#queue is running low and I have an untagged queue

[scarletfasinera]

Hey interact with this post in some way (liking, replying, reblogging and telling me directly in a comment, idc) if I can go through your blog and queue stuff.

[kytherah]

# KYTHERAH  ,  lady  elise  the  spider  queen  .  Portrayed  by  Yuri  ,  '97  ,  they/she  .  Low  activity  ,  secondary  muse  .  Heavily  headcanon  based  ,  any  canon  divergence  will  be  explored  in  headcanon  posts  .  heavily  wip  .  temp rules , also available to view under read more .

I go by Yuri, I'm 27, pronouns they/she, greyace lesbian. I'm a bit introverted/socially awkward on top of being frequently busy, so if I delay in replies either ic or ooc I apologize!! I am open to sharing my discord privately as well, if requested! I've been in the League fandom since 2013 with many different muses and usernames I do not remember. I do still actively play both League and Wild Rift, and am open to adding and playing with mutuals!

I'm a full-time online student & have to spend a lot of my time with other personal tasks, I try to pop in when I have some free time! A lot runs on queue, and some replies may be delayed; please feel free to nudge me if you'd like! I queue almost everything to run through the week, as this helps me keep a comfortable pace with my other responsibilities.

My triggers: r/pe / sexual assault / csa / domestic abuse / child abuse & cancer. I have really bad ocd, and these topics tend to make it spike due to past traumas! I mainly ask for it to be tagged, and I will not cover topics on my blog that relate to my triggers. I will block if I see it untagged or not somehow hidden, ie using a read more - PLEASE use basic tag formatting to tag triggers, as it's really difficult to blacklist if the trigger is formatted in any uncommon way. Any trigger that may come up in my writing will be tagged as "tw trigger //" ; please let me know if I miss anything that you need tagged!! I will tag spider imagery as: tw spiders // , tw spiders .

If you write anything like inc/st, d/bcon, n/ncon, or ANYTHINGGG of the sort do not follow me!!! I will hardblock over this as it makes me incredibly uncomfortable.

Shoutout Rhea for providing me with all my caps from the season trailer 😔🙏

[fornoxious]

#  FORNOXIOUS  !            Lady  Cassiopeia  Du  Couteau  ,  the  serpent's  embrace  .  portrayed  by  yuri  ,  27  ,  they/she  ,  low  activity  .  heavily  headcanon  based  ,  any  canon  divergence  will  be  explored  in  headcanon  posts  .  heavily  wip . temp rules , also available under read more .

I go by Yuri, I'm 27, pronouns they/she, greyace lesbian. I'm a bit introverted/socially awkward on top of being frequently busy, so if I delay in replies either ic or ooc I apologize!! I am open to sharing my discord privately as well, if requested! I've been in the League fandom since 2013 with many different muses and usernames I do not remember. I do still actively play both League and Wild Rift, and am open to adding and playing with mutuals!

I'm a full-time online student & have to spend a lot of my time with other personal tasks, I try to pop in when I have some free time! A lot runs on queue, and some replies may be delayed; please feel free to nudge me if you'd like! I queue almost everything to run through the week, as this helps me keep a comfortable pace with my other responsibilities.

My triggers: r/pe / sexual assault / csa / domestic abuse / child abuse & cancer. I have really bad ocd, and these topics tend to make it spike due to past traumas! I mainly ask for it to be tagged, and I will not cover topics on my blog that relate to my triggers. I will block if I see it untagged or not somehow hidden, ie using a read more - PLEASE use basic tag formatting to tag triggers, as it's really difficult to blacklist if the trigger is formatted in any uncommon way. Any trigger that may come up in my writing will be tagged as "tw trigger //" ; please let me know if I miss anything that you need tagged!! I will tag spider imagery as: tw spiders // , tw spiders .

If you write anything like inc/st, d/bcon, n/ncon, or ANYTHINGGG of the sort do not follow me!!! I will hardblock over this as it makes me incredibly uncomfortable.

[hopelesserbeing]

Welcome to the abyss...

Astri 🌟 adult (25+) // he/him // 🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍🌈

read more for more information

Tl;Dr I hope you don't take me too seriously ✌️

You can call me Astri (or hopeless) and this is my blog. -jazz hands-

I run a queue that's sometimes untagged because I forget.

Things you may find here include, but are not limited to; fandom, arts and culture, the natural world, beautiful landscapes and location photography, psychology, identity, esotericism and religion, and all the things that means, my own art of various kinds (and i fancy myself a jack of the arts), book reviews and liveblogging, #NowListening, video games, and whatever else I feel like.

☆~ more about me ~☆

Tl;DR, im trans, gay, satanist, alterhuman, plural, artist of many kinds, fan of various arts and culture, cat dad, cyclist, and Enjoyer Of Things. I both take myself way too seriously, and not seriously at all.

The first thing you have to know about me is that I am a member of a plural system. The second thing you need to know to understand where I'm coming from is that I myself am made up of many parts inside. I call them "kintypes" but they were former members of the system who collectively merged to form Astri as a whole. I'll probably never list these kintypes or the individual identities of the former system members who dissolved to form me, but I will probably talk about them from time to time as they are still aspects of my identity. I may use "fictive" and "factive" and "kintype" almost interchangeably depending on the context, or as needed to get my point across. As a minor disclaimer, we've been poking around otherkin and therian spaces since the early 2000s, I'm open to fair discussion about how I use these terms for myself but I won't take kindly to simple bullying.

I struggle sometimes with various aspects of my identity, but I think this is a symptom of being a deeply introspective person and often at odds with simple acceptance of my existence. That, along with sharing things I like, is probably going to be the thing I talk about the most.

My Twin in the system is Aprys, she makes up another "half" of me. Me and her feel both as separate individuals, but as the same soul, if that makes sense. She has her own blog as well. (They're all sideblogs tbh.) As of me writing this, me and her take the main responsibility in the system as frequent fronters, "hosts" if you will. Where she is made up, in a similar way, of a bunch of former system members who merged together. But seeing as she's an important other half of me, I feel like I must mention her here.

As I said before, I fancy myself a jack of the arts. I like to make things, creation of art is truly one of the best things about being a human being. And I define art broadly, from visual and musical to literary and performance. I think it's important to have a really loose understanding of what can be considered art, for the sake of art and human existence itself. And yes "low class" art is still art, the smutty fanfics, the sexy parodies, all of it, don't make me spell it out for you, please.

Personally, while I enjoy doing visual arts, I'm more interested in reading and writing literary arts myself, as well as making music. (I WILL get my hands on a Hurdy Gurdy someday.)

That said, I'm an avid enjoyer of art others make, and I can't limit myself. Think of the things I reblog here as a curated museum collection of things I personally feel like are worth sharing to whatever audience sees them. (They may get initially reblogged untagged, but I plan to keep things sort of organized at least, for the sake of the gallery.)

Things I probably will talk about much less, or at least only mention when its relevant, I am trans and I am gay (in that no matter who I'm into or who's into me its gay, end of story.)

I also consider myself a satanist, but I'm not sure how much I will talk about this. The deep religious and esoteric shit is more Aprys's thing and I'm along for the ride without much protest. Still I'll mention it, because I do have a literary and psychological interest in religion and probably will talk about it more under that lens here. I'll still provide my "satanic disclaimer" at the bottom of this post.

