A/n: Holy cow! I totally didn’t expect the response I received to this fic! I’m so glad you all loved this little world I created. So, because everyone asked for part 2 of Killian meeting Wendy, here it is. Also, stay tuned, because there will be a part 3!
It’s a funny thing how easily one’s life can turn on a dime.
Over the course of her near-thirty years of life, it has happened to Emma often. From the Dark Curse robbing her of a life of royalty to Neal framing her to a small, ten-year-old boy showing up at her door – these moments all altered her life in dramatic ways.
Now as she stands in the doorway of her Manhattan apartment, Emma thinks that this is another one of those moments.
Hook stares back at her, and she at him, and none of it seems real. Only it is, or so she believes, because she bites the inside of her cheek and feels a bloom of pain. You can’t feel pain in dreams, right?
“Swan,” he begins, and before he can say anything further, Emma plants a hand on his chest and pushes him deeper into the hallway, and shuts the door behind them.
If any of her neighbors were to step outside, they would get quite the sight – her in her flannel pajamas and him still in his pirate regalia. Hook looks just as Emma remembers – dark hair an artful mess, blue eyes bright, and chest hair on full display. The ache that’s settled in chest for the past three months begins to dissipate, and Emma wants nothing more than to pull him into her arms for a hug. But she puts a clamp on those emotions, because –
Every year, she spent the summer in the house just across the rocky shoreline. Every year, it became a little harder for him to keep from wishing for more than that. A two shot for CS AU Week with a modern somewhat Lieutenant Duckling theme. Inspired partly by this music video. Also on FF.NET and AO3. Part 2 will be posted soon!
Rated: T (for now) Word Count: 7K
The house on the rocky coastline had once been his grandfather’s – not that he’d ever met the man. He didn’t really need to when he had a storyteller like his older brother to fill in the blanks. Over the years, Liam had become a master at cloaking those tales in the salty sea breeze during the warm summer months. They had endless days of recounting the family history that Killian was fairly sure was at least partly false, but his brother had always had a way with crafting words into a convincing saga. Plus, with a widowed and very absentee father being the only other man he had to look up to, finding entertainment in his brother’s tellings was definitely a preferred pastime.
“You know, he built that house all by himself, Killian,” Liam explained, his clumsy teenage feet navigating the boulders by the shore. “He said it was a good place for him and grandma to have a future together.”
“Oh,” Killian sighed as his little legs fought to keep up. “Well….did they have one?”
“One what?”
“A future?”
“Well, yeah,” Liam answered, raising an eyebrow. “They lived here all their lives – and they loved each other.”
“Love? That’s gross, Liam.”
“Maybe so,” his brother laughed, handing over a stone that was begging to be skipped across the water. “But one day it probably won’t be anymore.”
The timeline of ‘one day’ dwindled faster than Killian knew it would, his summer walks to the waves with his hero became more sporadic as Liam started taking an interest in that dreaded four letter word. Waking early in the mornings, his brother would take off on his bike with other lads his own age in pursuit of the series of carnivals downtown and the throes of vacationing girls. It was a way to spend the sunshine filled hours that Killian knew he’d never enjoy – not in a million years.
It would actually take much less time than that to change his stubborn mind – not even the remainder of the summer in fact.
“Who are you?”
The voice was soft and simple, a sweet tone of curiosity to it that quickly pulled him out of the lonely and rather redundant task of searching for seashells. His head snapped up in the direction of the inquiry as his shaggy hair blew in messy patterns across his forehead. The ground seemed to shift under his well worn sandals as he caught sight of where the question was coming from – and his bright blue eyes opened just a bit wider.
“Uhhh,” he stammered, straightening his posture. “Who are you?”
“I asked you first.”
It was a girl – one that appeared to be roughly his same age. She had the fairest porcelain skin and deep green eyes that he couldn’t escape as he watched her hide her smile. Long blonde hair tumbled down her narrow shoulders and the fabric of her red sundress hit just below her knees. His voice became hard to find quite suddenly as he tilted his head in consideration of her.
Whoever she was, she certainly wasn’t from the sleepy seaside town he called home.
He feels like they’re teetering on a precipice. One false move and what’s between them will be over, smashed to pieces like her bloody table, never to be repaired. “It was just a kiss.”
“It was more than that. It’s always been more than that.” She glares at him, suddenly looking as though she’s about to cry. “And we both know it.”
CS AU Week #5: role reversal – a sheriff killlian au!
~2.1k
ps I’m not sure how good this is but this week has really encouraged me to start writing again so I’m going to keep at it. hope you like!
Eighteen hours and twenty minutes.
That was the amount of time since Kathryn Nolan’s car had
been discovered just on the edge of the borders of Storybrooke, the front seat
door hanging open and the driver absent.
