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kittenofdoomage · 1 year

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Obeying Temptation

Summary: She’s not a good Christian girl by any stretch, but he might still have some fun corrupting her.

Pairing: Alpha!Demon!Dean x Omega!female!reader

Word Count: 8481

Warnings: soooo much blasphemy, religious themes, smut (incl. fingering, full penetrative sex and oral sex), A/B/O (incl. scenting, knotting, marking, mentions of bodily fluids), angst, drama, demonic possession, mentions of breeding kink, dirty talk, derogatory names, hands on throats, biting, bruising, abandonment, slight dubcon and implied murder of religious clergymen, ambiguous ending

Ao3 Link

Author Note: Happy New Year everyone, enjoy some blasphemy before 2023 kicks in 😈

Church had always felt like a chore. In truth, it was more her mom’s thing than Y/N’s, but she obeyed the rules of her mother’s house, since she was stuck living there until she could find a job that paid better than minimum wage. Every Sunday, she put on one of the hideous Sears dresses her Aunt Margaret sent every birthday and followed her mother to church. Her mom didn’t make her sit at the front with the rest of the gossipy old ladies that liked to speculate on the love lives of the other attendees, at least.

It was hard not to zone out when Father Taggart droned on about the importance of community and keeping Jesus in your heart, and if she could have gotten away with it, she would have played on her phone until the service was done. She’d never understood the purpose of “God’s House”, preferring to believe His house was everywhere, seeing as he was supposed to be ubiquitous.

Today’s sermon was more of the same. Y/N sat away from most of the other parishioners, listening as the greying vicar rambled through Matthew 22-something, her attention wandering around the stone archways of the old building. As her eyes drifted, she noticed someone in the darkness to the left near the confessionals, a good few meters away from the pews.

He stepped forward, white collar catching her gaze first. Another priest? she wondered, and his eyes met hers. A smile tugged at his lips but it was nothing like the smile she would expect to see on a vicar’s face. This smile was calculating, cunning… predatory. Despite the distance between them, she could tell he was an Alpha, unusual for a man of the cloth; she wished she could see him more clearly but he was almost entirely bathed in shadows.

“And now, I would like to invite a new voice to speak,” Father Taggart announced, and Y/N dragged her eyes from the shadowy priest to the front again, though she could feel him watching her still. “May I introduce Father Crowley, who will be standing in for Father Grayson now he has retired.”

She remembered Father Grayson, though she’d only met him a few times when she’d picked her mom up from her Wednesday night prayer group. He was at least a hundred years old, she was sure of it, bent double and hair as white as snow. Maybe he should have retired a few years earlier.

The man who stepped up with a polite nod at Father Taggart was in his late forties, or maybe early fifties - she was never very good at judging age. He had dark hair and a slightly unkempt beard, but she supposed he was attractive. For a priest.

“Thank you, Father Taggart,” the newcomer crooned, his British accent making a few of the older ladies whisper among themselves. “It is a pleasure to be speaking to you all today. As he explained, myself and Father Winchester will be standing in for Father Grayson until a suitable permanent replacement can be found.” He smiled, looking out upon his audience. “I’m sure we will feel right at home in your wonderful parish.”

Y/N glanced back to the shadows, wondering if the mysterious Alpha was Father Winchester, but he was gone. She shuddered, feeling a chill in the air as Father Taggart gave Father Crowley a further welcome, then called everyone to stand for the last hymn.

Hymns had always been the part of church she enjoyed. Singing in general was a hobby, one to be practised away from anyone who would hear her, so hymns offered her a way to sing without being singled out in a crowd. The church organ player situated herself, then began to play as Father Taggart instructed the mass to turn to Holy God, We Praise Thy Name.

The mysterious priest didn’t appear again.

It always took forever to get her mom in the car after services, usually because she was still chatting with her friends. Y/N hung around the grassy front, toying with her keys as she waited, listening to her mom pass comment on the “hot new priest”.

“You know he’s still twenty years younger than you, right?” she called out, making her mom glare in her direction.

Agnes, her mom’s best friend, prodded her. “Did you see that other one?”

“No?” Her mom frowned, glancing over at her daughter. “There was another one?”

“Mmhmm,” Agnes nodded. “Younger. Very handsome. Maybe Y/N…”

“Oh, god, Agnes, please,” Y/N interjected, holding a hand up to stop the older woman. “I’m not interested in any guys, priests or not. Besides, I thought they’re supposed to be celibate?”

Agnes and her mom chuckled. “That’s a common misconception,” her mom advised, with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. “Trust me.”

“I don’t wanna know,” she mumbled, scrunching up her face in disgust.

“Oh come now, dear,” Agnes chided softly, “you can’t expect to live at home forever. We all have a body clock, you know, Omegas most of all.”

It was difficult not to roll her eyes at the outdated opinion, so she decided not to engage in yet another discussion about how Omegas weren’t just breeding sows. Jingling the keys, she turned her attention to her mother, giving her a tight smile. “Can we get going, Mom? I wanna enjoy the rest of my weekend.”

Her mom rolled her eyes. “Okay, okay. I’ll see you tomorrow, Agnes.”

“Take care, Judith. Goodbye, Y/N!”

“Bye,” Y/N muttered, already marching towards the car. Judith followed at a leisurely pace, ignoring the impatience of her daughter as she climbed into the passenger seat. Turning the key in the engine, Y/N glanced back to check the rear of the vehicle, making sure she didn’t hit the black classic parked behind her.

“Agnes is only worried, you know,” her mom started.

“Mom -”

“I know, I know, none of my business. But I would like to see a grandchild…”

Y/N gritted her teeth. “Mom.”

Judith went quiet, clamping her mouth shut with a grin. Y/N pulled the car out of the spot and sped off, hoping that her stern tone was enough to put the subject to bed. They were silent the whole way home, and when they got inside, Y/N retreated to her room to lose herself in something distracting.

By Monday morning, she’d forgotten most of the encounter, and began her week at work with a smile. Her job kept her busy, and though she hated the majority of her duties, she liked that it occupied her mind and she never had to take it home with her.

Sunday rolled around with a storm, the second of the week. The weather had been all kinds of crazy since summer had hit, and when she arrived at church with her mother, they had to run in to avoid getting drenched. Judith toddled off to her usual spot, and Y/N, once again, found sanctuary at the back. It was emptier than usual, likely due to the rain, and she could hear it on the church roof above the crowd.

Father Crowley stood at the front, waiting for everyone to get settled, and when Y/N looked around, she couldn’t see Father Taggart. Her mom was sitting with Agnes, both of them whispering to each other, and they fell silent when Father Crowley called for quiet.

“I have some grave news to give you all today,” he began, and several parishioners sat up straighter. “Father Taggart has been taken ill, so he will not be conducting service today. I would like to ask you all to hold him in your prayers, and hope for a full recovery.”

Y/N tensed, a new scent tickling her nose. The pew she was sitting on was empty save for her, and she looked to either side, searching for the source of the smell. It was thick and rich, invading her senses, inexplicably Alpha.

Movement from the darkness at the left of the church caught her eye. She focused, seeing him standing in the shadows by the door that led out to the graveyard, and for a second, she could have sworn his eyes were black. Her hands shook as she clutched the church-copy of the bible, unable to take her eyes off of him.

Father Crowley was speaking again, delivering a sermon every inch as boring as Father Taggart’s, and Y/N wasn’t paying the slightest bit of attention. She stared at the mysterious priest in the shadows, feeling her heart rate speed up, and a light sweat broke out on her forehead. Her lips parted as she panted lightly, suddenly aware of what was happening.

She needed air.

Getting to her feet, she tried not to stumble, being as quiet as possible as she headed for the main entrance. No one seemed to pay her much attention, most of them listening to Father Crowley, so she escaped unnoticed, closing the door behind her.

It was still raining. The only thing that protected her was the awning over the doorway. She didn’t care, gulping down fresh air as she tried to control herself. “It’s too early,” she muttered, shaking her head.

The door opened behind her. “Is everything okay, sweetheart?” It was her mom, and Y/N turned, nodding.

“It’s fine, Mom, I’ll just go wait in the car.”

Judith didn’t look convinced. “Are you sure?” she whispered. “It’s Sunday, it might be a while.”

“Can I help you, ladies?”

The low rough voice made them both turn, and Y/N almost yelped at the sight of the mysterious priest. In the dull light of the storm, she could see every detail of his handsome features, and her mouth went dry as she drank in all six feet of him. “My daughter isn’t feeling well,” Judith explained before she could stop her.

“I’m fine, Mom,” Y/N insisted. “I can wait in the car.”

“If you’re feeling unwell, you can sit in the rectory until service is finished,” the priest offered.

Judith smiled, pressing a hand to her chest. “Oh, Father Winchester, that would put my mind at ease.” She glanced at her daughter. “I don’t think you’ve met yet. Y/N, this is -”

“Father Winchester,” Y/N whispered, staring at him. “I’d really be okay in my car.”

Her mom frowned then, reaching out to take her hand. “Please, Y/N, I’d be happier if you weren’t alone out here.”

She wanted to scream. Father Winchester was an Alpha, though her Beta mother wouldn’t scent it. He smiled at her, and she felt a thread of fear knot in her stomach. “It’s only next door,” he said smoothly, gesturing to the covered walkway that ran around the side of the old building. “Your mother can come and find you when she’s done.”

Her mother’s pleading gaze made her heart drop. She nodded reluctantly, and Judith beamed, clasping her hands over Y/N’s, tilting her head as she gazed at the priest gratefully.

“Thank you so much, Father,” she gushed, patting her daughter’s hand before scurrying back inside.

Father Winchester held out an arm, gesturing to the footpath. “It’s this way.” He stepped off, and Y/N followed. His scent filled her mouth and nose, making her stomach churn, and she couldn’t help staring at his muscular frame from behind him.

The rectory was a neat little house behind the church and the graveyard, far enough away from the other buildings that it was eerily silent. It was still raining, less enthusiastically than it had been before, but enough for her to feel her clothes getting wet as she followed the priest across the back of the graveyard. He paused after he’d opened the front door, holding it for her to slip past, and she felt a chill as she did. The door closed behind him, turning to face her as she hovered in the hallway.

“Would you like some tea?” he asked politely. It felt forced, and his intense stare made her insides quiver.

“Uh, sure.”

He smiled - the same predatory look he’d given her before. “The kitchen is through here.” Leading with his hand, he didn’t wait for her to follow, though she did, letting her gaze travel over the aged wallpaper and the few old pictures hanging on the walls. Most of them were religious or with the church itself as a subject, and for a moment, she wondered if Father Taggart was home, seeing as he was ill.

“How is Father Taggart?” she asked curiously. “Father Crowley said he was taken ill.”

Father Winchester barely spared her a glance as he filled the kettle with water, placing it on the stove top. “I’m sure he’ll be fine,” he muttered, his tone indicating a lack of regard for the man in question.

“Where is he?” she pushed, hoping that she wasn’t alone in the house with such an odd man.

He turned his head, grinning at her. “He left this morning. Staying with relatives in Florida. Warmer air.”

It sounded like he was mocking her, but she couldn’t see what the point would be, so she shrugged and let it go, looking around the kitchen for somewhere to sit. There was definitely space for a dining table and chairs in there but the space they could have occupied was empty.

“How are you feeling now?” the Father asked.

His question caught her off-guard. “Uh, okay, I guess,” she stammered, hugging herself for some small measure of comfort. “Probably allergies.” She was lying through her teeth; the gentle ache beginning in her belly told her exactly what was happening.

He hummed like he didn’t quite believe her. “Are you sure?” he pressed, turning to face her. “Lying is a sin, Y/N.”

Her eyes widened, and she shook her head hurriedly, fighting the urge to back up and show his intimidation of her. She dropped her hands to her sides, trying to appear casual. “Well, I mean, storms kick up all sorts of allergens,” she managed, shrugging.

Father Winchester sighed, shaking his head in disappointment. “You know, I gave you the chance there,” he scolded softly. “But I can see you’re going to be difficult about it.”

A lump formed in her throat. “About what?” she rasped, feigning innocence.

“I can smell you.”

The statement made her freeze, and she met his eyes like a frightened rabbit. He was facing her now, stalking her almost, and even though he was scaring the crap out of her, a tiny part of her was sending a thrill down her spine. His eyes shone as he stepped closer, and her knees trembled.

“Been able to smell you since you got out of your car,” he continued, coming closer still. “Sweet. Ripe. Just begging to be plucked.”

“Father Winchester, I -”

He scoffed, silencing her. “It’s Dean.”

She frowned at the odd correction, never knowing a priest to be so informal. But then, she’d never known one to be this inappropriate toward her. “This is wrong,” she whispered, finally backing away from him, only to find cupboards at her back two steps later. He was so close now, close enough to grab her, close enough that he was blocking any escape.

A smirk curled his lips, making him even more devastatingly handsome. “Then why can I smell how wet you are, sweetheart?”

Y/N whimpered, pressing herself into the cupboard door. “You shouldn’t be acting like this,” she denied. “You’re a priest, a man of the cloth -”

He was suddenly up against her, and she sucked in a breath, words fading as his scent overwhelmed her. “I’m an Alpha,” he murmured, reaching up to cup her face with one huge hand. “You’re an Omega. I know you feel it, I know you want it.”

She shook her head, her only struggle against his hold. He chuckled, leaning in like he was going to kiss her and she knew she should have resisted but she didn’t. His face got closer and right as he was about to brush his lips over hers, he went left, pressing his cheek to hers instead. The hand at her jaw tugged at her jacket, pulling it down until her bare shoulder and throat were exposed.

“I wouldn’t force myself on you, Y/N,” he crooned, mouth right against the shell of her ear. “It’s so much more satisfying to watch you try to fight it.” He chuckled, running the tips of his fingers up over her bare arm. “And you’re going to beg for my knot before long.” His fingers slid over her shoulder and up to her throat, stroking over the spot where an Alpha would lay his claim.

A shudder ran up her spine, and she could feel wetness in her panties. No doubt he could smell it, how aroused she was just from a few moments in his presence. “I don’t -” Her mouth was so dry, she couldn’t speak. Working some saliva up, she managed a tiny whine, and Dean pulled back to look her in the eye.

“Try again,” he ordered softly.

“I don’t think th-this is appropriate,” she stammered, too aware of the hand still lingering on her throat.

“Why not?” he teased, grinning at her. “Your body wants it. Every second, your scent’s gettin’ stronger, princess.”

This is wrong, this is wrong, she chanted in her mind but already she was imagining it, conjuring fantasies based on the hard lines of his body that held her against the cupboard. “Please,” she keened desperately.

“Please, what?”

The kettle began to shrill loudly, and the tension in the room snapped. Dean stepped away, leaving her to crumple in on herself, and she panted against the cupboard, watching him as he continued to make the tea.

She wondered for a second if she’d imagined it but her jacket was still hanging halfway down her shoulder, and she could still feel his touch on her skin. Her panties were soaked through, and when she straightened, she felt the ache in her belly turning raw.

The front door opened, and she heard her mother’s voice. Relief swept through her, but Dean didn’t seem bothered in the slightest by the arrival of company.

“Oh, of course, Father, we understand,” Judith was practically swooning over him, “after all, safety comes first.”

“Absolutely, my child,” Father Crowley replied and the front door shut loudly. “Now let’s see where your daughter has gotten to.” His voice got louder as they approached the kitchen, and when he entered, he smiled at you. “Here she is.” He glanced at the other priest. “Safe and sound.”

Judith didn’t notice the odd tone he spoke with, but Y/N did. She stood still as her mother came closer and began to fuss, pressing one hand to her daughter’s forehead. “Oh dear,” she mumbled, flustering a little as she realized what was ailing the younger woman. “I suppose we should get you home.”

“That’s probably a good idea,” Father Crowley interjected, glaring at Father Winchester, who smirked back.

“Thank you for looking after her, Father,” Judith cooed, smiling at both men.

“Take good care of her, won’t you?” Dean requested, all charm as he stared right at Y/N. She swallowed down a whimper, ducking her head so her mother didn’t see her reaction to him. “She’s a very special girl.”

Her mother clutched her chest, giving him an adoring look. “I will, Father Winchester,” she promised, taking Y/N’s hand but her daughter was already moving, desperate to get away from the scent of him. “Aren’t you going to say goodbye?” Judith admonished, making her freeze in her tracks.

She turned back, stomach churning, palms getting sweaty. “Thank you, Father,” she mumbled, curtseying like she was a child at Sunday School.

“I’ll keep you in my prayers,” he replied, a filthy smirk on his lips.

Judith didn’t linger this time, following as her daughter dashed for the door and out into the fresh air. The door closed behind them, and Crowley turned to Dean, arching one eyebrow in his direction.

“Feeling a little more enthusiastic about this?” he taunted. “Though you’re behind. I’ve already got three in the bag, what’s so special about this one?”

Dean’s smirk grew. “Didn’t you smell her?”

Crowley hummed. “Not something I’d be attuned to,” he shrugged. “This meatsuit’s a Beta.”

“You’re missing out,” Dean chuckled. “All she needs is a little push and she’ll be begging.”

“Seems like a waste of time.”

The younger man growled. “I thought we were here to have fun.”

“We are,” Crowley confirmed hesitantly. “I just thought it was a little more damning of little old ladies and less chasing tail.”

Dean snorted, rolling his eyes. “Whatever floats your boat. We should get rid of Taggart. He’s gonna start stinking up the joint.”

She’d been mistaken in thinking getting away from Father Winchester would slow her predicament. If anything, by the time she arrived home, the heat was getting stronger. Her mother parked the car and ushered her out, ordering her to her room to rest while promising noodle soup.

Usually, she’d sleep through most of a heat, ensconced in her personal space, and it would be over within three or four days. Even at her age and unmated, she managed them easily, but this one was early, way off her regular cycle. It felt stronger too, crippling her in hours, and by the time her mom brought her soup, she was at the point of begging for unconsciousness. Judith was concerned - Y/N dismissed it, assuring her mother she only needed rest and sending her away.

Every time she closed her eyes, Dean’s face, his scent, tormented her.

Monday didn’t bring any improvement. She strayed from her nest only to use the bathroom, snacking on comfort foods and watching shows when she wasn’t sleeping. Her mom checked in before she went out, and while she was gone, Y/N used the private time to take the edge off, cursing herself when she imagined Dean being the one to satisfy her.

She fell short of satisfying herself, only succeeding making the longing worse.

On Tuesday, her mom was home, and expressed a desire to call the doctor, but Y/N waved her off again. Her fever was beginning to break, she just had to ride it out.

