#ZaharaDessert Writes

[kmomof4]

It’s HERE!!!!

Today is the day I’ve been waiting for FOR MONTHS!!! The day @zaharadessert posts this years CSSNS fic and I get to post the artwork I made to accompany it!!!

The fic is all kinds of hot… the right kind of hot, not the bad kind of hot we have to deal with in the summertime… and it also makes bloodthirsty Krystal VERY happy.

So everyone go read it and be sure to give Zahara all the love she deserves!!!

Ao3 link

[zaharadessert]

Sacrificial Lamb

for CSSNS 2023

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: cultism, demons, kidnapping

Length: ~6k

Summary: Princess Emma of Misthaven's coming out ball does not go as expected

Notes: Thank you so much to @kmomof4 for both betaing and making me art! It's awesome! Also thank you to the @cssns mods for running this event again.

Tagging: @kmomof4 @teamhook @winterbaby89 @jonesfandonfanatic @undercaffinatednightmare @anmylica @elfiola @booksteaandtoomuchtv @tiganasummertree @motherkatereloyshipper @xarandomdreamx @myfearless-love @lfh1226-linda @pawshapedheart

Also on AO3

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Emma’s head felt foggy, and she was shivering with cold.

As she opened her eyes, they struggled to comprehend the space through the darkness around her.

She felt weak, as though she wasn’t in control of her own body, but she tried to sit up. The harsh wooden bench beneath her dug into her hips and snagged at the delicate white lace of her gown.

She blinked in confusion as her hair shifted around her shoulders. It had been coiffed to perfection, hadn’t it?

The last thing she remembered was dancing with the Captain of the Guard at her coming out ball…

But then the memories started to filter in.

The windows shattering and covering the entire ballroom with coloured glass.

Dozens of figures in black cloaks almost floating across the floor as they overtook the room. One, wearing a robe edged in gold, pushing through the main doors and making their way directly towards her. A hand flashing out to freeze everyone else where they stood. Her parents eyes darting frantically between them as they met in the middle of the room, Graham’s sword frozen in place, half drawn in her defence.

Her own magic sparking to life in her palms. And then…

Powder blown in her face, making her stumble and sway before her eyes fell closed and she hit the floor.

That was why the hard bench hurt so much.

She swung her feet to the floor, drawing them back from the cold stone with a hiss at the feeling of ice-cold stone beneath her feet. Her shoes had been removed, as had several layers of petticoats, causing the layers of skirt to tangle around her legs and making the material far too long. It was now nothing more than a cumbersome mess rather than an elegant sweep of fabric.

It was then, too, that she noticed the jangle of chains, connecting her feet to one end of the bench and her wrists to the other.

The echo of footsteps started to float through the air towards her, but she couldn’t tell from where.

She sat up on the bench as best she could, and concentrated on finding her magic so that she could free herself and get out of here before the men in cloaks- because she couldn’t imagine who else would be walking down here right now- came back.

But nothing happened.

She couldn’t feel anything more than an itch under her skin.

The footsteps got louder, closer, and Emma started to yank frantically at the chains.

With the nearing footsteps came a glow of light, illuminating a long rocky corridor with moisture glistening on the walls. It crept closer, highlighting the uneven walls and the hoods of the cloaks that bobbed as the people contained within walked.

She could feel panic start to rise in her chest, pushing away the remaining fog from the enchanted sleep the powder had put her into.

The light flickered and danced, torches held above the heads of the procession.

“What is the meaning of this?” Emma snapped as the figures started to surround her.

The figure in the gold-trimmed cloak walked right up to her, his face shadowed from view, but his hand reached out, fingers pale and cold as they clasped her chin, turning her face this way and that.

“Yes, the Demon we seek should be very pleased with you, Princess,” he said, his voice as cold as his fingers. “It will be a delight to watch him devour your virgin soul in return for the resurrection of the Dark One.”

Emma’s eyes widened in horror. She’d heard tales of the Dark One her whole life. Everything she knew about magic cast him as the cautionary tale in how high a price it required. She’d heard, too, about the cult that had sprung up in his absence, the men obsessed with returning Darkness to the realm.

“No!” she cried, pulling her face out of his grip and struggling against the chains once more, doing her best to summon her magic but only feeling a fire start to burn under her skin which made her cry out in pain.

“Your magic will do you no good down here. There is too much darkness, no true light can survive. Not for long, anyway.”

He flicked his hand at the chains, which released themselves from the bench. The ones attached to her ankles formed a shorter chain between them that would allow her to walk. The ones around her wrists snaked up over her shoulders and met around her neck.

The man pulled her to her feet by yanking on her arm which tightened the chain around her neck noticeably as she struggled to stand.

“You will walk.”

Emma scoffed. “To willingly assist you in returning Darkness to this realm? Never.”

Another twist of his hand and the chain between her wrists started to shrink, drawing her hands up towards her throat. The chain tightened around her neck, making her choke as she struggled to breathe. She could feel her eyes starting to bulge. Emma sank to her knees, clawing at her neck, and shivering even more as her head swam with dizziness.

Suddenly, the chains lengthened and she could breathe again.

“Do as you are told, and I’ll make this relatively painless. And the Dark One might even spare your kingdom for your assistance in his return. Get up.”

Emma realised that there was no way to fight this, not now. She would have to wait.

She struggled to stand. The long skirt of her dress, now wet with the damp filth from the floor, was heavy in her hands as she lifted it to allow her to walk.

Hands closed around her upper arms, guiding her through the torchlit gloom, preventing her from slipping on the slick ground.

They entered a chamber, rocky walls painted black with gold symbols, the same as adorned the hem of the golden edged cloak.

In the centre was a large stone altar, and Emma found herself lifted onto it, the chains at her wrists and ankles moving as commanded to secure her to it.

She struggled and cried out in protest but there was nothing to be done. The chill of the stone crept into her body. She could feel it sapping her strength and making it harder to concentrate on fighting what was being done, stealing away the hope in her heart.

All her parents had done to train her to protect herself, and… it was all she could do to lay there. Like the pathetic damsel in the stories princes and knights loved to tell.

Despair joined the fear encasing her heart as the cultists moved around her, painting more symbols on the floor.

Emma’s eyes flicked frantically around her, looking for anything to help her escape.

The cult leader arranged her dress- making the sleeves lie perfectly around the chains- splayed her hair around her head in a fan of gold, and smoothed down the wrinkles in the dirtied lace. Every time she tried to move the chains tightened a little more. He rounded the altar and stood by her head, drawing from the depths of his cloak a distinctive dagger, the edge curving wickedly like waves and held it over her body. He started to chant and she struggled against the chains until she couldn’t hold back the tears of pain any longer.

She let them fall, the heat of them almost burning her cold skin as she let out one desperate whisper as she closed her eyes.

“Please, help me.”

Emma didn’t know who she was asking or what the chanting around her meant. All she knew was that as much as she thrived on being able to save herself most of the time, she couldn’t help herself this time and her parents wouldn’t have any idea where she was. They’d been trying to rid the realm of the cult of the Dark One for years and they’d never found them. It was most unlikely they’d be able to do so now, even with the added motivation of finding her. They could still be frozen in the ballroom for all she knew.

She felt the soft, hot tracks of her tears across her face before they splashed on the stone.

Blinding pain radiated up her arms as knives sliced into her skin, burning as blood started to pour into the grooves on the table, staining her dress immediately as the tears, too, turned into a flood.

Emma screamed in agony and defiance.

But through the pain she felt a soft weight on her head and at her waist, a warmth gently passing over her hair.

“Fear not, My Queen. All will be well,” a voice like liquid velvet intoned softly next to her ear.

Her head started to swim as the blood drained out of her body, but with each weakening heartbeat, the hand on her head and at her waist felt more real.

“Can’t save…” she whispered back, shaking her head. “Dark One…” she tried again, needing him to understand.

“Isn’t that why you called on me?” the voice replied, and now she could feel breath across her shoulder and cheek as he spoke.

Emma forced her eyes to open and she looked up into brilliant blue fire. They were his eyes, of course, but in her drowsy state she could have sworn they danced with real fire. His gaze filled her with warmth, and she blinked lazily as she smiled up at him. She’d never looked into a face like his before and she found herself immediately entranced by his dark beauty.

The chanting stopped, and cries of joy rang against the walls instead.

“Who are you?” she breathed, as he wiped the tears from her cheeks with fingers that almost burned her skin with their heat.

“Foul Demon, I have summoned you…”

The demon, Emma now had the wherewithal to notice the horns poking out of the top of his head, looked up at the cultist still holding the knife over Emma’s head.

“Who summoned?” he asked coldly, and Emma felt his thumb ghosting over the wound on one of her arms, could feel warmth creeping back into her limbs as her heart started to beat a little surer once more.

“We cast the spell, we sacrificed…”

“I think you’ll find it’s her blood on the table, but interestingly, it wasn’t that which summoned me.”

“I command you to resurrect the Dark One in exchange for this sacrificed soul!”

The demon sighed and looked down at Emma. “I’m sorry, My Queen. Explaining this gross incompetence might take a moment,” he told her apologetically.

“Can’t go anywhere…” She breathed sleepily.

The demon grinned roguishly, and with four deft flicks of his clawed fingers he shattered the chains holding her down, but Emma still didn't have the strength to move. The demon sat down on the altar beside her, his fingers now trailing over the wound on her other arm and healing that one, too.

“Now, I’ve seen some truly ridiculous cults in my time, but you lot? You really do take the biscuit,” he drawled. “Firstly, this altar accepts any liquid, and you let her cry, which hit the table before her blood. So. As you were intending to use the blood, she used her own tears to summon me. Secondly, if you’d wanted her blood to work you had to partake of it somehow, because even if her blood had worked to summon the demon you intended to summon, she’d still have had control over it. Lastly, and most importantly, you’ve ended up saddled with the demon responsible for condemning the Dark One to the deepest, darkest depths of hell where his mortal soul will face its darkest fears for eternity. So… do you really think I’m going to be the one to let him out? All in all, you’ve gone and fucked this up royally…” He glanced down at Emma and grinned. “With a very pretty royal, too,” he added, and she shivered as his eyes looked her over and part of her wished she had the strength to do something to hide herself. But then his gaze flicked back to the cult leader and darkened with anger once more, his casual, instructive tone fading into menacing darkness. “So, while I appreciate the effort to find me such a delectable offering, I’m afraid… You’ve hurt My Queen…”

Emma watched as demonic darkness overtook his features. His skin turned red and his eyes turned to flame and the reality of the world around them seemed to crack as he rose to his feet, growing in height, muscles bulging, forked tail whipping back and forth in anger as a language of darkness rolled off now black lips and tongue. The long coat he wore furled out into enormous black wings which sliced the two closest cultists in half, exposing his muscled chest and drawing her gaze despite her predicament. Flame speared out of previously nonexistent slices in the very air, wrapping around the cultists and setting them aflame as he sat up and grabbed the cult leader around the throat.

“So I’m afraid it’s your souls I’ll be consuming in her name.”

The man seemed to burn alive from the inside, screaming in agony until he exploded in a shower of embers that made Emma flinch.

The demon turned back to her, his features fading back to the handsome, tempting human she’d first seen when she’d opened her eyes.

She felt a sob of relief, of gratitude rising in her chest despite the fact that she was now slightly terrified of her saviour.

He settled himself back on the side of the altar and pulled her to him, cradling the back of her head and running his hand up and down her spine, his warmth seeping into her and bringing her back to shivering rather than weakly numb with the cold.

“Fear not, My Queen. You are safe now,” he said, soothingly.

For some reason, Emma believed him, and allowed herself to sob into his shoulder as she let the fear that had plagued her since the moment the windows in the ballroom shatter subside.

“What’s your name?” she asked quietly.

The demon seemed to stiffen in surprise.

“Demon or not,” Emma reasoned as she pulled back, “I should like to know the name of my rescuer so that he may be properly acknowledged.”

The demon looked suddenly unsure of himself.

“You may not think so kindly of me in a few moments,” he replied, sounding almost sad about it.

“You were part of the vanquishing of the Dark One, and you just saved me from helping bring him back,” she pressed.

“Aye,” he replied, his voice strained.

“There are conditions to your summoning that I am unaware of,” she replied. It was a statement, not a question and he nodded in confirmation.

“The altar may not be fussy, but I’m afraid Demonic Law is,” he replied carefully.

“You still need blood.” He nodded again but she sensed there was more. “My blood.”

“I’m sorry,” he replied again. And despite his being a demon, she believed him.

“So I still have to die?” she asked, shrinking back from him a little.

“Ay…” The response had been on the tip of his tongue, but he suddenly pulled back, rising to his feet and pacing.

Emma watched him curiously as he muttered to himself, reciting something in the dark tongue she’d heard him use before. The way his lips curled around the words made her squirm a little on the cold stone and she shivered once again, the absence of his heat allowing the chill of the stone to creep back into her bones.

“Apologies, My Queen,” he said briskly, returning to her side and encouraging her to lean against him.

“Emma,” she said with a sigh as she rested her head on his shoulder. “Princess Emma of Misthaven.”

“Ah, then… I daresay no one is going to like the alternative much better,” he said as his fingers trailed up and down her arm, making her hum in contentment. He smelled amazing, far more appealing than anyone- let alone a demon- had a right to. She let herself breathe it in, getting a little lost in it.

“What is it?” she asked. Her voice sounded dreamy and sultry, even to her own ears.

“Your Highness, don’t do that.”

“Do what?” she asked, lifting her head to look into his eyes.

“Make it harder for me to not claim what I am owed without explaining myself first,” he managed to grind out through gritted teeth. There was no anger in his words, only a possessive spark in his eyes as he looked her over.

Emma straightened her spine, her eyes wide and startled as her breath stuttered in her throat. “I… I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” he replied with a warm smile. “The other option to spilling your blood and claiming your soul for hell now, since I have fulfilled the task you summoned me for, is to take an… alternative virgin blood.”

Emma felt her cheeks heat immediately with embarrassment and she looked away.

He hooked his finger under her chin, and looked into her eyes.

“I understand what this would mean in human terms, but you would need to understand this in demonic terms. We would be bound to each other. I would relinquish my immortal calling and live by your side as your protector and… lover… until your soul and your mortal body part ways. At which point, we will return to hell, and you are bound to me for eternity.”

He was being honest, that much she could tell.

“But that isn’t always the case, is it? I mean… don’t demons regularly defile virgins?” she asked hesitantly, not wanting to offend him.

He chuckled, low and deep and it rumbled in his chest making her breath catch.

“It’s complicated. But most cults realise that virgin blood simply means from a vessel that has never been used for a sacrifice before,” he explained.

Emma frowned, looking down at the hands clasped in her lap. “But then… my blood wouldn’t work that way, anyway.”

“Technically, their ritual was not completed so your blood remains viable. I could still just kill you. But Princess, you’re far too lovely to waste on such a thing when I can have you for eternity…” His tone was laced with hunger that made a shiver run down her spine. He leaned in, his breath ghosting over her neck again and making goosebumps rise across her skin. “Let me seduce you, My Queen. I promise you won’t be disappointed in the result. We’ll rule your kingdom together, you light magic balancing out my darkness and when we get back to hell you can torture every soul who ever hurt those you care for into madness.”

Even his offer was seductive, and Emma’s eyes slid closed, her head tilting away from his, almost offering him her neck. His forked tongue flicked out to caress the shell of her ear and she gasped, her eyes snapping open as she pulled back just a little. She could feel her heart hammering in her chest.

“I smell good, don’t I? Your body knows what we could have. It’s a rare opportunity. Not everyone can even hope to make this attempt. You are unique, Emma. I can feel your soul calling out to mine and it’s taking everything in me not to claim it.”

She could feel it too, the want, the need to let him have what should have been promised to the prince of another kingdom. Something she should be guarding with more fervour than her own life. But who was there to stop her? There was no other heir to the kingdom, if she died today…

“My kingdom will need an heir,” she found herself muttering.

“Then we’ll give them more than enough to pick from,” he promised without hesitation.

“They’ll be… human?”

“As much as it matters. Like I said, my darkness and your light will create a balance within them. They will likely have magic as you do, and they may be stronger than other humans, live longer, I mean. But… is that such a curse?”

Emma absorbed this. Why she was asking him this, turning this into some kind of negotiation she wasn’t entirely sure, but here they were. She needed to think of her kingdom and not let the need singing in her blood overpower her just yet.

“Tell me your name,” she replied, looking up at him, determinedly.

He raised an eyebrow at her.

“I’m not going to agree to eternity with someone who won’t even tell me their name,” she declared, almost haughtily.

“If I tell you my name…?”

Emma held his gaze, and smiled. It was small, almost seductive.

“Then I shall be yours. For eternity.”

“My name is Killian Jones,” he told her, in a way that suggested he hadn’t spoken it aloud in a very long time.

“Be gentle with me, Killian,” she requested, suddenly nervous.

With a groan, Killian hooked a finger under her chin once more and tilted her head up, bringing his lips to meet hers.

Emma felt a rush in the pit of her stomach as the warmth of his lips brushed hers and her eyes slid closed.