It took six of those hours for someone to notice that she
wasn’t at home, and one more to discover the abandoned vehicle.
Another hour after that before someone thought to call the
sheriff.
Killian Jones was used to tough cases. As the sheriff of Storybrooke, he’d tackled
everything from robberies at Granny’s (the grilled cheeses were to die for) to
missing dwarves (whose idea was it to put Sleepy on watch duty?). This case hardly seemed any different.
Fortunately, he knew exactly what to do. After combing the car from front to back,
he’d found Kathryn’s acceptance letter into law school, a suitcase filled with
clothes, and her phone, slightly cracked from the crash but with information
still retrievable. He’d gone with the
phone, and the first thing he’d discovered was her last call – made to one Emma
Swan.
A/N: Still playing catch-up! As a little side note, all of these fics I’m posting for AU week are completely written, I just ran out of time editing them in their entirety so I’ve broken them up, but they will be posted regularly!
CS AU Week – Day 3: Beloved Tropes
Summary: A horrible bout of writer’s block brings novelist Killian Jones to the charming little town of Storybrooke, Maine, where single mother and coffee shop owner, Emma Swan, proves to be the exact spark of inspiration he needs to finish the first book in his new series. (Coffee Shop AU)
He’s loved words from the moment he could form them, loves the power in them, the cleverness, the way that they can express, the way they can challenge the mind and create entire worlds. He’s always had a knack for them — for structure and delivery, for creativity and conveying emotions and clever plot twists — so it wasn’t very surprising, then, that his path had eventually led him into the publishing field.
He likes to tell stories, to entertain and imagine and draw people in with carefully constructed sentences into carefully constructed worlds — at least when he’s not in the worst bout of writer’s block he’s experienced in his entire life.
He’s not positive how long he’s been staring at his laptop, but his eyes are near crossing and he’s got a monster headache brewing right between them. He tries not to sigh and let his frustration get the best of him, but this is the mental block from hell and he’s got a first draft deadline for the first book in his newest and highly anticipated (but hey, no pressure) trilogy arriving on swift wings, which he’s fairly certain he’s not even going to make at this point.
He doesn’t notice someone’s even looking over his shoulder until he hears the quiet, contemplative hum near his ear and he jumps in his seat, nearly toppling over from surprise. His head whips towards the sound and the last thing he’s expecting to see so close to him is Emma Swan, the gorgeous coffee shop owner and second shift barista who’d taken his order earlier (hours earlier to be exact, if the sun now dipping below the horizon is anything to go by).
She’s blonde, and despite all of his poetic way with words, of course he would only be capable of stating the obvious, but it’s the first thing he’d noticed the very first time she’d taken his drink order almost a week ago.
Just a quick scene I thought was missing from 5×22. Enjoy!
Killian feels the photograph in his pocket as heavy as if he were lugging around the entire galaxy within his leather jacket, close enough to grasp if he just reached for it.
Mary Margaret seems to notice the way his hand twitches, but if she’s thinking of making any comments, she decides against it. They’re all feeling a little helpless, but Killian feels like if he doesn’t flex his fingers wide, he may just take his anger out on the floor beneath him. It does little to soothe his frustration.
The picture in his pocket does not make it any easier. The picture of Emma Swan.
This one has been in the works or a long time, but it’s finally coming together: fae!Killian! Inspired by a prompt list—“I was just taking a walk through the woods and I didn’t think Fae really existed, and I really don’t think I’ll accept any food from you” au—and Colin’s adorable elf ears.
Summary:
Emma’s visit to her friends in Ireland becomes more than just a vacation
when she meets a handsome man in the woods. A handsome man who turns
out to me an immortal fae—and helps reveal some truths about herself. (Title from a poem by W. B. Yeats)
Emma had needed a vacation—it was long overdue. Somewhere warm, with white sand, hot men, and drinks fruity enough to cover the taste of cheap rum.
Yeah, that would be perfect right now, she thought as she stared out at the grey clouds hanging low over the lush green hillside below her. Hell, even water would be nice.
Because instead of St. Somewhere, Emma’s sentimental side had been swayed into coming to Ireland to visit Granny, the woman who pretty much raised her, and Ruby Lucas, her best friend. The two ladies had moved to a little town on the Irish Sea a year ago—citing the need for a change of scenery and a long-lost relative leaving them a property—and hadn’t seen Emma since, so it was probably only fair that she use her first vacation in a long time to go see them.
And she was so happy to be with them; she really was. But the tiny seaside town had little to offer in the way of sand (more like rocks), and while Granny never skimped on the rum, the only hot guy in town had already (unsurprisingly) been claimed by Ruby.
From where she was at the top of one of the hills nearby, she could just pick out the green roof of Granny’s diner-slash-inn in the little hamlet, though it looked like a dollhouse from here. Because, on the advice of Ruby’s boyfriend-slash-town sheriff Graham, she’d gone on a hike.