In the afternoon, someone knocked at the door, the noise disturbing her sleep. She laid in her bed, listening as her mother greeted whoever it was, and for a moment, the low voice that answered didn’t register. When she realized who it was, she bolted upright, staring at the door in horror as she heard them coming up the stairs.

Her mother knocked at her door seconds later, and Y/N snatched the covers, pulling them up to her chin. The door opened without her consent - nothing unusual for Judith - and she stepped in alone, even though Y/N could smell Dean just outside in the hall.

“Y/N,” she murmured, “Father Winchester has come to check in on you.”

“I’m fine, Mom,” Y/N grunted back. “I’d rather not -”

“Nonsense,” she insisted. “Maybe prayer will help take your mind off of it.”

The utter disregard the older woman suddenly had was alarming, but Y/N didn’t have a chance to question it as Father Winchester entered, smirking at her. Judith smiled, glancing over at her daughter as she wilted in the bed.

“I’ve got to run into town. Will you two be okay?” Judith asked, ignoring the horror on Y/N’s face.

“I’m sure I can assist Y/N with whatever she needs,” Dean drawled, still grinning, eyes locked on her. It didn’t appear that Judith caught his double meaning at all, as she quickly retreated, leaving her Omega daughter to the Alpha’s mercy. He waited until he heard her reach the bottom of the stairs, then he pushed the door almost closed, licking his lips. “Mmm,” he exhaled, “I can taste you in the air, pretty thing.”

“I could shout,” she threatened quietly. “Mom will -”

“Go ahead,” he dared. “But I already know, you won’t. Because you’ve been thinking about me for three days.”

Her cheeks flushed with fresh heat but she held his gaze in defiance. He tucked his tongue behind his teeth, his expression mocking her, and she scowled, hating the fact that he was having an effect on her.

Downstairs, the front door shut, leaving them alone.

Dean moved closer, lowering himself onto the bed by her thighs. He didn’t touch her, but his proximity was enough to make her tense, the desire in her belly growing stronger with every whiff of his scent. “Don’t worry,” he soothed, lifting his chin. “I won’t touch you unless you ask nicely.”

She ground her teeth together. That same tiny part of her that had sprung up back at the rectory, the Judas in her soul that made her quiver at just his voice; it was screaming now, pleading with her to give in. Keeping her mouth shut, she focused on remaining still, unreactive to his presence.

“Ooo, hard to get, huh?” he chuckled, shaking his head. “Your scent betrays what you’re craving, baby. I bet you’ve cum half a dozen times on those useless plastic knots.” He looked around the room, obviously looking for evidence. “Where do you hide them?”

Y/N kept her eyes on him, unwilling to give away her secret.

“Gotta be somewhere mommy won’t find,” he continued, getting to his feet again. “She’s so nice. I doubt she knows what a little cockslut her daughter truly is.”

Her stomach clenched, and she looked down at her knees underneath the quilt. Dean laughed again, wandering over to her dresser. He smoothed one long hand along the top of it, glancing back at her in amusement.

“No, not in here, too obvious,” he mused aloud, scanning the room. Spying her closet, he strode over to it, opening the doors. He inspected it without touching anything, looking back at her again to check her reaction. She continued to keep her eyes down, chewing her lip to silence herself. “Not even gonna give me a hint?”

The rise he wanted wasn’t forthcoming though he didn’t seem bothered by her refusal to play his game. He stalked closer, trying to get her to look at him. She kept her head down, resisting, but when his knee hit the bed, she couldn’t stop her eyes darting towards where her shoebox lay.

Dropping to one knee, he reached under the bed, finding the only thing that was under there. He pulled the box out, glancing up to see her shameful expression, and he knew he had his prize.

“Let’s see,” he hummed, tugging the lid off.

Y/N only owned two toys, a vibrating wand and a dildo. Dean went for the dildo first, holding it up in scrutiny as she tried to will her bed to swallow her whole.

“Oh, baby. You’re in for a treat.” He clicked his tongue, smirking at her. “This is tiny.” It hit the floor with a thud that made her flinch. “But this one might be useful.” He dropped the shoebox, throwing the wand onto the bed; it landed between her knees. “Which one do you like best?”

She hesitated. He waited patiently, staring at her, and she shivered, letting the covers fall to her shoulders. “I-if I tell you… you won’t hurt me, right?”

A frown dampened his smile. “Do you think I’m going to hurt you, Omega?”

The use of the title made her shiver again. Her whole body ached, the arousal becoming unbearable and only enhanced by the scent of a potent Alpha so close. “I don’t know,” she confessed.

“I told you - I won’t touch you until you ask me to,” he repeated.

“Th-the wand,” she rushed out, and his smile returned. “The kn - the other one feels too fake.”

He chuckled, tilting his head a little. “Tell me the truth, princess,” he moved closer, sitting on the bed again, this time on the opposite side, “have you ever taken a real Alpha knot in that sweet little cunt of yours?”

She couldn’t stop the whimper that escaped. “Yes,” she whispered. “Once.”

“Lemme guess,” he mused, tapping his chin with one finger. “Highschool sweetheart. Thought he was the one, only for him to pop your cherry and leave you high and dry, right?” Her gaze dropped, and he took it for confirmation, laughing lightly. “Oh, darlin’, I’m gonna blow your mind when I get inside you.”

His words were so crude, so unbecoming of a priest. No one had ever spoken to her like that and she was ashamed to find his filthy expressions arousing. “Y-you said you wouldn’t force me.”

“I won’t,” he assured her. “I told you, you’ll beg me for it.”

Faking bravado, she lifted her chin, staring at him. “How do you know?”

“Because you’ve got my scent now,” he breathed, “Omega.” She shuddered, unable to suppress it, and fresh warmth invaded the space between her thighs. “See? Just my voice makes your pussy clench, doesn’t it? How many times have you imagined me fucking you to get off?” She whimpered, breaking eye contact. “Honesty, Y/N.”

“A lot,” she rasped truthfully, because she hadn’t counted.

He grinned triumphantly. “You wanna cum right now, don’t you?” She nodded, clenching her hands in the covers. “Then pick up your little toy and make yourself cum.”

The idea of refusing floated in her mind but she was so aroused she could feel it soaking the sheets underneath her ass. Dean watched her, green eyes hungry as they fixed on her, and before she could contemplate what she was doing, she pulled one hand out from the quilt and grabbed the wand.

He sat back a little, hands in his lap. Swallowing hard, Y/N hid the wand under the covers, turning it on so he could hear it, sliding it between her thighs. It didn’t even occur to her to fake it, and when the vibrating head touched her clit through her thin panties, she whined loudly.

“That’s it,” he purred, rubbing his crotch through his black slacks. “Aren’t you warm under all that?”

Desire controlled her, overriding her common sense. She pushed the covers down, shifting so she was a little flatter before pressing the wand to her sex again. Dean was stroking himself through his pants now, watching her as she writhed against the stimulation.

“I think you’d cum quicker if you took your panties off,” he suggested.

She nodded, too lust-drunk to fight it anymore, and in a few seconds, her panties were off and across the room. Dean watched as she spread her legs, bringing the wand’s head to right where she needed it. The intense need in her core only got her to the edge quicker, and she shuddered through an orgasm under the priest’s stare, feeling shameful as the pleasure subsided.

“Did that feel good?” he asked.

“Yes,” she whimpered, legs still twitching as she pulled the wand away and turned it off. Her cunt clenched around nothing, and she squirmed, desperate to feel more friction. Dean’s gaze dropped to her slick pussy, and he bit his lip, obviously restraining himself. The realization dawned on her that she didn’t want him to show control… she wanted him to touch her. “Please,” she forced out, chest heaving and breath coming in short pants. “Touch me.”

His lips curled into a sly smile and he chuckled. “Told you so,” he murmured, reaching out to slide his hand over her knee and up her bare thigh. “But you need to be specific. Where should I touch you, Y/N?”

“M-my,” she hesitated, feeling the warmth of his hand so close to where she wanted it, “my pussy.”

He grinned. “You learn quick,” he muttered, finally cupping her sex with his hand. She groaned, unwittingly canting her hips into his palm. “Oh, you’re so wet and warm, little Omega.” A finger dipped inside her, making her mewl pitifully, but he only laughed, teasing her with a little more of it. “Tell me what you want now.”

“I want -” She stopped, licking her lips as her breathing got heavier. “I want you to make me cum.”

“Like this?” He thrust his finger into her up to the knuckle, and she cried out, clutching the sheets underneath her. “So tight too,” he groaned. “You’re going to burn me alive.”

She twisted, nodding desperately. “P-please, more.”

He fucked the single digit into her, letting her body adjust before he penetrated her with the second. Her voice became hoarse, and her cunt throbbed around him, slicking every stroke as he opened her up. His wrist twisted, allowing him to press his thumb to her clit, and her whole body trembled.

“Just opening up for me,” he praised, looking down at her hungrily as he kept his fingers moving at a steady pace. “I bet you’ll gush all over my hand, won’t you, dirty little whore Omega? Look at you, all ready to beg for what you really want.” She moaned and nodded, rocking her hips in time with his thrusts. “Wonder how hard you’ll cum with my knot stretching that perfect little cunt out? You wanna feel my seed in your belly?”

It was too much. With a hoarse shout, she came, clenching hard around his fingers as he held them deep, his thumb continuing to work at her clit until she was dripping down his wrist. She was crying with pleasure, unable to vocalize anything as she shuddered from head to toe, and when Dean pulled his hand away, her legs collapsed, leaving her in a messy heap, eyes closed and chest heaving.

She could hear him lick his fingers clean.

“What do you want now, Y/N?” he taunted, leaning over her. She whimpered, opening her eyes to look up at him.

“Want your knot, Alpha,” she keened, reaching for him.

He tisked, pulling away before she could touch him. “That’s not good enough,” he chided, shaking his head and smirking at her. “If you want it that bad, you’ll come and get it.”

“Wait,” she mumbled, pushing up onto weak arms as he walked around the bed. “Where are you going?”

“Not far,” he replied mockingly, pausing at the door. “Like I said, if you want it that bad…” He trailed off and shrugged, disappearing out of the door. Y/N scrambled to follow, reaching the doorway with only her t-shirt on, but as she stepped out into the hall, it was empty. Father Winchester was gone.

She stared, pouting at nothing. Had she imagined it in some sort of heat fever? No, she could smell him, feeling his lingering touch in her most intimate places - how could he leave her like that? He’d watched her get herself off, made her cum with the briefest of touches, and then he just… vanished?

With her climax, her heat was given a brief reprieve, and her judgment became a little less clouded. She knew what Father Winchester - Dean - was doing. It was immoral and wrong and why was she still craving him? She should have been disgusted with herself, she should have thrown him out, she should have -

But she hadn’t. She’d let him make her cum and she’d enjoyed every second of it.

Shame washed over her. She retreated back to her room, covering her face with her hands as she made a frustrated noise. All she could think about was him, all she wanted was him. It felt like he’d cursed her, when all he’d really done was talk dirty, and she’d broken like a twig.

Maybe she should let his superior know what he was doing. She was fairly certain priests weren’t supposed to seduce their parishioners, especially not with the ferocity Dean displayed. Except… except then he might be made to stop, and that tiny part of her from before was getting bigger and louder by the minute.

She dressed quickly, repeating the same cycle of thoughts in her head. They weren’t really doing anything wrong. He wasn’t the celibate kind of priest, and she was a single unmated Omega. Their only sin was sex before marriage, which she’d never exactly been big on, judging by the three guys she’d actually slept with in college.

By the time she was dressed, she almost had herself convinced. At the bottom of the stairs, she grabbed her coat and keys, pleased her mother hadn’t taken the car. When she opened the front door, she knew what she was going to do, and she was at peace with it.

The church was quiet when she pulled up, the windows sparkling in the afternoon sun. Y/N sat in her car, nibbling at her finger as she watched the door, concerned someone would see her. There didn’t seem to be any sign of life, so she climbed out, taking careful steps up to the door to try the handle. She wasn’t surprised when it opened, and she slipped inside, closing it behind her.

Inside was empty. At the far end by the altar, candles burned, and the smell of frankincense hung in the air. Moving forward, she listened out for anyone lurking, slowly heading for the front pews.

The door clicked loudly behind her. She turned, seeing Dean with his hand on the lock, and he turned his head, lips curled in another filthy smirk. His eyes were dark, almost black, she thought, but when she blinked they were normal. Dismissing it as a trick of the light, she turned to face him, unconsciously holding a breath.

“Well, well,” he chuckled, swiping a thumb across his full lower lip. “You didn’t waste any time.” He strolled towards her, bumping his hand off of each pew as he went. “It’s barely been an hour.”

She bit her lip, watching him draw closer. There was weakness in her knees, and her heart pounded in her chest so hard, she thought it might burst. Dean chuckled, slowing to a stop just within reach.

“Father Winchester,” she whispered, trying not to sink to her knees. He bared his teeth and she swallowed. “Dean.”

“Try again.”

A shuddering breath left her lips. “Alpha.”

He hummed, reaching out to grasp her chin in his fingers. “Yes?”

She knew what he wanted, what she had to say in order to get what she wanted, what her body was craving like an addict. Still, she struggled to get the words out, unused to expressing her sexual needs aloud. “I need... I need your knot,” she whimpered.

He tisked, releasing her. “Not good enough.”

Her legs gave out, and she dropped with a frustrated cry. “Please,” she wailed, “please, Alpha, I need it. Need you to knot me.” Dean groaned, palming his crotch, looking down at her hungrily. Y/N lifted her head, panting as she pleaded with him. “Need you to fuck me.”

His jaw hung half open as he tore at the buckle of his pants, pulling his half-hard cock free. Her eyes went wide at the sight of him, watching as his erection thickened and filled out, the bulge of his knot obvious at the base. “You’re learning,” he mumbled, stroking himself as he stepped closer. “Open up.”

She obeyed, kneeling a little straighter as he offered himself to her, tapping the heavy crown against her bottom lip.

“Wider.”

Her jaw ached already but she did as she was told, instinctively brushing her tongue across the weeping head. His taste was tangy on her tongue, and she swallowed it down, lifting one hand to touch him. He didn’t resist, watching with his chin tucked into his chest as she took the initiative and started to explore his shaft with her tongue.

“Keep going,” he murmured, stroking her face before cupping the side of her head. “That’s it. Good little cocksucker.”

She moaned around him, feeling her own body respond to what she was doing. Her pussy throbbed and her skin prickled with heat, and her movements became more enthusiastic, much to the Alpha’s delight.

“Take it deeper,” he instructed, and she complied, eager to please him. His cockhead nudged the back of her throat and she gagged, pulling away at the fear of throwing up. Dean stopped her going far, quickly tugging her back. “Keep trying,” he ordered. “You’ll get used to it.”

Cautiously, she opened her mouth again, feeling the weight of him on her tongue. He thrust forward a little, and she swallowed, concentrating hard to control her gag reflex. Dean moaned as she kept doing it, rocking his hips to keep up the pressure.

“Fuck, you got a sweet mouth,” he groaned. “But I bet your pussy feels even better.”

He pulled away without warning, and Y/N spluttered as she landed on her hands, gasping down air. Dean’s hand slipped around her upper arm, pulling her to her feet; she stumbled, grabbing onto him for stability. Without waiting, he tugged her toward the altar, roughly pushing her against it.

“A dress would have been better,” he commented, yanking her pants down to her ankles as she squeaked in alarm and grabbed the cloth-covered altar table. Two fingers quickly pressed against her sex, sinking into her without warning. She cried out, clutching the table, bending over without thinking. “Still so wet,” he muttered, fucking the two thick digits into her.

“Please,” she wailed, unable to take any more teasing.

“Impatient now,” he chuckled, pulling his fingers free. “Don’t worry, baby,” she heard his pants drop as the heavy belt buckle hit the floor, “gonna make you feel all better.”

He pressed in behind her, letting her feel the weight of his cock as he slid between her thighs. Holding it against her pussy, he reached around for her throat, pulling her up straight.

“Look up,” he commanded quietly. She obeyed, lifting her eyes to the wooden crucifix above them, the carved image of Christ staring back. “I want you to look at Him while you’re taking my knot.”

He pushed into her, and she cried out, digging her fingernails into her table underneath her, struggling to keep her gaze where he wanted it. His thick shaft settled deep in her warmth, creating a pressure in her belly that threatened to overwhelm her.

“Fuck,” he cursed, his grip on her throat loosening for a second. “Just as good as I imagined.”

Y/N whimpered, fighting to keep her head up as Dean started to fuck her with slow, purposeful strokes. Her hips dug into the altar with every thrust, and his hand kept a steady grip on her throat, forcing her to look into the eyes of the crucified messiah as he defiled her.

It felt too good to care.

Her first climax came quickly, and her cries bounced off of the stained glass windows, echoing around the old building. Dean didn’t slow or stop, grunting in time with the slap of his skin on hers. His other hand grabbed her breast through her shirt, squeezing without a care for how rough he was being but her only noises were of pleasure. She was getting off on the way he used her, the bruises he was bound to leave on her skin.

“You really are a sinner,” he groaned, feeling her pussy clench around him again. His hand dropped to her belly, the fingers at her throat forcing her up a little straighter. “Bet you’re ripe right now,” he murmured, close to her ear. “That empty little womb just begging to be filled.”

The thought of what he was suggesting shouldn’t have made her wetter, shouldn’t have had any effect on her at all, but she would be lying if it didn’t. Her whole body shuddered at the depravity of even thinking about carrying his spawn, and she let her eyes roll back and fall shut. Dean chuckled, slowing just a little to watch her slick cunt swallow him over and over.

“I’m gonna knot you,” he panted, palming her ass, releasing her throat as he kicked her feet apart a little wider. Her belly and breasts came flush with the altar, and he hummed when his cock stabbed a little deeper. “Oh, baby,” he purred, “you’re so ready to be filled up.” Y/N whined, pushing up onto tiptoes to stop from slipping. “I’ll give you exactly what you want.”

His hips snapped into her with more force, punching a cry from her lips. He started to fuck her hard, hard enough that she knew she’d have physical marks from the wood colliding with her hip, if not from his fingers gripping her flesh tightly. She couldn’t hope to stop herself from screaming, cumming hard as she felt his knot beginning to swell.

“That’s it, Omega,” Dean growled, slapping her ass as she clenched around him. “Fucking cum on my knot.”