That's about it for base knowledge about me you might want to know before interacting with me and my blog? I don't know, if there's something deeply important to you to know, feel free to ask me I guess? I'm friendly, just shy and reserved. :P

☆~ links to certain posts ~☆

Big Post of Picrews I Made of Myself

☆- DNI -☆

Fooled you! Ha!

There IS NO DNI here! And I dont check DNIs on blogs. (If it's on a post or in tags I'll respect it, but I think those banners are fucking ugly, sorry.) I am a grown adult with a full time job, bills and hobbies outside of the online obsession to check everyone you interact with.

I don't care if you block me, so if I make you uncomfortable or you don't like me and don't want to see me, please take the initiative to block me yourself and take control of how you engage with the internet.

☆ - Satanic Disclaimer! - ☆

I am NOT AFFILIATED with any existing or nonexistent Satanic Organization or Group, nor do I condone violence or crime committed by any such self-proclaimed Satanists, even, and especially, if claimed to be compelled by Satan/Lucifer/etc to do so.

Just like many other religions, Satanism is no one specific set of morals and beleifs, and any one way of viewing or practicing Satanism should not be taken for collective endorsement. I beleive in taking responsibility for your actions and the consiquences they have as an individual, rather than blaming your actions on any God or Spiritual Beings.

I am also not affiliated with "x* nos*** nism" or anything of the sort. Not under any different term or label, not with a 10 foot pole. While I dont have a DNI, i want to make my stance on this subject clear due to its name and the potential for it to get lumped into satanism as a whole. Regardless of what they call themselves, those who harm children are generally not welcome in most satanic spaces, and i would hope all spaces. Leave me alone. (! Replace * and *** with "e" and "ata" respectively. Sorry for the shitty puzzle, I didn't want this post to show up in any search results.)

[mkoshi-a]

— take with this what you will.

in regards to yesterday , because now i’m actually kinda pissed about this : i reblogged what i did because it involved actual , harmful , problematic content that needed to be called out. on any other circumstance , i would have not said of word because it would’ve been drama seeking. but it was antisemitism and other things that can be read on the post that right now i dont care to go into. and i will also say that i tagged everything accordingly — there was nothing that went untagged. yet instead : i got anon hate , and i’ve had multiple people who i actually cared about very dearly soft block me and dropped me like the drop of a hat. now i dont know about everyone else , but that shit sucks. i understand people just want to write and not see drama. but when it comes to shit that hurts people , its gotta be nipped in the bud. yet , i guess im sorry? to causing people so much annoyance and grief yesterday that it was enough to do this. according to the anon i’m toxic and cancel-worthy. so take this as my low activity warning and semi-hiatus. things will probably run on a queue if i even put things in there. but this place fucking sucks at times and people really show their true colors in situations like this. so. yeah. bye for now? idk. idk when ill be fully back. this might be irrational and stupid but its the only thing i can think of right now.

— my discord is available if needed.

[gloryseized]

Rules.

This is a private, selective, iconless, multifandom and multiship blog. I will only interact with mutuals on this blog. I don't necessarily autoship, so if you are interested in shipping, please reach out to me

Duplicate friendly!

Racism, homophobia, transphobia, etc are not permitted on this blog

I will try not to leave explicit, common triggers such as blood, violence, mentions of sexual assault, or death untagged. Things will be tagged as " ___ tw " . If you want me to tag a trigger, please say so!

I have a personal trigger of miscarriage/pregnancy loss. This is something I will not rp in a thread, although I don’t mind if it it present in a character’s backstory. I won’t rp rape/sexual assault.

I will not tolerate blogs who reblog my RPs that they are not involved in.

Anon Hate will not be tolerated.

Even though the writer is overage, I will not write smut.

I will not interact with RP blogs that portray living, non-fictional characters. I may make an exception if it's a character featured on a multi and not a solo muse blog

This is a very low activity blog so it will run primarily off a queue. If I have missed a reply, please feel free to message me!

I am open to mains/affiliates! I will probably not initiate it myself because I tend to be insecure, but please DM me if you want to tlak about this~

This is a sideblog and I will follow back from stygicniron.

[oloreaa]

about this blog:

Hiiiii🫶🏻

header credit // icon credit

safe for minors, no untagged explicit material

everything is running on queue!

if I'm online you'll see those tagged differently (mostly under #rea rambles)

DNI: usual crowd of racists, anti-black, antisemites, zionists, islamophobes, homophobes, terfs etc, RPF writers, incest shippers. pedophiles and so on, you get the point. I do not want to associate with anyone with these kinds of views.

Fandom: mainly Star Wars and accompanied media, other fandoms might pop up every now and then, will probably only write for SW at this point now

Do not feed my work to an AI. I'm begging you. Use common sense please.

about me:

Taiwanese/German

Studying languages and arts

I don't write or interact with reader insert anymore!! It's not my thing, but my older fics are still up for those who liked them

Not really on tumblr anymore, sorry😔 I've got an active life outside the internet, which means that I will only occasionally check in and lurk a bit

I try to write and continue Vencuyanir, but the last few SW projects have kinda ruined the fun for me, which is why my motivation is low at the moment. BUT I will never abandon it, don't worry, the story means the world to me.

sideblogs:

writing: @writereaa

aesthetic: @lotusblossoms

nsfw: @pearlescentsilk

If you need me to tag anything for filtering, shoot me a message and I'll do it! Thank you for being here, stay safe and I hope you have a nice day!💕

[shark-from-the-park]

FIC: The Fitzier of It, Episode Three

A Fitzier The Thick of It AU in several parts.  You can find Episode One here and Episode Two here.  With sincere thanks to @casperthefriendlylittlefan and @coffeesugarcream for their cheerleading and encouragement and to everyone else who has read and enjoyed so far. Mwah.

In this installment, James is getting stressed out as Sir John’s resignation looms and he still hasn’t finalised his future plans. And Dundy eats some more.

Warnings for bad language, NSFW themes, endlessly snacking LeVesconte, a badly mangled baguette and Cornelius Hickey.

@litttlesilkworm @boisinberryjamarama @thegreenmeridian  @cinemaocd @the-jewish-marxist @hereliesnils @nashilena @itisa-profoundbond-sarandom @idlesuperstar @what-a-terrorific-mess @kahootqueen69 @jaredharrisankles @shit-in-silk-stocking @bobbole @fellowshipofthegay @aconfusedwriter @uncannybrightside @glorioustidalwavedefendor  @zaphodbeeblebro @sasheenka @intrepid-inkweaver @full-of-terrors

Contact me via some smoke signalling or other method if you’d like to be tagged/untagged (mostly things I tag as fitzier do not show up in the fitzier tag).

Episode Three

James had an extremely productive morning forcing the resignation of a junior minister whom he would have happily eviscerated for getting caught up in another bloody PFI scandal, and then swinging by Hudson House to comfort Henry Collins, an anxiety-ridden shadow cabinet minister of Sir John’s whose past addiction to prescription painkillers had just wound up splashed across the tabloids.

