#ouat holiday fics
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The City of Lights
A Captain Swan Fanfiction for @jrob64 as part of the CS Gift Exchange 2022.
Surprise! I am your gift exchange writer for this year’s exchange! I hope I nailed your request this year for a modern AU holiday fic! I am going to post this in two parts (because I am incapable of restraint, apparently). Part 2 will be posted on NYE!
Summary: Killian Jones has been waiting for the perfect opportunity to propose to the love of his life, Emma Swan. When he’s presented with the opportunity to whisk her away on a weekend trip to visit the Festival of Lights in Natchitoches, Louisiana, he’s confident that the perfect time will present itself. But even the best laid plans often go awry…
Tagging my usual crew: (want to be added? Let me know!) @xarandomdreamx @kmomof4 @snowbellewells @sotangledupinit @tiganasummertree @zaharadessert
Killian Jones opened the door of his apartment to the sound of his girlfriend, Emma “Swan” Nolan, quoting Steel Magnolias verbatim as the television blared in the background. Emma was spread out on the couch, trying to cover every square inch of its surface with her body, blankets, and pillows, eating peanut butter straight out of the jar and quoting lines as if she were Shelby Eatenton herself. He smiled at the sight she presented.
“You’re as bad as Mary Margaret, I hope you realize,” he called to the blonde, causing her to jump, as she didn’t hear the door open.
“You’re home early!” Emma exclaimed, smiling to see him but not moving from her spot on the couch. “Slow shift?”
“Aye, it was. I’m technically still on call for the next thirty minutes, but it should stay quiet.” Killian removed his Boston PD jacket and placed his radio on the counter, making sure to turn the dial on the volume loud enough to hear it should he get called out.
Emma hummed, turning her attention back to the movie for a moment, quoting the lines, “My colors are blush and bashful” with the practiced ease of someone who had seen the movie dozens of times before.
Killian moved to sit on the arm of the couch. “Would you want the colors of your wedding to be blush and bashful, love?”
Emma’s eyes widened and she made a shocked trilling sound in the back of her throat. “Woah, woah, woah,” she started, wholeheartedly engaging in the game of cat and mouse they always partook when the subject was brought up. Though Emma was not opposed to marriage (in fact, she was actually hoping that wedding bells would ring in the very near future), it was a running gag amongst all her friends and family that just the hint of white lace would set her running for the hills.
Killian held his hand up, cutting off her reply, and inserted, “Calm down, Swan, I’m not proposing.” His eyes were on the screen so he missed the disgusted, let down expression that crossed her face at his words. “I’m merely curious since this is your favorite movie if you would ever want to use the same color scheme.”
Emma huffed. “I like blush and bashful well enough, but I wouldn’t want them together,” she replied tersely, a little annoyed with her boyfriend of three years.
Killian had brushed off any mentions of their making their relationship legal, a fact which Emma played off in front of their friends (especially her brother and his wife, Mary Margaret) but Emma secretly loathed. She had been hinting for weeks and weeks that she was ready, but he either was playing dumb or he truly didn’t pick up on her hints. She was about ready to admit that maybe she needed to be a little less subtle in her desires, but she wasn’t quite ready to throw in the towel yet. What she didn’t realize was that Killian was very well-aware of her desires and was merely acting in that manner to make her less suspicious of his intentions.
“Too much pink, eh?” Killian smirked.
Emma shrugged and said, “Maybe for you.”
The two fell into a companionable silence as they watched the screen for a few more moments. When a shot of the town the movie was filmed in was shown, Emma said, “I’d love to see where they filmed this.”
Killian frowned. “Where did they film it?”
“I have no idea,” Emma said as she grabbed her phone. After a quick search, she announced, “It was filmed in a place called,” and she paused. “I don’t know how to say this.”
Killian looked at the screen “Natch-uh-toes-es?”
Emma shrugged and scrolled. “It’s in Louisiana, apparently. Just about an hour south of Shreveport on the western side of the state.”
Killian nodded. “You want to go one day?”
Emma scoffed. “There’s nothing there except trees and rednecks with jacked-up trucks, I’m sure.”
Killian took the phone from her and scrolled through some of the information. “It says they have a ‘Festival of Lights’ in December. It’s actually already started.”
Emma gave him a side-eyed look. “That’s just a way to draw tourists in to make money off the unsuspecting people who think there’s more there than there really is.”
Killian nodded in response absentmindedly. An idea was forming in his mind. He knew Emma actually would enjoy that trip, as they had done several like it in times past. She was just trying to downplay how badly she wanted to tour the town so as to cope with the disappointment of not being able to go. The best thing about her job is she could work from just about anywhere, as she worked in bail bonds, which required research online, and only paid her a check upon the successful delivery of the fugitive she was hunting. If she wanted to take a few days’ vacation, then she could with no issues. Killian had some time accumulated with the police force, and it would be nothing more than applying for a few days off.
He continued to look through the pictures of the festival. It looked quaint, with the lighted displays glinting off the water of the Cane River and accompanied by horse-drawn carriage rides. Killian could suddenly feel a hole burning in his pocket, so to speak, at the thought of being able to propose to Emma in that setting. He had bought the ring ages ago and was simply waiting for a moment when the time felt right. Perhaps that would be it? His mind suddenly made up, he handed her back her phone.
Emma took it absentmindedly, her attention already back on the movie. Killian got up and moved to grab his radio even though his shift would end in just a few minutes. He picked it up and carried it with him to the bedroom, where he closed the door and took out his phone to call his shift captain to arrange the vacation time.
Once he had the necessary arrangements made, he called David (who, besides being Emma’s brother, was his partner with the Boston PD) and asked him to help him look at hotels, flights, and other necessities. He also filled David in on his plan for proposing to his sister, a fact of which David was already aware. Within about forty minutes, Killian had plane tickets, a hotel room reserved, a rental car lined up, and was quickly looking up information on the Festival of Lights itself to plan out an itinerary.
He answered Emma when she called out to him wanting to know what he wanted for dinner, and then made his way to the shower to get rid of the dirt and grime that he often felt after a day spent upholding law and order. A satisfied smirk on his face, he began whistling as he turned on the water.
This was going to be a Christmas surprise that Emma would never forget.
After his shower, he discreetly printed the plane tickets, hotel confirmation, rental agreement for the car they would need, and placed all the documents in a Manila folder. Peeking into the living room, he saw that Emma was now sobbing in tears at the scene on the screen of Shelby’s funeral. He smiled at her show of emotion. Emma “Swan” Nolan may wear a layer of red leather as armor, but he knew she was a closet romantic and the sweetest soul he knew. The only person he knew that could even hold a candle to her purity was Mary Margaret, David’s wife and Emma’s sister-in-law, and even she wasn’t on Emma’s level in some ways.
Killian watched Emma watch the screen, appreciating this quiet moment that he never thought he’d get to have. After so many things had nearly torn them apart, from vengeful exes to their own stubbornness in admitting their feelings and then their sometimes dangerous jobs, he had never thought they would get here, but he now had everything he ever wanted.
Lost in his reverie, he didn’t notice when the movie ended and Emma stood up and sauntered over to him, a seductive smile on her face, though tear tracks stained her cheeks. He thought there was no better sight than Emma in sweats and no makeup coming towards him with that look in her eyes.
“Hey, Lieutenant, what’s a girl gotta do to get some company?” She wrapped her arms around him and he reciprocated the gesture, smiling as he did so. “What’s that you’ve got?” She nodded towards the folder.
He lifted it and handed it to her. “See for yourself.”
Emma took the folder and opened it, wondering what was in it. She studied the print-outs for a moment, her brow furrowed, before she realized what she was looking at. “Is this-” she started.
“A trip, fully booked and paid for, for us to go to this Natchitoches place to see where they filmed your second favorite movie in the whole wide world,” he finished for her. “Aye, love. It’s part of my Christmas gift to you.”
Emma’s eyes widened at what he said. “You really booked this for us?”
Killian nodded. “Just this evening. You can’t fool me, Swan, I know you’d love to make that trip. You’re always on about how beautiful the place looks on the screen.”
Emma smiled at him. “Do I want to make that trip?”
Killian smirked. “Well, you’re something of an open book.”
They both laughed and embraced for a long moment. FInally pulling apart, but not completely, Emma gave him a sly smile and a pointed look.
“I believe I should show my gratitude, don’t you think, Lieutenant?”
Killian tapped his lips and returned her sly smile. “Perhaps gratitude is in order now.”
Emma rose up and kissed him fiercely, grabbing his shirt to tug her closer. Dropping the folder, he picked her up to carry her into the bedroom. Everything else could wait. He had his Swan to ravish, first.
Several days later, Emma was desperately trying to pack her carry-on suitcase for their trip. Nothing seemed to be exactly right, though she didn’t know much about the Southern states’ climate having grown up only in the northern states. She had desperately called Mary Margaret over to help, and her sister-in-law had promptly arrived thirty minutes later bearing two hot chocolates in hand, ready to help Emma solve her latest crisis.
“What do you even wear in Louisiana in December?!” Emma shouted in frustration, tugging at her hair as she scanned the contents of her side of the closet. Their plane was set to leave from Logan International in the morning, and she was now only half packed. She had the essentials in her suitcase, like comfortable pajamas and her toiletries, but the actual outfits to wear during the day were still yet to be picked. It was the beginning of winter, and Boston had snow on the ground already, but Louisiana wasn’t a winter state. Did they even get snow? What was their average temperature this time of year? Did she need a swimsuit? Did they go swimming in December? Emma let her head thump against the frame of the closet door in frustration.
“Clothes might be the best option,” David replied, coming in to get Killian’s suitcase to help load it in Killian’s truck so they wouldn’t be lugging heavy bags around in the morning in a rush.
Emma rolled her eyes. “Nah, I think I’ll just wear my tattoo and a smile,” she snarled back at her brother. David grinned and grabbed the packed suitcase, walking out without replying.
Mary Margaret breezed in behind him after a bathroom break, replying as she did so, “Louisiana is usually around mid to low 70s or high 60s during the day at this time of year, and anywhere in the high forties or low 50s at night. They would be warmer or colder, but it usually won’t be by much. Jeans, sweaters, some lighter shirts, a jacket and maybe a hat and gloves and boots, should be all you’ll need for the temperatures.”
Emma looked at her best friend in disbelief, leaning her head against the closet door frame. “Seriously? When did you become an expert in climates of states you’ve never been to?”
Mary Margaret handed Emma her phone with a weather app pulled up that showed a graphic of the same information she just told Emma. “Since I Googled it.”
Emma smiled in response, rolling her eyes as she turned back to her closet. She settled on pulling out her favorite pair of jeans, a pair of leggings, and a skirt that she liked to wear for dates with Killian sometimes. She threw them haphazardly in her suitcase, which caused Mary Margaret to tut in exasperation at her sister-in-law’s messy habits as she grabbed the items to fold them properly.
“Do you want tights to go with this skirt,” Mary Margaret asked as Emma dug for her favorite white Aran knit sweater.
“Yes, can you grab me a pair of black ones?”
Mary Margaret moved to grab the item Emma would need, and when she turned back to place the item in the suitcase, she saw Emma holding a black leather dress with a thoughtful look on her face.
“New dress?” Mary Margaret asked, noticing the tags still on it.
“Yeah,” Emma replied, a little breathlessly. “I bought it as a surprise for Killian for a special celebration.”
The brunette smiled excitedly. “Do you think he’s going to propose on this trip?”
Emma shook her head slightly. “I don’t think he even realizes that’s what I want.”
“Then you should tell him! And pack that dress just in case! If nothing else, you can wear it to tell him you’re ready to take the next step.”
Emma winced a bit. “What if he doesn’t feel the same?” she whispered softly, fearful of the possibility that the answer was that Killian didn’t feel the same as she did.
“Emma!” Mary Margaret chided gently. “Of course he feels the same! He told David that he was ‘in this for the long haul.’ His exact words. A proposal is probably going to happen sooner than you think!”
Emma sighed. “I hope so. I never thought I would find what we have together. I don’t want to lose it.”
Mary Margaret hugged her close and Emma held on tightly to her sister-in-law. “You won’t. And you should bring that dress and a pair of red heels with you on your trip.”
Emma smiled and turned to place the dress in the suitcase. “I think I will.”
Feeling much more centered, Emma quickly grabbed the rest of her items and finished packing. She rolled her bag out to the living room and passed it off to David. Killian was just coming back inside from where he had walked downstairs with David to load up his luggage.
“All set, love?” He asked, taking her in his arms.
Emma nodded contentedly. “All set,” she sighed happily. She held onto him as tight as she could. She couldn’t wait for their next adventure together.
The roar of the planes taking off the next day could be heard in the background as Killian argued with the woman behind the counter at the car rental inside Dallas Fort-Worth International about the rental he had reserved. Emma stood a little ways down the concourse from him watching the planes arrive and depart through one of the windows, though she could still hear his frustration. It seemed that his information and reservation had been lost.
