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wholoveseggs · 10 months ago

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Sitting Pretty

this gif is......whewwwwwww.... bless you Daniel.

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

Pure filth, zero plot.

♡♡ Just something I wrote originally for Princess {which is my unexpectedly most popular fic...} I decided its too good not to share... enjoy! ♡♡

1.7k words - Warnings: pure smut, dom!Elijah, sex in front of a mirror, fingering, lots of praise, anal sex, riding & aftercare...

♡♡ Tag-List ♡♡

Trying to fix my tags! I re-added all of you, and now you will be posted at the top! If you no longer wished to be tagged just shoot me a DM {I won't be offended} xoxo~

@gorgeouslydangerous @starkleila @lydia1369sworld @notleylaaa @vampiresluv

@myanmy @xflowerbombxo @maryvibess @always-and-forever-daydreaming

@spnaquakindgdom @amournoir @meeom @damienmorton @wickedmuse

@cs-please @complicatedandconfusing-25 @youcanhavemybuckanyday @akala6670229 @yeaiamme2

@itsjulzandmydiamonds @spideysbabe @witch-of-letters @elijahstwink @rosecentury

@amanda08319 @starshipcookie @li-da-savage @veggie-eggrolls @spideybv28

@sunkissedebony97 @idk00sblog @savannaounana @sekaishell @b1tchy

@loving-and-dreaming @fancycassie-stayfancy @hcqwxrtss123 @iamawkwardandshy @ziayamikaelson

Elijah moved his finger back and forth over the damp fabric, just light little touches over the swollen nub peeking through. He could see you were biting down on your lower lip, trying not to make any noise.

"lijah..." you moaned, your legs were shaking, your whole body wanted him to move faster or harder but he was set on bringing you to release with soft and teasing touches over your drenched panties. Your breathing had increased and your eyes fluttered closed.

"Eyes on the mirror, sweetheart. I want you to watch yourself come undone for me."

You whimpered at his words but obeyed, eyes flicking up to the mirror that you both sat in front of, his hard chest pressed against your back and his lips on your neck. Your legs wide open and resting over his knees, allowing him the space he needed to continue his soft torture on your pussy.

"You look so beautiful like this. All worked up, flushed and needy, such a pretty picture." He nipped at your ear, moving the pad of his index finger in slow circles.

You groaned and tried to buck your hips into his hand, desperately wanting more friction but Elijah wouldn't allow it.

"Patience, my sweet girl." His voice was low and rumbling through your chest.

He felt your little nub swell against his touches, pushing forward under the fabric, begging for more friction from his experienced hands.

"You're close, aren't you my darling? All hot and wet for me. I love how you blush, it goes all the way down your pretty neck, and makes your nipples so hard and perfect..."

"Please Elijah..." You pleaded out, lifting your hips against his hand, grinding into his fingers, grabbing on to the blankets on the bed. Your eyes fluttered as he responded to your plea by upping his speed, still taking his time, but working hard over your swollen little clit.

"I love your pretty little pussy, all pink and creamy." Elijah said as he circled your opening and felt how slick it was under the cotton, he could feel the heat of it just radiating outward, your sweet little pussy was drenched and open for him to do with whatever he wished.

He pushed the fabric aside, his long middle finger slowly sinking into your soaked cunt, feeling you flutter and grip down on his digit.

"Watch how beautifully you swallow my finger, so wet and tight." Elijah whispered as his lips moved from your ear to your neck. His finger moving firmly, yet slowly in and out, letting you feel every single inch.

You panted, the sensation building as he curled his finger in and out of you, his thumb pressing against your clit and rubbing in small circles. Your legs shook, your mouth dropped open, and your back arched as you tried to stop from falling apart.

"Such a good girl, waiting for my permission," Elijah murmured into your ear, watching your expression through the mirror.

He moved his thumb faster, feeling you swell and tighten around his finger, he pushed in a second finger, stretching you, and curled his fingers inside you, pressing and massaging your g-spot as he rubbed your clit.

"Come for me,"

The moment the command left his mouth, you came undone. A sudden gush of wetness soaked his hand and wrist, dripping down to the sheets underneath. Your whole body trembled, his name leaving your lips repeatedly as your release shook your whole body

"Perfect angel," Elijah praised you, holding you to him with one strong arm as his fingers kept massaging and stroking you through the waves of pleasure.

After the final tremors had subsided, you lay back against his chest, panting and exhausted. He pulled his fingers out and tapped your pussy, cupping it and squeezing the lips with his fingers.

"Do you want to try what we talked about?" He whispered in your ear, his fingers dipping lower, circling your other entrance, teasingly.

You bit down on your lower lip, thinking it over. You looked up at him, eyes wide and trusting. "Okay,” you said softly.

He grinned and kissed your neck, his fingers still rubbing and pressing on your puckered hole, not pressing in, just teasing. He reached into his bedside drawer, pulling out a small bottle of lube, warming it between his hands before pressing his finger against your tight little hole.

"Push out, let me in," Elijah commanded, his voice low and firm, but not lacking the usual kindness he spoke to you with.

You obeyed, feeling him slip inside, the ring of muscle stretching and giving way, allowing him access. He pumped his finger in and out, letting you adjust and relax, his lips and teeth working on your neck and jaw.

"Look in the mirror, see how beautiful you are when you take my finger."

Your head tilted to the side, looking into the mirror and seeing him with his finger halfway inside you. You felt him curl his finger, pushing deeper until his entire digit was inside, his palm flush against you.

"Oh fuck," You gasped, feeling a mixture of discomfort and pleasure as he began pumping his finger in and out, adding a second and scissoring them, stretching you and preparing you for his cock.

"I'm going to take such good care of you," Elijah whispered as his fingers pushed deeper.

You moaned and leaned back, resting your head on his shoulder, feeling his fingers pumping in and out of your asshole. The pressure was intense, his thick fingers stretching the tight muscles, but the pain was fading and was being replaced with a pleasant, full feeling.

He slowly removed his fingers, his hands moving underneath your knees, lifting up your legs and planting your feet on his thighs.

"Are you ready sweetheart?" He asked, kissing along your neck and shoulders.

You nodded and reached back to hold on to him, his arms wrapping around you and holding you tightly. You could feel his thick, heavy cock press against your back. He cupped your ass and gently lifted you, guiding his cock towards your little hole, the thick head pressing against you, the tip slipping past the tight ring of muscle and pushing into you.

He stopped, allowing you to adjust to his size. His cock was so big, it felt like it was splitting you in half. He gently lowered you down, until you were sitting on his thighs, his cock fully inside you.

"So tight, so perfect." Elijah said, his voice rough and strained. "Look at yourself, sitting all pretty on my cock,"

Your eyes flicked to the mirror and you bit down on your lip at the sight. Your legs were spread open, your pussy was exposed and glistening. His cock was buried deep inside you, his balls pressing against your ass.

You could feel the fullness of his cock, the way it stretched and filled you. It was a strange feeling, but a good one.

You were trembling slightly, one of his hands moved to your clit and began to stroke it softly, making you gasp and buck your hips.

"It's okay sweetheart, I've got you." He cooed, his voice soft and calming, his fingers slowly working over the swollen nub.

You could feel yourself loosening up and relaxing, allowing his cock to sink even deeper. He let out a low groan, the sound vibrating through his chest, his hips moving a little and pushing himself in and out of you.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, watching as his cock slid in and out, stretching and filling you. You could see the muscles in his arm flexing and his jaw clenching as he lifted you up and down.

Your hands held on to his thighs, lifting yourself up and down, chasing the feeling of him filling you. You were lost in the feeling of his thick cock inside you, the way it made you feel full and complete.

"That's it, sweetheart, ride my cock." Elijah groaned, his voice thick with desire.

You watched him press two fingers inside your pussy, feeling the stretch of his cock and fingers inside you. He began pumping his fingers in and out, curling them, searching for that spongy spot that made you scream his name.

You felt so full, so stretched. The sensation was almost too much, but you loved it. You could feel the pleasure building inside you, your entire body was trembling. You were close, so close.

"Look at me," Elijah said, his voice low and commanding.

You looked into the mirror, your eyes locking with his. His dark, intense gaze was full of hunger and desire. His hips were moving faster now, his cock thrusting in and out of you, his fingers pushing deeper and harder inside your pussy.

"I can feel your pussy gripping down on my fingers, are you going to come for me, sweetheart?" He asked, his voice raspy and strained.

You nodded, your lips parted and your eyes glazed over with pleasure.

"Come for me. Come all over my fingers," He whispered, his fingers pressing and rubbing that spot inside you that drove you crazy.

Your nails dug into him, your head falling back, a strangled cry leaving your lips. Your legs were shaking, and your thighs tried to close, but he held them open. You felt him buck his hips, pushing himself even deeper, his fingers pumping in and out of your cunt.

The pleasure washed over you, your whole body convulsing and trembling. You felt him press his lips to your ear, his breath hot and heavy against your skin.

Your muscles tightened around him, and he let out a strangled groan. You felt his cock twitch, and a warm flood of his cum filled you. He held you tight, his fingers still pumping in and out of your pussy.

Your whole body relaxed into his arms, feeling limp and exhausted. You were breathing hard, your heart was pounding, and your head was spinning.

"Are you okay, sweetheart?" He asked, his fingers gently caressing the inside of your thigh, his cock still buried deep.

You nodded, unable to speak, completely spent and overwhelmed. He lifted you slowly off his cock, the emptiness was intense, but you felt satisfied.

He carried you to the bathroom, gently setting you down and running a warm bath. He picked you up and lowered you into the water, his arms wrapped around you, and his chest pressed against your back.

He held you like that, the warm water soothing your aching muscles. You closed your eyes, the exhaustion finally taking over. You drifted off to sleep, feeling safe and content in his arms.

#elijah mikaelson #the originals #the vampire diaries #vampire diaries #tvdu #elijah mikaelson smut #elijah mikaelson imagine #elijah mikealson imagine #elijah mikealson #elijah mikaelson x reader #elijah mikealson x reader #tvd #the vampire diaries x you #the vampire diaries x reader #the vampire diares imagine #the vampire diaries imagine #the originals imagine

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vesanal · 6 months ago

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ʚɞ ~Blog Introduction Post~ ʚɞ

Howdy there!! Ok. So. It’s been long enough. Probably should have done this earlier but here it is now!

Anyways, hello! You can call me Ves/Vesanal or some variant of that! I love to write and do art because I like to suffer creatively twice. I am getting back into writing after a while and I will be using this blog to share my works as they come along!! I have some projects I’m working on that I am very excited to share with y’all!!

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→Quick Links:

Side Account!

Join The Taglist!!

Writemas Masterlist!!

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→Here is some info about me:

I love love love making art and writing. Those are two of my greatest passions in life

Pronouns are She/Her

Plotter by heart, I cannot call a story finished if I do not know every minute detail. Quite overwhelming at times but I get by!

I am a stressed out college student who probably shouldn't be scrolling tumblr all day long but here I am.

Computer Science/Math Major, I couldn’t decide on which subject to drain my soul from so I picked both. If I am a bit inactive at times it is due to this

Love to yap and listen to certified yappers about fandoms and OC’s. Infodump about WIPs to me!!! I will gladly listen!!

Proud lesbian, and yes the lgbt girl in CS stereotype is alive and true. If you have a problem with this you are on the wrong website friend

Some of my favorite genres are Fantasy, Sci-Fi, and Drama. Gotta love TV shows and movies to absolutely nerd out over :D

The type of music I like is all over the place but mostly I stick to hard rock, heavy metal, and thrash metal (I would be more than happy to tell y'all about the bands and like and even recommend some)

My MBTI personality type is INTP-T

I am a complete Tumblr NOOB. Please bear with me here while i try to figure out the hellsite <3

My time zone is CST/CT (Central Time)

You can DM me anytime. Along with asks too, but please do not send me any promotions or begs for money. PLEASE. I have gotten a few of those recently and I just want to say that is not what my blog is for. Other than that, asks are completely open! If you have a question, please ask me!!! :) <3

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→Some of the wips of mine:

(There will be separate intro/masterposts for each of these when i get to them

The Bone-Binder’s Covenant

(click link to see masterpost)

Basic Premise: The Bone-Binder has broken his promise with the land of Pytharios, and is now terrorizing the region to get what he wants. Chosen directly by the Queen, Aerlyra Ghorne–a promising yet incredibly unsure woman–is tasked to stop him for once and for all. With the help of her assigned crew and companions who join alongside her during the journey, she hopes to do just that.

Tags: #The Bone-Binder’s Covenant or #TBBC

Genre: Dark Fantasy; Adventure

Status: Active (Somewhat done and planned, still getting a feel for everything, still brainstorming some ideas)

I will be adding more links as I post!!

We Die As One

(Adding masterpost soon)

Basic Premise: Tells the story from a series of ancient journals that are uncovered showing the events following up the total wipeout of all magic. The journal entries focus on a group of scrappy, young heroes who are on a mission against the world, and fail to stop the evils of the world from taking over. All that is left of them is the journals, leaving the ways of the past to be seen as a distant memory and an inspiration to the new generation, who see how the world came to what it has become.

Tags: #We Die As One or #WDAO

Genre: High Fantasy; Action-Adventure

Status: Active (ish, still in idea-phase)

I will be adding more links as I post!!

I still have more WIPS but those are secrets for later ;)

I’ll be posting mainly about my wips, ask games, the occasional art, and writing memes so stay if you are into that!! You can ask me questions any time, don’t be afraid to ask!

Taglist under the cut (interreact with this post here to be +, notify me if you want to be -)

@seastarblue @seafloor507 @stars-forever @viridis-icithus @estrellasxxminis @synthesistoagreatercreation @ink-stains-and-constellations @wyked-rebellion @satohqbanana @amatowriting @riverstixx @theodora47 @selfemployedmess @thebookishkiwi @17panicattacksinatrenchcoat @memento-morianon @the-ellia-west @write-with-will @jwritesalright @sunflowerrosy @myniceisniceblogbloglog @corinneglass

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hollyethecurious · 3 months ago

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CS AU: The Witch in the Woods (3/?)

Summary: “If it’s aid of a magical sort ye seek, then you’ll be wanting to find the witch in the woods.”

A/N: Marking off another bingo square - shhhhh, I don't care if it isn't spooky season any longer. I go where the muse leads.

Shout out to @kmomof4 for giving this a once over and for putting up with my wild ass plotting for potential future installments.

Rated T (for now?) / Also available on ao3 / add to tag list / Curious? Come Ask Me! / Part One / Part Two

Part Three

Begrudgingly, Emma pulled her lips away from the pirate's. Though she would love nothing more than to give in to the temptation that had been simmering between them since he strolled into her cottage, she had to keep her wits about her. She had been burned by charm and guile before and could not risk being wrong about the man currently making promises with grand gestures of his own, regardless of what her instincts were telling her.

“That was…” the pirate murmured, chasing her lips with an eager and desperate need to claim them once more.

“A one time thing,” she told him, vanishing from his grasp and rematerializing on the deck below where she could look over the side to the shimmering water they were currently sailing over in midair.

“Have I done something to vex you?” the pirate - Killian Jones - inquired, not quite able to mask the disappointment in his nonchalant tone.

“No,” she replied, her attention still set on the waters below. “I just cannot afford for either of us to get distracted. There is too much at stake. For both of us.”

A moment of silence passed before the pirate hummed and said, “Too right, love. Forgive me.”

“You hardly need my forgiveness,” she said, turning around to finally face him and startled by the fact he was no longer at the helm but casually leaning against the mast with his arms and ankles crossed. How had he moved without her notice? She must be more distracted than she thought.

“Perhaps not.” He shrugged and uncrossed his arms, his fingers toying with the tip of his hook as he added, “But what I do need--” he hedged, his eyes flicking up and connecting with hers in a way that had her breath stilling in her chest. “--is an explanation.”

“An explanation?” she parroted. “An explanation of what?”

Pushing away from the mast, he sauntered towards her, the movement of his hips and the sway of his great coat mesmerizing her as he approached.

“An explanation of how your boy ended up in Pan’s clutches,” he said, shaking her from her fascination. “If I… we… are to get him back, then I need to know your past dealings with Pan.”

“Why?” she asked defensively.

“Pan is cunning,” he reminded her. “I must know his motives for taking your boy so I can be prepared for any and all scenarios. Any tricks he may have up his sleeve. Plus,” he added, his gaze intense and earnest, “the reason for why Pan took him may well help narrow down where on the island he is keeping him. The more I know, the better chance we have in finding and rescuing the lad.”

Emma scrutinized his features and demeanor, her eyes flickering between his, looking for any sign of duplicity between his words and his intentions. Finding his motives to be pure, she let out a heavy breath and confessed, “It’s a bit of a tale.”

Glancing up at the constellations above them, Killian assured her, “We’ve got some time.” Bringing his eyes back to hers, he suggested, “Perhaps it is a tale best shared over fortifying spirits? I have a wide variety of night cap offerings in my quarters.”

Emma arched her brow and tilted her head at him in an accusatory fashion. Raising his hand and hook in supplication, he professed, “I swear to be on my best behaviour, love. Nothing untoward, I assure you.”

Again, she waited for any hint of deception or ulterior motives to make their way to the surface, but her waiting was in vain. It seemed the pirate meant what he said and he only wished to hear the tale that had led to her acquiring his services. So he might be sufficiently equipped to meet his end of their bargain.

Their bargain, she scoffed silently to herself. Another bargain. Another deal. Another accord made with an unsavory sort.

She just hoped that by the end of their journey, the story they would make along the way would not become yet another cautionary tale.

“It all began with my own folly,” she told him, gesturing towards what she assumed was his cabin and following after him, only continuing after she’d crossed the threshold into his quarters.

“I was young and foolish. Only thirteen and new to my powers with no one to train me.”

Killian poured them both a portion of spirits then invited her to take a seat at the stateroom table. Sinking down into his own seat beside her, he turned his body into hers, and encouraged her to continue.

“Worried what I might do if I did not get my powers under control, I sought help from the one person I knew I should not.”

“Who was that, love?” he asked.

His gaze was tender, his posture open and relaxed. He must have sensed reliving this tale would take its toll on her and was, therefore, doing all he could to make her feel supported and secure. She appreciated it more than she could say, which was why it pained her to see the change in him when she answered.

“The Dark One,” she stated, hollowly. “I made a deal with the Dark One.”

~/~

Fifteen years ago…

The frigid, winter wind sliced through Emma, chilling her to the bone and making her teeth chatter. She tightened the thread-bare shawl around her small frame and mustered the courage that had waxed and waned many times over on her way to the clearing.

She knew it was mad, but what other choice did she have?

Drawing in a deep breath, one that set fire to her lungs and nearly froze her vocal chords, she closed her eyes and cast all caution to the biting winds.

“Dark One, I summon thee!”

The ground beneath her began to shake. Birds that had been roosting in nearby trees squawked and screeched as they took flight, fleeing the area on quick wings as scampering sounds of creatures rustled through the brush made their own escape. From the dais, a black, viscous mire began to seep up from the grates and form into something the approximate size and shape of a man. When the dark ooze receded, a cloaked figure remained.

The figure of the Dark One.

Pulling back the hood of his cloak, the vessel of the Darkness appraised her for a moment before snapping in a sharp, irritated tone, “I haven’t got all day, dearie.”

Repulsed by the unnatural shimmer of his skin and the way his eyes seemed to pierce into her very soul, it took Emma a moment to find her voice.

“I… I’ve come to seek your help. I’ve come to make a deal.”

“Believe it or not,” he quipped with a disparaging and scornful expression, “I had worked that out for myself.” Stepping off the dais, he began to circle her as he questioned, “What makes you think I would be interested in making a deal with the likes of you?” When he stopped in front of her, his serpent-esque eyes searching the fearful jade of her own, something in his demeanor shifted. “Oooooohhhhhh,” he drawled, his interest sharpening in an unsettling way. “I see. Finding it difficult to wield all that new found power, aren’t you, dearie?”

“Y-Yes,” Emma stammered, finding it difficult to maintain eye contact and dropping her gaze to her feet.

“And you have no one to train you? No one to take you under their wing and care for a whittle cygnet such as yourself?”

The beast’s taunting tone ignited a spark of anger within her and before she could do anything to try and stop it - not that it would have mattered, seeing as her lack of control was why she was there in the first place - her magic pulsed and caught one of the trees on the edge of the clearing on fire.

“Oh, ho!” the Dark One cheered, clapping his hands together in a maniacal fashion. “You are a wonder!”

“No!” Emma shouted in parts fear and frustration. “No, I’m not! I’m a danger! I don’t know what I’m doing! I didn’t even know I had magic until--”

“Until you came of age at your last birthday?”

“Yes,” Emma replied, chewing on her lip briefly, before sharing, “I turned thirteen this past fall, and suddenly…” She held up her hands, the glow of her magic always present within her palms, like a powder keg ready to explode at even the slightest spark. “I was turned out of the place I’ve been raised since I was an infant and have nowhere to go. No way to make a way for myself, unless…”

“Unless?” the Dark One prodded, his countenance coiling like a snake ready to strike, his nose twitching as though he could smell the desperation coming off of her.

“Unless I can find a way of harnessing my magic so I can use it to make a living. Please,” she begged. “I’ll give you a portion of my earnings for however long you wish if you’ll help me master my power.”

The Dark One brought his hand up and placed it thoughtfully against his face, giving off the appearance that he was considering her proposal.

“As much as I would love to take on another apprentice,” he began in an insincere tone. “I’m afraid my dance card is full.”

“Wait!” Emma cried when he lifted his hand in preparation of whisking himself away. “Please! There must be something you can do. Some magic you can provide that will help me. Name your price. If it is within my ability to give, then it is yours!”

“Anything?”

“Yes!” Emma agreed. “Anything.”

“Well,” the Dark One dramatized. “There is something I could give you to help bring your magic to heel.” A swirl of dark smoke with shades of deep purple and maroon manifested in the Dark One’s palm. When it dissipated, a small scroll, tied with a black ribbon, was left in its wake. “This,” he said, holding up the scroll and shuffling it through his fingers, “contains an incantation that will immediately calm your powers and give you mastery over them as though you’d spent decades in training, but,” he clipped, tossing the scroll into the air and catching it tightly in his fist. “I warn you. It comes with a steep price.”

Wetting her lips, Emma eyed the end of the ribbon peeking out from the Dark One’s clenched fist and asked, “Whatever it costs, I’ll find a way to pay it.”

The Dark One’s face contorted as a wild, sinister grin spread across his face. “I do love a desperate soul,” he sneered, holding out the scroll for her to take.

“What about the price?” she asked, taking the scroll and holding it tightly within her grip.

“When the time comes,” he said, a disturbing gleam shimmering from his reptilian gaze. “I will come to collect.”

“Why can’t you collect it now?” she asked, wishing to be done with the entire affair and not relishing the idea of ever having to see him again.

“You’re not yet ready to provide me my price,” he told her, his eyes flicking downward then hurriedly back up again. “I dare say it’ll be a few years, but fear not…” He backed away, slithering towards the dais as he gave her one last promise, “I always keep my bargains.”

Smoke engulfed the Dark One, leaving behind only the echo of his impish giggle and the sinking feeling with Emma that she may have just made a terrible mistake.

~/~

“What was the price,” Hook inquired, knowing it had to have been something horrible, something reprehensible if the crocodile had refused to disclose it at the crafting of their deal.

Throwing back the reminder of the drink he’d poured for her, the witch sucked in against the burn it likely left in her throat and replied, “My first born child.”