With one last thrust, his knot popped, thickening inside her as warm spurts of cum filled her belly. His teeth found her throat, and in the throes of pleasure, she didn’t resist, crying out as he broke the skin and left a permanent reminder of his touch. She slumped forward when he released her, gasping through the last of her orgasm, going limp as he finished. He groaned with a low chuckle, squeezing her ass again, enjoying the last few squeezes of her warm walls around his cock.

“Wanna hear a secret?” he murmured, pulling her up and holding her there, practically impaling her on his knot. His lips brushed the shell of her ear and she shuddered, almost wheezing in his grip. “I’m no priest.”

Was he expecting her to be surprised? No priest acted the way he did.

“Then what are you?” she asked, expecting him to say anything but what came out of his mouth.

He chuckled. “I don’t think you’re ready for that, little Omega.”

How she had made it out of the church and home without anyone seeing her was a stroke of luck, and she managed to avoid her mother for the rest of the day. Her heat subsided quickly after her encounter with Dean, but she still wasn’t entirely satisfied. After their encounter, he’d disappeared without answering her questions, and every time she’d returned to the church later on in the week, there was no one there. The mark on her throat ached, and though it hadn’t been deep, she still kept it covered to avoid questions from anyone who might see it.

Shame kept her from attending church on the Sunday, having decided by that point that Dean had used her. She feigned a migraine, letting her mother take her car, and then she ate junk food in her room while watching reruns of old sitcoms on television. When her mom returned a few hours later, it was with surprising news.

“Father Taggart passed away,” Judith said after Y/N came down to see what had happened. “No one is sure what happened, only that the bishop is saying they didn’t send any replacement for Father Grayson, and no one knows what happened to Father Crowley or Father Winchester.”

“That’s strange,” Y/N mumbled, recalling Dean’s words while he’d been buried inside her. The majority of her soul was in pain at the abandonment of an Alpha - again - and that this time, he’d left something of himself inside her.

“Oh, and did I mention?” her mother continued. “Mrs. Whiting was found dead two days ago. Another mystery. Her husband is still missing.”

Judith carried on, musing over all the gossip she’d heard today, and Y/N tuned it out, trying not to pay any attention to the emotions crushing her chest. She should have been more careful, should have been wary of the handsome Alpha - she definitely shouldn’t have offered herself up to him like a brazen hussy.

She had to keep her involvement with him quiet. The last thing she wanted was attention from the police. It was easier to keep her head down and carry on, deal with her own stupidity and not let herself be fooled again.

When a few days passed, she let it sink in. A night of crying to the most tear-jerking movies she could think of, and she felt a little better. She kept going, and days turned into weeks, and Dean was a brief thought that flitted through her mind occasionally. His mark faded to an easily-disguisable scar, and she continued on with how her life had been before, ignoring the longing for excitement that he had brought her. The only change was church, despite her mother’s protests.

She never expected to see him again but she wasn’t sure she could walk back into the place where she’d let him own every part of her.

It was almost a relief when her period came. His comments about her fertility had lingered in her mind, burrowing deep until she was in a panic. But her cycle continued as it had before, and she thought she could finally forget him entirely.

She didn’t notice the black car parked along the street, didn’t recognize it at all, though she’d seen it before. She didn’t even pay attention when she saw it outside her office, or at the grocery store. It was only when she walked past it for the sixth time outside the pharmacy, and the door opened, that she finally saw who it was.

Dean stared at her over the top of the Impala, and Y/N froze on the sidewalk, feeling like time had slowed down. He smiled awkwardly, unlike the predatory smirk from before, and she frowned, tilting her head at him.

“You’re back,” she blurted out.

“Kind of,” he replied haltingly.

It had been about six weeks. She was due her heat again. “What do you want?” she asked.

“To talk.” He sounded sincere at least. “To explain.” There was something in his voice, something that tugged her forward. “You’re my Omega, Y/N.”

She took a breath, knowing without even thinking about it that she’d listen. “What if I don’t want to talk?” she challenged. “What if I don’t want an Alpha?”

Dean smiled again, but once more she noticed the difference in him. “Is that true?”

“No,” she confessed quietly.

He gestured to the passenger door. “You wanna get in?”

It felt like opening that door would lead her somewhere, and not just into this man’s arms. Whatever he had to say, she felt like she needed to hear it, that this was not only the door to his car, but the door to her future. She looked up, smiling at the bright sunny sky, then dropped her gaze back to him.

“Yeah.”

Feedback is appreciated!! Thanks for reading 😘

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #demon!dean winchester #fanfic #fanfiction #spn #supernatural #blasphemy #a/b/o #alpha/beta/omega #alpha!Dean Winchester #omega!reader

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bridgeportbritt · 4 months

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An Official Statement from Willington Palace: HM Queen Diana and HRH Prince Gerhard Announce the Birth of Their Second Child

TRH Grand Duke and Duchess of Sage gave birth to a healthy baby girl! The newest addition to the Royal family was in the early morning at the Willington Palace Medical Center which has recently been revamped. The birth went extremely well with no complications. The Grand Duke and Prince Parker were present for the birth.

HRH Princess Mia Lotte Winston De Geloes, Duchess of Sage

Princess Mia's name was chosen to honor two legendary women in the Royal family. The first being Mia's grandmother, the late Queen Margaret. The "M" in her name is meant to pay homage to Diana's mother. The "ia" in Mia is meant to honor the very first Queen of SimDonia - the late Queen Ophelia. The Queen remembers her grandmother and mother through her daughter.

Lotte is a traditional Simovian name to embrace Prince Gerhard's side. While her official last name (much like the Queen's) does not include her father's last name, she will be referred by both Winston and De Geloes.

The Princess' nursery was decorated by the same interior designer to help with Willington Palaces' major renovation. Various shade of pink and white are used throughout the room. Many toys and furniture have been based down from other family members.

So far, Princess Mia has met her uncle and aunt, King Brother Spencer and Queen Sister Elizabeth. The two will join Queen Diana and family to Simovia shortly after Winterfest where they will celebrate the Queen's birthday!

Photos shared include an all-pink picture of the new couple with baby Mia and a Winterfest photo with the whole family!

Thank you for welcoming the new princess and have a happy and healthy holiday season with your loved ones!

Of course sims was being wonky so I didn't show more of the birth! But so many cute shots! Pretend like the skin color isn't wrong and changing each time the baby is in/out the bassinet.

Parker isn't so sure about his new sibling...

Spencer and Elizabeth meet the nooboo.

Mia becomes a newborn (with blue eyes for some reason???)

I'll share more of Diana's bday party in Simovia soon!

@simoviacourt

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for-valour · 11 months

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sorry for the following solemn question, was there any story the day bertie died? the only one i that i know is that lilibet didn't know until hours later when philip broke the news to her because they were in kenya. what about queen mary, queen mum, and margaret? this come to my mind after watching https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qHXla__FEiY the way the queen mum actress runs while crying his name just broke my heart.

Thanks for your question - and really sorry it took me ages to get back to you 😣. I've written a little bit about how Margot, May and Elizabeth were all affected by Bertie's death, and I hope I'm answering this correctly!

Princess Margaret Princess Margaret was at Sandringham when her father died. She recalled hearing him laugh 'heartily at a joke he had just heard' and then go happily to bed at 10:30pm. When she learned of his passing in the morning, she was absolutely distraught. It is said that she was even prescribed sedatives to help her sleep at night, and Christopher Warwick wrote (in his 2017 biography, Princess Margaret: A Life of Contrasts) that she would frequently weep and cry out, 'Why did he have to die so young?'

A couple of months after Bertie’s death, Margaret wrote to a family friend, 'He was such a wonderful person, the very heart and centre of our happy family. Everything seemed to come from him and no-one could have had a more devoted and thoughtful father. He was always so very much alive so that at this lovely Easter time he doesn’t feel so very far away and one is comforted by all thoughts of happiness for him and his love for us all.' Even the fact that Margaret’s own funeral was held on the 50th anniversary of Bertie's death also shows just how close she held her father in her heart - right until the very end.

The Queen Mother When The Queen Mother was praised for her courage in getting through her husband’s funeral without crying, she replied: 'Not in private.' In fact, she was so heartbroken after his death that she travelled all the way to Caithness in Scotland to be allowed to mourn alone (I've actually been there and it is *very* remote). This was also the time when she discovered Castle Mey, which she bought to escape to ‘occasionally when life becomes hideous’ - which I imagine was linked to those dark days when she felt the loss of Bertie all over again.

She said in a letter to Queen Mary: 'I flew to his room and thought he was in a deep sleep, he looked so peaceful — and then I realised what had happened.' She also further confided in her mother-in-law, 'I know that you loved Bertie dearly, and he was my whole life, and one can only be deeply thankful for the utterly happy years we had together. He was so wonderfully thoughtful and loving, and I don’t believe he ever thought of himself at all… I cannot bear to think of Lilibet, so young to bear such a burden — I do feel for you so darling Mama — to lose two dear sons, and Bertie still so young and so precious — it is almost more than one can bear…'

Queen Mary Having already lost two sons (Prince John at the age of 13, and Prince George in an RAF plane crash just before his 40th birthday), the death of a third child, her beloved Bertie whom she was so close to and so proud of, deeply traumatised her. Queen Mary said to Princess Marie Louise: 'I have lost three sons through death, but I have never been privileged to be there to say a last farewell to them.' Mary herself also remarked that she spent a lot of time talking to her daughter-in-law (the grieving Queen Mother) 'of much that was in our poor tattered hearts.'

Queen Mary’s health was already struggling in the early 1950s, and it wouldn't be surprising that she suffered further after King George VI's death. The sombre photograph of her, Queen Elizabeth and The Queen Mother in mourning dress was taken whilst they were stood at King’s Cross Station in London, awaiting the arrival of Bertie’s coffin from Sandringham for the ‘Lying-in-State' at Westminster Hall. Contrary to popular belief it was not taken on the day of the funeral itself, which she was too unwell (and perhaps too distressed?) to attend.

Sources: Princess Margaret: A Life of Contrasts, by Christopher Warwick. The Queen Mother: The Official Biography, by William Shawcross. Photos: Getty, National Portrait Gallery.

#king george vi #george vi #god save the king #the british royal family #the monarchy #the british monarchy #the royal family #albert duke of york #the queen mother #queen elizabeth the queen mother #princess margaret #queen mary #queen mary of teck #the king's speech #the house of windsor #long live the king #the british empire #queen elizabeth ii

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jrob64 · 7 months

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I Loved You First - a Daddy Charming birthday fic for @kmomof4

As many of us in the CS fandom know, Krystal is the best cheerleader, encourager and flailer for our Captain Swan stories. However, she also loves the relationship between Emma and Charming, so I've written a Daddy Charming birthday story for her. l wish you the happiest of birthdays (a day early), my dear friend! Love you!

Special thanks to @cs-rylie and @snowbellewells for checking this story over and leaving lots of lovely comments and suggestions!

STORY SUMMARY: Emma and her father share some special sentiments with each other before he walks her down the aisle to marry her True Love. A canon compliant missing moment for 6X20, just prior to Emma and Killian's wedding.

RATING: G

WORDS: 1083

ALSO POSTED TO A03 and ffn

*********

David Nolan paced in the hallway outside the room where Mary Margaret was helping Emma get ready for her wedding. He could hardly believe he would be giving his daughter away in just a few minutes, and to a pirate, no less.

He remembered in Neverland when he said he would see to it that Hook would never get Emma. David wasn’t too prideful to admit he’d been wrong. Nobody can stand in the way of True Love, after all - he and Snow were proof of that.

And now that pirate, whom he’d tried so hard to hate, was his soon-to-be son-in-law…and his best friend. While Killian was earning Emma’s heart, he was also earning her father’s trust and friendship. So much so that Emma and Mary Margaret teasingly accused them of having a ‘bromance’.

The door opened and Mary Margaret emerged, brushing joyful tears from her cheeks. “She’s ready, David, and she looks absolutely beautiful!”

David pulled his wife into his arms, murmuring, “So do you, Sweetheart.”

She hiccuped a laugh. “You’re only supposed to notice the bride on her wedding day, not her mother.”

He leaned back, giving her one of his trademark smiles. “There will never be a day when I don’t admire your beauty.”

“I knew I called you ‘Charming’ for a reason,” she beamed. After kissing him soundly, she wiped his lips clean of the lipstick she’d left behind and said, “Now, go see your daughter before it’s time for us to walk her down the aisle.”

David straightened his tie and buttoned his jacket, then gently rapped his knuckles on the door. “Emma? May I come in?”

“Sure, Dad,” came her reply.

He turned the knob and slowly opened the door, peeking around the edge of it. His breath hitched when he caught a glimpse of his daughter. She was truly a vision in her wedding gown and veil, causing him to blink back tears of his own. “Oh, Emma,” he breathed.

“How do I look?” she asked nervously, twirling in a circle.

“You look…perfect,” he managed to choke past the lump in his throat.

Her cheeks flushed at his praise and she looked down at herself, smoothing out non-existent wrinkles in her gown. “Do you really think so?”

“I do,” he assured her.

“Hey, I think that’s my line today,” she giggled.

David laughed and stepped forward to take both of her hands in his. “Any second thoughts?”

“None,” she said confidently. “Besides, if I don’t marry Killian, you might just snap him up.”

“Very funny,” he said, narrowing his eyes at her. Then his expression sobered. “I know you’ve had a lot on your mind the last few weeks, but I want you to put everything aside today and just enjoy your wedding.”

“I’ll try.”

“I’ve thought about this day ever since we found out we were having a daughter. I was sure no one would ever be good enough for you, but Hoo-, um, Killian has proven himself time and time again. I suppose if I have to give your hand in marriage, it couldn’t be to a more worthy man.”

“You didn’t always think that.”

“I know, but I was, well…I was wrong.”

“I’m sure Killian would be very satisfied to hear you say that,” she quipped.

“Of course he would,” David sighed. “But enough about Hook. What about you? How are you feeling?”

Emma’s face took on a serene look. “I’m happy, Dad. Really, really happy.” She swung their still-clasped hands back and forth.

“Happiness looks good on you,” he replied, letting go with one hand and using the other to spin her around. Then he pulled her back toward him, putting his free hand on her waist as hers moved to his shoulder.

They slowly danced in a small circle around the room to music only they could hear. “We missed out on so much of your life, Emma. I’m very glad we didn’t miss out on watching you fall in love and marry the man who won your heart.”

“I know we lost a lot of time with each other, but let’s not talk about regrets today, Dad. We’re together now, along with Henry and everyone else in town. I have more family and friends here than I ever dreamed was possible. And I’m marrying a man who has been at my side without fail, even when I didn’t really want him to be.”

David chuckled. “He has proven himself to be persistent, that’s for sure.”

Their swaying came to a stop as Emma looked up into her father’s face. “You and Killian are such good examples for Henry. He’s lucky to have both of you in his life, and so am I.”

They heard the wedding music beginning to play, and David checked his watch. “I guess it’s about that time. Will you allow me to get a little sentimental before we leave this room?”

“Just don’t cause me to smudge my makeup.”

“I’ll try not to,” he promised, then took a deep breath. “Emma, from the moment your mother and I found out we would be having a baby, I wondered what our child - what you - might grow up to be like. Nothing I imagined even came close to the person you are - strong, smart, determined, brave, and so very, very beautiful. You’ve defeated dragons, ice monsters, witches, the darkness and Hades himself; yet you’re one of the most loving, generous, and kind-hearted people I’ve ever known. To say I’m proud of you doesn’t do justice to my true feelings. I love you, Emma, and I’m blessed beyond measure to be your father.”

A tear spilled over her lower lashes, and David dug into his pants pocket to retrieve a white handkerchief. After dabbing the wetness away, he tucked it back in his pocket, kissed her forehead, then pulled her into a hug, cupping the back of her head, as usual.

“I love you, too, Dad,” she whispered in his ear.

They stayed that way for several moments, until they heard a tap on the door. Mary Margaret stuck her head in, whispering reverently, “It’s time.”

David nodded and stepped back, gripping Emma’s upper arms as he looked into her eyes. “Ready, Princess?”

“Yes,” she replied firmly.

“Alright, then,” he said, “but just remember this - Killian loves you now, but I loved you first. You’ll always be your daddy’s little girl.”

“I’ll remember,” she said, a soft smile on her lips.

“Good. Now, let’s go get you married.”

*********

Please join me in wishing Krystal a very, very happy birthday!

Tagging: @hookedmom @kmomof4 @cs-rylie @qualitycoffeethings @grimmswan @wyntereyez @the-darkdragonfly @ultraluckycatnd @paradiselady19 @xarandomdreamx @motherkatereloyshipper @julesep3026 @courtorderedcake @lfh1226-linda @pawshapedheart @vampcoffeegyrl23 @tiganasummertree @captainswan4life85 @bluewildcatfanatic @eleveneitherway @elfiola @kday426 @julieenchanted-swans @gingerchangeling @andiirivera @djlbg @jonesfandomfanatic @snowbellewells @huntressandlioness1 @anmylica @booksteaandtoomuchtv @pirateherokillian @cocohook38 @ilovemesomekillianjones @laschatzi @zaharadessert @jennjenn615 @yasbio2015 @lyssapup27 @nachocheese-itsmycheese @singersdd @mie779 @undercaffinatednightmare @winterbaby89 @xsajx @jackieorioncat @teamhook @bdevereaux-blanche @soniccat @searchingwardrobes @jarienn972 @apiratewhopines @softkilly @goforlaunchcee @kymbersmith-90 @captainswan217-blog

#ouat fanfiction #a birthday story for kmomof4 #happy birthday Krystal!#daddy charming #I loved you first #jrob64 #art by jrob64 #canon compliant #missing moment for 6x20 #the cs wedding episode

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scotianostra · 9 months

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Happy Birthday to the bubbly bonnie Ashley Jensen born in Annan on August 11th 1969.

Raised single handedly by her mother Margaret, Ashley knew from an early age she wanted to be an actress. She grew up glued to British sitcoms, especially Some Mothers Do ‘Ave ‘Em with Michael Crawford as Frank Spencer. And after her mum saved up for her to attend the National Youth Theatre in London, the 16-year-old returned home determined to pursue a career on the stage.

Ashley went on to study drama at Queen Margaret University in Edinburgh before fulfilling her dream by landing roles treading the boards in London. From theatre she moved into TV, ealy roles included wee parts in City Lights and Rab C Nesbit , and a 1991 film called Tickets for the Zoo, which was set in my hometown Edinburgh, she the started racking up credits in popular dramas such as The Bill, Casualty, Clocking Off and EastEnders. Other Scottsih roles were in Taggart and Rebus.