The plane ride from Boston to Dallas had been uneventful. Emma loved quick plane rides that didn’t involve any hassle. She just wanted to get where she needed to be. Having Killian be there to handle any problems they encountered was a blessing to her.
“Well, Swan, it seems we finally have a vehicle. The woman said the drive was a little under four hours if we hit traffic right.” Killian had moved behind her while she was ruminating on her thoughts. She turned and smiled.
“Lead the way.”
They walked out of the airport and to the location of the car. Once they located it, they loaded their luggage and began to make the next part of their journey. Killian sang along to the radio as Emma stared at the scenery. Everything looked very different from home, though it did grow monotonous after a while. After a couple of hours, they arrived in Shreveport and stopped for a quick lunch before continuing south on Interstate 49 to Natchitoches. They arrived at the Natchitoches exit around three in the afternoon. Emma looked at the hotels and fast food joints that surrounded Highway 6 and turned to Killian.
“Is our hotel here?”
He grinned in reply. “I thought we would stay at a more ‘on location’ site and booked us at the Saint Denis Hotel. It’s right along Front Street.”
Emma nodded in understanding and kept watch out of the window. As they came into the outskirts of the city, she noticed a university of some sort to the right.
“Is that Northwestern State University?” She asked.
Killian nodded. “I think so. We have tickets to a show their performing arts center is performing tomorrow night.”
Emma raised her eyebrows in mock disbelief. “Getting fancy on me, aren’t you?”
Killian laughed. “It’s called the Christmas Gala. We’re going to dinner before and then the show starts at 9. I hope you brought something appropriate to wear.” Killian shot her a sly look and licked his lips. Emma laughed in delight, grateful now that she had listened to Mary Margaret’s advice about packing her black leather dress.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” She teased back. Killian grinned wider but didn’t say anything, instead turning his attention back to the road. They drove past the college, eventually turning left onto Jefferson Street.
Up until that point, there had been Christmas lights draped along light poles and various other points, but the moment they turned onto Jefferson, the lights started. As they drove, the road felt as if they were entering a tunnel of multicolored lights. Light strands zigzagged above them, and there were light-drawn figures on every telephone pole. As they drove, they could see some of the scenes that Natchitoches was famous for this time of year. It looked amazing, and it wasn’t even dusk yet.
After trawling through bumper to bumper traffic and getting turned around for a moment or two, they finally arrived. The hotel lobby was decorated in a modern Provencal style that Emma had seen once before during a brief trip to New Orleans during Marci Gras with Killian a couple of years before. Although not as ornate as other places Emma had seen, it still had a homey feel to the place. Check-in was much less of a hassle than getting their rental car was, too, Emma noticed. Once they made it into their room, which was decorated in a similar style, they set their luggage down and Emma flopped onto the bed. Killian sat on the edge, watching her in amusement.
“Tired, love?” He asked. It had been a long day of travel, after all.
Emma closed her eyes and nodded. “A little.”
“What do you think so far?”
“Emma opened her eyes and looked at him. “Well, you’re sitting too prim for me but at least you're on the bed.” Emma shrugged slightly, holding back a teasing grin.
Killian rolled his eyes. “I meant about the town, Swan.”
“I know what you meant,” Emma laughed before continuing, “honestly, it’s all a bit cheesy, but I can see why it’s a popular lights destination for this area. I’ve had fun so far.”
“I’m glad,” Killian replied and bent down to place a soft kiss on her lips, which she happily returned. After several moments, he pulled away and stood. “If you’ll get freshened up, we’ll go walk downtown and scope out the place. I’ve heard they have a lot of great food here.”
Emma smiled and got up and walked to the bathroom. “I’ll be right out,” she said, cocking her hips to the side sassily.
He laughed and returned, “I’ll be waiting.”
Once he was. certain she was ensconced in the shower, the door firmly closed behind her, he let out a shaky breath and put his hand in his pocket. Clasping it in his hand, he pulled out a black velvet box and opened it. The engagement ring was nestled safely inside, the huge center stone glistening in the light coming from the bedside lamps.
Killian wasn’t sure when exactly he was going to propose, but he hoped that tomorrow night might provide the most romantic scene. Surely there would be an opportunity sometime between dinner, the concert, and hopefully a nice stroll along the river taking in the lights. Maybe they would luck out and get to do a carriage ride on one of the horse-drawn carriages he had spotted as they arrived. All he knew was that he couldn't wait any longer. He had had the ring for several months now, but something always stopped him from asking her.
But not this time. When they flew back to Boston in three days’ time, they would be engaged. He knew Emma wanted it just as badly as he did, and there wasn’t anything he wouldn't do to help her have one of the best Christmas seasons of her life. He just hoped he didn’t chicken out once he found the right moment.
An hour later, they were strolling along Front Street taking in the sights. The lights were on, but the sun hadn’t yet set, and Killian knew they would be better once it was dark. The streets were busy, as the area drew in a lot of tourism and the college kids were still in class and would likely continue to be until around the 15th. Emma, in true Emma fashion, found a street vendor who was selling hot chocolate, and they bought a couple of to-go cups and sipped on them as they walked.
They passed a lot of shops, one of which was the Kaffie-Frederick General Mercantile Store, which was a blast from the past that was apparently founded in 1838. They learned from a local working the cash register that the name of the town wasn’t pronounced how it looked.
“It’s pronounced ‘Nack-a-tish,” the friendly-faced woman laughed, seemingly not surprised by their lack of ability at pronouncing the name. “It was the name of a local Native American tribe. You’d actually be surprised how many people come here unable to pronounce it. And don’t even try to ask Siri anything about it. She doesn’t understand the word at all!”
Killian and Emma shared a glance of amazement at just how wrong they had gotten the name, quickly wrapping up their purchases. After they deposited their purchases in their room, it was late enough for them to grab dinner at one of the restaurants on Front Street, a place called Mama’s that was adjoined to another place called Papa’s. Dinner passed quickly with both enjoying the live music playing and being together in a place where they had no worries. Killian kept sneaking glances at her when she was watching the band, struck by how happy and relaxed she looked.
Perhaps this was the moment? Should he get down on one knee now? Though he hadn’t planned on asking for her hand tonight, it seemed as if this time could be the time. His hand drifted to the pocket of his leather jacket and gripped the black box residing in it. Emma laughed at something the lead singer said (what it was, Killian couldn’t have said, because nothing existed but Emma and this moment), and he pulled the box out.
“Emma?” He called, a little louder than normal so as to be heard over the din.
She turned and looked at him, smiling brightly. “Yeah, babe?”
He broke off for a moment as she looked at him expectantly. The words he wanted to say, of adoration and forever and will you be mine, got stuck in his throat. He cleared it, and grabbed her hand. “I love you,” he stated a little flatly, let down by his inability to say what he wanted.
Emma chuckled softly. “I love you, too,” she replied. “Are you okay? You looked almost nervous just now.”
“I’m fine, love.” He looked down at the table for a moment, caressing her hand with his thumb, before he looked up and caught her eyes again. “We’ve been together for a while, haven’t we? Shared many adventures together?” He asked, trying to buy some time to get his thoughts together.
Emma tilted her head a bit in confusion. “Aye,” she responded, teasing. “Why do you bring it up? You’re not breaking up with me are you?” Her face fell at the unpleasant thought, and Killian’s heart skipped a beat at her words.
“Of course not! I would never- I want you by my side always!”
Emma’s face relaxed from relief. “Oh, good. That’s good because I feel the same way.”
“I can’t believe you would think I’d take you all this way to break up with you,” Killian responded, momentarily derailed from the romantic speech he didn’t have planned to ask the question he knew that both of them wanted yet fully paralyzed him with fear at articulating to her.
Emma laughed and shrugged. “Stranger things have happened to me before.”
“Indeed, they have,” Killian responded, not continuing as the waitress came over to see if they needed anything else. Once they had settled the bill with her, they had silently agreed that it was a good time to head back to their room. Killian lamented that the moment had passed, but he also couldn’t help but feel some relief. If he couldn’t get out the question without botching it up, then he shouldn’t ask it until he could do so without making her question if he’s about to end their relationship.
After they had been walking for a moment or two, Emma said, “So why did you bring up how long we’ve been together?”
Killian looked out at the scene before them, of the glimmer of the lights on the Cane River and the romantic atmosphere of the quaint college town. “I was just thinking about how much we’ve seen and done,” he finally responded before looking at her. “There’s no one else I’d rather go through life with.”
Emma smiled and stopped them from walking any further. She leaned up and gave him a long, slow, soft kiss, one that Killian gladly returned. Their mouths moved in the perfect sync that came from years of devotion and adoration. Killian drew her further into his embrace, wrapping his arms around her as she moved one hand to clench in his hair and the other to cup the back of his neck. Neither carried the kiss much further, aware as they were of being in the middle of a public sidewalk with many other people around them for the festivities, but the heat that always seemed to simmer between them was stoked to a higher flame.
As they both pulled away from the kiss, Killian rested his forehead against hers. He looked into her eyes, asking a silent question, one that Emma responded to with a similar look. They both turned and quickly finished the trek back to their hotel room. Once inside, they gave into the passion and love that consumed them in the dance of lovers as old as time itself. After they lay sated and entwined, Killian briefly thought of asking her then, but when he turned his head to broach the subject, he saw that Emma lay peacefully asleep. Smiling, he tugged her closer and gave into the exhaustion that ebbed at his consciousness. There was always tomorrow, after all.
#ouat holiday fics#ouat#captain swan au#captain swan fanfic#csge22#captain swan gift exchange#captain hook#emma swan#killian jones#anmylica writes#for jrob64#once upon a time#cs ff
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Self Promo Sunday: 3 Thanksgiving Stories
Alright folks, this week you get three stories in one promo. There are so many wonderful Halloween-themed and Christmas-themed CS stories, but I have always wished there were more centered around our pirate and princess (and the rest of the OuaT gang) celebrating Thanksgiving together. Over the years, I’ve written a few myself, and I couldn’t choose between them this morning, so I’ve included all three in this week’s self-promo post.
They can also be found on AO3 and ff.net. If that’s your preference, just look for the links below:
“And All the Trimmings” AO3 ff.net
“We Gather Together (Glad for the Blessings)” AO3 ff.net
“Bless What is Given You” AO3
Some Thanksgiving fluff written during 5B as I anxiously hoped for them to return from the Underworld with their hero party still intact and a pirate in tow. Nods to CS, Snowing, and OQ in here (I even intended on trying to work in Rumbelle, but it didn’t happen) Anyway, think that’s it. Enjoy – and please let me know what you think if you’re so inclined!
“Charming?” his lovely wife’s voice rings brightly from the loft’s small kitchen right into the erstwhile Prince of the Enchanted Forest’s ears as he bustles through the door of their apartment, arms full of groceries and cheeks red from the first deep chill and frost of the year. “Is that you?”
“Yes, Snow, I’m back!” he calls, bemused smile quirking up one side of his mouth. A chuckle escapes David Nolan’s throat at how happy and excited his Princess sounds. Setting his purchases on the table until he can hang his coat back on its peg, he shakes his head with affectionate good humor and goes to meet her in the kitchen.
If he’s honest with himself, David is nearly as anxious and thrilled as Snow. After all, their entire family, with all its odd, extended members, will soon be gathered here with them for the first Thanksgiving holiday they have celebrated together. His heart swells at the very idea – even if at the same time he has to simply hope the whole thing will really manage to go off without a hitch…or any bloodshed.
“Looking for these?” he asks with happy teasing in his voice as he enters the kitchen, sets the several plastic bags from the market on the counter, and leans over the center island to plant a kiss on Snow’s upturned lips.
“Yep,” she chirps, beaming at him as they part and reaching in to begin unpacking, “I was.”
Charming moves back into the front dining area, preparing the table and making sure they have enough chairs, that the candles and centerpieces Snows wants are out, and letting her get back to her cooking in the meantime. Between the homemade noodles, green beans, and the mashed potatoes and gravy his wife has simmering all at once, Charming is impressed she can keep everything going without setting anything on fire, much less have the whole apartment smelling good enough to make him drool, and he certainly doesn’t want to distract her from it. No matter how long they have been married, or what realm they find themselves in, it doesn’t take long for Snow to prove that she will never cease to surprise and amaze him.
He has just stepped back to survey his handiwork proudly when the doorbell rings. Swiftly moving forward to answer it before Snow comes running, Charming’s smile grows even wider as Henry bursts into the room, greeting him enthusiastically and launching right into a story of their hectic morning. He is followed by Roland, who is practically bouncing up and down in place and vibrating with rambunctious energy, his deep dimples cracking wide across his face. After their two boys come Robin and Regina, each laden with items that Charming attempts to help take off their hands.
Robin hands over the delectably scented and delicious-looking turkey, beaming proudly as he gives a nod toward the perfectly crisped and golden brown bird on the platter, which has clearly been charmed in some way by Regina to stay warm and ready to place on the table. “Caught it myself, Mate,” Robin says. “Should be a good one.”
Charming sets the turkey on the long dining table he has just finished with, then claps his friend on the shoulder and ushers him in. “I’m sure it will be. Thanks,” he answers.
