.

He didn’t hear from her again for a few days, when another message appeared. “Viral Video - In case you see it online first: rm305 ghost?” His confusion was only matched by his anger. He opened the message to find a short message, followed by a video link.

“Mr. Jones,

I hate to reach out to you like this, but your brother has some items here that are causing some issues and we have unable to reach you by phone. We recently have had some problems in rm 305, and while it was only a hospital issue, a video regarding the situation has leaked to YouTube. You are not on these recordings, but considering the nature of them, I wanted to let you know.

We don’t know who leaked them, only that the things in this video cannot be disproven. There may even be an investigation with how much of an issue these occurrences are causing, and they have closed down our ward. The hospital is working diligently to find who leaked this, but we have no leads yet.

I know this may sound crazy, but I think you should watch this and consider coming by.

-Ariel Maidon”

Clicking the link took him to a video called, “ROOM 305 GHOST MERCY HOSPITAL”, and he felt his eyes narrow. The video started off with the blurred face of a nurse gathering photos into a box as she looked around the room anxiously. He recognized them immediately: Killian’s prized collection of photos once displayed on his mantle. The nurse reached for a frame, and the lights flickered, the picture appearing in the hospital bed.

Liam was beyond livid. This was a mockery, some fool’s insensitive way to make money off of his brother. He went to grab his phone and call his lawyer, when Elsa’s face came into frame, blurred out but unmistakable. Circled behind her was a black shadow figure, holding a framed picture. Elsa was in on this? His rage boiled over, speaking to his lawyer in clipped tones.

Slamming his thumb onto the red end call button, he hung up, feelingt more anger than before : The video showed nothing of him or his brother, nor was it his own intellectual property. There was nothing he could do except talk to the hospital. After another tumbler or two of rum, he resigned himself. Sending an email to Elsa, he asked her to tell him what she knew about this ‘ghost’.

When Belle went home, it was as if nothing had changed, like she’d decided to turn around instead of heading to school. Will was waiting at the bus stop where she’d left him years ago. The best friend who she’d abandoned forgave her instantly, his crooked smile everything she needed. Even when she sobbed into his embrace, he let her be.

Will at first simply protected her, and she helped him come up with ideas for businesses. Where he felt his skills were limited, Belle saw potential. He picked their lock for fun one night after they had drinks, showing her how insecure her place was, and she’d suggested locksmithing. He’d smiled over his beer.

The first time Gold sent someone for Belle she’d been terrified. The ogre of a man had broken down her door, locks and all, yelling at her about squealing to an informant. She’d denied it, screaming for help. Luckily her landlord had called the police and the distant sirens had scared the stranger off. The first person she’d called was Will. He’d set her up in a different place, until she was found again, and then again in a hotel she’d rented. Finally after she noticed someone following her, she’d begged Will for help. His business in town was having no success due to his reputation so he made her an offer.

“Let’s move away. Come with me.”

If her heart warmed for the first time since she lost Gideon, she pretended not to notice.

In a new apartment, in a new town, they settled into a routine. Belle had saved a large sum of money in a hidden bank account for her and Gideon to escape if they needed to, planning on running years ago but always being too scared. She purchased a small shop space, devoted to books, becoming quite the collector of old or discontinued print items. Will’s locksmith business was also taking off, and they found themselves happily eating dinners together or sitting and watching a movie together after long days.

Belle made the first move, tentatively laying against him and bring Will’s arm over the dip in her side, snuggling into him. A soft kiss on the cheek came next as a thank you for a birthday cake and a framed picture of Gideon and her together. A full kiss that left them both breathless after his team had won the World Cup, which turned into a long and slow session of kissing on their couch.

Things went slow. Belle’s heart healed and reset, a friendly love turning into something more. His hand found hers at the movies, hers snaking into his when they found time to go for walks. Will listened to her cry and comforted her through bouts of sorrow so deep and dark she could not see an end. Even then, he’d waited patiently without pushing anything a all until she sought him, laughing when she told him why they shouldn’t be together: because love is terrible.

“I dunno. I’ve had unrequited love since 6th grade or so, and it’s hard, but never terrible. The only pain I ever got from it was watching her suffer, but watching her heal has helped a lot.”

There was warmth in her chest like when she first kissed Gold, but this time it had dimension, layers, a foundation without cracks. At night when she thought more about it, she remembered Will running to her, or his promises when she would visit him and stare through the glass at his guilty face. Crawling out of bed and laying next to his body, Belle watched him stir, holding her breath. Will’s surprised blinks through grogginess are at first in shock, then happiness, as he gathered her into him.

“If this turns out to be a dream, I’ll be right pissed off,” he mumbled sleepily, and she laughed, falling asleep with him.

Her old room was bigger with an ensuite, but his bed more comfortable. After what felt like a day of torture, his bed now in her room and her lumpy mattress rested on the curb, they had purchased a desk for a new home office where Will could run things run things instead of from the living room. When he suggested a date to celebrate, they ended up dancing through the aches left from moving furniture all day and medicating with a Long Island special that left her drunk.

She’d begged him over sloppy kisses to touch her, and heard his groans as needy as hers. When she woke up clothed, Will greeted her with coffee.

“You’re going to have one helluva hangover, love.” He smiled sympathetically.

“We didn’t?”

“No. Until you’re ready, and can tell me when you’re sober to the point I believe you won’t regret it, I’d never.” He sipped his coffee on the edge of the bed. “I’m an idiot, and probably a fool, but not a monster.”

She’d cried, smiling like an idiot and confusing the hell out of him as he went to put his arms around her.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright -�� rubbing her arms with his hands, as she shook her head.

“Will, I love you.”

Regina, Ruby, and Ruby’s charge made their way to Hopper’s office at a run, his call to them punctuated by bursts of yelling and the breaking of the various ceramics he had collected. Regina had no patience for this sort of thing. If she had a choice, she’d be sipping a martini while being fanned by a number of muscular men - but this was The Inbetween, not Paradise.

Ruby, on the other hand, was annoyed for an entirely different reason, watching the student she’d traded Hopper files and a week’s worth of pay for buttoning his fly as they ran to Hopper’s aid. Graham, a zoologist and nature filmmaker. They’d bonded over a love of wolves, the outdoors, and dying woefully single while still gorgeous. She liked the way his name tasted on her lips, and he just liked the way she tasted. Whatever this call was, it had better be good.

It was.

Will stood, red faced and panting, facing a dark haired and half crazed looking stranger. The stranger chucked something at him with a snarl, before launching himself at Will who was busy dodging. Regina’s eyes went wide, a muttered swear before she dragged the stranger back.

“What the hell,” Regina pulled back on the dark haired man’s form as he struggled against her chokehold, “is going on here?” She thought for a moment he looked familiar, but could not place where.

“Will! Are you alright? Who is that?” Ruby ran to WIll, noticing a trickle of blood beginning to disappear on his forehead. “Jesus, how many times did he hit you?”

Archie chimed in, poking his head up over his desk chair. “A lot, they’ve been going at it blow for blow, and my mediating isn’t working, because Will -”

“It’s my fault, let him hit me.” Will spat blood, and Ruby’s eyes turned back to the stranger. “I told him he could, and I deserve it.”

Escaping Regina’s grip for a moment, the stranger lunged again rasping out words in his rage.

“Bloody right it’s your fault, she’s not here and she waited! Emma waited for me, and you let her…” He let out a sound of anguish. “You bastard, you should have noticed -”

Regina’s eyes widened as she pulled the man back into a head lock, recognition finally lighting her eyes. “Oh, shit.” She leaned her arm back, tightening on his windpipe. “Well. It is you, isn’t it? Killian?”

Killian wheezed in her grasp. “Bad form to hit a lady, let me go so I can -”

Ruby blinked, finally putting the pieces together. “Wait, is he? You’re Killian? Like, Emma’s unfinished business?”

Will nodded. “I told him I’d take him to her, but we can’t fix it. We can’t fix…” His shoulders dropped, fists balled as he looked away. “He can take it out on me. It’s not like I won’t heal from it. He can push me off rooftops as far as I’m concerned at this point.”

“Don’t you dare cry for her!” Killian snarled again, shaking with rage.

Ruby’s face fell, Graham moving over to wrap an arm around her waist. Regina’s grip softened, but as Killian moved to lunge again, she grabbed his wrist twisting his arm. He was forced to a kneel, her grip a vice that he couldn’t escape.

“Don’t you dare tell us not to cry for her.” Regina spoke in a low voice, wavering at the end of the sentence. “I watched as she sat with you for hours. Will was her charge. Ruby and Hopper tried to make her laugh. We were her friends. Emma told us everything there was about you.”

“He ate so healthy, when he wakes up the hospital food will drive him insane.” Ruby imitated in a pitch perfect imitation of Emma. Killian turned, a glare softening. “And she’d imitate you: ‘How dare you give me bloody gelatin,’ with a smile.”

“She said we’d be fast friends, more than once. Should ‘ave known it’d come to blows.” Will looked up, crying. “She was my best friend here. Her home is right next to mine -”

“Emma had a home here?” Killian interrupted in a quiet voice.

Will nodded. “I don’t know if it will stay up, though, I’ve been watching for looters or anyone poking around. I won’t let anyone take the last fragments of her.”

There was a pause, heavy silence falling over the room.

“I’ll take you, if you want.” Regina bent down laying a hand on Killian’s shoulder and releasing her grip. He shook her off, glaring ahead at Will.

“No. He can take me.” Killian nodded at Will, who walked to the door without a word before turning to look at Hopper, sitting in his desk chair.

“Hopper, have his file on my desk. I’ve got this one.” Will left, and Killian followed behind, shoes crunching on shards of ceramic. They headed for the residential area in silence.

Emma’s home was undisturbed, one of Will’s charges sitting on the porch.

“Hey Will!” She waved, red hair falling everywhere. “I didn’t expect you to be back so early, but no one has tried anything.”

“Thanks Merida. I’ll see you later.” He waved her off, even as she cast strange looks at the man behind him. Looking back, Killian’s jaw was set, face set in quiet anger, softening as he saw Emma’s home. He stared ahead at the small house, and Will approached, touching the sea glass windchime near the door.

“She said it was for good luck,” Will said quietly. Killian nodded, his face crumbling.

“We had one at home.” Joining Will on the small porch, he gently touched a piece of sea glass, listening to the chiming pieces. “I guess they didn’t work.”

Will opened the door, and as soon as Killian stepped inside his anger was replaced with longing and grief. Leaning in the doorway, Will watched Killian take a few steps, breathing in the cinnamon and vanilla scent of her, breaking into tears. Touching her things, soft blankets on a red leather couch, paintings of the sea under the stars or a VW bug the color of sunshine. A buttercup growing in a pale blue pot, closely guarded, brought sobs through a smile, but a sketchbook filled with scratched kohl drawings of him brought actual laughter.