“What?” Hook exclaimed, shooting up from his seat so he could pace the length of his cabin. He never considered that her son was a mere infant, nor that the Dark One would have enlisted Pan to--

“He’s not a baby anymore,” Emma told him. “He turned ten this past summer.”

Unaware that he had said those things aloud, Hook scratched at the back of his ear and sheepishly apologized.

“I am sorry for my outburst.” Resuming his seat he asked, “If the Dark One did not come for the boy when he was born then--”

“I learned of his scheme and managed to hide myself away before he was born,” she said. “Despite his attempt to manipulate and entrap me into paying the price.”

“I do not understand,” Hook responded, his confusion pinching his brows and underpinning his words. “How did the Dark One manipulate and entrap you?”

Emma reached over and picked up the decanter he had placed upon the table and refilled her glass. After setting it back down, she stared at the way the amber liquid swirled in its container before imparting, “I suspect he kept tabs on me somehow,” she said in a faraway voice. “It’s the only way he could have known of all the proposals and propositions I’d received and rejected. The only way he could have discovered that I had no intentions of ever marrying or having a child, thereby making it necessary to send someone with the intentions of wooing me, bedding me, and impregnating me so he could claim his precious price.”

Seething, Hook inquired between clenched teeth, “Who? Who did he send? Who did that to you, love?”

“His son,” she supplied, her eyes still lingering on the swirling amber.

“Baelfire?” he blurted out, absolutely stunned.

A sentiment she also shared, evident from the way she blanched and flicked her gaze up to his.

“Y-You know him?”

“Aye,” he told her. “That is… I knew him. Once. When he was a boy not much older than yours.” Shaking his head, he poured himself another drink and mused, “I often wondered what had become of him after Pan let him go, but never would I have imagined--”

“Let him go?” Emma interjected. “What do you mean, let him go?”

“From Neverland,” he answered. “Bae landed there some time after his father had abandoned him in a portal. He remained for many years until, one day, Pan instructed me to return him to the Enchanted Forest.”

“When was that?”

Hook shrugged and tried to calculate the time. It was difficult to keep track of such things when time stood still in one realm and moved differently between others.

“Nevermind,” she said, waving off her question. “It does not matter now, I suppose.”

“Aye,” Hook agreed. “Although, given what I knew of what Baelfire thought of his father, I find it difficult to believe he would work with him to betray you in such a way.”

“I know little of their relationship,” she told him, hollowly. The wall he’d seen her erect several times within their brief acquaintance was once more established upon its foundation in an attempt to separate herself from the emotional turmoil threatening its ramparts.

“All I know is…” She swallowed heavily then took a fortifying breath so she could continue on with an unaffected tone and composed countenance. “He took me for a fool. Made me believe his declarations of love were sincere and his desire to spend our lives together was real.”

In spite of her efforts, he could see her struggling, her eyes glistening with angry tears she refused to let fall, her last few words choked off by the tight ball of emotion forming in her throat.

“When did you learn the truth?” he asked, keeping his tone as gentle as he could despite his own feelings of outrage.

Clearing her throat, she turned her face upward and blinked back the treachery blurring her vision before bringing her gaze back to his. “I overheard him one night,” she began in a clipped tone of rancor. “He was talking with someone in the other room, but when I peered around the corner, I did not see anyone. It took me a moment to realize he was communicating through mirror magic.”

“Mirror magic?” Hook replied in surprise. “The Bae I knew abhorred magic.”

It struck Hook that this fact should have been the tip off that there was something fishy about their relationship. The lengths to which the lad had gone to flee his father and avoid Pan, both powerful purveyors of magic, not to mention his wariness of Tink, a former fairy, had made the boy’s feelings on the subject quite clear.

“Yeah, I, uh… learned that later,” she told him with a slight shake to her head as she mused, “I still don’t understand how he was able to deceive me for so long.”

“You mustn’t blame yourself, love,” Hook replied, a pang of guilt stabbing him in the gut. “He was an excellent pupil whilst in my charge and I can only imagine the lessons Pan and his father taught him after he left my tutelage.” Running his tongue over his teeth, he shifted in his seat and confessed, “I taught him all I knew of piracy and… duplicity and skulduggery are part and parcel of a pirate’s life.”

The feel of her hand over his snapped his gaze from the floor to their hands to her eyes, bright green and swirling with understanding, forgiveness, and a measure of amusement.

“You mustn’t blame yourself, Captain,” she parroted back to him. “I’m normally very good at knowing when someone is lying to me… even pirates.” With her other hand, she reached into the front of her bodice and produced a pendant etched with a swan motif. “And after Baelfire’s betrayal, I made sure to never fall victim to whatever tactics he used to skirt that skill.” Holding out the pendant between them, she said, “So, I enchanted this charm to alert me of when people aren’t being honest. To remind myself never to trust blindly again.”

Hook watched the pendant swing from her grip with sad eyes. “I’m sorry, love.”

“Don’t be,” she responded, tucking the pendant back into her bodice and pulling her other hand from his. “It’s kept me and my son safe… or rather, it did for a time.”

“Aye,” Hook sighed, grieved at the loss of her touch. “Tell me more about that. You said you overheard Bae communicating with someone over mirror magic. Who was it?”

“His father,” she told him with a heavy dose of disgust on her tongue. “Although, I did not know the Dark One was his father at the time. I simply heard him telling Rumplestiltskin that the deed was done, and in a few more months, my debt would be paid.”

“Tell me you turned the traitorous bastard into a toad,” Hook sneered, taking Baelfire’s treachery personally for a number of reasons.

Emma snorted and scoffed, rolling her eyes before admitting, “I was tempted, believe me, but… I knew I needed him to think he’d won. I needed time to plan my next move.”

She went on to tell him how she had played dumb and waited for the right moment to make her escape. During that time, she’d discovered the lengths he’d gone to, the depth of his depravity and deceit. He’d slipped her a tonic that had rendered her efforts to avoid pregnancy useless; he then used a rudimentary spell - created by his father, no doubt - on her to hide the truth of her condition from her until it was too late.

“By the time I ran, I was nearly seven months gone. It was quite a shock when I finally removed the glamour and could see things for how they truly were.”

“I cannot even begin to imagine,” Hook attempted to empathize. “How did you manage to stay hidden from them? The Dark One’s power is--”

“Blinded by its own hubris,” she told him. “I simply defied his expectations and relied on the common distrust and scorn of the people to assist me.”

“I’m not sure I follow what you mean, love.”

Reaching into the pocket of her cloak, she pulled out a leather cuff and placed it on the table. “The Dark One expected me to use magic in order to conceal myself. Wards, glamours, maybe some blood magic, so… I chose to do none of those. Instead, I used the scroll the Dark One had given me long ago to fashion this-” she tapped the cuff with her finger “-then slipped it on.”

Picking up the molded leather piece, Hook inspected it closely as he inquired, “What does it do?”

“It makes the wearer incapable of using magic by absorbing the power into itself.”

Astonished, Hook’s eyes snapped to hers. “What? You… You…”

“Gave up my magic?” she replied. “Yes. I did.” Taking the cuff from his hand, she put it back in her pocket and added, “I changed my appearance and hid us in plain sight, without my magic giving me away.”

“What of your boy? Surely the Dark One would have means to suss out his own blood.”

The witch gave him a cunning smile before sharing, “I fashioned a similar cuff for him as well. One that concealed his identity from dark magic and grew with him.”

“Did the cuffs not exude a power of their own that may have alerted the Dark One to--”

“Many people own enchanted objects,” she reminded him. “You, yourself, own an enchanted pirate ship and…” raising her hand, palm outward, she focused on his person, the corner of her mouth lifting in a smirk as she said, “a flask that never empties?”

Hook reached up and scratched behind his ear. “Well, one never knows how long between errands one might be. Would be a shame for the rum to run out.”

“Indeed,” she chortled. The two of them shared a moment of myrth before sobering once more.

There was still more of the tale to be told.

“For nearly a decade we evaded detection, but just before my son, Henry, turned ten years old we were warned that the Dark One and his son had enlisted the help of one more formidable.”

“Pan,” Hook spat out in disgust. Schooling his features, he asked, “Who gave you this information?”

“The Blue Fairy,” Emma answered. “She was the first I called upon for help after I left Baelfire. It was she who instructed me on how to fashion the cuffs.” Taking in a deep breath, she exhaled on a heavy breath, “And it was she who told me the history and connection of the members of the perfidious family I had entangled myself with. The one my son descends from and will forever have to contend with… assuming we are successful in retrieving him.”

“We will be,” Hook vowed emphatically, earning him a sad smile that mirrored the melancholy in her eyes.

Eyes that quickly became piercing as they swirled with a desperate sort of pleading. “Tell me you have a plan.”

“I’m working on it, love,” he promised her. A promise he knew would likely give her little comfort. “I need to know more, though,” he prompted. “How and when was your boy taken? Have you had any contact with him or Pan or Bae or the Dark One?”

“Henry was…” she began, her words strained and choked. “He was taken the eve of his birthday. His entire life, I remained vigilant. On the lookout for any hint of Baelfire or the Dark One. Any spy. Any scout. Any sign that they may have found us or had succeeded in turning one of our neighbors against us. I was focused on people. I never even considered the threat a shadow might pose.”

Hook shuddered at her words. Pan’s shadow. His spectre of an errand boy, an umbra assassin, and silhouette spy. He’d had his own run-ins with the being; ones he would rather not dwell upon. No boy should ever have to face the manifestation of something so unnatural.

“When I went in to check on Henry before turning in that night, all I found was an open window, his leather cuff, and a note.”

“What did it say?”

“The Dark One lies, the Dark One tricks, but Pan always wins.”

An errant tear managed to slip past her lashes and slowly began to trail down her cheek. Catching it with the pad of his thumb, Hook took her face in his hands and vowed, “Not this time, love. I can promise you that. Not this time.”

Part Four - Coming Soon!

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.)

@bluewildcatfanatic @scotchiegirl @jonesfandomfanatic @idristardis @lfh1226-linda

@paradiselady19 @phoenix-untamed @jackieorioncat @tiganasummertree @snowbellewells

@brucethegirl @superchocovian @jennjenn615 @booksteaandtoomuchtv @kmomof4

@the-darkdragonfly @stahlop @zaharadessert @caught-in-the-filter @motherkatereloyshipper

@earanemith @captainodonoghue @jrob64 @djlbg @wyntereyez

@kday426 @gingerchangeling @winterbaby89 @cocohook38

#csff #cs ff #csfic #cs fic #cs au #captain swan #cs bingo #words by hollye

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whimsicallyenchantedrose · 5 months ago

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How the Witch Stole Christmas--A CS Secret Santa Fic

Note: Merry Christmas @captainswan-kellie! I was your Secret Santa this year! I hope you enjoy your gift, and I hope you have a merry Christmas and a happy New Year!

Tagging a few people who may be interested (Let me know if you want to be added or taken off the list):

@jennjenn615 @laschatzi @snowbellewells @iamanneenigma @kmomof4

@linda8084 @searchingwardrobes @hollyethecurious @winterbaby89 @facesiousbutton82

@therooksshiningknight @lfh1226-linda @tiganasummertree @jrob64 @anmylica

@booksteaandtoomuchtv @i-will-sing-no-requiem @bluewildcatfanatic @laianely

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

“Thanks, Killian! Maybe we could go out on your boat again sometime,” Henry said as he bounded into their room at Granny’s.

“Anytime, lad,” Killian said softly, and Emma felt her heart turn over at the affection she heard in Hook’s voice toward her son. If she stopped to think about it too closely, it would scare the daylights out of her, how much she was coming to depend on him and lean on him in the midst of the latest craziness.

But that was a concern for another day. For right now, she just wanted to celebrate another day where they were still standing and the villain of the day hadn’t succeeded.

“How did the queen fare against the witch?” Killian asked, as though reading her thoughts. It was kind of unsettling how effortlessly he was able to do that..

“She survived, but the rest is definitely more than a doorway conversation,” Emma said, suddenly feeling tired as she recalled the showdown in the middle of town square.

She was about to thank him again, when suddenly her phone rang.

“Hey Mary Margaret, what’s up?” she asked, seeing her mother’s picture on the screen when she pulled the device from her back pocket.

“Can you and Hook meet us down in the parlor in say five minutes?” Mary Margaret asked.

“Sure?” she said, the word coming out more of a question than a statement. “What’s up? Is everything okay? Did the witch–”

“Oh nothing like that,” Mary Margaret said. “Don’t worry. Your father and I just had an idea.”

Killian gave her a concerned look as she hung up the phone. “Another crisis, Swan?”

“I don’t think so,” she said slowly. “That was Mary Margtaret and she sounded….excited. She wants us to meet her in the parlor. Just give me a second to tell the kid where I’m off to.”

Five minutes later, they found themselves seated on a loveseat in front of a merrily roaring fire in Granny’s parlor, an equally confused–and annoyed, from the look of it–Regina sitting across from them.

Before any of them had a chance to speculate what was up, Mary Margaret and David breezed in, cheeks reddened from the cold and a few stray snowflakes in their hair.

“Brr! It’s cold out there,” Mary Margaret said with a smile, “and it’s starting to snow–which is just perfect.”

Emma shot Killian a bemused look, and he shrugged, clearly as at a loss as she was.

“Mom,” Emma said, hoping to win some favor by using the familial term. “What’s all this about? Is there a new threat from Zelena? Did something else happen?”

“Oh nothing like that!” Mary Margaret said. “We called you all here because, well, tomorrow’s Christmas Eve.”

“Tomorrow’s….Christmas Eve?” Killian said blankly.

“Oh come on, Hook,” David said, “we had Christmas back in our land. Surely you know what it is!”

“Of course I bloody know what Christmas is,” Killian bit out. “What I fail to grasp is why that warrants a meeting of the heroes.”

“We have to plan a celebration, of course!” Mary Margaret said, nearly bounding on her chair. And there’s no time to waste!”

Regina gave her erstwhile enemy a look of disbelief. “My insane half sister is running around, trying to steal hearts and courage and who the hell knows what else, and you want to plan a party?”

A look of steely determination came into Mary Margaret’s face. “Yes, that’s exactly what I want to do,” she said. “I don’t know what the witch has planned. I don’t know how she plans to go about getting what she wants, but I do know one thing: when this town comes together we don’t fail. I refuse to let her steal the joy of the holiday from me or my family–or my town!”

“And the best way to stop her is to set up a Christmas tree and drink eggnog and give each other presents we don’t want anyway?” Regina continued.

“Couldn’t hurt,” David said.

“Of course it could!” Regina exploded. “Who knows what she’ll get accomplished while we galavant around town like idiots!”

“Swan? What do you think?” Killian asked, turning toward her.

She thought for a moment before formulating her answer. “I say, screw her,” she said finally. “Whatever insane plot she’s hatching, she’s basically acting like a spoiled kid, and what do you do with a spoiled kid? You ignore them. She wants to throw a temper tantrum, we’ll be ready for her.”

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

The next morning, Zelena adjusted her hat, and then poofed herself out of her farmhouse to the edge of town, curious to see the effect her showdown with her pathetic younger sister had on the rest of the town.

She’d defeated her handily, thanks in part to her secret, Dark One, weapon.

Would the town be cowering in fear? Would they be huddled together trying to prepare for whatever new hell Zelena planned for them?

She looked around, and her brows furrowed in confusion. There was no spirit of fear or concern in the air. There was an air of excitement, of festivity. Grumpy and the rest of the dwarf’s were dragging a huge pine tree onto the square and untangling strands of lights. Marco and Archie hung decorations on light posts. Belle sang a Christmas carol as she strung garland on the door of library.

Zelena huddled farther into the large coat she’d donned to hide her identity for her reconnaissance mission. Stepping into Granny’s, she noticed the core group of heroes–along with Granny and Ruby were engaged in a strategy meeting.

But it wasn’t any kind of strategy meeting she would have expected. They seemed to be planning….a party.

“Should there be a gift exchange?” Mary Margaret asked.

“Put together in one day?” Regina asked skeptically.

“Why not?” Mary Margaret said. “What kind of Christmas party doesn’t even have a gift exchange? We could make it a game. A white elephant gift exchange!”

They were planning a party? The morning after she’d so soundly defeated her younger sister? Had they all gone crazy?

Wordlessly, Zelena slipped out of the diner. They thought to ignore her and the threat she posed? She’d see about that!

As she made her way back to her farmhouse, an idea came to her mind. A wonderful, terrible idea

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

“So….the whole town is having a Christmas party?” Henry asked as he, Emma and Killian walked from their rooms toward the diner bright and early on Christmas morning.

“That they are lad,” Killian said, smiling delightedly. “Replete with gifts, games and holiday treats.”

“But…but weren’t you all just working to find the person who killed my dad, and how you’re having a party?” he asked.

Emma stopped and put a comforting hand on her son’s shoulder. “Kid, don’t worry, we’ll catch her. We just can’t stop living while we do. We can’t let her steal our joy.”

“Your father would want you to enjoy the season,” Killian added.

“But….are we safe?” Henry persisted.

A steely look came into Emma’s eyes. “The only person who isn’t safe is the w–I mean the killer, if she tries anything today.”

He looked closely at her for a moment. The kid had an unsettling way of looking for lies–much like she’d always had. Finally, he nodded. “Cool. So what does this town do for Christmas?”

“I guess we’re about to find out,” Emma said. “And kid…this town is….different, so don’t be surprised if some of their…traditions…are kind of weird.”

“Hey, I’m a kid,” Henry said. “As long as there are presents and sweets I’m happy.”

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

The party went off without a hitch–until late in the afternoon. Frankly Killian was shocked how long it took for the witch to strike.

They’d just finished a delectable Christmas dinner and were setting up for the white elephant gift exchange–which would no doubt prove to be interesting, given the fact at least four of the dwarves were well into their cups by that point, and Happy was fully inebriated–when a tremendous clatter was heard outside the diner.

As one, the residents of Storybrooke fled to the door and windows to see what was happening.

Zelena, in full on green skin, black dress and hat walked purposely toward them, while a band of flying monkeys screamed to each other, tearing decorations from windows and doors, destroying the carefully decorated tree.

A loud murmur of concern and fear went through the assembly as the witch approached. Henry, for his part, gave his mother a bemused look.

“Uh…” she said, thinking hard, “this is….this is…”

“The traditional Christmas interactive play,” Regina said, coming to her aid.

“She looks like the Wicked Witch of the West,” Henry said, skeptically. “What does she have to do with Christmas?”

“It’s the green skin,” Emma said. “She’s like… the grinch.”

“So….you do an interactive Grinch play starring the Wicked Witch of the West?”

Fortunately, Swan was saved answering that question by the arrival of the witch herself.

“Well, isn’t this a festive assembly?” Zelena said, walking in confidently. “Didn’t get enough the other night, sis?”

Without further ado, Zelena raised her hands, called on all of her magic, and…..nothing happened.

“What the hell?” she asked, looking down at her hands.

“Protection spell,” Regina said, gesturing around the diner. “Covers the whole place. Sorry to ruin your greatest Christmas wish, but your annoying green hands are tied here.”

“You can’t keep a spell that powerful up forever!” Zelena thundered. “Sooner or later I will break through.”

“Maybe so,” Regina continued. “But it won’t happen until after Christmas.”

“Look, greenie,” Emma said, “It’s Christmas. We’re all here to enjoy ourselves. You’ve got two options: leave us the hell alone, or get over yourself, grab an eggnog and act like an adult, rather than a spoiled child.”

Zelena looked murderous for another moment, and then her facade crumbled. “You’d really let me join your party? Knowing who I am? What I’m capable of? That I’m planning to destroy you all?”

Mary Margaret approached her with a cup of eggnog. “It’s Christmas, Zelena. Everyone deserves a little grace and a second chance at Christmas. I bet there’s even a gift for you under that tree.”

“Come join us,” David said. “After all, you can always go back to trying to destroy us tomorrow.”

Perhaps the magic of the season touched her. Perhaps she, like all the rest of them was simply tired. Perhaps her heart grew three sizes that day. Whatever the reason, after a long silence, in which it felt like no one so much as moved, the witch nodded and the party went on.

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

Much later that evening a bemused Zelena returned to her farmhouse. What manner of witchcraft had her spoiled sister used upon her? She’d gone to the town to destroy their Christmas, and instead they’d invited her in, allowed her to make merry with them, treated her as one of their own.

Was it possible she’d been wrong about them–wrong about everything?

No, she finally decided, sitting before the fire. No, she wouldn’t let a little reverse psychology derail her like that! Tomorrow it was back to business as usual. Tomorrow she went back to getting the ingredients she needed. Tomorrow she took the next step toward getting what she truly deserved–a life in which her sister had never been born. A life in which she was the favored and only daughter.

And, after all, tonight hadn’t been a complete waste. She’d gained some useful intel. It seemed the Savior and the pirate were quite close. The way they looked at each other. The way they sought each other out. Quite the budding romance there.

Perhaps she could use it to her advantage. Perhaps it was just what she needed to neutralize the savior. Just a little bit of manipulation, a little bit of deception, and she had no doubt she’d succeed in cursing the pirate’s lips and letting him do the rest for her.

Until then, she had a bigger problem. The whole noxious town had come together to work as one. She couldn’t have that. Couldn’t have that at all. She had to do something to wipe the warm fuzzies from everyone’s consciousness.

Looks like it was time for one last memory spell. Taking a vial from her bag, she uncorked it and let the fog waft from it toward the town.

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

“So kid, what did you think of Storybrooke Christmas?” Emma asked as the three of them headed back toward their rooms.

“Mom, this town is really, really weird,” he said.

“You don’t know the half of it,” she muttered under her breath.

“But,” he concluded, “it was a really good Christmas. Thanks for bringing me.”

She gave him a quick hug. “Kid, there’s no one in the world I’d rather spend Christmas with than you, no matter where or how we do it.”

“Me too, mom,” he said, returning her hug, before yawning loudly.

“Okay, time for bed, kid,” she said, opening their door, and gesturing inside. “I’ll be in in a moment. Just want to talk to Killian.”

She waited until the door was closed after him, and then turned back to Killian. “Well, it looks like a Christmas disaster was averted, and the kid’s no worse for the wear.”

“Your lad is stronger than you think, love,” Killian said softly, taking a step closer to her and hooking a stray strand of her hair behind her ear. “And you did a fantastic job giving him a joyful and memorable Christmas.”

“You really think so?” she asked tentatively. “Killian, I never really had Christmas growing up the way I did, and so I always want to make sure Henry doesn’t feel the loss the way I did.”

“And he never will,” he said with a gentle smile, “because he has a mother who loves him. It makes up for any….less than perfect Christmas moment.”

Her heart turned over at the look he gave her. The look he was always giving her. He believed in her, really, truly believed in her. He was on her side and in her corner, no matter what. It didn’t matter what she did, what she said, how much she tried to push him away. He’d once told her he was in it for the long haul, and she was finally, finally beginning to suspect that he meant it.

She looked up at him for long moments as her heart pounded. If she didn’t step away soon, she was going to do something stupid. Like kiss him.

She should turn around, walk back into her room. Bid him good night.

But it was Christmas. The day had been magical. She was feeling good–and he was a big part of it.

Screw it. Tomorrow she’d go back to guarding her heart. For tonight. For one night only, she’d show him what his support meant to her.

Reaching up, she grabbed his lapels and pulled him down for a long, slow kiss. If he was surprised at her actions, he didn’t show it, merely pulling her close, and kissing her back just as fervently as he let his hand tangle in her hair.