James was secretly quite fond of Collins, and he put in a few phone calls to newspaper editors to see if he could get them to lighten up on the man via the use of a few veiled threats (his intimate knowledge of what the news teams had gotten up to at their last Blackpool conference once again proving invaluable).

Hungry enough to eat a horse, he dropped into Pret-a-Manger on his way back to Sir John’s offices. He was perusing the baguettes, struck by the notion that without Dundy present he might actually get to finish one by himself, when Cornelius Hickey oozed up behind him from whatever crack he usually called home.

“Fancy bumping into you on this side of town, James Fitzjames.” The diminutive man said.

James felt every hackle he had rise.

Clutching a chicken and avocado baguette as though it had wounded him in some way, James turned to face his rival spin doctor, a winning smile plastered on his face.

“Cornelius. What an unexpected pleasure.”

“Not on your way over to Baffin House are you, by any chance, James?” Hickey was, as so often, offensively chipper. “Only I heard that you’d been sniffing around Francis Crozier’s door...”

“Well, as you know Cornelius, Westminster whispers often can’t be trusted.” James beamed, only just this side of a rictus, avocado squidging out of the sides of the baguette between his fingers.  

“I thought, surely not, James can’t possibly be so desperate for a candidate that he’s sniffing around Francis. Him and Francis have always hated each other… Poor James, I thought, it’s almost like he doesn’t know what to do in the face of Sir John’s resignation...”

“Rumoured resignation.” James said quickly. “You shouldn’t believe everything you hear on street corners at 3am, Cornelius. Wasn’t it you who Francis once called the most immoral man in Britain? What else did he say now... That’s it, the love child of Piers Morgan and Katie Hopkins… Oh dear, you weren’t hoping for a shot at working for him, were you Cornelius?”

“Oh James, you know I never discuss my plans with anyone, even a dear friend such as yourself! And while we’re reminiscing, what was it that Francis said about you while you were still doing the long hair thing? Like you were trying to look like David Ginola, but were coming off more as Neil from The Young Ones? That was it. Ouch. The man’s references can be a bit dated but he does tend to hit pretty much on the nose, doesn’t he? Anyway, sit down James, let’s get some lunch and have a proper chat, shall we?”

Struggling not to visibly shudder with revulsion at the idea, James said “Er, no thanks Cornelius, I have to get a sandwich back to Dundy, you know how he gets, blood sugars and all that...” He grabbed blindly for another sandwich and a few packets of crisps before making his way to the queue, feeling Hickey’s grinning, calculating gaze on his back all the way.

*****

“So what you’re telling me...” Dundy managed around a mouthful of pulverised avocado and baguette. “Is that you and Hickey fought over Francis in Pret, and I missed it?”

James swallowed a huge mouthful of New York deli sandwich. “I could honestly have strangled the little weasel-faced bastard. As if he could ever even stand a chance with Francis after everything that happened with Silna that time. And even before that he never stood a chance anyway... The slippery little prick...”

“Tell me you had a dance-off James? Give me this one thing. I mean, you and Hickey having a dance off for rights to Francis Crozier in Pret-a-Manger, that’s pretty much gay culture in a nutshell, isn’t it?”

“Dundy, you’re straight. You don’t get to say what is or isn’t gay culture.”

Dundy inhaled a handful of crisps, then spoke around the bulk of them. “What, even after I’ve been your hag for all these years?”

“Anyway, if we had had a dance off I definitely would have won.”

“No question.” Dundy agreed loyally. Then he ruined it by getting a stupid sly look on his face. “You’re really quite possessive over this Bolshevik boyfriend of yours considering that you don’t fancy him at all, aren’t you?”

“Fucking hell Dundy! If you don’t start taking our next moves more seriously we could both well end up working in a bloody Pret-a-Manger before the year is out! Do some fucking work and stop making daft jokes or I’ll choke you with a sandwich and use your corpse to bludgeon Hickey to death!” James was surprised to find that he had raised his voice.

“Everything alright out there gentlemen?” Echoed the kindly voice of Sir John Franklin from his voluminous office next door.

“Fine thanks!”

“Right as rain, Sir John!”

They bent their heads back to their work, James pouring over his notebook frantically and Dundy redrafting a speech on his laptop, still with a stupid smirk on his face.

*****

To say that James and Dundy were snowed under with spin in the run up to Sir John’s resignation speech would have been a gross understatement.  Between them they killed more negative stories about boot-gate, redirected more journalists and called in more favours than a likeable but frankly mediocre politician probably deserved.  

James Fitzjames was a born charmer, but the thankless offensive he’d been on these last few weeks had exhausted even him.  

Now he and Dundy stood next to each other, squeezed in at the back of the public gallery at the House of Commons, awaiting Sir John’s resignation speech – a masterpiece of class and dignity that they’d painstakingly co-written.  

The session before Franklin’s slot was a foreign policy debate that they were catching the tail end of.  

A cabinet minister made the sort of crass and factually inaccurate generalisation that characterised his administration.  

From across the other side of the house, there was a flash of greying ginger on the back bench as Francis indicated and stood to respond. His lyrical yet acerbic voice resonated clearly around the chamber as he calmly eviscerated the cabinet minister’s comment for the patent absurdity that it was. His words were polite enough but his tone loudly called the other man a racist piece of shit.

The house erupted into murmurs in the aftermath as a completely unruffled Francis sat down again.  

Excitement rumbled low in James’ belly as he imagined Francis on the front bench, forthright and unapologetic in his leadership, giving the party the direction and purpose and bite it had been lacking for so long.  

He laughed breathlessly.  

Dundy elbowed him in the ribs and gave him an incredulous look.  James sobered at once, just in time to see Sir John rise to deliver their masterpiece.  

*****

There was a small, slightly subdued sort of function at HQ afterwards, canapés and weak champagne and Lady Jane milling around, that sort of thing.  

James smiled charmingly at everyone and was overwhelming in his enthusiasm and positivity.  Even Dundy turned on his own not-inconsiderable charm.

Many ministers, aides and hangers-on had come to commiserate with Sir John and wish him luck for the future.  Also to congratulate him on his excellent speech.  

Francis sent Sir John a brief message of goodwill for his retirement, but declined to attend the gathering, which was exactly what James had predicted.

The two or three other likely candidates for party leadership in the wake of Sir John’s resignation were all in attendance, however.  And they all had to be seized up and courted as James considered his and Dundy’s next moves.  

As the evening wore on, Dundy stepped out to call his wife, and James found himself stood alone at the counter which was serving as a bar, deep in thought.  

His soul nearly jumped out of his body when a voice to his left intoned;

“Ey up.”

Tom Blanky was standing beside him, dressed in his his usual rumpled suit, hair as wild as ever. James’ arrow paper-clip was still affixed to his shirt pocket like a trophy. He appeared to be wrapping canapés in serviettes and shoving them into his jacket pockets.  

“That was a right nice speech of Franklin’s today, James.”

James blinked. “Well. I can’t take all the credit. Henry wrote it with me.”

“You two come as a package deal, I expect.”  Blanky said conversationally.  