“She never liked to draw. Only painting, and even then she didn’t like me to watch.” Killian’s voice was a hoarse whisper.

“Things get boring here if you don’t find new hobbies. She started that because…” Will looked suddenly uncomfortable.

“What? I’m done punching you, mate.”

“She started that because she said she was forgetting you,” Will murmured. The sentence filled the room, stretching into guilt so heavy it ached on their shoulders. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s… It’s alright. Can you take me to her? I’m ready.” Killian pulled a pillow into his embrace, closing his eyes.

“I can, sometimes time moves funny here, so a few weeks have past. I’m going to tell you though, we can’t fix this. So are you planning on staying with her?” Will cast his glance down, already knowing the answer.

“If that’s what it takes to be with her.”

“You won’t be with her though, you’ll be looking for her for eternity. Haunts don’t react to one another unless it’s drastic - Like a murder or trauma.” Will’s voice rose. “Emma wouldn’t want you to -”

“Don’t tell me what Emma would have wanted.” The dangerous low growl was back, Killian’s eyes narrowed. “She’s not here, because of you. Take me to her.”

Will sighed. A puff of gray smoke and they were in a hospital hallway, Killian feeling sick from the pull in his navel. The lights were off, yellow tape on his old room and the ward doors, but someone was there and yelling.

“What did you do!”

Liam’s voice? Killian blinked. What the hell was his brother doing here? Peeking around the corner, two figures sat in the empty nurses’ station. Liam looked a right mess, his hair unruly, dark circles under his eyes,  and the beginnings of a beard growing.

“I didn’t do anything. I promise you.” Elsa’s voice pleading. “Liam, you look terrible. You shouldn’t be here. This was a mistake on my part, When I got your email I thought you…”

Liam grunted. “You thought I what? Was coming to take you back on a date after you showed me proof of a ghost? A ghost that you made up just to garner sympathy?”

“Liam. Please. I thought -”

“Stop thinking and show me the damn ghost like you said you would.”

Killian could rip Liam’s head off, someone caring for his stubborn arse more than anything only to be pushed away by pain.

As if on cue, Will whispered, “Your brother is a prat and a damned asshole.” Killian actually managed a small sad grin at that and nodded.

“If you only knew.” A light flickered with a shower of sparks, and Killian could see something building into a shrouded figure within his old room. Emma. She was here.

“Here we go,” whispered Elsa.

At her words, everything in his old room trembled like an earthquake had hit. Killian turned to Will, extending a hand.

“I’m not sorry for punching you, but thanks. For everything. You were there for her when I couldn’t be, and I can’t be angry at that. Goodbye,” Killian said with a nod, and Will shook his hand. He walked into the chaos that was ensuing in the room, listening to his brother’s protests of fake effects.

Emma stood in the middle of the room, a silent wail coming from her mouth as she shuffled towards the nurses station. A mixture of white and grays, faded to an opaque mix of mist that curled like a thick fog rolling in made up an image of her. There was no color, no blonde hair or green eyes, no flush of pink on her cheeks; her lips once a pale rose lost. Her face contorted in fury instead, tendrils of the haze that surrounded her pulsing out as things shook, knocking anything near her over. Pictures of them littered the floor, broken glass everywhere.

“Emma, oh, love.” Killian tried to embrace her, but a cold chill entered his being like being dropped into ice water. She moved through him and he could hear her scream of grief. She was unfazed by his appearance, unable or unwilling to see him. Making her way out the door towards Liam and Elsa, the world shuddered around her. The tape covering the room broke as the nurses’ station’s contents flew everywhere, pelting Liam and Elsa. Liam yelled, a computer keyboard ripping off the desk as drawers and cabinets flying open and shut. Killian could barely hear him above the noise, watching Emma in her wrath. Emma cried, neck straining and cabinet doors fell off their hinges, yanked free as the contents exploded.

“Liam! Look out!” Elsa was screaming about something as she pushed him out of the way, a light shattering where he was before, the piece splitting to hit her in the back of the head. Her body went limp over his.

“We need to get out of here, damn it all, what even is this?” Liam tried to clear a pathway, protecting himself from the hurricane-like debris that rained down on him. “Elsa?” He shook her and she let out a moan without opening her eyes. “No, Elsa, c’mon love.” Liam pulled her further into him, shielding her with his frame.

Killian reached through Emma again, desperately trying to grasp her. “Emma, you’re hurting people, you need to stop!” The roar he heard from her was like an oncoming train. He was thrown away, his own form roughly hitting a wall. Will tried to approach Emma’s form but was thrown as well, her anger practically an electric current running through the air.

Emma only stared at Liam, gently shaking Elsa’s shoulders. She raised a finger, pointing at him. The nurses station and cabinets began to rock, Liam trying to scoot away while being battered from all sides. Killian fought through whatever force surrounded her, arms out to protect himself and reached for her hand. The cabinets rocked harder, brackets splitting the drywall that held them in place. A filing cabinet fell, trapping Liam and Elsa in the nurses’ station, Liam pulled her tightly into his chest, pressing her into him.

“Emma!” Killian reached again, moving closer. “Emma I’m here, I’m here to stay with you!” His hand caught hers, finally grasping something corporeal. Her eyes were on his suddenly, cabinets still rocking but wind lessening. “It’s me love, Killian. I’m here.”

“I couldn’t find you. I was alone, again.” Emma’s voice was the quietest whisper, everything stopping and going still as she looked at him.

“I know. I’m sorry.” Taking several steps forward, he kissed her forehead. “I’m here now. I’ll stay with you, it’s alright.”

“Always?” Warmth met his palms, once cold and stiff. Emma’s fingers wove themselves into his, interlocking. “You’re really here?”

“I’ll never stop fighting for us. I would follow you to the end of the world, and obviously the next.”

“Killian, it’s really you.” Emma let out a laugh, the noise beautiful to his ears. She peppered his face with kisses, laughing at the smile that crept on his face. Her body felt solid in his arms, mist fading away until her eyes were the green he dreamt about.

“Aye, it’s really me.” They laughed, and he spun her in a circle. Will watched in awe at Emma cupping Killian’s face, laughing through tears. He glanced to where Elsa and Liam had been, watching as Liam pulled them out of the nurses’ station now that no debris was flying. A cut on his forehead dripped, and Elsa stirred.

“Liam… You’re bleeding?” She touched the scrape, and he brushed her hand away.

“It’s fine, I’m more concerned about you. Are you alright?” Liam touched the back of her head gingerly, and she winced. “If it’s any consolation, I believe you. That was insane -”

“It’s not normally this bad. I don’t know what made it worse this time…”

Killian smiled. “They’ll be alright, I think.”

Emma returned his knowing look. “I missed you so much.”

Pressing his lips against hers, they kissed, white light blinding in the room. They glowed as the world disappeared, along with all the pain that had been sitting for so long. Emma’s lips moved in perfect sync with his, hands feeling her waist; pulling her closer, making the kiss deeper, more passionate. A gentle golden sparkle and they were gone, leaving a bewildered Liam, Elsa, and Will.

Elsa and Liam glanced at each other, still sitting in his lap. She moved to crawl a few feet, staring at the spot where two very clear figures had embraced passionately - one, for sure, being Liam’s brother.

“Did you see that?” Liam whispered. “Please tell me you just saw that and I’m not imagining things because I’ve gone mental -”

“Your brother and his girlfriend? Either that or we are hallucinating due to a multitude of factors.”

“What the hell just happened?” Liam shook his head, rubbing the heel of his palm firmly against his forehead.

“I don’t know, honestly.” Elsa laughed, looking up at him. “I may have a concussion, but I feel like they - or something - found peace. I don’t know, I guess. This room is just suddenly filled with so much love. It feels like...” Her gaze turned downwards and away. 

“I’m sorry.”

Elsa looked up at him, her head cocked. “For what?”

“Where should I start? Elsa, I’m an idiot and I miss you -” She raised a finger to silence him.

“Liam, I can’t. I loved you. I still…” Looking away, her fingers picked at her braid. “I can’t be like we were.”

“I understand.” Liam stiffened, nodding with a mask of indifference to cover his disappointment.

“I’d like to start over. Maybe we can try again? You just got over losing someone, and I’d love to be there to help you get through it.” Elsa smiled, and Liam’s heart began to pound.

“Pending concussion and or gas inhalation, would you like to get dinner tonight?” He began to stand, helping her up. She picked debris off of him, running her hands down his chest.

“Italian?” Elsa looked up and met his eyes, seeing the same feelings mirrored there.

“Anything you want.”

[initiala]

Oh hai.

It's not dead or abandoned! Remember how I started this for @cssns​ 2018???? Just, y'know, life happening, and also several global catastrophes. But it turns out that writer's block is really cured by procrastination, which is why I was able to finally figure out some spots I was stuck on while not packing up my apartment to move.

Please enjoy this overly delayed post-wedding fluff and smut.

Also on AO3 and FF.Net

______________

The holidays weren’t really something she paid attention to, not after her parents died. Her mother had loved any excuse to have a party and Emma had grown up with the nondenominational trappings of Christmas in their house, but the tradition had died with Snow and David when she was sixteen. She normally spent the last week of December pulling extra shifts at work, covering for people who had families and wanted the extra time off, and never had a second thought about it. The Pack had their own holidays, particularly around the solstices, but nothing compared to the warm, colorful parties of her childhood -- and frankly, nothing ever would. 

So when their short honeymoon fell over Christmas Eve and Day, Emma didn’t think anything of it. Killian made no indication that he celebrated it, and when they returned home on Boxing Day it was to a chilly apartment without any of the decorations that dotted the windows up and down their street. She turned up the heat a little while Killian took their bags back to the bedroom to be sorted out, and she double-checked the windows were locked tight while turning on a few lights in the living room.

The colorful twinkle outside meshed with the light snowfall in a way that made her heart twist painfully in her chest, a flash of her mother’s laughter ringing in her ears and a brief memory of her father cornering her mother under the mistletoe. Her thumb went to the band on her finger, a lump forming in her throat, and she remembered why she normally worked herself to the bone this time of year.

Work was a distraction from missing them.

“Emma?”

She whipped the curtains shut to put an extra layer between the cold glass and the warming room, between herself and her memories, and turned to face her husband as he came into the room. “Love, what’s wrong?” She shook her head, but his large hand engulfed her own as it went to discreetly wipe at her eyes. “Darling, I don’t know if you’ve forgotten this but I can smell when you’re sad,” he said, his voice soft as he pulled her into his embrace. “We’ve been home five minutes, you can talk to me.”