Just how long the kiss would have gone on–and how passionate it would have become–Emma didn’t know, because just as she turned her head to deepen the kiss even further, she caught a faint wisp of–something (smoke? Fog? A spell?) out of the corner of her eye.

She pulled away, watching as the fog billowed toward them, and then overtook them, so quickly, she didn’t even have time to cry out.

But no sooner had the cloud overtaken them than it dissipated, and suddenly Emma couldn’t remember what they’d been doing or why.

She shook her head. The showdown between Regina and Zelena must have rattled her more than she’d thought.

“How did the queen fare against the witch?” Killian asked,

“She survived, but the rest is definitely more than a doorway conversation,” Emma replied. “Thanks again for taking him out on your ship.”

#cs secret santa 2024 #my fanfiction #cs deleted scene #OUAT season 3b

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nejjirez · 2 years ago

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Since everyone addressin their problems with rashad ..

a lil while ago i had an issue with another writer , it wasn't a big problem but someone found a way to fuel the damn fire..

um its obvious who the fuel was .. at first i thought he was tryna help me because at the moment he was one of the only people who were tryna actually help me in the situation.

this was the last message i had from him before ppl got on his ass about the stuff he was causing , he also pretended to be me in the other writer's anons.. which didn't click to me that it was him at first , until i just saw the other writer's post about the situation and now it all make sense to me.. i see him causin problems to evb now and im js thinkin like um.. damn.. cs it is no fuckin reason damn near the whole miles writers block should be on yo ass rn..ts is insane 😭

and honestly the whole thing abt him "usin his mental issues as an excuse" made me squint at my screen bc like .. ohhh okayy...

back to the situation with him pretending to be me , the other writer added it all up and it makes sense to me now , only her , me , and rashad wouldve been the only ones to know abt her not accepting my apology , and the anon just happened to know abt it .. and ik the writer wasnt that dumb to js go in her own anons so it left rashad as the only person.. i don't even ask ppl stuff as an anon , i make it very known who i am

so i'm honestly pissed at that nigga rn bc i was genuinely stressed , and u js tried to make the situation fucking worse? nigga wtf mental issues gotta do with fueling a disagreement? like dpmo bruh .. bc ur mad weird for that , i trusted you , defended you , and hella other shit and ur the anon the whole time..

u got urself known by all these writers js to end up like this.. u got ya self into this.. don't even act like ppl targeting u or wtv bc u made urself the target..

and at first i didnt believe @averagegirlie when they said it was him pretending to be me , but now ts make sense , we had an argument or wtv but i appreciate you for that 💗

this whole situation just pissed me off .. bc u caused a big ass eruption in the damn miles writers group and then try to blame other shit on it .. tbh u js attention seeking , if u needa talk abt ur mental issues , problems or whatever the fuck u got goin on id recommend doing it to a person in private or going in your notes??? something that WONT cause shit?..

yall have a good day tho.. tagging ppl who have had some problems too with him (lmk if i missed anybody..)

@hiimayee @ashsostrange @tainted-liquor @breeandhermunches (MB IF U DONT WANT ME TAGGIN U BREE JS LMK)

#manitalkss #ts is dumb #cmon now #js pissed me off #anyways ..#sigh

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kmomof4 · 1 year ago

Text

A Christmas Surprise- NEW CHAPTER!!

Summary: Elsa Jones enlists her friend Emma Swan to come up with a scheme to surprise her niece Alice Jones when her Papa, Killian, returns from deployment just in time for Christmas.

If you're thinking this fic sounds familiar, you're right! I originally wrote this fic two years ago, but last year an idea came to me of how I could continue the story. It was too close to Christmas last year to get it done, so I wrote this addition last spring and it's been waiting for December to get here so I could post it!! I still think this fic is the cutest thing I've ever written and I hope you enjoy this continuation. The addition turned out to be much too long, so I divided it up into three chs. The next ch will post on Tuesday with the final ch posting next Friday.

On ao3 from the beginning/ current ch

Words: 5225 of 18,550

Rating: G, total Christmas fluff ahead!!!

All the love and thanks to @jrob64 and @snowbellewells for being the best betas out there. I so hope you enjoy and let me know what you think!

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

@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 @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.

Killian Jones sat in the darkness of the giant present in which he was hiding, waiting for his daughter’s Christmas program to begin. He couldn’t wait to see his starfish when he surprised her after she sang her solo this evening. He was proud to serve his country, but the long deployments made things especially difficult. Having Liam and Elsa so close by and willing to care for Alice when he was gone was a blessing he didn’t take for granted in the least, but he was so thankful that he was home for good now and was eligible to retire in just a few more months.

Which made him think about what would come next. What the future might hold and how the lovely Emma Swan might fit into it. He’d been thoroughly gobsmacked when he laid eyes on the golden haired beauty who was Alice’s teacher when he arrived at the school earlier. And then the revelation that she was single sent his heart rate ratcheting up like he hadn’t experienced since he’d met his late wife. It had been six years since he’d lost his beloved Milah, and the thought of re-entering the dating scene hadn’t crossed his mind once in all that time. He was still relatively young and handsome, but with his very young daughter and Navy career, he didn’t have the time or inclination to put himself back out there.

But Emma Swan might just change his mind on that front.

He knew his countenance sported a goofy, thoroughly besotted smile when he heard movement on the outside of the box in which he sat. Bright light from the auditorium flooded the dark space as the small door in the side of it opened, helping him immensely in the schooling of his features before being confronted with the object of his thoughts as she handed him his dinner.

“Do you have enough light to see to eat in here?” Emma asked, looking around.

Killian grimaced. He hadn’t really thought of that. “Perhaps not.”

“I can stay for a bit while you eat, turn the flashlight on on my phone. So you can see to eat,” she stammered. The blush on her cheeks was adorable, and Killian’s heart rate picked up yet again.

“That would be great. Thank you, Emma.”

She smiled as she moved into the space with him. It was a bit cramped with them both sitting on the floor, but he didn’t mind it at all. He tucked into his Christmas meal of roast turkey and dressing, mashed potatoes, green beans and cranberry salad as Emma told him about some of the antics Henry, Alice, and her cousins had gotten up to this semester.

She told him about Liam Jr and Colin hiding Alice’s pencil box on the first day of school. Meant as an initiation of sorts, it had made Elsa’s morning that much more hectic and stressful trying to find it and make it to school on time. Emma related how she’d had trouble containing her giggles when the twins confessed what they’d done, handed over the pencil box, and got exactly what was coming to them from their mother. Later on the same day, in retaliation, Alice and Henry had hidden away the twins’ lunch boxes. Killian had to stifle his laughter at the story.

Then Emma told him about the time just a few weeks ago when Alice was delayed coming back from the restroom. When Emma went to look for her, she found the child peeking into the auditorium where her cousins were engaged in a basketball game with another school in the area. Colin had just made a shot, and Alice was cheering loudly for her cousin from the hallway when Emma found her. Killian’s heart swelled.

By this time, he’d finished his meal and it was time for Emma to depart.

“Alice’s solo is I’ll Be Home for Christmas,” Emma explained. “Do you sing at all? Why don’t you join her for the last line of the song? She’ll just be singing the stanza we all know and love twice, with a bridge in between, so you’ll know exactly when to come in.” Emma’s face was lit up in the light from her phone, and Killian grinned, even as his cheeks heated.

He scratched behind his ear in embarrassment as he spoke. “I’ve been told,” he shrugged, “I have a reasonably nice sounding voice. I think that’s a great idea. So the second time she sings the verse, I’ll join her for the last line and come out of the box?”

Emma nodded. “Yes.” A little giggle burst from her lips as she rose, preparing to leave the cramped quarters, and Killian was utterly charmed. “I can’t wait to see the look on Alice’s face. I’ve been looking forward to this all week.”

“I have too,” Killian agreed. “When Elsa told me what you had planned, I was excited too. And a bit overwhelmed,” he admitted. “That anyone besides Elsa would care so much about Alice that they would arrange something like this…” He trailed away for a moment. “Thank you, Emma.”

Emma had to look away from his sincere expression, a blush heating her cheeks. “You’re quite welcome, Killian. She’s an absolute dear and one of my favorite students. I’ll see you at the end of the program.” And with that, she slipped out of the box, leaving Killian to his thoughts.

~*~*~

Sitting there in the dark listening to the program going on onstage was torture. He could hear everything, and he had no doubt that if he joined in the laughter with the audience and then the sing-along towards the end of the program, the children on the stage would be able to hear him, thus spoiling the surprise. But the time finally came for Alice to sing her solo. A smile with just a touch of sadness and nostalgia broke over his face. Milah hadn’t been able to carry a tune in a bucket, but she loved to listen to him sing, especially to their baby girl at bedtime. He could hear the piano music, and then his Starfish began to sing with her strong and sweet voice.

I’ll be home for Christmas.

You can count on me.

Please have snow and mistletoe

And presents by the tree.

Christmas Eve will find me

Where the love light gleams.

I’ll be home for Christmas

If only in my dreams.

Tears were coursing down his face as he listened, and he didn’t know if he was going to be able to wait for the last line of the song. He heard Alice begin the next stanza, but suddenly, she stopped singing and a hiccupping sob escaped her. Killian quickly dried his own tears and picked up where his Starfish had left off as he opened the box and stepped out in front of it.

Christmas Eve will find me

Where the love light gleams

Killian’s heart melted with love and pride when his eyes landed on Alice. She was looking at Emma who was knelt down next to her and was pointing towards him, tears shining in her eyes.

Alice turned toward him and the confusion on her face melted into pure unadulterated joy when she spotted him.

“Papa!” she shouted.

She ran across the stage and leapt into his waiting arms. His little girl had grown a lot in the last nine months, and he was nearly toppled by her enthusiastic greeting. Spinning around with his daughter in his arms, he planted loud, smacking kisses all over her face. He knew she missed him as much as he did her because she didn’t try to wiggle out of his embrace when he did that.

After he set her down, he looked around the quickly emptying auditorium, finding the rest of his family waiting to welcome him home. He hugged his twin nephews, Liam Jr. and Colin, tightly, exclaiming how they looked more like their father than ever. Then Alice was back in front of him, holding the hand of an older boy behind her.

“Papa, this is Henry Swan,” she introduced. “He’s my best friend.” She turned to her friend with a wide smile on her lips. Killian held out his hand for the young man to shake.

“It’s so nice to meet you, Henry,” Killian said, sincerely. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you befriending my Alice when I deployed last spring.” He looked down at his daughter as she hugged him tightly around the waist, draping his arm across her shoulders. “She can be shy, so it means a lot for someone to reach out to her when she only knew her cousins here at the school.”

The boy blushed as he shook Killian’s hand. “It was my pleasure, sir,” Henry said, a bit shyly himself.

Killian felt his own cheeks heat as he moved toward Emma, scratching behind his ear in nervousness.

“Thank you so much for this, Emma,” he said sincerely. “I truly can’t tell you what it means to me.”

Emma smiled, the action lighting up her green eyes, and Killian caught his breath. “I was happy to do it, Killian.”

He scratched behind his ear again, not meeting her eyes, searching for the words to ask this beautiful woman out on a date. “Could I… uh, would you mind if…” He remembered that Liam was fond of saying a man unwilling to fight for what he wants, deserves what he gets, and Killian had a feeling this lovely lady in front of him was definitely worth fighting for. He finally looked up at her and just spit it out. “Would you like to get a cup of coffee sometime? It’s the start of Christmas break, is it not?” he asked as she looked back at him after looking down at Henry, who stood beside her grinning widely.

“It is,” she affirmed. “And I’d love to have coffee with you, Killian.”

Killian couldn’t keep the grin off of his face if he tried. Being back home with his daughter and family around him, and now going on a date with one of the most beautiful women he’d ever laid eyes on, he had a feeling his life was on the precipice of something great. And he couldn’t wait to see what the future held.

~*~*~

It was Christmas Eve, and Killian didn’t think he could possibly be any happier. Having this time with his family after being away for nine months was a respite he desperately needed. And the addition of the time spent with Emma since they’d met a little over a week ago was only the icing on the cake.

The day after the Christmas program, he and Emma met for coffee, which stretched to lunch, and then all the way to the end of the day. Killian could feel his cheeks heat as he remembered the wide happy smiles on Elsa and Liam’s faces as they passed in front of the coffee shop where he and Emma had met, herding the four children toward Granny’s a couple of doors down for lunch. Killian had been completely oblivious to the time, and when Elsa caught his eye as they passed, he’d pulled out his phone, stunned to find that over two hours had passed in Emma’s delightful company. They quickly settled their tab and joined the rest of them at Granny’s where he got an up front and personal look at just how well Emma and Henry fit into his family. It was enough to really get him thinking about seriously pursuing Emma.

After lunch, he’d been loath to part from her, so had spontaneously invited her and Henry to accompany them as they sought out the perfect Christmas tree. Elsa and Liam hadn’t yet decorated when they received word that he’d be arriving home and decided to put it off until after he got there. It took the rest of the afternoon and evening to find, put up, and decorate the tree.

Since that first all day “date”, Emma and Henry had joined the Jones family for all of the requisite holiday traditions- decorating the rest of the Jones’ domicile, holiday baking, and ice-skating on the frozen pond in the park.

The kids had arranged an ice skating outing for all of them the previous Tuesday. Killian Jones might have served his country in the United States Navy for almost twenty years, but there was a big difference between being on a ship in the middle of the ocean and trying to navigate frozen water on nothing more than a single blade in the middle of his feet. Why they didn’t have double-bladed skates for adults to rent, he’d never know.

But he really couldn’t complain much since Emma was usually the one helping him to his feet when he fell. Alice and Henry had been concerned at first, but the more he fell, the funnier they thought it was. By the time he was ready to hang up the skates and just watch the rest of them, Alice and Henry’s red faces were as much from their laughter at him as from the cold. But again, he couldn’t complain, because seeing the happiness and laughter on his daughter’s face was well worth the humiliation of multiple wipeouts on the ice in front of the woman he really liked and wanted to impress. Thankfully, Emma soon joined him on the bench, where they sipped hot chocolate and laughed as they watched the children cavort on the rink.

Now, arriving back home after the Christmas Eve service at church, Killian couldn’t help the love and happiness blooming in his chest as he watched his family and the woman he was quickly falling for and her son gather around the tree for their gift exchange.

As he stood in the doorway to the kitchen watching them, Emma stood up and approached him. Her smile was bright and happy, and Killian returned it as she got closer.

“I’m just going to refill my glass,” she said, holding it up to show him. He moved quickly to the side to let her pass. A minute or so later, she stopped next to him on the way back out to the living room. “Are you coming?”

“Yes,” he replied. “I was just watching everyone for a minute.” He paused for a moment, and she was silent as he gathered his thoughts. “I’m so happy to be home,” he said in a whisper. He turned toward Emma, not sure if he spoke loud enough for her to hear him. Her eyes and smile were soft, and he knew she had.

“I know you are,” she said. “And I know how happy Alice and the rest of your family are to have you home as well. They missed you.”

“I missed them,” he said, looking back out at the room where everyone else was gathered. “It’s very hard being away from them for so many months at a time.”

“I couldn’t imagine,” she commiserated.

Liam looked up at them then and a spark of mischief appeared in his eye. Killian immediately was on the alert. That look always meant Liam was up to something.

“Oh, would you look at that,” he called jovially, pointing at them, then up to the top of the doorway where they stood.

Killian looked up and immediately felt his cheeks flame. He glanced at Emma, her countenance still directed to the greenery hanging above them, her jaw hanging open slightly. When she looked at him, bashful but pleased surprise was all over her face. He couldn’t believe he’d forgotten Liam and Elsa’s habit of hanging mistletoe in the doorway to the kitchen.

It was a tradition that had begun when they were dating. Liam had Elsa over for dinner in his apartment, and when he started bringing the dishes he’d prepared for their meal from the kitchen to the table, Elsa jumped up to help him. Each time they passed each other in the doorway, they’d kiss, so when Christmas rolled around, they decided it was the perfect place to hang the mistletoe. And it had hung there every year since.

Elsa couldn’t disguise her glee when she looked over at them. “Go on, Killian,” she urged. “You can’t break tradition.” Everyone in the room was now staring at them, with the kids exchanging furtive glances before joining together in only a moderately loud chant kiss kiss kiss. Killian glanced at Alice and Henry, taking in their smiling faces before turning back to Emma.

He leaned in close, never taking his eyes off hers. They sparkled with undisguised anticipation, but he had to make sure she was really agreeable before doing anything else, no matter what the members of the peanut gallery wanted.

“Are you alright with this, Emma?”

Her smile widened even more. “Yes, Killian,” she whispered.

“We’ll save a real kiss for when we don’t have an audience watching,” he whispered huskily, before brushing his lips against the corner of her mouth. He pulled back and was thrilled to see a deep blush on her cheeks and wide smile on her lips. She looked down, embarrassed, before making her way back to the living room where everyone had broken into whoops and cheers of celebration. Killian couldn’t help the surge of satisfaction he felt that she appeared to welcome his advances. He followed her into the living room and sat on the sofa, wrapping his arm around Alice as Liam Jr. got ready to play Santa and hand out the gifts.

Once they were handed out, it didn’t appear to have made any sort of dent in the pile under the tree. The twins and Alice had each been allowed to open two gifts- one a new set of pajamas they got every year, and then a second of their choosing from under the tree. Gifts between the adults would be exchanged in the morning, but Liam had gotten a joint gift for Elsa and Emma who also had gifts for each other, and Alice had a gift for Emma and Henry, Henry had a gift for Alice, and Emma had a gift for Killian.

They watched Henry and Alice open their presents to each other first. Henry was thrilled when he opened a new journal for him to write in, which appeared to have been hand made by his friend and was decorated with writing quotes and stickers. Henry was blushing furiously as Alice opened her gift, a hardbound copy of a story he’d written just for her. Alice and Killian both were completely stunned at the gift. Killian couldn’t imagine the kind of time and effort it would have required to make a gift like this. Alice threw her arms around Henry’s neck and gave him a loud smacking kiss on the cheek.

“Thank you, Henry,” she gushed. “I’ll treasure it always.”

Then it was Emma’s turn, and she opened a travel mug with World’s Best Teacher on the side from Alice, and she was the one to open the gift for herself and Elsa from Liam- a gift certificate for the two of them for a spa day that included facials, massages, getting their nails done, as well as a gourmet lunch. Elsa squealed, and planted a very enthusiastic kiss on her husband’s lips in thanks. Emma laughed at the display.

“I won’t be doing that,” she quipped at Liam, a wide grin on her face. “But, thank you.”

Liam laughed. “I wouldn’t expect you to,” he shot right back at her, his arm around Elsa’s shoulders. “But, you’re welcome.”

Emma then opened her gift from Elsa to find warm fleece pajamas. Elsa knew how hard Emma found it to stay warm in the Maine winters, so the yellow and forest green plaid pjs were very welcome and appreciated. Emma bought Elsa a gift card to her favorite coffee shop that would likely last her at least a month.

Finally, Emma brought the gift she’d bought for Killian toward him. Killian was surprised, and he was sure she could see it on his face.

“You shouldn’t have, Emma,” he protested. “I don’t have anything for you.”

Emma shrugged, but she had a smile on her face. “Don’t worry about that. It really isn’t much. I know we haven’t known each other long, but I feel like I do know you after hearing Elsa and Alice talk about you the whole time you’ve been gone. So when I saw this while I was grocery shopping last week, I thought you probably missed it while you were gone.” She handed him a relatively tall and round gift, wrapped with the same paper that had wrapped the box he’d hidden in for the program. He opened it carefully and his jaw dropped in surprise before his eyes met hers.

“How did you know?” he asked, completely flabbergasted. In his hands was a very large tin of one of his very favorite treats, Pirouline hazelnut creme filled wafers.

“Elsa told me,” she replied. “She found some at the grocery store and bought them for Alice not long after you deployed so she could have one of her Papa’s favorite treats every day, since you couldn’t while you were gone.”

Killian felt the tears gathering in his eyes as he thought of his little girl enjoying the cookies on his behalf so she hopefully wouldn’t miss him quite so much. Emma grinned as he hugged Alice tightly to him and placed a kiss on the top of her head, so grateful to be back home with the ones he loved again.

“Thank you, Emma,” he choked out. “This means a lot.”

“You’re welcome.” She turned back toward Henry, catching him in the middle of a huge yawn. “Come on, kid,” she cajoled. “It’s time to head home and to bed, or Santa won’t come.”

“Uh huh,” Henry replied, a tired yet sarcastic smirk on his face as he rose to his feet. Emma ruffled his hair and smirked back at him in return.

“Or more likely, if you don’t go to bed soon, you won’t wake up early enough in the morning for us to make it to Grandma and Grandpa’s house for Grandpa’s Christmas pancakes,” she added. That got Henry moving quickly toward the door. Emma turned and faced the room. “Merry Christmas, everyone. We’ll see you…” Emma trailed away with a quiet chuckle. “Sometime next week.” Elsa rose to see Emma and Henry out, and Killian squeezed Alice and whispered in her ear.

“I’m just going to say goodnight to Emma, too,” he said. “Is that alright?”

Alice beamed at him. “Yes, Papa. I love Miss Swan. And I know you’ll love her, too.”

Killian was taken aback. Could she possibly mean…? Surely not, she was much too young for that. Or at least, he hoped she was…

Alice wasn’t finished. “You should go out on a real date. Without all of us.”

Killian frowned. “How do you know about dating?” he asked. “Aren’t you a little young for that?”

Alice rolled her eyes at him. She looked just like her mother when she did, and Killian felt a pang go through his heart. “I watch TV, Papa,” she informed him like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Killian rolled his eyes in response.

“So you’d be ok with me dating Miss Swan?” he asked, just to make sure.

Alice smiled and bopped him on the nose. “Yes, Papa.” Killian nodded and kissed Alice on the tip of her nose.

“I love you, Starfish.”

“I love you, too, Papa.”

Killian squeezed her one more time and rose from the sofa, arriving at the front door just as Emma and Henry were walking through it.

“Emma,” he called softly. She turned toward him and the smile that covered her face took his breath away. Elsa gave him a pleased and bashful smile as she moved back toward the living room and the rest of the family. “I just wanted to tell you goodnight, and thank you again for my Christmas present.”

Emma blushed at his words and cut her eyes away from him for a moment before meeting his gaze again. “I’m glad you like it.”

“Uh, I was wondering…” He trailed away and scratched at the spot behind his ear. “Do you have plans for New Years?”

Emma’s smile widened even more. “I don’t,” she replied.

“Would, ah, would you like to go out with me?” he stammered. He didn’t know what was wrong with him. He’d never been this nervous asking a woman out before, not even in the early days of dating Milah. And he’d already spent time with her and was quite sure she was interested in him as well. Maybe it was the fact that his entire family was only a few feet away and could easily hear them if they were so inclined. He hoped they weren’t, but given how they acted earlier when they were caught under the mistletoe, he wasn’t terribly optimistic.

“I’d love to,” she said, her smile even wider, if that was possible, and her eyes sparkling. “I’ll need to find a sitter for Henry…”

“Oh, don’t worry about Henry,” Elsa called from the living room. “He can spend the night here with us. You two go out and have fun.”

Emma’s eyes widened and then cut away from his as he bowed his head and chuckled at Elsa’s offer.

“Thank you, Elsa,” Killian called, only slight exasperation at her obvious eavesdropping coloring his tone.

“You’re welcome,” she called back. He could hear the satisfaction in her voice and could imagine her smug face, even if he couldn’t see it.

“I’ll pick you up at 7?” he asked.