His hands moved to cradle her face, holding her exactly where he wanted her as his lips caressed hers, pulling back and changing angles, guiding her as his fingers threaded back into her hair. His lips peppered kisses across her cheek and down onto her neck.

Her eyes snapped open as she gasped at the sensation sparking through her entire body. Her hands curled around the lapels of his now returned coat, soft leather and velvet warm under her palms.

One hand moved around to her back, hand splaying across her spine and pulling her into his lap where she shuddered at the way his warmth seemed to wrap round her. Her own hand moved, threading into his hair, silky and soft and she pulled back a little to look at him again, breathing ragged, chest heaving, before she pulled his lips back to hers, moaning softly as he responded with a groan that made her core clench with need.

She kissed him harder now, taking back a little control and letting instinct take over.

The sticky dampness of her skirt forgotten, pain wiped from her mind, Emma kissed him like her life depended on it. He responded by holding her tighter against him and she could have sworn her skin was burning where the lace of her dress was thinner.

And then she felt calloused fingers on her back, not having noticed that he’d been undoing the delicate buttons down the back of her dress. She gasped as she pulled back to look at him, eyes wide and unsure.

“Don’t back out now, Darling. I don’t think I could restrain myself,” he said, his tone soft but his eyes full of dark promise.

Her core clenched again at his words. “I’m not, I…” she swallowed, trying to gather words that could explain. “Touch me more,” she requested, shyly.

“Gladly.” He grinned back at her.

A sweep of his arm and a twist of his claws tore the encumbrance of the sodden lace from her legs. Winding his other arm around her waist, he lifted her just enough that it slipped from her form and onto the floor, leaving her more exposed in front of a man that she had ever been in her life and she found herself revelling in the thrill of it.

He set her down so that she was straddling his thighs, exposing her and making her flush with excitement and self-consciousness in equal measure. His fingers barely grazed her thigh, but it felt like a spark of magic across her skin.

“More, My Queen?” he asked, and she could hear the smirk in his voice before she even looked up at his face.

The moment she met his gaze, his fingers started a teasing dance across her skin and she couldn’t help but moan, her eyes falling shut and her head falling back into his hand, just waiting to cradle her head.

“Such perfect, delicate skin…” he murmured, watching as his claws raised red lines on her pale flesh, and she whimpered at the hint of pain through the burning pleasure she was already feeling. His hand splayed over her thigh, gripping and squeezing as his other hand slipped down from her neck to continue to unbutton the back of her dress.

“That’s it Darling, let me hear you,” he murmured just before his lips found her neck once more. Kissing down towards her collarbone, his pointed teeth grazed her skin, always followed quickly by the soothing heat of his tongue.

And Emma gladly sang the pleasure of it towards the ceiling of the dim cavern, moans and cries and gasps spilling from her lips until the dance of his fingers ran through the slickness between her legs. Her hand twisted in his hair, making him hiss in pain and growl, delivering a slightly sharper nip to the skin of her shoulder.

“I won’t be able to be gentle with you if you can’t reciprocate, Darling,” he told her, firmly, speaking right into her ear and nipping at her earlobe.

Emma responded with a moan and a roll of her hips that had his fingers brushing that spot again. “Killian, please,” she whimpered.

“Do you really think I’m going to stop?” he questioned with a chuckle. “Oh, Princess, you have no idea just how much I have in store for you.”

“Show me,” she replied breathily.

“As you wish…” That was all he said before his head dipped, his teeth catching the neckline of her dress and twisting his head to tear the lace and the silk chemise from her chest, exposing her corset.

Emma shivered as the cool air of the cavern hit her skin, but the cold didn’t last for long as Killian’s lips found the tops of her breasts, kissing, licking, sucking and nipping as her chest heaved with panted breaths and the fingers below started to caress in earnest.

Her hips rolled into his fingers, her back arched to bring her chest to meet his mouth and the angle caused her corset to slip just enough that the next sweep of Killian’s tongue wrapped around her nipple.

Emma bucked in his arms, and as he growled with want, his assault of pleasure on her body was renewed. He seemed intent to torment her with it, to ensure that she thought of nothing else ever again other than the next time he could put his hands on her body.

With every sweep of his tongue or caress of his fingers, Emma was sure this was it, that it could not get any better. But with every frantic beat of her heart, he proved her wrong. She was babbling incoherently while he murmured encouragements into her skin. Emma didn’t think she would ever tire of hearing his velvety dark voice telling her how beautiful and perfect she was, that she was made for this, for him. He was relentless and determined, and she didn’t care how wanton she might look, all she wanted was for him to keep going, to drive her higher, to…

“Come for your demonic prince, My Queen,” he commanded, his lips just below her ear, pressing a kiss to her pulse point before dropping back to wrap around her nipple, sucking hard as his tongue flicked over it just right.

And then her whole body seemed to freeze in place, stars dancing behind her eyes as her muscles started to tremble and he pulled her more securely into his arms, his lips now caressing her hairline, his murmurs calming, soothing, reassuring.

She let herself breathe into his neck, shallow breaths coming out on satisfied hums as each muscle in her body seemed to relish in the slow drift back from the peak of her pleasure.

“That was…”

“Remarkable to behold, but we’re far from done,” he promised.

“I’m not that naive,” she protested, pulling back to frown up at him. Okay, so she’d never been told details, but animals did the deed, too, and…

“Is that so?” he asked with a raised eyebrow that made her eyes narrow even more. “Then would you like to tell me what I plan on doing with my tongue, next?”

Emma flushed scarlet and dropped his gaze. With a soft chuckle he hooked a finger under her chin once more and made her look into his eyes.

“I’m going to lick your pussy clean, and then I’m going to make a mess of you all over again,” he promised, his hand dropping from her chin to press the fabric of her dress into the wetness still dripping from her.

Emma whimpered, her eyes sliding closed and blushing even harder.

“Fuck, you’re so responsive,” he praised, pressing a kiss to her lips. “It’s intoxicating.”

“Am I?” she murmured back, her lips blindly chasing his for another kiss.

“Let me taste you, Emma,” he replied, nudging her nose with his own before capturing her lips again. His tongue pressed them apart to caress hers and she welcomed him into her mouth with a moan.

“I take it that’s not how you meant?” she queried when he ended the kiss with a soft peck to the tip of her nose.

He shook his head with a salacious grin. “Lie back for me.”

Emma looked over her shoulder at the stained and bloody table before looking back at him.

But it seemed she didn’t even have to voice her discomfort at that idea, and with a roll of his shoulders, the leather vanished from under her fingers and was once again transformed into wings which curled around her and easily took her weight as she sank back into their warmth with a hum of contentment.

The intensity with which he looked down at her was like nothing she’d ever experienced before and it made her blush.

He grinned. It was toothy, and hungry and it was only a moment before he leaned in, pulling the soiled white dress from her body as he kissed his way over each revealed inch of skin. He pushed apart her bare thighs and she squirmed under the heat of his gaze as he licked his lips salaciously before lowering his head, his eyes meeting hers as he brought his tongue to her core.

It was Emma that broke eye contact with him as her back arched with pleasure and her eyes closed with the potency of it. The heat of his tongue was like nothing she’d ever imagined. The graze of his fingers on her thighs was intoxicating. She could feel the vibrations of words she couldn’t hear through the rush of blood in her ears, could feel the hoarseness of her voice increasing with cries that she couldn’t comprehend.

He built her up quicker this time, the feelings so overwhelming she could feel her consciousness wavering. She could feel herself teetering on the brink of an abyss that part of her longed to welcome, but he kept licking, caressing, sucking on her until she came back to herself with another wave of pleasure as he shifted above her. His mouth found hers, kissing her hard and then she became aware of a slight burn and pressure down where his tongue had been.

Her eyes snapped open as she squeaked with the discomfort, building towards pain. “Relax, My Queen, the pain will be over soon,” he purred into her ear. “Let it happen,” he encouraged, his fingers finding her clit once more and making her back arch.

She felt him slip further in, and then something inside her seemed to break and she cried out at the sensation. She didn’t know if it was pain or pleasure in that moment but she had never felt so full.

Above her, he let out a strangled groan, his muscles tense as his eyes fell shut for a moment before they snapped open, burning with blue fire once more.

“Mine,” he growled.

“Yes,” she choked out. “Killian…”

He kissed her again, and started to move. It burned slightly, but with each thrust of his hips the discomfort turned to pleasure and she found herself moving with him, meeting his hips with her own as her legs curled around his waist.

He littered her neck with kisses and nips as she cried out his name into the darkness around them. She embraced the peak of her pleasure once more, fingers tight in his hair, lips sealed against his as she tried to keep herself moving for him, so that he could finally join her.

“This will be a little hot…” he warned as his thrusts sped up, hips stuttering a little before Emma felt a rush of heat inside her. It was strange, but she fell in love with the feeling, knowing she would want more of it before long.

“I feel so…” she started, searching for the right word to convey everything. There would never be anything like this, wrapped in his arms, filled with his seed, feeling his breath across her neck. “Complete,” she settled on.

Killian raised his head and smiled down at her, brushing his nose against hers.

“Incredible,” he murmured, shifting to pull out of her. Emma felt the flood of his spent leave her body and he glanced down, shifting his wings to let the mix of his cum and her blood fall onto the altar. “And now all immortal planes are satisfied, as well as us,” he said, looking back up at her.

With the sweat cooling on her skin, Emma felt suddenly self-conscious and looked away.

“Regretting me already, Princess?”

Emma’s eyes snapped back up to his face, to find disgust starting to settle in his features. She reached up and brushed the tips of her fingers across his brow.

“No, I… I’m sore… and almost naked with a demon, and… I don’t know what to…”

“Your demon,” he corrected, a hint of a smile starting to curve at his lips. “We can be completely naked, if you would prefer? Or maybe you’ll make me wait for a human wedding night to have that final prize?” he teased, making her blush all over again.

“I can’t go back home without a corset. I’m already severely lacking in the rest of my attire,” she reasoned, embracing the chance at levity.

“Well, for the moment, that is a sacrifice I am happy to watch you endure,” he commented, taking a good look, his fingers tracing the edge of her corset.

“You’re incorrigible,” she commented with a sigh. “But I really would like to get out of here if that’s all the same to you.”

“We’ll find you some clothes on the way out.” He offered his hand to help her sit up, gathering her into his arms.

“Just get me out of here, and I can summon something from home,” she said with a smile as she laid her head against his chest.

“As you wish, My Queen,” he replied as he stood from the altar, wings melting back into his leather coat. Shadows curled up around them as the cavern melted away, but even once they were out in the open again, there was no chill strong enough to reach her. Not with her demon by her side.

[anmylica]

Fly With the Black Swan

Chapter Two: The Avalanche

Tagging the Usual Crew: @kmomof4 @snowbellewells @sotangledupinit @tiganasummertree @zaharadessert @xarandomdreamx @whimsicallyenchantedrose @deckerstarblanche

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Read more under the cut (unless Tumblr ate it)!

Their arrival in the tiny port town came late at night. After settling the matter of docking and arranging shore leave for the majority of his crew, save the skeleton shift for the night watch, Hook met with a handful of his most trusted sailors to plan for their reconnaissance trip. After staying awake for way too long that evening making plans, they agreed to set out the following morning in order to rest and gather supplies. The North Mountains were known to be cold and snowy all year long, so Hook and his crew would need to be prepared.

“Make sure that a skeleton crew mans the ship at all times,” Hook repeated to Mister Bones, the second mate, who was to stay with the ship and watch over her. He had already made sure to stress this order to the man, and Mister Bones clearly was weary of hearing Hook’s insistence, nodding his head and waving his hand in the air. Hook ignored the man’s dramatics, well used to the man’s mannerisms due to how long they had sailed together on this ship. “Arrange for shifts each day. I don’t want to come back to the Jolly Roger commandeered by someone else.”

“Aye, sir,” Mister Bones nodded exasperatedly for the upteenth time. Finally satisfied that his ship would be taken care of, Hook turned his attention to the rest of the preparations. He knew his ship would be in good hands with the second mate for all his nagging. Mister Bones had come on as a member of his crew shortly after Hook’s turn to piracy, and he had been loyal ever since. Hook spared no more thought to the matter as he made way into town to arrange for transportation of some sort and the necessary supplies.

The morning had dawned bright, a perfect cloudless day with a comfortable wind that belied the coldness that awaited them as they climbed into the mountainscape of the Diamond Peaks range. They had arranged for horses to take them through the valleys, and the band of pirates collected their mounts from the local stable, a small structure that barely had enough extra horses to lend to the men. Hook had made sure that the owner of the stables would be compensated fairly as a result.

Once they collected their mounts, they made haste for the Emerald Pine Pass, the road through the mountain range that would hopefully lead him to the next step in his revenge. The crew of six plus their captain were in good spirits, singing sea shanties and telling jokes at each other’s expense (especially Smee’s) as they started the first leg of their journey. Starkey, a tall, wiry pirate who served as Hook’s master gunner, told bawdry jokes the entire time. Black Murphy, an older man from the Tolou province of Northern Wei, joined in with Starkey, egging him on.

Damien Salt and John Turk, both from Tirulia, spent their time reminiscing about previous fights they won at taverns they had all been patrons at in the past. One Eyed Jack rode silently alongside Smee, occasionally correcting details in any of the stories told by their accompanying party members. Hook led the pack, slightly ahead of the others, but close enough to laugh and chime in with remembered details of his own. His revenge was never far from his mind, so he was more subdued than his compatriots.

Their journey through the Emerald Pine Pass was slow. Snow banks that hadn’t yet melted in the sun frequently cut off parts of the road, and so their horses had to wade through it. Because of this, they had to pause to take frequent breaks to warm the animals and make sure they were taken care of during the voyage. Other than these minor annoyances, the trip had begun without a hitch. That should have been Hook’s first clue that things were about to go awry.

Their good fortune with the balmy, mild weather didn’t hold up. As they slowly climbed in elevation, the temperature dropped. Hook began to grow more and more concerned at the weather conditions, worrying as to whether he and his men could carry on with their already slow pace. Each day brought worse and worse conditions. As the temperature dropped more and more, Hook recalled how some of the locals had spoken of the quickly changing weather and of how sudden snow storms uncommon for the warmer seasonal months could sometimes sporadically appear. He hoped this was just a fluke and the temperatures would begin to warm again, but his hope was to be vain. On the sixth day of the otherwise boring journey, a blizzard came through the area, covering everything in a blanket of snow and whiting out the pass. Hook and his crew had no choice but to hunker down and wait it out.

“A bloody menace these storms are,” Starkey complained around a feeble fire, shivering as he held a thick fur blanket around his shoulders.

“Aye, the deserts of Agrabah are a tropical paradise compared to this,” Damien Salt sneered, holding out a piece of hardtack on a long stick over the fire in an attempt to thaw it out.

“I think I’d take a typhoon,” Starkey shot back, clenching the fur blanket tighter around his wiry frame.

“At least we have shelter,” Smee said, pointing to their makeshift tent, the only thing protecting them from the worst of the elements. “And we can sing songs to pass the time.”

The group collectively groaned, for singing shanties had gotten old after the third day. John Turk and Black Murphy threw pieces of hardtack at their first mate, who crouched and flinched to try and avoid being pelted. Hook sighed but said nothing, continuing to sip from his rum flask that has refilled itself since the last time he had corked it closed. For as much as he hated most magic with a passion, he had to once again thank the gods for his foresight in having the bottle enchanted to always refill itself. He was going to need every drop being stuck here with this lot.

One Eyed Jack rolled his eyes and got up to brave the conditions to check on the horses rather than stick around for Smee’s usual false cheer. Hook ignored them all as they carried on with their antics, double-checking his calculations for how far they still had to go. He hoped the weather would move on and allow them to carry on with their journey. He sipped his flask of rum as he did so, finding that the warmth from the rum made the temperature in the tent almost pleasant.

The rest of the men eventually broke out a deck of cards and proceeded to play a few rounds of five card poker to pass the time. The storm outside grew worse and worse as the evening proceeded and night fell. They all fell into an uneasy sleep at different points in the night, save for a couple left to keep watch. By establishing shifts, they were able to keep their fire going even through the raging storm. Each one checked on the horses at the start of their watches, so there would hopefully be no problems in setting out once the storm passed.

It was just Hook’s luck that the storm lasted three long, miserable days. As petty arguments began to break out that he would have to quell, he began contemplating just how lost he could get in the melee if he left their sorry arses there. After the latest squabble between Starkey and Smee about going to fetch more firewood, Hook rolled his eyes and drank more from his flask, thankful once again that he had had it enchanted to never run out long before his sojourn to Neverland. He vowed to keep up a steady buzz so as to be able to better tune out the bickering of his crew.

The morning after the blizzard finally blew itself out dawned clear and bright, much like their first day in Sapphire Springs. The light off the snow was blinding in these early hours. Hook applied a new layer of kohl to try and help with the glare, but it did little to actually help. Smee, Starkey, Black Murphy, One Eyed Jack, Damien Salt, and John Turk all followed suit with their own kohl, grumbling and griping all the while about not having warm enough clothes and lamenting that they hadn’t stayed behind on the ship.