It was her part as Ricky Gervais’ hapless sidekick in the popular Extras that was to be Ashley’s breakthrough role, though. As well as making her a household name in Britain it also gave her the opportunity to appear alongside Hollywood heavyweights such as Kate Winslet, Samuel L Jackson and Orlando Bloom, all of whom made guest appearances. The part also brought official recognition when she was named both best actress and best newcomer at the 2005 British Comedy awards - accolades which she celebrated in typical low-key fashion with a cod sandwich from a roadside chip van.

Ashley saw fame in the US follow playing the straight-talking Christina in the sitcom Ugly Betty, leading her to relocate to LA and renting a house in the Hollywood Hills. While the role was originally meant to be American, the casting agents fell in love with her Scottish accent and it stayed.

Ashley may be a star in the US now but her feet are firmly on the ground I found this quote from her “Even now I think I might never work again. I’m still a bit like that. I probably always will be, “This from one of her best friends who has a chippy in Annan speaks volumes "She has her head screwed on and won’t be changed by the star treatment.” Recalling a visit to her LA home soon after Ashley relocated, he says: “We were holding hands and jumping up and down. She was shouting, 'Can you believe it? What am I doing here?’.” Ashley’s acting career has seen in her in many shows, my faves include, Catastrophe with fellow Scot Mark Bonnar, Trust Me, with Jodie Whittaker, which was set in Edinburgh, and again with Ricky Gervais in Afterlife, as well as the comedy drama Agatha Raisin, where she plays the title role, a cotswolds-based PR guru turned amateur sleuth.

Tragedy struck for Ashley in 2017 when she discovered her husband, Terence Beesley body at the wheel of his car in the garage at their Somerset home. The couple, who met in 1999 while they were both involved in a London theatre production of King Lear, were married for ten years. A verdict of suicide was later ruled on at the coroners court.

As well as her work as an actress Ashley has narrated a couple of shows recently, Inside The Balmoral: Scotland's Finest Hotel, about the hotel that takes pride of place at number I Princes Street and The Airport: Back in the Skies about London Heathrow.

Ashley was last on our screens in the fantastic two part drama Mayflies, I am looking forward to seeing how she is in the new series of Shetland, taking over as the lead role after Dougie Henshall left.

#scotland #scottish #history #actress #Shetland #television #cinema #theatre #happy birthday

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thepastisalreadywritten · 1 year

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Letters from the late Queen Elizabeth II and Princess Margaret to their childhood riding instructors are to be auctioned in April, Tatler can exclusively reveal.

The collection includes Christmas cards, invitations, telegrams and handwritten notes from the late Queen and Princess Margaret to their riding instructors, father-and-daughter duo Horace and Sybil Smith.

It reveals a lifelong connection that started when the two young princesses first sat in the saddle.

Horace and Sybil Smith provided riding classes at Cadogan Riding School in Belgravia, an internationally famous institution fit for two young royals with a budding love of horses.

By 1938, 12-year-old Princess Elizabeth and 9-year-old Princess Margaret were attending lessons there, both being taught how to ride by the Smiths.

These lessons stayed with them for life: both the late Queen and Princess Margaret were keen riders, with the Queen riding on horseback at Trooping the Colour and remaining in the saddle into her 90s.

Both Princess Margaret and the Queen stayed in contact with their beloved riding teachers, the Smiths, throughout their lives.

Their letters show their deep affection for the instructors, along with gratitude for the lessons they taught them.

They sent Christmas cards almost every year, along with telegrams of thanks: the collection includes 30 Christmas cards from the mid 1940s until early 1990s.

Princess Margaret also sent them an invitation to her wedding to Anthony Armstrong Jones in 1960, and the Queen invited them to the Thanksgiving Service of her 25th wedding anniversary to Prince Philip in 1972 - both of which are included in the collection.

In 2016, the Royal Windsor Pageant had a re-enactment of the princesses receiving lessons from the Smiths as a tribute to the role they played in the lives of the young princesses.

On Sybil’s 90th birthday, Princess Margaret sent a letter which read:

‘Many happy returns of the day, and congratulations on your 90th birthday. I have never forgotten our happy riding lessons which resulted in many years of enjoyable times in the saddle. Have a lovely time. Love from, Margaret.’

In 1950, the then Princess Elizabeth sent Horace Smith a letter from Malta, where she was visiting Prince Philip.

She wrote:

‘I send my sincere thanks to you and Sybil for your message of good wishes for my birthday, which I much appreciate.

It is lovely out here and I have become a great polo fan - I even took it up mildly myself when I was out here last year.

It is extremely good for one’s riding, I find, as all the ponies are so quick that the unexpected turn, which they are inclined to do, has one off in a moment!’

Letters from the Queen and Princess Margaret to the Smiths were all kept by Sybil Smith, who passed them onto a friend when she died.

They are to be auctioned on 18 April 2023 by Griffin’s Auctioneers and Valuers based in Warwick.

The total estimate for whole collection is around £3000 to £5000.

Ben Griffin, director at Griffin’s told Tatler:

‘We are delighted to be able to offer this large and significant collection of correspondence from the late Queen and other members of the Royal family that were sent to Sybil and her father over the span of five decades.’

He added:

‘The Malta letter in particular gives an fascinating insight to the Queen's life during the earliest days of her marriage to The Duke of Edinburgh, a period she herself referred to as “the happiest days in her life”.’

#Queen Elizabeth II #Princess Margaret #British Royal Family #Horace and Sybil Smith #Cadogan Riding School #Royal Windsor Pageant #Prince Philip #Anthony Armstrong Jones #Malta #Griffin’s Auctioneers and Valuers

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backmaskcd · 13 days

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(Margaret Qualley) [THE CAPTAIN]. Please welcome [DELPHI TREMAINE (SHE/HER)] to Huntsville, WV. They are an [28]-year-old [VISITOR] who lives in [TOWN]. You may see them around working as a [MANAGER AT THE SASQUATCH]. Poor unfortunate soul. We’ll see if they survive.

Full Name: Delphi Amelia Tremaine Birthday: December 28 Age: 28 Hunter or Gatherer: Neither Sexuality: Pansexual Height: 5'8 Relationship Status: single

Being born first in a set of twins, Delphi took on the role of Denny's protector early in life. She often encouraged him in whatever made him happy, finding that she felt far more fulfilled watching him try things than do them herself. She never had to be embarrassed - Denny would do something, and if he failed, he just took it in stride. Delphi didn't think she could ever do anything like that.

While Denny became an internet kid, Delphi found her footing in the kitchen. She enjoyed helping their mom or dad during dinner, finding great satisfaction in watching the perfect meal be pieced together. She spent afternoons with Denny arguing over who got to watch what, and when she eventually won the dispute, she'd put on the food network, eyes bright and hopeful that some day, she'd be on there hosting her own show.

The introduction of the third Tremaine at eight was unexpected; and it's not that Delphi didn't love her baby brother, but it gave her parents less time to spend with her in the kitchen. She wasn't resentful, per se, but she wasn't happy, either, and often resigned herself to helping Denny film and roughly edit his footage. It wasn't her forte, but she took to it quickly enough.

Once in high school, Delphi took as many cooking classes as she could, thriving in the environment and even got her first job at the small diner near their house because a friend of the family owned it. She loved being in the real life kitchen there, and while she had to follow the recipes given to her, she loved having real world experience. Denny would drag her along to film him on her days off, and then she'd come home and cook whatever she felt like. Their parents rarely interfered, which was a blessing for her, and they even seemed to prefer when she cooked.

Delphi noticed, however, that Denny was changing. Despite never being that close with Camden, the two often talked about how they rarely saw their real brother anymore, often overshadowed by his YouTube persona. It was concerning, and the only thing Delphi could think of was to get Denny out of New York. She had been saving up to go to culinary school, but decided to dip into the funds to take them both on a road trip after a particularly bad break up of Denny's that left him practically despondent and forced a hiatus from his channel.

Camden was furious with them because Delphi said he couldn't come with - he was under eighteen after all, and she didn't want to responsible for her kid brother, and their parents didn't want him going either. Delphi had yelled her goodbye into the house while Denny tried to get him to come out and say a proper goodbye, but they both figured he'd be over it by the time they got back in a few weeks. Unfortunately for them, however, they found Huntsville instead.

Delphi is much quieter than her brother, and prefers watching other people than joining in herself. She's very knowledgeable when it comes to food and cooking, as well as video editing, though that's not particularly handy here. She forced herself to pick a job that wasn't the same place where Denny worked to force them both out of their shell a little bit, and while managing a bar wouldn't be her top choice, she's rather well suited or the job with her no nonsense attitude and ability to command a room. She feels some guilt for the way she left things with Camden, but if he had gotten stuck here as well and something had happened to him, Delphi never would have forgiven herself.

#huntsvilleintro

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heavenboy09 · 5 months

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Happy Birthday 🎂 🥳 🎉 🎈 🎁 🎊 To You

The Beautifully & Dedicated Radiant MultiTalented Canadian Actress 🇨🇦 In Many Genres Of Cinema 🎥 Since 2002

McAdams was born on November 17, 1978 in London, Ontario, Canada, to nurse Sandra (née Gale) and truck driver Lance McAdams. She grew up in St. Thomas in a Protestant household.

She is a Canadian actress. After graduating from a theatre degree program at York University in 2001, she worked in Canadian television and film productions, such as the drama film Perfect Pie (2002), for which she received a Genie Award nomination, the comedy film My Name Is Tanino (2002), and the comedy series Slings and Arrows (2003–2005), for which she won a Gemini Award.

In 2002, she made her Hollywood film debut in the comedy The Hot Chick. She rose to fame in 2004 with the comedy Mean Girls and the romantic drama The Notebook. In 2005, she starred in the romantic comedy Wedding Crashers, the psychological thriller Red Eye, and the comedy-drama The Family Stone. She was hailed by the media as Hollywood's new "it girl", and received a BAFTA Award nomination for Best Rising Star.

After a brief sabbatical, she returned to prominence in 2009 by appearing in the political thriller State of Play, the romance The Time Traveler's Wife, and the mystery film Sherlock Holmes. In 2010, she appeared in the star vehicle comedy film Morning Glory, and starred in Midnight in Paris (2011), The Vow (2012), and About Time (2013). In 2015, she starred in the second season of the HBO anthology crime drama series True Detective, and portrayed journalist Sacha Pfeiffer in the drama Spotlight. For the latter, she was nominated for the Academy Award for Best Supporting Actress. This was followed by roles in the superhero film Doctor Strange (2016) and its sequel Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness (2022), the romantic drama Disobedience (2017), the comedies Game Night (2018) and Eurovision Song Contest: The Story of Fire Saga (2020), and the comedy-drama Are You There God? It's Me, Margaret. (2023).

Please Wish This Radiant & Dedicated Canadian Actress Of Loveable & Iconic Movies Of The Early 2000's , A Very Happy Birthday 🎂 🥳 🎉 🎈 🎁 🎊

You Know Her

You Love Her Rom Com & Drama Movies 🎥

& She Keeps The Lovely Acting of Romance Still Going

The 1 & Only

MS. RACHEL ANNE MCADAMS 🇨🇦❤

HAPPY 45TH BIRTHDAY 🎂 🥳 🎉 🎈 🎁 🎊 TO YOU MS. MCADAMS & HERE'S TO MANY MORE YEARS TO COME

#RachelMcAdams

#Rachel McAdams #Spotify

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grandmaster-anne · 2 years

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Andrew Parker Bowles: Her Majesty’s enduring love of dogs and horses

In 1995, Her Majesty was heard to remark that the worst aspect of the Parker Bowles divorce was that she had got Danny back. Danny was a corgi given to Camilla and me by the Queen in the early 1990s. She had previously given us a corgi called Windsor Flame who was wonderful, intelligent and brave. Danny had none of these qualities. He was short in looks, legs and temper. After the divorce he returned to Windsor, where he spent the rest of his life, very happy, in the care of Mrs Nancy Fenwick, who was unofficially the keeper of the Queen’s dogs. I came to realise how much the Queen’s dogs meant to her, how much she loved them and how very knowledgeable she was about them. She owned more than 30 corgis during her lifetime. Animal psychologist Dr Roger Mugford, after watching Her Majesty feed her dogs, each in turn, eldest first, wrote: ‘There is barely anyone on the planet who could achieve that control over their dogs.’ Princess Elizabeth’s first dog was given to her by her father as a seventh birthday present. It was a Pembrokeshire corgi named Dookie. Corgis are Welsh cattle-herders by nature and are known as ‘heelers’ for their tendency to nip at the heels of the cattle to keep them moving. Human ankles can be a substitute for cattle hooves, as many a royal footman discovered. Her Majesty’s favourite corgi was said to be Susan, who after the Queen’s wedding was hidden under a carriage rug and taken by her owner from Buckingham Palace to Broadlands for her honeymoon. When Susan died, her gravestone read: ‘Susan, for almost 15 years the faithful companion of the Queen.’

‘Dorgis’ became members of the Queen’s pack as a result of an unofficial friendship between the Queen’s corgi Tiny and Princess Margaret’s miniature dachshund. The Queen was so delighted with the resulting puppies that many more dorgis were born. Although Her Majesty never shot game, she delighted in working her labradors. Bill Meldrum (who was her gun-dog trainer and head keeper at Sandringham) was, like the Queen, very competitive. Their most successful labrador was the famous Sandringham Sydney, who won the gundog trophy at the Game Fair in 1972, 1974 and 1975. He was also pretty smart on the breeding front, covering 77 bitches in one year. In the 1980s, the royal kennels branched out into working cocker spaniels and, with Mr Meldrum in charge, they had many more competition successes.

Her Majesty’s love of dogs was only matched by her love of horses. Her first pony, a small Shetland named Peggy, was a present from her grandfather, King George V, when she was four. She went on to breed a huge equine range, from small fell ponies to vast army drum horses for the Household Cavalry. According to John Warren, the Queen’s bloodstock and racing adviser: ‘Her Majesty developed a deep profound knowledge which she consistently worked on throughout her life.’ I suspect the following Grade 1 winners would be high on her list of favourites: Aureole, Doutelle, Highclere, Carrozza and Estimate, a beautiful bay mare who won the Ascot Gold Cup in 2013, making Her Majesty the first reigning monarch to win it.

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The Queen also had a great ability to see a foal, then recognise the same racehorse years later. Her knowledge of breeding was second to none and the wellbeing of her horses was very important to her. Emma Balding – whose father, husband and son all trained for Her Majesty – told me that after Magna Carta, a Royal Ascot winner, became entangled in his hay net and had to be put down, the Queen decided that none of her horses would ever have hay nets again. Once, at Polehampton, a large group of yearlings galloped flat-out towards her and her group. A couple of men panicked and dashed to the nearest railings, but the Queen told those left to stand stock-still and all would be well. And so it was. A wise and brave decision. Unlike some racehorse owners, the Queen was very loyal to her trainers through thick and thin. She also always made sure that her horses had a happy retirement. She was a keen supporter of the charity Retraining of Racehorses and was delighted when her first registered ex-racehorse, Barbers Shop, won a prize – a rosette and a £50 Tesco voucher – in a RoR showing class. There were, of course, many other horses the Queen was especially fond of. Burmese was a present from the Royal Canadian Mounted Police and she rode her side-saddle at the Trooping the Colour for 18 years. Doublet was bred to be a polo pony, but in the very capable hands of Princess Anne won the European Eventing Championship at Burghley in 1971. Up until last year, Her Majesty still rode Emma, a fell pony, in Windsor Great Park.

The Queen took a great interest in, and had a deep knowledge of, the Household Cavalry and the King’s Troop, and if a soldier or horse got anything wrong, she noted it and the word would come down the command chain. On a state visit, Major Ronald Ferguson, riding next to the rear carriage wheel, let his horse get too far forward. ‘Major Ferguson,’ she told him, ‘the crowd has come to see me, not you.’ Despite the Queen’s strong love for dogs and horses, the belief – occasionally implied by commentators over the years – that she cared more about animals than people is nonsense. On 20 July 1982, that horrific day when the IRA blew up the Queen’s Life Guard in Hyde Park, I was the commanding officer of the Household Cavalry Mounted Regiment. Her Majesty telephoned me that evening to commiserate. I probably banged on rather too much about the seven dead horses, and not enough about the four dead soldiers. ‘Remember you can buy more horses,’ she said, ‘but you can’t buy young soldiers.’ Our late beloved sovereign, as always, got it right. We will not see her like again. May she rest in peace, ideally surrounded by dogs and horses.

Written by: Andrew Parker Bowles, 17 September 2022, The Spectator

#queen elizabeth ii #tributes #andrew parker bowles #article #Youtube

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mi4011minadigajaweera · 1 year

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Craig McCracken - further research

His Career and Work

In 1993, Craig was recruited by Hanna-Barbera Cartoons (now Cartoon Network Studios) to work as an art director on the series 2 Stupid Dogs, but as his first job in the animation industry, he was never really happy with how that show worked.

While McCracken was working at Hanna-Barbera, studio president Fred Seibert started a brand new project: an animation incubator with 48 brand new cartoons that are each about seven minutes long. What a Cartoon!, as it was known, inspired McCracken to continue working on his Whoopass Girls! idea from his work at CalArts. He recalled that the network could not market a show with the word "ass" in it, so two of his friends came up with name ‘The Powerpuff Girls’ as a substitute for the original title.

As a backstory note how it all started, in June 1991, McCracken was in his first year in the character animation program of CalArts and drew three girls with large eyes, visually inspired by the paintings of Margaret Keane on a small sheet of orange construction paper as a birthday card design for his brother.

His new work with a refined plot, "The Powerpuff Girls in: Meat Fuzzy Lumkins", premiered on February 20, 1995, on Cartoon Network's World Premiere Toons, along with its follow-up, "Crime 101", which aired on January 28, 1996. The first short to be picked up by the network was Tartakovsky's Dexter's Laboratory, which McCracken contributed to in the early seasons.

The fourth cartoon to greenlit a full series was McCracken's Powerpuff Girls. It premiered as a short in 1995 and debuted on November 18, 1998 as full half-hour episodes that was aired until its final episode on March 25, 2005. The Powerpuff Girls aired on Cartoon Network for six seasons, three specials, and a feature film, with the final episode airing on March 25, 2005. A total of 78 episodes were aired in addition to two shorts, a Christmas special, the film, a tenth anniversary special, and a special episode using CGI technology. Various spin-off media include an anime, three CD soundtracks, a home video collection, comic books, a series of video games, a 2016 reboot series, and an upcoming second reboot, as well as various licensed merchandise.