“Yes.”  James responded at once, though he wasn’t at all sure where this was going. It was true that James did the bulk of the work, but he couldn’t have coped without Dundy’s steady, loyal presence beside him. A spin doctor with a close colleague who was also a friend was almost unheard of.  A thousand times better to be working with Dundy than to have to work against him in some capacity.  

“Yer’ve done a right good job with Franklin these last few weeks, the two of yer. Tha’s just a fact.”

James tried not to let his surprise at this unexpected praise flummox him.  This couldn’t possibly be the invitation it appeared to be, could it? He needed to keep his wits about him.  

“Well, thank you for that, Mr. Blanky. And I, er, I thought Francis spoke brilliantly in the house today. Very upstanding and forthright.”

Blanky gave him a considered look with his sharp, intelligent little eyes. One corner of his mouth was quirking into what might have been a smirk.  

“The thing about Frank, James, is that he says exactly what he wants to say. Obviously he spoke off the cuff today.  He usually does.  He writes his own speeches.  Has me and Ed look over ‘em for ‘im, ‘course. But he always knows what he wants to say, and ‘e usually knows just how to put it, too. He’s a wicked smart man, is Frank. D’yer really think you can be of use to someone like that?”

The question surprised him, but he answered as confidently as he could, even under scrutiny.  “If I didn’t think I could be of use to Francis, I would never have approached him in the first place.”

Tom Blanky smiled at him then, downed two glasses of champagne, stuffed a packet of crackers inside his jacket, and bid James goodnight.  

*****

Whether Blanky’s approach had been sanctioned by Francis or not, James had no idea, but he couldn’t help but feel encouraged by it.  

James’ other rival spinners had already begun to attach themselves to other candidates for the leadership. Meaning that James was now going firmly out on a limb by trying to work for a man who more than likely still hated him.  

Dundy, as always, was simply content to follow where James led.

There was a short, and no-doubt stressful, window of opportunity here, a matter of days in which for James to make everything fall into place.

He had to keep himself and Dundy relevant, and ideally still working in top-tier politics.  

With overwhelming support from the grass-roots of the party, and the general public generally perceiving him as a breath of fresh air, Francis really was the one to watch.  All of James’ political instincts had been telling him that for years now.  

And Blanky hadn’t approached any of the other spin doctors who had been schmoozing at the gathering last night, had he?

No.  He only came to talk to me.  

That had to mean something.  

Time to swallow my pride and approach Francis again...

Maybe Dundy, and even Sir John, had been right in a way though.  Maybe James did need to inject a bit more humility into his manner.  

The thought made him feel uncomfortably warm somehow.  

James huffed in irritation.  

The thing was, he’d already reached the top of his profession, being Sir John’s media enforcer throughout his leadership of the opposition.  The only way for him to go now was down.  

Unless Francis really was considering hiring him.  

James knew, deep down inside, that Francis was the man for the job.  The one who deserved it.  Francis was someone you could actually – perish the thought – believe in.  

That sort of thing hadn’t seemed to matter very much to James, before.

And yet here he was.  

Definitely sensing a sea change.  

Right then.

There was nothing else for it.  It was time to do what he did best.  It was time to get to work.  

*****

“Word on the street,” Dundy informed him with a conspiratorial air between bites of carrot cake in Cafe Nero, “Is that Francis actually chased Hickey out of the building last week, James.  Out of the building. When you look at it from that perspective, we’re actually still in with a good shot.”

Dundy, having a wife and kids and therefore a life outside politics, could always be relied upon to take a more balanced view on things than James.  

“You’re right.”  James said, mostly just for something to say, though if he’d considered it, he might’ve realised that he meant it about more than the Hickey debacle.  

James didn’t pause his furious scribbling into his Moleskin notebook.

Names, phone numbers, offices.

He had a plan.

*****

Episode Four here...

[artistic-writer]

Alii dimidium Lunam (The Other Half of the Moon) - CS Werewolf AU - Ch 19

Title: Alii dimidium Lunam (The Other Half of the Moon) by @artistic-writer   artwork by @cocohook38 & @artistic-writer​

Rating: E (overall rating) for explicit sexual content, language and themes throughout. Trigger warnings will follow and be added as they are needed to avoid spoilers.

Art by @cocohook38 - Poster - Emma - David - Killian - James - Walsh - Graham - Liam - Brennan - Ruby

Chapter Art by @cocohook38 - Ch1 - Ch2 - Ch3 - Ch4 (NSFW) - Ch5

Art by @artistic-writer - 1 - 2 - 3 -

Also on: AO3 - FF

A/N: Werewolf Sunday! Here is ch 19 guys - sorry it’s late but I am back at work now, and I forgot to queue it up!

Massive thanks to my wonderful betas, @hookedonapirate who is one of the best beta’s this fandom has to offer - I seriously love her guys, and she deserves all the good things <3 <3 and @kmomof4 to whom this fic is also gifted for her birthday and for creating the @cssns  Thank you to my crew, @hollyethecurious  @resident-of-storybrooke @courtorderedcake  @doodlelolly0910 and special thanks to @killian-whump @killianmesmalls and @sherlockianwhovian for how they helped with the last few chapters. And to @flipperbrain  who drew THIS piece of art for this fic in December, before it was even written!

Taglist: @cssns @resident-of-storybrooke  @hollyethecurious  @kmomof4 @hookedonapirate  @winterbaby89 @courtorderedcake @initiala @cocohook38  @branlovesouat  @teamhook @snidgetsafan  @sherlockianwhovian @shireness-says @wingedlioness  @lenfaz  @therooksshiningknight @ilovemesomekillianjones  @bmbbcs4evr @blowmiakisscolin  @deathbycaptainswan  @onceuponaprincessworld @chinawoodfan  @seriouslyhooked  @snowbellewells  @wordsmith-storyweaver  @jennjenn615  @delightfully-difficult-pirate @doodlelolly0910 @tiganasummertree @hookedmom @thejollyroger-writer @rachie1940 @unworried-corsair @cs-forlife

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“To Graham and Ruby!” Brennan declared loudly, arm raised above his head and a small, glass tumbler in his hand. The amber liquid swirled in the glass, and the sound of ice cubes clinking the side of glasses echoed in their corner of the pub as Liam and Killian joined him in his toast.

“Graham and Ruby!” Liam echoed gleefully.

“To Graham and Ruby,” Killian repeated quietly, his voice a soft whisper next to his brother’s. He was happy for his friends, he really was, but he was also now sitting in a public place with his brother and his father, so his anxiety was a little spiked. He gave his father a suspicious sideways glance as he threw his head back and swallowed the rum in his glass, the burn of the liquid causing a warmth in the pit of his stomach.

Three glasses hit the dark wooden table together, years of grime evident in the thickness of the lacklustre varnish coat. It was patchy, shiny in places where others were dull and Killian tapped his outstretched arm at the spot next to his glass. His focus was on his fingertip, the nail digging into the soft table top where it really shouldn’t, and he ground his back teeth a little as a silence fell over their table.

“So,” Brennan began, twisting his body in the chair next to Killian’s so he was facing his son.

Killian knew what was coming and he held up his hand to cut him off, his pointed finger turning into a balled fist instantly. “Please, don’t apologise again,” he bit out.