The group quickly broke camp after a hasty breakfast of hardtack and cured meats, not wanting to linger long in these colder conditions. The group were mostly silent as they packed their belongings into the saddlebags of their horses, tamping their feet and rubbing their hands as they blew into their cupped fists, trying to keep the cold at bay as they did so.

Black Murphy glanced around warily as he tightened the straps on his saddle. “It’s mighty warm today,” he muttered, his breath coming out in foggy clouds. “Much warmer than it was yesterday.”

“Thank the gods for that,” Damien Salt sneered. “Maybe my hands won’t fall off before I get back to the ship.”

“Your hands were already gonna fall off, Salty,” wheezed One Eyed Jack. “What with all your time in front of the forges repairing our cutlasses.”

“Aye, and if you lot would be more careful about breakin’ ‘em, I wouldn’t have to lose any appendages,” Salt laughed. “No offense, Captain,” he added with a respectful nod of his head.

Hook shrugged the comment off, much like he did the cold conditions they were in. “None taken. Are we all ready?”

A chorus of “Ayes” rang out from the others, and he mounted his horse, tugging his duster closed tight once he was settled in the saddle. “Then let’s shove off. We might not have much time before the next snow storm comes and cuts off the pass entirely.”

The others nodded and mounted their horses as well. They began riding through the snow, their horses trudging along through the thick drifts. As the morning progressed, the day grew warmer and warmer, much to the relief of the crew. They had settled into a companionable silence, speaking only briefly as they moved steadily forward. They ate more hardtack and cured meat whilst on the move around noon.

Shortly after they had finished their meal, a soft thump echoed through the mountain air. Smee looked around in concern, having been the one of the group paying the most attention to their surroundings.

“What was that?” Smee asked. The others listened, but the sound didn’t happen again.

“‘S probably your imagination,” Starkey rolled his eyes. Smee had been famous amongst the crew in Neverland for hysterics at the slightest thing gone wrong.

“I heard something,” Smee insisted. “It wasn’t my imagination.”

“Let’s see if it sounds off again,” Black Murphy sighed as he rolled his eyes, hoping the two sailors would avoid another argument.

The group fell silent again. After a moment, another soft whump sounded, this time from higher up the mountain peak they were under. The sound echoed off the sides of the surrounding mountains.

“There it is again!” Smee exclaimed. “What is making that noise?”

John Turk smirked. “Perhaps it’s your stomach.”

The sailors laughed, save for Hook, who just smiled wryly. Another well-known fact about his first mate was Smee’s propensity for constantly eating, drinking, or even just thinking about food. Smee turned red from embarrassment and didn’t respond.

No one else said anything, content to fall back into silence as they trudged forward. The whumping sounds could be heard occasionally, coming more and more frequently as they continued.

Hook glanced up at the sky. Seeing that it was getting quite late in the afternoon and they had maybe only an hour or two before sunset, he halted his horse.

“Let’s set up camp,” he ordered. “I don’t want to get to nightfall without at least a fire going.”

The pirates agreed and began the process of making camp. Smee went off to gather firewood, and wandered off aways as the rest began pitching tents and readying the ground for the fire.

Just as Smee bent over to pick up a large branch, a large cracking sound echoed off the ridge, causing the pirates to pause and look around in befuddlement. Hook surveyed the mountainside above them. He gasped when he laid eyes on what it was that had caused that sound. An avalanche was coming right towards them from the nearest mountainside.

“Run!” he bellowed, gesturing at his men to grab their horses and try to get out of the way.

Five of the pirate crew managed to react quickly and led the way, but Smee, having been the furthest away, fell behind. Hook was nearly to the tree line when he glanced back to see his first mate struggling in the snow.

He groaned and turned back. He struggled to get his horse to turn back around, but once he did, he made it over to Smee in moments. He wrapped the reins loosely around his hook and reached for Smee's hand. Smee grabbed it and Hook hoisted the man up on the horse’ back in front of him, Smee hanging on for dear life to the side of the saddle as his legs dangled awkwardly in the air.

The horse had already struggled to carry Hook through the snow, but now that it had to carry Smee and Hook, it could barely leap over the snowbanks. The horse whinnied and shrieked in fright as it struggled to maneuver through. Hook could see his men in the tree line, cursing and yelling at him to hurry up. The tree line looked to be safe from the falling snow, and Hook nudged his heels deeper into the horse’s sides, hoping against hope that they would make it.

He was forty feet away. Then thirty. Then twenty-five. He felt his horse struggle even more and begin to slow from the exertion, and he jumped off, growling in frustration. There was no way they were going to make it at this rate.

“Captain!” Smee protested but Hook waved him off.

“I’ll be fine. Go!” Hook ordered. The horse began to move faster to the tree line now that its load had been lightened, and it finally made it to the tree line to safety with Smee dangling from the saddle.

Hook was feet away from the tree line, himself, but as he surveyed the flying snow and debris, he sensed with the kind of perfect clarity that accompanied deadly experiences that he wasn’t going to make it. He ducked down into the snow, covering his head with both arms just as it piled on top of him. His crew yelled frantically as he was buried, but they couldn’t be heard over the din.

Hook felt himself get swept away. Everything was a mass of white. He couldn’t breathe. He didn’t know which way was up. He couldn’t stop his descent.

He smashed hard into some object buried beneath the snow, knocking what little wind he had left. His body felt as if it were on fire. Still he tumbled on. As he finally, finally ground to a halt, his last coherent thought was of how badly his right side hurt. Hook’s eyes slid closed and he knew nothing more.

After some time, Hook could feel his life slowly slipping from his grasp as he came around back to consciousness. His body hurt everywhere, though the feeling was growing weaker every moment he lay there on the snow and debris. Dazed, his vision blurry, he tried to survey his surroundings. The last thing he recalled was the sight of his crew looking on in helpless terror as the snow overtook him, burying him under the mountain of snow and debris in the avalanche as it swept him away. He had knocked into something hard, and he knew instinctively that it had damaged something inside.

He didn’t have long left.

He squinted his eyes against the brightness of the snow that still surrounded him. The snow was dislodged all around him, rocks and pieces of trees scattered throughout the white from where they had been swept away along with him. He had somehow managed to come to a stop at the surface of the snow, which was lucky even if he were dying. Finally his eyes alighted on a lone dark object in the blinding whiteness of his surroundings. He focused through the dizziness on the figure, his heart seeming to come to a stop when his vision finally focused.

It was a woman, with blonde hair as fair as any in Arendelle that he had seen and eyes as green as the evergreen trees around them. Her lips were the color of blood and her eyes were rimmed in an interesting style of kohl that Hook had never before seen, even considering all of his travels throughout the centuries. Her hair looked fluffy, like the down of a newly hatched chick, and she was dressed all in black. Her legs were encased in the tightest black leather pants he had ever seen on a woman, tighter than even Milah had worn hers. Her black leather jacket looked like it had been taken from the skin of a snake, and it was closed tightly over her form. She wore black knee-high heeled boots.

These details were observed, filed away, and dismissed in a heartbeat. It was her skin that gave away who she was.

Her skin, though deathly pale, was covered in white, glittery scales. Hook had seen only one other person with scaly skin like this in his long life.

This woman was the newest Dark One.

He watched as the woman blinked and then approached him. She knelt down to his left, surveying him critically.

“You don’t have much time,” she said, her voice a husky drawl. “You’ll die soon if something isn’t done to prevent it.”

Hook blinked. He grunted, but didn’t actually respond like he wanted to. The pain surged through him, robbing him of his voice.

“I can save you with a flick of my wrist,” she said mildly, carrying on as if he hadn’t tried to speak. “It’s very easy magic, healing internal damage. But it comes at a price.”

Hook eyed her with alarm. He sneered, gathering his breath for one response, whispered and barely overheard through the whipping wind around them: “I’ll not pay any price for your evil.”

She raised her brows in mild surprise but otherwise gave no other reaction. She continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “The price is 15 years of servitude. No more; no less.”

Hook sneered, whispering, “I’d die before I become a Dark One’s plaything.” His efforts ended in a hacking cough, spitting out blood into the pure fallen snow.

The woman hummed. “It’s up to you. You obviously were in pursuit of something coming into these inhospitable mountains, but I’m sure your pride is worth giving up on that business of yours. You can die knowing that you failed in obtaining whatever it was you sought.”

She stood silently and turned to walk away, picking her way gracefully through the detritus around them. As he watched her perfectly postured form go, Hook thought about all that he had wanted, and all that he had gone through to get his revenge. He remembered how it had felt to hold Milah in his arms one last time as she lay there on the deck of his ship, panting and moaning from the pain of having her heart slowly crushed to dust. He recalled watching the dust blow into the wind along with all of his dreams and plans for the future. He remembered the high pitched gleeful giggle of Rumplestiltskin’s as the demon murdered his estranged wife and mother of his child in cold blood. He thought of the wracking pain his heart had felt as it shattered beyond repair. The pain of losing his hand was nothing compared to the emotional upheaval her loss had caused. Finally, he thought of leaving the demon itself in this world, of not making it pay for preying upon people and twisting them to its sick desires, and he shuddered out of disgust. He could not let his life’s purpose go unmet. Not now. Not when the creature responsible for every torment he had felt these last centuries was standing mere feet from him at last.

He closed his eyes in despair for the choice he was about to make. He had sworn once he had clawed his way out of indentured servitude that he would never be enslaved to another’s bidding again. He had had to agree to similar terms as these during his long stint in Neverland, playing the errand boy to Pan’s machinations, and he had sworn again, No more. Hook desperately tried to recall Milah’s bright smile, faded from his memory due to the passage of time, and of her gray eyes as they looked on at him in pain and heartbreak. He couldn’t let his revenge go, not at the cost of his own life. Not if the price was another stint of servitude alongside the demon that caused all his pain.

“Wait,” he grunted, closing his eyes against his decision.

The Dark One stopped and turned back. She walked back to his side and knelt by him again. “Have you changed your mind?”

Hook closed his eyes, fighting for coherence through his injuries. “I agree to ten years of service.” He was panting harder and harder, the breath he needed to speak growing harder to muster. If he couldn’t accomplish his goal in another ten years, it would be worth suffering this new Dark One’s wrath as he met his end at her hand. Either he would have his revenge or he would be united at last with his beloved. Ten years would have to be worth it all.

The Dark One considered him. She nodded once and waved her hand over his form. Golden light flowed from her hand and into his body. He felt his body heal, the cuts and lacerations closing up, the broken bones forging new ties, the bleeding and bruising stopping and reversing. He began to breathe easier, taking deeper breaths each time, and finally, he was healed.

He raised up into a half sitting position, surveying his body with awed interest, when he noticed a black band around his wrist just below the edges of his tattoo.

“The band represents your agreement to provide services to me. It is magically binding, breakable only by my magic or your completed time. You will not be able to remove it in any way. Once your ten years are up, it will disappear.”

He looked up at the Dark One in shock and fear. She had already turned her back on him.

“My pet will be along momentarily to bring you to my residence. Don’t try to run; it will only make things worse for you if you do.” She stepped forward and disappeared in a cloud of gray-white smoke.

Hook looked wildly around him. He was alone on the mountainside, the sun quickly setting below the horizon. Even if he could run, he had no way of knowing which way to go. His crew were nowhere to be seen, and the mountain was silent. He started shivering and tugged his leather duster closer to him, cursing his ability to now feel the cold he hadn’t felt while he had been dying.

He didn’t have long to wait before this supposed “pet” came along. A rush of wings sounded from overheard, and he looked up, gasping when he realized what it was.

A giant black swan slowly descended from the air, just a ways down the mountain from him. He gaped at it as it landed and tucked its wings against its body. It stared at him with a familiar green gaze, though he couldn’t place why the eyes looked familiar. He slowly stood from his stooped position.

The bird had to be at least as tall as a house and as wide as a small barn. He eyed its beak warily, but it seemed to want to do nothing but blink at him.

“Are- are you here to bring me to the tower?” he asked with uncertainty. The black swan nodded once.

“Am I meant to walk with you?”

The black swan shook its head.

Hook frowned. “Then how are we meant to go there?”

The black swan lowered its head to the snow and unfolded a wing, dipping it to the snow as well in a strange sort of bow. Hook blinked.

“…You want me to ride on your back?” he asked slowly.

The swan looked up at him, its green eyes blinking, and nodded once.

He sighed in uncertainty and looked at the swan’s back. He wasn’t sure how to mount the animal without injuring it with his hook. He found that, though he loathed the thought of being the Dark One’s servant, he did not want to hurt this beautiful pet of hers. It seemed so innocent.

He stepped up to its side and stroked the feathers along its neck. “I apologize if I hurt you,” he murmured before taking hold of a bunch of feathers and hoisting himself up.

He somehow managed to get settled on the bird’s back without pulling any feathers out, but it had been an awkward mounting. He swayed unsteadily as it raised its head, grabbing on with his right hand firmly to keep from falling off. Hook had just managed to secure his grip on the feathers when the bird unfurled its wings and flapped them hard, launching them both into the air.

Hook grabbed the bird’s neck out of an instinctual fear, closing his eyes against the wind and the rapidly receding ground below. He sat paralyzed, afraid to move an inch lest it dislodge his hold on the feathers in his hand. He had never wished more for the return of his left hand than he had in that moment. After a few minutes, once the ascent had steadied, he slowly opened his eyes. He raised his head up slightly and looked around.

The sight was beautiful, Hook had to admit. Though he had always preferred the sea, there was something majestic about these mountains. The sun’s rays hit the peaks just right, singing a melody of sight. He smiled slightly at the view.

After an indeterminate amount of time, the swan began its descent. He leaned as far over as he dared, desperate to see what their destination was. Growing ever closer was a tall tower resting in a valley, completely surrounded by mountains on all sides.

‘How perfect,’ Hook thought. ‘A prison surrounded by land.’

The tower extended quite high into the sky; it had to be at least seven or eight stories. The landscape around it was littered with trees and bushes and flowers of all colors. The tower’s edifice was cheery looking, casting a reflection on to the lake beside it in the now dimming light of evening. It was a stark contrast to the imposing figure that Rumplestiltskin’s castle cut in the countryside of the kingdom in which he had chosen to live after losing his son to his cowardice.

The brick was a smattering of pink and red and white, and windows dotted the sides in levels. The roofline was pointed, the shingles were a pretty cerulean blue, and a Germonian flag flew at the top of a spire. Hook wondered at the flag and why the new Dark One would live in a tower that sported the Germonian flag. He stared at the yellow buttercup on the crimson background for a moment longer before turning his attention to the rest of the valley.

He must have been a thousand feet above the ground, far higher than he had ever been before, even when his ship had the Pegasus sail as they flew to Neverland. A quick survey of the mountains showed no way out, save the aerial kind. Hook frowned. He knew there had to be some way out of this valley; it was simply a question of finding it. He noticed a stream that flowed through the grounds and into the lake just a ways down the shore from the tower, and Hook wondered whether the stream possibly held a way out.

The black swan dove down sharply, startling him from his thoughts. It glided down, down, until it landed on the ground. He clambered gracelessly off its back, falling to his knees once he was back on the ground. The black swan spread its wings and took back off to the air, flying beyond the mountains until he couldn’t see it any more. He turned back to the tower and contemplated the lone door that led into the structure. Before he could take a step towards it, he fell to the ground hard and passed out. He never noticed the Dark One standing behind him with her hands raised, the remnants of a sleeping powder made from poppies blowing in the wind from where she had blown it out of her hands and onto the pirate captain.

The Dark One stood over him, surveying him with curious eyes in the dimming light, before smiling softly. With a casual wave of her hand, the door of the tower shimmered with the release of a ward that served to keep anyone out of her home away from home. She gave one last lingering look to the pirate captain before going inside, waving her hand once more to send his sleeping form to a guest bedchamber that had never before been used. When she stepped onto the threshold, she closed the door, grinning widely at her new fortune.

Somewhere deep inside, the Darkness gave a heaving shudder at this new turn of events.

[laianely]

Dangerous Woman

This edit needs to be commented)

Spotify gave me this music in the Discover Weekly playlist, and when I heard it, I decided that it would be great for edit with Dark Emma. But while I was making it, I decided to add some clips with Killian, and now it's an epic trailer for AU. Just imagine: Emma is really dark Dark One (not morally gray like she was in show), and Killian is not the Dark One and he is trying to stop her evil intentions. And the Darkness forces Emma to kill him!!!!

And now I want to write it...

Tag people who may be interested: @killianxswan @teamhook @booksteaandtoomuchtv @exhaustedpirate @anmylica @hollyethecurious @kmomof4 @winterbaby89 @undercaffinatednightmare @resident-of-storybrooke @caught-in-the-filter @tiganasummertree @stahlords @lfh1226-linda @darkshadow7 @fleurdepetite @captainswan-kellie @motherkatereloyshipper @soniccat @jrob64 @beckettj @whimsicallyenchantedrose @jonesfandomfanatic @zaharadessert @bluewildcatfanatic @once-upon-a-happy-end @ultraluckycatnd

[cssns]

WOW!!!!!! Can you believe it? We're done and it's time for the CSSNS23 Roundup!!!

Before we get started, I need to recognize and thank my team of mods, @winterbaby89 @jrob64 @stahlop and @ultraluckycatnd, without whom this event wouldn't have happened this summer! Please join me in giving them all the long distance internet group hugs!!!!