The series has been nominated for six Emmy Awards, nine Annie Awards, and a Kids' Choice Award during its run.

In 2002, McCracken also directed The Powerpuff Girls Movie, a prequel to his series. Although the film received generally positive reviews, unfortunately it was a box office failure.

Leaving The Powerpuff Girls after four seasons, McCracken focused on his next project; Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends. He created this series with his wife Lauren Faust and Mike Moon and it premiered on Cartoon Network with the 90-minute television special "House of Bloo's" on August 13, 2004. The show also won Emmy and Annie awards and ran for six seasons, all directed by McCracken, ending on May 3, 2009.

He became the executive producer of The Cartoonstitute; a brand-new Cartoon Network showcase project, in April 2008. He left Cartoon Network in 2009 after 17 years of employment when the network began to emphasize on live-action and reality shows. In August 2013, he created Wander Over Yonder for Disney Television Animation and Disney Channel. Following the cancellation of Wander Over Yonder, McCracken pitched Disney a new show based on his 2009 comic strip The Kid from Planet Earth. The concept was later dismissed by Disney, and in 2017 he finally departed the company. After presenting his idea to Netflix, Kid Cosmic was selected as the working title. On February 2, 2021, the show made its debut, and it aired till February 3, 2022.

It marks McCracken's return to the superhero genre after The Powerpuff Girls and the first of his original works to include a serialized style. He pitched Netflix with 10 proposals in August 2021, however due to Netflix Animation's huge layoffs, he eventually left in April 2022.

On July 18, 2022, it was revealed that McCracken will make two reboots at Hanna-Barbera Studios Europe of the Powerpuff Girls and Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends.

McCracken was also awarded the Winsor McCay Award in 2023 for his "unparalleled achievement and exceptional contributions to animation" at the Annie Awards ceremony.

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thecrownnet · 1 year

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The Crown Season 6

10 Events That May Become Plotlines In Season 6 (ScreenRant Nov 29, 2022)

Two years after its fourth season bowed in November of 2020, The Crown returned to Netflix on Nov. 9, 2022 for its highly anticipated fifth season. Following its pattern of swapping in a new cast of actors every two seasons, this one features the debuts of Elizabeth Debicki, Jonathan Pryce, Imelda Staunton and Dominic West as the main characters.

The fifth season follows into the 1990s the turbulent history of the British royal family during Queen Eilizabeth II's reign, including the souring relationship and divorce of Prince Charles and Princess Diana. The coming sixth season is set to be the series' last, and while The Crown is a fictionalized version of true events, certain crucial happenings of the late 1990s and early 21st century are likely to come in the show's final episodes.

***SPOILERS***

Princess Diana’s Death (1997)

Princess Diana's tragic 1997 death in Paris remains one of the most poignant and sensitive moments in modern history, and The Crown is guaranteed to depict this sobering event that changed British royalty forever. However, according to the New York Daily News, it will not show the actual car crash but instead the days leading up to Diana's death and the heart-wrenching days that followed it.

This important moment will come at the beginning of the sixth season, according to Marie Claire. Filming began in September 2022, with season five stars Dominic West (Prince Charles) and Elizabeth Debicki (Princess Diana) capturing the last lonely and torrid days of her life.

Prince Edward And Sophie Rhys-Jones' Wedding (1999)

The royal wedding of Prince Edward to the Duchess of Wessex, Sophie Rhys-Jones, took place in June 1999, and it's likely to feature in The Crown's sixth season, especially because it is the last "first" wedding of Queen Elizabeth II's children.

The simplicity and lack of scandal surrounding Prince Edward’s wedding is important as a plot line because it illustrates a stark and dramatic contrast to the public debacle of Prince Andrew’s divorce from Sarah Ferguson in 1996 Prince Charles' and Princess Diana's messy split.

The Queen Mother’s 100th Birthday (2000)

To illustrate the longevity and permanence of the British royal family, it's likely the 100th birthday of the Queen Mother in 2000 will appear as a story in the sixth season of The Crown.

The Queen Mother was honored by a 41-gun salute and greeted by thousands of fans who descended on the mall of Buckingham Palace to offer their birthday felicitations on her 100th birthday. Flanked by her daughters Queen Elizabeth and Princess Margaret, she stood on the balcony accompanied by the rest of the royal family. Narratively, this rare moment of happiness and tranquility ciykd stand in contrast to the turmoil the royal family endured through the '90s.

Prince William's First Encounter With Kate Middleton (2001)

According to E! News, Netflix has confirmed casting Ed McVey and Rufus Kampa as Prince William and the actress Meg Ballamy as a young Kate, who will appear in the final season of The Crown. Following the timeline of actual events, it's plausible the season will focus on their meeting at the University of St. Andrews in 2001.

With the sixth season focusing largely on the tragedies of the royal family starting with the sad death of Princess Diana, the story of William and Kate's young love and the promise of the future would serve as a welcome, hopeful counterpoint.

Princess Margaret's Death (2002)

The sister of Queen Elizabeth II, the always quotable Princess Margaret holds an important place in the storyline of The Crown just as she held an important place in the royal family in real life. Her diminishing role as a royal and inability to marry her first love, Peter Townsend, led to a tumultuous relationship with the queen. Yet their sisterly bond is featured heavily in the fifth season and could be further explored in the show's last episodes.

Based on the series' depictions of Margaret so far, fans can anticipate the story of her final days will be told in a standalone episode. According to the Daily Express, Princess Margaret suffered three strokes between 1998 and 2001, with her final stroke taking her life in 2002. Queen Elizabeth cried at Margaret’s funeral, "the only time anyone ever saw the Queen show her emotions in public," as Vanity Fair put it.

Prince Charles And Camilla Parker-Bowles' Wedding (2005)

An inevitable arc of The Crown's sixth season is the 2005 marriage of Prince Charles to his first love, Camilla, tying the knot 35 years after they met. The wedding of Charles and Camilla is significant in the royal family's story, given the role their romance played in the demise and fallout of Prince Charles’s first marriage to Princess Diana.

The simple civil ceremony, which was held in real life at the Windsor Guildhall per the BBC, would offer viewers the necessary moment of pause to reflect on history and how it all played out for the heir apparent, Prince Charles.

Queen Elizabeth II's 80th Birthday (2006)

The early 2000s held many high points for the British monarchy, including Queen Elizabeth II's 80th birthday, celebrated across the United Kingdom and the Commonwealth.

If The Crown depicts this milestone birthday, it could use the event to explore the loyalty of a country to its monarch, in particular Prince Charles, masterfully played by Dominic West. On the happy occasion, Charles notably lauded his mother's lifetime of service and dedication to the country, addressing her warmly at the time as his "darling Mama," according to the Daily Mirror.

Queen Elizabeth II And Prince Philip’s 60th Wedding Anniversary (2007)

Played superbly by Imelda Staunton, Queen Elizabeth II was the first British monarch to celebrate a diamond wedding anniversary. Per Reuters, this event was celebrated with much pomp as the royal couple revisited Westminster Abbey to renew their vows, including German relations who had not been to their 1947 wedding given the strong anti-Nazi sentiment after World War II.

Peter Morgan could use this historical family moment to illustrate the staying power of the British crown though its very foundation had been rocked with tragedy and scandal within the decade and forced to face the pressures of a changing world.

Tony Blair's Premiership (1997–2007)

Tony Blair's tenure as prime minister will no doubt feature in the sixth season of The Crown. Blair played a pivotal role in steering the royal family to steadier waters when the royal establishment was under question following the tragic death of Princess Diana. In an interview with Today, Blair reminisced that the queen "understood, because always her duty came first, that she had to respond to this extraordinary outpouring of grief about Princess Diana."

Peter Morgan depicted these events previously in his movie The Queen, so if he tackles the subject again, he'd likely show it from different narrative angles or use it to color his depiction of the royal family in new ways. Deft handling of this overlap in history between the film and the TV series could enhance both works.

Prince William And Kate Middleton's Wedding (2011)

The last season of The Crown likely won't touch on very recent events such as Prince Harry and Meghan Markle leaving the royal family behind them, but it may allude to the future wedding of the next heir apparent, Prince William.

In a show that has observed the bloodline of the house of Windsor since King George V, the creators will likely want to leave fans with a glimmer of hope and anticipation for the future. Alluding to a royal match between Princess Diana's elder son and his longtime girlfriend Kate Middleton would bring not only bring a sense of aspiration but a fitting transition to what the modern monarchy might become.

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fmallan · 2 years

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madison beer. she/her. cisfemale. ›spotted at the met steps , full name Francesca ‘Frankie’ Blu Mallan , most likely listening to dear god by nessa barrett with their airpods pro . the twenty four year old gained quite a reputation , known to be -volatile yet +whimsical to anyone who knows them . you'll easily spot them when you hear about wearing a perfectly curated pajama set to bed every night, watching the sunrise over the city while huddled up with a bottle of champagne after a long, fun night out, candlelit hallways in penthouse apartments with window walls, and pinky promises being the be all end all , followed by carolina herrera’s very good girl . latest nepoupdates article talks about frankie sneaking out of the back entrance of paris’ hottest nightclub hand-in-hand with a handsome model while on her other arm she was doting an unknown female before the trio ducked into a blacked out SUV , but i guess any reputation is good reputation . ( ooc v , 26 , she/her , mountain , n/a . muse k & subplot # 5 . )

name: francesca blu mallan

age: 24

bday: leo sun, 8/10/98

nicknames: frankie, blu, frankie blu, franks, chesca

family background: being born into the mallan family was quite the honor in an america that is, or once was, shaped by old hollywood; frankie’s grandmother was lana haynes (think natalie wood, ann-margaret, jayne mansfield vibes), academy award winner and world renowned old hollywood starlet while her grandfather happened to be fredric mallan, one of the most famous filmmakers in the industry during the 1950s throughout the 70s. the pair had three children together, one of which was their oldest who carried on the name of fredric mallan but as a young boy he decided to go by freddie which later became one of the greatest names in rock ’n roll during it’s onset era of the 1980s up until his most recent retirement in 2017. freddie mallan had been touring with his band (think like aerosmith or motley crue or nirvana type fame) over in europe when he met english supermodel sofia austin. the pair had an extremely whirlwind romance marrying only after knowing one another for 111 days. two years after their marriage, on their wedding anniversary, the couple announced they were expecting a baby girl. francesca blu mallan was born august 8, 1998 at 6:13 am in manhattan to the extremely happy parents.

sexuality: bisexual

living quarters and situation: she lives alone in a condo bought by her father for her on her 21st birthday.

living history: she was born & raised in new york city, but with her family being made of parents from different continents, the girl also frequently spent time in the united kingdom, as well as france, italy, and greece. her family has homes in aspen, colorado; paris, france; amalfi coast, italy ( and obviously in nyc, too )

occupation: socialite and musician

personality traits:

(+)whimsical, playful, masterful, romantic

(-)volatile, vengeful, arrogant, impatient

likes: sunglasses in the club, late nights/early mornings, tea before bed, music at all times of any day, sunshine bouncing off the pool ripples

dislikes: hostility, dishonesty, breaking pinky promises, the fact restaurants throw out their food at the end of the night rather than donate to a shelter, animal testing

favorite movies: lords of dogtown, almost famous, mr & mrs smith, fight club, elvis

tv shows: the oc, one tree hill, sopranos, rick & morty, what i like about you

playlist embodying my baby g ( it's a private playlist but lmk if the link doesn't work n u rly want it )

here is a lil vision board for her

pets: golden doodle named jagger; maltipoo named cobain; pomeranian named page/jp for jimmy page

#nepofm.intro

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entrepy · 1 year

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happy birthday to Doctor Margaret Elizabeth "Peggy" Carter, Ph.D and also wife @agentcrter .

The 9th of April rolls around like most other Sundays, birds singing from the trees that shroud their home, the California sun casting warmth and light into their bedroom despite the early hour. Steve has left his early morning schedule of waking up before the sun behind. That had been a constructed routine to preserve his sanity while his life threatened to fall apart around him, and now, there was no such need.

Steve reaches out beneath the sheets, and finds what he’s searching for — circling his arm around Peggy’s waist and sidling in close behind, his hand sliding down to rest on her growing belly, where it gravitates to most of the time these days. There is some navigating required past her curls, but he eventually finds the slope between neck and shoulder, and presses a soft kiss there. ‘ Happy Birthday, Peggy. ’

He makes room as she turns from her side to her back, and he welcomes her with another kiss, this time placed on her lips, fingers skimming over her waist and hips. Steve had spent a long time mourning these moments. Moments that he’d never experienced, but felt the loss of like he’d lost a life. Now, they come flooding in, second by second, day by day. His life should feel like a dream, but it’s the most real that it’s felt in decades. Peggy warm and solid beside him, surrounded by subtleties like the smell of soap and pollen, the sound of birds and neighbours chattering that his imagination could never have come up with. A gold ring on her finger, a matching one on his, their baby about to enter the world in a few months time. No, there was no way Steve would have been able to dream this up.

‘ I’ve got a little agenda for today, ’ he says, cheeky and shy at the same time as he pulls out a small hardcover journal from under his side of the bed. He removes the ribbon marking the page and hands it over to Peggy.

The first page has the words ‘ MRS PEGGY CARTER-ROGERS' 29th BIRTHDAY, 04.09.50 ’ in Steve’s fanciest handwriting in the centre, surrounded by petals of her favourite flower pressed on the page. Each page from there shows a sketch of Peggy doing exactly what Steve has planned out for the rest of the day, with a few blank pages here and there because Steve knows better than anyone that life is unpredictable and even the best laid plans can go awry — sometimes for the better.

There is a page of Peggy in bed, and Steve is half sketched in as well, his hands handing her the journal as he’d done just moments before. There is a drawing of the pair of them on the tandem bicycle that Steve had picked up from a yard sale last month, Peggy’s red and white polka-dot dress Steve had gotten dry cleaned last week whipping around her calves, one hand holding onto a sunhat, the other on Steve’s waist. The same page has a drawing of Peggy eating breakfast by the ocean front.

The second last page filled in the book was of a dinner, the table of food and Peggy’s face illuminated by candles that seem to flicker right off the page. And the last page . . . The last page alone ensures the small journal shall never be opened by anyone apart from the either of them.

The both of them, in their every day, are making decisions that will impact the world. Steve’s plan for the day had been mostly about allowing Peggy to shut off that part of the brain — to trust, and rely on Steve for what was next, and still have it be enjoyable, and hell, maybe even spoil her a little along the way with gifts drawn only as giftboxes to preserve the surprise. He was probably the only person who knew her well enough to even have a chance of pulling it off.

He takes the book from her, before she can balk too long at that last page. Even he’s blushing a little about it, despite being the one who had spent six hours in total drawing it to infinite detail. ‘ What do you say, Mrs Rogers ? Ready for your big day out ? ’

#agentcrter #ic ft. steve.#i love them an embarrassing amount #interactions ft. steve & agentcrter.

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justheretolurkonevajacks · 2 years

Text

A scorned Phoenix

ROXY

As usual, I had slept in and missed out on whatever exciting trip Gwen had been taken on by Gabriel. After more than a decade, both had given up on making me do anything early in the morning. As a matter of fact, I was biologically incapable of happiness before 10 A.M.

There was an exception. But that day - of all days - wasn't the time to linger on that thought. Max and his insufferable scaly companions were around the manor and even if I had the strongest mental shield in the realm, I was never fast enough. Last night, Max had caught on the disappointment I hadn't been able to banish all day, even after forcing Gabriel to offer me an extra-training session with all the threats of royal calibre I wasn't old enough to make.

The moment Gabriel had encouraged me, saying that soon I would even be faster than him, that obnoxious feeling had settled in again and I had barely touched anything at dinner.

Pathetic.

I didn't need him.

I had Gwen, and Gabriel, and Geraldine, and Caleb, and Max, and Seth, and even if besides Gwen, all of them were unbearable to be around at least twice a day, at least none of them had ever made me want to carve their eyes out.

As if I answering the silent summoning, a blur sprang the door open and Caleb rolled in front of me, his blonde locks dishevelled and a blush on his cheeks. "I'm still working on adjusting to the speed" he panted, still sprawled on the floor. I realized I hadn't even wasted a giggle on his entrance - had he taken the joy out of making fun of Altair, too? I shook the thought away, rising from the sofa I had been meditating on - and when did I ever meditate? was I ill? - and shrugged. "I admit, for a moment I thought you were Seth. Rolling around is kind of his thing".

Caleb immediately stood up. "Yes, Seth. Have you seen him, lately?"

"Not today".

"And what about Darius?"

"What about him?" I replied way too fast, turning so that he didn't catch me frowning.

"Apparently, he had an eventful birthday". His expression darkened. "You don't know?"

"By all the stars in the sky, why would I know? It's not like we're BFFs or anything". But even as I said it, I could feel the fire starting to build inside me. I had to be careful, or I would never hear the end of it. To feign indifference, I started playing with the air that had started flooding in from the corridors, twirling it around the room in tight coils that could have easily snapped any fae's neck who was suicidal enough to threaten me.

Not that I ever recurred to such drastic methods - the right degree of suffocating could go a long way.

I preferred fire, anyways.

The moment I let that thought in, a curtain caught flames. "Damn the stars" I whispered, as Caleb's heightened senses sought the source of the burning smell. "On edge, sweetheart?"

"Just bored". I quenched the fire with a drop of water. "What were you saying?"

"We were talking about Darius".

"You were talking about Darius" I corrected. "What has the lizard done, this time? Do we need to humble him again? Perhaps like that summer we stole his golden chains, knowing that he would be stuck looking for them all night? We won the Pitball game the next day".

"That was kind of cheating".

"Not if we hadn't agreed on when the playing started". Darius had been mad, but he had ended up flying it off because he was ten and I was nine and he wasn't about to fight someone whose order hadn't emerged yet. The first genuine smile in almost 34 hours tugged at the corners of my lips. "Fine. It might've been a little cheating, but it's not like he's above it either".

A dangerous glint danced in Caleb's eyes. "He most definitely isn't".

"So?"

"He kissed Margaret the night before his birthday".

I tightened the grip on my powers. "And? Why would I care?"

"A full-on make out session. I don't think he had ever done it with anyone else before".

"Once again, why would I care?"

"Because... Well..." Caleb might've continued, if I hadn't shot him a glare that spoke louder than a thousand warnings. "I mean, I wouldn't have turned down Marguerite either. She's become so hot last summer" he changed course. Wise.

