Feeling left behind by her more successful, settled friends, Emma Swan moves to Scotland on a whim. Sure, she’s winning at Instagram, but something is still missing from her new life. Fortunately, her friends back home are on it. #FindEmmaSwanAFriend goes viral. Enter Killian Jones, reluctant columnist, who is on the hunt for his newest subject, and may just have found her. CS AU
PSA: This is not a chapter of #FindEmmaSwanAFriend, but a complementary work, Killian’s column in the May edition of Saorsa. I hope you enjoy it anyway.
Hello there. This month’s missive comes to you direct from the crowded sands of Portobello Beach, where I am currently wrestling deadlines whilst on the constant look out for opportunistic young families from West Lothian who circle like buzzards, ready to exploit any signs of weakness to depose me from the prime piece of beachfront real estate where I’ve staked my claim. It’s a tricky business, and with the mercury edging ever closer to twenty degrees centigrade, a sure sign that summer is finally on the approach.
It is a beginning, to be sure. Of near constant sunshine and a few months reprieve from beanie hats and long johns. But for some, it can also be an ending. For the not-insubstantial student population of Edinburgh, it marks the end of a gruelling exam period before they disappear back to the loving clutches of their childhood bedrooms for the summer. And for one Emma Swan, it presents the opportunity to mix with her co-workers at a succession of events designed to farewell the academic year.
Which brings us to our latest guide to making friends as a stranger in a strange land: Exploit your working relationships.
Now, since I have carelessly revealed Emma’s place of work to you previously, I should stipulate that I have, in fact, sought approval from the relevant people to tell this little tale. There were forms, signed in triplicate. It’s all very above board. Names have been changed and obscured to protect innocent and guilty alike. Mostly.
Alright, now we’ve gotten the obligatory legal nonsense out of the way, let us return to the event at hand, in fair Lugton Bogs, where we lay our scene. A rather unattractive name for the sight of perhaps Edinburgh’s premier laser tag facility, set amongst a small thicket of trees just beyond the city bypass.
Indeed, in their infinite wisdom, the heads of the School of Classics, Archaeology and History thought there would be no better way to unify their department, than to let them face off against their colleagues from the School of Social and Political Science. In the woods. With lasers.
And in the spirit of scientific inquiry, I was reluctantly brought along.
Now, in theory, laser tag is marginally less dangerous than its more colourful cousin, paintball. After all, no one is copping a pellet to the face. And there is little need to dress in unflattering human-sized condoms to protect one’s clothing from paint splatters. But those who would consider it a harmless kind of team-building exercise, have clearly never seen Emma Swan at work in faded fatigues, clutching a fake rifle.
She is, in short, a force to be reckoned with.
Over the course of two hours, I saw this woman decimate her competition, capture and hold flags, and evade enemy snipers like some sort of lithe blonde ninja. The running group certainly seemed to be paying dividends.
By the end, there remained only a single obstacle in her path, a fellow on the opposing team I later discovered had actual combat experience. We’ll call him… Grant.
Now I’m sure a lesser man would be troubled by the woodland prowess of this upstart American, but when the two hours wound to a close and the game was declared a draw, I witnessed something truly remarkable. A genial smile at the hands of our stubborn heroine. A handshake that spoke of mutual respect. And most tellingly of all, a drinks invitation to follow.
A fine lesson to all of us, I’m sure, in not tempering one’s abilities to appear more likeable to the group. To be exceptional is no bad thing. And if we are lucky enough to find someone who appreciates us for our talents, even in the most unlikely of circumstances, so much the better.
And for the rest of us, the less remarkable? The ones whose disabilities might mean they aren’t terribly suited to the handling of small arms, plastic or otherwise? Well, I’ve heard there is graciousness in defeat. And that’s not such a terrible quality in itself.
When a chance encounter with a blue-eyed mystery man on an ill-fated flight turns Emma Nolan’s life upside down, she has a choice to make: Continue with her arranged marriage to Senator Gold’s son to save her parent’s company, or turn her back on everything she’s ever worked towards for a chance at happiness.
Killian has searched all corners of the realm for
centuries looking for the magical object that will end the curse placed
on his kingdom. What he finds is a reluctant ally in the form of a fiery
Princess Emma. He quickly discovers that Emma has an agenda of her own,
and the two strike a deal that they hope will save both their kingdoms.
Rating: Teen
Other pairings: Snowing
Notes:
well, here it is! My CSBB 2017 fic! A huge thank you to my beta,@icecubelotr44 for dealing with my insanity over the past six months!
Also, a huge thank you to my artists, @couldnthandleit and @hopeandbeans for creating wonderful artwork for this fic.
Emma knew it was improper to walk away from her own engagement ball, but she just couldn’t take it anymore. The sounds of music and celebration were muted in the halls, but the quiet didn’t calm the turbulent thoughts echoing around in her head.
The whole kingdom of Misthaven may have been thrilled about the union, but she wasn’t.
Not that she had much of a choice, really.