“That’ll be great, Killian,” she said, her smile softening as she looked back out the door toward where Henry was waiting in her car. “I’ll see you then.” She looked back at him, raised up on her toes, and brushed her lips against the corner of his lips, just as he’d done earlier. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

~*~*~

Some hours later, Killian and Liam sat in front of the dying fire, sipping from tumblers of rum. The rest of the family was sound asleep in their beds, but the brothers hadn’t had much time to be alone, so Liam had stayed up with Killian to help him put together the doll house he’d bought for Alice. And now that it was finished, they were enjoying a quiet drink together.

“How long before you report back for duty?” Liam asked.

“I report back February first,” Killian replied.

“And retirement date?”

“Officially it’s May 31,” he informed him, “but with my terminal leave saved up, the ceremony is April 11th.”

Liam nodded. “Have you given any thought to what you’ll do after you retire?”

Killian took a deep breath. “As far as working, no.” He paused for a moment. “But I have thought about dating Emma.” His voice wasn’t much more than a whisper, but he hoped his brother heard his words and he wouldn’t have to repeat them.

“Good.” Killian looked at his brother to see a satisfied smile on his face. “I’m glad to hear it. With your retirement imminent, you really don’t have a valid reason anymore to not date.” Liam’s eyebrow rose and Killian couldn’t help but bristle a bit at his brother’s words. “Don’t get your back up, Killian,” Liam continued, moving his hands in a placating gesture. “I know you loved Milah very much, and being a father to a young daughter is more than enough reason to be cautious in that area,” he acknowledged, and Killian could feel his ire receding at his brother’s words. “But I know Emma. And I know you. And I think you could be very happy together.”

Killian smiled at that last statement. “I think you’re right,” he agreed.

“And that brings us to housing arrangements.” The smile on Liam’s face made Killian smile too.

“I can’t impose on your hospitality forever, brother,” Killian said.

“There’s a house in the next neighborhood over,” Liam informed him. “It’s lovely. Two story, storage in the back, a view of the sea. I don’t know square footage or how many bedrooms it has, but it looks like plenty of room for a family.” Liam’s face was entirely too innocent, and Killian chuckled and rolled his eyes.

“You don’t need to do that, you know,” he said. “You couldn’t be more obvious. You want me to move here.”

Liam smiled. “You have to admit, the idea has merit. Your family is here, Emma is here, Alice could grow up with her cousins and Henry…”

“But what kind of job opportunities are there here?” Killian asked. “I’ve got some savings, but I can’t live off my retirement. I have a much better chance of finding good work in Boston.”

Liam scratched behind his ear with the same nervous tell Killian had. “This is very hush hush and isn’t public knowledge yet, but the firm is gearing up to open a whole new division for commercial property. With the surge of vacationers we’ve seen the last couple of years, the demand for services has really grown, and we have businesses coming out of the woodwork that need buildings to move into. Storybrooke doesn’t have the infrastructure to support them at the moment. I was the top agent in residential sales for the last two quarters and I’m on track to do it again this quarter as well. I’m sure I could put in a word for you and they’d agree to hold a position for you until April. They’ll be announcing the expansion and accepting résumés after the new year.”

Killian’s eyebrows rose nearly to his hairline. “Really? Wow…” This information all but sealed the deal for him. Of course he’d have to see numbers- salary, benefits, the price tag on the house Liam mentioned, but he couldn’t deny how well it all seemed to fit together and intersect perfectly with his own needs and desires.

“Since this is still on the down low, and the office is closed this week, I can give Nemo a call Wednesday or Thursday and tell him you’re interested.” Liam paused for a moment, his gaze on Killian intense. “If you’re interested, that is.”

Killian took a sip of his drink before replying. “Yes, I’m definitely interested.”

Liam’s relieved smile rivaled the lights on the tree as he stood. Killian stood as well, and the two men embraced warmly.

“This would be a dream come true, brother,” Liam said, patting him on the back before releasing him.

“It would,” Killian agreed. “I’ve missed you all.”

“We’ve missed you, too,” Liam said. “It’ll be so good to have you and Alice here in town and working in the same building.”

“It’s not a done deal yet, Liam,” Killian said laughing. “There’s still a lot up in the air about the entire situation.”

Liam scoffed and waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. “Pfft. It’ll work out. I can feel it in my bones.”

Killian smiled warmly and turned toward the stairs. “We’ll see. I hope so. Goodnight, brother. Merry Christmas.”

“Goodnight, Killian. Merry Christmas. Love you.”

“Love you, too.” Killian smiled and climbed the stairs to his room leaving a very happy Liam behind him.

~*~*~

Thank you for reading and sharing. New Years date will post on Tuesday!

#a christmas surprise #krystal writes #art by krystal #new chapter #christmas fluff

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mod-python · 1 year ago

Note

(https://www.tumblr.com/salty-cs/742845196636717056/im-the-noooo-anon-but-i-was-wondering-where-youd) -idk how to properly tag someone Yep! I was removed from CSDS, because i "leaked" stuff back in Dec, even though, that was my friend at the time, and if i ever was too back then, I would show up off anon, im not a pussy-- anyways!~ Since I actually held a lot of this stuff for a few months, i am off anon now, and sharing my experience about it :3 I feel A LOT better, getting away from csds and cs even. I wish I knew who you were! I wish I added some people on disc before i was thanos snapped

#off anon #leaflasun

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jarienn972 · 6 years ago

Text

Curse of Undoings - Part 11

Emma's off to battle the Black Fairy while an unconscious Killian battles for his life. That's pretty much what this chapter focuses on but, to change the pace a bit, I gave this chapter a bit of a different flow since much of the action is taking place simultaneously. (Please excuse any inaccuracies with the OR scenes as it's not my field of expertise so I gloss over a lot of the details. It's more about setting up a dire situation than about being a medical drama.)

No major trigger warnings for this chapter but there are several rapid scene and POV changes. Tagging @killian-whump, @castielamigos and @hookaroo for this action packed chapter.

Read from the beginning on AO3 or FF.net or here on Tumblr: Pt1 Pt2 Pt3 Pt4 Pt5 Pt6 Pt7 Pt8 Pt9 Pt10

Henry started to lose track of time as he sat behind the Admission desk waiting for his grandparents to arrive. He was cognizant enough to know that it hadn't been too long since he'd arrived with Killian, but he truly had no idea if he'd been waiting ten minutes or sixty. When he finally spotted the Sheriff cruiser pulling up to the Emergency entrance, his spirits lifted a little. At least, for the first time today, he would have someone he could rely on to get him through it all.

"Where's Killian Jones?" David demanded as the automated doors parted and he stomped purposefully into the Emergency ward with his wife following behind, shaking her head dismissively at her husband's overly forceful behavior.

"David, this is a hospital," Snow reminded him. "You really shouldn't be shouting."

"Mr. Jones was just taken up to the OR for surgery to remove the bullet," nurse Cathy advised the Prince. "It'll be a while before we know anything more, sir."

"Alright," David replied in a more muted tone as he got closer to the Admission desk. "Is my grandson around here somewhere?"

"I'm right here," Henry said as he popped up out of his chair so David could see him behind the tall desk. "What took you guys so long?"

"Sorry, Henry," Snow began. "David couldn't find the keys to the car."

"Hey, it's not my fault that Emma moved them!" David snapped back in mock offense. "I thought they'd still be in her desk drawer, not hanging on a peg on the break room wall." Snow gave her husband the of course, dear look, but didn't question him further. "Anyway, how was Hook when you got here?"

"He was having a really hard time breathing," Henry told them. "They thought the bullet hit his right lung and they said he'd lost a lot of blood, but I already knew that. He'd been bleeding pretty heavily from those cuts on his back and the stab wound in his shoulder even before Gideon shot him."

"You think Gideon was really trying to shoot you?" David asked, although he was really wanting to learn more about Hook's other wounds and how they'd originated.

"I know he was. Well, I mean I'm pretty sure he was. I didn't actually see him because I was too busy arguing with Mom. I just heard Killian shout, he shoved me, and I hit the sidewalk as the gun went off."

David massaged his temples with his thumb and middle finger as he tried to figure it all out. What happened happened to his family in the hours he was missing and where the hell had they even gone to during that time? The Black Fairy had clearly done a number on everyone and whatever she'd done had certainly done serious damage to his daughter's psyche. He wouldn't feel an ounce of remorse for whatever Emma had planned for Fiona.

"What did Fiona do to all of you while we were gone? Hell, what did she do to us?" David questioned, his face wrought with frustration and confusion.

"She made Mom believe that Killian had murdered you and Grandma and filled Mom's head with so much hatred towards him because she was trying to destroy True Love. She wanted Mom to kill her own True Love so that she could undo all of the stories. She trapped the both of you, Mom, Aunt Zelena and probably a few other townspeople inside an enchanted snow globe that fell and broke when Killian pushed me out of the way… But the worst was the book. Everything in the book was fading away…"

"We were trapped in a snow globe?" David asked quizzically before Snow interrupted him.

"Oh, speaking of your book…" Snow jumped into the conversation with a hint of a smile on her lips. "We brought it back for you, along with your backpack. It was a little damp and I think I got all of the glass shards cleaned off of it. It's out in the car."

"Did you open the book? Are the stories still fading away?" Henry asked anxiously.

"I don't know," she replied. "I just scooped it up and cleaned it up for you. Didn't think to open it."

"Can we go get it while we're waiting? I need to see if it's coming back… to see if we broke the whole curse."

"Okay, come with me," David stated. "The car's right outside." Henry hurried toward the automated doors with David and Snow following right on their grandson's heels. Henry saw the backpack resting on the back seat of the cruiser and didn't waste a second retrieving it. He immediately yanked the book out of the pack and flipped through a few pages.

"It's still not all back," Henry announced, displaying one of the faded images for his grandparents. "See? Most of the color and portions of the text are still missing. I don't think the curse is completely broken."

"What if the curse hinges on Killian's survival?" Snow suggested. "If her goal was to destroy True Love, if he dies, Fiona's plan might still go through."

"Regina thought there could be repercussions," David reminded her. "I hope that pirate's survival instinct is still as strong as ever." David's ears perked up at a rumble of thunder off in the distance. "Guess we'd better get back inside to wait. Seems like a storm is rolling in."

"I hope that's really just a rainstorm…" Snow stated, her brow furrowed with worry.

Emma's instinct led her to Storybrooke's infamous clock tower above the library where she found Fiona eagerly awaiting her opponent on the catwalk atop the spiraling staircase. The Black Fairy was no longer attired in the tailored business suit she'd been sporting earlier but had donned her feathery, raven black gown, accessorized with a shiny long sword. It wasn't exactly an outfit that Emma would have chosen for a sword fight, but she wasn't certain of Fiona's level of experience in non-magical battle.

"Certainly took you long enough, Savior," the Black Fairy greeted her sarcastically. "I didn't expect you'd keep me waiting after the curse broke."

"Sorry. Had to stop and pick up the proper armaments first," Emma responded flatly as she reached the top of the stairs, internally cringing at the echo of her footsteps throughout the tower. She brandished the sword Rumple had provided which elicited a haughty laugh from Fiona.

"So, you've been chatting with my worthless son, I see," Fiona chuckled. You sure you want to wage the battle using the weapon your visions revealed was fated to kill you?"

"As long as you're on the receiving end, I'm just fine with it. If I'm meant to die, you had better believe that I'm taking you with me."

"You seem a little testy, Emma," the fairy grinned as she raised her sword. "Something else on your mind?"

"I'm quite sure you know what's on my mind – and that's precisely why I'm here to kill you!" Emma growled. "Now, since you don't have any magic to fight me, you think your skill with a sword is good enough? Or are you afraid to fight me without your powers?"

"Oh, I've some practice with a sword…" Fiona sneered as she surged forward, their blades crashing together. Emma really wasn't surprised that Fiona would have some sword fighting experience. After all, it seemed as though everyone from the Enchanted Forest had training with some sort of weapon. Fiona had probably been the one who'd instructed Gideon because their moves were similar. Of course, Fiona was right about one thing – Emma was fighting distracted.

And she became further distracted when she saw a flash of lightning illuminating the darkening skies outside of the tower. It had been clear a few minutes ago when she'd marched down Main Street to face off with Fiona, so what had changed? The fairy took note of the startled expression on her opponent's face and used it to her advantage, catching Emma off-guard as she scored a blow to her left shoulder, knocking Emma to the grated metal floor of the catwalk.

"What's the matter, Emma? Don't like the weather?" Fiona taunted her as Emma scrambled to get back on her feet.

"You don't have this kind of magic right now…" Emma stammered, shaking her head in disbelief. "What the hell is going on?"

"Did you honestly think that getting your memories and your family back from my little prison meant that the curse was broken?" Fiona lowered her sword momentarily as she laughed maniacally, yet she was very much in control. "The heart of my curse has always been undoing True Love. That storm brewing outside means that your very own True Love is dying. The moment his heart stops beating for good, this town and everyone in it will be swept away. It's not exactly what I had wanted - I would have preferred that you'd done it, but either way, I take all of the happy endings with me…"

"Well then, I guess you die first." Emma swung the heavy sword towards Fiona's midsection but the fairy was faster, easily fending off Emma's parry as the skies continued to grow blacker, illuminated only by the intermittent flashes of lightning.

"Time's growing short, Savior," Fiona gloated. "Do you really want to spend your last few minutes fighting with me instead of saying goodbye to your family?"

"Killian's a survivor. He'll pull through this and if I kill you, I can still save my family."

"Really? Prepared to bet your life on it?"

Emma set her jaw and scowled. This bitch was going down. She owed it to her family – and especially to her husband.

"There's the bullet," Dr. Whale announced from behind his mask. "It's definitely embedded into the rib just as the X-ray suggested. Let's get it out of there and see what we can do to repair the bone. Looks as though we'll probably need to pin it back together. Janet, can I get some suction over here? These little bleeders are making it difficult to see into the incision clearly." He used the point of his scalpel to indicate the spot where blood was pooling. He wanted to get this bullet removed quickly so the pirate wouldn't bleed to death on his operating room table. Jones' blood pressure was still dangerously low and Whale suspected that there might still be internal bleeding around the puncture wound to his patient's left shoulder, but the bullet wound definitely took precedence. His right lung had already collapsed from the trauma and Whale knew that a portion of the tissue probably couldn't be salvaged. That would have to be re-evaluated later though since this life-saving procedure was of the utmost importance.

With his forceps, Whale gripped the offending chunk of lead but just as he prepared to extract it from the surrounding bone, the bright lamp above the table flickered.

"What the hell?" the doctor exclaimed as he paused. " Did somebody just bump the lamp?"

"No, Doctor," came a chorus of replies just as the lamp flickered again – only this time, it wasn't the only device in the room that seemed to be malfunctioning. The monitor tracking the patient's vitals was suddenly registering wild fluctuations in the pattern of wavy lines and numbers and sounded its distress as a series of loud beeps and blips.

"Doctor, I don't know if he's going arrhythmic or if our equipment is going haywire…" the nurse in charge of monitoring vitals spoke up just as all of the lines went solid and crimson warning lights lit up the screen.

"Damnit Jones!" Whale growled. "You are not dying on me!" Not willing to rely solely on the potentially failing monitors, Whale dropped his tools onto a nearby tray and found a stethoscope to confirm for himself if his patient's heart had stopped. He tossed aside one of the mint green surgical drapes to get better access to his patient's chest and soon verified that he couldn't hear a heartbeat. "Get me the defibrillator paddles!" As the nurse prepped the machine, Whale pressed the heel of his palm into Jones' sternum to begin compressions, silently mouthing a prayer that whatever was causing the power fluctuations wouldn't affect the defibrillator before he had a chance to shock the pirate's heart back into rhythm.

"Fully charged now, Doctor," the nurse stated as she carefully handed the defibrillator paddles to Whale one at a time.

"Okay, everybody clear!" he ordered, the team immediately making certain that they weren't in contact with either the patient or any part of the operating room table. Satisfied that it was safe to proceed, Whale touched the paddles to either side of his patient's chest, the jolt sending electricity surging through Jones' unresponsive body. The monitor reflected a brief flash of activity before it returned to a flat line. "Charge again!" Whale snapped impatiently at the nurse while she reset the equipment for a second attempt.

As Whale repeated the process, the room was plunged into darkness for a few precious seconds until the emergency generators kicked in. The doctor cursed under his breath at the unfortunate timing of whatever was causing these power fluctuations. There was little time to waste if he was going to have even a chance to get Jones' heart beating again. He counted nearly thirty seconds before the monitors powered back on with the same warnings flashing on the screen.

"It's going to be a few more seconds before the defibrillator is ready again," the nurse informed him as she tinkered with a series of buttons and dials to get the machine working again.

"Then somebody hold these while I start compressions again," Whale stated as he passed the paddles to another nurse. "We can't afford to waste time here so please - tell me when that damned thing is charged again!"

"It won't be long now," Fiona taunted as the blade of her sword clashed against Emma's once again. "Storybrooke's infrastructure is already failing. Can't you feel it?"

"I have had just about enough of you!" a disgusted Emma shouted as she determined it was time to try a new tactic. As Fiona shifted her stance to ward off Emma's strike, Emma suddenly changed direction, pulling back instead of advancing and stomping her boot onto the feathery hem of Fiona's gown. The move caught the fairy off balance and as soon as Emma saw the opening, she slammed the butt end of the sword into Fiona's rib cage, dropping the fairy to her knees as she became entangled in her own skirt. Fiona attempted to recover her bearings but this time, Emma moved faster, bringing the tip of her blade to the hollow of Fiona's throat.

"Go ahead, Savior – kill me!" Fiona hissed at her opponent. "Go ahead and do it, but it won't stop my curse. The storm is settling in all around us because your True Love is dead!"

Emma wanted more than anything at that moment to simply plunge the blade straight into the Black Fairy's jugular, but her trembling hands - and her own morality wouldn't allow her to do it.

"Hand too shaky to do this right?" the fairy mocked her. "Ah, the curse of being the Savior…"

Emma squeezed her eyes closed for a few seconds, keeping the blade pressed into Fiona's neck as she tried to push the visions and the tremors out of her head. "No – this is all just a trick! These visions, the tremors – it's all you! You've been getting into my head to make me fear this battle, but you know what – I'm not afraid of it anymore and I don't even have to kill you to win." With one swift, skillful swath, Emma drew the tip of the blade from left to right across Fiona's neck, leaving behind a shallow cut that was just deep enough to draw blood.

"That's all? Is that all you have?" Fiona scoffed.

"That's all I need," Emma replied with a triumphant grin as she watched a series of scarlet rivulets trickle down onto the flat of the sword's blade, triggering a reaction that the Black Fairy hadn't anticipated. The blade began to glow with an unearthly greenish light and Emma thought she'd explain what was happening. "You see, your son told me that he coated the blade with a special potion that only required a drop of your blood to activate and now – now I get to send you back where you belong!"

Fiona's eyes widened as the glowing sword began to pull her toward it. "No… No, he couldn't have…" the fairy fumbled for words as she found herself being dragged into the magnetic field the sword was creating. "No!" She had time for one final exclamation as the sword seemed to suck her into itself, causing Emma to lose her grip on the handle which sent the sword clattering onto the grating. As it hit the floor, the glow faded away, allowing the blade to resume its normal appearance - and the only remaining trace of the Black Fairy was a fluttering of stray feathers.

A shaken, exhausted Emma leaned against the tower wall, unable to trust that her weakening knees would continue to support her. While Rumple has said that simply drawing blood from Fiona would send her back to her realm, it had still been quite disconcerting to see her opponent sucked into the blade like that. The Black Fairy was now trapped permanently in some distant dimension, but her cursed storm wasn't letting up. Now Emma feared that Fiona had been right – it might already be too late.

She needed to get to the hospital now.

#ouat ff #killian jones ff #cs ff #killian whump #whump fic #curse of undoings #adding the cs tag now too

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serickswrites · 2 years ago

Text

Just Exist III

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Days and days, or perhaps it was weeks and weeks later, Hero got up from their stool before Villain had risen. Got up and went to where Villain was. They stared down at the sleeping Villain, not sure how they wanted to go about this.

“Jesus, Hero, gave me a fright,” Villain said as they startled.

“S-S-Sorry,” Hero whispered, instantly regretting what they were doing.

“It’s all good. We’ve all been there before. What time is it? Do you want breakfast?” Villain leapt out of bed, their energy already rising.

Hero followed along behind Villain, not sure what to say. Or how to say it.

It was only when Villain had a steaming mug of coffee in one hand, spatula in the other did Hero speak again.

“What are my orders?” Hero said softly.

“What?” Villain cocked an eyebrow as they stirred the eggs in the pan.

“My orders, what are they?” Hero tried not to duck their head too much. But they felt like disappearing. Not existing. Maybe they had worn out their welcome with Villain.

“I gave them to you already.” Villain sipped their coffee. “Seems like you’re having a hard time with them though.”

“I don’t understand?” Hero tried to fight the tears that were filling their eyes.

Villain set a plate full of eggs, toast, and bacon in front of Hero. They set another steaming mug of coffee down. They added cream and sugar. “Hero, I told you to exist here. Those are your orders. Just exist.”

Hero started to cry. They didn’t know how to exist without someone telling them what to do. Ordering them around. Giving them missions and objectives to accomplish. “I...I can’t.”

“You can. And you will. I’ll help you. And it will be no pressure. How does that sound?”

Hero nodded, realizing that Villain wasn’t saying they couldn’t do anything. But that they could do anything. Such freedom was something Hero had only ever imagined. And now that it was within their grasp, they weren’t sure what to do. But they would try. Try to just exist.

Tags: @percyjacksonstransbrother @blipblipbloop @mistythedritten

@stuffandatherstuff @batdog102 @lilflowerwriter @tiny-daggers-up-to-heaven @bluebearcandy @otherwiseiamnotallowedtoscroll @severeblizzardsoul @the-blind-one-speaks @whump-dump @potato-wolf164 @omen-the-undying-kaizoku @a-place-to-put-poetry @yeahimobsessedwithencanto @whyamihereanyway25 @adalarovenor @lunenyx98 @wannarunawayfromhere @nightsshadow1 @psychomarine0311 @hugs4zhongli @qualityrabbitsoup @justalostshadeofblue @whatinteresthave @cafesho @wimbeldonsoot @moschinski @delightfulsoulalpaca @writingstation @itarobattemon @bliss757 @d-cs @pic-star01 @st0rmm @shadowcatp269 @melancholic-bookworm @pigeonwhumps @wankusbonkus @whumppsychology @smuwfy-side-blog @keeper-of-all-the-random-things @random-writers-sideblog @jkl-uwu @coolstormyskies03-blog @stayasleepanddream @strawberry-seed28 @doublericenobeans @warpweft @thedeepvoidinmyheart @sweetpeathecat @valeexpris606 @dodo-docs @adalarovenor

#serickswrites #writeblr #hero #villain #hero x villain #hero x villain community #queue

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wholoveseggs · 11 months ago

Text

Rules {Part Four}

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

Part Four

Tonight is the night of the dinner party and tensions are running high. Caught between the love for your family and your own desires, things take a dramatic turn when you make a choice you can't take back.

♡♡ I finally get to write about my #1 favorite TVD moment! The Dinner Partyyy! {the campyiness, the tension, the dramaaaa... Its peak TVD} Hope you enjoy! PS: there will be a part five ♡♡

6.4k words - Warnings: salvatore!sibling reader, no smut, lots and lots of drama, so much angst, Elijah being the sexiest middle-part menace he can be, secret affair, forbidden romance, Damon being over-protective, finally adding some proper Stefan moments to the plot, Elena being Elena, my sweet angel ♡ ANDIE STARRR ♡ , vervain, tension, violence, john gilbert & chocolate mousse...