“Killian,” Liam admonished, a frown on his face. “Not here,” he warned gently, scooting his chair forward under the table when a gaggle of humans sauntered past laughing.

“Look, Killian, you asked me here, remember? I can just as easily not be here.” Brennan looked to Liam for help with his wayward youngest, but neither had time to say a word before Killian snapped again.

“Oh, that’s what you are good at, isn’t it? Running away.” Killian slumped back in his chair, fist balling even harder on the table, leg twitching under the table and bobbing up and down on the ball of his foot.

“Okay, let’s all just calm down for a second. Shall I get us some more drinks?” Liam pushed himself to his feet, pausing to await Killian’s response. He was met with silence, his brother clearly haunted by not only his past but also more recent events.

“I’m not sure that would be wise.” Brennan shook his head, pointing at Killian accusingly. They had been in the pub some hours, firstly to celebrate the birth of Davin and then, once the excitement had dissipated, to talk over Kilian’s plan.

Killian had wanted answers. He was convinced his father’s mistakes could change his future, teaching him how to avoid the council and allow him to be with Emma. Only, his father had given him nothing more than the cold, hard realisation that the more he tried, the less likely it would ever be that he could be with Emma. Maybe if she was a lesser wolf, but the heir to Misthaven would never be able to simply disappear. “I think your brother has had enough,” Brennan whispered low, his words directed at Liam.

“I’ll tell you when I’ve had enough!” Killian’s voice boomed over the table and the barman shot them a look. “Maybe you should get some more drinks, Liam,” Killian spat, waving an arm towards the bar. “Father might not return if he goes.” Liam sighed, rolling his eyes at his brother’s childish antics and gave his father a knowing nod before making his way to the bar. Brennan watched him go, his demeanour and patience for Killian wearing thin.

“Now, see here, boy,” Brennan growled, leaning over and grabbing Killian by the head. His hand splayed out over the younger wolf’s skull, fingers digging into the thin covering of flesh painfully, and Killian tried to pull away uselessly. “I’m sorry I don’t have the answers you want,” he growled into Killian’s ear, eyes flicking around the pub in case anyone was watching. “But if you want to play this little dominance act, then I would be more than willing to take this outside.” Killian gave his father a sideways glance, their ears touching, and Killian turned his head away from his father’s stare as best he could in his position. “Better,” Brennan said softly, loosening his grip.

“Get off of me,” Killian spat through clenched teeth, wrenching his head from his father’s grip.

Brennan cocked his head sideways, taking in his broken son. Scars, fresh and old, littered Killian’s body from what he could see, and his heart softened instantly. Brennan had known bigger, pureblood wolves with less marks than his son. Killian’s fury was justified, his frustrations even more so. Brennan understood how he just wanted to be with the woman he loved, he had known that feeling, but he also knew Killian was trying to distract himself from the mental scars of being tortured.

It wasn’t his fault. He was half human after all.

“Killian, I can help you be a better wolf,” Brennan coaxed. “Faster and stronger. You can protect yourself, for next time.”

Killian stifled a laugh. “I don’t plan on being tortured again any time soon.”

“Of course not, but…” Brennan didn’t have time to finish his sentence before Killian cut him off anger, his words venomous and spiteful.

“It’s clear you cannot help me with what I need, so stop trying to find ways to bond with me. We are not the same, we never will be. Liam might have forgiven you for breaking our mother’s heart, but you would have to really sacrifice to win my trust.”

“Is your hatred for me or Neverland right now?” Brennan asked gently, trying to pull his son out of his rage. “Or do you just hate wolves?” he suggested, watching Killian flinch at his words.

Killian looked up at his father, the muscle in his jaw ticking as he ground his teeth once more. He was void of expression, the cold, dark stare he was giving his father full of resentment that he couldn’t control. Killian’s inner wolf was channelling his rage and Emma had unlocked the beast, paving the way for his true nature to reveal itself, and whilst it was a human-like wolf for her, he seemed unable to contain his wolfish humanity right now. Killian had thought he was okay with his father, had thought he understood the reasons behind his departure, but as it turned out, he was no closer to being able to welcome him with open arms than he had first thought.

“The only pureblood I’ve seen you tolerate is Humbert,” Brennan sighed, waving a hand at Killian.

“He saved my life,” Killian growled defensively.

“He’s still a purebred, Killian. A big, bad wolf who has done his fair share of killing for his pack. He might have been your savior, but tell me,” Brennan pried, leaning forward until his elbows were resting on the table. He laced his fingers and licked his lips, eyebrows arching on his forehead. “Do you not see how we are all the same?”

“I’m nothing like you. You made Liam and I without a second thought. If you had cared, you would have just left our mother alone and not forced us into this life.” Killian’s cheeks flushed with his anger, pricking pink under his assaulting words, his voice low and even so only a Were could hear.

“So we’re all monsters,” Brennan surmised sarcastically.

“No, not all pureblood wolves are monsters,” Killian grumbled with a shake of his head.

“Of course,” Brennan nodded with realisation. “The Nolan wolf. Emma.”

“Don’t you say her name,” Killian challenged, looking his father up and down from across the table, sizing up his potential opponent for battle. “Blood doesn’t matter with us…”

“And it didn’t with your mother and I,” Brennan interrupted. “And yet, we were ripped apart. Forced apart by the powers that be, the powers that govern our kind.” Killian shot him another look, nostrils flaring. “Her kind, Killian. She is a pureblood.”

“We’ll find a way to be together,” Killian said defiantly. “I will not fail where you have. I will fight for love.”

“Listen to you. You think Nolan will accept you because his daughter loves you? You’re wrong, Killian, and you’re going to get yourself killed.”

“I’m willing to die for love,” Killian said in a shaky breath, swallowing hard when his own words took him by surprise. “For some of us, love is more powerful than fear.”

“Is that what you think me leaving you, your brother and the woman I loved was?” Brennan snorted a laugh, slamming his hand down on the sticky table surface. “It wasn’t fear, my boy, it was sacrifice. I sacrificed my love, so that you could all survive.” Brennan’s ear tips turned red, something Killian knew that his own did when he was riled. “You may not believe it, but I love you, Killian. You are my son, and I love you.”

Killian was taken back by his father’s words, the air leaving his lungs and his face paling. He had waited his entire life to hear those words from his father, hear them actually spoken to him rather than in a general passing comment from his mother or brother. It shook him. He wasn’t ready to hear it. “Prove it,” he whimpered, his gruff voice shaking as tears pricked at his eyes. Brennan’s silence spoke volumes and Killian licked his lips, sucking in a defeated breath.

Killian pushed himself to his feet, stopping to look upon his father who was staring at his empty glass in contemplation. Of what Killian didn’t know, but he had given him enough of his time. He needed to get back to Emma, back to Liam’s loft and be with her, to make sure she was safe. He felt like only he could keep her safe but before he could make a move to exit the pub, his father grabbed his forearm and halted him in his tracks.

“Wait,” Brennan said desperately, flicking his gaze up to Killian with pleading eyes. The conflict on Brennan’s features made him frown and Killian titled his head curiously. “There is a plan,” Brennan began, his voice hushed. He tugged on Killian’s arm until his son sat back in his chair, just as Liam arrived back to the table with three fresh rums.