Fuck, she hated talking about her feelings and her parents and particularly her feelings about her parents. But she’d promised -- she’d vowed -- that she’d be more open and honest with him, and she was fairly sure he wouldn’t be able to get lucky and guess what all of this was about. She hadn’t told him enough about her parents to let him put all of the pieces together. “I just… I miss my parents,” she said softly, and let him hold her as he made a sympathetic noise and murmured soothing things in her ear. “Mom really loved this time of year. She threw the best parties, one year she actually got fairies to make it snow inside and me and the other kids had a snowball fight. She loved the colors and the whole family thing and she really loved the smell of pine trees -- it kind of gave my dad a headache. But we made it work because Dad always said how it put an extra sparkle in Mom’s eye and he loved her enough to put up with it. I normally try to work a lot through this time of year, everyone wants extra time off, but I was kind of hoping this year we could have some new memories to make this time of year less sad. And it helped, it really did, but then I just saw the lights outside and the snow and it just… it hit me a little harder because I’ve been trying so hard not to think about them. So I miss my parents and I’m sorry this time of year is going to suck no matter what and--”

Killian shushed her softly and she realized she was crying as he thumbed the tears from her cheeks. “You don’t have to be sorry,” he said. “If I’d known… well, I don’t know what I would have done. I can’t blindfold you everywhere -- well, I could, but not in the fun way --” He grinned as she swatted him on the chest. “So testy, my love. You don’t have to be sorry about missing your parents. You just need to let me know, so I can comfort you or let you sit and mourn them in peace, or drive you to distraction. And if I need to do so more this time of year, well, let it be my burden to bear. You don’t have to bear this alone, Emma, you can always rely on me.”

And didn’t that just make her get teary all over again? “How the hell do you always know the right thing to say?” she asked, burying her face in his chest.

“Because I’m magic,” he rumbled under her and she pinched his side. “And we’re too alike, you know. Now, what do you need?”

She sniffled and took a breath, taking mental stock. They really needed to unpack and get everything sorted out for laundry, but while that would keep her hands busy her mind would wander and she really didn’t want to keep thinking about the past. But she knew that leaving everything until tomorrow or the next day would bother Killian; she didn’t want to be alone right now, either. “Can we bring the bags back out here and watch TV while we unpack? I know you just put them away but--”

He was already nodding, though, and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Whatever you need, love.”

Since he’d been the one to put them away and she was being the emotional asshole, she figured it was only fair that she bring the bags back out. She had no idea how he’d done it all in one trip, not with how narrow the hall was and how much she disliked scuffing her baseboards with the wheels, and surreptitiously eyed them as she made multiple trips back and forth.

No scuffs. “I’m magic,” she mumbled in a sarcastic imitation of her husband’s accent, shaking her head.

Killian had the TV on to the classic movie channel and the unmistakable scent of chocolate lingered in the air. “Dash of cream liqueur, whipped cream, and cinnamon,” he said, handing her a mug as she sat down.

Emma smiled into it, letting the warmth of the drink and the liqueur slide into her belly. “Did I ever tell you Mom’s the reason I like this?”

“Mm, no.”

She watched as he deftly unzipped the largest bag and started sorting through it; she’d done little more than toss everything in without caring about wrinkles, and the whole thing reeked of sex and wine -- they’d had not nearly enough of both over the last few days, but apparently enough to let the scent sink in to all the fabric. A different kind of warmth settled under her skin, but she wasn’t in the mood to act on it just yet. “According to my dad, Mom drank this all the time when she was pregnant with me. Her biggest craving; not that she didn’t like it before, but it was like another level. So then it became our thing, once I was old enough to have some, just sitting together on the couch or in the kitchen or wherever, with our matching cocoa with cinnamon.”

Killian glanced over at her, a glint of mischief in his eyes, and her heart swelled suddenly with reaffirmation of how much she loved him. His bangs fell over his forehead in a way some might call rakish, but when he looked at her like that -- lips quirked up in amusement at his own joke he was about to tell, unable to hide his glee at his own cleverness -- she could only call it boyish. “Sweet tooth before you were even born, eh Swan?”

Maybe not a joke then, but teasing, like they were twelve and he was pulling her tail. “I’m a wolf of taste,” she said loftily, setting her mug aside and pulling up another suitcase to go through. “Unlike some mangy curs around here.”

“Mangy cur?” Emma squeaked as she found herself pinned under him on the floor, his nose brushing against hers and heat flooding her body. His grin promised absolute filth, the hard length of his body pressed against hers deliciously, and the scent of his arousal was enough to make her dizzy. “Didn’t realize we were comparing pedigrees here, princess. Too bad you’re stuck with the mangy cur and not some stuffy purebred.”

“I happen to like the mangy cur,” she whispered, their lips close enough to tease.

“Good,” he growled. “Because he likes you too.”

She moaned into his kiss, which was far gentler than she was expecting, and he let up on her arms enough to allow her the space to embrace him. Her fingers threaded through his hair, then down his back, where she teased the patch of skin revealed by his sweater riding up. “Emma.”

He pulled back and she smiled at how he already looked wrecked. She glanced over his face, refamiliarizing herself with the little details she already had memorized but still loved looking at: the old scar on his cheek, the ginger hairs in his beard, the little freckles and the way his eyebrow seemed to jump up on its own when he got curious about something. He caught her eye with his again and one corner of his mouth ticked up, a sudden shyness in the way his eyes darted around, like he wasn’t sure she was staring at him . “What?”

She shook her head, reaching down and slipping her hands into the back pockets of his jeans, earning a surprised -- and pleased -- noise from him as she pulled him in for a quick kiss. “I just… really love you,” she said when they parted.

His cheeks reddened, but just around his cheekbones, and she loved that she knew that detail about him. If she was further back, she’d be able to see his ears turning the same color, and if she really got to him she’d be able to get his nose to match. She liked the way he could get around her, quiet and unabashedly himself, someone who couldn’t take a compliment seriously and waved off words of praise. It drove her a little crazy, but she’d made her vows to voice her feelings to him and she was going to make good on those vows.

“I love you too,” he said, his nose brushing against hers, and he leaned in to kiss her again.

The laundry could wait.

 ---------------------------------------------------------

“ There she is!” Ruby hollered, ignoring the glares from the other bar patrons.

Emma also ignored the knowing looks on both Ruby and Dorothy’s faces as she shrugged out of her coat. She knew her hair was mussed and she had beard burn on the side of her neck -- Killian had a particular fondness for this dress and the lack of coverage it provided -- and she was definitely late for their night out, but she only felt the slightest hint of guilt over that. Besides, both Ruby and Dorothy knew what it was like to be newly mated, so they could cut her a break. “Hey, thanks for saving me a seat.”

She flagged down a waitress to take her drink order and then grabbed a handful of peanuts. “So… how’s it going?” Ruby asked in a sing-song.

“Babe.” Dorothy elbowed her.

“What? She’s got sex hair and she reeks of it. If that’s her excuse, she’d better dish.”

Emma rolled her eyes, cracking open a shell. “We didn’t have sex, thank you, he just… made it hard to leave.”

“Oh I’ll bet something was hard.”

“Ruby.”

The waitress arrived with Emma’s drink and they ordered one of those mixed appetizers platters to share, as well as another round of drinks. Emma gulped half of her drink after the waitress left again before saying, “I won’t kiss and tell.”

As Ruby made a face, Dorothy reached for her own peanuts. “Some of us appreciate that.”

Emma downed the rest of her gin and tonic; she hadn’t really taken the time to appreciate it, and seeing as how this was a wolf bar the drinks were made to match their metabolisms, but this was the first time she was getting to hang out with her friends since her wedding and she wanted to have fun. Tipsy, ridiculous fun, with no husbands and no responsibilities. Girl time. Catch-up time.

Only, she realized as the conversation started to actually move towards catching up on each other’s lives, she just had stories about Killian.

“Okay, I forbid you to talk about your husband for thirty seconds,” Ruby said, pointing a french fry at her for emphasis. The appetizers had been replaced by entrees, and Emma rolled her eyes as she took an enormous bite of her burger. Fine, she’d just chew instead. “You have to have been doing something other than banging each other silly or going to work.”

Emma took her time with her food, drawing out Ruby’s challenge and taking some small joy in the agitated tick in her friend’s eyebrow. “Well it’s not like you don’t know what I do for work,” she said finally, reaching for the ketchup. “And we’re in a post-holiday lull, so it’s gonna be a bit before things get interesting.”

“One of us has got to get a different job,” Ruby declared, while her mate rolled her eyes indulgently.

Emma didn’t bother to respond, instead flagging down the waitress for another G & T. There was definitely a happy buzz going on under her skin and she wanted it to continue; the burger would only dull the effects before too long.

“Bitch on the prowl, ten o’clock,” Dorothy said suddenly, looking towards the door.

Emma and Ruby turned to look, with what felt like most of the bar’s patrons and staff following their lead. A woman she didn’t recognize was taking off her coat, revealing a dress that would send normal humans rushing to her side in an instant; here, it only added to the allure of her scent. She was obviously in heat, unattached, and looking to rectify the situation.

Already two men were walking towards her, jostling one another to make her acquaintance first; Emma just looked back to her tablemates with a look of resignation. “They’re not wasting any time,” she said.

“Neither is she; she must be the first one of the season,” Dorothy said, watching the situation near the door with mild interest.

“Just glad it isn’t me this time.”

“If there wasn’t any concern about like, us not being turned into a science freak show, I would absolutely watch our version of a trash dating show.”

“Babe, we have too many seasons of Love Island on the to-watch list as it is,” Ruby said.

“Correction, we don’t have enough seasons of Love Island on the to-watch list.”

Emma glanced back at the display happening on the other side of the bar, letting the sound of her friends teasing each other blend into the rest of the noise. This woman was definitely taking no prisoners, making eye contact with one of the men while her hand rested almost possessively on the arm of the other, her lips spread into a wide smile. Hell, she was charmed by this kind of display, especially when the woman demurely glanced at the second man under her lashes for a moment. Maybe Dorothy was right about a dating show… She watched as the woman laughed at something one of the men said, throwing her head back to give everyone a good look -- and smell -- at her neck, and Emma found herself dazedly wondering when she might be able to slip away back home and ravish her husband.

“Oh no, we’ve lost her.”

“Pheromones side effect, tragic really.”

She blinked back to attention. “What?”

Ruby looked annoyed, but Dorothy at least seemed sympathetic. “She’s still in the honeymoon phase, babe, it’s gonna be a while before everything settles down. The coming season doesn’t help.”

“Okay, you can stop talking about me like I’m not here,” Emma snapped. Her drink had been refreshed without her notice and she downed it. “I get it, I’m sorry, I’ll shut up about Killian and whatever.”

Ruby started to respond, but Dorothy silenced her with a look. Whatever silent argument they had, Ruby lost and she huffed as she went back to her meal. The reaction stung -- it’s not like Emma hadn’t sat through hours of Ruby pining and then gushing over her own mate, she could stand being the recipient for a while -- but Emma felt it wasn’t worth it to argue and ruin the evening by just turning it into a fight.

Eventually, they started talking again, Ruby breaking first with some pack gossip. The night never got to the raucous levels any of them might have hoped it could get to, but was overall a nice time and Emma even forgot about getting her feelings hurt. It felt good to get out of the house for a while with friends -- but when someone wolf-whistled as the woman in heat from earlier waltzed out with an entirely different man clutched possessively at her side, Emma thought it might be even better to get back home to her mate.