{Part One} {Part Two}{Part Three}{Part Five}

♡♡ Tag-List ♡♡

Trying to fix my tags! I re-added all of you, and now you will be posted at the top!

If you no longer wished to be tagged just shoot me a DM {I won't be offended} xoxo~

@gorgeouslydangerous @starkleila @lydia1369sworld @notleylaaa @vampiresluv

@myanmy @xflowerbombxo @maryvibess @always-and-forever-daydreaming @criminallminds @rosemarypotion @spnaquakindgdom @amournoir @meeom @damienmorton @wickedmuse @sunkissedebony97 @idk00sblog @savannaounana @cs-please @complicatedandconfusing-25 @youcanhavemybuckanyday @akala6670229 @yeaiamme2 @itsjulzandmydiamonds @spideysbabe @witch-of-letters @elijahstwink @rosecentury @sekaishell @ziayamikaelson @amanda08319 @starshipcookie @li-da-savage @veggie-eggrolls @spideybv28 @loving-and-dreaming @fancycassie-stayfancy @hcqwxrtss123

You sat in front of your vanity, outlining your lips with a deep shade of red, finishing off the look with a dab of gloss.

Damon didn't tell you any details of what he was planning, beyond having a weapon that could kill an Original, which would have seemed absurd if it wasn't your brother. You knew what he was capable of.

Damon had left not too long ago, telling you he was going to lunch with his girlfriend Andie, and would be back later.

All you knew was that there would be a dinner party tonight and if Elijah showed up, Damon was going to kill him.

Your phone rang and you glanced over to see Stefan's name on the screen, your pressed speaker, and went back to applying your lipstick.

"Hey," You said, pressing your lips together and checking the color.

"Hello," Stefan replied, sounding a bit tense.

"How's your trip with Elena going?" You asked, grabbing a tube of mascara.

"Well as it can be," he said vaguely.

"I guess you know about the deal then? Elena is willing to die for you, that's very sweet," you said casually, applying the mascara to your eyelashes.

"When did you get so callous? She isn't a martyr, she's just naive," he sighed.

You felt a pang of guilt for teasing him. He was right, Elena was kind and gentle, and both of your brothers loved her.

"Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that. I know how you feel about her," You said, trying to sound comforting. "It's just that she possesses an unfortunate face,"

Stefan let out a humorless chuckle, and sighed. "Katherine's face,"

"Yeahhhh," you laughed.

"Funny you should mention her, Elena has been reading some old journals written by Johnathan Gilbert," Stefan explained. "It's brought up a lot of memories,"

"Didn't you eat him?" You asked, screwing the cap onto the mascara.

His silence was an answer in and of itself.

"Are you afraid that if Elena learns about your lovely alter-ego she won't love you anymore?" You teased.

"This is serious," he sighed.

"Ok, ok, sorry," You said, standing up and smoothing out your dress. "Always so uptight,"

"Not everyone has it so easy, sister," he grumbled.

"What does that mean?" You asked, your tone slightly offended.

"It's nothing," he sighed.

"No, no. Please, speak your mind," You said, rolling your eyes.

"You've always just been good at it," He began, you could hear the annoyance in his voice.

"At what?" You snapped, pacing around your room.

"Being a vampire," He said bluntly. "You claim to loathe Katherine, yet you aren't that different,"

You didn't know what to say, his words cut you. How dare he compare you to the woman who destroyed your life, turned you and your brothers into monsters. Kept them under her toxic spell while you watched them suffer.

"That's not fair, Stefan," You said softly, feeling hurt and defensive.

"Isn't it?" He asked.

You stayed silent, unsure of what to say, you just stared out the window, the sun shining brightly outside.

"Anyway, I don't have time to debate your morals," Stefan continued. "I'm just calling to tell you to watch out for Damon, killing Elijah won't be easy, he will need your help,"

"And here I thought you didn't trust me," You said, unable to hide the hurt in your voice.

"I trust you more than anyone," he said softly.

You wanted to tell him everything, how guilty and ashamed you felt. You didn't even know why you were feeling these things, Elijah was nothing to you, but you couldn't stop thinking about him, the pain in his eyes, the coldness in his voice, it haunted you.

And now you were going to kill him, Stefan was right... You weren't so different from Katherine.

"Then, trust me when I say, I'll handle it," You said, keeping your tone casual.

"Ok," he said, though his voice sounded hesitant. "Please be careful,"

"I will," you said softly, before ending the call.

You sat down on your bed and pulled on a pair of black velvet pumps. They were tall, and made your legs look amazing. You checked your lipstick and smoothed out your dress, and headed downstairs.

Damon was just arriving home, with Andie in tow. They were carrying bags of groceries, and setting them down in the kitchen.

"Hi, Andie," You smiled.

"Hello darlin," she said, her voice cheery, like always. "Don't tell me that your brother roped you into this mess,"

"Mess?" You asked, raising an eyebrow, giving Damon a questioning look.

"Andie doesn't believe in my abilities to cook," Damon rolled his eyes.

"Damon has a tendency to go overboard with things," she laughed.

Neither of them were actually talking about the cooking. Damon had obviously told her about his plans for the night.

"What are we serving tonight, then?" You asked, giving him a warning look.

"A nice rack of lamb, roasted vegetables, some salad..." Damon trailed off, looking around the kitchen. "Annnd... A dessert that will be sure to knock our guest's socks off,"

You and Andie made eye contact and she smiled, trying not to laugh.

"Sounds lovely, brother," You smiled, reaching out and patting him on the shoulder. "How can I help?"

Damon gave Andie a pointed look and she nodded and left the kitchen, leaving the two of you alone to chat.

"So," he began, as he pulled out a box of matches and lit the burner on the stove. "Change of plans,"

"Change?" You asked, leaning against the counter, crossing your arms.

"I need you to stay upstairs, away from the party," He said, avoiding your eyes.

"What?!" You said, glaring at him. "Why?"

"Because Jenna is coming, and she thinks you are Elena's age... I can't have her asking too many questions," Damon explained.

"That's such bullshit!" You growled, pushing off the counter. "You can't do this on your own,"

"Yes I can," he scoffed.

"So, what? I'm just supposed to stay hidden away in my room, twiddling my thumbs while you try and kill Elijah?" You asked, getting more irritated by the second.

"Yeah, pretty much," He said, his tone casual. "And when it's done you can help me dispose of the body,"

"Are you being fucking serious?" You spat.

"Relax," he chuckled.

"How am I supposed to relax when I know you are going to get yourself killed?!" You asked, throwing your hands in the air.

Damon put down the pan he was holding and turned around, walking over to you and getting in your face, his eyes wild and bright.

"Despite you being a ravenous little killer, you are still my baby sister," he said, his voice soft, but his eyes were still angry. "I was wrong to ask you for help, it's my job to protect you, not put you in harm's way,"

You didn't like this one bit, Damon was stubborn and headstrong, and once his mind was made up, there was no changing it. It infuriated you, the way he saw you as this helpless damsel. Yet, you weren't surprised, he had a tendency to go overboard with things and forget logic. The fact that you were a vampire and could handle yourself was something he often forgot.

You felt humiliated and helpless, and that made you angry, so fucking angry.

"Fuck you," You snapped, turning on your heel, storming out of the kitchen, Damon called after you, but you ignored him, slamming the door to your room shut.

You stood in the middle of the room, feeling a wave of emotion hit you. This wasn't like you, you never let yourself feel like this, so out of control. The last time you felt anything like this was years ago, when you were human.

You hated that feeling, the way your stomach would twist, and your heart would ache. But it wasn't because of Damon... It was because of Elijah.

The sound of the guests arriving floated up to your bedroom. You were sitting on your bed, a glass of wine in hand. You had been drinking all evening, trying to numb the anger, the sadness, and the regret.

The plan was already in motion, there was no stopping it now. Elijah was going to die, and you were told to stay put and let it happen.

You picked up the voices of several familiar people, Alaric, Jenna, Andie, even Elena's estranged father John. All chatting happily, blissfully unaware of your presence upstairs.

You looked down into your glass, you could see your vague reflection in the dark liquid. You couldn't stand the sight of yourself, the guilt, the shame… it was eating away at you, no longer could you sit there and wallow in it.

Fuck it, you thought. You finished the glass off with one large gulp and got up, walking over to the full-length mirror.

Your hair was down, the curls flowing down past your breasts, and your makeup was perfect, smoky eyes and deep red lips. All dressed up and nowhere to go, nobody to see.

You headed down the hallway, trying to be as quiet as possible, peeking through the railing on the stairs to see if anyone was there.

Then you heard Elijah's voice, it was hushed and cold, and the words were unintelligible, but it was him, and your heart skipped a beat.

You inched closer, straining your ears, desperate to hear more.

"Can I just say that if you have less than honorable intentions about how this evening is going to proceed, I suggest you reconsider."

His tone was dark and threatening, and you knew Damon would be on the receiving end.

"No, nothing, nothing dishonorable. Just getting to know you," Damon replied, and you could picture his cocky smile.

"Hmm. Well, that's good," Elijah sounded skeptical, and you could hear him walking inside and closing the door.

"Because, you know, although Elena and I have this deal, if you so much as make a move to cross me, I'll kill you and I'll kill everyone in this house. Are we clear?" Elijah's tone was firm and unwavering, and you could sense the tension.

You took a deep breath, steadying your nerves, and walked down the stairs. Your feet a bit wobbly in your heels, the wine was catching up with you.

Everyone was looking at you by the time you got to the bottom, and you were sure your face was flushed, your cheeks pink. But all you could see was Elijah. His dark eyes watching you, and your heart was racing. Surely he wouldn't kill you in front of all these people.

"Well, well, well. Look who decided to join us," Damon chuckled nervously, walking up to you and putting his arm around your shoulder, squeezing you forcefully. "This isn't a party for teenagers, sweet sister,"

The tension was thick, and it was clear that Damon didn't want you there.

"I just wanted to come say hello, I was getting bored upstairs," You said casually, pulling away from him.

"Oh, c'mon Damon, it's alright. She can stay for the food," said Jenna, giving you a warm smile. She was so kind, you didn't want to see her get hurt.

"No, really. She should be going, right sis?" Damon said, glaring at you.

"No, I think I'm gonna stay, I was promised dinner, after all," You replied, meeting his eyes, defiance shining in them.

Elijah cleared his throat, stepping towards you and Damon, his face neutral. "Nice to meet you Miss Salvatore," he took your hand and kissed it, his lips lingering for a moment longer than necessary.

Damon was looking at Elijah like he wanted to rip his throat out, and you had to resist the urge to smirk.

"And you, Mr. Smith," You replied, trying to hide your amusement.

Elijah gave you a knowing look, and a small smile formed on his lips.

"Call me Elijah," He replied, still holding your hand.

"Elijah, then," You nodded, a shiver running down your spine as his thumb traced your wrist.

You had no idea why he was acting so casual, he had to know this was a trap, and he was just standing there, touching you.

"Ok, now that everyone knows each other, let's eat," Andie cut in, leading everyone to the dining room.

Before you could follow, Damon grabbed your arm and pulled you aside, his expression one of pure rage.

"What are you doing?" Damon growled.

"Having dinner," You said, pushing him off and brushing past him, walking into the dining room.

The only empty seat available was next to Elijah, who grew stiff when you approached him.

"Is this ok?" You asked, smiling sweetly.

He nodded, pulling the chair out for you, and pushing it back in once you were seated, always the gentleman.

Everyone was seated, and the dinner party was in full swing. Jenna and Andie asked Elijah all about the local history of Mystic Falls, and he bullshitted his way through, telling them stories of the old families that founded the town, local folklore tales, and other nonsense.

Elijah seemed to relax a bit, although he was purposely avoiding looking or speaking to you, his gaze focused elsewhere. But every once in a while you could feel his hand brush yours under the table, making your skin tingle.

You were drinking wine like it was water, and you could feel the effect it was having on you. The world was fuzzy, and everything was so funny. You would giggle or let out an inappropriate snort whenever Elijah would talk, and your face was flush and hot.

"Not to be a party pooper but aren't you a little young to be drinking?" John Gilbert said, looking at you, his eyes narrowing.

You glared at him, raising an eyebrow, he knew that you were a vampire, four times his age no less. But you weren't about to argue in front of sweet and innocent Jenna, who had no clue about the existence of the monsters she was surrounded by.

"She can have a glass, as her guardian I allow it," Damon said casually, not bothering to look up from his plate.

"Ahh, I see, I suppose the rules are a bit more lax when you have Damon as a parent," John added, his expression bitter and cold.

"I think she's had more than a glass," Andie said softly, her tone was concerned as she looked you over.

You felt Elijah's hand come to rest on your thigh under the table, it made your heart skip a beat and Damon look up from his plate.

"She's fine," Damon said, his tone final.

The other guests exchanged awkward glances, Alaric cleared his throat uncomfortably and Jenna and Andie both had worried expressions on their faces.

Elijah's hand was moving higher up your thigh, and it was making your face flush, and you were starting to get wet.

You had no idea why he was touching you, considering he wanted to kill you. But you supposed there is a fine line between lust and loathing.

As soon as everyone finished their meal, Andie got up and Damon gave her a pointed look, whatever he had planned had just begun.

"The gentlemen should take their drinks in the study," she said, giving everyone a smile, her gaze lingering on Elijah.

"I have to say the food was almost as wonderful as the company," Elijah said, smiling at her, and standing up.

"I like you," Andie said softly, returning his smile.

You watched as the men left, Damon looked back at you before he followed them, giving you a wink, and closing the door.

You were fuming, the wine making you angrier than usual, you went to follow but Andie intercepted you, handing you a pile of plates.

Sighing, you reluctantly carried them to the kitchen and started loading the dishwasher, not wanting to draw too much attention.

"Here, let me help," Jenna smiled, taking the glasses from your hands.

"It's fine," You said, forcing a smile.

"Come, drink some water, your face is flushed," Andie said, handing you a glass.

"No more for you," John added, pouring the leftover wine down the drain.

You scowled at all three of them, lecturing you like you were a child. They had no idea what you were capable of, the things you've done. They wouldn't treat you like this if they did.

You took the water, glaring at them, and chugged it, setting the glass down with a little more force than necessary.

Alaric came rushing into the kitchen with a wild look in his eye. He made eye contact with you, and he was out of breath.

"We forgot dessert!" He said, sounding panicked.

"What?" Andie asked, confused.

"Dessert!" Alaric repeated, his body practically vibrating with fear.

Whatever was going on, it definitely wasn't about dessert.

"I can make a chocolate mousse...?" Jenna began, trailing off, looking at Alaric with confusion.

"Perfect! Let's go tell Damon and Elijah," Alaric said in a rush, motioning to Andie who gave him a questioning look but followed him out.

"What is going on?" Jenna asked, turning to you, her eyes wide.

"No idea," You lied, shrugging, hoping to sound convincing.

As soon as Jenna had her back turned, you slipped out of the kitchen and headed for the dining room.

Everyone had already returned, and the tension was palpable. Alaric looked stressed and Damon was smirking, which was a sure sign of a disaster.

Damon and John were seated on opposite ends of the table, glaring at each other, while Elijah sat in center. Andie and Alaric were behind him, rummaging through her bag for some reason.

"What I'd like to know, Elijah, is how do you intend on killing Klaus?" John said sharply, looking over his wine glass at him.

It seemed that the dinner party discussions had finally turned to the real business at hand, you inched into the room quietly, trying not to draw any attention.

"Gentlemen, there's a few things we should probably get clear right now. I allow you to live solely to keep an eye on Elena. I allow Elena to remain in her house living her life with her friends as she does as a courtesy. If you become a liability, I'll take her away from you and you'll never see her again." Elijah's eyes flickered to you, but only for a second.

Before Damon or John had a chance to respond, Andie returned with her notebook in hand, sitting down across from Elijah, ready to interview him, "Okay. My first question is when you got here to Mystic..."

Suddenly, time seemed to slow down, you watched Alaric approach Elijah from behind, an ornate looking dagger in his hand, ready to stab him in the back.

You moved without thinking, lunging at Alaric, wrapping your hand around his wrist and snapping it with ease, causing the dagger to fall to the floor with a clatter.

Alaric crumbled to the floor in pain, looking up at you in shock.

The room suddenly exploded into action, dark veins spread beneath Elijah's eyes, and he lunged at Damon, knocking him over the table and onto the ground, grabbing him by the neck and lifting him into the air, his eyes ablaze.

John grabbed Andie, pulling her out of the way, while Alaric crawled along the floor, cradling his wrist.

You grabbed Elijah's arm, trying to pry him off of Damon.

"Don't! Let him go!" You shouted, struggling against him, his muscles were tensed, and his grip was tight, he wasn't budging.

Elijah looked over his shoulder at you, his dark eyes cold and angry. You gave him a pleading look, trying to convey how important it was that he listened.

"Please, he's my brother, please don't hurt him," You said, your voice breaking as your tears began to flow.

He dropped Damon, who fell to the floor with a thud, coughing and sputtering.

Elijah looked around the room at all the frightened faces, then to the floor where the dagger was lying and picked it up, examining it.

"Clever boy," Elijah looked at Alaric, shaking his head and tsking. "I haven't seen one of these in quite some time,"

He moved to attack Alaric but you jumped in front of him, shielding him with your body.

"Please don't kill him," You pleaded, putting your hands on his chest, trying to push him back.

He was immovable, but his gaze softened when his eyes met yours and he put the dagger in his jacket pocket. His eyes went back to Damon, who was still on the floor, glaring at him.

"Please, don't hurt anyone," You repeated, your hand moving to his hair, running your fingers through it.

He closed his eyes and leaned into your touch, his shoulders sagging, the tension leaving his body.

"Get away from my sister," Damon snarled, his voice rough from being choked.

Elijah looked at Damon, giving him a wicked smile and wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close to him, your face pressed against his chest.

"Oh, she doesn't mind," Elijah smirked, looking at Damon with smug satisfaction.

Damon looked from you to Elijah, his expression a mixture of disbelief and pure rage. His brain couldn't quite compute what he was seeing.

"What did I say?" Elijah began, pausing to pretend he was pondering, "Oh yes! If you so much as make a move to cross me, I'll kill you and I'll kill everyone in this house,"

Your hands curled into his shirt, tugging on it, looking at him pleadingly. His dark eyes went to yours, and his gaze softened, he kissed you on the cheek, wiping away a stray tear.

"Fortunately for you, your lovely sister has been most gracious in her hospitality," He said, looking over your head at Damon.

You were visibly shaken up, looking at your brother with tear filled eyes, your hands trembling against Elijah's chest. He lifted your chin, forcing you to look at him instead of your devastated looking brother.

"So much for rule one," he said quietly, kissing the corner of your mouth.

Damon was seething, his fists clenched, and he was practically shaking with anger.

"Now, I hate to cut this evening short, but it seems I've overstayed my welcome," Elijah sighed, pulling away from you, his tone neutral.

"And as for you. Let me be perfectly clear, if you, or anyone else, attempt something like this again, I will kill you. No mercy. Understood?" Elijah asked, looking directly at Damon.

"Yes," Damon said, his voice dripping with venom.

"Wonderful. Now, I think it's time for me to take my leave," Elijah turned and began to walk out, "I'll be in touch," he called over his shoulder.

As soon as Elijah left, all eyes were on you. Damon's angry glare made you squirm, and the disgusted expressions from Andie, Alaric and John made you feel deep shame. You needed to get out of there.

But before you could , Damon grabbed you, the speed blowing your hair back. His hand went to your neck and he threw you against the wall, his fingers crushing your windpipe.

"Are you crazy? You’re fucking Elijah? ELIJAH?" He yelled right in your face, his rage so uncontrolled he lashed out and hit the wall beside your head, causing the plaster to crack and break.

"What the hell were you thinking?" He continued, his eyes wild, spit flying from his mouth.

"Damon," Andie said softly, stepping forward to calm him. John held her back, helping Alaric to his feet and pulling them both out of the room. John knew better than to get between Damon and his wrath.

"How did this happen? How did he get to you?" He shook you harder, causing the plaster dust to rain down. "Did he compel you? I told you to drink vervain every day!"

You kneed him in the stomach, forcing him to drop you, and you gasped for air.

"No! He didn't compel me, he would never," You snapped, rubbing your neck. "I...I care for him,"

Damon stared at you, his breathing ragged, and his expression completely blank. Then he started to laugh, it was devoid of any warmth, it was all bitterness and mockery.

"Care for him? What is he, your boyfriend? Did he ask you to go steady in-between planning Elena's murder?" Damon sneered.

"That's not fair," You said, scowling, folding your arms.

"So he's the reason you've been so distant? The reason you've been acting so weird? What, he's using you to get to Elena, isn't he?" Damon was pacing back and forth, his hands in his hair.

"No... We never discus-" You tried to explain.

"This is unbelievable," He groaned, cutting you off, and walking over to the liquor cart, pouring himself a drink, then he froze.

"Please tell me you didn't fuck him in this house," he said, his voice dangerously low.

"Not exactly...," You trailed off, averting your gaze, biting your lip.

Damon downed his drink and smashed the glass against the wall, "Fuck, Y/N, do you have any idea what you've done?"

"I had a plan! Everything just spiraled out of control," You said, your voice shaking, feeling overwhelmed and frustrated. "I tried... I tried to steal the moonstone, for you! For us! He caught me and... and I was stupid. I'm sorry.”

"So you thought you could pull a honeypot on an original?" Damon looked completely dumbfounded, and a little impressed. "Are you insane? Or just dumb?"

His words cut you deeply, mostly because they were the same things you had said to yourself, a million times.

"I thought it would work," You shrugged, your arms dropping, you were feeling defeated.

"And I suppose letting him fuck you was an added bonus, huh?" Damon shot back.

"Yes!" You screamed, frustrated, throwing your hands up. "I like him, Damon! He's interesting and attractive and he treats me like an equal!"

Damon snorted, "Because he thinks you're a slut."

That stung, he had never called you that before and tears sprang to your eyes. You glared at him, as they began to spill down your cheeks. You were done arguing with him, and you were done listening to him. He didn't understand, and you had nothing more to say.

Without another word, you pulled the dagger out of your bra, you had managed to remove it from Elijah's pocket without anyone noticing. You threw it at the floor at Damon's feet and stormed off.

Damon looked at the dagger, his brow furrowed, then back up at the spot you had just occupied, a sinking feeling in his stomach. He had made you cry.

You ran to your room and crawled under the covers, letting all your pent up emotions flow out of you, coming out in gasps and hiccups. You had no idea what to do, you didn't want to choose between your family and Elijah. You didn't want to be forced to pick a side.

You didn't want to have to give up what you felt when you were around him.

You didn't know how.

It had been a few hours since the disastrous dinner party. You were still laying in your bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying the events over and over again in your mind.

You heard Damon leave not long after your argument. You had no idea where he ran off too. Knowing him, he went to find more trouble. Part of you regretted the fight, the other part of you wanted to strangle him.

You were exhausted, physically and emotionally. It was like every single part of your being was weighed down.

Just then you heard a loud commotion downstairs, the voices of your brothers and Elena floated up to you. There was a strange scraping sound, like they were dragging something heavy across the floor.

You quickly got up to investigate, hopping down the stairs, stopping suddenly in front of a very nervous looking Elena.