“What plan?” Liam asked dumbly, repeating the tail end of the conversation he had just walked in on.

“Hush, boy,” Brennan whispered gruffly, pulling Liam into his seat too. He leaned forward, chin inches from the grimy table top and both Liam and Killian mirrored his actions. “There is a plan to attack Misthaven,” he admitted, casting a glance around the bar in case they had been followed.

“What? When?” Killian demanded, sitting back up with panic in his eyes. If Misthaven was to be attacked, Emma had to know.

“Soon,” Brennan told him. “I’m sorry, that’s all I know.”

“And how can we trust a Neverland wolf?” Killian growled, wrinkling his nose in disgust and shooting Liam a glance. “After everything.”

“Killian, I didn’t know! Do you think I would have let him do those things to you if I had known you were his target?” Brennan bellowed, exasperated. “Walsh’s orders were to find the Nolan bitch but he got caught up in revenge. He has never stopped talking about how he would kill the wolf who gave him that scar.” Brennan's lips twitched into a proud smile that quickly faded away when he realised what he had said, and to who. “I didn’t mean…”

“Emma should know,” Liam insisted, distracting Killian from berating his father for his choice of words. Liam’s hand on his shoulder shook him roughly and he was confused for a second at Liam’s words. “She should go back to Misthaven.”

Killian snorted a laugh. “You’d both like that, wouldn’t you?”

“To warn her family!” Liam told him, irritated. “Family is important, Killian.” Liam stared at him, his blue eyes flecked with grey that spoke to years of knowledge that Killian would only hope to acquire. Liam was older and he had lived more, loved more and lost more than anyone he knew. “It’s why you can’t go with her,” Liam shook his head defiantly. “You have to warn her and then stay away, lie low.”

“Like hell I will!” Killian barked.

“He’s right,” Brennan piped up. “You will not be welcome at Misthaven. The alpha will kill you because of what you are. You’ll never be accepted.”

Killian looked between the two men, both fatigued and haggard, the lines on their faces from a combination of the sun and long years of worrying. Brennan most likely always worried about Killian, always wondering if he had survived his first change as Liam had. Wondering if he was as strong. Liam had aged through worrying for his brother, watched him try to find out who he was through fight after fight until his brawl with Walsh opened his eyes to his true nature. Killian had nearly killed Walsh that night, teeth stained red with blood as they had fled and Killian simply smiling with an arrogance that showed exactly how close his wolf nature was to taking over. It had chilled Liam to the bone at what his brother was capable of.

“I’ll take my chances at Misthaven. Can’t be as bad as what Neverland did to me,” he said sadly.

“Jesus, Killian,” Liam scolded. “Now is not the time to be stubbornly blinded by love, or lust, or whatever Emma’s heat is doing to you.”

“I’m not,” Killian bit out again.

“Then drop the hero complex and see sense!” Liam pleaded.

“This isn’t about being a hero, it’s about doing the right thing.” Killian pushed himself to his feet once more and straightened his jacket. “If you want to help, you’ll find out exactly when the attack is,” Killian said to his father, who nodded in agreement. “And help Graham get Ruby and Davin to a safe place,” he said to Liam. “If we can warn Misthaven before the attack, we could be spared.”

“This is madness,” Liam sighed into his hands, dragging his hands down his face. “David Nolan will never spare a mongrel. He exiled his own brother!”

“I have to try,” Killian said sadly, giving his brother a tight lipped smile.

--

Emma was beginning to worry. Killian had been gone for over three hours, talking with his father and Liam in a nearby pub. It was within walking distance but anything could’ve happened to him on his way back. Were they ambushed? Had Walsh finally found them? And why, after so long, had her lust not dissipated? Wolf heats were only supposed to last a few days at most, but it seemed Emma’s was hanging around.

And this time it was more intense than any before. It was definitely because of Killian, Emma had no doubt. From the second she had laid eyes on him in the bar, she was smitten. Using alcohol to lower their inhibition enough to fuck on his car was nothing, something she had done many times before, only this time it felt different. It felt real, warm, and she never wanted to feel any other way.

They were connected, Emma knew it and so did Killian. Whether they believed in the fates or not, there were just too many coincidences to prove their souls were anything but entwined. Emma could feel Killian all the time, his presence forever there, even when he was not. It calmed her a little to know she still felt him in the world, her heart beating in time with his wherever he happened to be, but her anxiety had been steadily growing as she awaited his return.

And it didn’t help that she was horny as hell.

When she finally heard the click of the door latch, Emma was on her feet and running to the door as fast as her legs would carry her. Killian had barely closed the door behind himself when he turned and was slammed into full force by Emma, all of the breath leaving his lungs from the impact as she jumped into his arms and wrapped her legs around his waist. Her hands were in his hair, her mouth sliding against his as he walked them back into the loft, hands cupping her behind and holding her aloft. There wasn’t an inch between their bodies, Emma flattening herself to his chest and moaning against his mouth when her nipples pebbled against the fabric of her blouse, her back arching for more friction and her mouth parting to invite his tongue inside of her own.

Killian’s mind was in a fog. Everything he had meant to tell her had disappeared the second he opened the door and was overpowered by her scent. Emma was everywhere, in every room and he was immediately turned on, his thoughts invaded by their antics earlier that day. He knew his anger from talking to his father would evaporate with her love, love he craved like the air he breathed. He had needed to touch her, needed to feel her, needed to see her, and now she was all over him, saying everything all at once without uttering a single word.

Killian’s legs hit the edge of Liam’s couch and he fell forward, dropping Emma from his grasp, her fingers scraping through Killian’s scruffy beard and her lips tearing from his. She just had the foresight to grab onto his belt, looping her finger behind the leather strap and pulling him with her, his arms flying out to stop his descent so he didn’t crush her. Killian clambered over the couch arm, a sly smirk across his lips as he captured her mouth once more, tongue begging for entry immediately. His hands found the edges of her blouse, buttons flying in all directions when he pulled the opposing sides apart. Emma squeaked in delight.

Eyes closed, her hands threaded through his beard once more; it was longer than when they had met, but not distracting from his stunning good looks one bit. Her fingers itched to touch his skin, but from her current position she was helpless, only able to find his elfish ears and give them a playful tug, her open mouth smile letting a short, salacious laugh escape against his. Killian raised an eyebrow, not breaking the kiss or opening his own eyes, not an ounce of distaste towards the way Emma was abusing his ears. In fact, he kind of liked it.

Killian awkwardly kicked off his boots, letting them fall to the floor beside the couch with the dull thudding sound of rubber against wood. Emma let her hands roam over his skull, fingertips dancing over the chords of his neck and across the width of his shoulders, his eager panting turning her on more than she had ever thought possible. Killian’s hands kneaded her bra clad breasts roughly, thumbs brushing over the hard buds beneath the padded lace and Emma hooked her bare feet into the back of his thighs in response.

Her hands found his belt, the clatter of metal the only sound they could hear other than their breathing, but as she tried to pull it open, Killian grabbed her hands. Emma was confused for a second, about to pull her mouth from his when, with a smirk, Killian raised her arms above her head and crossed them at her wrists, holding them both against the couch with one, powerful hand. Emma let out a little appeased sigh, her lungs screaming for the oxygen that invaded her chest when Killian slid his mouth from hers and began kissing her face.