Even short periods of absence seemed to make the heart grow fonder.

 --------------------------------------------

As the new year rolled through to its second month, Emma and Killian quietly celebrated the one-year anniversary of their meeting, marveling at how much had changed in just a year. Killian noticed that Emma seemed to greet each day with increasing wariness, and his own awareness of the mating season coming into bloom turned into some kind of insatiable itch under his skin.

He’d never participated in mating season before meeting Emma. He’d been soured from pursuing any sort of relationship after the disastrous affair with Milah, and even when he’d been half underwater with alcohol he’d decided he’d never again get snared by any she-wolf’s trap. And to his embittered mind, mating season was just another trap, luring men into siring pups or trying to turn a one-night tryst into a long-term commitment. Even after he’d sobered up and straightened himself out, he’d still felt the sting of rejection in his phantom limb and did his best to stay occupied and aloof in spring.

Until Emma.

He’d known from the start that she was different, that chance encounter with her packmates. She had fire, and the way she’d immediately come at him on the offense had piqued his interest immediately. Then the wind had shifted and he’d immediately known what the source of the problem with her packmates had been, the full-blown scent of a bitch in heat burrowing down to awaken his most basic instincts. He’d done his best to remain a gentleman and let her walk away, as she’d clearly had no interest in acting on her own hormones, and once her scent faded on the wind he’d walked away as fast as he could without rousing anyone’s suspicion. He’d thought that was the end of it, until a chance meeting at a bar led to a delightful night of conversation and drinks…

And the most wonderful, passionate woman he’d ever had the pleasure to offer himself up to the next day.

Poor love had been so miserable when he’d come to see if his magical hangover remedy worked for her that he’d hardly reacted to the overwhelming bouquet of Emma in heat. He’d acted immediately to try and rectify the errors in her spice cabinet, mixing his potion and letting her recover. And as he tidied up the mess he’d made, it became increasingly hard (in many senses of the phrase) to ignore the fact that he was absolutely surrounded by pheromones and the obvious lingering scent of everything she’d done to relieve herself of the ache over the last several days. And when she’d emerged from her blanket nest again and stood there with only a shirt and her knickers and legs that went on for miles and giving him every last chance to run before they’d do something they’d regret?

He’d never wanted someone more in his entire life, mating season or not.

It wasn’t long after he returned home, he realized that long weekend in her bed (and her shower and her kitchen… and one particularly enjoyable occasion with her back pressed to the window and the lights in the living room turned off to keep the outside world in the dark to their activities) would never be enough for him. Liam accused him of moping, his friends thought he needed to get out and meet someone new to get Emma out of his system.

Looking up now, watching her enter the room shyly and holding out a simple padded envelope, he knew just as well now as he’d known then: he could never get her out of his system, even if he tried.

“What’s this, love?” he asked, accepting the envelope from her as she settled in the crook of his arm.

“Early valentine’s present,” she said simply.

They had a reservation at a restaurant that day, so he was a little confused as to why she didn’t want to simply wait until then. “Any particular reason why this is an early gift?”

Her scent changed, a little surge of arousal, and amusement laced her voice, “I kind of figured it was safer to give these to you in private.”

Well now he was intrigued. “Very well then, thank you and I accept.”

Reaching into the envelope, he felt photos -- a stack of actual printed, glossy photographs. He glanced down at his wife -- fuck, he’d never be over that, his wife -- and watched her chew her bottom lip nervously as he pulled the photos out. 

Each photo featured Emma in some way, posed and primping and perfect in all her glory. These weren’t amateur photos by any means, and even her hair and make-up looked like someone else had done the job -- not that Emma did poorly at her own appearance, but she wasn’t one to add such accentuation to her eyes to give them that smoky effect. Killian swallowed hard as he went through each photo, his heart thumping especially loud in his ears: Emma looking directly at the camera in some sort of modernized glamour shot; Emma from behind, shot from the waist up, looking coyly over her shoulder as she slipped a shirt -- was that one of his? -- down her arms to expose her back beneath a wave of blond curls; Emma laid out on dark satin, her hair spilled around her like a halo, wearing what was definitely one of his button-downs and nothing else from the way she gripped it closed. “Emma, how did you--” his throat felt nearly as tight as his pants as he paused at the next photo, her eyes downcast as she lay on her stomach, the curve of her breast visible in the opening of his shirt.

“I am people who know people,” she said simply.

On and on it went, all of them sensual or titillating without pushing the envelope enough to qualify as lewd, until the last one: she reclined on her side, propped up on her elbow, on a pelt that matched her own. Completely bare, her back faced the camera, her hair spilling down her shoulders as she looked to the side, not quite looking over her shoulder but enough to give the viewer a look at her demure profile in an otherwise completely shameless photograph.

“Jesus Christ, Emma…”

She rested her head against his shoulder, by all appearances merely a content wife who was pleased her husband liked her gift, rather than the mischievous seductress she truly was. Minx. “You like them?” she asked.

“Very much. And may I add, excellent call on a private viewing,” he murmured, nosing her hair. “Had anyone else even glimpsed these, I would have had to rip their throats out with my teeth.”

She hummed and he grinned as her scent flared. “The whole murderous, possessive alpha male thing shouldn’t be such a turn on,” she commented, and squeaked as he hauled her up in his lap.

Placing the photos on her lap, he tapped the last one with one finger. “This one should be blown up and professionally framed, I might hang it up in my office. Your arse is a work of art, love.”

“It is,” Emma agreed, “but wouldn’t that go against the whole ‘if anyone else saw these I’d kill them in cold blood’ thing?”

He tweaked her nose; she really was a terrible mimic of his accent. She always made him sound like a Mancunian somehow. “I didn’t say it had to be the main office, and while I admit that intimidating any potential contractors to a better profit turnover would be better, I can’t say I’d be able to get much work done with such a distraction.”

“And it being in your home office would do any better?”

“Well,” Killian said, drawling on the l’s, “for one thing, I wouldn’t have to travel far to take care of any, ah, problems that might arise from a viewing.” Emma snorted, no doubt feeling exactly the sort of problem he spoke of pressed against her bottom. “Though why would I need to look at this if I have the real thing waiting for me?”

“Who says I’ll be laying in wait for you?” she asked, poking his chest. “If our history says anything, I’m the one who pounces on you the moment you walk through the door.”

“Or sooner.”

“Or sooner,” she said. Looping her arms around his neck, she tilted her head. “You really like them?”

He opened his mouth, prepared to remind her that he’d already answered that, but then he noticed the slight furrow of her brow, the nearly invisible downturn of her lips, her wide eyes flicking between his as she tried to read his expression. Killian softened, in several ways, remembering how difficult she found it to be vulnerable; he suspected the act of posing and taking the photographs had been easy -- Emma was a beautiful, confident woman and she knew it -- but now came the hard part: seeking approval. “I love them,” he told her seriously, tightening his hold around her. “A pale substitute for the real thing, but this on my desk,” he flitted through the photos to the glamor shot, “will remind me of the gorgeous woman I have waiting for me at home. And get me through the long , hard days when we don’t see one another.”

She gave him an overly patient look at where he’d emphasized his speech. He leaned down and kissed away the wrinkle between her brows, breathing her in. “I don’t know what I ever did to deserve someone such as you, my darling, but I’m grateful every day to whatever thread of fate drew us together.”

Her breath hitched and her arms tightened around him. She shifted, tilting her head up to kiss him; the intensity of it nearly overwhelmed him, telling him without words how much she loved him and appreciated what he’d said. He felt her fingers in his hair, grazing the sides of his face and neck, her lips moving against his with a hunger he recognized well. “Let’s move these,” he rasped, doing his best not to just throw the pictures all over the floor, “before we make a mess of them.”

Killian gladly let Emma take control then, pushing him flat on his back on the couch and straddling him. “Show me what you really think,” she said, and whipped her sweater over her head, the offending garment falling almost protectively over the stack of photographs on the floor.

 ------------------------------------------------------

The dream started the way it always did: she was sixteen again and her body wasn’t cooperating as she tried to climb the height to the challenge grounds. Most of this was pulled from memory, the sounds of her mother and Regina fighting, the bitter cold, the tang of blood on the wind, but while the stones under her were covered in ice and snow, she’d been able to climb with only a little trouble. She’d been more worried about what she’d find than making sure her feet were going in the right place.

In the dream, though, it was like moving through molasses. Images came in flashes -- her mother lunging and scoring a blow on Regina’s side, Regina’s snarl and the moonlight glinting off the ceremonial silver knives, her father bleeding to death on the ground. Her voice stuck in her throat as she tried to scream for help, like her mouth was sewn shut.

She was helpless to stop what was happening; she always had been, and even in a dream she couldn’t change the reality that her parents had been murdered in front of her.

But for the first time she was able to get to the top, only to find Regina fighting Killian instead of Snow. He had no knife, no weapon at all, swinging wildly with his fist and kicking where he could, but Regina seemed to have the upper hand as she dodged his every move. It looked like she was completely fine with letting him tire himself out first before she had to do anything; Emma tried to scream, tried to get them to stop -- why would Killian be fighting Regina? -- but her mouth wouldn’t work.

Killian lunged and Regina dodged with ease, moving on the offense for the first time as she slammed her elbow into his back. He fell with a cry and suddenly a rifle was in her hands. A crack sounded in the frozen night and then Killian lay still on the ground.

Her body moved, freed from whatever had trapped her in place. Regina was gone, and Emma flung herself at her mate’s form. He lay sprawled on his stomach, a dark, wet patch spreading across his back in the same place where he’d been shot last fall. She packed snow against the wound, an animal cry ripping from her throat in a desperate plea for help. She turned him over, trying to see if he was conscious, but he was white as death and as cold as if he’d lain there for hours instead of moments --

Emma woke, a scream stuck in her mouth as she fought to get the blankets that were tangled around her and constricting her movements off. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she tumbled to the floor; the solid impact shook off the confusion between dreams and reality, but it couldn’t get the image of Killian bleeding out in the snow out of her mind. She curled in on herself as her mind blended it with the same sight of her parents that she’d relived over and over again for more than a decade, her chest aching as she tried to stifle her sobs.

It was late, but she hadn’t gone to bed as Killian had still been at work. She’d dozed off on the couch, something she hadn’t done in a long time—in the last few months, the combination of Alice’s crystal magic and the ever-present scent and feel of their mating bond in the bedroom had helped ease both of their night terrors. Their den represented safety and security, giving them peace of mind to rest easily.

She hadn’t meant to fall asleep.

Emma took deep breaths, trying to calm down. She reached for where she’d left her phone, using the hem of her shirt to scrub her face dry with her other hand, and checked to see if there were any messages. A few warm tears leaked out still, even as she checked the time and noted that Killian had texted not long ago to let her know he was on his way home.