The truth of the matter was that Misthaven was under threat of war with the Dark Kingdom. Rumplestiltskin, its ruler, had set his sights on Misthaven years ago. Once Emma had come of age he tried using an arranged marriage to take control of her parents’ lands. It wasn’t a gesture of unification, but rather a demand that she marry his son – or face a hostile takeover.
The King and Queen had outright refused.
Though Emma would have done so to ensure the safety of her kingdom, her parents knew that a marriage to the Dark One’s son would only lead to Emma’s doom. While she appreciated the fact that they wanted her to marry for love, a war was on the horizon and Emma knew she needed to act quickly. Misthaven was far from defenseless, but the Dark One was powerful. They had an army, but their men would be no use against a magic user as strong as Rumplestiltskin. The fact was, when it came to magic, her kingdom was sorely lacking in firepower.
There was a small neighboring kingdom, Oz, that was ruled by a powerful witch. Going to her for help wasn’t something that anyone would recommend, but Emma was desperate. Zelena was one of the few people alive who could hope to face off against the power of the Dark Kingdom. At least… that’s what Emma hoped.
All In A Day’s Work: Chapter 7 Sneak Peek and Photoset
“We are, but it is not like anything you have ever been involved with before,” Killian told him. “We are operatives with Securitech, a private security and detective agency, and we are on the trail of an international fugitive who has stolen a great deal of money that we want to recover for our client.”
“What do you need an actor for?”
“To find this man we have to make one of his accomplices talk and to do that we have to make him an actor in a play, only he will be the only one on the stage who does not have a script.”
“He won’t even know it’s a show,” Emma said.
Jefferson looked between the two. “You’re talking about running a con.”
“You are very perceptive.” Killian nodded.
“I did six weeks as Harold Hill in The Music Man at the Winstar Casino,” he spoke. “The thing is, cons are usually illegal.”
“Think of this as an elaborate practical joke,” Killian said.
“Exactly,” Emma agreed. “A practical joke that is sort of illegal but not entirely. We’ve been asked to do what the police can’t, and that’s to catch a man who has robbed thousands of people out of their homes, their savings, and their retirements. We’re using kidnapping and fraud to accomplish that goal. If we don’t fool the mark, and he goes to the police, we could all get arrested.”
“But it is highly unlikely that he will.” Killian made sure to add with a disapproving look to Emma.
“What’s in it for me?” Jefferson pondered.
“Fifty thousand dollars. And the role of a lifetime, an acting challenge greater than any Oscar, Emmy, or Tony award winner has ever dared or attempted.”
“Because the Oscar, Emmy, and Tony award winners don’t have to,” Jefferson argued. Having a great role was one thing, but possibly getting arrested, that was a whole other ballgame.
“But we both know that they wouldn’t because they do not have the guts or the skills, and you will because you do,” Killian said. “And this will prove it.”
Jefferson sat back and studied the man and woman sitting in front of him. What they were offering was to take down a very bad man, who had hurt so many people. He was always for bringing justice to those who deserved it. “And nobody will ever know.”
“You will,” Killian answered.
“There won’t be any reviews, no film to put on my reel,” he continued. “It won’t get me work.”
“It might from us,” Emma pointed out.
“But if I am not utterly convincing in my performance, another actor lets me down, or a set falls, or some other calamity happens that I can’t act my way out of, I could get thrown in jail.”
“Or worse,” Killian shrugged. “You could spend another night performing here.”
Jefferson met his gaze. “How big is my trailer?”
“You will not have a trailer. But you will have a mansion.”
“I’m in. I don’t think I caught your last names.”
“We are on a first name basis. Last names are cumbersome.” Killian extended out his hand.
Summary: When a chance encounter with a blue-eyed mystery man on an ill-fated flight turns Emma Nolan’s life upside down, she has a choice to make: Continue with her arranged marriage to Senator Gold’s son to save her parent’s company, or turn her back on everything she’s ever worked towards for a chance at happiness.
Milah had been the last person he’d wanted to talk to that day – or ever really. Emma had run away so quickly that he had ignored the phone the first time, wanting to go after her to make sure she was okay. But before he could knock on the door, his cell had rung again, and when he went to check it, all of the blood drained from his face and he felt weak. Seeing her name and a picture of the two of them from a happier time flash across his phone screen had immediately sobered him from the haze left by his near kiss with Emma.
Time seemed to stand still as he hesitated, caught in a storm of emotions, until the phone went silent again. The image of Milah straddling Walsh was still burned into his brain, and he felt rage bubbling over inside of him. They were done this time; he wouldn’t go back to her, not again.
So clearly I dithered over this for like more than a year. It was really hard to do in written form and this really, uh… turned more angsty and sad and Dark Ones hatefucking than intended. Like we just nosedived into the angst pool and I’m a little bit sorry about that.
Loathing rolls off of him in waves. In another time, another place, he might be the inspiration for a demon with fire in his eyes and smoke curling from his nostrils. Every breath, every sneer, every step is full of hatred towards Emma Swan.
Let him hate her. No one hates her more for this decision than she hates herself.
She couldn’t let him die, so she made him live. A shell of a man, his soul gone and replaced with a void of bloodthirst and fury.