And NOWWWWWWWW... Here we GOOOOO!!!!! Under the cut, unless Tumblr ate it.

@hufflepuffinstorybrooke opened us up this year on July 1 with a wonderful soulmates OS called If You're Lucky, Love Leaves Scars, that I was privileged to make artwork for. The fic left me in tears and melting at the same time!

On July 3, @teamhook posted the first chapter of her fic The Last Witch Hunter, inspired by the Vin Diesel movie of the same name. Only one ch so far, but I'm absolutely captivated and eagerly awaiting more! Very intriguing artwork by herself.

@spartanguard dropped her Killian's evil twin MC on July 5, Sons of Love and Death, with artwork by herself. That artwork, of two incredibly handsome guys shouldn't be as chilling as it is, but IT IS... The fic is completely written and she's been updating weekly, so we're on ch9 of 13. Just sayin, but I'm about ready to use a certain dagger on a certain evil twin.

July 7 @goforlaunchcee posted Smoke and Mirrors, a HOOT of a ghost story, with such lovely artwork by @piinfeathers that perfectly captures CS in this fic. Three chapters are up so far, and I can't wait for more!!!

July 10, @killiansprincss posted her OS A Court of Vines and Shadow inspired by A Court of Thorns and Roses, with absolutely gorgeous artwork by @hollyethecurious. I was not familiar with the source material, so I was completely surprised and delighted with this fic!!!

@athenascarlet posted her merman Killian OS on July 13, The Merman with a wonderful visual on Tumblr 😏 Just a regular night between a sheriff and her merman pirate... Would love to see more of this, but it's staying a OS... for now, she says...

Also on July 13, @anmylica posted the first chapter of Fly With the Black Swan with amazing artwork by @zaharadessert. We have two chs of ten up so far, and I'm sitting on pins and needles waiting for more!!!!

On July 15, @whatevenisthisbloganymore posted the first chapter of Forest View Apartments, a ghost story that has the questions swirling through my mind and eagerly awaiting the next installment! Amazing artwork by @undercaffinatednightmare!

Speaking of @undercaffinatednightmare, real life has been very rude lately and has left her unable to post her two planned fics for this summer, but she has managed to make the artwork for them both that you can find here and here! I love her writing so much and I know whenever RL lets up, both these fics are going to be wonderful!!! *EDITED* The first of her fics, A Charming Curse, has now posted and it promises to be FUN!!!

July 19, @deckerstarblanche posted An Offer She Can't Refuse, with more lovely artwork by @undercaffinatednightmare. Emily only planned two chs for this very hot and sexy Omegaverse fic, but she took it in a very angsty direction in the final scene of ch2, and so has now promised that she'll come back and add one more ch to give us all the happy ending we deserve!

July 22, @zaharadessert posted a very hot demon Killian OS, Sacrificial Lamb that made bloodthirsty Krystal VERY happy. I was once again privileged to make artwork for the fic, with an assist by @motherkatereloyshipper who was responsible for the Emma edit I used.

July 23, @mie779 posted the first chapter of Finding Caldera: The Hidden World of Dragons, with just lovely artwork by @undercaffinatednightmare. The adventure of this fic is just wonderful! We're on ch9 and nearing the end!

On July 25, it was my turn to post for the event! Into the Light was inspired by the 1987 movie The Lost Boys, my very first introduction to vampires and it has never left me! Incredible artwork was created by @motherkatereloyshipper that still just leaves me staring at it slack jawed!

@hollyethecurious posted the first chapter of The Law of Surprise on July 28. Now complete in three parts, this beautiful BEAUTIFUL but also heartbreaking fic was inspired by the law of surprise from The Witcher. Breathtaking artwork was provided by @eastwesthomeisbest and can be found here, here, and here.

@xarandomdreamx posted her CS Practical Magic AU A Crystalline Knowledge of Love and Magic on July 30. Beautiful artwork by @hollyethecurious. Only one chapter so far and my heart is so broken for Emma and Elsa but also completely in love with the story!!!!

Rounding out July, @caught-in-the-filter posted original artwork featuring ghost Emma and vampire Killian that was absolutely CHILLING!!!!

@snowbellewells started Aug off on the 2nd with an incredible one shot, Deluge! Gorgeous artwork by @eastwesthomeisbest. I am so hopeful that Marta will eventually write more of this wonderfully intriguing fic!!!

Then, @eastwesthomeisbest was so inspired by Marta's fic, she made her own original art in the same vein as the art she made for the fic. Absolutely breathtaking!!!

On Aug 8, @booksteaandtoomuchtv posted the Prologue and ch1 of Witchy Woman. I have sooooo been waiting for this fic and so far, four chs in, it is hitting ALL my buttons! Artwork coming soon from @cocohook38.

On Aug 10, @cs-rylie posted The Journal, a seriously SCARY fic, only 3 chs in, inspired by Native American legend. Artwork by me, again with a much needed assist from @motherkatereloyshipper who was responsible for Milah and the journal itself.

@iamstartraveller776 posted her new fic, To Cleave Destiny on Aug 13. Featuring Demon Killian, just this Prologue has me on the edge of my seat!!! Artwork coming soon from @cocohook38.

@exhaustedpirate posted Parent for Hire on Aug 14. A Mandalorian inspired fic, Caro has melted my Captain Cobra heart so many times already, only four chs in. She also did moodboards to accompany each ch that you can find on each of the Tumblr ch posts x x x and I was also privileged to make a banner for the fic.

On Aug 16, @grimmswan posted the first chs of TWO fabulous fics!!! Dracula in Storybrooke comes from the woefully underutilized Land of Untold Stories arc, and Love Bites (But So Do I) is a supernatural adventure of vampire Emma and werewolf Killian. Artwork coming soon from @cocohook38.

On Aug 18, @snowbellewells posted her second fic of the event, Carolina Moon. A fic inspired by the Nora Roberts novel of the same name, my heart is already, only two chs in, broken for Emma and on the edge of my seat waiting for more! Beautiful artwork again done by @eastwesthomeisbest!

@jrob64 posted Saying Goodbye and Moving On on Aug 20, a DESPERATELY NEEDED and ABSOLUTELY PERFECT fix-it fic from the Underworld arc. I was again privileged to make artwork for it, and I'm just gonna have to accept that I almost can't make picsets anymore without the aid of @motherkatereloyshipper. For this one, she was again responsible for ghost Milah.

Aug 22, @padfootprongslet posted the Prologue for Like Our Love (Falling Down and Over Again). A Mr. and Mrs. Smith inspired fic, my heart was absolutely SHATTERED in this first ch and I can't wait for more! I was again privileged to make a picset for this with @motherkatereloyshipper coming in the clutch entwining the rings.

On Aug 24, @jonesfandomfanatic posted Stolen From Time. Now complete in three parts, this fic was absolutely BRILLIANT!!! @motherkatereloyshipper made a beautiful video to accompany it.

Our final fic by @wyntereyez will post in the next few days. She’s dealing with a hurricane at the moment, so she’s excused! Artwork by spartanguard. Can't wait! *EDITED* the fic and art are both now posted!!! I melted at Kait’s artwork, and I cackled and melted repeatedly reading the fic!!!! AND I am BEYOND EXCITED that Jamie has more to come in this universe, because I NEEEEEEEEEEEED it!!!!!

That's it everyone! Please enjoy all these FABULOUS fics and artworks and be sure to give the authors and artists all the love they deserve!!!

[booksteaandtoomuchtv]

hi im new to tumblr and love ur blog, i rly love captainswan! can u suggest some other captainswan tumblrs to follow? thanks xx

WELCOME, MY DEAR NONNIE.

HAVE I GOT BLOGS FOR YOU...

(I am still fairly new to the fandom so this is not an exhaustive list at all.)

Art @cocohook38 @piinfeathers @wild-werewolf - her Insta is more active and I highly recommend following @pirateswhore

Gifs/Edits @pirateherokillian @killianjonesz @k-leemac @naiariddle Fics/Meta/All the Things/Reblogs For fics, I elaborated at length here and my tag 'major cs fic rec' has many, many other lists that others in the community have done. (I will spare the retag for most of those folks.)

@teamhook @ishoulddefbedoingotherthings @piraterefrigerator @cptainjones @vasfasan @saptaincwan @grimmswan @exhaustedpirate @goforlaunchcee @snowbellewells @killian-whump @killiansprincss @kmomof4 @nachocheese-itsmycheese @anmylica @stahlop @tiganasummertree @jrob64 @djlbg @zaharadessert @xarandomdreamx @hollyethecurious @whimsicallyenchantedrose @elfiola @undercaffinatednightmare - Also has lots of relateable writing things over there @kazoosandfannypacks - Kazzy did OUAT-tober last year and propelled me into the OUAT fandom. Even when she is not doing OUAT things, she is doing amazingly creative things that encourage you to write or create on your own. Crack pairings? She's got them. Meta? Got it. And, it is smut-free and curse-free for those who take that into consideration. @ouatsnark - Doing the good work of defending CS against so much hate Event Pages @cssns @cshistfic @csjanuaryjoy @cssecretsanta2020 @ouattober Listen... I know that I forgot people I KNOW that I did and I am so, so sorry. But, follow them too!!

Oh, and I am so glad you like it here.

[teamhook]

Captain Swan Event

Hello, CS crew!! I come today with an event idea that has been tossed around in the discord server I run. (originally used for a different event >> CSMM) Okay, the new event  (Captain Swan Co-Storytellers Collaboration) would consist of groups of 3-4 people working together to write a captain swan story.  This is not a one person writes one part and passes on the document and so on until it reaches its end. No, this would be the ultimate team effort in an ensemble of amazing writers! Of course there are details to be ironed out but I wanted to know if anyone here was interested to join. I will share the form to get an idea of who is interested and for a way to contact anyone that wants to join in on the fun. As soon as I can I will reach out to you.

ENSEMBLE FORM

Gonna tag some people I know and I'm sorry if I don't tag everyone. If possible reblog. Thank you lovelies!

@allons-y-to-hogwarts-713 @andiirivera @anothersworld @apiratewhopines @artistic-writer @batana54 @beckettj @bethacaciakay @bixisarusher @branlovestowrite @brooke-to-broch @captainodonoghue @carpedzem @chasedancer17 @cocohook38 @courtorderedcake @darkcolinodonorgasm @deckerstarblanche @demisexualemmaswan @djlbg @donteattheappleshook @dovelyheart @elizabeethan @gingerchangeling @gingerpoliglot @holdingoutforapiratehero @hollyethecurious @hookedonapirate @hookedonaswanprincess @hookedonhiddles @ilovemesomekillianjones @imlaxdris71 @itsfabianadocarmo @jarienn972 @jennjenn615 @jonesfandomfanatic @jrob64 @justanother-unluckysoul @k-leemac @karlyfr13s @kday426 @killian-will-do @klynn-stormz @kmomof4 @kwistowee @kymbersmith-90 @laschatzi @lassluna @let-it-raines @lfh1226-linda @lonelyspectator12 @mariakov81 @motherkatereloyshipper @officerrogers @ohmakemeahercules @onceratheart18 @pirateherokillian @purplehawkcaptain @resident-of-storybrooke @revanmeetra87 @sailtoafarawayland @sals86 @scribomaniac @searchingwardrobes @seriouslyhooked @shardminds @shireness-says @snowbellewells @sotangledupinit @spacekrulesbians @spartanguard @stahlop @superchocovian @swanslieutenant @tehgreeneyes @the-darkdragonfly @thejollyroger-writer @thepirateandhisson @therealstartraveller776 @thislassishooked @thisonesatellite @tiganasummertree @tomeandflickcorner @ultraluckycatnd @veryverynotgoodwrites @wefoundloveunderthelight @wellhellotragic @whimsicallyenchantedrose @winterbaby89 @xarandomdreamx @xsajx @zaharadessert @myfearless-love @cosette141 @grimmswan @fleurdepetite @hookmecaptain @once-upon-a-pirate-ship  @undercaffinatednightmare @4getfulimaginator2022 @nachocheese-itsmycheese @booksteaandtoomuchtv @iverna @OUATadmire

[the-darkdragonfly]

NEW CHAPTER! Tempest - A Captain Duckling Tale

Chapter 8

helllllllooooooo! It's a hot minute for this one, eh? Sorry 'bout that. This chapter gave me no end of trouble, it wanted to go in about one million directions and I couldn't pick one! Anyway, a HUGE thank you to Maddie for yelling at me to write then patiently fixing what I wrote. love you, babe!

♥️♥️♥️♥️

“Scarlet!” Killian boomed, his voice thundering across the deck, all hands pausing in their work of loading the vessel with the rest of the goods, turning to watch young William Scarlet and their Captain. Will stood, having been crouched low inspecting the lowering of grain stores into the forward hold, and turned to his captain, face blank and at the ready. 

“Below deck,” he snapped, turning away as the large coat swung around his legs, “now!” 

William held his mask of deference until they were safely away from the eyes of the crew, before screwing his eyes shut and to feel his way along the walls of the hallway as Killian led him into his quarters. 

“What are you doing, you fool?” 

“I’m afraid I might see som’et I shouldn’t, aren’t I?” 

Killian growled- we’ll talk about your flagrant lack of respect later- rolling his neck out against the tension which had ebbed and flowed through his veins since William’s lifeblood had seeped from his body, white pale and dying on a dock at his feet. He’d been helpless to stop it, and while he’d lost men before, he wasn’t prepared to lose the boy who had so much a son to him. 

But Emma… she had saved him. She had saved his son.

“Could’a been worse, I s’pose,” Scarlet continued, cracking one eye open dramatically then the other when he had ascertained that the coast was in fact clear of naked women. “I could’a seen ye’r bare arse.” 

“William…” his tone was low and warning, but Scarlet ploughed on. 

“I may not ‘ave recovered from ‘at…” 

“Are you quite finished?” 

Scarlet nodded, gesturing with a flourish for Killian to continue, a smile nipping at the corner of his mouth.

.♥️♥️♥️♥️

Read the rest here

It's been a while - catch up here

Read my other stuff here

Tagging the usual suspects

@elizabeethan @donteattheappleshook @sailtoafarawayland @teamhook @wefoundloveunderthelight @caught-in-the-filter @ultraluckycatnd @veryverynotgood @snowbellewells @hollyethecurious @jrob64 @kmomof4 @artistic-writer @gingerpolyglot @xarandomdreamx @justanother-unluckysoul @zaharadessert @xsjax @karlyfr13s @tiganasummertree @wyntereyez @klynn-stormz @onceratheart18 @rkrbirdgirl @ouatdaily @blowmiakisscolin @courtorderedcake @winterbaby89 @pirateprincessofpizza @superchocovian @deckerstarblanche @alexa-fangirl-forever @stahlop @undercaffinatednightmare @lostintheskyfaraway @anmylica @motherkatereloyshipper @last-tsarina @lfh1226-linda @hookedmom @midnightsuki @paradiselady19 @jonesfandomfanatic

[cs-rylie]

Random idea to break the tie of who to ship Ruby with in my reader-guided fic.. Connect the Prompts (on ao3). Y'all get a preview in how I'll write the ships you've suggested, and maybe vote someone off.. (or you can tell me how bad an idea this is lol..)

LMK if you want to be added/removed from this list @jrob64 @kmomof4 @teamhook @elfiola @anmylica @soniccat @booksteaandtoomuchtv @winterbaby89 @tiganasummertree @undercaffinatednightmare @zaharadessert @eddisfargo @oshii @xarandomdreamx @gingerchangeling @deckerstarblanche @hookedmom @dashingpiratesandswans @thenoveljunkie @djlbg @insanelydeadlybookcollector @grimmswan @veiled-in-moxie @hannahhook7744 @julesep3026 @onceratheart18 @theejael @jonesfandomfanatic @inspiredbystardust @huntressandlioness1 @cleme-art17 @qualitycoffeethings @thepiratething @xellewoods @caityrayeraye @amyveanie @tequedarasavinon @wateryouremu @clickingkeys @stardreamer28 @middlemistcs13 @avmsstuff @thepansexualdemonchef @poetryslam12 @normadcisba @anonymous-persona @kday426 @momontheice @andiirivera

[jrob64]

For those of you on my tag list:

I plan to redo my list beginning with the next story I write (after I finish posting ‘Always in My Heart’) If you have liked and/or reblogged any of my last three longer stories (’Taking On Mrs. Jones’, ‘Blow Me Away’ or ‘Always in My Heart’), I will keep you on the list. If not, unless you respond to this post saying you want to remain on, I will stop tagging you. 

If you would like to be added, please tell me that as well. 

Thank you!