Robin slings an insulated bag off his shoulder and holds it forward as well. “Regina’s apple tarts,” he explains with both a mischievous smile and a shrug of feigned innocence. The former thief knows the rest of the family’s understandable aversion to the fruit, but he also somewhat adores his beloved’s rather twisted sense of humor and refusal to shy away from her past by making a dish that highlights the difference in her now and just how far she has come. With a wink, he tacks on, “Taste tested them myself, and they’re irresistible.”
The archer moves past, on into the loft to greet Snow and to catch and corral his young son. Regina raises a sculpted brow at David as she enters after Robin, their new little girl sleeping cradled in her arms and a diaper bag slung over her shoulder. Though David knows all too well that having a newborn in the home can be harrying, the formerly evil Queen looks as completely polished and put together as always – not a hair out of place. “Charming,” she greets with a wry nod, somehow managing to inject even the simplest hello with her trademark dry sarcasm. They may be on the same side now, fumbling towards being a truly non-dysfunctional family, but he somehow feels that her half-mocking way of using the name Snow gave him will never change, and perhaps – in Regina’s own way – it is meant as an endearment.
Peeking into the layers of lavender blanket bundled around Robin and Regina’s little daughter to shield her from the biting wind outside, Charming can’t help a soft grin at the sweet, perfect infant sleeping peacefully, the softest wisps of russet curls on her little head and her soft, pale pink skin. “She’s lovely, Regina,” he murmurs in quiet awe, not wanting to rouse little Mariana, and feeling a flood of affection for this woman who once hunted he and Snow, wanting both of their heads, but who also saved Snow’s life as a child, and has clawed her way back from the bottom to right her wrongs.
Before he can close the door behind her, Emma and Killian come tramping up the hall stairs, cheeks flushed and both laughing at some unknown joke between them, but greeting him heartily as they see that he is standing there watching. Emma reaches David first, falling into her dad’s arms and returning his hug exuberantly before reaching back to pull Killian in as well when he hesitates, effectively sandwiching herself between the two of them in a three-way hug. The laugh that rings from his daughter’s throat, light and open and at last free of the guilt and pain she had been saddled with for too long, is all David needs to be as grateful this Thanksgiving as at any he can remember.
“Thanks Dad,” Emma mumbles almost bashfully when she does ease back and both she and her pirate boyfriend pull away. They follow him into the house, their food contributions in hand.
“Aye, thank you for having us, Mate,” Killian adds with a dip of his chin as they all step through the door and he shuts it behind himself. He offers his love’s father a genuine smile when their gazes meet, Emma having busied herself with hanging up their jackets and removing her boots. For a moment, David is frozen in place, forcibly reminded of how Killian had looked just a few weeks before, when they had found him in the black depths of the Underworld. As long as any of them live, David fears the sight of Killian Jones which had greeted them beyond the Veil would be hauntingly branded on their souls. Chained to a dank stone wall in the furthest recesses of Hades’ domain, the shade of a pirate that they’d found was not the dashing rapscallion they knew. Though bearing his torment in stoic silent, he had been emaciated and shivering, the dark rings under his eyes clearly showing that Killian had known no sleep nor peace since he left their world. The rest of the rescue party had stood horrified as Emma fell to her knees before him, tears pouring down her face while she reached out to cup his bearded cheeks in her hands. Worse than all that though had been the blank, almost unseeing despair in blue eyes that had always been so full of life; the vacancy in their depths no longer seemed like Killian at all and had truly made their blood run cold.
To see that spark back in Jones’ smiling gaze, and the dark bruises beneath his eyes fading, reminds David forcibly just how much they do have to celebrate before he clears his throat to respond with hoarse emotion. “Of course. We’re glad to have everyone. Snow’s really trying to outdo herself.”
Without further ado, David soon finds his family gathered around the table, talking, laughing and reveling in the warmth and happiness of the occasion. There is good natured ribbing at Emma’s continued inability to cook and a playful debate over whether or not the bottoms of several of the butter horn rolls she had made were more burnt than a nice golden brown. Mariana wakes from her nap and begins to gurgle and coo at everyone she can see gathered around her. Snow gushes over the pecan pie that Emma grudgingly admits Killian had made, complete with perfectly crimped edges of crust and an ornate little ‘KJ’ carved into the crunchy sugared top. ‘Figures,” Charming hears his daughter grumble with teasing chagrin, “He can cook circles around me with only one hand.”
Snow is quick to assure her daughter that she will get better with practice, but Killian only smirks at Emma, looking entirely as though he wants her to either smack or kiss the grin off his face. “Well, I had to sign such artwork, Swan,” he counters playfully. “You might have tried to take credit for it otherwise.”
The whole table laughs and carries on, but is quickly more absorbed in eating than talking, just comfortable in each other’s presence and enjoying a quiet moment. David looks to the other end of the long table and catches Snow’s eye, perfectly understanding the misty look he finds there. This was all either of them had ever wanted: a family, all together, happy and safe. It is what they had sacrificed so much for their best chance at preserving. He smiles at his True Love, marveling that two other pairs of True Loves sit in this very room with them, and tucks into his own meal at last. Now that they have all found each other, this family has every blessing it could possibly need.
~*~ Post s6 Thanksgiving fluff; Other than Robin being alive, and Belle not being reconciled with Rumple, I don’t think there is any reason this couldn’t fit into the timeline somewhere after the CS wedding. There aren't a lot of Thanksgiving fics in this fandom, despite all the Halloween and Christmas ones, and so I thought I would try to do my part with this little one shot – especially seeing as it's a holiday I truly love, and I would adore being able to watch the whole Charming-Swan-Jones-Mills family get to relax, break bread together, and just enjoy a "quiet moment" or two.
Barreling into the kitchen calling out "Henry?! Killian?!", Emma Swan was already well into panic mode due to the charred, burning smell that had reached her nostrils as soon as she'd mounted the steps to the front porch and the plumes of grey smoke wafting into her vision in the entryway once she opened the door. She was skidding to a stop at the kitchen table before she realized that though the fire alarm had been bleating raucously, there were no sounds of panic or yells of dismay. Instead, though both of her True Loves were now frozen, looking to her guiltily as if caught with their hands painted red - Killian bent over the open stove and Henry with his arm outstretched, fanning the air with a hot pad - they appeared to have been happy as clams until her sudden entrance..
Clearly they weren't in any immediate danger, and Emma's posture relaxed upon seeing the house wasn't burning down and neither her son nor her pirate was blackened to a crisp. Shaking her head at them both, she genuinely tried to look stern instead of both relieved and ready to burst out laughing. Crossing her arms, she mused aloud, "Do I even want to know what the two of you are doing?"
Sighing in defeat, Killian stood to his full height, letting the oven door bang closed and not quite meeting her reproving gaze as he raked a hand through his hair, darted a quick glance at Henry, then finally answered her question. "We were trying to help you, Swan. It seemed prudent to get started with the main course before hosting your entire family tomorrow, and the lad felt sure he could offer guidance on the proceedings."
Henry flushed as Killian gestured toward him, and shrugged sheepishly, looking up at her with big brown eyes that, though in an older face, still proved as irresistible to her as when he'd showed up on her doorstep as a ten-year-old. "I may have overestimated how closely I was watching my other mom the last time she did this."
Emma couldn't help it; her metabolism did tick up a few notches and her eyes widened in shocked dismay. "Oh no, don't tell me… Do you mean to say you guys ruined that 19 pound Butterball I had all ready in the freezer?"
Killian winced a bit at her reaction. "Come now, Lass, it isn't as if we did it on purpose. You were just saying last night how you wanted everything to be perfect, you've never been able to celebrate a real family Thanksgiving with all the trimmings before, and everything should be just right. We only wished to help you along."
Emma gave an exaggerated nod as she responded, "Ah, I see," before a knowing light slipped into her eyes while studying one and then the other to see who would crack first. "Just selfless action from the good of your hearts, was it?"
Henry nodded, pulling off a ridiculously innocent look, but Killian couldn't quite meet her gaze, peeking up at her from beneath the fringe of his dark hair and eyelashes like a poor, repentant rascal. "Well, Swan, if the truth be told, we might have become a bit distracted…"
"I thought so," she affirmed with one last quick, triumphant dip of the head.
"Yes, well," Killian hemmed and hawed adorably, and Emma was almost afraid she might bite through her lip trying not to laugh out loud, the whole kitchen mishap long forgiven, but watching him stutter in embarrassment like he often caused her to do was too priceless to end just yet. "Love, your boy's moving picture box sucks a man in with its programs. Are you sure it doesn't possess some sort of hypnotic magic of its own? Perhaps we should not let Henry…"
"Okay, okay, hold up," Henry broke in anxiously, not about to see his stepdad - much as he might love him - relegate him back to the Stone Age with concern over modern technology.
Emma couldn't hold back her dissolution into helpless giggles any longer, and Killian stopped short with an affronted look at the noisy interruption from both of them at once. After a few moments, Emma reined in her laughter, assured Henry he wouldn't be losing all television privileges, and turned with the both of them to survey the wreck that had been her nice, clean kitchen when she'd left that morning, hands on hips. "Well boys, let's see what we can salvage," she said at last.
OoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooO
In the end, the turkey is magicked to golden brown perfection for the holiday meal. Emma had hoped to succeed at doing it the old fashioned way, but after seeing the damage Killian and Henry had wrought with their attempt – and though she only admitted it to herself, knowing either one of them was better in the kitchen than she was, when not unfortunately sidetracked – she decided there was no sense in further risking the main course she intended to serve to company.
She, Killian, and Henry did spend a warm, domestic, evening making the accompanying side dishes together. After placing a tray of butterhorn rolls in the oven to cook, Emma turned to see Henry flip a spoonful of cranberry sauce at Killian, hitting him square on the nose and making him jerk back in surprise at the splat of impact.
"Hey now," her pirate warned, glowering as he raised a spoonful of stuffing for a counterattack.
Emma thought idly that she should be warning them not to waste food, not to destroy their kitchen for a second time in one day, and basically chide them both to behave themselves, but instead she could merely watch as author and pirate mounted a giddy food fight she eventually joined, hugging herself tightly so she didn't simply burst with the joy swelling up inside her, so full of gratitude for both of them, for a home and family at last, and for this moment in which to enjoy it all. Thanksgiving, indeed.
That night when Henry had settled into his own room and the house had grown quiet, Emma stopped Killian as he left the bathroom after brushing his teeth, biting her lip at the all-too-inviting sight of him in dark blue lounge pants with little white anchors printed on them that he wore for sleep and all that dark hair on his toned and scarred chest. He looked upon her with a curious quirk to his brow, but didn't question her, only wrapped his arms around her waist and brought his forehead to rest against her own.
Enveloped in his warmth, Emma grew almost dizzy at the minty fresh breath he exhaled against her neck and nearly lost her train of thought altogether, but she pulled out the item she had intended to show him. It was the wishbone from their turkey, and she held it out for him to see. "Do you know what this is?"
"Aye," Killian answered, though she could tell by his expression he had no clue why she would draw his attention to it. "It's some part of that fowl we prepared for tomorrow's feast, but why…"
He trailed off when she twined the fingers of her free hand with his and brought his hand up to grip the opposite end of the wishbone from the one she held. "They're for wishing on," she explained briefly, playful mirth in her eyes. "People pull them apart and whoever gets the larger piece makes a wish that is then supposed to come true."
"Alright Lass, if you say so," he agreed gamely, a bit of a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth now as well.
Holding her breath, Emma thought of all the times she had wanted to do this as a kid and had never been the one who got the wishbone. Or all the times as an adult that she'd had it, but no one in her empty apartment to hold the other end, or to appreciate the wish she'd made, nor share in her joy if it did come to fruition. As the fragile bone snapped and they looked down to the pieces in their hands, Emma and Killian found it had broken almost evenly, and so she whispered, not wanting to break the calm stillness in the room, "Let's say we both wish…together."
Killian merely nodded and closed his eyes as she did. When she opened them again, it was to meet his blue, blue gaze shining back at her. She had the feeling they'd wished for the exact same thing…many more years of holidays like this.
OooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooO
The blessed feeling carried over to the family dinner the next day. Sitting at the head of the long table in the dining room of a home of her very own – hers, Henry's and Killian's – the first time she'd ever had such a thing, Emma felt as though the whole scene was bathed in some sort of golden light, like she was living inside a perfect Norman Rockwell painting. The table surface was packed, crammed, overloaded with food – from the golden brown, crisp-skinned, turkey and their perfectly toasted, flaky butterhorns to Regina's apple dumplings, green beans, noodles, mashed potatoes, stuffing, and cranberry sauce. The ten-year-old foster child inside her nearly drools at the bounty, never quite able to banish the breakfasts, lunches, and dinners missed, the times she had sat alone in some cafeteria, eyes fixed on the food other students carelessly tossed in the bins which she would have loved to have while she had been packed nothing to eat and had no money to buy even a carton of milk, of the times she had gone to bed in a rickety bunk, stomach growling and unable to stop fixating on those cabinets full of snacks that were off limits. Seeing Henry to her right, ruffling his hair affectionately for just a second before he turned to grin at her proudly, clearly pleased their time spent cooking the previous evening had given them this much to show for it, she could only rejoice that he had never known such days, and the neither she nor Killian ever would again.