As if on cue, the sound of keys in the hall reached her ears, and a moment later they scratched at the lock and then the door opened. “Sorry I’m so late, darling, I—what happened?”

He was at her side in an instant, gathering her into his arms. She lay her head against his shoulder gratefully. “Bad dreams, it’s nothing.”

“Sweetling, the fear-scent hit me full in the face when I came in, it’s not nothing.”

His heartbeat under her ear soothed her, some of the lingering tension in her shoulders easing with the steady thrumming. Her arms went around him and his hold tightened, just a little, as if he could protect her from her own demons just by holding on tight.

She wished he could.

“Bad dreams,” she said again, clearing her throat after her voice came out thick. “A lot of the same, mixed up together in a shitty new brain cocktail I didn’t order.”

He knew about the recurring dream with her parents, and the newer ones from the incident in the fall, so it wouldn’t be hard for him to put together what she meant. He kissed the side of her head. “I’m sorry, darling. Why didn’t you just go to bed?”

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep out here. I was waiting for you to get home and just nodded off.” Her book, forgotten until now, lay face-down on the floor, pages bunched up and wrinkled now from when it had fallen from her lap in sleep. “If I’d known you were staying that late I would have just gone to bed.”

Killian sighed. “I’m sorry. I was working on a contract and needed feedback from the overseas partner; it’s morning in Singapore so I knew I could get prompt replies. I should have said something earlier.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“No, but I still feel terrible.” He kissed her again and stood, bringing her up with him. “Come on, let’s have a nightcap and you can tell me how to make it better.”

She smiled wanly. “I just need you. That’s all I need to make it better.”

Emma allowed him to lead her to the kitchen. “You have me, Swan, you know that. You’ll always have me.”

 -------------------------------------------------------

She woke slowly to the gentle, teasing press of lips against her own. There was a murmur in the back of her mind that sounded like ‘ wake up, darling ’ and she had the bewildering sensation of being in two places at once before a finger brushed against her neck and arousal surged through her body. Instantly she felt more alert, kissing Killian back with newly awakened vigor, and he groaned as she pushed him back, reversing their positions so she lay atop him. “Cheater,” she accused, only allowing them a moment to breathe before coming together again. 

He stroked her mate-mark once more and the swell of arousal almost hurt; she clenched her thighs together, trying to ease the ache that lay between them, but Killian’s hand moved down, coaxing them apart to tease his fingers between her folds. “So wet for me,” he murmured.

“Yeah, I wonder why,” she said, biting her lip at the feel of his fingers on her flesh, the warmth pulsing through her body, the sparks of pleasure with every stroke. He ducked down, pressing his lips against her neck and she whimpered at the touch, feeling like she was melting into putty in his arms. “ Tease .”

“I’m a cheater, a tease,” he murmured against her skin, punctuating each word with another kiss. “What’s next? Scoundrel ?”

She cried out as his fingers thrust home, filling her with that delicious stretch she craved. She could feel him moving his fingers inside, teasing her further, and she didn’t know how she wasn’t just soaking his hand with how turned on she was right then. With each thrust of his fingers, he seemed to lift her up and it took her far too long to realize it was a combination of his own urging and her unconscious compliance as she rose up above him. She threw one leg over his waist and felt the head of his cock bump against her thigh; Killian withdrew his fingers and she looked down to watch him rub her juices off his fingers onto his cock as he took it in hand, quickly positioning himself in place for her to sink down on top of him. "Oh fuck me," he moaned as she began to move, her lips finding his mate-mark.

His fingers dug into her hip as she rode him, skin slapping as she chased her pleasure. The combination of their teasing each other’s mate-marks was driving her nearly insane with lust -- she barely noticed when she peaked, the need for more clawing its way through her veins. Killian protested when she lifted herself off him, but he seemed to pick up on the general plan when she turned and got on her hands and knees.

She gasped, sharp and shallow as he pushed in again, her hand grabbing a fistful of blanket for purchase. He felt so much bigger this way— always had since the way he’d taken her that first time. "If we're going to do this like animals, might as well look the part,” he’d said then, and she certainly felt like an animal now as she pushed back onto him in earnest, back arching and throat rough as she keened, pleading for more.

“Greedy girl,” Killian panted through grit teeth, his hips slamming against hers as she cried out. “Drenching my cock, begging for it.”

“ You woke me up,” she retorted, gasping again as he hit a good spot. “There--do that again, fuck .” His hand found her hip again, nails stinging into her skin just enough to pull a groan out of her. Again, he snapped his hips forward, but it’s less frenzied than before, sharper, calculated, and the breath that punched out of her lungs at the next thrust felt laced with fire. She turned to look at him over her shoulder, felt her heart stutter at the way his mark stood out dark against the morning light.

She slipped against the sheet, nearly buckling, but his hand was there before she could, sliding up the length of her torso to curl his fingers around her shoulder. Too-fast, she found herself surrounded by him, his weight half-draped on top of her as he pulled her flush against him and oh, oh . Fuck tumbled out of her again as she twisted to claim a rough kiss. Distracted, his hips slowed at the contact, but she pushed back again with a roll of her hips.

The hand on her shoulder urged her down, his weight shifting off her back as he reared back and her head pressed against the mattress. The angle was just right, a keen tearing from her throat as he resumed speed, driving into her hard and fast and -- “ Fuck, Killian! ”

His hand slipped under her, between her legs, found their way to her overstimulated clit and teased, drawing circles around it and pressing--

Killian’s phone started to vibrate on the nightstand. Emma felt her orgasm slip beyond reach for the moment, her concentration broken, and she groaned in frustration. She didn’t even know what time it was, but it had to be too early for anything but an emergency. “Killian, you should see who that was,” she mumbled, her head shifting against the mattress as he pounded into her.

Her husband snarled and that sent a little thrill down her spine, reigniting what had been lost. “Whoever it is should fucking know better than to call when I’m balls deep in my wife.”

She had no idea how to articulate how absurd that was, but he moved his hand again and squeezed her breast, leaving wet streaks of her own arousal along her skin and her core clenched around him in anticipation. He exhaled sharply, another little growl escaping him, and she pushed back against him, meeting him thrust for thrust. She felt his fingers move along her skin, dancing up her back and nails scratching just enough to leave a trail of goosebumps in their wake, until they found her mate-mark once more and started tracing around it, lightly circling, pressing just enough--

She saw stars. Burst of color behind squeezed eyelids and an impossible wave of pleasure crashing through her, her legs feeling numb and buckling under her as he rode her through her orgasm until she heard a grunt signaling his own. She slid weakly down onto her stomach, her skin still tingling and her core still shuddering, dragging air into her lungs as fast as she could to try and calm her racing heart. She felt the bed shift behind her, heard Killian’s heavy breathing, then felt him settle between her legs. Before she could fully understand what was happening, she felt his nose brush the sensitive seam of her ass, and then dip lower as his tongue found her dripping, abused, and still fucking aroused cunt. “ Jesus --”

Emma tried to push herself up on her elbows, tried to army-crawl up the bed and away from her insatiable husband’s questing tongue, but he satisfied himself with only a few laps before pulling away. She twisted, flushed and glaring at the smug grin on his face. “Who’s greedy now?” she asked.

“I do love the taste of us together,” he admitted, righting himself and settling back on the pillows.

She fought the urge to roll her eyes and summoned all of her strength to get up and go clean herself. Wobbly as it was, she managed the trip to the bathroom and even brought him a washcloth to clean himself up before giving her weary legs a rest and laying next to him. The heady feeling of arousal still burned inside, though more like a smoldering ember pile than the full-on inferno he’d worked her into before, but she pushed it away; she wasn’t in heat yet and her body had limits.

For now.

“So what was that for?” Emma asked.

“Do I need a reason to wake my wife and lavish her with my attentions?” She poked him in the ribs, a particularly ticklish spot, and he squirmed. “Cut it out,” Killian said, giggling. “Your smell woke me.”

She raised an eyebrow. “My smell?” she asked, her voice flat. “You know, from anyone else those might be fighting words.”

He took her hand in his, bringing it to his lips. “And far be it from me to challenge you, darling. No, I believe it may be close to time, your scent has… shifted somewhat.”

Emma let her head fall back with a groan. Motherfucker. Well, it was to be expected; it’s the normal time for her to go into heat, it was just… the worst. Though, having a mate would make it exponentially easier than previous years; she had that to look forward to, at least. She just hated being completely ruled by her hormones, hated having so little control over her own body. And of course Killian would be the first to pick up on it, of course he’d know her so well that he’d pick up on even the slightest change in her scent. Idly, she wondered if he could tell because he’d smelled her in full-blown heat before, but in truth she believed he’d know any changes in her body and her scent almost before she did.

Puts the kibosh on any cutesy surprise things whenever we get around to having pups , she thought wryly.

“Judging by your enthusiastic response, you’re still unhappy about the prospect,” Killian remarked.

She sighed. “It’s not that. I love nothing more than using you as my personal sex toy, I just… hate everything else about it.”

“We could try a last-minute honeymoon,” he suggested. “We did talk about going somewhere this spring.”

“It’ll be wicked expensive, not to mention both of our bosses would kill us for leaving so last minute. And don’t even try to tell me Liam would be understanding, he’d find something to harp at you about.”

“Technically I’m my own boss.”

“Yes, but what captain leaves the helm to go fuck his wife silly for a week?”

His teeth flash in a grin that sends a shiver down her spine. “I’m sure plenty do, particularly when the captain’s wife is as beautiful and alluring as you. And I do have minions to keep things running, you know I don’t do everything right?”

“You have to stop calling your officers ‘minions’.”

“I pay their salaries, I can call them what I like. Besides, which is less of a mouthful, Chief Operating Officer or minion?”

“Coming from the man who takes an hour to tell a five minute story.”

His grin widened. “One of the many charms you love about me.” She rolled her eyes and the bed shifted as Killian reached for his phone, which pinged a reminder that he had a missed call and a voicemail. “Though I could have reason for it, seeing as how one of them called at a most inopportune time.”

Emma worried her lip between her teeth as he listened to the message, the tinny voice reaching her ears perfectly as questions even she knew could have waited a few hours were relayed. If he was right, and it was reasonable to assume he was, then it would be easier to just combine the honeymoon and her week in heat. It was extremely annoying that there wasn’t any way to really tell when her body would go into heat, outside of paying attention to signs like any subtle changes in scent, and they couldn’t have planned this ages in advance. The thought of paying all the last minute booking fees made her skin crawl, but she also knew he wouldn’t suggest such a thing if it wasn’t feasible.

Marrying up a couple of tax brackets was going to take a lot of getting used to.

Killian tossed his phone back on the bedside table, muttering darkly to himself, and she settled against him again. “How about this,” she started, “we take today to make sure a quick getaway isn’t going to be a problem, and then go in a couple of weeks? I don’t think it’s going to happen in the next few days and we need some time to get our shit together.”