"What happened?" You asked, trying to look past her to your brothers.

"Damon told me what happened," She said softly, reaching out to touch you. But you spotted a pair of legs being dragged away towards the stairs leading to the basement.

Your eyes went wide as you figured out whose legs they were. Panic swept over you, and you pushed past Elena and rushed to the basement after them.

Stefan and Damon were throwing Elijah's body into the cell, he looked gray and cold, the dagger sticking out of his chest.

"Elijah! No, no, no," You cried, screaming and trying to get past your brothers. But they were too strong for you, holding you back, and quickly closing the gates.

"Let me go!" You punched at Damon's chest, desperate to get inside the cell, tears streaming down your face.

Damon just held you, refusing to release you, your screams filling the small basement.

Stefan locked the door, following you and Damon upstairs. You were kicking and fighting like a crazy woman, begging them to let you see him.

Once you made it upstairs, Stefan grabbed you and held you in his arms, still you fought and cried for him, despite his pleas for you to stop.

"Please calm down," Stefan begged, holding onto you tightly.

"He came to take Elena, we had no choice," Damon said, his voice sounding tired, like this had been an exhausting evening for him.

"He promised me he wouldn't," You said, your voice cracking, your throat raw.

"He lied, Y/N, that's what he does," Damon replied, sounding exasperated.

"Shut up!" You screamed, jerking out of Stefan's arms and rushing at Damon, your fist connecting with the side of his face. "You did this! He wouldn't have done anything if you hadn't provoked him!"

You managed to hit him twice, splitting his lip, before Stefan grabbed you again, pulling you back.

"Knock it off!" Stefan said sharply, giving you a firm shake. You stopped struggling for a moment, panting.

Elena came and stood next to Damon, looking more sad than angry. She wasn't sure what to say, or what to do in this situation.

"I love him Stefan, please," you begged, sniffling. It was the first time you could admit it out loud, to anyone, to yourself and you wished it was Elijah you could have told first. "You have to let me see him, even if he's dead...I just have to see him."

Your words cut through Stefan's heart. Trembling in his arms, he had never seen you so distraught and in pain. He looked over your head at Damon and Elena, silently asking for permission.

"Fine, I'll take you, but only because you'll probably burn the house down if I don't," Damon said, rolling his eyes.

Stefan let you go and you immediately ran down the stairs, your feet skidding slightly on the concrete floor. You rushed into the cell and fell to your knees beside Elijah's body.

"lijah," you said softly, trying to coax him out of sleep.

He was gray, covered in dark veins, his skin felt cold. Your fingers trembled as you touched his face, your fingers running through his hair.

You laid down next to him, resting your head against his chest, listening to the lack of heartbeat. You lay there for a few minutes, crying to yourself.

You could feel Damon watching you, and it pissed you off.

"Please leave me alone," You said softly, your voice breaking, not bothering to turn and look at him.

Damon was standing there, leaning against the wall, his arms folded, and he looked at you thoughtfully.

"He's dangerous, and he's using you," Damon replied.

"He never learned anything from me!" You snapped, glaring at him, the anger boiling over. "We had an agreement, an understanding! It wasn't like that!"

Damon shook his head, and looked away from you.

"You can't be in love with him. You barely know him." Damon was trying his hardest to get you to see sense.

"Maybe, maybe I'm not," You lied, sniffling, "I just feel like there's something there, something real and I've never felt this way before,"

Damon let out an exasperated sigh, and closed his eyes.

"This will end badly, I'm not going to try and convince you anymore. You're too damn stubborn," He said, opening his eyes and looking down at you.

"Can you bring me a blanket and pillow?" You asked, changing the subject.

"No," Damon said, turning on his heel and leaving the basement.

"Asshole," You muttered, moving back to rest your head against his chest.

A few minutes later, Stefan came down the stairs, carrying a blanket and a pillow, and a bottle of bourbon.

"Thanks," You smiled weakly, taking the blanket and covering yourself with it. You took the pillow and gently lifted Elijah's head, placing the pillow underneath him.

"Is he really dead?" You asked quietly, not looking at Stefan, staring at Elijah's face.

Stefan let out a long sigh, he hated seeing you like this, the sight of you curled up next to a corpse was not a normal one.

I'm not entirely sure," he knelt down, crossing his legs and he sat on the floor next to you. "but he isn't alive either, he's frozen, asleep,"

He reached out and touched your shoulder, turning you to look at him.

"Damon wants to keep him on ice, he doesn't trust Elijah and... neither do I," he tried to say it gently, wanting you to know the truth. "if you wake him up, he will kill us for what we've done... Elena tricked him... He will not be happy,"

"Maybe he will forgive us," you said, looking at him with hopeful eyes, "what if he can feel everything? He must be so scared and lonely,"

"Do you really think he can feel fear?" Stefan asked, raising an eyebrow. "My impression of him is that he isn't the type,"

"He has a big heart, under all that arrogance," you smiled softly, touching his face, brushing the hair from his forehead. "Kinda like someone we know,"

"You've got it bad," Stefan shook his head, a little bit in awe of your feelings. "I've never seen you like this, not with any other guy."

You looked over at him, his expression was a mix of worry and sadness.

"Do you hate me? For loving him?" You asked, a knot forming in your stomach.

"No, never," he said, pulling you into his arms. "I'm worried, and scared... But I could never hate you. Ever."

"I can convince him Stefan, I can get him on our side, I know I can," you said, feeling the tears come back.

"And if you can't?" He asked, rubbing your back.

"Then... Then... I don't know..." You said, a sob choking you, unable to speak.

Stefan hated himself for what he had to do next, but it was the only way he could think to keep everyone safe.

While you were still in his arms, he pulled out a syringe and jabbed it in your neck, pushing the liquid vervain in. It was a large dose and it took about three seconds before you passed out.

He caught you before you slumped to the ground, lifting your sleeping body and carrying you upstairs.

Damon and Elena were waiting anxiously, eager to hear that Stefan had been able to talk you down from freeing Elijah.

"Is she ok?" Elena moved forward, "Did she try anything?"

"She had a bit of a melt down," Stefan said honestly, he placed you on the couch, ensuring you were tucked in and comfortable.

"What can we do to make sure she doesn't help him?" Damon asked, leaning on the doorway, unable to come closer to you. The sight of you like this broke his heart. "she's been completely brainwashed by the guy,"

"She loves him Damon," Elena said softly, walking over to him, laying her hand on his arm.

"Don't say that," he groaned, covering his face. "That makes it worse. She has to get over it."

"I don't think it works that way," Elena said gently, squeezing his arm.

"We have to keep her away from him," Damon explained, his hands dropping, he was looking at Elena now. "It's too risky."

"That will be impossible," Stefan said, shaking his head, "she's more stubborn than you, she won't give up until she has her way."

"So what do we do?" Elena asked, glancing between them.

"The only way I can think of is to keep her sedated, until I find a way to kill him for good," Damon said, his tone matter-of-fact.

"No, Damon.. that's not right," Elena protested, looking to Stefan to back her up.

Stefan couldn't meet her gaze, instead he turned away, "We don't have any other options."

"So we are just going to knock her out? That's cruel!" Elena said, feeling very disappointed.

"Got any better ideas?" Damon snapped, kneeling down in front of you. He placed his hand on your forehead, "I can't let her wake him up, he will kill us all,"

Elena sighed, shaking her head.

"She will hate us for doing this," Stefan said, not liking the idea one bit, but it was the best they had.

"Yeah, well, I can handle that," Damon shrugged, and picked you up in his arms.

He carried you to your room, gently placing you on the bed, pulling the covers up over your body. He sat next to you, tucking your hair behind your ears.

"You'll understand, eventually," He said softly, stroking your hair, before standing up and leaving the room, shutting the door quietly.

You were trapped in some sort of nightmare, everything around you was completely dark. You couldn't even see your hand in front of your face. You had no idea where you were, what was up or what was down.

You were calling out for help, your voice echoing back to you, but no one else was there.

Suddenly, you felt a presence beside you, it was warm, familiar and safe. You were drawn to it and you reached out, trying to find the source of it.

You heard the sound of a man laughing, it was a wild, maniacal laugh.

You started running, your feet hitting the ground hard, you couldn't breathe, but you didn't stop. The laughter kept coming, getting louder and louder.

Then the sound of a woman screaming nearly knocked you off your feet, but you kept going until you ran into something solid.

It was the edge of a coffin, made of wood etched with an ornate symbol on the top, a crest of some sort. Your fingers traced over it, feeling the deep grooves. It was the letter 'M', carved into a shield.

Finally, your hands found the lid, and you pushed, straining to open it. What was inside was three rings of fire, you could feel the heat on your face, the smoke making it hard to breathe.

The rings were getting closer, or you were falling into them, you couldn't tell. The screams became deafening. You were overwhelmed with intense anxiety, unable to move as you stared into the flames.

Then everything stopped.

And you woke up.

{Part One} {Part Two}{Part Three}{Part Five}

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whump-in-the-closet · 2 years ago

Text

7. What's Wrong?

previous.

cw: injury description with blood, bad caretaker (kind of), implied past torture

“Valian, sit down. You can’t handle the Council in your current state.”

Valian doesn’t move from where they’re standing, swaying on their feet. “But–”

“Please, no more of the Council.” You do not want to think of the Council, or the Council’s unearthly agents. You think you might be sick if you do. You’d rather do anything than discuss the Council.

One of Valian’s bandages slips off their arm, already blood-stained.

“I thought you said you could apply bandages,” you say.

Something like frustration edges Valian’s words. “It’s hard with only one hand!” It’s the first time they’ve spoken without fear. They slump against the wall.

When you rest a hand on their shoulder, they flinch, and when you lead them past the open fire, they flinch again, but they sink to the cot without a word.

“Will you let me help?”

Valian swallows hard, the momentary frustration gone as quickly as it had appeared. They nod.

Working quickly, you try not to think of how the bandages are already bloodied. Or how the injuries range from scratches to thin lacerations– deep and bruised. Or how they spread up Valian’s arm, twisted together in a pattern that resembles spiderwebs.

You try not to think of the scars you have, healed in the same spiderweb pattern.

You try not to think at all.

Valian keeps their eyes on the opposite wall. They don’t talk and neither do you. When you finish cleaning and bandaging their arm, they pull it close to their chest, doubling over.

This frightens you. Did you do something wrong? Did you hurt them by accident? Did you– “Are you alright? Valian, what did I do?”

“Nothing.” Their voice shakes. “Nothing.”

“You’re crying.” You realise it as you say it.

Valian looks up, vision blurring. “I wasn’t expecting help. I– I truly wasn’t expecting this. You rightfully despise me, I am bringing your old enemies to your doorstep, and I am in no way able to help– I can’t pay you for your kindness–” they break off, doubling over again.

You pull back, unsure of how to respond. Only minutes ago, you had regretted ever bringing them here, but now you’re at a loss. You aren’t sympathising with Valian, you aren’t. You are not. You simply will not throw them out of your cabin. That isn’t kindness— it's not. You don't know what it is but it's not kindness.

It's not. You aren't kind.

The Council made sure of that. They took every good part of you and twisted it until there was nothing left but a screaming void.

Like they did to Valian. You think that's what they did.

Stop thinking.

You aren't kind.

tagging: @kira-the-whump-enthusiast, @d-cs, @annablogsposts, @sorrowful-hyacinth (lmk if you want to be added or removed!)

#helect cyoa #interactive whump #fantasy whump #whump cyoa #whump writing #i really need to update this more than once a week #sorry this takes so long guys

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sotangledupinit · 3 years ago

Text

free fallin’

annnnd here’s my second fic for @cssns! it’s a rework of a fic i did for cs halloweek 2021 so i hope you like my changes and are ready for another multi-chapter fic! :D

---

SUMMARY: On a dark and stormy Halloween night 27 years ago, five people stepped onto an elevator. They never stepped off. Now 28, Emma Swan and her son Henry work together to discover what caused her parents and the other inhabitants to suddenly disappear. //rewrite of previous work, expanded to a multi-chapter.

RATING: T for teen, though there’s some graphic descriptions of horror elements in the first chapter.

WORD COUNT: 7084 words

TAGS: Tower of Terror AU, Captain Swan, CSSNS 22

AO3

AUTHOR’S NOTE: hi! some of this may seem familiar to you if you read my original story for CS Halloweek 2021, but i've changed some things, added stuff, and reworked it better to be a multi-chapter fic. so yay! based on the theme park attraction Tower of Terror at Walt Disney World as well as the 1997 film starring Kirsten Dunst of the same name (and inspired by the same attraction).

***

“Are you absolutely certain you’re okay with this?” David asks one more time. He stands besides Mary Margaret, each of them slowly shrugging their coats on as their eyes stare at their daughter as if memorizing her every feature.

“Yes, we can always bring Emma with us so you can enjoy the party too!” Mary Margaret agrees, hands reaching out towards her baby girl.

Granny Lucas shakes her head, adjusting the baby on her hip. A single woman since her early twenties, Granny’s exteriors are rough and stern. She’s had to put up with more malarky than is right but it molded her to be fierce and stand her ground. Once she glares in their direction, David and Mary Margaret know they’ve lost their fight. “Absolutely not,” she says. “When was the last time the two of you had a date night? Emma’s just turned one – you two need some time alone. As a couple.”

David sighs, buttoning up his coat. “I have my pager on me. Beep me and I’ll call right away.” He takes Mary Margaret’s red scarf from their coat rack and wraps it around his wife’s neck.

“And I’ll have my cell phone in my purse. I also left the numbers for the hotel and the party on the refrigerator.” She rushes over to Granny and presses a featherlight kiss to her daughter’s forehead, smiling softly. “I love you, Emma.”

She feels David approach behind her and he places one hand on her back and the other cradle’s Emma’s head. “We really don’t mind bringing –”

“Go.” Granny’s exasperation pours through her voice. Her feet bring her to the front door of the apartment the couple lives in. Opening it brings in the chilly October air that hung in the hallway of the building. “I have Emma handled. I did raise three children and a granddaughter all by myself. Emma’s a breeze.” The couple looks at each other, still hesitant as they stand in their threshold. “Regina’s going to be mad if you’re late to her party.”

They kiss their daughter goodbye once more, giving themselves the extra second to cherish the moment, and then thank Granny before leaving.

Regina sighs as she stands at the reception desk of the lobby. The man behind the counter – Liam, his nametag says – is on the phone with the hotel’s house band. The one she booked months in advance for the Halloween party didn’t find it worth their effort to show up. Taking a sip of her champagne, her red lipstick leaves a mark on her glass and she figures she can get a refill once she gets back upstairs, barring no further problems.

Full moons brought out the crazies, and, she surmised, bad luck.

A light drizzle painted the street just beyond the hotel’s front doors, lights from the Hollywood Hills in the distance looking brighter.

When she became mayor of Storybrooke, it was a rundown ghost town just outside of Los Angeles. Half the shops on main street were closed down and the neighborhoods housed more foreclosures than people. She worked hard to make it the perfect picture of suburbia it is today, with a multitude of locally owned stores and restaurants, excellent schools, and safe, well-run neighborhoods.

Election year is next year and she’s already decided not to run. Nearly thirty years as mayor, yet nothing notable in her personal life.

Well, there always is Mary Margaret and her child. The thought makes her snort into her glass and she searches for a napkin to wipe her chin with. How sad is that thought?

Humidity warms the cool October night making the skin on her arms sticky. She pats at herself and waits for the phone call to end.

“Mayor Mills,” the accented man says. Liam’s dark curls are gelled to styled perfection and as cleanly done as his pressed uniform. She knows from her dealings with Brennan Jones – the years of board meetings and permit approvals and plans being run by her desk for the Hollywood Tower Hotel – that he’s grooming his eldest to take over. Brennan has never been the noblest man to sit with, always looking with one eye to seem sincere but glancing away with his other to check no one can see his crossed fingers behind his back. “The house band is already setting up in the Tip Top Club. If you have any other concerns, please let me know.”

He holds his hand out to shake but Regina turns away instead.

She leaves her empty glass at the counter and makes her way to the bathroom to freshen up. Hair tickles her cheeks and she can already tell the humidity is ruining her carefully crafted look. It’s going to be a dreadfully long night.

Liam waits until Mayor Mills exits the lobby before heading back to the staff lounge. He leaves the front desk in the trusted hands of his assistant manager Starkey and goes in search of peace and quiet for five minutes.

Things have been weird at the hotel since just before the party goers arrived. The storm outside is beginning to pick up and he groans as yet another hallway light flickers. The toilets in the upper floors began to flush by themselves and the card readers for the rooms on the front side of the building stopped working, all by six o’clock. Maintenance isn’t the issue, he reasons. He oversees the building’s maintenance and does what he can with what little leash his father gives him. Where all the issues came from is a mystery to him.

Something isn’t right, something… not natural.

His hand grips the knob of the staff lounge only to find it locked. Groaning, he knocks heavily on the door. “Killian!” he practically hollers. “I need you to open up!”

The dark wood door swings open and Killian stands in its threshold, shirt unbuttoned and tie hanging loose around his neck. It’s unfair that his little brother is a hair taller than him. He recalls when Killian used to ask him to reach up for something on the top shelf or looked to him for protection. For their father being around nearly their entire lives, his presence was consistently absent.

“The door wasn’t locked, brother,” Killian says. Liam ignores the lie on his brother’s lips as the younger Jones steps back to allow him in.

“There’s an issue with the band Mayor Mills hired. The house band is filling in but…”

Killian sighs as he realizes where Liam’s train of thought is going. “But Whale is nowhere to be seen and you need me to fill in?”

“You’re wonderful, little brother. Brilliant, truly.”

“Bloody hell, Liam. I’m 30 and I’m taller than you. I’m younger, but most definitely not little.”

“Now, now. Let’s not turn this into a measuring contest,” Liam chastises, though his amusement cracks his stern exterior. “I do appreciate you giving up your night off.”

“Well,” Killian says with a sigh, rebuttoning his shirt, fixing his tie, and heaving up his guitar case from the corner of the room. “Enjoy this while you can because soon I’ll be on the ocean where you can’t pester me to fill in. By the way, I expect overtime for tonight.”

“Regina!” Mary Margaret calls out. They’ve dropped their scarves and coats at the desk, David’s black suit looking straight out of a catalog and perfect for his Bruce Wayne outfit, her dark blue gown swirling around her ankles creating an elegant Snow White look. She prances over to her stepmother like a fairytale princess in the Disney cartoons and Regina only barely manages to hold in her disgust at the display.

“Well it’s about time you showed up,” she says to the couple. Her eyes dart to David and she teases, “Even your brother arrived on time. Clearly he’s the better twin.”

“You invited my brother?” David groans as they walk together to the elevator.

“You can thank your lovely wife,” Regina says. She rolls her eyes when she sees Liam and another hotel worker waiting at the elevators too.

Mary Margaret fidgets next to her husband, apologetic. Ask forgiveness instead of permission. Regina can’t say she disagrees with that line of thinking. “No one should be alone on a holiday. Especially family.”

“It’s Halloween,” Regina deadpans. The ding of the arriving elevator sounds, putting a stop to the conversation. Liam holds his employee back and lets them board first. The employee holds a large guitar case and, glancing at the eyeliner rimming his eyes and the rings on his fingers, she groans. He better not be part of the band.

“Really,” David whispers to his wife as he enters after Regina and Mary Margaret. “You invited James?!”

“He’s your family,” she hisses back, pasting a pleasant smile on her face as a way of greeting the employees. Moments before the elevator doors close, she spots James coming from the back of the lobby and heading towards the stairs, waving in his direction while David grunts. His brother merely smirks and raises his glass, the metal doors starting to slide close. It’s the most perfect look for anyone dressed as Two-Face.

It really is a toss-up, which brother grates on Regina’s nerves more. Only slightly less holier-than-thou than her stepdaughter, David has the whole shtick down. Animal rescue, helps old ladies cross the street, probably picks up garbage from the gutter.

Ugh, he’s so good it makes her sick.

His twin, on the other hand, couldn’t be more opposite. Poor Ruth Nolan would probably be run into an early grave if she was only raising James. The man is a hellion, is known for collecting paramours, and has an angry streak to make anyone flinch.

Despite her earlier jest, she’d prefer to deal with David any day of the week over his brother. James can take his smirk and glass of liquor and go to hell.

Regina only just barely held back a snarl, making sure it’s the last thing James sees before the doors finally slide shut.

“Mayor Mills,” Liam nods, pressing the button for the Tip Top Club. The elevator begins its ascent with a light jerk. He gives her a nervous glance she pointedly ignores. Clearly Brennan Jones put no investment into his hotel’s transportation if the elevators were still as slow and jerky as when the building originally opened, nearly 90 years before his purchase. “This is my younger brother, Killian. He’s incredibly talented and he’ll be the guitarist of our house band tonight.”

Lovely.

Soft sounds of the music playing from a boombox at the party waft through the elevator shaft as their car quickly approaches its final stop. It's some pop hit that she finds more horrible than Mary Margaret’s hope speeches before election night. Nothing like what her father played growing up in Puerto Rico before moving to Storybrooke.

She opens her mouth to question his decision in bringing aboard his brother, a downright unkempt scoundrel by the looks of it and in no form for the classy Halloween party she’s hosting, but right as the elevator is about to reach the Tip Top Club, their car jerks to a stop.

“What’s happening?” Mary Margaret asks. David rests a comforting hand on her back and Liam looks to his brother before turning to face the elevator panel next to the door.

Finger just inches away, a purple electric shock shoots out of the panel and gets Liam. Killian is quick to jerk him back and the second he does, the lights go out.

Darkness envelops them, their breaths caught in their throat as no one says a word. The emergency lights lining the ceiling are useless as they refuse to turn on. It’s only when there’s a flicker, just the smallest bit with a tint of purple to its glow, that the elevator lurches then drops into a free fall.

Screams erupt in the elevator car. Regina sees the couple next to her in each other’s arms and the brothers on the other side clinging to the rails of the car. Her stomach is in her throat and her hair rises as her body falls. The last thing she sees before their elevator crashes is a flash of purple light.

27 years later…

Emma stares at her son, her eyebrow raised and lips pressed into a thin line, waiting for his answer.

Henry only grins back at her, a small gap between his front teeth.

“Your teacher… who I grew up with… assigned you to write a story about the Hollywood Tower Hotel?”

He fidgets in his seat and her eyes narrow. In turn, he becomes stock still with his gaze wide-eyed. He even refuses to breathe. Got him.

“Okay, so Miss French didn’t actually assign me the Hollywood Tower Hotel. I chose it.”

Emma stares at him in disbelief. “…Why?”

Their history with the infamous hotel is well known around the Los Angeles area but most especially in Storybrooke, where nearly all of its inhabitants knew her parents. It’s part of why she ran away from her Uncle James when she was sixteen. And part of why she hesitated greatly when contemplating moving back almost a year ago.

Grandma Ruth had been too distraught by losing her son that she wasn’t fit to take in Emma when she was a baby. Despite Granny’s attempts to take care of her, she wasn’t blood so Uncle James took her in. Though, he was far from a parent. No rules, little guidance, and an absence of fatherly love meant Emma became self-sufficient before she was ten. It hurts now, to look at her son at the same age and know that she was practically living on her own. Uncle James was more a body that took up space in the living room and who signed school papers until she was able to forge his signature convincingly.

School was another thing entirely.

If there is one thing to be guaranteed, it was that when kids saw an easy target, they pounced, eliciting a thrill from goading their full childhoods and families over her head. She’d been called a freak and a loser but the taunts that hurt the most were the ones calling her unlovable and an orphan.