Tagging: @xsajx @hookedmom @kymbersmith-90 @kmomof4 @lassluna @pirateherokillian @teamhook @stahlop @elizabeethan @whimsicallyenchantedrose @resident-of-storybrooke @therooksshiningknight @jennjenn615 @lfh1226-linda @ilovemesomekillianjones @killianswannn @stories-enchanted @eleveneitherway @withheartfulloflove @kday426 @djlbg @kristi555 @laschatzi @xarandomdreamx @wyntereyez @goforlaunchcee @yasbio2015 @tiganasummertree @winterbaby89 @wefoundloveunderthelight @hollyethecurious @let-it-raines @jonesfandomfanatic @searchingwardrobes @oncechicagolove @andiirivera  @gingerchangeling @everything-person @klynn-stormz @qualitycoffeethings @enchanted-swans @ohmakemeahercules @donteattheappleshook @bluewildcatfanatic @the-darkdragonfly @demisexualemmaswan @grimmswan @spartanguard @flslp87 @ultraluckycatnd @thisonesatellite @captainswan21 @zaharadessert @mariakov81 @snowbellewells @kiwistreetswan @batana54 @nadine200179 @probalicious17 @courtorderedcake @julesep3026 @jackieorioncat @whatthehell102082 @jarienn972 @sthonour @linda8084  @pirateprincesslena @daxx04 @artistic-writer @cocohook38 @captainswan4life85 @molly958 @itsfridaysomewhere @fallingforthecaptain  @onceratheart18 @strangestarlighttree @justanother-unluckysoul @mrs-potato-but-likes-tomato @anothersworld @deckerstarblanche @purplehawkcaptain  @superchocovian @k-leemac @citygirlscowboy @laughterandbooks @sotangledupinit @apiratewhopines @huntressandlioness1 @gingerpolyglot @motherkatereloyshipper @cs-rylie @anmylica @paradiselady19 @pawshapedheart @vampcoffeegyrl23 @elfiola @softkilly @nachocheese-itsmycheese @iverna​ @booksteaandtoomuchtv

[kmomof4]

A Swan Family Christmas: A Christmas Fic in the Universe of A Family Affair

We finally made it, y'all!!! Ohhhhhhh, I've been sooooo anxious and excited to share this fic with y'all!!! I hope you enjoy reading it half as much as I enjoyed writing it!!

If you are not familiar with the series, it was inspired by The O'Hurley's by Nora Roberts, which I then adapted to Once Upon a Time. A Family Affair features the family of Marco and Beverly Swan- their first born David and triplet daughters Regina, Emma, and Ruby.

Love Between the Pages tells the story of Emma and Killian Jones. Killian is a bestselling biographer and he arrives at Emma’s horse farm in rural Virginia to interview her for his biography on her late husband Neal Cassidy, NASCAR darling who died 5yrs ago on the track. Falling in love with her was not part of the plan.

Dance With the Gypsy tells the story of Broadway star Ruby and how she falls in love with Graham Humbert, the producer of her new show, Secrets.

Clipping an Angel's Wings tells the story of Hollywood star Regina and Robin Locksley, the PI she hires to protect her from an unstable fan.

And finally, A Spy Finds a Home, David and Mary Margaret’s story. Dr. Mary Margaret Blanchard hires David to find her parents, scientists who have been kidnapped by a terrorist group. Once all the dust settles, Mary Margaret brings David back to the family he left many years ago.

It's not necessary for you to have read the other fics in the series to enjoy this, but this fic does reference people and circumstances introduced in the other fics.

And now, to give credit where credit is due. All the love and thanks in the world to Joni and Marta, my FABULOUS betas. This fic wouldn't be here without them, so please give them a hand...👏🏻 And second to Kit, the creator of the INCREDIBLE artwork up above!! Isn't it AWESOME???!!!! I could stare at it FOREVER!!!! Thank you so SO much, babe!!!

Thank you all so much for reading!!!

Summary: A year after Regina and Robin's wedding, the entire Swan, Jones, and Humbert clan descend on Emma and Killian's Virginia farm for Christmas!

Rating: G Total Christmas fluff ahead!!

Words: 7100

On ao3, if that's your preference.

Tagging the usuals. Please let me know if you'd like to be added or removed.

@jrob64 @teamhook @winterbaby89 @hollyethecurious @artistic-writer @xarandomdreamx @undercaffinatednightmare @the-darkdragonfly @stahlop @superchocovian @pirateprincessofpizza @tiganasummertree @anmylica @cosette141 @motherkatereloyshipper @zaharadessert @jonesfandomfanatic @ultraluckycatnd @jennjenn615 @allons-y-to-hogwarts-713 @kymbersmith-90 @booksteaandtoomuchtv @wistfulcynic @mie779 @snowbellewells @lfh1226-linda @aprilqueen84 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @pirateherokillian @elfiola @ilovemesomekillianjones @justanother-unluckysoul @poptart-cat-78 @myfearless-love @goforlaunchcee @searchingwardrobes @gingerpolyglot @gingerchangeling @djlbg @cocohook38 @cs-rylie @thisonesatellite @donteattheappleshook @deckerstarblanche @veryverynotgoodwrites @wefoundloveunderthelight @fleurdepetite @alexa-fangirl-forever @bluewildcatfanatic @qualitycoffeethings

Under the cut, unless Tumblr ate it.

Christmas was just a couple of days away. Emma, Killian, and Henry were feverishly getting everything ready to host the entire extended Swan and Jones families. They were expecting a total of sixteen extra guests for the holiday and excitement was running very high. 

They didn’t usually have much snow in December, but this year, they were predicting around three inches on Christmas Eve. Henry had never seen a white Christmas, and with all his aunts, uncles, and cousins, in addition to his grandparents coming, this was sure to be the best Christmas ever!

Henry peeked into his baby sister’s bedroom, not surprised to see her awake and standing in her crib. Henry grinned and came in, followed closely by Shep.

“Eny, Eny,” Hope babbled as her big brother approached.

“Do you know what today is, Hope?” Henry asked his sister. “Everyone’s coming today! Mimi and Papaw, Aunt Ruby, Uncle Graham and Poppa, and you’ll get to meet your baby cousins in person, Aunt Regina and Uncle Robin, Aunt M’s and Uncle David, Aunt Elsa and Uncle Liam, Aaron and Dale, and Grandpa Nemo!”

Henry lowered the side of the crib and lifted Hope out, setting her on her feet on the floor. She wasn’t walking independently yet, but she was close and Henry just knew that she’d do it sometime in the next few days while everyone was here. He stood behind her and held onto her hands raised in the air as she started toward the door of her bedroom.

He followed along behind her as they toddled the short distance to their parents’ room. Once they reached the door, Henry knocked.

“Mom? Dad?” he asked, opening the door slightly. Shep pushed the door open the rest of the way with his nose.

“Mamamamamamamama,” Hope babbled. “Dadadadadadadada.” 

The lights were still off, but the sun was poking through the blinds. Their dad sat up, his mouth opening on a huge yawn and swung his legs off the side of the bed, motioning for them to be quiet.

“Mom’s still asleep,” he whispered. “Let’s let her sleep just a little more. Go downstairs with Hope, Henry, and I’ll be down in just a minute to get breakfast started.”

Henry nodded and turned Hope around, back toward the door of the bedroom. As soon as they were gone, Killian leaned over to Emma, pressing a kiss to her brow and whispering in her ear.

“You can sleep for a little while longer, babe. I’ll send Henry up to get you once breakfast is ready.”

All he got was a muffled Mmmph in reply. Killian chuckled and made his way to the bathroom. A few minutes later, he came down the stairs and entered the breakfast room to find Henry entertaining his sister in her high chair. Killian smiled and pulled out eggs and the pancake batter he’d whipped up the night before. It only took a few minutes to cook the eggs and start on the pancakes.

“Go wake your mom, Henry,” he said, plating up the first batch of pancakes. Shep sat very attentively and patiently at Killian’s feet as he cooked, waiting to see if his pleading gaze would get him a breakfast treat.

“Don’t even think about it,” he told him with a frown. When Shep’s tail started to wag, Killian sighed. “If there’s any left after Mom eats, I might let you have one.” Shep wagged his tail even harder and Killian rolled his eyes.

By the time Emma and Henry came back down, there was a full plate of pancakes on the table and Killian was cutting one up for Hope, who’d already started on the eggs on her plate.

“So what do we have to do today, Mom?” Henry asked before stuffing a huge bite of eggs in his mouth. Killian gave him a disapproving look.

“You’ve been a big help the last few days, Henry, so there’s really not that much left to do,” Emma said. “All the sheets need to be washed and the airbeds blown up. Oh, and we should make sure there are plenty of clean towels for everyone.” Emma sat back, her face a little stunned. “I still can’t believe everyone’s coming,” she breathed. “This will probably never happen again.” Her eyes sparkled with excitement as her gaze met Killian’s and Henry’s. “This is gonna be the best Christmas ever!”

Killian reached over and covered her hand with his. “Yes, it is,” he said, smiling. “I’m so glad Liam, Elsa, the boys, and Nemo could all come.”

Henry all but bounced in his seat. “When will they get here?”

“Let’s see,” Emma said, opening her phone and checking all the flight times. “Regina and Robin won’t be here until tonight. Their flight doesn’t leave for a couple more hours yet, and Mimi and Papaw are with them. Ruby, Graham, the twins, and Poppa should be here around three. David and M’s, and Liam, Elsa, the boys, and Grandpa Nemo are all getting in around two. You and Dad will go to the airport to pick everyone up, and Ruby and the rest should be here by the time you get back. Regina has a limo bringing them out.”

They finished their breakfast quickly, Henry chatting animatedly about all the adventures he, Aaron, and Dale would have while they were here. He’d met Liam, Elsa, their boys, and Grandpa Nemo almost two years ago when Killian had taken them to meet his family once he got his finished manuscript sent off to his publisher. The three boys were only a year apart, with Henry in the middle, and they hit it off wonderfully. They kept in touch with Facetime and visits during the summer, but Henry was excited for them to enjoy the farm in the winter, especially with the snow expected.

Once the kitchen was cleaned up, everyone went their separate ways, marching orders in hand. Hope had been deposited in her room to play until Henry was done blowing up the air mattresses for his cousins in his bedroom, and in the downstairs study for Uncle Liam and Aunt Elsa. Emma was in the old farmhouse collecting all the sheets off the beds and getting them in the laundry while Killian and Shep headed out to the barn just to check with Leroy that the farmhands and horses had everything they needed for the next few days. With all the company expected, not to mention the holiday itself, there wasn’t going to be time for him to be doing anything out in the barn.

The last book he’d written on Henry’s father, Neal Cassidy, had been his biggest bestseller yet. He’d enjoyed a relatively lucrative career up to that point, between being an investigative journalist for the Boston Globe for several years before turning to writing official biographies for a living. But his book on Cassidy had exceeded all expectations and had brought in a windfall that had allowed him and Emma to not only really fix up the old farmhouse, and hire full time farm hands with Leroy as part time manager, but also to build themselves a new house for their growing family. So now with two large houses on the farm, they could host their very large extended family for the holidays.

After talking with Leroy and seeing that everything was under control, not that he expected anything different, Killian returned to the house to get his white chicken chili in the two slow cookers before heading upstairs to get Hope dressed. It was going to be a long and busy day.

~*~*~

When Henry and Killian arrived home from the airport with David, Mary Margaret, Liam, Elsa, Aaron, Dale, and Grandpa Nemo in tow, true chaos descended. The boys immediately retreated to their shared bedroom, but were quickly summoned back to the family room and kitchen to greet Ruby, Graham, Maurice- who the kids called Poppa- and their new baby cousins, Hunter and Diana. Everyone was thrilled to see the babies, but the six-month-old twins didn’t hold the attention of the older boys very long, so after a round of hugs and making cute faces at the babies, they were off again.

Everyone else gathered in the kitchen, catching up with each other’s goings on in the last year since they’d all been together for Robin and Regina’s wedding. Liam and Elsa’s farm was flourishing, and they were thinking about branching into cattle farming. They already harvested corn for grain and hay, in addition to the apple orchard that was their main crop, and had one cow for milk for the family in addition to a few horses, but the income cattle farming would generate wasn’t anything to shake a stick at and could set the farm up for generations to come. 

Ruby was back on stage with Secrets after having the twins, and Graham was as busy as ever scouting for and signing new talent, as well as further expanding Humbert Records’ Broadway presence. 

Grandpa Nemo and Poppa were simply enjoying their retirement and spending lots of time with their respective grandchildren.

David and Mary Margaret had gotten married the previous summer in New York before moving to Chicago. David couldn’t bring himself to lie to his family about how he’d met Mary Margaret and how he’d come into possession of a very large estate outside of the Windy City. So, he told them the truth about what he did during the decade he was away from them, in the very vaguest of terms. They knew he was an American spy, and that the estate where they now lived had been left to him by his recruiter and mentor. He wanted to hold on to the last thing in existence that tied him to Lance, so once he and Mary Margaret tied the knot, they’d relocated there permanently. 

Now David was dipping his toes into the songwriting business, mostly due to Mary Margaret’s encouragement. Graham and Poppa’s ears both perked at that little tidbit, but David told them not to get their hopes up. He wasn’t interested in singing himself, but might be interested in partnering with someone. Graham told David to get in touch with him after the holidays and he’d see about finding a partner for him.

After getting her parents back, taking some very well deserved time off to plan her wedding, and the wedding itself, Mary Margaret had decided that she wasn’t interested in being sequestered in the laboratory again. Once they settled in Chicago, she’d accepted a teaching position at Northwestern and was loving every minute of it. She enjoyed engaging and challenging young minds in the principles of physics and had trouble seeing herself ever going back to the lab.

Once everyone was caught up, they called the boys down to the kitchen for dinner. With two large pots filled with Killian’s white chicken chili recipe, there was plenty to go around, as well as for their missing family members once they arrived in a couple of hours.

Dinner was loud and happy with about half a dozen different conversations going on at the same time. Killian caught Emma’s eye and wasn’t surprised to see the tears sparkling in the corner of them. He felt a surge of love and contentment inside him to be here right now with almost all of their loved ones beside them.

Killian smiled and mouthed I love you to his beloved. She smiled and mouthed the same thing right back to him.

~*~*~

The next day was Christmas Eve, and the weatherman might find himself unemployed, after his prediction of three inches was so far off from the actual snowfall the farm received overnight. Henry, Aaron, and Dale pressed their faces to the window in Henry’s room, their mouths hanging open and eyes wide as saucers at the blanket of white outside. 

The snow was high, and the distance to the old farmhouse was an unblemished carpet that the boys couldn’t wait to get into. After standing there stunned for several minutes, they all scrambled to get into their snow suits and downstairs into the drifts outside, not even bothering with breakfast, Shep hot on their heels.

An hour later, shouts from outside woke Robin in the other house. When Emma, Killian, Henry and Hope moved into the new house, the old farmhouse had undergone a full renovation, bringing it up to 21st century standards and making it company ready. So while all the children and their parents were in the new house, the rest of the family was in the old farmhouse. Robin looked over at Regina, still snoring softly. She was utterly breathtaking in the morning light, but Robin’s brow furrowed as he wondered how she was still asleep. Even when she was in between projects, she could never sleep past eight. He glanced at his phone on the nightstand and saw it was nearly 8:30 in the morning. It had been a very long and exhausting day yesterday, between the cross country flight and the late night spent with her sisters, so he wasn’t going to begrudge her sleeping in a bit.

He rose from the bed and went to the window to see the boys and the dog playing in the drifts that covered the front lawn. Robin grinned at their antics before grabbing his robe and heading down to the kitchen to start the coffee maker.

It was almost another thirty minutes later that Regina finally came down, yawning hugely. 

“There’s my Sleeping Beauty,” Robin said, rising from his seat at the bar, placing his hand on her waist and leaning in to kiss her cheek. “Did you sleep ok?”

“I did,” she said, “just not enough of it.” She made her way to the coffee maker as Robin shot a speculative look at Beverly, who simply raised her eyebrows at Regina’s comment.

“Where is everyone?” Regina asked, sitting down next to Robin at the bar and leaning her head against his shoulder.

“Mary Margaret, I believe, is in the new house getting things together for the gingerbread cookoff,” Beverly said as she cooked some eggs for Regina. “The men are all outside playing in the snow with the boys,” Beverly chuckled. 

“I wanted to wait until you woke up before heading outside myself,” Robin said, kissing Regina on the brow.

“Mmmm,” Regina hummed, eyes shut while taking a sip of her coffee. As soon as she did, she grimaced in distaste and opened her eyes. “Eww… What's wrong with this coffee? Does the Keurig need descaling or something?”

Robin turned confused eyes on his bride as Beverly brought a plate of scrambled eggs over.

“The coffee tastes fine to me,” he commented, taking another sip from his mug. “What does it taste like to you?”

Regina shook her head before speaking. “I don’t know,” she said, the grimace still on her face. “But I don’t like it, whatever it is.” She took a bite of the eggs her mother had made and had barely swallowed the first bite, when her hand flew to her mouth and she lunged for the half bath on the other side of the kitchen.

Beverly gave her a loving yet stern look after she came back out of the bathroom, followed closely by Robin.

“I think it’s time you took a pregnancy test, Regina,” she said.

The look on Regina’s face as she looked at Robin, nearly made Beverly’s heart break. The fear mixed with hope in her daughter’s eyes was mirrored by her husband, although much more hope than fear in his case, and Beverly lifted a silent prayer for them both and the potential addition to their family.

“Here, try this,” Beverly urged, placing some toast on the bar as they came back and sat down. “Might help settle your stomach.”