“Eloquent as always, Swan,” he said. “And the full moon is next week, so we should schedule around that as well.”

Remembering that gave her another sense of relief: for some reason, it wasn’t common for their kind to go into heat the week of the full moon. Some did, but it was extremely rare, and always led to complications with the litter. She thought it might have something to do with how her monthly shifting stopped when she’d been pregnant before, nature realizing that changing forms while pregnant wasn’t good for the mother or the fetus, but it wasn’t like there was anyone she could ask about that. Again, something else that the more scientific-minded of their community were studying, but it was difficult.

And it wasn’t like there was The Scientific Werewolf Monthly to publish any of that research.

Maybe there should be.

“Well, that settles that,” she said, her mood buoyed by the lunar calendar. “We’ll go in a couple of weeks. Plunk me on a beach somewhere that’s not Boston in winter and I’ll be set.”

Killian’s expression was a thrilling mix of joy and sin. “Then I’d better make sure it’s a private beach, because I have no plans of letting you wear anything more than a bikini the whole time we’re gone,” he said, shifting to loom over her as he spoke, the last words breathed against her lips before he caught hers up in another kiss.

 ----------------------------------------------------

The wave of pleasure that had been building inside finally crashed over her, sending ripples up to the top of her head and down to the tips of her toes. She sighed, sated for the time being and pushed away the latest of her spent toys, reclining back on the silk maroon sheets to watch as he took his leave from her bed. They all knew the drill, the men lurking in wait for her summons; she hated for them to linger, but she did indulge in the view as they stumbled away from her room.

For now, though, Regina was tired. That was the third one today, and it was barely noon on the first morning of her heat. She rolled her head on her neck, as much as she was able, joints cracking and muscles stretching. She wasn’t a young pup anymore, as difficult as it was to admit some days, so while being ravished three times by three different, handsome young things in one morning certainly sounded like an ideal way to spend one’s time, it was proving to take a toll on her.

She didn’t like to think too much about what that would mean.

She didn’t care for the reminders, the lines at the corners of her eyes getting a little deeper if she looked too long, the silver strands she kept carefully colored, and now her body tiring a little sooner than it had the year before.

Any slip might give rise to rumors, and rumors often lead to those same men lurking downstairs foolish ideas about power.

No, for now she would rest a bit, take lunch, and assess what else she could do to keep her hand on their leashes until just the right moment.

Her phone rang midway through lunch. Annoyed, Regina answered in her usual, clipped way. “This had better be important.”

- She’s leaving town for a week, her and that British wolf of hers. My sources say it’s probably their honeymoon, but we have to remember the season. If she comes back pupped-- -

“I can make my own conclusions, thank you Sidney,” she snapped, her mood darkening. “Keep tabs on them if you can, and the Nolans. We may have to move faster than anticipated.”

She hung up before he could agree to anything -- it didn’t matter, he didn’t have to agree. He just had to follow orders.

She sat still for a moment, staring at her plate, then moved suddenly, throwing her tablet against the wall. The news that Emma Swan, previous heir apparent to the pack she now ruled, had taken another mate after all the work she’d done to destroy that last relationship had sent her into a rage that kept her people on their toes for weeks. She didn’t need any reason to allow support of any kind for that little bitch to rise, and a newly mated pair with a fresh litter on the way would definitely give reason for people to remember and feel sympathy for the girl. To start rumors or petitions to restore her place.

To revolt.

She’d put in too much work expanding, improving, and keeping her pack in line to let the memory of the old alphas resurface.

Snarling, Regina got to her feet. Rage mixed with arousal, the need to take control of something overpowering anything else, and she pressed the intercom that would summon another one of her playthings to the bedroom.

She hoped he had stamina, though she didn’t quite care if she ended up breaking him in the end. He was easily replaced, just as all the others were.

She was in control here. Not them. Not any of the hotheads she dealt with on a regular basis.

And never, never Emma Swan.

[kmomof4]

Do you know of any Captain Swan fics were Liam is alive? I just thought I'd ask since I've been looking for them, and i love big brother Liam stories. Thanks in advance!

Boy do I!!!! I love big brother Liam too and while I would say that in most CS fics Liam is gone, there are several where he is very much alive and stays that way. These are just a few that I can think of off the top of my head.

If you’ll forgive a bit of shameless self promotion, I personally have three fics where Liam is alive and well.

In my State of Emergency universe, Liam plays a major role in the third fic, State of Emergency: Code White.

Make Me Look Good features big brother Liam hosting Killian and Emma over the Christmas holidays.

And finally,

Time and Again, my first MC, Killian and Liam are in business together.

And now to other fics that feature alive Liam!

The first fic that I’ll always think of when I think of big brother Liam is Old Habits Die Hard by @lenfaz. Canon divergent in which Liam was alive all those years on Neverland, but escapes to the EF just as Regina casts the curse. One of my all time favorite fics! As a matter of fact, Liam appears in a lot of her fics.

The Reason by @xemmaloveskillianx where Liam, Snowing, and Emma welcome Killian to the empty apartment in their building.

Alii Dimidium Lunam by @artistic-writer is a werewolf fic that features Liam.

@seriouslyhooked has several fics that feature Liam. Hope Springs, Emma and Killian meet after Ruby marries Liam while on vacation. Lost Souls and Reveries her @cssns 2018 fic (that she’s writing a sequel for for this years event!), and two currently posting fics, Feels Like This and When We Collide. She has more, but these were the ones I thought of first.

The Perils of Firemen and the Food Network series by @shireness-says. Roommates Emma and Elsa plus the Jones brothers.

We Own Tonight by @totheendoftheworldortime, in which CS and Liam are dropped into the Frozen storyline.

And the last that immediately came to mind was @profdanglaisstuff very recent series inspired by a discord chat, Modern Misthaven. Absolutely HYSTERICAL but seriously tugs on the heart strings too.

As an aside, I don’t know if this would be up your alley or not, by @totheendoftheworldortime has a polyamory series, The Unlocked Series, featuring the Jones brothers in a romantic relationship with Emma. VERY hot, VERY smutty, but no incest between Liam and Killian. Mischief Reimagined features the trio in the Harry Potter universe.

Thanks for the ask nonnie! I hope you enjoy these as much as I have!

[wistfulcynic]

Happy Holidays! I'm dropping into some of my fave creator's ask boxes and encouraging them to Spread the Cheer by Sharing What You Created This Year! Before a new year starts, take some time to reflect on the things you wrote or created to bless the fandom this past year. Remind us all of the awesomeness you put out there in 2019, and feel free to tease us with things to come in 2020! Then pass this along to your faves, so they can share in the fun!

Aaah! Thank you anon(s)! ❤️❤️❤️

2019 is my first full year of fic-ing, and according to AO3 I have written nearly three hundred and sixty-six thousand words, which considering that I was always the kid who submitted nine and one third pages for a ten page essay is kind of astounding. 

I had three fics begun in 2018 that carried on to this year, the first is Finding the Altar, my first attempt at the secret dating trope, mostly written last November but I wrote the epilogue for the 2019 January Joy. The second carry-over is Another Brick in the Wall, begun exactly a year ago and finished a few months into the year. It is the high school AU that I never meant to write but that ended up taking over my life, still one of my favourite fics because of how much I enjoyed writing it. Finally there’s also Both Are Infinite, which was started last September and is still unfinished. I am SO sorry for that, but I promise it will be finished. It is not abandoned!!

For things started in 2019 we have: 

The Key, an angsty, smutty one-shot written for January Joy

Their Way By Moonlight, the love of my life and my number one priority for 2020. It’s a 3B canon divergence in which Emma and Killian are soulmates who can share dreams, which leads to him coming for her and restoring her memories in New York in a very different way than in canon. There’s also a different curse on Storybrooke and a very different development for Emma and Killian’s relationship, along with loads of Captain Cobra and cursed Snowing, and an arc for Regina (including a partnership between her and Killian) that I really love.  

Honeysuckle, the purest thing I’ve ever written. Precious cinnamon roll Librarian Killian, and single-mother Emma who gets caught in a precarious situation until he comes to her rescue. Inspired by @shireness-says

Three Non-Blondes, secret-dating attempt number two. Very silly, but fun, with maybe my favourite version of Mary Margaret. 

The Depths of Love, another 3B divergence with no second curse. Emma trying to work out her feelings and Killian trying to protect himself from heartbreak. Also my very first collaboration with @thisonesatellite and honestly I’m not sure this story would exist without her. 

The smutty trio of Schadenfreude parts One and Two, and Steak and Something on the Side.   Voyeur Neal and Asshole Walsh. 

Osaka-shi Serenade, the most personal thing I’ve written. Based on how my husband and I met when we were teaching English in Japan. Still unfinished, but again, *will* be!

Two Sunday Mornings, a pair of angsty ficlets from each of their POVs, plus Brothers Jones. 

One More Kiss, a Lieutenant Duckling short fic that I didn’t love when I wrote it but has really grown on me, to the point where I might (*might*) expand it at some point. Quite angsty, but happy at the end. 

The Great Grammar Caper, a very very VERY silly future fic in which Deputy Jones is the hero we need but his efforts are foiled by a devious Granny. 

Rainbound, a take on the snowed-in trope, only with rain.  

The Parquet Man, absolutely and without question the most fun I’ve ever had writing. The storied romance that is Captain Floor, told from the POV of Killian (by me) and Floor (by @thisonesatellite, who writes unorthodox POVs like NO ONE ELSE). 

The Very Witching Time and its follow-up The Sleep of the Sun, written for @cssns and @cspupstravaganza respectively. My very favourite verse, in which Emma is a witch and Killian cursed in the form of a dog. There is magic and an extraordinary house with a sentient garden, and creepy forest, and more magic, and Cora with an evil plot, and even more magic, and some adorable and surprising children at the end. PLUS some absolutely stunning art by @mariakov81 to accompany it ❤️❤️❤️

How Not To Flirt, based on a prompt. Emma tries to flirt with Killian but he fails entirely to see it. 

Words Unspoken, a friends-to-roommates-to-lovers story full of mutual pining and very, very poor communication. 

The Ballad of Emma and Killian, in which they are not famous when they meet, but when their careers take off they stand by each other through it all. Rockstar!Emma and actor!Killian.  

On What They Fall, my magnificent octopus. Angry, damaged Killian who can’t see how much Emma loves him. Mutual pining, angst, Captain Book brOTP, and people working through their emotions, prioritising their mental health, and coming out of hard times strong and brave enough to allow themselves to be happy. Another personal favourite. 

abandon, a birthday gift for @kmomof4. Neverland sex-pollen smut, pure and simple. Well, simple anyway. 

come sit at our feast, a Halloween fic written for @csrolereversal Halloweek. Without question the most out-there thing I’ve written, with all the OUAT characters reimagined as supernatural beings who come together every Halloween to throw themselves a hell of a party. 