She gave her father a nod of confirmation where he sat at the other end of the table, leading him to grin widely, the warm look of love and happiness on his face making her feel even more that this moment right here really was all she had been missing – all she had ever wanted – all those years she spent alone. As David stood to carve the turkey and Snow alternated between beaming up at her husband proudly and passing the plates now loaded up with juicy slices of turkey down the table, Emma squeezed Killian's hand with her left, and he cut a knowing glance at her, showing clearly that he understood and felt it too.
Beside Henry sat Belle, then Snow, and across from Henry were Regina, Robin, and Roland. It would seem that their family continued to grow and warmly open to welcome into its circle anyone with nowhere else to belong on this day meant to be spent with loved ones. As she had wished for that very thing each holiday season for 28 years, Emma could think of no better nor more heroic thing for her family to do.
Once everyone had been served – both turkey and all the other dishes filling the long table – Killian stood with raised glass, even as Emma tapped her spoon against her own to garner everyone's attention for him. "A toast, mates, if I may," Killian announced jovially in that rich, enticing voice. Emma shivered slightly at the way its tones thrilled through her, though trying to give no outward sign; she would gladly listen to him read the ingredients of the box for the stuffing, but she knew everyone else was hungry and ready to dig in, so her heart swelled just that much more when the others around their table dutifully paused and turned to listen to him with genuine interest and agreement.
"I daresay I shan't keep us from this delectable feast for long," her pirate intoned, "but I have more to be grateful for this year than I have ever possessed in my ridiculously long life, and my thanks must be offered…"
He paused, meeting the eyes of each of those gathered around the table briefly, and then continued with a fervent tone which came out sounding a bit choked with emotion. "When I first arrived in this realm, still lost in my bitterness, anger, and thirst for revenge, I could not have imagined a day like this, full of peace, love, and gratitude. Emma, Love, when you offered me the chance to join you and be a part of something, and we undertook that desperate quest to Neverland, the idea that we could come to belong to each other as we do now, that you would hold my heart in your very palm, or that I would find myself with a true family again, seemed inconceivable. Yet, I am so glad you gave me that last chance, like a line thrown in the drink to a drowning man. It saved my life, turned me back around to the man I once meant to be. My thankfulness to be here with all of you today cannot be adequately expressed." He swallowed hard, dipped his head, and then took his seat again. "You have all blessed us with your presence at our table."
"Cheers!" everyone else agreed, raising their glasses to clink with each other around the table, several other eyes misty and voices husky with feeling besides their captain's. Emma blinked quite a bit herself, glancing around at their motley crew.
Her fingers reached across to trail lightly over Killian's shoulder, stroking his back soothingly for a few moments and then rising to delve playfully into the dark hair at the nape of his neck. Brushing gently through the soft strands, Emma smiled affectionately as his head inclined slightly toward her, thinking humorously that if he were a cat, her sailor would be nearly purring in contentment right now. This moment deserved to be captured – preserved – in her mind forever; she couldn't feel any more stuffed with grateful satisfaction.
OooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooO
It was nearly midnight when the last of their guests had been seen to the door and out into the chilly dark of Storybrooke's nighttime streets. Henry had gone with Regina; they had a tradition of shopping, followed by decorating the mayor's mansion for Christmas, and then capping the evening off with homemade apple turnovers running over with icing on their day after Thanksgiving. Emma marveled at Henry's blithely forgiving ability to still eat the things with relish after nearly dying from one bit of just such a poisoned pastry also made by Regina long ago. Still, she couldn't deny she was also glad to have her pirate to herself this night – a true quiet moment for the two of them.
They were curled around each other on the couch in the living room, watching flames crackle merrily in the fireplace, feet up on the coffee table, each of them enjoying a sweet taste of leftover pumpkin pie.
"Open up, Darling," Killian urged, fork upraised to her lips with a piece of sticky filling and flaky crust adorned with the sweet white topping she loved. Emma really didn't need him to feed her, but she playfully went along with his gesture and hummed in pleasure when the flavors exploded on her tongue.
"Mhmm, really good," she mumbled, her mouth still full, but nodding her head and moving to get a piece on her own fork and return the favor for him.
Killian's deep, reverberating chuckle stopped her though, and he leaned forward just enough to wrap his lips around the tip of her nose, licking off the bit of whipped cream he'd gotten on her moments before. It was a mostly innocent gesture, but his proximity, the warmth of the near kiss, and the fact that they were truly – finally – alone, relaxed, and had nowhere else to be had her heart hammering triple time as she sat up quickly, unfolded her legs and pulled him up with her.
"Come on, Pirate," she spoke a little breathlessly, a devilish gleam in her eyes, "we can finish this later."
It didn't take him long to catch on and follow her eagerly, still chuckling with his hand in hers, as she picked up the can of whipped cream from the coffee table where she'd placed it earlier and hurriedly pulled him upstairs.
This last Thanksgiving rerun was originally written as a birthday gift for a shipmate; there’s a nod to a missing moment from 3x19, but then it jumps to post s6 in Storybrooke, to all of them in their happy beginnings…
“Do you mean to tell me you think you know better than a queen?” Regina’s haughty voice practically dripped disdain from each clipped, precise syllable she spoke. The perfect arch of her sculpted brow rose in question, disbelief and disapproval clear on her challenging, flawless face, even if her tone had not made her opinion more than apparent. “My mother was Rumplestiltskin’s most prized pupil; he sought me out himself to train me as well, chose me to cast his precious Dark Curse… Do you honestly think the fact that you can scare off a few monkeys with your arrows and you’ve been squatting in his deserted castle makes you a better judge of...of…” Even though she spoke the “you” as though her mouth was swallowing something foul and her face scrunched up accordingly, it seemed that the formerly Evil Queen was at a rare loss for words to express just how ridiculous the very idea was.
Unfazed, the scruffy archer gazed right back at her cheekily, seeming more than a bit amused by her ruffled feathers and inability to continue. “Not sure that is quite the distinction you’re making it out to be, Milady,” he offered with a smirk.
From across the way, Snow couldn’t seem to resist chiming in with the outlaw who had once befriended a princess on the run; who, in what now seemed like another life had helped her fine-tune her skills with a bow and advised her on spots in the forest where one could most easily hunt game to eat without encountering Regina’s guards. Though Snow had long since made the choice to put their painful and sordid history in the past, there was something that teased a warble of delighted laughter up her throat at the sight of this bandit who once graced “Wanted” posters by her side agitating Regina to the point of losing all her icy, polished reserve. “It is a bit of a dubious honor, Regina, you have to admit.”
Charming beside her dipped his head to hide the chuckle rumbling in his chest as well, reaching across their round council table’s polished surface to squeeze her hand. The shepherd-prince consort would have been lying if he refused to admit there wasn’t a part of him who enjoyed watching her Majesty flunder for her unaffected poise. It went without saying that the curse they were speaking of had ripped he and Snow apart and taken their daughter from his arms almost the moment she was born; consigning them all to 28 lonely years of misery. The truth was that plain and that simple, but he wisely held his tongue. At least since his recent pirate friend had gone off on his own after their arrival back in their land, Robin was someone to break a bit of the tension and who might lighten all of their dark and despairing moods once in a while.
As they returned to discussing the plan to raid Gold’s castle here in their home realm, knowing Zelena had holed up in the Dark One’s stronghold - with Rumplestiltskin himself still prisoner - it became clear it was really the only method they had left to try, to hope that the man who always knew so much more than anyone else would also know some way out of this mess, some way to stop Regina’s rage and envy fueled half-sister. Belle across the table looked pale and strained, her lips pressed together in a thin line but determined, needing to help in whatever way she could. Even if they couldn’t free her True Love, even if his mind were already too fractured by his near death, the half-possession that had held his son’s mind within his body as well, and then that son’s violent loss, he wouldn’t want things to continue as they were; with him under Zelena’s control and bent to her will. Belle had to cling to that truth if nothing else.
Seeming to sense her flagging spirit, Charming saw Leroy sitting next to her place a clumsily large, axe-calloused hand over her slender, tiny one and give it a reassuring squeeze. The dwarf leaned over to whisper encouragingly to the petite beauty, and the prince realized that even within his inner circle of friends and allies there were deeper friendships, and stories leading to them, that he didn’t know, as Belle’s petite frame relaxed and her tense shoulders lowered slightly at the stout little man’s clearly welcomed assurances. The former shepherd thought he just made out the kind, if gruffly voiced, words, “Hang in there, Sister, the battle ain’t over yet.” Charming smiled; that might as well be a mantra for all of them.
~~~~~~~~~****
Robin of Locksley, otherwise known in the Enchanted Forest these days by his more colorful moniker of Robin Hood, simply could not seem to help it. He knew something about him - be it his cavalier attitude towards risk and danger, his leisurely and rather lax methods of ruling over his crew (Can he help it if he’d trust them with his life and has never had cause to question their loyalty or skill?), or perhaps it was just his very form and person she objected to. Whatever the case may be, he couldn’t help goading her Majesty, rattling that posh control of which the woman seemed so proud. Behind the cool and haughty veneer Regina Mills carefully wore, he sensed something injured - fragile, even - though she would be appalled at the thought that any weakness showed, he had no doubt of that. The irony, of course, was that bit of a chink in her flawless armor was the one thing that kept him from dismissing her as another selfish, cruel royal stepping on the backs of those less fortunate to get ahead. Her tiny show of pained humanity, the loneliness hidden behind those large dark eyes, beguiled him no matter how hard he tried to resist; drew his empathy where otherwise he would have had only scorn for her past actions and the villain she had been.
They were in the Dark Castle; seemingly, hopefully, having escaped Zelena’s notice so far, but stymied by a large door into the chamber where Rumplestiltskin had to be imprisoned. They had searched the entire rest of the castle and found it empty. None of them were foolish enough, however, to assume that the fact that they had not yet seen the Wicked Witch meant that the way ahead was safe or that she had not laid hidden snares for any intruders. Particularly not if this door were the barrier beyond which she was hiding the powerful being she meant to both use and prove herself to. There had been no other closed doors until this one, after all.
With a huff of impatience, as if she couldn’t be bothered to waste another second of her time - even with safety - the former Queen reached forward, her perfectly manicured hand nearly to the golden inlaid handle despite the Princess Snow’s warnings for caution and the Lady Belle’s wise suggestion that they wait. What appeared as bold unconcern and decisiveness radiated down her spine of steel, held ramrod-straight, but there was a slight tremor in those pale fingers, one he would have missed if he hadn’t been seeking it, just before they closed around the polished metal.
Some strange shiver of foreboding knowledge borne of a life in the forest, in the shadows, constantly on the move, pursued and on the run, made some more than tangible knowledge run through him, and Robin’s limbs and muscles were reacting before his mind issued a conscious order. Knowing the proud woman plowing ahead would not heed any words he called out anyway, he had silently reached over his shoulder, pulled an arrow from his quiver, nocked it to his bow, and let it fly before another moment passed, startling Regina enough as its course whistled past her ear to make her jerk back several steps.
The feathered missile embedded in the heavy oaken portal with the solid “thunk” of a shot ringing true, but to the horror of all, rather than remaining there, vibrating from its landing, the arrow was lost from sight as the entire door was engulfed in instantaneous flames.
Watching the blaze which would undoubtedly have devoured her as well had he allowed her to touch that door before loosing his arrow, Regina paused for mere moments before whipping around, dark eyes flashing, to arrest him angrily. “That arrow nearly took off my head!” she barked, voice as sharp as jagged glass.
Robin shot back, unable to keep himself from rising to the bait. Her lack of gratitude didn’t even surprise him by that point, but he hadn’t intended to be chastised for his quick-thinking aversion of danger either. “Where I come from a simple thank you would have sufficed.”
The regent’s black eyebrow rose in eloquent derision, making her opinion of where he came from quite clear without speaking a word. Yet, despite that hateful, snarling facade he could see the slight tremor he had previously noticed in her pale hands become a full-body quivering that, while still not plainly visible, had to be making it hard for her to remain standing, much less glaring at him with such vitriol. Her full, blood-red-painted lips trembled minutely as well until her perfect white teeth bit into the lower one, stilling it and making him swallow heavily with some reaction he couldn’t explain. She was shaken; that much he knew. But he could understand refusing to admit fear, not being able to let it show for the sake of those who follow, who must see strength to stay their course.