“Just the thought that I might be pregnant,” Regina murmured, “makes my stomach roll even more.” Robin sat down next to her and rubbed circles into her back as she took a bite. When she was able to swallow with no ill effects, Regina smiled. “Do you really think it’s possible?”

“You’ve slept more in the last week than I think I’ve ever seen you sleep,” Beverly observed, “plus the coffee tasting off and not being able to even take a bite of scrambled eggs without throwing it back up?” She shrugged. “It’s certainly suggestive.”

“She’s right, Regina,” Robin added.

“I don’t want to wait until after Christmas to take a test,” Regina said, softly. “Do you think Emma might have one?”

“Chances are probably decent,” Beverly said, nodding. “Finish eating that first and we can go over and ask.”

Regina hurriedly finished eating the toast- it really did help her stomach- and then they all trooped through the snow, carefully avoiding the gigantic snow fort and snowman the boys and men were busy building. The kitchen in the new house was a hive of activity, with Mary Margaret, Ruby, and Elsa helping Emma get all the ingredients out for the gingerbread bake-off happening later that morning and afternoon. The participants were separated by household, so there’d be five different gingerbread recipes being baked with Mimi, Papaw, Grandpa Nemo, and Poppa judging the results.

Regina made her way over to Emma and pulled her aside.

“Do you, uhhh,” Regina began, picking at the hem of the sweater she wore and not meeting Emma’s eyes, “have a pregnancy test that I could use?”

Emma’s eyes widened, and Regina blushed furiously.

“Really? Are you serious?” Emma asked incredulously before schooling her features. “Yes, I do, actually. Come on.” She grabbed her sister by the arm and motioned to Ruby to follow them upstairs.

They got to the master bath, and Emma and Ruby waited in the bedroom while Regina took the test. Once done, Regina came back into the room, taking a deep shaky breath.

She sat on the bed in between her sisters and looked down at her clasped hands.

“Mom said I’d been sleeping more than she’s ever seen,” Regina murmured. “The coffee this morning was awful, and I was sick when she cooked me plain scrambled eggs.” She shrugged. “So she said I should take a test.”

Emma placed her arm around Regina’s shoulders. “Are you late?” she asked.

“Not technically,” she replied with a shrug. “Not yet. My cycle’s never been exact, and a day or two off in either direction is normal.” She looked at her sisters. “So I wouldn’t have bothered for at least another week.” She took a deep breath, trying to keep her tumultuous feelings in check. She took both her sisters' hands in her own as they waited.

The timer went off, and Regina could feel the blood drain from her face. Ruby and Emma squeezed her hands in reassurance.

“You can do this, Regina,” Ruby encouraged her. “We’re right behind you.”

Regina rose on shaky legs and walked into the bathroom. A moment later, Emma and Ruby heard a loud sob and ran to their sister. She stood in front of the sink, holding on to the edge for dear life with the test in front of her, Pregnant showing clearly in the window. Ruby and Emma wrapped Regina in their arms, tears flowing freely from all three.

Emma was the first to get herself under control enough to speak. 

“Congratulations, Mom,” she hiccupped through her tears. 

The appellation made Regina dissolve into fresh tears.

“I never thought…” she gasped in between sobs. “Oh, God! Everything I took to get on the plane yesterday! What if…?”

“Do not even think about that, Regina,” Ruby urged her. “Do you know how many unsuspecting moms drink alcohol, or take medications, or do things that aren’t considered safe in pregnancy? And their babies turn out just fine. Your little one will be completely perfect. You mark my words.”

Regina nodded, tears still tracking down her face. She pulled out her phone and sent a text to Robin before hugging her sisters close again.

“Thank you,” she breathed. “I love you both so much.”

“Love you, too.”

“Love you, three.”

~*~*~

Robin felt a vibration in his pocket and pulled out his phone to see a 👶🏻 in a text from Regina. He surged to his feet and ran for the stairs. When Emma and Ruby had gone upstairs with Regina, he stayed behind to give the sisters the privacy he was sure Regina appreciated. He may be the potential father, but her sisters had been the ones who’d been with her through all of it and letting them be the first to know seemed like the least he could do. Especially since they were both mothers themselves and had been through this before.

He came into the bedroom to see the three of them caught up in a three way embrace, tears tracking down their faces, and beaming smiles on them all. His own smile broke through as they let go of one another. Regina ran for him. He caught her and swung her around as Emma and Ruby left them alone.

Robin set her back down and planted a hard kiss on her lips, even as delighted giggles spilled from his love’s mouth. He held her tightly, burying his face in the side of her neck. His face and neck were wet from where her tear-stained face had rubbed up against his, and Robin could feel the tears collecting in his own eyes. He pulled back just a bit and rested his forehead against hers.

“I assume it was positive,” he quipped drily.

A bark laugh escaped Regina. “Yes,” she confirmed. “It was positive.” 

Robin tightened his arms around her and kissed her gently. “So, when are you due?”

She pulled back completely and picked up her phone. Opening her period tracker app, she calculated her due date. 

“August 29th.” She caught her bottom lip with her teeth as she looked at him. He gathered her back in his arms, hugging her tightly.

“Oh, Regina,” he sighed. “I’m so happy.” He could feel her deep inhale as he held her, but she didn’t exhale right away. He pulled back again to look into her eyes. “What is it?”

She swallowed hard, and the tearful happiness in her eyes disappeared to be replaced by a nervousness he hadn’t seen since she’d told him about her history with Samdi Facillier.

“If… if something happens…” She tripped over her words and understanding came over him.

He met her gaze unflinchingly and tightened his arms around her.

“I told you when I asked you to marry me, that you were first. Always and forever,” he assured her. “That if we never had children, you were the only thing I needed. Everything else, we would take as it came.”

Another sob escaped her, and Robin gathered her close again, kissing her on the forehead. “I love you, Regina. And nothing will ever change that.”

~*~*~

The snowball war to end all snowball wars was going on outside with the vast majority of the family taking part. The babies were down for afternoon naps, and all the gingerbread was baked, cooled, and ready for decorating. Except for the gingerbread cake Elsa planned to bake while everyone else was decorating their creations. Regina, Beverly, and Emma were the only three members of the family who weren’t outside romping in the winter wonderland.

Emma suggested they get themselves cups of hot cocoa, and go sit in the gazebo that was part of the wraparound front porch to watch the shenanigans going on outside. The ladies agreed.

They bundled up, grabbed their mugs with the steaming hot beverages and emerged onto the front porch. They didn’t know who was keeping score, but it was obviously a free-for-all and every man for himself. 

All except the young boys. 

They seemed to be a well-oiled machine, taking cover behind the walls of the snow fort they’d spent that morning building right on the edge of the tree line so they couldn’t be ambushed from behind. 

The rest of their family was spread out over the no man's land between the two houses. From where the three women sat, they could see Henry, Aaron, and Dale’s heads pop up occasionally from their fort, sending their projectiles toward wherever their target had sought to hide. 

Ruby was behind the giant snowman, a pile of snowballs at her feet. They could see Elsa about ten feet away from the fort behind one of the tall pine trees that shielded the farm from the state highway. Poppa and Marco were on either side of the gazebo where the ladies sat. The porch and gazebo were too high off the ground for the grandpas to be able to see over them and target one another. 

Liam played baseball in high school and college and had been good enough to make a career of it, if his heart hadn’t laid squarely on the farm he grew up on and in the hands of his high school sweetheart. His pitching arm was still in very good shape though, so he took up his position on the corner of the old farmhouse, far out of reach of his adversaries, but not so far that he couldn’t reach them with his own arsenal of projectiles.

Mary Margaret crept around the corner of the garage and lobbed a snowball at Marco, catching him on the shoulder. She shouted in triumph before disappearing back around the corner as Marco shouted his indignation at being blindsided.

Grandpa Nemo and Graham were also hiding behind trees near the fort and were staying busy throwing snowballs at anyone who caught their eye while trying to evade the same, with varying degrees of success.

Killian, David, and Robin were nowhere to be seen. Emma sat up, as Killian suddenly emerged from the trees behind the fort, knelt for a moment, and grabbed Henry and Dale around the waist. He rose again, with both boys firmly under his arms and ran headlong into the no man’s land where he unceremoniously dropped them and then ran for cover on the other side of the front porch of the new house. As soon as the boys were on the ground, they were pummeled with snowballs from all sides. Having the protection of the fort, they’d been hit much less than the others. They howled as they hightailed it back to the fort, shouting threats of retribution at Killian for sneaking up on them the way he had.

As soon as they took cover, Robin and David both emerged from the trees in the same place Killian had only a minute before. The two were obviously working together as they held their snowballs aloft and flushed the boys out from the protection of the fort. The men chased the boys out into the middle of the yard, signaling to everyone else to come out of hiding and hit as many targets as possible.  It was a total knock-down-drag-out, with no one getting away scot free.

Henry emerged from the melee, shouting at Emma.

“Did you see me, Mom? I got Uncle David on the back of the head!” Emma rose from her seat in the gazebo and made her way to where Henry was climbing the steps to the porch.

“I did see,” she assured her son, a wide grin on her face. “I think it’s time for everyone to come inside and warm up. We have gingerbread to decorate, judge and eat, and Christmas movies to watch.”

The other boys were the first to come toward the porch and the promise of gingerbread, followed by the women and grandfathers. The men were still trying to best one another on the snowball field. Robin had taken up a position next to the gazebo, where Regina and Beverly still sat, enjoying their hot chocolate, and laughing at the men trying to one up each other. As they finished their drinks and rose from their seats to head inside, Robin could see David coming around the other side of the house and taking aim at Regina. Time seemed to slow down as Robin ran toward David, aiming his own snowball at him. David threw his snowball, Regina turning to the side to shield herself, as Robin hurled his own, taking a flying leap toward David. 

He just missed the snowball David threw, but his aim was true, catching David in the center of the chest. David’s snowball hit Regina on the hip, and Robin tackled David into the snow.

“Gotcha, sis!” David howled, even as Robin rose above him, grabbing the front of his coat. Robin was barely aware of Regina running across the porch and down the steps toward them as red colored his vision.

“What the hell, man?” he shouted at David. “You can’t target the porch! That was safe!” David turned his attention to Robin, his laughter turning into confusion and then anger as he pushed Robin off him and stood up.

“It was just a bit of fun!” he shouted. “It got her on the hip! What’s the big deal?”

Regina got between them, facing Robin. She cupped his face in her hands and begged him to look at her.

“It’s fine,” she said. “I’m fine. It didn’t even hurt. I promise.” 

Robin forced himself to focus on his wife. Her chocolate eyes were filled with worry. For him. He put his hands on her shoulders and matched his breathing with hers. Once he was calmed down, he turned his attention back to David, who stood watching them over to the side, a puzzled and brooding expression on his face.

“She’s pregnant,” Robin snapped, still a little hacked that David had targeted Regina. “She can’t…”

“So what?” David interrupted, confusion now all over his face. “So is Mary Margaret. That didn’t stop her.” 

“What?” Regina exclaimed, turning to her brother, surprised. 

David shrugged sheepishly. “Yeah,” he admitted. “We were gonna announce it tomorrow night at dinner.” Regina released Robin and turned to David, embracing him tightly.

“Congratulations!”

“Thanks,” he murmured, accepting her hug. “And you, too.” She pulled back and glanced at Robin. At his small nod, she turned back to her brother.

“I think Robin is just worried because I’ve had a miscarriage before.”

David’s brow furrowed. “You have? When?”

“Years ago,” she told him. “Not long after I first came to Hollywood.”

“I had no idea,” David murmured. “I’m sorry.”

“It was a long time ago. And I’m fine.” She turned back to Robin. “I do think you overreacted, though.”

Robin looked like he’d rather eat nails than apologize, but after a deep breath and hard swallow, he held his hand out to David who took it.

“Sorry I overreacted,” he said.

“No problem. I probably would have done the same.”

Regina smiled at them. “Let’s go in,” she said, looping her arm through her husband’s. “I need your help decorating the gingerbread house.” Looking back out over the lawn, she hollered for the rest of them to come in. “Come on, guys! It’s time for gingerbread!”

At her call, the other three started making their way to the house, still eyeing each other warily. Killian was the furthest away and couldn’t resist one more throw at his brother as he approached the steps to the house. He cackled as the missile found its target, and took off running toward the back of the house as Liam made himself one last snowball and followed. Regina, Robin, David, and Graham entered the front door to see Killian doing a dance in front of the sliding glass door in the kitchen, taunting Liam.

“I will have my revenge, little brother!” Liam called, an evil grin on his face. “The next time you come out here… revenge will be MINE!” He dropped his snowball into the drifts lining the back porch and climbed the steps as Killian opened the door for him.

“Good luck with that, brother,” he smirked. The brothers turned toward the kitchen where the gingerbread was all laid out on the island and some of the creations were being moved to the table, to give everyone room for decorating the tasty treats.

Elsa’s cake was already in the oven, and the smell was permeating the whole house.

Mary Margaret and David had gone for simple gingerbread boys and girls, and they were hard at work decorating them with royal icing.

Regina was getting their gingerbread house constructed while Robin was laying out the candies they’d soon be decorating with.

Graham joined Ruby in her construction of a gingerbread Christmas tree.

Liam moved into the family room where Elsa and all the grandparents were on babysitting duty, keeping the kids occupied while the others worked on their gingerbread creations. White Christmas played on the TV, and Liam sat on the sofa next to his wife. He put his arm around her and kissed her temple. 

“The cake smells delicious,” he said in her ear. Elsa smirked and looked at her phone. 

“It has about five more minutes. We’re sure to win. Nothing beats just an old fashioned gingerbread cake.” Liam hummed his agreement.

Killian moved to the other end of the island from Robin and Regina to help Emma get their gingerbread church put together. She’d found the pattern on Etsy and was determined to make it, no matter how complicated it might be.

Once everyone was done- well, almost everyone, anyway- Marco, Beverly, Maurice, and Grandpa Nemo came in from the family room. They gathered around Emma and Killian’s gingerbread… something…

“It was supposed to be a church,” Emma said surlily. The four walls were intact, but that was about it. The roof was very crooked and the steeple was completely missing, the required pieces scattered around the island. Everyone laughed good naturedly before Beverly took a bite.

“It tastes good, anyway,” she observed. “But considering it’s not decorated, or even fully constructed for that matter, I think it’s safe to say…” she looked at her grumpy daughter with an amused smile on her face, “y’all are not going to win.”

The judges moved to Elsa and Liam’s cake. It was still warm, having had about twenty minutes to cool, and topped with powdered sugar. They all had a small piece of the cake and declared it absolutely wonderful. Elsa and Liam exchanged smug smirks.

Ruby and Graham’s gingerbread Christmas tree was incredible. Very carefully constructed with royal icing, it was a full tree with every “branch” tipped with the white icing- including the star on the top of the tree- and decorated with red and green mini m&m’s.

“I don’t even want to try it!” Poppa exclaimed. “It’s too beautiful to eat!”

But they did eventually try it, after the requisite photos were taken, and found that it was delicious, as well.

Robin and Regina’s gingerbread house was fully constructed and decorated, but was rather sloppy. Icing was dripping in places, and the candy wasn’t staying on. It tasted good enough, but Regina still scowled as the judges ranked their creation in Fourth Place.

David and Mary Margaret’s gingerbread boys and girls were delicious and impeccably decorated. After unanimously being declared the winner of the bake-off, David spoke.

“It’s my secret ingredient to the gingerbread recipe,” he declared. “Nutmeg.”

Regina scoffed. “How can you call it a secret ingredient if you just told everyone what it was?”

“I didn’t say how much I used,” he said, smugly, crossing his arms over his chest. “So, it’s still a secret.”

After the judging was complete, all the ingredients for personal pizzas were pulled out of the fridge and everyone set to making their own dinner. The big meal would be enjoyed on Christmas Day.

Once dinner was eaten and the kitchen cleaned up, Marco pulled out his banjo and started picking out favorite Christmas carols. Regina sat down at the piano while Ruby, David, and Emma went to collect their violin, flute, and guitar, respectively.

Beverly felt the tears sting her eyes as her family made music together. It had been over a decade since this had last happened and she never realized how much she missed it. With David gone to the ends of the earth, literally, plus their schedule and how rarely they were able to visit with all three of their daughters, she’d had to bury that desire and longing for her entire family to be together in the depths of her heart. And now, the complete happiness and joy threatened to overflow. 

The musicians smoothly transitioned between songs, the chord progressions and accompaniment coming back as if they’d been practicing together for weeks. Beverly had to stop singing, the lump in her throat too big to overcome, and just listen to the blend of voices. Maurice sat beside her on the sofa, Hunter cradled in his arms, and leaned over to whisper in her ear.

“I know what Marco told me all those years ago,” he began, “but I would just about give my eye teeth to get all of you in a recording studio.” He moved away from her with a knowing and speculative gleam in his eye. Beverly laughed and patted him on the knee.

“I think you’d have an easier time setting up a recording studio right here in this room, than getting all these people together again.”

He looked back out over the crowded room. “Oh, I’m not so sure about that,” he mused.

“What do you mean?”