I snorted. "I mean, there's little that thirteen-year-old fae males would turn down. You'd make out with a tree if it grew lips and boobs".

"That's true. To be honest, I'm surprised that Darius hadn't done it yet. Dark and brooding is in style right now".

"Dark and brooding is always in style" I corrected him. "I had three Fae males begging to spend time with me just yesterday. Darius isn't special".

"Oh, I know that, sweetheart". Caleb looked at me for a while without saying anything, as if taking me in all over again. "You do look especially dashing, today, lady Roxayna" he imitated Justin Masters, the most insistent of my suitors.I had to admit it, Altair knew how to make me smile even in my darkest hour. "Stop it". I tried to hide a giggle, punching his arm. For a moment, our gazes locked. "Your eyes..." Caleb breathed. "There's fire in them. Almost like--" He halted. "Doesn't matter".

But I knew who he was talking about. The image of Marguerite and Darius appeared in front me, a vision too clear for my liking. "I heard that blonde, angelic assholes are back on trend, too" I whispered, so close that his untrained fangs came out. "Not enough for me to give you a taste of that, though".

Caleb didn't move, but his teeth went back to normal. "Not even if I beg, sweetheart?"

"Not even if you beg".

I pandered what to do long enough for Margaret's face to flash in front of me. Darius thought he could hurt me – by not showing up on his birthday, by making out with a shallow social climber instead – but he didn't know that I liked playing too. I let Caleb's lips brush against mine, inviting him in.

And just like that, I was exploring Altair’s mouth, relishing in how purely physical it was – and as I did it, I pictured a pair of dark eyes burning with flames that mirrored mine.

DARIUS

I still remembered the night that I had first turned into a dragon. It had happened sooner than most expected, even before Caleb, Max and Seth, who had been awakened at nine like me.

I wished that I didn't have to associate being a Dragon to Lionel - I hadn't called him father in a long time - because it didn't matter how well-meaning most Dragons were, the memories of Lionel still lingered in the eyes of anyone that crossed mine, and confirming that I shared his Order wouldn't have made it better.

However, that morning when I had discovered that I was a Dragon I hadn't felt entrapped in Lionel's heritage. I had felt free.

After a few attempts, I had managed to stay off the ground and by the dawn of the next day, I felt more Dragon than Fae. I had been soaring across the sky, bathing in the pale sunlight above, and I had wished to never touch the ground again.

Even if Mother never said it out loud, I knew that she no longer took any joy from flying - Lionel had broken that, too. Her lessons had been out of duty, more than out of true pleasure. In a different world, I wouldn't have been flying alone that morning.

Looking back, I couldn't remember how I had decided to tap on Roxy's window. Perhaps it hadn't even been conscious. Perhaps it had been luck.

As if haunted by a shadow, I had fled loneliness to defend that perfect illusion of happiness that had seemed unending, and I had ended up by her window. And the loneliness had shrieked backwards.

Even through the curtains, I could see that Roxy was sleeping. Her dark hair was sprawled on the pillow, her palm on her eyes as if attempting to cover them from sunlight.

She looked beautiful.

I thought it was impossible, but through the eyes of the Dragon it seemed like all of the details that made her Roxy were more carefully drawn. The differences between her and Gwen, that to me were clear but undetectable as a Fae, were starking. Her skin, that was slightly darker, and the shape of her eyebrows, that seemed more capable of frowning than Gwen's, and the shape of her upper lip, that exhibited a harsher cupid bown in comparison to her sister's. I hadn't known whether she would've shouted at me to leave her alone - Roxy despised doing anything before 10 A.M. - but had been overcome with an emotion that I couldn't yet name and I had needed to wake her up.

Because she needed to see. Because she would've understood.

I tapped on the window, clumsily beating with the tip of my head. I hadn't quite figured out the proportions, so I had sprang it open and a gust of wind had entered the room. Roxy had startled awake, her eyes wide open. "What the-"

I had turned back into Fae, rolling inside - not the most graceful entrance. "Darius". She had looked at me in awe. No one had looked at me with such untainted pride, after learning that I was a Dragon.

"You emerged".

"Yes".

"If it wasn't your birthday, knowing you can fly I would've pushed you out of the window already. Are the birds even awake yet?"

"Nice to know you wouldn't kill me, given the chance".

"I first need to beat you like Faes do. I know that I'll have at least three elements when I'm Awakened next month".

Roxy had glanced at me with a challenge in her eyes and I had wished that I could fight with her already. It would've been different than with Caleb, or Seth, or Max. I wasn't sure I would've ever wanted to fight again with anyone else.

"Perhaps".

"You won't be able to show your face around for days afterwards. Caleb will make fun of you to death, Seth will never let it go, and you'll have to fleed the Realm". Roxy wanted to get a rise out of me, but I was still thinking about flying and I wasn't sure that I had ever actually touched the ground. She seemed to realize it too, because her taunting look softened. "You seem different".

"I am".

"How does flying feel?"

"Like..." Her curious eyes peered into mine, as if she didn’t need me to answer at all. "Like freedom".

We had stayed silent for a while, as if absorbing what I had just said. Then, she had broken the quiet – as she usually did.

"I wonder if I'll fly, too". She looked outside the window, a crushing longing in her eyes.

"I know you will".

I didn't know why I had said it - she had equal chances of turning out to be a Hydra - but there was a side of me that had never doubted that I'd share the sky with her.

But I hadn't wanted to wait.

"Fly with me".

"What?"

"Fly with me," I offered her a hand. "You can ride on my back, I won't drop you".

"Isn't there some snobbish Dragon code against it?"

"I don’t care".

I wasn't sure if I'd break it for anyone else, but I knew I didn't want Dragons to be what Father had wanted them to be - lonely creatures, destined to reign alone a step above all else. I had wanted her up there with me, I had wanted her to feel as unchained as I had felt. We had walked outside, as I created a silence bubble around us. Roxy had made a show of considering whether turning me down, but I knew her well enough to have seen through her act.

Since then, it had become a birthday tradition. I had showed up on the same day, at dawn, when I turned eleven, and then again at twelve, and I had intended to do the same when I turned thirteen until Marguerite had taken initiative and stolen what I thought belonged to Roxy. She had never laid such claims on me, but for the first time in four years, I wasn't sure if I could still ask her to fly with me. Would have she smelled Marguerite on me? Did it even matter that I took her flying, when these days she could do it so well by herself? Did she even care?

I circled the castle three times, reliving the memory of that first time again and again, as if Marguerite making out with me could make it vanish.

I had taken her flying for hours, until Solaria had started to wake. The noise should have been able to touch us, but it hadn't.

ROXY

I spat in the sink again, attempting to wash the sour taste of blood that still lingered from Caleb. I had told him that in no parallel universe would that ever happen again, unless he brushed his teeth beforehand to make sure that I had an entirely, blood-free, mint-flavored experience. Besides that side effect, the make-out had been an adequate performance for a thirteen years old – not that I had much experience to judge it from. Seth might have been a wiser choice, since he seemed to be all over his pack all the time, but he likely would’ve been a lap dog for months begging for more if I offered him just an inch – and I didn’t want a boyfriend. I didn’t even want a BFF that I made out with – apparently, Max had proposed it to Geraldine once out of sheer despair – and that made Caleb ideal for the role. He wasn’t clingy and enjoyed punishing Darius almost a tenth as much as I did, which is more than I could say about anyone else – besides perhaps the anti-Lionel radicals who still vouched for depriving him of the title of Heir to the Council.

I didn’t intend to make out with him again, but it had taken the edge off enough that I hadn’t been on the verge of sprouting flames for almost fourtyfive minutes afterwards.

“Roxy, I’m sure that Darius didn’t mean to not show up the other day”. Gwen was sitting on her bed, her dark hair in a neat updo, her bright eyes softer than mine could ever be. “I know you’re hurt, but-”

“I’m not hurt” I snapped.

“Upset”.

“I’m not upset”.

Gwen let out a laugh, and I would’ve strangled her if I didn’t love her so much. Besides, I would’ve never admitted it out loud but while I wasn’t upset, or hurt, or even angry, I had had controlled mood swings between the three for four days. “Fine. I still think that you should talk to him about this, even if just about how it didn’t impact you in the slightest”.

I went through the clothes that our mother had chosen for us, discharging the third gown with a frown. It was orange – why would I ever wear an orange dress? I was a Phoenix, not a mandarin. “Sure, considering how busy he is, I doubt he’ll even have time for that tonight”.

“He will”. Gwen stood next to me.

“I shouldn’t even show up” I sighed. “But if we don’t, then it will look like I want to challenge him politically, while I just want to hide his golden toys so far away that not even his damn fast wings will reach them before the next full moon”.

“I’m pretty sure you did that. Fourteen times. I don’t even know why he keeps leaving them there with no protection”.

“Because his brain is made of ash” I replied, as I adjusted the dark red dress I had picked.

“Technically, we’re the ones-” Gwen didn’t finish. “Never mind. Can’t you just approach him and ask him nicely why he missed out on your birthday tradition?”

I took out a tube of red lipstick from a hidden floor-board – Father thought it was too soon, but I didn’t care – and I applied it, side-eyeing my twin as I stood in front of the mirror. “Whatever. It’s not like we had made a Star Pact about it or anything”. Gwen’s reflection offered me an unconvinced smile. “If you say so…”.

As soon as we arrived, I started looking for the Heirs. Our parents stayed behind, entertaining Catalina, who had organized the most press-acceptable party to date. Darius would’ve likely preferred to spend his birthday with his closest friends, but he didn’t have much margin for mistakes when Solaria was observing his every move. I hadn’t met Lionel, but it was clear to me that he hadn’t inherited the dictator gene – I didn’t understand how no one saw that he would’ve likely preferred not being an Heir at all to ruling Solaria on his own.

Without even looking around, I saw him. I didn’t understand why, but I never had trouble seeking him out. As children, when we had first started to have classes together, he had made a habit of distancing himself from us when we were in public – even if it was an average playdate in the Solaria Gardens. But no matter where he hid, I always found him – as if there was an invisible tether between us. It was likely that we were Nebula Allies, but I had never had the same ease with the other Heirs, and I refused to linger on the reason why.

Before I could reach him, Marguerite stomped in front of me, a plastered smile on her freckled face. “Roxayna, we were wondering where our beloved Princesses were”.

“Beloved?” I echoed. It wasn’t a secret that Marguerite’s father had sided with Darius’ father and supported his coup. It didn’t matter that it had long been proven that Father had been misguided or how much effort Tyler’s mother put in re-establishing his reputation, Lionel’s supporters still believed that the Savage King had conspired against the Heirs and that Lionel was a fallen hero. That was likely why Darius had been allowed to retain his birthright.

She ignored me. “Not that Acrux would’ve noticed”.

“Gwen is quiet, but I’m sure he would’ve still taken notice if she wasn’t here”.

“I wasn’t talking about Gwen”. I bit my tongue. It wasn’t the right place to cause a scene, not with Marguerite, and not where Darius and the press of the entire Realm could see me. Attempting to channel Gwen’s composure, I made another step in the Heirs’ direction, but Marguerite stepped in front of me again – but not before I saw that Darius’ gaze was fixed on me. I wouldn’t let him have the satisfaction of seeing me falter. “I mean, I’m sure you’ve heard that Darius and I are a thing, now”.

“I’m a Princess, I know better than to believe the gossip” I feigned sweetness.

“Well, this time it’s true”. Marguerite stared me for a second, likely expecting a reaction – she didn’t know that I had long accepted that piece of information. “His wings are so strong, I’m sure he will become even stronger than his dear father. He didn’t have any issue carrying me”.

My tongue went dry. “His wings?”

“Sure. I mean, I had seen him transform, but not like that. I also didn’t know that Dragons even let others touch them, but I’m sure even Lionel made exceptions for Catalina”.

He had let her ride him. He hadn’t forgotten our birthday tradition, he had just taken someone else. “What’s up, Roxayna? Did you not know?” I heard Marguerite’s voice, but I wasn’t looking at her – I was sustaining Darius’ dark gaze, that likely hadn’t left me since I had entered the room. I held back the sting of the tears, willing them to vanish as I called upon the Phoenix within me to dry them before they fell. Because I didn’t care about Darius Acrux. And he certainly didn’t mean enough to me to make me cry.

But I didn’t want to be near him – not that night, not for a long time. He had never told me he would never let others ride him eventually, but I though it would be the Heirs, or Gwen, or even Geraldine. Not Marguerite. I had no right to claim a betrayal, yet as I reined in the flames that were burrowed beneath my skin so that I wouldn’t make a scene in front of the press, I couldn’t shake the feeling that it was.

Caleb rushed out of his chair, faster than any of the other Heirs would’ve managed. “Roxy?” he whispered.

“I just want to be alone” I murmured. I was about to push him out of the way, when I noticed that Darius had almost reached us. I deliberately curved the corners of my mouth in a smile. “Before, though, I wouldn’t mind a little fun”. I erased the space between us. “Roxy, I have fed ten minutes ago, I don’t know-” I interrupted him, making sure I made eye contact with Darius as I ignored the metallic taste of blood in Caleb’s mouth. By the Stars, I wished I could wield water already.

Darius stopped, his eyes betraying his emotions as slits flashed in their stead.

I heard clicking sounds as the press caught that moment, but I didn’t care. “That’s enough” I decided, pushing Caleb out of the way. “I need to go”. Too startled to react, he didn’t stop me as I left the crowd, as the enchanted lights suspended over the Acrux Gardens dimmed into darkness.

The moment I knew that the shadows would hide me, I burst into flames and soared into the sky.

DARIUS

I had seen Roxy from the moment she had entered the party with Gwen. I had almost been afraid she wouldn’t show up – I had even asked mom if the Vegas had confirmed their participation, and she’d laughed it off saying that I was too anxious about the press. I hadn’t even thought about the political implications of her absence, but remembering that the Vegas not showing up would’ve been an offense to the entire family had reassured me.

As I made sure I didn’t lose her in the sky, I ran through the number of mistakes I had made that week – the last of which, not making sure Marguerite and Roxy didn’t cross paths at the party. If I had been a little braver, I would’ve told her myself about what had went down, instead I had avoided her for three days.

I didn’t owe her an explanation, and yet as I raced after her, all I wanted was to reassure her that I belonged to her – in a way I couldn’t yet name, I had belonged to her all along.

Haunting her light in the dark, I didn't even notice that we had left the urban area behind until flight halted. Spreading her wings, Roxy was floating above the Blackhole Forest - the most dangerous area of Solaria. In that moment, her eyes crossed with mine. Not human, but more - as if the spark that seemed to ignite them at all times had set them aglow, sharpening her emotions. And yet, beneath the fire, it was Roxy staring at me. A dare shone on her face, her wings shuddering in promise.

A moment before I realized that I hadn't been chasing her at all, she plunged in the shadows.

I landed next to her, thankful that being thirteen, I was still average-sized. I was about turn into Fae, when I remembered that I would've been naked. The expensive suit that I had been wearing was likely shredded outside of the Acrux manor.

Roxy, on the other hand, retracted her wings and let the fire burn out, leaving her beautiful dress intact. It hadn't even torn on her back, since all of the twins' clothes had been adapted to their Order. A victorious smile crowned her lips.

"You can't talk. That's how I like you the best". Her sweetness almost made me breath smoke. I might have let Marguerite kiss me, but she had made out with Caleb in front of the press, in front of all of Solaria's high society, in front of me. She had crossed a line. "Why did you even chase after me? I thought you had plenty entertainment at your party. Plus, I know how much you love those fancy canapes that Catalina orders all the time".

I hated them.

"To be honest, I didn't even know if you'd follow me here. You don't quite have the rule-breaking streak".

But it wasn't true - I was a broken rule. I should've been disowned after what Lionel had done, but I had stayed as Heir because of the conspiracy that the likes of Marguerite's father believed in. A conspiracy that I daily denied to the press, even if I knew that I owed it all.

"Guess I was wrong". Roxy's eyes softened. I noticed that while thinking about Lionel, I had settled on the ground. Perhaps even through her anger, she had noticed the effect her words had had on me. "Why don't you go back to the party, Darius?"

Because I want to be here. With you.

I didn't even know what Marguerite could've said to her to make her lose her temper. The Heirs had casually mentioned that Caleb had told her about Marguerite, and Roxy had never laid claims on me - I hadn't even dared to get close enough to kiss her, no matter now much I desired it.

I wasn't exactly the most suitable partner for a Vega Princess, anyways.

"Fine. You won't go, will you?" Her harshness had burned out, as if the flames had taken her fury with her. I hadn't been close enough to hear what Marguerite had told her, but I wanted to fly back to the Acrux Manor just to torture her until she denied it.

I shuddered at the thought. At times, when I was a Dragon, I feared that Lionel was closer than he should've been.

I wanted to turn into Fae to be able to question her, to explain, but I couldn't. But perhaps that wasn't what Roxy wanted. Perhaps she hadn't led me in the Forest just to taunt me and leave me stranded. Neither of us had ever been adept at voicing our feelings out loud. I nodded, brushing the nuzzle against her cheek.

She was sad, and I still didn't know why - but if that's all she let me do, I would comfort her until I could make up for what Marguerite had said to her. Roxy didn't push me aside, but didn’t make a move to stroke me back either. Her voice became soft, almost like a whisper. "You let her fly with you".

What? I stopped caressing her, stepping back. I felt the taste of smoke before I saw the twirls in the air, twisting around Roxy.

"I wouldn't even care. But why that day, of all days? When--" Her voice faltered. "You know, I shouldn't even be telling you this. Gwen was wrong".

Fast as lightning, Roxy spread her wings and skirted up above the trees. I went after her, but this time around it wasn't a chase. She glided through the sky, her flames at bay, the unique trace of her Phoenix fire an unnatural incandescence in her wings.

Once we arrived to the Acrux Manor, instead of landing where the photographer couldn't see her, Roxy hovered above the crowd and span for the press before retracting her wings on the dance floor, knowing I couldn't do the same. As I saw Gwen rushing to her sister, I turned around and I circled the Manor. Thankfully, the fact that I came from a family of Dragons meant that most windows were sized to accommodate our Order. I dressed as fast as I could and I rushed outside, begging the Stars that Roxy hadn't taken off again.

"Darius, where the hell were you?" Max greeted me. I wasn't focused enough to keep his Siren gifts at bay. "Anguish, desire, despair, which means that--" I didn't hear what he said, because I saw Roxy. Gwen was sitting next to her on the sofa, no Heir in sight - knowing Gwen, she had told them to make themselves sparse - and their hands were intertwined.