Thankfully, the clearly magical blaze soon expired and the way before them was as clear and unbarred as all the previous entryways they had encountered. Not without a bit of trepidation, but also as brave and determinedly as he had long since learned their hero contingent to be, Prince Charming and Snow pressed forward, followed anxiously by Belle (whom Robin’s heart panged for as she clearly ached to find the man she loved still able to recognize her and navigate his own mind) and the rest of their group. Regina just to the side, looked for all the world as if she were in no particular hurry to enter and see her former mentor, but could instead care less one way or the other. Hanging back, the outlaw of Sherwood Forest made sure the others had passed through the door and into the other room, well out of hearing, before he stepped up to Regina’s side, drawing almost nose-to-nose with her. He then leaned forward practically brushing the shell of her ear as he murmured. “There’s no need to pretend you’re made of stone, your Majesty…” He put precise emphasis on the title that she had let him know in no uncertain terms that she preferred upon their first meeting in the forest. “In fact, with the present company, I believe you might get much further by letting them see that you have doubts and fears, just as they do. I know I like you much better seeing you as more than the Evil Queen.”
At her sharp intake of air with his last pronouncement, he pulled back quickly, half expecting a slap to be stinging his skin at any moment. Instead, he found color rising hotly up her neck, her chest rising and falling strenuously in that ridiculously low-cut corseted gown, and her generally looking more flustered and affected than he had ever seen her before.
She opened and closed her mouth soundlessly for several seconds until her tart tongue seemed to return to her, then spit out a quick, “Insolent bandit,” before moving to brush past him and follow the others.
Something in Robin snapped and surged to life in answer to her challenge; not allowing her to push him aside, he grasped her upper arm firmly and held on, her back to the wall and crowding in close to her, until their breaths were mingling in the same air, their faces were so close. Even as his pulse pounded and his heart rate skyrocketed, Robin wondered what had come over him. The woman had maimed and killed, schemed and plotted for her own selfish ends, and stood for everything he had devoted himself to toppling. She was nothing like his beloved Marian had been; someone with whom he would not have imagined sharing a thing in common - and yet he couldn’t fight the pull he felt. The need to imprint upon her not to put her life at risk so needlessly again.
Sweeping forward, he dove into an all-consuming kiss, taking her mouth with his and giving no quarter, delving further instead, and swallowing the whimper and hum that escaped her throat unconsciously, despite her best attempts to remain unaffected.
Regina’s hands grappled blindly at his biceps as if trying to steady herself. She scrabbled for solid support before helplessly melting against him, opening for his questing mouth and giving herself over to the heated embrace. When they finally broke for air, she was breathless, and he huffed out a winded chuckle himself when she managed, “Well, Thief, that really was quite pleasant… Even if you do still smell of forest.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~***
Several realms, curses, and years later, in Storybrooke
The three men and their half dozen offspring of various ages creeping through the woods on the border of Storybrooke out near the town line are quiet and intent, completely and unabashedly focused on their prize. Up ahead, atop the small rise of a hill as the sun climbs fully into the cold, clear November morning sky, their prey struts proudly, stopping occasionally to offer its warbled call or peck at the rough ground beneath its feet. They have been tracking the large turkey for some time now, since before day fully dawned, and the time to strike has come at last.
Briefly, the thought flits through Robin’s head that this could be the same tom that had escaped himself and his Merry Men in this same forest years ago, when the hunt had been interrupted by the nightmarish interruption of a winged simian attacker and LIttle John’s subsequent transformation. To this day, the large and otherwise unflappable man stays far away from this particular section of the forest and refuses to go anywhere near the town line on foot. A quick glance at David and his preteen son to the right, then Killian and his little girl and second son to the left, gives him the hint from both men’s expressions that they are also remembering that rather ill-fated day, as bows are readied and last instructions offered.
He can only hope they will face nothing so unexpected this fine morn. The turkey before them has been promised to grace the main table of the large community Thanksgiving feast, and between the three men and their brood of adventurous junior hunters it is a matter of pride that they not return empty-handed today. Roland was promised the first unobstructed shot, and the young man, just barely a teenager but already capable and thoughtful as an adult, has already taken aim and is readying his shot to fly, much to his half-sister Margot’s displeasure as she stands just behind her big brother at Robin’s elbow. She is as untamed and mischievous as Roland is quiet and serious, and was much put out at the decision that Roland as the oldest child should get first chance, arguing rather heatedly that Roland might be biggest but she was the best shot. His blond-braided, green-attired second child is one of the best shots he’s ever seen at barely ten, but if she doesn’t learn to keep her temper and her slightly spoiled younger sibling petulance under control, he is certainly in for further trials in a few years.
Even in the few silent moments afforded him as they all hold their breaths, Rob feels the gratitude and love he has for his children, and the friends and adopted family surrounding them, surge through him with new strength. He had so very nearly left this world, numerous times over, as had the men on either side of him, and the women each of them loved. It was part of the heavy mantle they wore when standing against the Darkness in the world and fighting it back from the light and good time after time. Still, what better time than the present holiday to give thanks for the fact that they are all still standing and present to celebrate together?
Roland lets out a soft breath and then releases the arrow, just as a sharp cry rings out to the left. His son’s aim is true, but the bird is startled from its perch just in time to have the shot glide by beneath its talons as it takes flight. David on his right is already directing Leo to adjust his aim quickly and get off a second shot, even as Robin’s eyes sweep to where Killian is righting Hope from a tumble over a jutting tree root, brushing off her dark leggings and checking her for injury as she clearly struggles to hold back embarrassed and disappointed tears.
What he hasn’t banked on is his daughter’s inability to wait her turn or hold back any longer. Quick as whip, Margot lets fly, striking the bird right as she intends and sending it toppling from the sky. Mouth falling open in surprise at her audacity and her skill in equal measure, Robin can’t help the surge of pride at his daughter’s prowess, even if he knows he should admonish her for taking Leo’s moment from him and wondering if he should be making certain Roland doesn’t feel overshadowed. However, his eldest spares him the trouble when he whoops and claps Margot on the shoulder, crying out “You got him on the fly, Sis! Nice one!”
When the whole group converges together, he decides to let the lecture about abiding by the rules and taking turns slide for the time being upon noticing that Leo looks rather relieved that the pressure to prove his mettle before their quarry escaped has been taken off of his shoulders. Instead, he claps his little girl on the shoulder, squeezing with gentle affection until she looks up at him, beaming. Like her brother before her, she is growing much too fast, turning into a young lady before his eyes, and so for a moment, he lets himself revel in the fact that she still wants to spend time out in the woods with him and wishes to make him proud. Her papa won’t hold the favored spot in her heart forever, so he may as well savor it while he can.
He thinks Killian’s youngest, barely old enough to be tromping around out here with them in truth, looks a bit teary at the downed and unnaturally still bird before them, so he hurries to bag their prize for the journey homeward and puts it out of sight over his shoulder while Killian picks his tired youngest up off his feet and begins asking him how many different types of trees he can recognize from their leaves on the way back. That seems a bit difficult for a five-year-old until little Liam David begins happily babbling (suitably distracted thankfully) and pointing out oaks, maples and scotch pines as the pirate’s unerring sense of direction leads their whole troupe out of the forest toward the main road where they’ve left their trucks, Margot takes his hand, and Hope her grandpa’s, and Roland and Leo fall in behind talking amiably and carrying the bows. Apparently they have a budding naturalist in their midst as well, and Killian Jones - as usual - knows exactly what he is doing.
When he, Roland, and Margot trail back into the mayoral mansion some time later, discarding their muddy boots by the door, but still scattering crumbled leaves and dirt in the entryway, Regina stands in the hall shaking her head, and directs the children toward the laundry room to discard their outerwear before heading up to wash for dinner. She looks at him, trying to muster exasperation, but unable to do so. That flawless Queen is long gone; she has come a long way since they snapped and snarled at each other in self-preservation back in their home realm, neither wanting to fall in love and risk heartbreak again.
Snatching his jacket collar and pulling him in close, Regina nips at his lips playfully before murmuring against his scruffy cheek, “You still smell like forest,” she mocks, “but somehow you’ve managed to steal my heart.”
He shakes his head, offering back words she’d stunned him with once long ago, “That’s not quite the way I remember it. If I recall, your heart was given to me,” he whispers, emotion taking over the jest, “and a person can’t steal what’s been given to him.”
All in all, he’s been given much more than a simple archer from Sherwood Forest could have ever hoped.
Tagging a few who may enjoy (or for whom these stories might even be new...)
@jennjenn615 @searchingwardrobes @kmomof4 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @jrob64 @apiratewhopines @laschatzi @spartanguard @tiganasummertree @optomisticgirl @thislassishooked @anmylica @sotangledupinit @cosette141 @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @ilovemesomekillianjones @winterbaby89 @hollyethecurious @zaharadessert @elizabeethan @donteattheappleshook @the-darkdragonfly @xsajx @kday426 @scientificapricot @xarandomdreamx @justanother-unluckysoul @ineffablecolors
#self promo sunday#ouat holiday fics#thanksgiving one shots#and all the trimmings#we gather together#bless what is given you#cs family fluff#ouat missing moments
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(I'm being aggressive and I'm only a little sorry)
for every “🌹” received in my inbox i’ll post one random sentence of a random WIP i’m currently writing
oh, fuck you. (affectionate)
READ MORE BECAUSE YOU GET NINETEEN OF THESE.
JOKE'S ON YOU.
HAH!
...but also a table of contents for anyone else who might want to creep in on these:
Dark!Eve
Agatha Birthday fic
Take A Sad Song and Make It Better Ch. 3
Post-Finding Family Agatha - Stephen Encounter
The Haunting of Westview Manor
What Dreams May Come Ch. ???
Mexican Stud (Epic Superhero Crossover Book 1)
Collateral Damage (Epic Superhero Crossover Book ???)
The House on Ridge Road (Epic Superhero Crossover Book ???)
Dottie as Sin Rostro
Love is Not a Victory March (Roisa Soulmate Timer Book 4)
Clara Ruvelle and the Heir of Slytherin (Roisa HP AU Book 2)
A Christmas Hideaway (Roisa Hallmark Holiday Special Reversal)
Roisa Grinchmas Special (this one’s in rhyme!)
On Myths and Hideouts Ch. ???
On Myths and Hideouts Jess Prequel
Paradise Lost post-canon
Timeless/Noir fusion
The Story of a Girl (Noir fic; Title pending) Ch. 3 - “Shielded by Black Robes”
Dark!Eve:
It’s boring when they don’t struggle.
Dottie’s let her practice on her some, let her bind her hands together, made sure she’s tying her victims down properly, grinned around the gag pressed into her lips, and just stared without making any noise as Eve’s explored. She’s learned – you can’t just rip someone’s fingernail off. That hurts, sure, but you want to extend the pain. Start with something small and then build. You shove splinters and nails under their fingernails first, then you rip them off, if you want, provided there are other nails that you can do the same thing with.
Dismembering usually isn’t necessary. The people they send her after break long before then, which is good, because she’s never actually gotten to try the dismembering thing. She can’t just cut one of Dottie’s toes off. Besides breaking a bone is better than cutting it off because then you can still peel the skin back with a knife later. If you remove stuff, it should be teeth, pried out with pliers. Sure, they can’t grow back, but there’s not really much more you can do with teeth.
The thing about playing with Dottie is that she doesn’t break, which is fine, really, although she’s pretended to break so that Eve gets the idea of what that’s like, but Dottie is intentionally unbreakable so that Eve can deal with her own frustration when torture just doesn’t seem to go the way it’s supposed to go. But also playing with Dottie usually ends up in—
She can’t think about that right now. She needs to focus.
Eve picks at her teeth with the tip of her knife, fitting it carefully beside her canine with a little creak.
Maybe it’s the gag.
Agatha Birthday fic:
It literally goes wrong from the moment Eve wakes up.
Agatha refuses – absolutely refuses – to answer her phone. Which, you know, on a normal day, that’s just fine. Agatha has a life. She has a job. She’s juggling a lot of things all at once, and sometimes it takes a bit before she can call Eve back if she missed her call. Usually, when she knows it’s going to be a while before she can call back, she shoots Eve a text to let her know, to check and see if the conversation is something that can happen over text (most of the time, yes, but not always).
But on her birthday? None of that. No returned phone calls. No texts. No texts back, either, when Eve texts her. Just very clear and complete avoidance.
Now.
Eve likes to consider herself a good girlfriend. She isn’t particularly worried that something has happened to Agatha; she’s too aware of the date for that and figures that Agatha is just hiding. (On a normal day, yes, she would be worried. This is not a normal day.) It isn’t like she didn’t do the same on her worst day ever, when Jane wasn’t available as a distraction (for very good reason), but even she had reached out to Agatha. Eventually. When she’d desperately needed someone there and hadn’t—
Look, Eve understands needing to hole up and mourn, but it is Agatha’s birthday, and Agatha needs her, and Agatha would never admit that she needs her, so she’s going to go pound on Agatha’s door and barge in and make her feel better. As soon as she gets off of work. With the hope that Agatha is actually home.
Take A Sad Song and Make It Better Ch. 3:
The thing about hospitals is that—
Well. There’s a lot of things about hospitals, and we really don’t have quite the time to get into all of that. Andi’s still out, which does give us a fair amount of time, but I highly suspect that you would prefer to get back to the action, back to the fam, back to the search for the envelope to determine whether or not that they might find it.