Drink The Wild Air, a birthday gift for @thisonesatellite which will be finished SOON. The Captain Duckling high-seas swashbuckling adventure tale I’ve wanted to write for some time. Featuring Brothers Jones 2.0 and CASTLE STORMING. 

Drabbles, a series of short fics of all kinds, written when I need to clear my mind. 

Across The Snowy Places, a Thanksgiving tropestravaganza. Featuring secret dating, snowed-in, only one bed, heater not working, favourite author, found families, matchmaking, and drunken affection/confession. ALL THE TROPES. 

To Keep It All The Year, my Christmas gift for @katie-dub. Final chapter coming soon! This story has just flowed out of me. It features angry, broken Killian, single-mother Emma, adorable wee bab Henry, and some extraordinary Christmas magic. 

WHEW!! I think that’s all of them! I’m a bit 😮😲😳🤯 looking at this list. It’s been a less-than-great year on the whole, to be honest, but at least productive on the fanfic front!! 

Thanks for the ask, anon, and I hope you have a great Christmas and a brilliant New Year!! 

- 

[spartanguard]

top 5/bottom 5 kudos

I was tagged by the darling @searchingwardrobes! I know I did this a while ago but I’m not gonna go digging for it...so here goes again!

What are your five most popular works by kudos (in descending order)?

1. Something In The Water - 273 kudos

aka mermaid!Killian #2; soulmates AU where Emma shapeshifts into a swan and Killian is a merman. CSSNS 2018. Definitely a personal fave--and apparently for others, too.

2. A Tall Tail - 225 kudos

mermaid!Killian #1; canon-divergent from 4B wherein Killian transforms into a merman. My first major MC, and apparently still one of my most popular. (as evidenced by the fact that i’m still writing one-shots in this verse 5 years later)

3. A Rose In The Deeps Of My Heart - 224 kudos

fae!Killian! AU where Emma meets exiled fae Killian on a trip in Ireland...and learns a lot more about her family history. Just a sweet little three-parter.

4. Sick of Love - 214 kudos

another soulmate AU (for CSSNS 2019), but a bit whumpy--set in a universe where if you are separated from your soulmate for an extended period of time after last making skin contact, you get sick. and Emma and Killian take every precaution to not make skin contact with anyone. so you can probably guess what happens.

5. An Affair of Honor and of the Heart - 165 kudos

Ren Fair AU! Honestly a bit surprised it’s in the top 5, especially since it’s a one-shot. But it’s fun!

(Savage Garden is the next one...157 kudos...at least it’s well out of the bottom 5!)

What are your five least popular works by kudos (ascending order)?

5. The Dutchman Must Always Have A Captain - 25 kudos

AU where Deckhand Hook becomes captain of the Flying Dutchman (POTC version), written for @cocohook38. Transformation whump. There are tentative plans to revisit this but I don’t think I wrote them down; a fatal error.

4.  Captain Charming/OUAT Drabbles & Ficlets - 24 kudos

What it sounds like--some random old ficlets that weren’t standalones, but I stopped updating it when I got too many ficlets. (I might get back to it at some point.)

3. (Love Will See Us Through These) Dark Days - 12 kudos

Current WIP; Hunger Games AU done for CS Rewrite-A-Thon 2020. Crossing my fingers that goes up...I’m really proud of this story.

2. Drunk Dial - 11 kudos

Drunken Storybrooke shenanigans...also my first fic!! kind of bummed it’s down here.

1.  Once Upon a Time in Panem - 7 kudos

The first Hunger Games AU...not surprised it’s at the bottom.

tagging @optomisticgirl @laschatzi @let-it-raines @stubblesandwich @profdanglaisstuff

[cssns]

It's Time to Get to Know Your Mods!!

And we're back to welcome @winterbaby89 back to the mod team!!!

Name

Laura

How long have you been a part of the CS fandom?

Officially since 2016

What is your favorite part about fandom?

The camaraderie and content.

What drew you to this event?

K, and her "Strong arm" techniques ;P ... She wrangled me to help on the inaugural season and I've been here since.

Will you be participating either as a writer or artist? If so, what will you be doing?

I will be writing in Multiple capacities. I am still working on my 2018 CSSNS MC - The Fate of The Medjai, as well as writing a Phantom/Ghost OS for the event's final year.

What do you do in your "real life?"

I now work as a Accounts Payable Specialist for a global corporation, when I'm not on medical leave (too many surgeries), and a Dog Mom of 4 ornery puppers (I'll happily talk about my babies any time).

What are you most looking forward to in this event?

All of the amazing new content to come.

Hehehehehehe, Laura...

Couldn’t have done this without you!!! Love you, babe!!! Laura's new fic will close out the event on Aug 30!

[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

[winterbaby89]

The Fate of the Medjai

ALL 3 of these amazing pieces were made by @abeylin1982​ for my 2018 CSSNS fic, so please go give her all the love for these amazing pieces. And keep your eye open for Ch 4 coming soon.

[searchingwardrobes]

Of Earth and Sea: 2/9

In celebration of the one year anniversary of my first @cssns fic, I’m reposting a chapter a day until my 2019 drop date, especially since each chapter has never been posted to tumblr before. Amazing art above done by the talented @shipsxahoy.

Summary: Five years after their wedding, Emma and Killian are ready to start a family. But Emma discovers that raising a family isn't that simple when your husband is a Dunedin (half-elf) and your mother-in-law is neither dead nor alive.

Rating: T 

Tagging: @profdanglaisstuff @let-it-raines @welllpthisishappening @optomisticgirl @wellhellotragic @jennjenn615 @kday426 @mythologicalmango @thislassishooked @xhookswenchx @resident-of-storybrooke

Chapter One

Killian grunted as he swung his arm up to the next ledge. He dug his hook into the craggy rock and pulled himself over the edge. Arms trembling from the long climb, he stood at the pinnacle of stone and gazed out at the horizon. He pulled the water skin from his satchel and took a long drink. He could see the Jolly Roger moored just a few leagues out from the rocky shore. His crew, especially Smee, hadn’t liked the idea of him making this quest alone. The witch, however, had made it clear. This was his journey to take and his alone. He was glad now for it; climbing over these rocks would have been even more difficult with a companion.

The salty breeze ruffled Killian’s hair and tugged at his blouse. He breathed deeply of it, the scent calming him as it always did. And yet there was another tug on his soul. That of rich loam, green moss, and the ancient groaning of trees. He shook his head as if to fight off that half of him. One thing was for certain; he was eager to be away from this rocky terrain.

He turned away from the view of the coast to make his way down into the valley below. The rocks were loose, held together by pebbly soil. Going up it had been both an aid to his hook and a danger. Imbed his metal appendage into a crevice too loose, and he could have gone tumbling to his death. It had been slow going. Now, the loose ground beneath his feet made it a quick journey to the floor of the valley below.

As he walked along the tiny trickle that he supposed could be called a stream, the ground slowly became less rocky. Soon, the water was a true stream, tumbling merrily over smoother rocks. Then it became a lazy river that emptied into a tranquil pool. A thin waterfall streamed from the cliff above, casting a shimmery rainbow in the mist.

By this time, the sun was beginning to dip low, so Killian made camp. He found a spot near enough to the water for the ground to be softer and more comfortable, but near enough the rock wall to keep him hidden in shadows. He didn’t dare make a fire. He ate from his meager rations and then curled up upon the grass, using his satchel as a makeshift pillow.

Dawn had barely come when a rustling sound awakened Killian. He started up from a light sleep, his sword quickly drawn. Heart pounding, he gazed about to see nothing. The silence surrounding him was an oppressive thing, causing the hair on his neck to stand up.

Then suddenly, something white was swooping down, almost clipping his head. He ducked, swearing under his breath, and then blinked in shock when he lowered his arms and looked up. There, standing calmly and regally by the water’s edge was a pure white swan. It lowered its head as if in greeting and Killian rose slowly to his feet. He eased closer to the bird, a question furrowing his brow.

“Is this the sign the witch spoke of?” he asked in a whisper. It felt odd to speak at all in this still and quiet place.

The swan bent its neck slowly, its beak almost to the ground. It seemed to bow before him. Then it turned suddenly, flapped its wings, and rose into the air. It spun in a circle above Killian’s head, then dove into the stream of the waterfall.

Killian rolled his eyes. “I suppose it wants me to follow it,” he muttered sarcastically.

He re-sheathed his sword, slipped his satchel over his head, and made his way gingerly across the slippery rocks to the waterfall. He reached out with his hand tentatively, and jumped slightly when the water parted like a curtain. On the other side, he could see the swan standing patiently, as if waiting for him.

“Bloody hell,” he muttered as he stepped through, “this better not be a trap.”

Once beneath the waterfall, the swan disappeared. Killian swore again as he turned in a circle. What now? He edged closer to the smooth, rock wall behind the falls, running his hand over the slick, wet surface. He paused when he felt indentations beneath his palm. He drew closer, and sure enough, there was a carving there. The elegant neck of a swan, the etchings of feathers at its back. Killian pressed harder against the carving, and a disk of rock collapsed into the wall, light shooting around its edges. Killian squinted against the sudden bright light, backing away hesitantly from the magic. But as the spots of light cleared from his vision, he saw an open archway and beyond it a tunnel carved into the side of the mountain.

Killian stepped inside, wondering how he would see in the dark cavern, only to see a light bouncing ahead of him. When he hesitated over following it, the light seemed to become agitated, coming closer and then skittering away again. As if the light were entreating him to follow.

Killian took a deep breath, reminding himself that swans – white ones at least – were an omen of light magic, not dark. Then again, his own heart was filled with nothing but black deeds. Perhaps the light here wished to snuff out the darkness of his villainous heart?

He made his way down the tunnel, hand hovering at the hilt of his sword, his hook held aloft and ready. The tunnel suddenly curved and dipped downward, and the light he had been following suddenly enlarged and morphed once again into the beautiful white swan. It seemed to stare at him for a moment, then it turned and flapped upward, disappearing in a shower of rainbow colored light. When the bird disappeared, there before him was a simple pirate’s cutlass hanging in an alcove of rock.

Killian shook his head in confusion as he stepped close. He picked up the cutlass, weighing it in his hand and examining the hilt. He rolled his eyes and tilted his head back when he saw the language etched there.

“Elvish,” he muttered, a bitter edge to his voice.

“You found it,” said a breathy voice behind him. He knew that voice well. It’s soft, airy quality that used to soothe him as a child.

Now it sent anger pulsing through his veins.

“You?” he choked out. He had meant it to come out accusing, but instead he sounded like a hurt and betrayed child.

Tauriel came closer, steps hesitant, her hands clasped before her. Her ginger hair was covered by a hunter green cloak. Killian took a step back, wary of her intentions.

“You were the witch in that glade?”

She shook her head, pulling the cloak from her head. “No, but she wasn’t a witch. She was one of my kind. One of the few willing to help elves in my position.”