I pushed the crowd aside - including Marguerite, who I still wanted to set alight even without the Dragon instincts guiding me - and I reached them. "Roxy" I breathed. But the moment I saw her, I knew that something was wrong. Gwen offered me a tight smile. "It's not Roxy, it's an illusion casted by Catalina. She casted an illusion of you too, he might be wandering somewhere".

"Where's the real Roxy?"

"She's likely back at the Palace by now". Gwen bit her lip. "Look, I think you should wait to talk to her. This is not the right time. Twin advice".

"I never meant to hurt her" I murmured.

"I know".

I sat next to Gwen, who even while looking like her sister, couldn't be more different from her. "I asked Gabriel to cast a scary illusion for Marguerite, by the way, and there are excellent pictures of her going around" she added nonchalantly.

"Gabriel was here?"

"I might've called him". Gwen shrugged, an innocent look on her face. "I don't even know what she told Roxy exactly, but the moment you two left, she started saying that the Savage King's daughters were clearly as unstable as their father and it would be a matter of time before we realized that Lionel was a savior, and all that bias".

I growled. "I shouldn't have even invited her".

"At least there are excellent photos of her going around at the moment. I mean, it does make it a little more embarrassing if you want to date her in public, but--"

"No" I interrupted her. "By the Stars, I don't care about Marguerite".

She curved her lips. "That's what I thought".

We observed the crowd in silence for a while, Gwen lazily interacting with her twin to make the illusion more believable. I had yet to see either mom or fake Darius, but I suspected that both meetings would be interesting. "Little shrewd?" I called. She had been lost to her thoughts, as usual, and the daisies intertwined in her brains quivered in surprise when I spoke. "Yes?"

"Not to discourage you, but being thirteen so far seems so much harder than being twelve. Enjoy it while it lasts".

ROXY

A noise awakened me. It took me a while to notice the shape behind the curtains, casting a long shadow in the room. Darius. The second I thought his name, the memories of the previous night came back to me like a wave of nausea. His slits were looking at me, a pleading softness to them.

I pretended I didn’t hear him for a few minutes, considering whether I should open the window or not. And then, I couldn’t help but think about how he had comforted me until I had mentioned what Marguerite had told me. I had never been possessive, not of Gwen, not of any of my friends – and yet I couldn’t tolerate the idea of sharing him.

I needed to make sure he didn’t know, though. I needed to fix the glimpse he had seen of me the previous night, when I had carelessly opened up to him. I didn’t want us to change. I wasn’t ready. Wearing the most prideful look I was capable of, I tiptoed to the window and I opened it. I turned around as he put on the clothes that he kept at the Palace – just in case.

“You can look”.

I met his gaze, attempting to shake the vulnerability of our last conversation. “It’s early” I muttered.

Darius smiled shyly. “I’m here for our ride”.

“You don’t have to-”

“Marguerite lied” he interrupted me. “She didn’t fly with me. I had been hanging out with other Heirs and was heading home, when Marguerite and her friends saw me. Do you know that café full of Pegasus’, the one on the roof?” I nodded, still unsure where that was going. “Well. They were there. They started pointing their finger at me, shouting my name. I don’t know exactly what happened afterwards, likely a bet or whatever, but Marguerite threw herself off the building. I don’t have the Air element, so all I could do was turn into a Dragon to catch her. I just acted on instinct. Then I realized that her older sister, who wields Air, was behind them and nothing would’ve happened anyways”.

That girl was crazy. “That’s it?”

“When I caught her, she screamed that she knew I would save her and the whole the café started clapping. The owner handed me some spare clothes and when I headed out of the bathroom, there were even more people there. Before I could escape, Marguerite kissed me in front of every star-damned bastard that had stopped to stare. I was stunned, but I escaped a moment later, I swear. I didn’t mean any of it”.

“You don’t need to swear it, it’s not like I have a say in the girls you date” I managed. But I would’ve been lying if I didn’t admit that a weight had been lifted off my shoulders. “Is that all?”

“I’m sorry I missed our ride. I was just-” His voice trailed off. “I don’t know. I’m sorry, Roxy”.

We stared at each other for a while, in silence. I knew what he wasn’t saying – and he knew what I hadn’t said. The air seemed to be electric, as if ignited by all that the words that had fallen through the cracks.

“So…” I broke the silence. “What about that make up ride?”

It was by far our best one. For the first time unafraid of me falling, Darius span in the sky, and the rush made me breathless each time, even as I asked him to do it again. Towards the end, I threw myself off him and transformed into a Phoenix, and I chased him until neither of us had any strength left. I didn’t reach him, but I promised that one day I would. I bought him the most embarrassing shirt I could find – he still owed me for the disgusting blood taste in my mouth – and I waited for him to change.

“A Medusa cartoon? Really?”

“I’m sure that Marguerite will love it”.

Darius let out a snarl. “You’ll never let this go”.

“You can bet I won’t”.

“Wait to see the pictures of her escaping from Gabriel’s illusion. Gwen told me it was insane”. I laughed. He stopped at a café – safely placed on the ground, so no danger of Marguerite falling from the sky there – and told me to wait. When he came out, he was waving a bag full of little chocolate wafers. “Peace treaty?”

I faked a swoon. “Why do you know all my weaknesses, Acrux?”

He watched me eat them, a satisfied grin on his face. He didn’t ask me to share. I hated that he knew me so well. “What’s up with that silence, Dragon boy?”

He seemed to pander what to say for a few seconds. “There is no Marguerite” he blurted out. I didn’t expect it and I almost let it show. “There is no Marguerite?” I echoed, the voice more unsteady than I willed it to be.

“No. There’s only-”

“Guys!” a voice shouted from across the street. Seth and Caleb were frantically waving at us. “Hi” I yelled back. Seth was pointing at the screen of his phone, a picture that I couldn’t make out the details of in the middle of it – but I was quite sure it included a certain red-head. “Come here, these photos are insane” Caleb assured.

I turned back to Darius. “You were saying?”

I wasn’t sure if I wanted to know. Even as he struggled for words, I had the temptation to shut him up so that he wouldn’t say the ones that would change it all. I wanted to remember our ride, and our laughs, and his humiliating t-shirt, and I wanted to chase him around the sky, until both of us went numb. I wasn’t ready.

He seemed to understand.

“Nothing”.

He opened up in a smile that wasn’t entirely sincere - but I didn’t let myself dwell on it, as I dragged him across the street to our friends.

I didn’t want morning to end quite yet.

#torydarius #zodiac academy #fanfiction #au #tory vega #darius acrux #darcy vega #seth capella

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jrob64 · 2 years

Text

Her Heart’s Home - Part II of Where Her Heart Belongs (Killian’s POV)

HAPPY BIRTHDAY @kmomof4!!!!

I’m a day early, but since the story is finished & I won’t have time to post it tomorrow, you get an early present! As requested, here is a second part to Where Her Heart Belongs from Killian’s point of view. I hope it’s everything you wanted!

Extra special thanks to @winterbythesea for allowing me to use the beautiful artwork she created for WHHB to make the banner. Thanks also to @hookedmom for being the best beta once again.

**I’ve taken the liberty of using two of the most iconic CS scenes in a different way for this story. I hope no one minds.

Rating: M (because Mary insisted Krystal would want it that way!)

Words: 6262

Find Where Her Heart Belongs on Tumblr, Ao3 or ffn

Find Her Heart’s Home on Ao3 or ffn

*********

“I’d say you’ve got your magic back,” Killian said, seeing the wand Emma was holding start to glow. “Now, shall we go?”

She closed her eyes and concentrated and he turned to see a portal beginning to open in the wall of the Dark One’s vault, then gestured for her to go through it ahead of him. When she didn’t do as he indicated, he turned back to face her again, but she wasn’t there. Glancing around the space with an increasing sense of panic, he didn’t see any sign of her.

The only thing he could figure was that she somehow slipped through the portal without him noticing, even though he didn’t know how that could have been possible. Realizing his only chance of escaping the vault was going to close soon, he jumped through it.

When he landed on the floor of the barn, he looked around, hoping to see a flash of blonde hair. His heart sank at the sight of the empty building. He quickly got to his feet and rushed out the door. Just beyond it, he heard a buzzing sound and spotted Emma’s talking phone laying on the ground. He tried to push aside the thought that she probably would have picked it up if she had come through here.

Stuffing it into his pocket, he continued to Granny’s, bursting through the door, breathing hard and scanning the diner for Emma.

“Hook, did you find her?” David asked, rising from the booth where he was seated with Mary Margaret and the infant prince.

“No, I…didn’t she come back here?” Killian asked. “I thought perhaps she made it through the portal and…”

“Portal?” Mary Margaret interjected with alarm. “What are you talking about?”

Killian took another quick look around and realized nothing had changed since he left to pursue Emma. Sighing heavily, he began relating the story of being sucked into Zelena’s portal and their adventure in the Enchanted Forest.

*********

Emma didn’t return that night or the next, or the one after that. For four days, Killian, her family and friends searched everywhere for her, but she seemed to have vanished.

As they sat strategizing in the loft the evening of the fourth day, Regina rose from her seat abruptly and went to stand in front of the mirror where they had witnessed the reunion of Ariel and Eric.

“What is it, Regina?” Mary Margaret questioned, crossing the room to stand beside her.

Regina continued to study the mirror. “I thought I saw…yes! There it is again! Do you see it?”

Henry knocked his chair over in his rush to join his mother, with Killian and David right behind him. “What, Mom? What do you see?”

“It…it’s Emma!” Killian shouted, seeing a blurry image on the surface of the mirror.

The room filled with noise as each of them began to see the same thing as Regina and Killian.

“Regina, can you do anything to let us see her more clearly?” David asked.” Maybe we would be able to identify where she is.”

“You know I can’t perform mirror magic,” Regina snapped. “Obviously, there’s some residual magic left in it from Emma and that’s why we can see her.”

“Can you please try, Mom?” begged Henry. “Please?”

Regina’s eyes softened as she looked at her distraught son. Turning her attention back to the mirror, she held both hands out in front of her, closed her eyes, and concentrated.

“It’s working!” Mary Margaret cried. “Regina, you did it!”

Killian stepped closer, trying to determine Emma’s location. “Do any of you recognize that place?” he asked.

All of them stared at the image, shaking their heads one-by-one, before Henry suddenly shouted, “She’s going into what looks like a library! What does the sign say over the door?”

David squinted. “Columbus Public Library,” he read slowly. “Columbus? Where is that?”

“There are lots of different Columbuses in the country,” Henry informed him, running to get his phone. He Googled ‘Columbus’ and read, “There are twenty-three states with a city of Columbus in them.” His shoulders sagged and he looked up sadly. “How are we supposed to figure out which one it is?”

“Are you saying she’s in the land without magic, Lad?” Killian questioned.

“Yeah. She must be somewhere in the United States, we just don’t know where.”

“Well, we can narrow it down somehow, right?” Mary Margaret asked hopefully. “It looks like it’s pretty chilly there, so we can rule out warmer states.”

After Henry pulled up a map on his computer, he and Mary Margaret began checking off states like Texas and New Mexico. Meanwhile, the other three continued to examine the mirror for any more clues to Emma’s location.

The sick feeling in Killian’s stomach gnawed at him as he watched her browsing books in the library. Clearly, her memory had been wiped since she seemed to feel at home in the location and didn’t appear to be attempting to find her way back to them. To him.

“Henry, come here!” David suddenly shouted, noticing something on the wall behind the circulation desk.

The boy quickly did as told, casting his eyes on the spot where his grandfather was pointing. “What are you…oh! That’s a state flag! I think there’s only one that’s shaped like a pennant!”

Rushing back to his computer, his fingers flew over the keys as he typed in another search. “It’s Ohio!” he shouted. “Columbus, Ohio! That’s where she is!”

“How far away is it?” Killian asked. “Can we make it there tonight?”

“We’re not going there,” Regina said decisively.

“What the bloody hell do you mean?” Killian growled. “We have to go get her!”

“Look,” she said, turning haughty eyes on him, “you said you were in the Dark One’s vault right before Emma disappeared. That means he’s probably the one who sent her to that place and obviously wiped her memories. If we go swooping in there to rescue her, she’s not going to know who we are and we’ll never convince her to come back with us. We’re going to have to find another way.”

“And just how do you propose we do that?” Killian spat, stepping closer until he was toe-to-toe with the queen.

“I’m not sure, yet,” she countered, not backing down. “I’m going to have to think about it.”

“Well, think fast, because Emma has already been gone too long!” he stated venomously. “Unless you have another reason for not wanting to bring her back. Maybe you like being with Henry alone. Maybe you like not having Emma around!”

“Enough!” Mary Margaret interjected, cutting off Regina’s retort. “It’s getting late. Let’s all get some sleep so we are refreshed and can try to come up with a solution tomorrow. At least we know where Emma is and have a pretty good idea of what happened to her.”

“Belle might be able to help,” Henry suggested hopefully. “We can ask her in the morning.”

“Aye, and perhaps she can get the bloody crocodile to admit what he did and make him undo it,” Killian snarled.

Regina and Henry said their goodbyes, but Killian was loath to leave the mirror as long as Emma’s image was visible. Stepping in front of it, he was frustrated to see it was blurry once again.

Mary Margaret looked at his forlorn expression and handed the baby to David. “Could you please change his diaper and get him into his sleeper? I’ll be in to feed him in a few minutes.”

David put the fussing infant up against his shoulder, glanced over at Killian, then gave Mary Margaret a nod and went into their bedroom.

“Hook?” Mary Margaret said softly, placing her hand on his forearm. “I know you’re worried about her, but there’s nothing more we can do tonight. Go to your ship, get some sleep, and we’ll get a fresh start in the morning.”

He swallowed hard, then turned sad eyes toward her. “I no longer have my ship.”

Mary Margaret’s brows raised in surprise. “What do you mean? Where is it?”

He studied his boots for several moments, before finally speaking in a low, tortured voice. “I…I had to find Emma and I needed a magic bean, so I…made a deal with Blackbeard.”

“You traded your ship for a bean so you could bring Emma back?” she asked incredulously.

“Aye,” he said simply, his eyes still fixed on the floor.

She stood stock still, digesting the shocking information, finally shaking herself out of her reverie to say, “Stay here. I…I’ll be right back.”

He was still standing in the same spot when she returned. “Here are some pajamas,” she said, holding them out when he turned to face her. “You can stay up in Emma’s room tonight.”

His eyes widened in surprise. “Pardon me?”

“Killian,” she began, and at the sound of his given name, his eyes grew even larger. “You sacrificed something very important to you to bring our daughter back to us. The least we can do is provide you a place to sleep.”

His lips turned up with a hint of a smile. “Thank you, Milady.”

“Please call me Mary Margaret or Snow,” she said warmly. “Now get some sleep. Tomorrow is going to be a very important day and we all need to be well rested…or as well rested as one can be with a newborn in the house. Goodnight, Killian.”

“Goodnight, Mary Margaret.”

After she left the room, he squinted into the mirror one more time, sighing when he was unable to distinguish Emma’s form within the cloudy surface.

He trudged up the stairs and changed into the pajamas, then settled into Emma’s narrow bed, finally relaxing as he was surrounded by her scent. “Tomorrow, Love,” he murmured. “We’ll bring you home tomorrow.” Yawning widely, he turned his face into her pillow and fell asleep.

*********

Unfortunately, nothing they tried brought Emma home the next day. Belle agreed to help and suggested a way to try to jog Emma’s memories. Aided by a spell Regina discovered, they were able to send the storybook through the mirror to Emma. Once she found it, they were relieved to see that her image in the mirror was clear as long as she was looking at the book.

They also realized that people could be transported through the mirror and several were eager to help, each one hoping they would be the one to trigger the return of her memories. But when Killian attempted to pass through, he was met with a solid, impenetrable wall. He was horrified and furious, sure Rumplestiltskin was the person responsible for blocking him, but Gold claimed to have no memory of doing it.

“Bloody crocodile,” he ground out through gritted teeth, addressing Mary Margaret, David and Belle. “She would recognize me from the illustration in the book if I could just get through to her.”

Belle promised she would try to persuade Gold to remove the magical block, if he had indeed put one on. In the meantime, Killian had to watch one person after another interacting with Emma through the mirror, despairing that he was unable to be one of them.

They saw Emma beginning to put the pieces together little by little, but had no idea how long it would take for her to figure out who she was and where she belonged. As the days passed and everyone returned to their routines, Killian remained, watching her every move.

When the figures in the picture began to dance around the page, he was sure it was her magic causing it, even though she was in the land without magic.

Her parents, Henry, Regina and Belle were with him when Emma wore the red ball gown and pushed her fingers through the page. Killian swiped at them, attempting to make contact, but she pulled them back before he could. When he heard her murmur, “So close, Killian Jones. Someday I’ll make it to you,” his heart shattered.

The group decided to send Ashley and Marco through with the necessary things to complete Emma’s look, everyone hoping it would be enough to help refresh her memory. If not, they knew they had one last chance - sending Killian to her, provided Belle could get Gold to remove the block.

Killian took up his familiar position in front of the mirror, staring into the blank surface as he wondered if Ashley doing her hair and Marco giving her the jeweled headband would do the trick. Suddenly, her image materialized before him, looking exactly like she did in the illustration. His breath caught as she created ripples with her fingers, then he heard her whispered plea - “Please let me get through to you, Killian Jones.” A halo of white light appeared as her hand came through the mirror. Thinking quickly, he pushed his hook toward her searching fingers. As soon as she grasped it firmly, he pulled with all his might.

He caught her in his arms, the relief flooding through him like a tidal wave. “Swan. At last!” he exhaled.

Emma drew back to look at him for several seconds. Just as he was beginning to fear that her memories hadn’t returned, she tugged him to her, fusing her lips to his. His concern dissipated and then he was returning the kiss. She rarely let her walls down enough to give him any indication of her feelings for him, but in that moment, he was almost certain he could feel the love he was pouring into the kiss being reciprocated.

He spent the next several minutes after the kiss ended holding her and answering her questions about what happened. When she started to ask him why he hadn’t come to her like all the others, he could read the trepidation in her eyes and hurried to assure her how much he wanted to, but was blocked.

His heart swelled when she thanked him for never giving up on her, and felt like it was going to burst when she explained that she was talking about all of the times he encouraged her and stayed by her side. She noticed.