“Oh, it’s a beautiful day,” he’d said. “Perfect for hiking. Not too hot, not too cool. All the trails are marked!”
Ha. Yeah. Marked. Which was exactly why she was standing up here, on some narrow footpath that probably hadn’t been used since Saint Patrick drove the snakes out (which was bull, actually, because she totally saw one—or at least something that looked like one), unable to discern a way back to the village. And what little she could see of the sun was making its way down toward the horizon. To top it all off, she was not only parched, having ran out of water a few hours ago, but damn, was she hungry.
I really should have listened to Granny this morning.
The fierce old woman hadn’t just told her to bring food and water—no, she told her to stay out of the hills altogether.
“There’s gancanagh out there,” she warned. “Just waiting for a hot little thing like you.”
One of her fondest memories growing up was Granny’s stories of mythology, but especially the fae folk. Emma and Ruby had spent hours searching the woods near their home in Maine for the wee creatures—or the big creatures; Granny had said some could blend right in with the rest of us, and the only way to tell was their pointed ears (which led to two little girls squealing when they saw Mr. Spock on TV). For years, she had fallen asleep to the grand, magical tales Granny wove, even when she got big enough to realize they were literally fairy tales.
So when Granny warned her of the gancanagh, the fae known for seducing human women, she just rolled her eyes and reverted back to her rebellious teenage ways, deciding that a hike was exactly what she’d do. Besides, she’d be 28 in a few days; she was more than a full-grown adult.
Which meant she could totally figure a way out of this. And she’d totally ignore those long-buried feelings of abandonment; that was all behind her, even if she was pretty sure she was so lost that even if someone came looking, they’d have a hard time finding her.
Not knowing what else to do, she attempted to backtrack down the way she’d came, until there was a fork and she couldn’t remember which way to go. Then she hit another one, and another, until I’m pretty sure I’ve seen that tree three times.
Of course, Granny’s warning was ringing in her ears now; every rustle was some demon Cù-Sìth coming to eat her, or maybe that bear from Brave (her Celtic mythologies had kind of melted together over the years).
It was when she was convinced she was permanently lost and nearly seeing stars from thirst that the rustling picked up; it was definitely something. And it was getting closer. She said a silent prayer to whatever deity might be listening as the footfalls of whatever beast drew nearer, until it finally broke through the tree line…and her heart stopped.
Day 6:Another Time Period – London, 1912, the turning point for the British Suffragettes and their movement to extend the right to vote to women. Inspired by the film Suffragette.
Rebellion
Emma Swan, doting mother, wife, has been working as a laundress since the age of fourteen. While her work, alongside her husband, Neal, has put food on their table and clothes on the back of their son, Henry, it has been a struggle since the start. Having faced sexual violence, long work hours and unsafe working conditions, she doesn’t realize just how close she is to the end of her rope until she finds herself dangling. It only takes stumbling upon a riotous act by two suffragettes for her fingers to finally slip.
Knowing she is putting her family and her job at risk, she joins the movement, testifying before Parliament and attending rallies and demonstrations. A speech given by Mary Margaret Nolan, the most notorious Suffragette in all of Britain, is broken up by the police and Emma is hauled away to prison. While inside, she endures hardships she’d never imagined, but forms bonds with the other women stronger than anything she’s ever felt before. She’s a fighter now and emerges with fire in her eyes and a determination to never back down, ever again.
Upon her release, she arrives home to an irate husband who promptly kicks her out of her home, accusing her of shaming him to the core and of being the worst possible mother for their son. She finds herself destitute, surviving only through the kindness of her fellow warriors, sleeping in an abandoned train station far from her son.
Killian Jones notices the first day Emma does not arrive to work.
I have a few
‘involuntary’ ships when it comes to the Star Trek series since I was
‘forced’ to watch a lot of episodes with my hubby. So it isn’t really
surprising that my muse decided to take a trip on the Enterprise. 🙂
Logic demanded of her not to go down to the engine room. They would just get into another fight. Commander Killian Jones always argued with her, as if he had any chance to win a logical discussion. Considering that he was human and she was Vulcan with an elaborate education in engineering that mirrored his and add to that her logical intellect, she was actually able to help him with the problems they had with the warp drive lately. But arguing with Commander Jones was sometimes as if she was talking to a wall and not a living, thinking human being. Though it had taken her a few weeks to realize that the strange sensation that coursed through her every time she saw him was annoyance.
An emotion.
Since he’d come aboard the Enterprise about six months ago she found herself struggling with emotions she hadn’t felt in a very long time. Not since she’d been a child. But working with Commander Jones brought all of those emotions she’d buried deep back to the surface.
So she did what she hadn’t done in a very long time … she acted irrational.
It All Starts With a Dance 