He kissed her cheek, flushed red from her arousal, the flesh like lava under his lips. His kiss-swollen lips found her ear lobe and when he latched his mouth onto the bulb of flesh, all of the hair on Emma’s neck stood to attention and she arched off the couch with a moan. Her hands grabbed at his, trying to be free but not really at the same time because the sentiment it gave her to be controlled by a more dominant wolf was intoxicating. She bit her bottom lip, hips bucking up into his as he teased his lips down her neck and slid his searing hot tongue across her collarbone, gobbling up her bra strap with his teeth and pulling it over the curve of her shoulder.

Emma gasped, her nipples hardening even more in their padded confines, the material of her bra chafing against the peaks as she writhed and strained against his grip. She whimpered in her throat, swallowing a hard lump down that she had forgotten to until now. Her mouth tasted of Killian, the burn of second-hand rum hitting the heat in her stomach like a firework and igniting the throbbing sensation between her legs.

Finally, with his own guttural growl, Killian rolled his hips and ground his hardening length into the apex of Emma’s thighs. It was like a paradoxical relief for both of them, sating their needs only temporarily, both of them taking a second to let out a breathy sigh. Killian’s grip on Emma’s wrists tightened, his forehead resting against her shoulder as he fought to compose himself with a shudder after inhaling the smell of her skin.

“Exquisite,” Killian hummed, the taste of Emma dancing on his tongue.

Emma turned her head and pressed her lips to his forehead, the only part she could reach and Killian offered her a quick, wolfish grin as he followed the curve of her breast with his mouth, planting delicate kisses to her skin with each of her heaving breaths. He smirked against her skin when she whined in frustration, his nose dipping into the valley of her breasts and inhaling even more of her strong musk, the perspiration that had begun to form there transferring her pheromones directly to his senses.

“I am helpless when you are around, Emma,” Killian told her tenderly. “I could savour you forever.”

He took his time, dragging the tip of his nose across her breasts, from one to the other and back again, inhaling her, tasting her in his mouth from smell alone. He thrust his hips at her again, his other hand skimming down the side of her body until it reached her hip, pushing her into the cushions of the couch when she tried to buck her hips back at him. Emma pouted but then a devilish grin erupted on her face when Killian’s hand found his jeans and popped open the button, pushing his fly down and sighing with relief when his erection finally sprang free from the fold in his boxers.

“There’s my big boy,” Emma purred, tilting her head back up to meet his gaze and biting her lip hungrily. “So much for savouring,” she purred. Killian grinned, his tongue skimming over the ridges of his canines before he surged forward once more and kissed her hard. Emma felt her neck spasm from the force and she could feel the tingle of pins and needles down her elevated arms. Killian must have read her mind because no sooner had she shifted her weight beneath him to relieve the ache, Killian released her arms and moved both his hands to the waistband of her leggings.

“Mine,” he muttered against her lips, his tone dark and feral. It set Emma’s blood on fire and she was lifted effortlessly as he tugged her leggings and her underwear down in one go, his fingernails scraping the skin on her hip and making her cry out.

“I was getting worried,” Emma smirked playfully. “I was scared something had happened.”

“Hmm?” Killian hummed through a daze.

“You were gone so long,” Emma panted, frowning when she realised he had stopped undressing her.

In the next second, Killian was hit with a sudden remorse, remembering the information he had come back to relay to the half naked woman in front of him. The smell of Emma’s arousal, the sweetness like a refreshing, thirst quenching drink, pulled him in, clouding his mind. He was dizzy, drunk on the temptation between her legs already and with a frustrated growl and a last inhale, he stood and tried to ignore the pounding blood in his engorged member.

“What?” Emma asked quickly, concerned, propping herself up on her elbows. Her hair was a mess, wisps of flyaway blonde sticking out in all directions from static and her blouse hanging open loosely. “Killian, what is it?”

“I can’t,” Killian growled to himself, righting himself to his feet and turning from her with a blush. “I’m sorry,” he said softly, tucking himself back into his jeans and ignoring the way his erection still strained against his fly as he rebuttoned them.

“What happened?” Emma pried, pulling the edges of her blouse together to cover her bra. Her skin still buzzed from his touch, but something was wrong, something had happened and for a second she felt guilty about putting her own urges before anything else.

“I…” Killian began, his face turning into a grimace as he tried to will away Emma’s scent. It was everywhere, invading his nostrils like a temptation he feared he could not resist much longer.

Emma lifted her legs and moved to a sit, scooting to the edge of the couch cushion and reaching to the floor, pulling her leggings back on. They would never get any conversation finished like this, her so tightly wound and him even more so. She stood, raking her fingers through her tousled hair and shaking it over her shoulders, moving to him, feet silently padding across the wooden floor.

“Killian?” Emma whispered gently, her hands smoothing over the material of his shirt that covered his back. He gasped, tensing momentarily before he relaxed into her touch, her talented fingertips kneading the ripple of muscles on his shoulders. Emma pressed her lips to his back, the material of his shirt tickling her lips as she kissed his spine, her hands sliding down his arms and her fingers lacing with his. “It’s okay.”

“I can’t think straight,” he grumbled.

“It’s okay,” Emma repeated, soothing his self-directed anger as she wrapped her arms around his slender waist. “Have I worn you out?” She teased, pushing herself onto her tip toes and tucking her chin into the curve of his shoulder.

Killian’s laugh vibrated through her chest as she embraced him, his hands finding hers and holding her to him lovingly. “Not a chance,” he quipped. “I have something to tell you and I think it would be better received if we were clothed.”

“Oh?” Emma pulled back a little, heels hitting the floor with a thump as she arched her brow. “Will it lead to more enjoyable activities?” Emma teased, her smile lighting up her face only briefly before Killian turned in her arms and she felt the pang of sadness he was emitting.

“Not this time, love,” Killian admitted sadly. He took her hands in his, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles and watching the motion of his digits intently.

He was nervous, but more than that, he was petrified of the words he was about to say. Emma would want to return home to warn her family, he knew that much was a fact, but he wasn’t sure how she would react to the news that he had already decided to go with her. He knew it was a death sentence, his brother’s warnings had not fallen on deaf ears, but he didn’t care. All he cared about was Emma, his half of the moon, and making sure she stayed shining as bright as she could.

Killian knew, with all his heart, Emma’s light would burn out if her father died. It was why he was willing to sacrifice his own life for hers. His life for her happiness. Killian knew he would never forgive himself if he didn’t tell Emma about the plot to attack Misthaven. She had a right to know, to be given the chance to stop it, and he would be there, fighting at her side, regardless of if he were welcome or not.

“What is it?” Emma asked worried, searching his face. “Killian, you can tell me anything,” she assured him softly, her hand reaching up to trace the outline of his brow, easing the tension.

He let out a nervous laugh, avoiding her gaze again. “I’m not sure there is any easy way to say this,” he faltered, swallowing hard.

“Killian, you’re scaring me,” Emma said, her face paling.