Give me a moment.
The thing about hospitals is this: If you have an emergency contact listed with them, then when something happens to you, they call your emergency contact. Regardless of whether or not someone else is there with you, your emergency contact is the person who has the right to make decisions about your life when you are unconscious, the way that Andi currently is. It’s just simple protocol.
And here’s the thing about that – up until just recently, Claire was Andi’s emergency contact. Claire knew that. Claire knows that. It hasn’t crossed her mind, however, that when Andi reached the hospital they did not call her. Duke did, but the hospital didn’t.
Because once Claire lied on the stand, Andi took some time to herself. Reconsidered a few things.
And changed her emergency contact.
Post-Finding Family Agatha - Stephen Encounter (because it got prompted):
She told herself she would never actually go in the New York Sanctum again, after that last time, but the problem with telling herself that is knowing that, well. As long as she literally had an apartment right next door. Inevitably.
But honestly, she had a rent controlled apartment in New York City. Sure, sure, she could use magic to override her landlord’s mind and make it completely free (and, sure, she might have already done that once or twice over the past few decades, when whoever inherited the building tried to fuck around with her (How can you be the same resident from over a century ago? That’s not possible! – Dear, you live on a planet of superheroes that gets visited by aliens, and you think you have some normal human being just hanging out in this apartment? That you can boss around? This is why New York gets attacked by every new wannabe villain; it’s not the Worf Effect or a symbol or anything – it’s entitled landlords not remembering that people with powers exist and can punch the ever-loving shit out of them when they get pissed off. Almost as bad as working in customer service. Yeesh)) – but what would be the fun in that? She’s not Wanda, after all. She doesn’t need everything to go her way all of the time.
Admittedly, Wanda is the reason she’s here in the first place. Something about America and Wendy being part of this new Baby Vengeance team or something like that (she knows the real name, but she enjoys seeing the frustration in Wanda’s expression when she refuses to use the right term, loves seeing her pinch the bridge of her nose, delights when, eventually, Wanda says, “I’m not even going to correct you anymore, Agatha; I know you’re doing this on purpose” and still sighing with exasperation anyway); something about how they’ve been gone for far too long this time. That thin tremor under her voice that suggests just how worried she’s trying not to be.
For a witch able to control the very fabric of reality in this universe, Wanda has gotten surprisingly good at not sticking her nose into everybody else’s business.
Why would she need to do that when she has Agatha to do it for her?
(In most cases, Agnes would be better, but they can’t get Agnes without having America open a portal to that universe she and Ash are shacking up in, so she’s the next best thing. Besides. She has centuries of being the New York Sanctum’s nosy neighbor. It’s just a shame that Cian is no longer here to see it.)
The Haunting of Westview Manor (aka THOHH/THOBM and WandaVision infusion):
She’d always had a hard time sleeping in Westview Manor.
Or.
Well.
She’d always had a hard time sleeping starting with Westview Manor.
She remembers, in flickering fragmented memories, moments before her family had moved into the not-yet-decrepit manor, but they’re few and far between. Her time living there had so shaped and shifted everything else that it is hard to reach back to earlier, simpler, happier times. Times when she could sleep and dream of something good – like flying into a sky full of stars and reaching out to each one in turn, hoping to make friends with them. Times that she hadn’t had since—
Well, since Westview Manor.
She’d always had a hard time sleeping in Westview Manor, even before things went bad, and she’d always had a hard time sleeping after Westview Manor, even now when things could almost be called good.
It’s the closest to good she’d had in a long…in a really long time, actually.
But we’re not there yet. We’re still looking at Westview Manor, we’re still looking at her, slumbering, trying to slumber, and shifting beneath her blankets, unable to stay still, turning this way and that, tangling herself in them, hands gripping her throat until she sits up, gasping for air, blankets falling to her waist. Back then, she was only a child, brown hair nearly down to her waist if it was ever let free, although she cut it off a few days later, not liking the way it could so easily catch on anything – everything – around the manor. She always felt like something was reaching out for her, grabbing and tugging on her hair with thin spindly fingers, and it didn’t matter that she would turn and see a statue with a bow or something like that, she still felt like it was someone and not something.
What Dreams May Come Ch. ???:
You are you and you are aware of yourself and you are aware of nothing at all.
Your name is Viola Lloyd, nee Willoughby, or something like it.
Your name is Viola Lloyd. The year is 1680. You are at Bly Manor. Your daughter, Isabel, is five years old. Your husband is gone on one of his business trips. The money is running out.
And your sister wants you dead.
You have lived in this room – in your room, you know this room, you know it well, you know it from the way you have paced it so often, so often since you have taken up space within your host’s body – and yet you do not have a host. You are you and you are yourself and you are nothing at all.
For the past five years, you have been stuck in this room, barely leaving it and being forced back into it when you do by family who are afraid that you will infect them or even more afraid that you will somehow ruin the image your daughter has of you. This angers you – a rage that has been building over the past five years, not just from this alone – a rage that, it appears, has not left you, even in death. Your daughter remembers you as nothing else but this. Why should seeing you at your worst make her hate you? She has only ever seen you like this.
And this?
You know now.
This is not your worst.
Mexican Stud (Epic Superhero Crossover Book 1):
Joan clasps one hand over the hollow where her left eye once was – or she tries to, but it isn’t as hollow as movies and books would lead her to assume. The bulb that was once her eye is splattered, blood covering her face, the sheets, probably the face of the woman who had been lying above her – but none of this matters. The only thing that matters is the nerve she now holds in her hand and the popped vessel at its very tip and the incomparable pain pulsing behind where her eye once was.
She doesn’t scream.
Her throat is torn raw, but she doesn’t scream. She shivers as the pulsing slows down, sparks flying about her fingertips. The rings she’d been wearing – the rings the other woman made to ground her – are smashed, shattered much in the same vein as her eye is, and their metal edges feel shoved into the flesh of her thumbs, her middle fingers. There’s probably blood there, too. She can’t tell.
Joan takes a deep breath and sits up in the bed, still cradling what was once her eye in one hand, trying to clasp it to the hollow where it once lay, and it’s only then that she notices how far the electric jolt has carried Rose. No longer is the redhead on the bed with her; instead, she has been thrown across the room by the force of the blast, and she sits crumpled on the floor beneath a wall that looks cracked by the weight of her. One of her hands cradles her head.
“Was it worth it?” Joan asks, her voice raw, rasping. She can’t keep the venom, the bitterness out of her voice, even as Rose looks up with a blood-spattered face. “Was this what you wanted?”
Rose doesn’t say anything at first, and Joan is certain that’s because there is nothing left to say. With her free hand, Joan tries to prop herself up so that she can move from Rose’s bed, but the hollow where her eye once was throbs. She takes a deep breath, her free hand gripping the edge of the mattress so tight that her knuckles turn a bright white. A tile from the ceiling drops with a loud clang between them, but neither of them jump.
“I can fix this.”
Joan starts to whirl to face Rose, but the movement makes her stomach clench. Her teeth grit together. “What?”
Rose struggles to her feet. “I can fix this.”
Joan stares over the other woman’s naked body with her one remaining good eye, and she chokes back a sound that could either be a laugh or a sob. She intends for it to be the former, but she’s in so much pain that the latter wouldn’t be unimaginable at this point. “You can fix this?” she snarls. “I’m missing an eye!”
Collateral Damage (Epic Superhero Crossover Book ???) (Luisa/Wendy backstory/interlude/etc.):
“Rose?”
It has been three months since the accident. She didn’t like to think about it in public if she didn’t have to, and for those first few days, she had holed herself up in what was their apartment, because no matter where she went it felt like everything playing on every television in every restaurant or train station or anywhere that had a television on playing in the background was that recurring footage and the big white letters on the blue background: SUPERVILLAIN THE GHOST KILLED IN EXPLOSIVE FIGHT WITH—
The rest didn’t matter. It didn’t matter who had killed Rose (it was an accident, the reporters said; there were no witnesses), only that she was destroyed so completely that all that was left of her were her teeth and an imprint of her on a wall otherwise covered with shadow and ash. There hadn’t been any body for her to identify, hadn’t been any call for her to come to the morgue, hadn’t been any funerary arrangements or urns or anything – just POOF! and then the love of her life was gone.
Luisa stared at the redheaded woman standing just in front of her, and her breath catches in her throat because Rose was dead. But, then, maybe that was why Whitney had directed her to this hair salon to get her hair done instead of her normal one. Maybe Whitney knew something she didn’t.
But, no, before the girl could even say anything, Luisa was convinced that this couldn’t be Rose. She was too young. Far too young. (Okay, maybe not that young – she looked the same way, perhaps, that Rose should have when they first met, if Rose hadn’t been changing her appearance to fit how she thought she should look.) Her blue eyes were brighter, calmer than the tempests that had often been in the midst of Rose’s, and the freckles on her face stood out more starkly beneath her make-up. Rose had always tried to change her face enough to cover them up, to not have them at all unless Luisa specifically requested them, but this girl didn’t seem to mind hers at all.
And she was—
“No, I’m Wendy,” the girl said, and her voice made Luisa’s heart ache. “But if you’d like to see someone else, I can arrange for that. You had an appointment, didn’t you? You’re Miss—”
“Alver, yes, I had an appointment, a friend of mine set it up for me, and no, don’t get someone else, I….” Luisa took a deep breath to steady herself and looked up to meet the younger girl’s eyes. “You just look so much like someone I used to know.”
The House on Ridge Road (Epic Superhero Crossover Book ???) (Dottie Backstory):
You run a hand through her hair.
Present tense – run – when it happens, you’re present; when you remember, you’re present – you understand the past and the future as detached concepts, but you are present in them and within them; you remember and you relive.
You run a hand through her hair.
It’s soft, softer than her hair has any right to be after hours, days, years of being pinned up, sprayed into place, not one strand moving unless you – you, yourself, or someone like you, but there is no one like you, only weak men who fail beneath your own prowess – force them to move. Her hair is soft and smells of roses. That’s the bathwater. You scented it, before—
You scent it and run your fingers through the warm water as you sit on the edge of the tub, rippling, rippling, rippling.
There are no candles. She doesn’t like candles. She caught you once playing with the flame – baby lightning in a bottle – sometimes you burn your fingers – Peggy doesn’t like candles or maybe she just doesn’t like it when the skin of your fingers feels raw from playing with them, doesn’t like the way your skin grows back and heals all too easily and the rawness is gone in only moments, doesn’t like the abilities your people stole from vials they were never meant to have.
You’re weaker, in that regard, than the boy she lost years ago. You know his name, but not because she wants you to know it. She tore it at you, screamed—
She tears it at you, screams it, louder than anything – “He’s a better man than you will ever grow to be” – and you let her say it because she means it and because she needs to say it and you brush the dust of broken plaster walls from your dress and wipe a track of blood from just above your right eye and pop your right shoulder back into place and you stare at her, chest heaving, face all rage and hate, and you know it’s just redirected at the nearest person and that person just happens to be you—
You can take it. She needs to get the venom out. All out.
When you look again, her hands are no longer clenched into defensive, aggressive fists; her fingers brush those loose strands of hair back into place; she’ll be sore tomorrow, but she’s not bloodied the way you are. If you were a normal person, you would have a black eye, but you aren’t a normal person, no matter how much they force you to act like one until they need you.
You rotate your shoulder and it hurts but not too terribly. You like the pain.
“Are you done now, Peg? Get it all out?”
Dottie as Sin Rostro:
Time off.
The words are a nuisance for Dottie Underwood, who would far prefer to be sitting in a lair waiting for instructions or set up on location, gathering intelligence or preparing for a hit under yet another alias. Even the name she used now wasn’t the one she was born with, not that it much mattered. Crime lords and their best associates rarely used their real names – Elena di Nola was Mutter and her second-in-command was Sin Rostro, whoever happened to be wearing the name on any given day. Sometimes it was Elena; sometimes it was her son, Derek; sometimes it was her daughter, a woman Dottie had never met; and sometimes, on the rare occurrence that the other two were not available and Elena wanted a proxy, Dottie herself would wear the name.
Names on names on names.
She wasn’t even Dottie anymore now. When the word slowly grew more and more associated with insanity, she’d needed something a little more sane, a little more…consistent.
Not that it mattered during time off.
She’d painted her hair a bright red to match the blood of her nails and her lips, heightening and contrasting her pale skin, her ice blue eyes. Some might use smaller terms to describe her – attractive, pretty, hot – and she hated that last one in comparison with the others she’d grown accustomed to in the earlier years – alluring, magnetic, mesmerizing. Hypnotic. But she wasn’t looking for words when she walked into the bar, as amusing as the murmurs and the collective hush were.
It was the eyes suddenly trained to her that made her blood rise, the heads tilted in her direction and following her every move that started the bubbling giggle clasped in the back of her throat, the turning of bodies open to her every whim that assured her control.
But it’s to the mostly empty bar that she made her way, the crowd parting for her like hot butter for a knife, and it was at the sole occupant that she paused, brightly painted nails tapping on the counter.