For weeks she’s done nothing but try to bring him back. For a while, it worked. Block out the darkness, keep up the facade, let him late her, let him fear her… but now? His body remains, but now there’s nothing of Killian left. She’s watched from the shadows, practiced spells and charms and reached into the depths of her magic, but –
Nothing.
Killian Jones is gone. The Dark One is all that remains, standing at the foot of his bunk and sneering at her, poison spilling from his lips as he curses her again and again for refusing to let him die, refusing his dying wish and turning him into the very thing he spent centuries trying to destroy.
Let him hate her. He could never hate her more than she hates herself.
A/N: Take two! Sorry for the lack of a cut yesterday and the need to repost. Tumblr mobile is the devil.
For @laurnorder,
who won a fic of her choosing in my follower appreciation earlier this
summer. She requested friends to lovers with a dash of bedsharing. I may
have gotten carried away. Thanks to @lenfaz for letting me toss this at her unexpectedly and providing helpful feedback. Part 3 up in two weeks, once the Captain Swan Big Bang Fics all have their first chapters posted (go check them out)!
Summary: They’ve
been using all sorts of things to avoid what’s right in front of them.
Some off the cuff words, though, might get them on the right track.
Emma kind of wanted to kick herself as she heard the words come out of her mouth.
You’re a fucking idiot, Swan. Breaking it off with one guy and propositioning your best friend all in one night. Nice. Way to go.
She watched Killian war with himself, his internal debate clear on his face as he reached out and tucked her hair behind her ear, his thumb dragging along her jaw as he did. She searched his eyes, trying to make sense of what he was thinking, surprised that he even seemed to be considering her idiotic request.
In any other circumstance with him, this wouldn’t be a big deal. Like he said, it wasn’t anything they hadn’t done before. She knew how it would go. He’d kiss her, they would maybe take it a little further, then tomorrow everything would go back to normal. It was funny how that thought made her stomach roil. Normal would be good, right? Right.
As he waited, his thoughts drifted back to that
afternoon in this very field. That day had been the first time that Emma had
kissed him, her lips soft and sweet against his own. It had been a chaste
thing, but special. It had made him feel special, special enough that he
forsook all propriety and the vows he made to the kingdom just so he could kiss
her again, and to never stop kissing her.
If things went according to plan, he would have that chance for the rest of his
life.
summary: based on this prompt: “Established long distance relationship, one of them surprises the other by showing up right before midnight [on New Years Eve].” with a side helping of vloggers au! (a mixture of angst and fluff beyond this point)
word count: ~3600
an: happy first day of au week! I probably won’t post very much this week due to juggling way too many mcs, but I hope you enjoy this humble offering that I sort of threw together last night. 🙂
Emma Swan sits in her favorite booth wearing
her favorite slightly oversized sweater with her favorite drink at her favorite
diner, across from one of her closest friends, Mary Margaret Nolan.
Mary Margaret has a sweet smile on her lips as
she chats about the goings-on in her life, including but not limited to the
newly acquired husband Emma had thought Mary Margaret would stop talking about
post-wedding.
Turns out, love is inescapable. So is the
impending feeling of sadness and guilt over her own love life.
Summary: Emma doesn’t remember who she was before she was found in the woods, but she knows that she has a few close friends, a good job, and a loyal cat that greets her every day when she gets home from work. What she doesn’t know, however, is that her past is about to catch up to her in the strangest of ways. She learns quickly that not everything is as it seems, not even her cat. Rating: E Content warnings: smutty smut (sorry, not this chapter), brief mentions of the loss of a hand Chapter specific content warnings: None A/N: Oh man, where do I start? With thanks, of course. To @clockadile for the absolutely beautiful artwork that I can’t believe goes with my story. To @captainstudmuffin for the intense beta work and idea bounces and listening at every turn. To @phiralovesloki for the guidance and the love and more hand-holding than I should’ve ever subjected you to, but still you helped. Without you all, this story would not be here. I’ve got nothing else. Enjoy! Catch it on Ao3 or FFN! And catch @clockadile‘s artwork HERE!
The first day that Emma Swan remembers, she is barefoot, in nothing but a cotton nightgown that looks straight out of another world, and she is freezing. Her hair is icing over, the wet tendrils hardening in the frigid weather, and she’s vaguely aware that she should be worried about her toes, her fingers, any of the exposed flesh that keeps getting colder by the minute. Instead, she focuses on putting one foot in front of the other, trying to push away the pain that shoots through each foot as she breaks twigs and finds sharp stones with her nearly-numb soles.
She stumbles over a root, crying out as she falls to the mud, her hands sinking into the nearly-frozen earth as a sob wracks through her body. Icy water seeps into the cotton under her knees, and it is tempting, so very tempting, to fall the rest of the way, to curl up in the fallen leaves she spies to her left below a sprawling tree, and let the elements take her away from the pain and confusion she’s drowning in.
Emma Swan does not, in fact, know that she is Emma Swan. She knows that she is a woman, she is lost in a forest, she is in danger of frostbite, and she is losing hope fast as the daylight sinks closer and closer towards the horizon.
It All Starts With a Dance 