“It’s Misthaven,” Killian said, the word on his tongue already like the seal on his fate. “Neverland plans to attack Misthaven. James means to kill your father, Emma.” Killian looked up finally, Emma’s pupils wide and the edges of her eyes watery with tears that threatened to spring from her eyelids.

“How do you know?” She managed weakly.

“My father,” Killian told her with a slight hint of aggression. “He is trying to make amends, prove he loves me,” Killian bit out, the term of endearment striking anger into his heart. Emma gave him a confused look, her head shaking a little as she tried to fathom his words. “It doesn’t matter,” Killian dismissed his rant with a shake of his head. “I came to tell you as soon as I found out.”

“When?” Emma managed, dazed with anxiety.

“We don’t know,” Killian admitted sadly.

“You don’t know?” Emma screeched, stepping from his embrace and running her hands through her hair. She paced away from him, Killian’s heart-shattering.

“My father is trying to find out,” Killian assured her, trying to appease her stress.

“Can we trust him?” Emma spun back to face him and he answered her with silence. He had been asking himself the same question all day. “He is a Neverland wolf, right? Why would he tell us something like this?”

“I can only assume he feels guilty,” Killian shrugged, moving towards her and catching her as she paced past him. He wrapped her up in his arms, holding her to his chest and that was all Emma needed for the dam of sorrow to burst, hot, fat tears spilling down her cheeks. She buried her face against Killian’s chest, clutching the material of his shirt, her hands shaking as sobs wracked her body.

“This is my fault,” she cried.

“What? Absolutely not!” Killian told her firmly. “This isn’t and will never be your fault, Emma, you hear me?” He pulled her from his chest, clutching her face in his hands and dipping his head until he caught her gaze. Emma clutched his hands to her face, suddenly child-like and weak, and Killian titled his head sideways sympathetically. “You hear me?” He repeated softly, offering her a twitch of a smile when she finally met his gaze.

Emma nodded. Killian had the ability to calm her instantly, smoothing out the tension in her bones with a single action. It could be his touch, or his smile but it was always him. Part of Emma’s sadness was the realisation that their romance was now no longer fun, the true nature of their dangerous liaison hitting her like a truck. If she wanted to stay with Killian, she could, but they would forever be looking over their shoulders for Walsh or the Neverland pack. If she returned to Misthaven she would have to do so alone and she wasn’t sure which option scared her the most.

“I can’t lose you,” Emma sniffed, her hand sliding from his and flattening over his chest. Killian’s heart was racing in his chest, she could feel it thundering against her palm, because he was thinking exactly the same thing.

“You won’t,” he said softly, his voice cracking.

“I have to go home,” Emma whimpered.

“I know,” Killian barely whispered back, his forehead resting against hers. She let out another heart wrenching cry and his closed his eyes, fighting back his own tears that would stain his face at any second. He took a breath, the air between their faces minimal and with shaky lips, tilted his head and planted a soft kiss to Emma’s lips. “I’m coming with you.”

“What? No!” Emma cried. Killian nodded, holding her forearms as she tried to step back away from him once more.

“I’m coming with you to help your father,” he told her, affirming the fear on her face.

“Killian…” Emma began, shocked.

“I know,” he said softly, licking his lips. “But I can’t let you go alone. When the time comes, I have to come with you.”

“But, my father.” Emma didn’t have to say anything else because they both knew what it meant for him to even set foot on Misthaven land, let alone show up with the heir on his arm.

“It will be okay,” Killian lied, forcing a weak smile. “Family is important. I can’t in good conscience risk yours knowing I could have done something.”

“So is love,” Emma said on a breathy sigh. “Our love is important.” Her lower lip trembled as she looked up to him with wide eyes, blurry and filled with tears that never seemed to end. Dark lines stained her face and Killian cupped her cheeks in his hands, brushing away the fallen droplets with his thumbs.

“Our love is the most important thing in my life,” Killian told her tenderly, fingers tucking some stray hairs behind her ear.

“So stay here,” Emma pleaded. “Please. I’ll come for you when I’ve warned my father.”

Killian appreciated her attempts at trying to find a solution, but he had already been over the scenarios a thousand times in his head, and there was no situation he could think of where David Nolan accepted him. Not a single one.

“We both know your father will never let you return to me,” Killian sighed sadly.

Emma’s sobs began again and she threw herself into his arms, hand finding the back of his head and pulling his face to hers. She crushed her lips to his fiercely, kissing him desperately as even more tears fell down her face. He kissed her back, his despair etched into his cheeks by his own tears, lips quivering against hers. There was so much emotion in their kiss but they moved slowly, lips sliding gently with passion, breaths hitching from their sobbing like they might never get another chance.

“He’ll kill you,” Emma whimpered, her voiced lace with the most sadness Killian had ever heard.

“He can try,” Killian teased lightly, his lips curving into a small smile. Emma pressed her mouth to his again, tongue tasting the seam of his lips, memorising the texture and feel of them against her own.

“Is this what the dream means?” Emma cried, breaking the kiss but pressing her face to his. “The names on the tombstones? Are they ours?” Killian brushed his knuckles down the side of her cheek, shaking his head.

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” Killian promised faithfully. “And I’ll be with you. Forever.”

“I love you,” Emma whispered on a sigh.

“And I you.” Killian kissed her again, long and slow, but he hated the fact that whilst he had promised he would always be with her, he didn’t know if he would be alive or just a memory in her heart.

[sylviegirly]

☾ㅤ⭒ . — 　 aid　/　27　/　she/her　/　tags & nav

— a personal blog and digital journal to reblog whatever fits my fancy and to dump thoughts out (or drop my own art here), I primarily run off an untagged queue and just tag fandom / oc stuff !

— please be aware there is adult content in terms of what i talk about or reblog. 18+ content is tagged as #nsfw and #usfw, content warnings are tagged as #content cw

— i am immensely low energy, as a warning, so interactions are sporadic, though i do often like ❤️ posts from people. as such, this is a low energy safe zone, there's no pressure to interact

— i have no particular boundaries/rules, just hard block to break mutuals; i'm pretty lax overall.

— I am an oc x canon shipper; my OC Sylvie (they/she pls!) kisses and holds hands with Zhongli. you can see more about them in their tag or in their toyhouse page. I do reblog my mutuals self/oc ships as well, but I do tag them with their ships names for filtering, and as #character ship.

— I am non-sharing and won't follow back doubles with prominent ships, or if you don't have a tag to filter even if it's a side ship, but I don't mind at all if non-moots interact!!!.

Other places you can find me / info hubs:

bluesky / twitter (🔒) / FR blog / resource blog / toyhouse / strawpage / neocities

Art related blogs:

tumblr / twitter / bluesky / commission carrd / vgen commissions

General interests:

genshin impact / honkai star rail / ffxiv / orv / mxtx's works (tgcf/mdzs/svsss) / baldur's gate 3 / dragon age & mass effect / fire emblem / ace attorney / pokemon / pmmm / transformers / bleach

[scarletfasinera]

Anyway it's that time again. Interact with this post in some way (liking, replying, reblogging & adding a comment, whatever fits into your blogging system) if it's OK for me to go through your blog and mass-queue a bunch of stuff. I have an untagged queue & I usually keep it full, but it's running low bc I haven't been a person recently