“You mean the ones neither living nor dead?” Killian spat. “Nice of her. I should have known this was about you, not me. This weapon won’t even work against the Dark One, will it?”

Tauriel remained completely serene, though her eyes became dull and sad. It was an elven trait that Killian had always found infuriating, especially since his own emotions were always so volatile.

“No to both. No, it won’t help your quest against the Dark One. And no, my son, this is not about me at all. You are floundering, Killian, and I can watch it no longer.”

“Ah, yes,” Killian quipped, gesturing with his hook, “watch. All my mother ever does, ever has done. Watch. And what exactly about the show bothers you?”

Tauriel blinked as tears formed in the corner of her eyes, “You are in pain, Killian. You have closed your heart off, wary of love, and filled it with darkness instead.”

“What worries you, mother? That I will waste away like you?” Killian is practically snarling now, his fist clenching. His mother’s form is shifting, and he knows soon she will fade away. Trapped between the living and the dead, she can only communicate with him for brief moments at a time.

“No. For thankfully, the woman you lost was not your true love.”

“How dare you!” Killian cried, his face contorting with pain. “How dare you question the depth of my love for Milah!”

“Oh, my darling,” Tauriel said, reaching her arms out towards him, but they were now so ethereal, she couldn’t touch him, “that isn’t what I mean at all. But you can love again, I have seen it.”

Killian shook his head, “Please, none of your elven prophecies. All your kind ever does is speak in riddles. I’ve no time for it, nor do I put any stock in it.”

Tauriel was only a mere shadow now. “Even so, take the cutlass, my son. The swan would not have led you to it if it weren’t meant for you.”

Killian looked down at the weapon in his hand. It wasn’t delicate enough or ornate enough to have been wrought by elven hands. And yet the words etched into it were elvish. “What does it say?”

He looked up to find his mother gone; his question unanswered.

***********************************************

Killian Jones had varying types of dreams. Like anyone, some were a bizarre mixture of sights, sounds, and thoughts. Ridiculous tumblings of his mind with no meaning. And like anyone he also had dreams that represented his deepest desires and fears. Emma figured prominently in dreams like that and had for some time.

But being a few centuries old with far too many regrets, Killian also had dreams that were simply memories. *Most of them painful, causing him to wake with a start. Then he would take in his surroundings, see Emma lying peacefully next to him, and feel his heartbeat return to normal.

This morning was one of those times, though the memory of the swan, the cutlass, and his mother was not particularly disturbing nor wrought with regrets. Nevertheless, it troubled him, and he spent several minutes watching Emma sleep. He admired the way the early light of dawn shone against her hair. He lifted a few strands, relishing the soft feel of them between his fingers. The strap of her tank top had slipped from her shoulder during the night, and he leaned forward to fix it, his hand lingering against her skin longer than necessary. He leaned forward and planted a kiss there as well. Emma sighed and shifted, but didn’t waken.

He rose quietly from the bed, grabbing a t-shirt from the hamper and slipping it over his head. He didn’t bother with his brace, a fact that still, five years into marriage, filled him with gratitude and wonder. Emma truly loved every part of him.

He walked downstairs to the kitchen and used the Keurig machine to make a quick cup of coffee. He grasped the mug in his right hand and made his way to the back porch. His eyes scanned the quiet yard. Many would have missed the figure on the edge of the property, her green and brown garments blending into the trees. But Killian had the keen eyes of a sailor.

Okay, and the keen eyes of an elf, too.

He ground his teeth, his jaw clenching as he made his way across the yard to her, the dew on the grass wetting his bare feet.

“Mother.”

“Killian.”

“Why are you here?”

“I’m always near, my son.”

Killian closed his eyes tightly. So many emotions swirled through him, it was hard to pin down exactly what he was feeling.

“I didn’t ask you to.”

Tauriel raised her hand as if to touch him, then retreated. “Now that you’ve made a home, and are no longer at sea, perhaps we can . . . get to know one another again?”

“And how is that going to work exactly? 5 minutes at a time?”

As if to confirm his words, Tauriel’s shape began to fade. As she disappeared into mist, she smiled and said, “I love you, Killian.”

When she was gone, his fist clenched around the coffee mug. For some reason, anger surged through him and he threw the ceramic as hard as he could against the nearest tree where it shattered into pieces.

“Killian?”

He turned to see Emma standing on the porch, her arms tight around her chest as she shivered barefoot in her knee-length bathrobe. As he walked towards her, he tried to give her a bright smile, and she gave him a crooked one in return.

“I never liked that mug either,” she quipped with a nod of her head towards the trees.

That got a laugh out of him as he walked up the porch steps. He enveloped her in a hug, placing a kiss against the top of her head. “Sorry, love. Tis nothing.”

“Why are you so upset with her still?” she asked, lips pressed against his collar bone. “I thought you both said what you needed to.”

Killian sighed as Emma pulled back to look into his face. His mother had shown up five years ago, right before their wedding. It had been a lot for Emma to process, finding out he was a Dunedain – half-elf. But she had taken it all in stride, including his mother who hovered between the land of the living and the dead.

“So did I, love. But I didn’t expect her to linger here.”

“She loves you,” Emma said, rubbing his arms gently up and down.

Killian gave a half-hearted smile. “I know. It’s just hard having a mother who’s . . .”

“A ghost?”

“I told you, she’s not a ghost. She’s not dead.”

Emma shook her head. “Okaaay, but she’s not really alive, either. Ghost is the easiest label.” Killian opened his mouth, and Emma lifted her hand to stop his explanation. “I know, I know. She’s immortal, but your father broke her heart, so she wasted away, blah, blah, blah. Got it.”

“Are you regretting marrying me? With my elf ears and my half-dead mother?”

Emma truly laughed as she lifted her arms to loop them around his neck. “With my life? You’re one of the most normal people I know. Even at three hundred plus and counting.”

Killian quirked a brow at her teasing. “And at least I’m not a flying monkey.”

Emma rolled her eyes and smacked him in the chest. “You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

She kissed him lightly as they both laughed. Killian then steered her towards the door back into the kitchen. They made breakfast, moving around the space together with five years of practiced ease. Then Emma went to take the first shower while Killian did the dishes.

If she noticed that he had side-stepped her question about his mother, she didn’t let on.

[captainswanbigbang]

CSRT Promo: the-corsair-and-her-quill

Today’s promoted story is All's Fair in Love and War by @the-corsair-and-her-quill! Read it on AO3!

When did you start writing this story, and what inspired you to write it? 

I started writing it for CSBB 2017, and I was really inspired by Reign, especially the first two seasons. I was also interested in exploring the arranged marriage trope.

What is it about this story that made you feel like it was worth rewriting? 

Well, I sort of abandoned it because I felt like I spent a lot of time and effort writing it, and it just did not receive much traction or support. I kinda regret some of the storyline and felt like I wanted to go back and write it differently as well. I felt like I could maintain the essence of the original fic while writing a new version of it, with some (major) changes to the character plot while the background remained more-or-less the same.

What is one detail about your story that you're almost definitely keeping? 

Do I have to pick just the one? Well, one detail that I was 100% on - and one that I really loved from the original story - was Regina's romantic life and how it affects the plot of the story and everything about King Stefan.

What is one detail about your story that you're almost definitely throwing out or changing? 

Well in the original story, Killian and Regina were illegitimate children of King Brennan and Emma was supposed to marry his heir, Prince William. But I threw that out in this version, mainly because I'm going a different direction in the relationship between Emma and Graham.

What has it been like so far to rewrite your story? What has the experience been for you? 

It's been good so far. I feel like I've learnt a lot with the past writing events, like CSBB 2018, CSLB, CSSNS etc. I feel like I have a more concrete idea for the plot because I know for sure the stuff that I want to avoid. I've read some of the negative press the original version received, and I've addressed them in the rewrite, so hopefully it works out!

What would you like readers to know about the original version if they decide they're going to read it? 

Well, one thing I'd tell is: be patient. I know it takes a long time before the Captain Swan content actually begins but I'm really proud of my set-up. But, it is unfinished/abandoned. I'm not so sure I will get back to it, esp since I'm rewriting it, and it would have very very similar endings. But if you want to get a glimpse of what I'm talking about in terms of my new version, you can take a look and see if you'll be interested in the new and improved version!

[courtorderedcake]

CSSNS Sneak Peek - Swan Song

I’m working tirelessly through my monster, with help and support from the kindest team of betas, friends, and CSSNS-mates. I can give them nothing but my love and grateful praise: They tolerate my fragmental, NNT unwording, comma addicted, run on sentence creating ass even when my head’s firmly planted in it. @shireness-says , @wingedlioness , @artistic-writer & @kmomof4 : Your overwhelming patience, cheers, and love have kept me battling this beast with the a muse so flaky she could be a croissant.  Here is a sneak peek of a collection of fairy tales, with beautiful art by @wingedlioness .

Summary: Detective Killian Jones is only living to honor his brother, lone gone in The Great War. When his lackluster work forces an assignment off the beaten path he is given a homicide case that is linked to a new jazz club, The Golden Crocodile.  There he meets the lounge singer: the mysterious, enigmatic, and tempestuous Swan... Who may or may not be a prime murder suspect. With a song, she unlocks a world of secrets, buried memories, and half truths that could lead to their happiness or their doom. 

[resident-of-storybrooke]

Talk about your current wips. (PLEASE I'M DYING)

Talk about my current WIPs??? Lol, I have a few ideas, but I don’t know when they’ll happen (nor if anyone actually wants these stories)...

So Close And Still So Far - part 3 is being worked on by the incredible @kymbersmith-90 at the moment. As soon as Kym finishes her edits, I’ll go through and post it. Hopefully, that’ll be out tomorrow!! 

It’s Amore - sooooo ummmmm, I doubt anyone (except @kmomof4) remembers, but I started my first MC back in the summer of 2018 for the first year of @cssns and um so I’m excited to announce It’s Amore is coming back this summer. I plan on writing a few chapters, so it’s ready to go once we get into the swing of the event. 

Best (Wo)man - guess what that’s about! No, I’ve had that piece for a while, it’s pretty close to done I just need to tie up some loose ends. This is a one-shot! 

Mama Said Knock You Out - I did tease this piece for K’s birthday! I only have part of ch1 done, but I’m excited about this story. Boxer!Emma and Famous!Killian sounds like a fun time to me! MC!

The Bodyguard - based on the movie (but a happy ending lol), but I am cautious if this one will ever see the light of day. Maybe! MC! 

No Name (no like I don’t have a name for this fic) - There’s a lot I’m still debating about it...all I have is that Emma and Killian work for the same company - but in different countries. One will come over and stay with the other to help them get accustomed to the new home...there’s not a lot yet, and I don’t know if that’s even a good idea lol!!! MC! 

There are a few other one-shots I have one the back burner; anyone is welcome to message me about them if they’d like!! 

ALL THE LOVE