“Look at the smiles on everyone’s faces,” he said. “I know it’s hard to coordinate schedules between this many different families, but I have a feeling this is something everyone here is going to want to continue for many years to come.”

Beverly sighed. “I’d give anything…”

Maurice smiled gently at her and patted her knee. “So would I,” he assured her, his eyebrows rising. “Think about it.”

Taking a deep breath, Beverly joined her voice to the chorus of voices around her. The soft strands of Silent Night accompanied only by David on his flute and Ruby on her violin poured over her, and she closed her eyes and let herself drift on the music. She raised a prayer of thankfulness for this time together and determined to never take it for granted as the song came to an end.

Beverly opened her eyes and surveyed the scene in front of her. The babies were sound asleep in the arms of Maurice, Graham, and Killian, and Dale’s eyes were glazed over with exhaustion while Henry was in the middle of a jaw-popping yawn.

“I believe it’s time for bed, my loves,” Marco said quietly. The boys joined together in a disappointed awwww, but everyone else was smiling or nodding their agreement. Couples rose and joined together as parents gathered the children and began herding them off to bed.

“Christmas breakfast here at 9, and then presents after,” Emma told everyone. “We’ll see everyone in the morning.”

Murmurs of good night, see you in the morning, and Merry Christmas followed everyone out until the quiet of Christmas Eve and the snow-covered landscape outside enveloped both houses as everyone found their beds and fell into the dreams of home, the dreams of love, the dreams of family.

~*~*~

Christmas Day was everything Christmas dreams were made of. Snow still blanketed the ground, Christmas breakfast was delicious and plentiful, and the enormous pile of presents under the tree was utterly demolished- with everyone very pleased with the gifts received. Liam did get his revenge on Killian for his surreptitious ambush the day before when the men and boys engaged in another round of the snowball fight. Then the boys spent the rest of the afternoon engaging in an epic Nerf gun battle since they’d been gifted a veritable arsenal. Now it was time for Christmas dinner. Everyone gathered around the enormous dining room table for the blessing before loading up their plates with the feast that had been prepared by the ladies of the family.

“Before we have the blessing,” David said, standing from his place at the table, “we have an announcement to make.”

“So do we,” Robin said with a smile before nodding at David to continue. David looked down at Mary Margaret, whose cheeks were colored with a pretty blush as she looked at her husband and nodded. 

“Mary Margaret and I are excited to announce that we’re expecting…” Loud cheers from around the table interrupted his words, and David grinned widely before sitting down again and nodding at Robin across the table from him.

Robin rose to his feet as the cheering died down and asked the question everyone wanted to know.

“When are you due?”

“August 6th,” Mary Margaret said.

“Congratulations,” he said, sincerely before looking around the table at everyone gathered. “Regina and I have our own announcement, as well. We are also expecting.” More cheers interrupted his words, as Marco stood from his seat and moved around the table to hug Regina tightly. When the cheers died away again, Robin continued. “We’re due at the end of August,” he said, looking at David. “The 29th.”

Marco stayed where he was, his arm around Regina’s shoulders and asked everyone to bow their heads.

“Father in Heaven,” Marco began, “we thank You for the many blessings You’ve given this family. Material blessings, yes, but so much more. The blessings of how You’ve brought this family back together and expanded it is more than we ever hoped or dreamed. You’ve been so good to us, and we thank You for it. We thank You for the gift of Your Son, Whose birth we celebrate today. We pray that Your hand would continue to be upon us and all those we love. We pray for both these pregnancies, that You would keep Your hand on the mothers as well as the children they carry and bring them to a successful birth this summer. We pray that You will bring us all together again next year, if not before. Now, please bless this food that we are about to receive. May it nourish our bodies and spirits. In Jesus’ name, Amen.”

As everyone trooped into the kitchen to dish up their plates, Marco looked over his family and felt like his heart would burst with the blessings that had been showered on him. He didn’t know what the future held, but with the love binding the Swan, Jones, and Humbert families together, there was no doubt the future was a bright and happy one.

The End

~*~*~

Thank you all so much for reading and sharing!!! Merry Christmas!!

[zaharadessert]

Get Your Motor Running

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: cnc

Length: 6k

Summary: Emma Nolan is driving home to Storybrooke having finished college, when her car breaks down. With no cell service the only thing in walking distance is the local biker bar...

Notes: So this has been sitting in a folder for ages, and I was inspired by a drawing from @wild-werewolf that someone shared with me today to post it. So here it is! Art (when I stip Having arguments with the hosting site...) by me, Beta is the lovely @kmomof4

Tagging: @kmomof4 @teamhook @winterbaby89 @jonesfandonfanatic @undercaffinatednightmare @anmylica @elfiola @booksteaandtoomuchtv @tiganasummertree @motherkatereloyshipper @xarandomdreamx @myfearless-love @lfh1226-linda @pawshapedheart @xhookswenchx @wefoundloveunderthelight @superchocovian @onceratheart18 @snowbellewells @karlyfr13s @itsfabianadocarmo @ouatpost @ultraluckycatnd @thepirateandhisson @xsajx @captainswan21 @spaceconveyor @pirateprincessofpizza @sparlecorn93 @hollyethecurious @ammelia

As always, let me know if you’d like me to add you to my taglist for future fics :) Apologies, 90% of my taglist appears to be refusing to tag people and I can't work out why??? ugh.

Complete story on AO3

- - - - -

The coastal road into her home town was picturesque and full of nostalgia, if Emma had been driving it during the day. But it was late and the once familiar, narrow, winding road was instead treacherous and foreboding. She’d hoped to be driving it as the sun was setting, making the most of the view. But with issues getting out of the city due to roadwork, then accidents and uncommonly bad traffic on the interstate, she was running about four hours behind schedule.

It seemed her run of bad luck was far from over. She rounded a particularly tricky corner and the engine started to sputter. By some miracle, there was a view stop she could pull into and she managed to get clear of the road just as the engine died completely.

Emma could have raged and screamed with frustration, only about twenty to twenty-five minutes from her parents house. Instead, she sighed, rolling her grip around the steering wheel and letting her head rest on it for a moment, tears welling in her eyes.

She took a couple of deep breaths and shoved the door open, stepping out of the car and popping the hood on the back of her bug. There was a bit of steam, and some hissing but nothing obvious that she could see. All the fluid levels had read as normal for what she’d expect after a long journey, but maybe this was just a few miles too many for her trusty vessel.

She shook her head and slammed the lid shut. Grabbing her phone off the front seat, she found she had no signal. It was spotty at best out here, but she hadn’t expected her car to die, either… Her battery was super low, and she knew by the time she’d walked far enough to find a signal, it would probably be dead and with no way to charge it because her car was out of commission.

She should have put it on charge when she got stuck in traffic just past Boston, but she had been cut off by that asshole in a Toyota and had completely forgotten. And now, here she was. On five percent battery, with no signal, on a winding road in the middle of the night.

[searchingwardrobes]

Scarborough Fair: 8/?

I apologize for the long wait for this chapter! We just moved into a new house, and at first we didn't have internet. I also felt that every spare moment needed to be spent unpacking and getting the house all set up. I finally escaped to Barnes and Noble to write because I just can't do it at home right now! Anyways, I hope the contents of this chapter make it up to you. We're getting to the good stuff ;)

Is the situation Emma is in as a pregnant foster teen accurate? I really have no idea, but it's in the book Impossible that this is based on. I also have no idea if you can make a shirt like that. Again, I'm going by the book Impossible. I'm not following it exactly, but those two plot points were kind of important, so I left them in. Anyways, things are going to keep getting steamier from here on out, though our lovers are far from out of danger. Plus, we've still got Snow, David, and their kingdom out there somewhere, so hang on, folks! It's gonna be a romantic yet bumpy ride.

Summary: Seventeen-year-old Emma Swan has had a charmed life, despite being a foster child. She has a wonderful family who loves her, and the best friends in the world. The only thing that mars her idyllic existence is her birth mother: a homeless woman who mutters nonsensical rhymes and claims to be Snow White. One fateful night, however, Emma’s world is shattered. Perhaps her mother’s rhymes aren’t nonsense after all.

Rated: M for date rape, dubious consent, teen pregnancy, and sexy times (the good kind!)

Words: Over 3k in this chapter

Chapter One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six

Also on Ao3

Tagging:  (let me know if you wish to be removed or added):  @snowbellewells @teamhook @kmomof4 @jrob64 @xhookswenchx-reads-blog @thisonesatellite @welllpthisishappening @spartanguard @ohmakemeahercules @tiganasummertree @sparlecorn93 @sals86 @pirateprincessofpizza @xarandomdreamx @zaharadessert @huntressandlioness1 @jamif @undercaffinatednightmare @onceratheart18 @sparlecorn93 @sals86 @pirateprincessofpizza @xarandomdreamx @zaharadessert @huntressandlioness1 @jonesfandomfanatic​ @hollyethecurious​

Chapter Eight:

The entire family jumped right in to help Emma solve the riddle that had defeated her mother. Liam dove back into every bit of research he had accumulated about the song Scarborough Fair. He and Ingrid met with the art professor he had mentioned who had done her dissertation on textiles. Elsa talked to the scientists on board ship and zoomed with the family every single day. Even Anna found her niche, taking Emma to the library and helping her check out every book available about pregnancy and childbirth. 

And Killian? He was the rock she could lean on. The one who made her smile or laugh just when things got too heavy. He also ran whatever errands he needed to: taking Emma to her first prenatal appointment, shopping for a long list of different types of fabrics at the craft store to make this impossible shirt, and going for a late night ice cream run when Emma’s cravings started. In some ways, nothing changed.

Yet his declaration of love still hung in the air. He hadn’t brought it up again, hadn’t treated her any differently, hadn’t asked her on a date or tried to get physical. He was giving her space to decide what she wanted, and it honestly was the sweetest thing anyone had ever done for her. 

At the same time, Emma was confused. She had always loved Killian, of course. But was it romantic love? She could even admit she had been physically attracted to him at times, but did that mean she was in love with him? Did she even want something like that right now, when she was processing having a kid of all things and still healing from a violent rape? Did Killian fully understand what he would be getting himself into? Did she want to burden him with all her crap? 

She was just completely and utterly confused. 

Then, as if she didn’t have enough to worry about, Ingrid came home one day from work visibly shaken. The entire family stilled in the process of getting dinner on the table when they saw her standing in the kitchen, her face ashen. 

“What is it?” Liam asked, his voice filled with dread.

“Emma,” she said, her voice choking on her foster daughter’s name, “Liam and I need to talk to you. Immediately.”

Killian found Emma later, sobbing in her bed. When she poured it all out to him, he was livid. 

“This is absolute shit! I can’t believe they would do that!”

“They would, and they can,” Emma explained as she hugged her pillow to her torso. “Because I’m still technically in foster care, my baby automatically is, too.”

“They can’t just take it away from you!”

Emma shrugged. “Ingrid and Liam are no longer licensed to take in infants. I either have to find somewhere else to live, or my baby will be put in a different foster home.”

“Can’t they just get licensed?”

Emma shook her head. “It’s a year-long process of paperwork and visitations from social workers. I’m due in five months! Killian, what am I going to do? Where am I going to go?”

She began to sob again, and when Killian eased into the bed next to her and put his arms around her, he could feel the small swell at her abdomen where her baby was growing. He felt a strong desire to protect them both. 

“We won’t let them take you or the baby away from us. We’re a family.”

“That’s what your brother said. Exactly.”

Killian chuckled. “Of course he did.”

“But Killian,” she choked out, “what happens if I don’t solve the riddle? I was comforted at least knowing my baby would be safe and raised by Ingrid and Liam, but now . . .”

She sobbed again against his chest, and he held her tight. “I won’t let that happen,” he vowed. “You aren’t going to go mad, Emma, you won’t. We’ll solve this. All of it. Together.”

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

The only time Emma’s family ever used the formal dining room was on Thanksgiving. Someone always had to actually dust the table and air out the room, but Ingrid always insisted they “do Thanksgiving right,” even down to the old chipped china plates with the maple leaf border. 

So it felt odd to be in here now with the warm summer sun spilling through the window and shining on the ancient area rug. Assorted fabrics littered the table and a sewing mannequin stood in the corner, the headless and limbless torso sending an ominous shiver down Emma’s spine. 

“So this one is probably our best bet,” Ingrid explained. 

She cradled the bundle of scratchy, thick fabric and held it out to Emma who reached out and ran her hand over the coarse woolen felt. 

“That feels like it would make the most uncomfortable shirt in the history of the world.”

Ingrid shrugged. “Does it really matter? You wet this fabric, mold it to that torso over there, and according to Dr. Freemont, when it dries, it will hold together.”

Emma took the fabric and nodded. “So then we have it. A shirt made without needle or seam.”

“Who’s gonna wear it, though?”

Ingrid and Emma whirled around at the sound of Killian’s voice. Emma’s mouth went dry immediately. He stood there, his hair wet with sweat, and his chest bare. Emma couldn’t stop staring at it. She used to think chest hair was gross. She was wrong. Killian’s was thick and dark, and it set her pulse pounding. Realizing just how long she’d been ogling him, she dragged her gaze up to his face. He gave her a knowing grin as he lifted a carton of milk to his mouth and took a swig. 

“Where the hell is your shirt?” Emma snapped.

“Where the hell is your glass,” Ingrid added drily. “You’re not the only one who might like some milk, you know.”

“I just got home from work, and I’m hot,” Killian responded, as if that explained everything.

Emma tried really, really hard not to think of the other connotation of the word hot, but she was failing. Killian hadn’t brought up his declaration since that fateful dinner last week, and Emma was still trying to process it. Yet ever since, she was hyper aware of Killian’s presence. 

His lack of a shirt didn’t help, either. 

“Pour that milk in a glass, Killian, I’m not kidding,” Ingrid said in her rarely used mom voice. 

“Sure,” Killian said, sauntering back towards the kitchen. He gave Emma one more backwards glance with a delighted smirk on his face. Emma’s face heated several degrees. 

“I think I know what he means, though,” Ingrid sighed.

“What?” Emma asked, her head still a little fuzzy.

“Is it really a shirt unless someone actually wears it?” 

Emma sighed in exasperation. “So have someone wear it.”

“I’ll do it.”

They whirled back around to find Killian standing in the doorway again. He had a glass of milk in one hand and a stack of Oreos in the other. He still hadn’t donned a shirt. Emma found herself staring again, admiring the way a summer working in construction had toned his muscles. She dropped the fabric she’d been clutching in her hands and swore under her breath as it rolled across the floor. Killian smirked at her, and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to slap it off his face or kiss him senseless. 

“Well,” Ingrid said, seemingly oblivious to the sexual tension in the room, “if Killian’s going to wear it, then that makes things a little more complicated.”

“Why?” Emma and Killian asked simultaneously. He had stepped further into the room, and his close proximity almost made Emma lose hold of the fabric she’d just stooped to pick up. 

“Well, if we mold the shirt to that torso over there, and it dries, I don’t think it will fit him.”

“So measure me,” Killian said, taking a bite of a cookie. His back was to Emma now as he addressed Ingrid, and it was just as distracting as the front of him. He had freckles across his shoulders, and a few along the small of his back. 

“That won’t work.” Ingrid shook her head. “The fabric doesn’t work that way. Not if we’re trying to make it without needle or seam. We’ll have to mold it to your body.”

Emma gave a little squeak at Ingrid’s words and nearly dropped the fabric all over again. To Killian’s credit, he didn’t acknowledge her reaction.

“What would that entail?” he asked casually, taking a sip of his milk. 

“I’m not sure,” Ingrid mused, tapping her finger on her chin. 

Silence fell for a moment, the only sounds from Killian snacking on his milk and cookies. Then Ingrid suddenly clapped her hands together. 

“I’ve got it! Duct tape!”

Killian’s eyes widened. “If you wrap me in duct tape, you’ll never get it off. Not without taking my skin with it.”

“You could wear a shirt,” Emma said. 

“You made that clear already,” Killian smirked at her. “I told you, I’m hot.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “I mean for the duct tape. You wear a white undershirt, I wrap it in tape, then I can put the shirt, molded to your torso, on the mannequin. Then I make the shirt.”

“You’d need to be wearing the shirt when she tapes it,” Ingrid clarified. 

“I figured that,” Killian nodded.

Emma’s throat went suddenly dry. She’d have to put her hands on his body. She’d have to be in extremely close proximity to him. She was equal parts giddy at the thought and terrified. She was light-headed just thinking about it. 

“Perfect,” Killian announced with a grin. “When do we start?”

Emma wanted to ask Ingrid if she would do it for her, but she couldn’t risk that. The riddle implied that Emma had to make the shirt herself. She steeled herself and turned to Killian. 

“Shower so you don’t stink, and then we’ll get to work.”

“As you wish,” he told her with a mock bow before he turned from the room.

Ingrid, still oblivious to the fact that Emma was practically swooning and trembling simultaneously, turned away from the dining room table and grabbed her purse from a nearby chair. 

“Since you’ve got this under control, I’ll head to the supermarket. Anything you need?”

Slightly dazed, Emma managed to shake her head “no.”

“Great, I’ll see you kids later.”