Those ones were true.

At first she tried to combat the bullies by telling her teachers. That gave the incidents more fanfare and opened her up to even more bullying outside school grounds. So in fourth grade, she taught herself how to throw a punch.

The only bullies who bothered her after that were the ones brave enough to say something to her face. Somehow, the whispers that started up behind her back afterwards hurt more.

“We had to pick a moment in history and create a story from it so why not one about our family?” He shrugs his shoulders, leaving Emma dumbfounded. She forgets her son hasn’t been affected the same way she has, that the fated night doesn’t haunt his every quiet moment like it does hers.

The happenings at the Hollywood Tower Hotel on Halloween night 27 years ago have become the stuff of legends. More than one amateur sleuth has traveled far to see the hotel up close and solve the mystery of how the two elevator shafts protruding from the front of the building suddenly disappeared that night, taking five people along with them.

Ghosts, curses, aliens – you name it, every few months someone shows up claiming to know the truth of what happened but none have been proven real. Moving out of Storybrooke didn’t allow her an escape from the shadow that encased her life. She’s been dodging requests from reporters to talk about the event for her entire life. They hunted her down in Storybrooke before she left, when she was still just a kid, and then followed her to Tallehasse and Phoenix and Boston and everywhere in between. Every once and a while, a brother of one of the occupants will pop up and ask for anyone who knows the truth to come forward with information, but it all leads to dead ends.

Honestly, the whole thing feels like an episode straight out of the Twilight Zone.

“Henry,” she begins, mind searching for the right words to say. “I don’t know if this is a good idea…”

Her son gets up from his chair and comes to stand beside hers, face set in determination. “Maybe we can solve this mystery together.”

Let it be known that Emma will do anything for her kid. Even if it means standing outside of the hotel her parents disappeared from so Henry can get a vibe of the place for his writing assignment.

“I know you and Grace have snuck out of her house and come here before,” she says as she leans against the cement fencing that lines the property. A wide wrought iron gate sits at the entrance, kept closed with a rusted chain and lock. The plants around the property are overgrown and she sees weeds popping out from cracks in the cement. She thinks the original owner died some years ago but can’t be certain. If it’s not news about her parents, she looks the other way.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he evades. Standing on the tips of his toes, he tries to see beyond a particularly wild bush at the edge of the driveway just beyond the gate. His brow furrows when he doesn’t find what he expects.

A breeze blows through the trees and down the driveway, leaving Emma with a chill. Her son seems unaffected and a part of her wonders if it’s her mind getting to her.

People who have snuck onto the property or inspected it to solve the mystery swear the hotel is haunted. They share stories of unexplainable events taking place on the deserted property and supernatural occurrences, both of which make Emma snort. Things like ghosts and magic and vampires – ugh, that theory in particular, one where the inhabitants of the elevator became vampires and turned the hotel into their private bat cave, grinds her gears – are not real.

“Do you have everything you need?” she asks, shifting from foot to foot, eyes refusing to look at the hotel any longer.

Henry bites his lip as he looks up at her. “Can you tell me again what happened that night?”

She sighs. It’s not a story she likes repeating, especially since most of it is secondhand information. “Mayor Mills was throwing a Halloween Ball in the Tip Top Club. My parents, Mayor Mills, and two other people boarded an elevator to go to the club. There was a storm, the entire city lost electricity, and when the lights came back on a minute later, the elevator shafts disappeared, leaving no trace of anyone who was inside.”

“You know,” a young voice says behind her. She turns quickly, surprised to see a guy, not much older than 18, behind her with keys in his hands. He has sharp blue eyes and his brown hair is parted down the middle, the ends brushing his ears. A thin frame, his Hollywood Tower Hotel blazer hangs large on him. He gives her a nervous smile, “A lot of people claimed my papa cut corners getting the hotel fixed, that things weren’t working correctly and there were wiring issues. Which, I guess could be true, but that doesn’t explain the elevators disappearing and no debris.”

“You’re the owner’s son,” Emma guesses. She crosses her arms, eyeing him warily.

“I am.” He directs his attention to Henry who is watching the man in awe. “See the scorch marks on the outside of the building there?” His finger points to the front façade, burn marks in two identical vertical lines permanently staining the building. “That’s the only evidence left of that night.”

“Wow,” Henry says. Running back to the gate, his face pushes between the spaces and he fixes his gaze on the marks.

Emma eyes the newcomer, stepping into his eyeline so he can’t see her son. “Unless you’ve got an issue with us standing on the street, we’re good here. I don’t need you to put ideas in my kid’s head.”

The young man looks confused, mouth opening and closing as he tries to figure out what to say. “But you – you emailed me?”

Shaking her head, she immediately responds, “No I didn’t.”

Henry jumps away from the gate with a grin. He stands beside Emma and looks up at the man. “That’s because I did! Liam Jones, right? This is my mom. She’s Emma Nolan.”

Liam nods, his cheeks red, and says, “I actually go by LJ, not Liam.” Emma raises her eyebrow at this. He gestures to the building and shrugs, sighing, “I was born about seven years after that night, named after one of my brothers who disappeared then. But it’s weird, right? I kind of felt like my papa was trying to replace him with me.”

She swallows, nodding her head. “I’m sorry.”

LJ waves off her apologies and approaches the gate, flicking through the keys. “So you wanted a tour?”

“Yes!”

“No!”

Emma and Henry turn to face each other. She glares as much as she can at her son but he has his eyes wide, his hands clasped together, and – crap – he just stuck out the bottom lip.

The chains rattle as LJ removes them from the gate, Henry hot on his heels with every move.

“So you still own the hotel?” he asks him, pointing at the embroidered jacket he wears.

LJ nods. Creaking from lack of use, the gates open to the winding drive up the hill to the front doors of the Hollywood Tower Hotel. Sunlight beams through the breaks in the overgrowth and for a moment, Emma understands all the hype about the place in its heyday. There’s a peace that settles over her shoulders, like she’s in a long-lost private garden, and she takes a deep breath in.

Reality crashes down as LJ starts talking again, leading Henry up the drive with Emma following behind.

“Papa closed it for the investigation to see what happened to my brothers. It took years. Police investigated him and the property for faulty construction issues. Some people thought he demolished the two elevator shafts in order to expand, but there was no debris so that was ruled out. He was so broken up by everything – the disappearance, the investigation – that he vowed the hotel should not be opened again until the mystery of what happened that night is solved or my brothers are found.”

Emma trips on one particular crack in the driveway and the gravel breaks under her foot. “How can you afford to pay taxes and… maintenance?” A quick look around makes her wonder if any maintenance has actually been done, but the front of the hotel appears before her eyes and she gasps softly.

It’s one thing to see the glitz and the glam of a luxury hotel in photos but it’s another to see it in real life. A covered walkway with arches leads up to the front doors, mosaic tile covering the floors of the outside. The chairs on the patio on either side of the doors offer an unobstructed view of the Hollywood Hills with the Hollywood sign looking picturesque. She bets the backside of the hotel offers remarkable views of the Santa Monica Bay.

“Papa made a trust to pay for the upkeep. Plus I’m in school for mechanics and learning some building maintenance as I study. Things are a little dusty, but the lights still work. I can give you a tour,” LJ offers and Emma shakes her head.

“Oh no,” she starts. Her hands go out to grasp Henry by the shoulders before he can move inside and she shakes her head. “We are going to stay right out here.”

Henry eyes her suspiciously. “Why can’t we go in? Are you scared of ghosts?”

Emma represses the shudder that goes through her body at glancing up and seeing the empty lobby in front of her. The thought of being in the same place as her parents last were before they disappeared leaves an unsettling feeling in her stomach.

“I’m not scared,” she says to Henry. “Let’s just walk around the outside, okay? I bet there’s spiders in there.” She only feels a little bit bad when Henry shakes his whole body and sticks by her side, but sometimes she has to do what’s needed.

LJ leads them around the hotel, pointing out little details in the railings or on the tiles. She tunes most of it out, knowing her son is sucking it all up like the curious sponge he is. Instead, her breath is taken by the view of the water from the back porch, drawing her from the group.

The water glistens, far enough away that she can’t hear the waves but the sight still leaves her stunned.

“Awesome, isn’t it?” LJ says with a grin a few moments later. She nods, stepping closer to the railing and lets the sight roll over her shoulders in calming waves. What it must have been like, to be a guest here when everything was grand and to have this room from the hotel room. Incredible.

When she turns around though, LJ is just a few feet behind her but Henry is nowhere to be found.

“Henry?” she calls out. LJ follows suit, both of them looking for her son but he doesn’t appear at her voice. Her heart starts pounding and she wonders if the same thing that caused her parents to disappear so long ago just did the same to her son.

Curtains billowing in the wind catch her eye and Emma frantically makes her way over. The door to the hotel is slightly ajar, the cool breeze sweeping off the porch and into the back seating area leading to a number of hallways. She cautiously steps through, looking behind her to check with LJ, before fully entering.

Dust and cobwebs cover the furniture. Books are strewn on coffee tables, bags and suitcases are still piled on the luggage carts, and flowers long dead remain in the vases. “I thought you did routine maintenance?” she questions with a raised eyebrow, unamused.

LJ’s bashful look is accompanied by a scratch at his jawline. “It’s more wiring and keeping up with the electrical and pipes than cleaning…”

She hums, rolling her eyes and continues calling her son’s name. The front lobby is in much of the same state as the back and she looks for indents in the dust or a sign that something’s been moved. A glass on the reception desk glints from the sunlight beaming through the tall windows above the front doors and she can still make out the dark red lipstick staining the rim.

Glancing behind the check-in desk proves to be a waste with still no sign of Henry and her heart rate ticks up again. A chill is settling in her bones the longer she’s in the lobby and she studiously avoids the elevator shafts in the middle of the floor.

“Mom?” Henry calls out, voice scared and wobbly.

“Henry?!” Emma replies, pushing herself away from the counter and rushing around the corner. She hears music, like a boombox playing in another room, but when she runs through the tall white doors in the hall, she enters an empty ballroom and sees no boombox, no radio, not even a band. She calls her son’s name again but hears no response.

She feels the sensation of a breath along the back of her neck before she hears the voice in her ear.

“Welcome to the Hollywood Tower Hotel,” a deep voice says from behind her. Emma jumps in sudden fright and lets out a quick scream before her fight instincts kick in. In an instant, she reaches for one of the centerpieces on a nearby table, a heavy glass vase filled with flowers that have been long dead. She readies her arm as she turns around but there’s no one behind her when she looks. No door is swinging and no footsteps echo in the space.

The tension that coiled in her back keeps her body rimrod straight and straining. She eyes the empty ballroom and struggles to keep the quick succession of her breaths quiet. Though she desperately wants to call for her son, she worries any sudden noise could send danger in his direction. A chill runs down her arms to her fingertips and she tightens her grip on the vase.

A table cloth just a few paces over flutters in an imaginary wind and Emma feels the presence first. Pivoting, she immediately spots a handsome man standing in the middle of the ballroom, dressed in an impeccable bellhop’s uniform, the deep red complimenting his light skin and dark hair. He smirks at her, not afraid to show his enjoyment in the cat and mouse game he’s started, and he stands up straighter, arms behind his back.

She swallows hard at the image, a far cry from what the man – one of the Jones’ – looked like in photographs, vase still held high, as unease settles in her stomach. A wicked glint enters the man’s eye right as she opens her mouth to question him, but his words bet her to it.

“Checking in?” he asks, the devil on his lips and staining his words, smirk widening as he pulls a butcher’s knife dripping with blood from behind his back.

Holding back a scream, Emma tosses the vase with all her might.

Only for it to land right at his feet.

He clicks his tongue, chastising. “That hurts, love.”

The man, sin draped in red, starts a slow approach towards her and she immediately puts a table between them. Demands for Henry’s whereabouts rest on the tip of her tongue and she steels herself to face the man down when she hears her name echo from the hallway. The man’s brow furrows as his attention is momentarily taken by Henry’s yell and she uses it to her advantage.

With all her might, she pushes the table forward and straight towards the man. She doesn’t wait to see the impact, instead immediately turning on her heel and rushing out the white doors, leaving a cacophony of crashes in her wake.

Emma runs through the hallways, yelling out Henry’s name in quick intervals, her voice frantic and on the verge of becoming hoarse. He calls back to her, more frightened than she’s ever heard before, and she nearly barrels through the wall as she rushes into the kitchen.

“Henry!” she cries in relief, rushing over to hug him and falling to her knees in the process. He stands still in shock as she wraps her arms around him. Relief floods her system and she kisses his cheeks, murmuring how she’s happy she’s found him but that they have to leave. Except he doesn’t move. “Henry?” She pulls away from her embrace and examines his face, pale and sweaty. His breathing is as quick as hers and his eyes seem fixed on a point beyond her shoulder.

Standing up straight and turning to face whatever has her son in a trace, Emma immediately knows why.

Sunshine filters through two windows on the far wall of the kitchen as if putting a spotlight on the long stainless steel rolling table in the middle of the room. A lone figure lays on it, white sheet covering their body with one arm hanging loose. An uneaten apple rests precariously in the figure’s hand, blood dripping from the fruit onto the figure’s fingertips and down to a growing puddle on the floor.

“Let’s get out of here, kid.” Despite speaking in a whisper, it’s as if her words shatter the delicate calm over the room for not a moment passes before the figure sits up straight without effort. Emma and Henry scream in terror, jumping back but unable to tear their eyes from the sight before them despite her efforts to push her kid behind her.

Emma knows that figure.

Dressed in a dark gown with a matching black corset situated on top, the tall collar of the dress nearly reaches the figure’s ears. The vibrant red lipstick, their trademark, makes this figure – this Evil Queen – unmistakeable.

She’s studied the photos of the disappeared enough to recognize Regina Mills when she sees her, be it through photographs or in this… projection of sorts. The last photo of the former mayor of Storybrooke had been by Sydney Glass for the newspaper and it was taken right here, in the kitchens of the Hollywood Tower Hotel.

Emma knows the photo well. It was a posed shot, the mayor’s perfectly poised persona coming through in every shot as if being photographed by Vogue instead of the Storybrooke Mirror. The kitchen photo was of Regina leaning over an apple bite, a sampling on a fork hovering in the air on its way to her mouth. The piece in the newspaper was supposed to be about how Regina made her own desserts for the charity Halloween ball, her famous apple pie chief among them. The perfect kind of writeup for someone preparing to run again.

This Regina feels like a completely different person from the one she imagined through the photos. This one has a wicked grin and a narrowed gaze, portraying the perfect villain for a storybook tale.

Her voice runs like a smooth velvet down their spines as she inquires, “Won’t you stay for a bite?”

The wicked grin transforms into a sickly-sweet smile on her lips and Regina lifts her arm, long fingernails painted a shiny black adorning her blood-stained fingers and brings the dripping apple to her lips. She tilts her head at Emma and Henry who stare at her in shock and takes a large chunk out of it. In an instant, both Regina and the apple sizzle.

The apple rots before their eyes, turning as black as Regina’s nails, melting into her hand and sliding in large wet chucks to the floor. The former mayor is next, her skin drooping, cheek growing flaccid until it drops as low as her chin before falling to the metal table, revealing muscle and bone in its wake. Those too begin to droop and melt like the apple had, the sizzling noise growing louder as more of Regina disappears into a puddle.

Her smile, the sickly-sweet one that turns Emma’s stomach, remains on the mayor’s face despite their screams of terror and despite her body literally melting away before her.

Emma and Henry don’t stay long enough to watch the puddle that was Regina drip to the floor.

Her son’s tiny hand clasped in her own, Emma leads the two of them back to the lobby and the only exit she knows. Their lungs burn with fright and fatigue. They only come to a stop once they reach the lobby, their pants filling the silence as they take in the scene before them.

Leaning as far back in his chair as possible is LJ. Absolute terror colors his features and he shakes his head frantically as a womanly figure dances under an isolated cloud in what looks to be acid rain. The water’s green glow shines through the lobby and when she spins, a few raindrops leave her circle and land on the armrest of LJ’s chair, hissing as it burns through to the ground. He pulls his legs up to his chest to make himself as small as possible.

A second figure approaches LJ, a tall gentleman in a tailored suit and perfectly styled blonde hair. His attention is fixated on LJ and when he reaches a hand towards his own head, Emma turns Henry’s shoulders and presses his face against her stomach in anticipation of what’s to come. She’s glad she followed her gut as the moment Henry’s vision is no longer of the scene in front of her, the gentleman pulls his head from his shoulders dropping his hand to his side as the head in its grip continues talking some nonsense about enjoying their stay.

Emma merely gasps out a shuddered breath, feeling like she barely has any air in her lungs left so she can scream.

Oh no, she thinks, that’s my parents.

“A tad dramatic, isn’t it?” an accented voice drawls behind her. She cautiously turns her head in its direction as she holds Henry tighter in her arms. The man from the ballroom stands by the check-in desk looking bored and not as devious as he’d been a few minutes ago. “I prefer the subtle scare,” he continues, lifting his bloodied knife from beneath the desk. Her eyes widen as her breathing staggers again.

Even if she didn’t study their photos so much growing up, she’d know from the captivating blue eyes that this was LJ’s brother. Killian Jones.

There’s been plenty of information about most of the people in the elevator that night. Regina had been mayor for as long as anyone could remember, her parents were staples in the community for their jobs and their volunteer work, and Liam Jones was the eldest of Brennan Jones’ two sons, poised to take over the hotel once their father retired. He’d met with vendors and local residents to ensure smooth relationships, and he captained the many events the hotel entered. His younger brother Killian was a mystery though.

She had nothing to go off of when it came to him, making him the most terrifying of everything she’s seen tonight.

Liam Jones walks out from one of the employee back rooms decked out in his fully Hollywood Tower Hotel uniform and shakes his head at Killian. “Be honest with the lass, little brother. You’re just mad those two have finally upstaged you.”

The elder of the two plucks the knife from Killian’s lax grip and holds it up for inspection. Emma feels the moment Liam’s eyes peer at her just over the bloodied metal.

He points the knife at her. “This yours?”

Emma doesn’t know if he’s asking after the ownership of the knife or its blood but she’s had enough. Adrenaline is leaving her body at a fast pace and she will not allow her son to be trapped inside this god forsaken place.

It’s been years since she’s picked up Henry in her arms but she does so in an instant with a strength she didn’t know she possessed. His body is wrecked with tremors and he clutches tighty to her shirt, his legs wrapping around her waist without hesitation as he buries his face into her neck. She cradles him to her chest as she rushes back out to the patio, around the hotel, and to the driveway, only glancing back at LJ once to see him scrambling from his seat and rushing after them.

The Hollywood Tower Hotel glooms over them from the sidewalk like a proud enemy declaring victory. It makes her sick.

“What the hell was that?!” Emma yells the moment she regains enough breath to do so. Her side is in stitches and her fingers shake uncontrollably. She can’t help but bend at her waist as she takes in her son. Tears have stopped rolling down Henry’s cheeks, the drying tracks the only sign of his fear, and he stares up at the hotel in deep thought.

He’s going to need so much therapy after this.

“How could you let him go in there?!” she continues, glaring at LJ. He leans back against the cement fencing, sweaty and pale with wide eyes.

“I-I didn’t know it was haunted!”

“It’s your hotel! You do the maintenance!”

“Yeah, I can do it all from the outside!” LJ shrieks. “I’ve never been brave enough to go in before!”

The admittance sits on her chest like a heavy weight. All three of them entered the situation in the dark, no knowledge of what to expect. If Emma knew what horrors laid on the other side of the gate, she would have hauled Henry back to his room immediately.

For the rumors and paranormal investigators that followed her for her entire life, she guesses they weren’t wrong.

So maybe the Hollywood Tower Hotel is haunted. And not by any regular ghosts but by her parents and the others in the elevator.

“We have to go back in and help them!”

She looks away from LJ to stare at her son incredulously. “What are you talking about?!”

Henry seems to be taking things in stride as he presses his face through the gate again, eyes fixated on the hotel. “We have to help the ghosts.”

“I think they’re beyond wanting help, kid,” Emma says. She straightens up slowly and with a wince, the pull in her side from carrying Henry down the hilly drive becoming more prominent. “They literally just scared us out of the building. Or tried to kill us, take your pick.”

A frustrated sigh leaves his lips and Emma already feels her resolve waning. Ghosts are not real. This is not real. None of this can be happening. It all sounded so crazy.

She closes her eyes and pinches her arm long and hard, hoping that when she opens her eyes, she’ll wake in her bed. When she opens her eyes, she’s agitated to see herself still outside the hotel.

“Come on, you heard all the stories about Grandma and Grandpa!” Henry explains. “They wouldn’t act like that! Maybe something bad is keeping them there and they’re trying to stop anyone else from being stuck.”

LJ is still as white as, well, a ghost. He eyes the two of them wearily and shakes his head. “Be my guest,” he says, tossing his arm towards the hotel, “but I am not going back in there.”

“Henry,” Emma starts gently. “We don’t know them. Maybe they were like that and played cruel jokes on people when they were alive.” His lip wobbles at her words and she does her best to steel herself. She doesn’t think she can face her parents again either, not if they’re bitter ghosts who live to frighten the daylights out of anyone they see. “They scared us. I don’t want to help them.”

Henry shakes his head, turning away from Emma to gaze up at the building through the fencing. “Maybe they’re just scared too.”

#captain swan #cssns 2022 #cssns22 #captain swan supernatural summer #my fics #temporarystatus #tower of terror #tower of terror au

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whimsicallyenchantedrose · 1 year ago

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Season 3 Rewatch Drabbles: 3x22 There's No Place Like Home (Part 4)

Summary: A series of 100-500 word drabbles to accompany my rewatch of season 3 of Once Upon a Time. There will be a drabble–either a deleted scene, a “fix it” fic or a character musing for each episode of the season. Focus will be on Emma, Henry, the Charmings and Killian–with an emphasis on Captain Swan’s epic love story.

Word Count: 528

Tagging a few people who may be interested (Let me know if you want to be added or taken off the list): @sailormew4 @annaamell @flslp87 @emmateo26 @bethacaciakay

@ultraluckycatnd @effulgent-mind @ilovemesomekillianjones @brooke-to-broch

@missgymgirl @galadriel26 @the-lady-of-misthaven @charmingturkeysandwich

@jennjenn615 @laschatzi @kimmy46 @snowbellewells @iamanneenigma

@daxx04 @nickillian @gillie @britishguyslover @ginnyjinxedandhanshotritafirst

@kmomof4 @linda8084 @golfgirld @captain-swan-coffee @searchingwardrobes

@hollyethecurious @laughswaytoomuch @allyourdarlingswans @winterbaby89 @facesiousbutton82

@therooksshiningknight @lfh1226-linda @tiganasummertree @jrob64 @anmylica

@booksteaandtoomuchtv @i-will-sing-no-requiem @bluewildcatfanatic @laianely

Other Chapters: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17) (18) (19) (20) (21) (22) (23) (24) (25) (26) (27)

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

Notes: I knew there was no way I could stick to just one drabble an episode for the CS movie, so I didn't even try. There will be 2 drabbles for 3x21 and 4 for 3x22. They are all written, so the plan is to post one per day until they're all posted.

Note 2: You didn't think I could write a series of season 3 drabbles without one about the CS kiss outside of Granny's did you?

She was kissing him, really kissing him. Killian’s heart swelled, somehow, paradoxically both soaring and settling. She was kissing him.