“Is this seat taken?” she asked, her voice soft and full of the innocence and wonder she’d been trained to exude. “I wouldn’t want to intrude if you’re waiting for someone.”
Love is Not a Victory March (Roisa Soulmate Timer AU Book 4):
Michael Cordero, Jr. had never had a strong fascination with hotels like the Marbella. He knew they existed, but to him, they had always seemed like tourist traps, destinations for people who didn’t live in Florida, meant for an elite sort of people that he and his family had never and would never be part of. That made it sound as though he had a strong distaste for them, and maybe, to some extent, that was true, but for the most part, he just didn’t think about them.
That was until his timer went off for one of the waitresses who worked there.
At the time, Michael couldn’t have guessed that’s what she was, and in the years since, years he’d spent watching her from afar while he tracked down a crime lord who had grown mysteriously silent until, finally, he’d been connected to the very same hotel where his soulmate worked, he’d found that distaste slowly growing. His soulmate deserved better, and he couldn’t wait to see her grow into whatever that better would be.
Mostly he couldn’t wait to spend his time watching something other than this stupid tourist trap hotel and its absolutely unattractive current manager with his rippling muscles that looked like they could burst out of his shirt at any moment or his leggy blonde wife who seemed to have no sense of propriety and wore bootie shorts everywhere like she wanted to be seen as a piece of meat. Not that he was one of those misogynistic assholes who thought that women couldn’t wear whatever they wanted, because he was not that.
He was just growing very, very tired of watching all of it.
Until Roman Zazo fell from a window on the twelfth floor and landed with the sharp point of an ice Marlin piercing through his chest.
Then everything seemed to suddenly grow a lot more interesting.
Clara Ruvelle and the Heir of Slytherin (Roisa HP AU Book 2):
“Hey!” Clara pushed back against Hermione, shoving her over. “I told you I didn’t want you to sit with me!”
But Hermione stayed where she was, refusing to get up, refusing to move even after Clara shoved her. She just turned and gave her a flat stare. “You’re not supposed to be fighting on the train.”
Clara’s eyes narrowed. “You’re not supposed to set professors on fire either but—”
“Wait, wait, wait.” Ginny held up her hands, palms out, and stared at Clara. “Hermione set a professor on fire?” Her eyes widened, and she looked at Hermione. “You really did that?”
Hermione gave Clara a blank stare and then turned to Ginny. “No. Of course not. Good students don’t set their professors on fire.”
“Yeah, well, you must not be a very good student, then.” Clara crossed her arms and leaned back against the plush back of the train bench. “Since you definitely did that.”
“Clara.” Hermione elbowed her harshly as she whispered through gritted teeth at her. “Stop.”
Ginny just turned to Luisa with wide eyes. “You’re the Hufflepuff!” she exclaimed and grinned. “You’ll tell me the truth, right!”
Luisa just looked from Clara to Hermione and then winced. “I, uh, I—”
“Quit making house assumptions,” Janet interrupted, voice flat. Cat the cat had made his way out of her arms and woven around her neck, his head resting on his paws on the shoulder closest to the window so that he could stare outside with his one remaining eye, his tail on the other end, occasionally flicking against Clara as it moved. “Just because Luisa is in Hufflepuff doesn’t mean that she’s a pushover—”
“Hey!” Luisa interrupted.
“—just because Hermione’s in Gryffindor doesn’t mean she’s brave—”
“Hey!” Hermione echoed Luisa.
“—and just because Clara and I are in Slytherin doesn’t mean we’re going to kill you or try to take over the world.” Janet’s wand tapped against her arm a couple of times. “Although, now that I mention it, taking over the world does sound like fun. We may try and do that anyway.”
“Janet,” Clara hissed, elbowing her. “We’re not going to take over the world. That is way more work than either of us wants to do. And you would have to pretend to get along with people – all that hand shaking and playing nice and everything – and I don’t think you’d like that very much.”
Janet sighed and nodded once. “You’re right. I wouldn’t. Maybe we postpone the taking over the world thing.”
A Christmas Hideaway (Roisa Hallmark Holiday Special Reversal):
“No, Daddy, I won’t be home for Christmas.”
Luisa has perfected the art of lying to her father about mundane things, particularly over the phone. It started years ago when she was in high school, lying about stealing liquor from his cabinet whenever he asked with eyes that had initially shifted to look towards the ground and then eventually grew to facing him directly with a strong jaw, and continued through college, lying about how much time she was spending studying for her classes when really she was spending most of her time out with her friends doing almost anything except studying. At some point, he stopped calling (or she stopped answering). His time was – and still is – much better spent working on his company than inquiring into his children’s life. Not because he doesn’t care. He does. Luisa is certain he does. That just isn’t how he shows it. Mostly he shows it by staying out of her life or by giving her whatever she needs, money-wise, whenever she asks for it.
The not being home for Christmas part isn’t the lie. The next part is.
Roisa Grinchmas Special:
Down at the hotel, far from their harsh glances,
lived the other woman, whose drunken dances
on tabletops naked with far too much glee
were probably not meant for you or for me,
especially since she had gone off the drink,
tore it from her bar, and poured it down her sink.
Yet still in her form she held both style and grace
and often used these to make others’ hearts race.
Her smile lit the room far better than fire
and her heart burned like it would on a pyre
for people and family who she held most dear,
for whom she would shed far much more than a tear.
On Myths and Hideouts Ch. ???
City Hall feels like a bad marriage between Greco-Roman architecture and modern, streamlined, minimalistic design. The former is a bad habit of all American political buildings; the latter is likely Storybrooke – or Regina – specific. There are columns and a lot of black and white, which Rose hopes is not indicative of Regina’s way of thinking or her morals (she doubts this), and some wallpaper of trees, which should be rustic, but because it’s in black and white, it isn’t. It works a little better than most people would think, but Rose – who spent way too long as Emilio’s interior design decorator for his hotels – doesn’t think it works at all. She likes the black and white better than the Miami beach vibes that the Marbella put out, but only because she’s gotten plain sick of the Marbella after the last several years.
Regina stops at the secretary’s desk before heading into her office, leaning over just enough to give Rose a good view of her ass. This is intentional. At least, if Rose had done it, it would have been intentional, and she suspects that Storybrooke’s mayor runs on the same general wavelength that she does. She can’t say just why she suspects it, but she gets that general vibe.
“Jessica, dear, clear out my meetings for the rest of the day.” Regina glances over her shoulder at Rose as though she hopes to catch her staring. Her expression falters and quickly fixes itself when she realizes that she isn’t. “I have more pressing matters to attend to.”
Regina’s secretary – Jessica, apparently – lifts her head and glances over to Rose. The two of them look quite similar, although Jessica is, for the most part, thinner and more angular than Rose is, with the exception of her chest, which almost seems impossibly big for how small the rest of her is. Her Crayola red hair is pulled back into a high ponytail, and she pushes thin black frames up her nose, brilliantly cerulean eyes peering out at Rose with a lack of interest as she takes her in. “Of course, Ms. Mills,” she murmurs, and her voice is at once both demure and alluring.
Regina Mills might try her hardest to seduce Rose Alver, but she will not get anywhere near as close as this Jessica does within the first five seconds.
Rose swallows once, and her gaze flicks back to Regina. Maybe that ass view wasn’t for her at all. Luisa had thought Regina had something going on with the sheriff, but at this moment, she’s pretty sure that she actually has something much more interesting going on with her secretary.
On Myths and Hideouts Jess Prequel:
Jessica Krupnick sees a lot that she does not mention.
Well. This would mean more if she had someone to mention it to. She has no friends in this little town, although she is certain that she could if she tried. She has never felt that impulse to try. People seem to think of her first as Mayor Mills’s secretary, the woman the mayor chose not as her right hand woman – the closest person in Storybrooke who came to that was Sheriff Humbert, who insisted that everyone refer to him as Graham (or at least, he insisted that to Jessica every time they spoke, and she consistently pretended as though he didn’t) – but as the protector of….
Well, her, if you wanted to think of it that way.
Sheriff Humbert protected the people. He was a physical failsafe. Jessica protected her office. She was a mental failsafe.
And sometimes, Jessica considers as she sees Henry speeding into the office, skidding across the marble floors on his shoes with the biggest grin on his face she has ever seen, she protects her heart.
Paradise Lost post-canon:
Francis tapped the steering wheel of the U-Haul with the pad of her thumb. The air conditioner rattled a little too loudly as she drove, overwhelming the soft tunes crooning through the radio. Davis sat in the middle seat, belt tight across his waist, and Reynolds sat in the passenger seat, elbow resting on the door and staring out the window at the passing landscape.
“It’ll be cooler once the car warms up,” Francis remarks, reaching over and tousling her youngest son’s hair. He’s sticky with sweat; U-Hauls were nothing more than metal boxes, and in the Southern humid heat, it had cooked itself until even touching the seats felt like it would burn through their skin. It was only made worse by the shorts they were all wearing, pushing exposed skin against burning fabric. At least she had convinced the boys to wear t-shirts instead of tank-tops.
Davis was easy enough to convince, but Reynolds….
Reynolds wasn’t wearing a t-shirt the way Francis wanted. Instead, his shirt was stretched so that it hung about him more like a wife-beater than a shirt, and the sleeves were stretched so that they might as well have not been there at all. She was certain if he was wearing a normal shirt, the sleeves would be rolled up to feign a tank within seconds.
This was all just the influence of the football team and his father’s friendship with Dickie. That may have fallen lax in the past few months as the divorce dragged on, but Reynolds had maintained his friendship with Dickie’s son – and no amount of Francis telling him it was a bad idea did anything. In fact, she’d refrained from saying much at all, outside of suggesting that he should choose his friends wisely and hoping that Yates suggested the same.
Considering the fight he’d allowed between the two of them, Francis sincerely doubted he had.
Timeless/Noir fusion:
It happened at the end of her last class of the day. Lucy felt the vibration of her phone – a longer buzz indicative of an email instead of the shorter one for a text – where it rested in the left pocket of her slacks. She stepped outside of the lecture hall, shuffled her students’ papers and folders (it was essay day, and some of them still used folders although she’d said multiple times that she preferred they didn’t), and pulled out her phone.
Emma Whitmore.
Lucy didn’t recognize the name, but it could be from a student wanting into one of her classes or a professor asking for her expertise on one of their projects. This wasn’t too unusual. Probably a student – she knew most of the professors on campus by name; even if she’d never met them, she’d likely heard about them from one of the other students in passing. She’d never heard of a Professor Whitmore, though.
Her eyes scanned the email.
Standard fare for a professor help request – doing a bit of research, wanted to speak with someone more knowledgeable about the subject (mostly time period, maybe some political history), etc. There were a few lines that felt a little off, but Lucy chalked that up to what she expected was likely a new hire who was unnecessarily intimidated by her own pedigree. And while it was odd that Emma hadn’t used her school email, given the more professional setting, it might be that she wanted to keep everything involving her research organized separately from her student emails. Lucy couldn’t fault her for that, either.
She sent a quick reply – yes, along with perhaps meeting for coffee or drinks Friday afternoon – and then promptly forgot about the entire thing as her phone rang, another incessant and immediate buzzing.
“Amy?” Lucy braced the phone between her shoulder and her ear as she moved her pile of essays and folders once more. “Slow down! What happened this time?”
The Story of a Girl (Noir Fic; Title Pending) Ch. 3 - “Shielded by Black Robes”:
The attackers dodged. That was the first thing she noticed, the first of many problems with this scenario. They dodged.
The second problem was when one of them somehow caught the knife she threw at his forehead. He smirked at her and threw it back so fast she barely dodged it herself. These mooks were good.
But Chloe was better.
Whereas before she stood her ground next to the pillar with only the occasional dodge, now she began to race forward, a knife in each hand. The men pulled out their guns, finally finished reloading them, but she was upon them before the first trigger could be pressed.
Below. Sweep the leg. Beneath, behind. Knife to the side, the neck. Catch and hold while shot at – meat shields are the best kind because the shots go both ways.
Throw him away. Dodge. Roll. Bite.
The blonde stepped out from behind the pillar, aiming and shooting and moving, all one fluid motion, she a panther, lithe and strong, and Chloe a cheetah, swift and deadly, spotless. She saw the shot from the gun, aimed toward the blonde, fast, too fast – the blue eyes once so icy now so warm and wide—
No.
Her teeth dripped blood that day.
#musings#bandit answers questions#bandit writes fic#our blood is our ink#meme response#agave stuff#glass onion fix it fic#wanda america fic#bly manor fix it fic#epic superhero crossover#roisa soulmate timer au#roisa hp au#roisa hallmark holiday special#jtv/ouat crossover#noir fic#this took me like#two hours to compile#I HOPE YOU ENJOY IT#XD
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Holiday Bingo 2023
That's right besties! It's that time of year again!
And in an attempt to keep y'all entertained with your favourite blorbos, I'm hosting this bingo so we can all share our creations and you have something to fixate on while I'm busy as hell at work!