In the kitchen, Killian rinsed his dirty glass and put it in the dishwasher. He smiled to himself as he headed up the stairs. He hadn’t pressed Emma in any way since his declaration. Whether she shared his feelings or not, he’d told himself, he would still be there for her. Yet the way she’d reacted to him just now gave him hope. Maybe he would win her heart after all. 

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

“Sit right here,” Emma instructed, pointing to the dinner room chair directly in front of her. Killian obeyed, and when he looked up at her, his eyes didn’t hold teasing as she’d expected. They were tender and vulnerable. Emma swallowed nervously.

“Don’t be nervous,” he told her.

“I’m not,” she scoffed.

“You’re holding that roll of tape so hard, your knuckles are turning white.”

Emma scowled at him and pulled a long strip of tape from the roll. He blanched, and she laughed.

“Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you,” she told him. 

He swallowed, and she followed the motion of his adam’s apple. She licked her lips as she drew closer, touching his arm gently as she raised it.

 “I’ll start with the sleeves,” she explained unnecessarily. 

She had to slip her fingers beneath the fabric to make sure she didn’t accidentally tape his skin. She thought she heard an intake of breath from his throat as her fingers skimmed his bicep, but maybe she’d imagined it. She wound the tape around and around the sleeve of his shirt, but when she began to wrap it around his shoulder blade, she had to step closer to him. He spread his legs to allow it, and she leaned over him, her breasts pressing against his collarbone. The sharpness of breath this time was impossible to ignore. She paused and locked eyes with him - he face was so close to hers . . . 

“Did I hurt you?”

He pressed his lips together and shook his head, so she continued. Was his breathing becoming shallow, or was that her? Was that his heart thumping so fast, or her own? When she wrapped the tape around his chest, she could feel a “thump, thump” beneath her palm. 

“Um, Emma, give me a second.”

Killian grabbed a throw pillow from the wingback chair in the corner of the dining room then resumed his seat. He clutched the pillow in his lap, and his face flamed all the way to the tips of his ears. 

“Oh,” Emma breathed softly. 

Killian swallowed thickly. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Emma said, her own cheeks warm. 

“I just don’t want to freak you out . . . or scare you or anything. You know, because . . . because of him.”

Emma shook her head, tendrils of hair brushing her cheeks where they fell from the messy bun on the top of her head. She bit her lip as she got lost in his eyes; darker than usual and stormy. She stepped close again, between his legs, and she almost laughed when he clutched the pillow tighter. 

  “Emma,” he groaned, his eyes falling shut. 

“I’m glad,” she said, her own voice deep and trembling, “that I have that effect on you.”

“You do?” 

He opened his eyes, and she nodded. Her hands shook as she lifted them and rested them upon his temples. She threaded her fingers through his hair. It was softer than she had imagined. He tipped his head back and watched her intently. She thought of him the other night, stating so matter-of-factly that he loved her. He had said it as something unshakable and infallible. Something as predictable and steady as the seasons. Then they had gone on as they always had, with no demands that she respond to his declaration in any way. 

“And you could never scare me, Killian,” she clarified. 

Then, suddenly, she was kissing him. She was kissing Killian in the middle of the dining room. His torso was half wrapped in duct tape, he was helping her make this crazy, ridiculous, magical shirt . . . 

And she was kissing him. He was kissing her back. He was kissing her back after declaring his love for her at the kitchen table. He was kissing her thoroughly, his tongue exploring her mouth, even though she hadn’t said it back.  Or maybe it didn’t matter, she wasn’t sure. After all, this was only the second boy she’d ever kissed. But no, she wasn’t going to think about that or him. Not when Killian was kissing her within an inch of her life.

The pillow he was clutching fell to the floor when he wrapped his arms around her, and Emma could feel his arousal through his jeans and pressing into her. For a split second, fear tried to grab hold of her, but it was banished quickly. He wouldn’t just take her; he wasn’t like that. 

Killian pulled away, and Emma was shocked to hear a whimper slip past her lips, especially when he stood up from the chair and took a step back. Why was he pulling away, when they - oh.

He was sinking down on one knee, and she suddenly wondered if she were dreaming. It all felt so surreal, and he was still half wrapped in duct tape. Maybe Snow had whacked her in the head with one of those bottles after all, and all this time she’d been in a coma at the hospital. It would explain so much, honestly. 

“Emma,” he said, (and were those tears gathering in his eyes?), “I know this is a lot to ask of you, since you haven’t even told me yet how you feel about me. And this is something I think I always knew I would do eventually, just not now.” 

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before opening them and continuing. His words reverberated in her soul, and she knew he was right, they were always going to arrive here, somehow. She knew it the same way she knew her own reflection. 

“But with everything going on, I don’t want to wait. I know you face an uncertain future, Emma, but I always want to be by your side. So, will you marry me?” He didn’t even pause for her answer, but plunged ahead. “It makes so much sense, if you think about it. I mean, we’re going to break this curse, Emma, we will. We won’t give up, ever. But, I know you worry, and if I’m your husband, you won’t have to. You’ll know I’ll be there for the baby. It will be mine, legally. It won’t end up in foster care. Not that anything’s going to happen to you, I swear to you it won’t, but if I can ease your burden . . .”

He trailed off, and Emma sank to her knees right along with him, reaching out to cup his face in her hands. 

“And if I do go insane -”

“You won’t!”

“But if we don’t break the curse . . .”

“I’ll take care of you,” he said solemnly, “always and forever.”

It would be selfish of her, she knew that it would, to ask that of him. Nevertheless, his vow felt like the sun breaking through the darkest of clouds, and she knew she couldn’t refuse his gift. Her hands slipped down his shoulders, then his arms, and she clasped his hands tightly in hers. 

“I love you.”

It wasn’t, she discovered, difficult to say. It was just so true, so undeniable, like how she knew the sun would come up each morning. His smile was bright and blinding, and she smiled too at the sight of his dimples. They had been so rare lately. 

“Does that mean yes?” he asked her teasingly. 

A tear slipped down her face, and she found she couldn’t speak. She nodded, and he understood. Everyone would say they were crazy, of course. He was nineteen, and she was seventeen. It was absolutely insane. Ingrid and Liam wouldn’t like it, she was sure, but she also knew they wouldn’t stop them.

 He dried her tears with his thumb, then traced her lips before kissing her tenderly. The kiss continued as they clung to one another in blissful, shining faith and hope. In that moment, she believed him: They would break the curse. 

Emma and Killian were so wrapped up in one another, they didn’t notice the slight shaking of the house or the rainbow colored light that swept through the room. 

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

It wasn’t the first time Robert Gold had entered the Swan/Jones home when the family was gone. He had explored every nook and cranny, flipped through photographs, smelled their clothes. He knew this family; every weakness to be exploited had been sifted and examined. 

Yet the house had never protested like it did today, and when he turned towards the dining room, he could clearly see why. 

It was a shirt. Hideous, smelly, and dripping wet, but a shirt nonetheless. When it dried, it could even be worn. 

“Well, well, well,” he muttered, reaching out a hand towards it. 

Almost immediately, he recoiled, the shirt burning him before he’d even grazed it. Magic radiated from it. The glamor spell he always wore faded, and his hands turned a scaly green, nails yellowed and gnarled at each finger tip. It wasn’t just the shirt, he realized. The entire dining room reeked with the magic, and he was in pain from the top of his head to the bottom of his feet. 

“Of course you’re in pain, Dark One.”

He writhed on the ground and cried out as a much younger face pulled away from his ancient, twisted one. 

“Stop fighting me!”

“I’m doing all this for you, son!”

“Are you, Papa?”

“I got her for you, didn’t I?”

“But I can’t keep her!”

The Dark One could no longer hold onto the shared body, and the younger man stood to his feet, opened the front door, and walked out onto the sidewalk. Neal Cassidy was the name he preferred in this realm, a name that Rumplestiltskin hated. Baelfire was his name: a strong, powerful name.

“Oh Papa,” Baelfire - Neal - whispered, “settle down and cooperate.”

“You know I’ll take over again eventually.”

Neal didn’t argue. Instead he clenched his jaw and gritted his next words through his teeth. 

“This won’t work forever. You’re losing, and you know it.”

“They only finished the first task. They’ll never complete the rest. Not in time, anyway.”

“But that magic - you know exactly what that was.”

Ah yes, he did. True love. He wasn’t worried. The Dark One had defeated true love before, and he would do it again.

[hollyethecurious]

Six Sentence Sunday - 1/8/23

It was a relatively productive week for me. After not really working on any of my wips for MONTHS, I set a goal to write, or at least average, 300 words per day. I came in at just over 2200 words for the week, with several hundred on the next chapter of Pan Says..., and a large chunk from the wip I’ll be sharing from today.

This week’s six(ish) sentences comes from my tentatively titled Law of Surprise fic. While the premise of the fic is inspired by the practice indicated in the title, the story itself is not connected to The Witcher universe, from which the idea came.

The entire ship had gone silent, with only the snapping of the sails and splash of waves against the hull daring to compete with the Queen’s words. Sun gleamed off the surface of the hook, still held in Liam’s hand, and Killian swallowed tightly as he took it in his own. Holding it up, he considered how this seemingly inconsequential piece of equipment had changed the course of his life, and with the Law of Surprise still owed to him by the King, the greatest of those changes were as yet unknown to him. Queen Snow was right. He could think of no other attachment that would be more fitting for whatever the fates might have in store for him.

Positioning the hook into the end of the brace, he gave it a firm turn until it clicked into place, restoring a piece of himself he never thought he’d get back. Clearing his throat, Killian shifted his posture, bringing himself to full height, faced his brother, and asked, “What are your orders, Captain?”

What should I work on this week?

Pan Says...

Law of Surprise

A Necessary Evil

Tagging the Curious Crew: (add to tag list)

(Please be advised that I only keep one tag list for all fic updates and new works. If at any time you wish to be removed, just shoot me an ask or a DM. No worries.)

@paradiselady19 @aprilqueen84 @kmomof4 @mie779 @donteattheappleshook @stahlop @anmylica @undercaffinatednightmare @zaharadessert @karl0ta @booksteaandtoomuchtv @courtorderedcake @superchocovian @pirateherokillian @ultraluckycatnd @jennjenn615 @the-darkdragonfly @jonesfandomfanatic @wyntereyez @xarandomdreamx @teamhook @winterbaby89 @justanother-unluckysoul @whimsicallyenchantedrose @badwolfreturns @deckerstarblanche @tiganasummertree @jrob64 @resident-of-storybrooke @motherkatereloyshipper @lfh1226-linda @youherotype @kday426 @snowbellewells @alexa-fangirl-forever @allons-y-to-hogwarts-713 @unworried-corsair @justanotherflailgirl @sals86 @natascha-ronin @livykatelin00-blog @jackieorioncat @annep1 

[cssns]

CSSNS Get to Know Me!

Please welcome @zaharadessert!

How long have you been in the CS/OUAT fandom?

Since 2020

When did you start shipping Captain Swan?

I watched the show so late I kinda knew they were a thing already, so... yeah. I was all in the moment they met.

What drew you to this event?

Krystal bribed me :P

What inspired your topic?

Krystal put up a prompt... so I changed my entire idea. And then wrote most of it in 2 days.

If you would like to share a snippet/sneak peek/summary of your fic or artwork, please use the space below.

She struggled and cried out in protest but there was nothing to be done. The chill of the stone crept into her body. She could feel it sapping her strength and making it harder to concentrate on fighting what was being done, stealing away the hope in her heart.  All her parents had done to train her to protect herself, and… it was all she could do to lay there. Like the pathetic damsel in the stories princes and knights loved to tell.   Despair joined the fear encasing her heart as the cultists moved around her, painting more symbols on the floor.   Emma’s eyes flicked frantically around her, looking for anything to help her escape.  The cult leader arranged her dress- making the sleeves lie perfectly around the chains- splayed her hair around her head in a fan of gold, and smoothed down the wrinkles in the dirtied lace. Every time she tried to move the chains tightened a little more. He rounded the altar and stood by her head, drawing from the depths of his cloak a distinctive dagger, the edge curving wickedly like waves and held it over her body. He started to chant and she struggled against the chains until she couldn’t hold back the tears of pain any longer.   She let them fall, the heat of them almost burning her cold skin as she let out one desperate whisper as she closed her eyes.  

“Please, help me.”

Who/what have you beta'd before, or is this your first time?

I've beta'd the last couple of years for this.

What are you looking forward to most about participating in this event?

Actually finishing the damn thing before my post date, maybe???   Nah, I love reading what everyone else comes up with and getting excited about writing together and about who is dropping what next.

We’re very excited to see what @zaharadessert has in store for us when her story drops on July 21st!

[booksteaandtoomuchtv]

Witchy Woman (0.5/10)

AO3 | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

LOOK AT THIS STUNNING ARTWORK BY @cocohook38

Summary: When Emma came into her position as Storybrooke Coven Leader, she ended things with the powerful Vampire Overlord, Killian Jones. She’s spent over a decade working alongside him and ignoring the growing tension between them.

During his best mate’s wedding, Killian decides he is done waiting. He is ready to have his mate back in his arms (and bed) again. Emma is not an easy woman to woo, but Killian has never backed down from a challenge.

When Emma’s jilted ex-boyfriend returns to town and Emma goes missing, Killian will stop at nothing to get her back and ensure that nothing can ever separate them again.

Rating: E

CW: Mention of domestic abuse, blood and blood drinking (vampires), threatening situations, minor violence, death, mention of parental death

Entry for Captain Swan Supernatural Summer 2023 (@cssns)

Tagging: @kmomof4, @undercaffinatednightmare, @jrob64, @zaharadessert, @elfiola, @anmylica, @tiganasummertree, @stahlop, @xarandomdreamx, @teamhook

Author Notes: Some aspects of this are based on the Stay a Spell series by Juliette Cross. If you haven’t read them, the books are very fun paranormal romance novels that you can devour in a week and apparently keep thinking about them for a few years until you do a rewrite and make it your CSSNS fic. (For clarity: The storyline is new, but the relationship arc is loosely Ruben and Jules.) I hope everyone has had an incredible Captain Swan Supernatural Summer. It has been such a treat reading everyone's amazing stories and seeing all the lovely art.

I could not have written this without the cheering and support of @kmomof4 and many other ladies on the CSMM Discord. They continue to be the most encouraging group. I am always excited to share my silly words and little sketches with them.

A massive thank you to @ultraluckycatnd for her time, patience, and feedback. Beta-ing is always hard work. Beta-ing for a self-conscious tinkerer is all the more challenging. Thank you!

A tremendous thank you to @cocohook38 for the beautiful artwork. I have always adored your work and having something drawn by you that was ‘inspired’ by my silly words is a bit of a dream come true. (I squealed with utter delight upon seeing your initial sketches the first time. AMAZING!!) Thank you! <3 <3 <3

As always, a thank you is owed to my spouse for being "volunteered" to be the alpha-reader and writing partner for this fic and for bringing so many cups of hot tea and snack plates at odd hours.

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

Fifteen Years Ago…

Emma’s breath caught at the beauty of the vampire before her; the waves of his dark hair begged her to run her hands through it, his sharp jaw, framed by auburn stubble, was softened by a crooked smile that was melting her resolve. She didn’t think she would ever get used to the way just the sight of him affected her. It wouldn’t be a problem much longer.

They’d only been together for a few weeks, but Emma felt lost in the depth of the connection that she shared with Killian. He seemed to read her moods and her thoughts as naturally as breathing and she felt him as if he were an extension of her own heart and mind.

As she approached where he worked, she tucked those thoughts away.

When he looked up at her and cocked his head, eyebrow raised, she savoured the adoration and openness that she saw in his eyes. She wasn’t ready for him to stop looking at her as if she were the most incredible thing that had ever happened to him. Just rip off the band-aid, Emma.

His expression changed to one of concern as he took in her erratic heartbeat and the sour scent of stress radiating from her. “Swan?”

The gentleness of his voice and the worry in his tone made her eyes prickle. She held on tightly to the tears; she would not cry. Not yet.

“Killian, I can’t… we can’t…” Her voice was stronger than she expected, but the words tore at the depths of her soul and shattered her heart. She took a breath and stored her heart away - the burning and ripping sensation too much to bear - before she continued. “We’re done.”

“Do I get a say in this?” Killian asked. The words were mild and light as if he were asking after their supper plans, but his eyes were narrowed- gauging the situation and seeking out alternate avenues.

Emma let out a humourless laugh. “It won’t change anything. We can’t be together.”

He stared at her for a long moment, before he replied. When he did speak, his voice was broken with emotion, “One day, Emma, you will have to open your heart for someone. If ever you are done playing the coward, I hope that you will find whatever it is that I couldn’t give you. And, I truly hope that you never feel even a quarter of the pain that I feel now.”

A storm of emotions flashed in his eyes, but he quickly hid it away beneath the calm and collected demeanour he had honed over the centuries of his long life. He kissed her gently on the forehead before he vanished into the evening.

Once he was too far for her to sense, her knees buckled and the ground rushed to catch her. His warm embrace was replaced by the damp grass soaking through her jeans. As her tears fell heavily down her face, she balled up against the sobs slamming through her. She was in too many pieces scattered about too effectively to ever be whole again.