He’d never planned to tell her about the deal he’d had to make to get back to her. He wanted her more than anything in the world, but the last thing he’d wanted was for her to come to him out of a sense of obligation, of owing him for what he’d given up.

He missed his ship, aye, but if it was a choice between the Jolly and Emma, it was no contest. He’d have given up anything to get back to her.

The kiss went on and on. It was far gentler and less passionate than the one they’d shared in Neverland, but it was real. It was not borne merely of lust but of feelings acknowledged without words. She’d leaned into him not to blow off steam, not in answer to a challenge, not as a thank you.

She’d leaned in to him because she cared for him. She’d let down her walls and accepted her family and now she’d accepted her feelings for him. He could feel it in the way her lips and tongue moved against his.

It was overwhelming, the feelings inside so real they nearly brought tears to his eyes.

Later, when he had a chance to reflect on all of it, the elation would come, the joy that would make him want to shout his love to the rooftops, but for now, nothing existed but her and the fact that she was kissing him.

She pulled back for a moment and looked up at him with an almost tentative smile, and the openness in her eyes, the trust, the–dare he say it–love he saw shining back at him through them would have brought him to his knees had he been standing.

He returned her gentle smile before leaning in to close the distance between them once more. He’d always let her set the pace of this relationship, let her make the first moves. He’d been hesitant to step forward toward her–not only because he knew he needed to be patient and allow her to lower her walls in her own time, but also because he needed to protect his own heart. If he moved too quickly and scared her away….

But now, something had changed. She’d given herself to him–not yet in the carnal sense, of course, but in the emotional sense. With her kiss, she’d told him she wanted this relationship too; that she was done running, and he could have no more stopped himself from going in for that second kiss than he could have stopped himself from breathing.

She was intoxicating, and it was a high from which he hoped to never come down. Cupping her head with his hand, letting the silky strands flow through his fingers, he let the kiss go on and on.

No doubt there would be difficulties, set backs, new villains to defeat, but for now, for right now, he felt as though his life was nothing short of perfect, and he’d remain with her in this moment forever if he could.

#season 3 rewatch drabbles #captain swan fanfiction #3x22 fanfiction #my fanfiction #Best. Kiss. Ever.

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walviemort · 2 years ago

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I posted 65 times in 2022

17 posts created (26%)

48 posts reblogged (74%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@walviemort

@jennjenn615

@sancocnutclub

@bambimelly

@mpreglondon

I tagged 64 of my posts in 2022

Only 2% of my posts had no tags

#mpreg - 24 posts

#icymi - 21 posts

#inspo - 20 posts

#killian mpreg - 14 posts

#my ff - 8 posts

#you owe me - 6 posts

#captain pan - 6 posts

#cs ff - 5 posts

#emoji - 4 posts

#my manip - 3 posts

Longest Tag: 35 characters

#killian sending thirst pics to emma

My Top Posts in 2022:

You Owe Me [1/6]

Tired of losing Lost Boys to Hook's sword, Peter Pan decides that the pirate will be replacing the ones he took—the old-fashioned way: by growing (and birthing) them himself. As Killian grapples with these unexpected pregnancies, it will test not only his body and his endurance, but especially his heart. (Eventual Captain Swan)

An: Well, I hadn't PLANNED on starting a new WIP, but @sancocnutclub proposed this idea, and then my mind ran away with it. (On the bright side, I should be updating every couple of days, because it's almost entirely written, save for the last small section!) Normally, I stay away from Captain Pan because I'm not a huge fan of the dubcon/noncon it's usually flavored with, but I think I found a way to avoid that that hopefully won't scare away anyone who is like-minded! Hope you enjoy it!

rated T / 3.8k / AO3

It wasn’t the first time Killian Jones had ran a man through with his sword, and likely wouldn’t be the last, but that didn’t mean he ever enjoyed it. However, he enjoyed not dying more.

He wasn’t even sure he could call this opponent a man—he was still a boy really; one of Pan’s Lost Ones. Rufio, who he’d gone toe-to-toe with on more than one occasion. This just happened to be the one that proved fatal for the lad.

Sadly, this also wasn’t the first time Killian had spilled young blood on this hellhole island, either. It had always been in self defense, but it wasn’t hard to imagine himself in the place of those boys—he’d been something of a lost boy himself, a lifetime ago.

Suffice to say, his feelings were slightly conflicted as he pulled his blade out of his foe’s fallen form, but the fact that he’d live to see another day—another day closer to killing the Crocodile—was more important.

Around him, the skirmish between his crew and the Lost Ones was ending. There were no other casualties, it seemed, and the rest of the boys were quickly disappearing into the jungle while the pirates dusted themselves off and caught their breaths.

Pan lingered, though, staring daggers across the clearing at Killian. “You’ll pay for this, Captain,” he spat. It was no secret Rufio had been his favorite—his second in command. “You owe me. For Rufio, and all the other ones you’ve taken from me. Just you wait.” And then he too slipped off, out of sight.

“What do you suppose he means by that, Captain?” Mister Smee asked as Killian offered his first mate a hand up.

“No bloody clue,” he answered, “and I don’t rightly care at the moment. Come on, mates—back to the ship.”

He’d worry about Pan’s threats later. First, he needed a drink—and some sleep.

————————-

Pan was tired of losing good followers to the captain. It was true enough that his Lost Boys were somewhat replaceable, but Rufio had been special—he’d been loyal. That was hard to come by.

After the skirmish, he slipped away to his lair on Skull Rock. There, he had a few shelves of odd magic he’d acquired over time, as needed or as it piqued his interest. Upon one sat a rack of corked vials with a dark liquid in them; there were almost enough of them—one for each of the boys Hook had taken from him, minus one, but Pan could get creative with the last.

Now it was the pirate’s turn to feel loss—and for Pan to get his fair share of amusement from it.

He quickly transported himself to the Jolly Roger and easily found the captain’s flask, forgotten on the desk in his cabin.

With a level of care and swiftness only he could manage, he quickly added the contents of the vial to the flask and replaced it, then lurked out of sight until Hook returned.

And he couldn’t hold back the devious grin that twisted his face as he watched the man enter the cabin and make a beeline to his rum, then take a very long drag from it.

Oh, this was going to be a fun game indeed.

—--------------------

Killian was on alert the first few days after their last run-in with Pan, the demon child’s threat lingering in his mind. One thing he’d learned about the boy was he tended towards impatience, so he assumed any retaliation would come quickly.

But after nearly a week, nothing seemed to be amiss, so he let his guard down.

And a couple weeks after that, when he started dealing with nausea, he attributed it merely to having eaten something undercooked; gods only knew that some of his men should be taken off kitchen duty.

However—he seemed to be the only one dealing with stomach issues. And they lingered even after the crew rotated jobs. He’d spent too many years on ships to be developing seasickness this late in his life (even if he didn’t look like he’d been alive for over a century). At least the ginger tea they’d picked up in Agrabah on their last out-of-realm trip seemed to help, and it dissipated after a few weeks.

He still felt off-kilter, though; his emotions turned at the drop of a hat, he found himself aroused at the oddest moments and fatigued the next, and he wanted nothing to eat but boiled mackerel (which, of course, was not native to Neverland).

The strangest, though, was the day his breeches felt snugger than they usually did. And, if he wasn’t mistaken, his stomach was not quite as flat as it typically was; he was just vain enough to be concerned with his form, but he didn’t think he’d changed any habits enough lately to lead to him gaining weight.

Perhaps he was just bloated—his abdomen still felt solid, rather than soft. Or perhaps whoever had washed this pair of pants had shrunk them. It had to be.

But he finally had to admit that something was amiss when he had to adjust the laces on his leather vest because it wouldn’t close around his belly. “What the bloody hell is happening to me?” he muttered to himself, staring down at the new curve of his gut as he attempted to dress in his cabin.

See the full post

36 notes - Posted June 19, 2022

I finally have the mpreg emoji!!

🫃🏻🫃🏻🫃🏻

42 notes - Posted April 13, 2022

You Owe Me [6/6]

Tired of losing Lost Boys to Hook’s sword, Peter Pan decides that the pirate will be replacing the ones he took—the old-fashioned way: by growing (and birthing) them himself. As Killian grapples with these unexpected pregnancies, it will test not only his body and his endurance, but especially his heart. (Eventual Captain Swan)

Aaaaaand here it is—the final chapter! Thanks for going on this little adventure with me :) Hope you've enjoyed it; I know I have! And thank you again to @sancocnutclub for the inspo—hope it lived up to your idea!!!

rated T / 5.3k / part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / AO3

Some time later, Killian was awoken to the quiet sound of someone laughing—or, rather, trying to hold back laughter.

And then, with slightly more urgency, to the feeling of tiny appendages pressing on his bladder.

He attempted to sit up, but something was blocking his way—and further quiet chuckling soon commenced. Blearily, he blinked his eyes and then rubbed them, bringing into clarity the image before him: a bump that was quite a bit larger than it had been when he fell asleep, thus inhibiting his attempt to move normally. And beyond that, Emma—watching him with humor sparkling in her eyes.

“Well I’m glad you find this funny,” he quipped, awkwardly turning himself so he could sit up sideways. “Any chance you could help me up?” he asked once he realized that there was a reason he’d never slept on anything lower than his bunk in any previous pregnancy.

“Sure,” she said, still laughing, and came over to offer her hands. He ignored the skip his heart made when their fingers touched, or the way she didn’t hesitate to grip his hook, but he did briefly worry if his increased heft would pose a problem.

Thankfully, it didn’t, though he did sway forward a bit once he was upright, bumping his belly into her. “Oof, sorry,” he quickly apologized. “And thanks.”

She rubbed her own stomach. “No problem; just tell that kid to calm down.”

“Would if I could,” he replied, massaging a spot on his belly that appeared to be under attack. “Beg your pardon, but I need to excuse myself for some, ah, relief.”

Emma’s eyes went wide. “Too much information.”

“Not that kind!” he quickly exclaimed. “The normal kind.”

She was holding back another smirk. He just shook his head and shuffled off to find a private spot in the trees.

His belly had definitely popped out as he slept; he wasn’t sure exactly how long he’d been out, but if he’d been around the five-month mark before, he was past seven months now. His tunic was holding on but it did nothing to hide his stomach.

And bloody hell, was the little one active. Before he joined the others, he took a moment to study the bump, not wanting to subject them to such an odd sight and to preserve what little of his vanity remained. The stretch marks he saw upon lifting his tunic were not surprising, nor was it that his navel was slightly popped out. He certainly still had a ways to go, but from what he could tell, things were progressing well. And the babe was eagerly pressing in all directions; he could make out the distinct impression of hands and feet.

But—was it just him, or was he feeling more than four limbs?

He felt around and took as quick a stock as possible, and he counted at least six tiny hands and/or feet pressing against his belly, and could feel a couple more moving against his ribs.

“Shit,” he cursed. “Fuck.”

“Hook? What’s wrong?” Emma sounded concerned as she ran towards him; he quickly pulled his tunic down.

“Oh, Pan’s just as much of a lying bastard as ever,” he griped. “It’s twins.”

“What? You can tell?”

“How long was I asleep?”

“Like, four hours or so?”

He shook his head in disbelief; that only put him past the six-month mark. “If it were only one, I wouldn’t be this big yet,” he said, cupping his bump. “And I know what twins feel like. There’s definitely two.”

Emma stepped a bit closer, hands outstretched. “Can I?”

“Be my guest.” He didn’t exactly sound gracious, though.

His annoyance dissipated a bit under her touch as she gently traced the curve of his belly with both hands. She smiled a bit, but he could see the look of shock when came to the same realization. “Holy shit, there’s two.”

“I told you.”

See the full post

48 notes - Posted June 29, 2022

When Emma presented the idea of boudoir/paternity photo shoot, Killian wasn’t at all hesitant to oblige—in fact, he was downright eager. Yes, he was bearing the brunt of bringing their child into the world, and while his form had drastically changed over the last almost-eight months, he still felt confident in his looks and appeal; how could he not when his beautiful wife couldn’t keep her hands off of him?

original

64 notes - Posted August 6, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

“She stepped away from me, and she moved through the fair. And fondly I watched as she moved here and move there...”

As the birth of their baby got closer and closer, Killian had taken to singing to their baby as he or she rolled around in his (fairly large) stomach. And every single time, Emma was hit with a wave of emotion at the beautiful sight. So who could blame here if she snuck a photo of it one night, while she was folding laundry on their bedroom floor and he was perched on the bed, tracing his belly?

“And then she turned homeward with one star awake,” he hummed, then found Emma’s eyes. “Like the swan in the evening moves over the lake.”

Well, she obviously had to abandon what she was doing, so she could hop up next to him and press a sincere kiss to his lips. Then she curled up in his side (the only way they could cuddle right now) and rested her hand on his bump, feeling their kid’s movements as he continued to sing to both of them.

(original)

97 notes - Posted September 19, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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kmomof4 · 2 years ago

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A Mistress to No One A Birthday Fic for hollyethecurious

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, HOLLYE!!!!

Today is the birthday of the other of my besties, @hollyethecurious!!! Benedict is her favorite of the Bridgerton siblings, so to celebrate the day of her birth, I decided to write her a CS fic inspired by his story. I so hope you have a fabulous day and that you enjoy this fic, babe! It’s certainly been a long time coming! Love you to the moon and back again!!!!

All the love and thanks to @jrob64 and @zaharadessert for their betaing expertise, and all the brainstorming sessions they had to endure when I got stuck. Which was a lot... Also boatloads of internet hugs to @motherkatereloyshipper for her manips I used in the artwork. Thank you all so much, ladies!!!

The fic is not completely written yet, and it currently stands at a Prologue, Pt. 1 which includes Chs 1-3, and Pt. 2 which includes Chs. 4-8. I’m expecting there to be one or two more chapters, for a total of nine or ten chapters plus the prologue. I’ll be posting this one a little differently. Ch.1 will be posting this Wednesday, Jan. 25, with ch2 posting next Sunday, Jan. 29. From there, chs will be posting weekly.

I so hope you enjoy and let me know what you think!

Summary: Bastard Emma Swan enjoys one night of pure magic and romance in the midst of a life of drudgery and abuse- attending a masquerade ball and meeting aristocrat Killian Jones.

Two years later, the same man she met on the best night of her life reappears, saving her from a dire fate in the process.

Now, she must keep herself from falling in love with a man she can never have. But when that proves impossible, is there any hope for a happy ending between two people from such vastly different worlds?

Rating: M (smut)

Words: Almost 1900

Tags: Birthday Fic, Inspired by Benedict’s Story in Bridgerton, Smut

On ao3

New tag list! Please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed.

@jrob64 @teamhook @winterbaby89 @hollyethecurious @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

Under the cut, unless Tumblr ate it.

Emma Swan was a bastard.

And what was worse, everyone knew she was a bastard, not just Emma herself. Fortunately, everyone at Spencer Hall loved Emma and had since she was a little girl when she arrived on the doorstep one dark and stormy November midnight.

George Spencer, the Earl of Glowerhaven, was in residence and had briefly scanned the correspondence stuffed into the pocket of the too large coat Emma wore. After tossing it in the fireplace, he stood and watched the fire lick at the edges of the missive, then turned to the housekeeper and ordered a room made up for the child near the nursery of the country estate. There she had remained ever since.

She’d been introduced to the staff of Spencer Hall the next day as the Earl’s ward, the orphaned daughter of an old friend. Nevermind that the resemblance she bore to the Earl’s sister and deceased mother was too great to be ignored. But ignored it was, as none of the staff of Spencer Hall wanted to risk their livelihoods by speaking of it.

Emma didn’t remember much of her life before coming to live at Spencer Hall, but she did remember the woman who carried her to the front door of the manor telling her that she was going to live with her father now. The look on the Earl’s face when his eyes met hers told her the truth. A truth that, at the age of five, she was too young to really understand, but had been made clear to her as the years rolled on. He called her Emma, she called him ‘My Lord’, and she only saw him a few times a year when he returned home from London. He asked about her lessons once she was old enough for school and she did her best to make him proud of her. The arrangement pleased everyone.

Until the Earl decided to marry.

Emma was pleased with the news, because along with it came the revelation that the Earl planned to spend more time at Spencer Hall now that he was a family man. Besides that, the new Countess had two daughters, very nearly the same age as Emma herself. She couldn’t help but hope that with him spending more time at Spencer Hall with his new wife and daughters, he’d treat her more like a daughter and they could truly be a family.

The day finally came when the Earl would arrive home with his new wife, and Emma was beside herself. She stood on the other side of the foyer from where all the servants were lined up to meet the new mistress of the house, rather at a loss of what to do with herself.

If she were truly a ward of the Earl, she’d be near the front of the line awaiting to be introduced to the new Countess. As it was, however, the Earl didn’t even notice she was there until she cleared her throat a second time, a little more loudly than the first, after everyone else had been introduced.

“Emma,” the Earl said, surprise lacing his tone. “I didn’t see you there.”

Emma smiled widely and curtsied, thrilled that he wasn’t purposely ignoring her.

“And who is this?” a sickly sweet voice asked. The Earl turned to his new wife and Emma caught her breath. She was beautiful. Chestnut hair with highlights of red framed a narrow face. Dark brown eyes took Emma in from head to toe before narrowing as the Earl introduced her.

“This is my ward, Miss Emma Swan,” he said. The new Countess’ eyes narrowed even more as she speared Emma with a perceptive, assessing look.

“I see,” she said. She took the hands of the two girls on either side of her, and turned back to the Earl. “I’d like to go upstairs now, please. I assume you have rooms ready for Zelena and Regina?”

“Of course, my dear,” the Earl assured her. “Near the nursery, right next to Emma.”

The new Countess sniffed with disdain, as she again looked at Emma. Not wanting to meet that penetrating gaze, Emma looked at the two girls on either side of the new Countess. One was taller than the other, she must be the older one, Emma thought, and was very thin like the Countess. Her hair was a wild mass of red curls that reminded Emma of the setting sun. The girl took her cue from her mother and looked down the bridge of her narrow nose at Emma without saying a word. The other girl wasn’t as thin as the first, and had dark brown, almost black, straight hair, coming down below her shoulders. Her dark eyes held indecision as she looked first at her mother and then back at Emma. Emma offered her a tentative smile, but the girl only looked down at her feet, not meeting Emma’s eyes.

The new Countess swept away up the stairs of the manor, taking her daughters and the Earl with her. Emma did her best to hide the tears that filled her eyes.

~*~*~

The next morning, Emma had been at her lessons for an hour when the new Countess and her daughters entered the nursery. The governess, Johanna, jumped quickly to her feet and curtsied.

The new Countess sniffed with disdain when she spotted Emma, then took in the governess. Emma didn’t smile at the daughters this time. It seemed like it wasn’t a good time to repeat the previous day's gesture.

“Johanna?”

“Yes, My Lady,” she replied, curtsying again and not looking the imperious woman in the face.

“I understand from the Earl that you are to teach my daughters.”

“I will do my best, My Lady.”

“This is Zelena,” she said, motioning the red head forward. “She is twelve.” She then motioned to her other daughter who hadn’t raised her eyes from the floor. “And this is Regina. She is ten.”

“Emma is also ten,” Johanna volunteered. The new Countess seemed put out to be reminded of Emma’s presence and huffed indignantly.

“I’d like you to show my daughters around the house and gardens,” she said.

“Of course. Emma, put down your slate and…”

“Just my daughters,” the Countess interrupted. Johanna’s mouth dropped open in astonishment, but she snapped it shut just as quickly.

“Yes, My Lady,” she murmured.

As soon as the door shut behind Johanna and the girls, the Countess turned to Emma, pure hatred blazing in her eyes.

“I know who you are,” she hissed.

“M-my Lady?”

“You’re his bastard and don’t you deny it.”

Emma didn’t say a word. Of course, she knew it was true, but it was the first time anyone had spoken of it to her face. The Countess grabbed her by the chin and turned her face this way and that. Emma struggled to hold in the whimpers caused by the pain of the woman’s fingernails digging into her face.

“Now you listen to me,” the Countess growled. “You might live here at Spencer Hall and you might take lessons with my daughters, but you are nothing but a bastard and that is all you will ever be. Don’t you ever think that you belong to this family. You are not to speak to my daughters except during lessons. They are the daughters of this house, and they shouldn’t have to be burdened with the likes of you.” The sneer on her face and contempt in her voice was enough to bring tears to Emma’s eyes. “You are not ever to speak to me and you will endeavor to never be in my presence. My husband feels some misguided duty to you, but you are an insult to me and to my daughters. To have you in my house, fed and clothed as if you were one of us.” She looked down her nose at Emma, the venom in her gaze turning Emma’s blood to ice. “Do you have any questions?”

Emma wasn’t fool enough to believe the question was sincere, so she silently shook her head.

“Good.” The Countess spun away from her, her skirts flaring, and walked out the door.

~*~*~

It wasn’t long before Emma became even more aware of her precarious position in the Earl’s household. The servants knew everything and the gossip eventually reached Emma’s ears.

The Countess’ name was Cora and she had demanded the very day she’d arrived at Spencer Hall that Emma be removed. The Earl had refused. He informed his new bride that she didn’t have to love Emma, or even like her for that matter, but that he had an obligation to her that he’d met for the last five years and he wasn’t going to stop now.

Zelena followed her mother’s example to the letter in her dealings with Emma, but Regina had a kind heart that wouldn’t allow her to participate in the level of torture and cruelty that Zelena seemed to relish subjecting Emma to. And while Regina didn’t speak up or stop Zelena in her mistreatment of Emma, when the younger girls were unsupervised, Regina was surprisingly kind to her.

“Your parents not being married isn’t your fault,” she said with a shrug. “And I see no reason to treat you so badly.” Unfortunately, Regina’s fear of her sister and mother kept those sentiments and any actions that might confirm them solely between the two of them.

Life continued in this way for the next five years, when one afternoon during tea, the Earl clutched at his chest and fell over, dead before he hit the ground.

No one was more surprised than Cora, who’d been trying since their wedding night to conceive the all-important heir.

“I might be with child,” she all but screeched at the solicitor. “You can’t give the title to some distant cousin when I might be with child!”

And so the reading of the Earl’s will was delayed until they could be quite certain whether the Countess was with child or not.

A month on, it was verified she was not, to the Countess’ enraged dismay.

When the will was finally read, Cora had been forced to sit next to the new Earl, a rather dissolute young man who was drunk more often than not. The will itself was fairly straight forward. The Earl had established funds for Zelena, Regina, and even Emma, ensuring they all had respectable dowries.

Then the solicitor came to Cora’s name.

To my wife, Cora Spencer, Countess of Spencer Hall, I leave a yearly income of two-thousand pounds…

“That’s all?” Cora cried indignantly.

... unless she agrees to house and care for my ward, Miss Emma Swan, until she reaches the age of twenty, in which case, her yearly income shall be trebled to six-thousand pounds.

“I don’t want her,” the Countess bit out.

“You don’t have to take her,” the solicitor reminded her.

“And live on two-thousand pounds a year? Are you mad?” The solicitor, who lived on much less than two thousand pounds a year, remained silent and tried not to roll his eyes.

“What is your decision?” he asked.

Cora stood with as much dignity as she could muster. “Fine, I’ll take her,” she replied, teeth clenched in anger.

“Shall I find the girl and tell her?”

“I’ll tell her myself.”

But when Cora spoke with Emma, she left out some important details…

~*~*~

Thank you for reading and sharing! Happy birthday, Hollye! Part 1: Ch. 1 will post Wednesday!

#a mistress to no one #birthday fic for hollye #krystal writes #art by krystal #manips by kit

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