Then she told him she and her heart were back with him where they belonged, and he swore he had never felt happier in his entire life.

Far too soon, her family and numerous townspeople came rushing in the door, alerted to Emma’s return by the energy her magic sent through Storybrooke. Wearily, he sat down and watched the happy reunion, suddenly feeling the physical and mental exhaustion fully setting in.

When he glanced up and saw her send him a smile, his weariness lifted long enough to return it. He expected everyone to stay for a while, so he decided it would probably be best to head to Granny’s inn. He stayed there his first three nights back from their adventure in the Enchanted Forest, until Mary Margaret extended the invitation for him to stay with them.

He rose from the bar stool and made his way across the loft, speaking briefly to Belle and Henry before stopping in front of the door. Looking over his shoulder for one more glimpse of Emma, he noticed her giving a hug to August and thanking him for alerting her to the presence of the storybook in the library.

Quietly slipping out the door, he pulled it shut behind him, then started down the stairs. Two steps from the bottom, Emma’s voice stopped him in his tracks. “Killian, where are you going?”

The thrill of hearing his name roll off her tongue zipped through him before he turned to face her. “I thought I would give you time with your family and friends,” he explained.

“And you don’t think that includes you?”

He gave her a tired smile. “I’m happy to know that it does, Love. I just…I was going to get some sleep.”

“So you’re going to the Jolly Roger?”

Dropping his head, he scratched behind his ear. “Actually, I, um, I’m staying at Granny’s,” he admitted.

“Instead of your ship? Why?”

His ears reddened. “It…it’s a bit of a long story, Swan.”

“Well, hang around and once everyone leaves, you can tell me.”

Killian glanced toward the outside doors, then back up to Emma at the top of the stairs. He wasn’t keen to tell her the tale, but he couldn’t deny his Swan anything. “As you wish,” he responded, before climbing up the stairs to join her.

*********

Granny sent food over for the group, who lingered until early evening. When everyone said their goodbyes and left, Henry giving Emma a long hug before leaving with Regina, David cleaned up the kitchen while Mary Margaret got the baby ready for bed. Emma pulled Killian down on the couch with her and intertwined their fingers. They sat quietly for a few minutes, each lost in their own thoughts, simply happy to be together again.

“Mom told me you slept in front of the mirror nearly every night since I was sent away,” Emma finally said, speaking quietly as she stroked her thumb over his rings. “That couldn’t have been comfortable.”

“Your mother provided some bedding and pillows for me. I’ve slept in far worse places.”

“You could have slept in my bed, you know.”

He chuckled lightly. “I did, the first night, but once we were able to see you whenever you opened the book, I didn’t want to take the chance of missing you.”

“You can sleep in there tonight, if you want,” she whispered.

“In your bed?” he asked. Seeing her nod, he hurried to add, “No, Swan. I’ll not make you sleep somewhere…”

“I meant with me,” she interrupted, her eyes not meeting his.

His grip on her hand tightened. “I’m not sure your parents…”

“I’m an adult. I don’t need permission from my parents to have a man in my bed.”

“Even if that man is a pirate?”

She twisted around and placed her fingers under his chin to turn his face toward her. “Being a pirate doesn’t define you, Killian. You’re so much more than that.”

His left eyebrow quirked up. “You truly believe that?”

Placing both hands on either side of his face, she looked into his eyes intently for several seconds before answering with certainty, “All the help you gave us to rescue Henry from Neverland, then finding us in New York and bringing us back, not to mention everything you did to protect and help me after we fell through Zelena’s portal - that’s more than enough proof that you’re an honorable man.”

Killian wondered if she had any idea just how much those words meant to him. He opened his mouth to respond, but found he couldn’t get words past the lump in his throat. He settled for giving her a lopsided smile as his face turned a deep shade of red.

“So, yeah,” she said, “I want you to stay with me tonight, if that’s alright with you.”

He gave a slight nod, and she rewarded him with a smile, then stood and pulled him up beside her. Keeping her fingers threaded through his, she walked into the kitchen. “Hey, Dad,” she greeted.

David was just finishing up the dishes. He pulled the plug to let the water out of the sink, dried his hands, then turned and leaned against the counter, folding his arms over his chest. “Hi, Sweetheart,” he smiled. Shifting his gaze toward Killian, he said, “I guess you won’t need to sleep on the floor in front of the mirror tonight, huh Hook?”

“He’s going to sleep in my bed with me,” Emma said without hesitation.

Her father’s brows shot up and his mouth dropped open, then he cleared his throat. Killian prepared to defend himself, but the next words out of David’s mouth took him by surprise. “You…uh, you’ll need to borrow a pair of my pajamas again, I’m assuming?”

Killian blinked rapidly, trying to register the prince’s question. “Aye, if you don’t mind,” he finally responded.

David’s eyes darted between the two of them, taking in their linked hands, before sighing and leaving the kitchen.

“See? Nothing to worry about,” Emma said, but despite her confident words, Killian was sure he could hear relief in her voice.

Mary Margaret returned with David, going directly to her daughter and giving her a hug. “David tells me you’re heading off to bed.” When Emma affirmed it, her mother added, “The past couple of weeks have been very tiring for everyone. Sleep well, Sweetheart. I love you.”

“Love you, too, Mom.”

Killian could see the tears shining in Mary Margaret’s eyes when Emma pulled away to go give her father a hug. He was sure the tears were in response to Emma easily calling her ‘Mom’, after struggling with it for so long. It seemed her time with her parents back in the Enchanted Forest had something to do with that.

David handed Killian the pajamas, then took his turn hugging his daughter, fixing the other man with an intimidating look after releasing her. Killian didn’t drop his eyes, meeting the prince’s gaze unwaveringly. After several moments, David finally gave him a nod, bade them both goodnight, and followed Mary Margaret into their bedroom.

Emma led Killian upstairs, each taking their turn to change into sleepwear. When he entered her bedroom, she was sitting on her bed waiting for him. “I didn’t know which side you wanted,” she explained.

He subconsciously ran his hand over his hook as he answered, “The left side would be fine, if you don’t mind.”

After pulling the covers back, she slid under them and scooted over, turning on her side to look at him. He unclicked his hook, removed it and laid it on the table beside her bed, then slowly pushed his sleeve up and unbuckled his brace. His hand wrapped around the leather covering his wrist, but he hesitated, looking up at her.

Locking eyes with him, Emma reassured him, “It’s alright, Killian. You don’t have to take it off if you’re not comfortable, but I promise you it’s not going to bother me.”

He paused another few seconds, before firmly grasping the brace and pulling it off, placing it beside his hook. Her eyes never left his as he did, not even glancing at his scarred wrist, despite having never seen it before.

Giving her a small smile, he laid down on the narrow bed, positioning himself so he was face to face with her. “I don’t think I ever want to take my eyes off of you again,” he said, bringing his hand up to rub his thumb along her jaw.

“I would despair if you did,” she smirked.

He grinned, recognizing his own words from their first meeting in the Enchanted Forest. “May I ask you something, Love?”

“Sure, but then I want you to tell me what happened to your ship.”

“If you insist,” he conceded.

“What did you want to ask me?”

“Were you happy in that Columbus place?”

She lifted her left shoulder in a shrug. “I guess, but I was all alone…again. I always had this feeling something was…off. Missing. Things just didn’t feel quite right, you know? And then when I found Henry’s book in the library, it was…” she paused, obviously trying to put her feelings into words. “It was like I had…hope. The stories felt like old friends, even though I’d never read them before; at least, I thought I hadn’t. I guess they were still deep in my memories, despite Rumplestiltskin trying to take them away.”

“We could tell by watching that you were beginning to recognize things.”

“Yeah, especially that picture of the two of us dancing. I couldn’t figure out how it was possible that I could be in there.”

“I knew you would work it out, Swan. You’re bloody brilliant.”

A blush filled her cheeks at his praise. A few beats passed, until she said, “Now, tell me about the Jolly Roger. What happened to her?”

Killian’s fingers switched from stroking her face to scratching behind his ear. “I, uh, she no longer belongs to me,” he admitted softly.

Emma’s eyes grew wide, her mouth forming an O in surprise. “Wh-what do you mean? Who has her?”

He swallowed hard, no longer able to meet her gaze. “Blackbeard.”

“He stole your ship from you?” she asked, anger seeping into her voice.

“No, I…I traded her to him,” he muttered.

She shifted backwards to look more fully into his face. “Why in the world would you do that?”

Licking his lips nervously, he considered how to answer. He hadn’t wanted to tell her all the details about how he found her and Henry after Pan’s curse; what he’d given up and why he made that choice. He was afraid it would overwhelm her to discover how desperate he was to have her back with him. She was just beginning to trust him enough to let down her walls for him, and he didn’t want to give her a reason to build them back up and shut him out.

Finally, he said, “I needed a magic bean and he had one. The only thing he would consider to trade for it was the Jolly.”

“But why would you need a…” she stopped and a strange look passed across her face. “You used the bean to get to New York and find us, didn’t you?”

He raised his eyes to hers. “Aye,” he replied simply.

“You traded your ship for me?” she whispered, her voice breaking.

“It was the only way, Emma. Your family needed you and your boy, and I…I couldn’t bear to be apart from you any longer, so when I got that message from the bird, I did the only thing I could. I would do it again in a heartbeat. I have no regrets.”

“But Killian, it’s your home.”

“They say home is where your heart lies, and…” his voice trailed off, unsure of how she would receive his declaration of her being his home. Silence filled the room as they each got lost in their thoughts.

“I remember telling you that the only one who saves me is me,” Emma said at last, “but you seem to keep saving me again and again.”

He wrapped his right arm around her waist and pulled her into his chest, whispering his words into her hair. “You have saved me too, Emma, in more ways than you will ever know.”

She was quiet for a long while as he reveled in holding her close. “Do you think we might be able to catch a break and not have a crisis for the next few days?” she asked.

Killian chuckled. “I wouldn’t count on it, Swan. This town seems to attract every imaginable disaster.”

“And yet you chose to stay here when you could have sailed away and left it behind.”

“I stayed for one reason.”

“I know,” she stated. “To get your revenge.”

“That’s why I came here, but that’s not why I stayed.”

She leaned back to look at him. “Why then?”

“Don’t you know, Emma?” he asked in a hoarse whisper. “It’s you.”

He watched the look in her eyes change from wonder to disbelief to awestruck, as tears gathered in them. Then she leaned in and tentatively pressed her lips to his.

Killian slid his hand up to the back of her head, holding her to him as he returned the kiss. Their lips moved softly and languidly together, the tips of their tongues teasing and tasting.

The kiss they shared when she returned had been filled with relief and passion, and left him breathless. This tender kiss spoke of the deeper connection they now shared with one another; one built on trust, understanding, and another feeling neither of them was quite ready to express out loud.

It left him equally breathless.

When it ended, Emma snuggled into his chest, his arms encircling her and holding her tight. He knew she could probably feel his heart hammering in his chest, but if she did, she didn’t mention it.

They lay quietly for so long, he was sure she had fallen asleep, so her words murmured into his neck took him by surprise. “Killian, may I ask you something?”

“Of course, Love.”

She raised herself up to rest on her elbow and looked into his face. “Do you ever think about…taking our relationship…to the next level?”

“The next level?” he asked, hoping he understood what she meant.

“Yeah, you know…physically,” she said, a blush moving up her throat.

He reached up to brush his fingertips over her reddened cheek. “I have,” he affirmed. “It just…it never seems to be the right time.”

She ran her hand down his chest and teased the skin under the hem of the henley he was wearing. “Now seems like a pretty good time,” she whispered into his ear, sending shivers of excitement through his body.

“Are…are you sure? Your parents are right downstairs.”

“Despite the upstairs being open, sound in the loft doesn’t really travel; it’s almost as if it’s been soundproofed. I never hear them when they’re…being intimate. Thank the lord.”

A grin spread across his face, but faded almost as soon as it appeared. “Emma, are you really sure?”

Her eyes darted between his before she leaned in and kissed him again, her tongue demanding permission to explore the warmth of his mouth. When she pulled away, leaving him panting, she asked, “Does that answer your question? If not, maybe this will.”

Her hand moved lower to rub against the pronounced ridge of his cock through his flannel pajama pants. He groaned, closing his eyes as he felt his erection stiffen even more. “Gods, Emma!” he gasped.

“Shh, this place might be reasonably private, but I don’t want to test that theory,” she mumbled against his lips.

He would’ve been able to follow her instructions better if she hadn’t squeezed his cock at the same time she was admonishing him.

As she continued to move one hand up inside his borrowed shirt and give attention to his rapidly swelling shaft with the other, Killian began to lavish open-mouthed kisses from below her ear down to her collarbone.

“Too many clothes,” Emma murmured. “I need…”

“Need what, Love?” he asked, between licking at the small marks he had sucked under her clavicle.

“I need to feel your skin on mine,” she whispered. “I just…I need more.”

He nodded his understanding before reaching behind himself to grasp the collar of the shirt and yank it over his head. Her fingers went to work right away, skimming through the abundant hair on his chest and abdomen.

“Do you have any idea how often I’ve wanted to do this?” she sighed. “You and your aversion to buttoning your shirts has nearly driven me wild sometimes.”

Her light touches were doing the same to him at the moment, but he wasn’t about to complain. He spent the last two weeks yearning to bring her back. Being separated from her cemented his awareness that he had to have Emma Swan in his life.

“Your turn, Swan,” he said, pulling at the collar of her pajama top.

She sat up and gave him a sultry smirk, then slowly began undoing the buttons down the front of the shirt. His breath caught as her fingers pushed each one through the buttonhole, knowingly teasing him. He was sure it would be worth the wait.

His assumption was verified when she finally shrugged out of the shirt, exposing her splendid breasts to his hungry eyes. “Bloody hell,” he exhaled on a shaky breath, and then he was giving them the attention they deserved - fondling, licking and kissing them, while Emma closed her eyes and moaned with pleasure.

She fell back on the bed and he shifted to hover over her, his hand and wrist working their way down her ribcage to the top of her pajama pants. Suddenly, a thought occurred to him and he halted his movements.

“Is…is something wrong?” she questioned.

“What if I…impregnate you?” he asked, his brow furrowed in concern.

“I’m using birth control.” At his quizzical look, she explained, “That means there’s hardly any chance I’ll get pregnant from…doing this.”

“Oh, I see. That’s good to know,” he replied. “Shall we, um, proceed?”

In response, she grinned and trailed her fingers down his stomach and under the waistband of his sleep pants. He inhaled sharply as her fingers wrapped around his girth, returning the favor by easing his hand down the back of her pants to squeeze her lovely backside.

Their pajama bottoms and underwear soon joined their shirts on the floor and they were completely bared to each other. He knew his Swan had nicely toned muscles on her trim form, but gods above, he could never have imagined how breathtaking she was, her body absolute perfection.

Killian took his time mapping her curves with his fingers, lips and tongue, while her hands roamed and stroked his physique. He didn’t know how much longer he would be able to hold himself back, but he was determined to let Emma be the initiator for every step.

When his fingers found their way to the heat between her legs, he could feel that she was very ready. He slid them through her sodden folds, his thumb finding her bundle of nerves. Her legs began trembling and her fingernails dug into his sides.

“K-Killian,” she stammered, voice low and sultry, “I…please say you’re ready.”

“Aye, Love,” he grunted, his cock so painfully erect, he was afraid he would explode as soon as he was inside her.

She arranged herself underneath him, widening her legs, and he settled between them. Looking up, his eyes met hers and he was awed by what he saw there. This wasn’t about satisfying lustful feelings for either of them; he could tell it was more than that. If he had to put into words what was shining in her eyes, he would say it was affection and trust, and a large part of him hoped he wasn’t reading too much into it by thinking he saw love there as well.

Bending her legs, she brought them up on either side of him, then reached down and aligned him at her entrance. He pushed into her slowly, watching her face for any sign of discomfort, but her eyes were closed in bliss as she ran her tongue across her bottom lip, puffing out short breaths.

When he was completely engulfed in her heat, he rested his forehead against hers, biting his lip to keep from saying the words that were on the tip of his tongue. She had said her heart was back with him where it belonged, but stopped short of saying those three little words. Even though he was completely in love with her, he wasn’t going to tell her, until she declared her love for him first. He couldn’t take the risk of making her run to avoid her feelings, as she was prone to do. For now, he was going to savor the feeling of being joined together with her.

Once he was sure he could move without climaxing too soon, he slowly withdrew and pushed back in. “Faster, Killian,” Emma whimpered, digging her nails into his arse.

He complied, snapping his hips while trying to muffle his groans of pleasure. The pleading gasps she pressed into his chest spurred him to deepen his thrusts and she began lifting her hips to meet them.

Killian could tell she was getting close and started adding an extra grind with his pelvis, which quickly had the desired effect. She wrapped her legs around him, pulling him to her tightly as her orgasm washed over her. He saw her biting her lip to keep from crying out, briefly wondering what it would be like the next time when they were in a more private setting - if there was a next time. Gods, he hoped there would be a next time.

Her walls squeezing his cock prompted his own release. He stilled within her as he spasmed, his breathing harsh and raspy in the crook of her neck.

Their sweat and breath mingled as they lay tangled together, neither ready to move away from the other yet. Her fingers kneaded the skin on his back as he scattered kisses over her shoulder and throat.

After several minutes, Emma finally spoke. “Do you remember when I told you it was a one-time thing after we kissed in Neverland?”

“Aye,” Killian assured her, wondering with a bit of apprehension where the conversation was heading.

“I won’t say that this time, because I’m really hoping it’s not,” she said, lightly trailing her fingertips along his jaw.

“I’m very happy to hear that,” he sighed, pushing up to look into her eyes.

She cupped his face between her hands. “You look exhausted, Killian. We should both get some sleep.”

“Aye, Love. I won’t argue with that, as long as I can stay here with you.”

She gave him a soft kiss. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

After using tissues from her bedside table to clean up, they redressed and settled into bed. He held her in his arms, her head on his chest and her legs tucked between his.

“Goodnight, Killian,” she whispered.

“Goodnight, Love,” he returned, then drifted off into his first restful sleep since she was pulled away from him, intent on never letting her go again.

*********

Please send @kmomof4 some birthday love. If anyone deserves it, she certainly does!

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#csff #her heart's home #jrob64 #part II of where her heart belongs #killian's pov #a birthday story for Krystal #happy birthday @kmomof4 #canon divergent #portal transport #wiped memories #cs smut and fluff #cs fanfiction #captain swan fan fiction #captain swan fic #ouat captain swan fanfic

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