As per usual:
Submissions can be anything! A mood board, a ficlet, headcanons, drabble, gif sets, one shots, social media au's, make it a mini series following the holiday journey of the same two characters! literally whatever you want!
Prompts are all winter/holiday themed. If it specifically says "Christmas" it does not need to be Christmas, it can be whatever holiday this time of year that you want!
Read the rest of the rules under the cut!
Prompts can be made into any genre, make it super spicy, make it tooth rottingly sweet, make it angsty as all hell and break our hearts, make it a wild AU, do whatever you want with them as long as they are what inspired your story. (aka "first snowfall" could be the first time character a is seeing snow, it could be the first snow of the year, it could be the characters baby's/dog's first time seeing snow. It can be cute, catching snow flakes on tongues or sad, bringing back memories with a friend who has passed. Literally whatever you want.) Just make sure to include any and all appropriate warnings/tags at the TOP of the post and I don't want to see any TikTok censoring of words!
Fics can be a ship, a reader insert, an OC, or any kind of crossover! Mix and match, stick with one, try out a new character or fandom!
Accepted Fandoms:
Literally everything and everyone. This is wide open to any and every fandom/show/movie that you want, it's free game besties! It doesn't matter if I write/read that fandom, do what you would like!
Some Inspiration:
-Law and Order (OG, OC, SVU)
-Criminal Minds
-Marvel
-NCIS
-One Chicago
-Abbott Elementary
-Mayans
-Grey's Anatomy/Private Practice
-911/Lonestar
-OUAT
-The L Word
-Wednesday
Rules:
You MUST tag me @storiesofsvu and use the hashtag #storiesofsvuholidaybingo2023 on each creation and I'll put together the masterlist.
Bingo begins on November 25th and will run all the way to January 20th.
You may only post/submit ONE creation per day!
Only one bingo square per creation
No underage characters involved in relations.
Tag all and every warning appropriately at the top of the fic
Anything over 1000 words must be under a readmore!
Everyone is welcomed and encouraged to participate! You do not need to be following me, we don't need to be mutuals, if you see this post and want to play, let's go!
If anyone has questions, feel free to comment or send me a message/ask!
Some playlists to get us in the mood:
________________
tagging some people who might be interested? (if you got tagged and have no idea who i am/where this came from it is likely that i have read your stuff and loved it/have some bookmarked on my to bed read lol. feel free to ignore.)
@prentiss-theorem @swimmingstudentchaos891 @rustyzebra @plaidbooks @thatesqcrush @adarafaelbarba @detective-giggles @mickey-gomez @alexusonfire @bumblebear30 @tropes-and-tales @unitchiefs-blackbirdphoenix @beccabarba @prurientpuddlejumper @fighterkimburgess @baubeautyandthegeek @melk917 @blackbird-brewster @virescent-v @leftoverenvy @iamnotoriginalphil @happenstnces @daddy-heather-dunbar @just-a-torn-up-masterpiece @five-bi-five-main @thehauntingofbasingse @supercriminalbean @h0tch-r0cket @bullet-prooflove @boldlyvoid @astrophileous @slutforsilverfoxes @cissyenthusiast010155 @hotchs-bitch @honeypiehotchner @whiteberryx @v3nusxsky
#law and order svu#criminal minds#ncis#marvel#mcu#abbott elementary#wednesday#wednesday netflix#grey's anatomy#writing bingo#law and order#one chicago#911#911 lonestar#mayans mc#stranger things#wanda maximoff#olivia benson#larissa weems#aaron hotchner#emily prentiss#melissa schemmenti#Spotify#storiesofsvuholidaybingo2023
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do you have any ouat headcannons that you haven't been able to share but want to? angsty? Fluffy? even fav characters fav food?
*searches "headcanon" in dms with my bestie and compiles a list*
Will Scarlet and Aladdin were roommates in Storybrooke at some point. Not "oh my gosh, they were roommates" but actually "two broke theives splitting rent on an apartment" roommates.
Anytime Killian has to pick up pads or tampons for Emma he also buys her chocolate.
The doorknob on Emma's house gets replaced with a door handle because it's more hook accesible.
There was a holiday in the Enchanted Forest called "King's Day" which was supposed to be a day to celebrate the king. Hook and his crew would always celebrate by committing crimes (which I briefly touched on in my Christmas fic) but Killian decides to bring the tradition to Storybrooke, taking the day off from sheriffing to commit as many "crimes" as possible, with Emma chasing him around Storybrooke trying to stop him from committing as many crimes as possible.
Killian hates the sound of ticking clocks and can't figure out why, so Emma buys him a digital watch and he becomes obsessed with the silent timepiece.
In 200 years, there's no way Killian's never slipped up and accidentally called David "love." Like I'm sure it's happened at least once, and definitely after Killian and Emma get married. They're both super embarassed but Emma and Mary Margaret think it's the funniest thing ever.
Emma went through a pirate phase as a kid.
Idk how firmly I subscribe to this headcanon, but when Zelena tried to drown Killian in season 3, it actually did kill him, and Emma actually used True Love's Kiss there to bring him back.
Evil Snow in the Heroes and Villains universe killed Stealthy in that timeline- which adds even more depth to her killing Doc and saying "now there's six. want me to make it five?"
Killian is a language nerd. He still remembered ancient languages he learned in the navy a couple centuries later, and that doesn't happen unless you practice, and he wouldn't do that unless he wanted to.
[sidenote on above: the reason he refers to the runes Regina draws in s5 as "squiggly lines" is because they don't actually spell out anything; they're just random letters {I know, I've translated them} so Regina really has just reduced the runes to just being "squiggly lines.]"
Gold refused to trade for Killian's dabloons, using the excuse that "I spin straw into gold, why would I need these?" (but really it was just to be petty.) As soon as Gold left Storybrooke in season 4 and Belle took over the pawn shop again, Killian immediatley threw 87 dabloons on the counter and was like "can I please trade these in for money?"
Killian Jones eventually becomes a Jonas Brothers fan
A lot of Emma's cursed NYC memories in S3 were actual memories Regina had of raising Henry.
and uh, i think that's all i got for now! thanks for asking!
#once upon a time#ouat#captain swan#killian jones#emma swan#henry mills#regina mills#rumplestiltskin#headcanon#belle french#david nolan#will scarlet#aladdin ouat#once upon a time season 6
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2024 Chipped Cup Awards - Masterlist
Here, once again, are the winners of the 2024 Chipped Cup Awards
FLUFF:
Family: Tea and Roses by @thatravenclawbitch
Comfort: Struck By a Golden Arrow by @avatoh
Fix-it: Ritual by @peacehopeandrats
Reunion: A Dream is a Wish by @rowofstars
SMUT:
Kink/BDSM: On The House by @kelyon
Romance: Brandy, Apples, and Spice by @rufeepeach
Comedy: Accidents by @peacehopeandrats
Threesome: Fulfilling a Fantasy by @thescholarlystrumpet
First Time: Queen Takes Knight by @emospritelet
PWP: In the Dark and Wicked Hours by @rowofstars
ANGST:
Death: Strong for Belle by @desperatemurph
Hurts So Good: To Have and To Hold by @thatravenclawbitch
Misunderstanding: Unexpected But Not Unwelcome by @tickletorso
ROMANCE:
Date (overall) Lost and Found by @peacehopeandrats
Courtship: The Sweetest Dream by @threepwoodmarley
First Meeting: Portrait of the Heart by @chippedcupwrites
GENERAL:
One Shot: Pages of Reverie by @chippedcupwrites
Series: Lover’s Leap by @eirian-houpe
Novel Length: Mountains, Streams, and Magical Things by @peacehopeandrats
Short Fic: Babysitting by @timelordthirteen
Holiday Centric: Brandy, Apples, and Spice by @rufeepeach
Remix: Our Masks by @lotus0kid
Crossover: A Blade for Belfrey by @eirian-houpe
Dark Castle: Marble by @peacehopeandrats
Storybrooke: Leaving Storybrooke by @peacehopeandrats
"Missing Years": The Tent of Infinite Adventure by @peacehopeandrats
Wish!Verse: Deception by @eirian-houpe
SPECIAL CATEGORIES:
Golden Lace: The Storybrooke Whisky Appreciation Society by @threepwoodmarley
Woven Beauty: Undefined Desires by @worryinglyinnocent
Background Swanfire: To Have and to Hold by @thatravenclawbitch
Afterlife: Granted by @peacehopeandrats
Drama: Love Me Before the Last Petal Falls by @deliriumsdelight7
Supernatural/Sci-fi/Horror: The Cunning by @mareyshelley
Comedy: Lacey and the Tramp by @chippedcupwrites
AU-Original: Wretched Beginnings by @poorobscureplainandlittle
AU- OUAT: Tales of Gold by @JurisLadyAnna
AU-Other Media: The Black Swan by @deliriumsdelight7
Creature: The Finfolk’s Bride by @chippedcupwrites
Unexpected Twist: Contract by @kelyon
Bobby Squared: A Blade for Belfrey by @eirian-houpe
Trope: Love Me Before the Last Petal Falls by @deliriumsdelight7
English Language: To Nurse by @charon53
EVENTS
RSS: If You Will Be My Queen by @eirian-houpe
Fluffapalooza (Fic): The Tea Shop by @peacehopeandrats
Fluffapalooza (Art): Kiss Me Again, It’s Working by @milaeryn
Monthly Rumbelling: The Landlord and the Princess by @Rumplerose (AO3)
CHARACTER AWARDS
Belle: The Not So Dark One by @charlotteashmore13
Dark One!Belle: Rags to Riches by @alphashley14
Lacey: Sore Hearted Souls by @nerdrumple
Spinner!Rumple: Witch and Spinner by @Strummer_Pinks
Dark One!Rumple: Gilded by @eirian-houpe
Wish!Rumple: Once There Was a Wish by @peacehopeandrats
Mr. Gold: The Caretaker by @thestraggletag
Detective Weaver: Forgery by @peacehopeandrats
Baelfire/Neal: A House Built With Love by @of-princes-and-savages
Gideon: Finding You by @clarahue
OC Rumbelle Child: The Zoo by @peacehopeandrats
Villain: Cora in On the House by @kelyon
BFF/Wingman: Mountains, Streams, and Magical Things by @peacehopeandrats
ART
Fan Art: Kiss Me Again, It’s Working by @milaeryn
Graphic Art: And Love is When Someone Who Even KNows Your Scars Stays To Kiss You by @chippedcupwrites
AU In Art: Belle Isn’t Fascinated by the Idea of Marrying Gaston by @notonlymice
Fluff Art: Belle French and the Dork One by @chippedcupwrites
Angsty Art: In My Memory It Doesn’t End by @ace-cf-cups
Comic/Graphic Novel: Wearing Each Other’s Clothes by @angelqueen13art
Use of Color: Kiss Me Again, It’s Working by @milaeryn
Video: Your Beauty Never Ever Scared Me by @chippedcupwrites
SUPERLATIVES:
Best Artist: @chippedcupwrites
Best Author: @kelyon
Best New Author: @ace-cf-cups
Best Rumbelle Fic: The Language of Flowers by @deliriumsdelight7
Best Anyelle Fic: Let’s Spend the Night Together by @ifishouldvanish
Best Anyem Fic: Tyger Tyger by @shakespeareanhoneybadgers
Rumbelle Lifetime Achievement: @jackabelle73
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2023 Writing Round-Up
Huge thank you to @hgejfmw-hgejhsf for the tag- sorry it's so late! I've also done a bunch of drabbles for the Wednesday 100 and the weekly brownstone server drabbles, but I'm only including things that are longer than 100 words. All of these works can be found on my AO3, which you can find here.
January:
The Holiday chapter 4 (OUAT)
February:
Picture Perfect chapter 7 (OUAT)
Missing You chapter 2 (OUAT)
March:
Six of Foxes chapter 7 (crossover fic- The Magicians and OUAT Six of Crows AU)
Better Than I Dreamed chapter 2 (OUAT)
April:
The Holiday chapter 5 (OUAT)
Pride and Prejudice chapter 8 (OUAT)
Missing You chapter 3 (OUAT)
Learning to Love Again chapters 1-5 (OUAT)
The Football Flip ch 1 (Ted Lasso)
May:
A Whole New World chapter 5 (OUAT)
The Football Flip chapter 2 (Ted Lasso)
June:
Stroke by Stroke chapter 3 (OUAT)
July:
Mills Girls chapter 5 (OUAT)
Be Careful What You Wish For chapter 7
August:
The Beauty Within chapter 1 (RWRB)
She's the Man chapter 1 (Ted Lasso)
27 Bowties chapter 1 (Ted Lasso)
What a Girl Wants chapter 1 (Ted Lasso)
Say Anything (Ted Lasso)
999 (Ted Lasso)
You Belong with Me (Ted Lasso)
Lost and Found (Ted Lasso)
The Beauty Within chapter 1 (RWRB)
September:
The Beauty Within ch 2 (RWRB)
Just a Little Monteverde Misadventure (RWRB)
Muñequita Linda (RWRB)
Fall From a Shooting Star (RWRB)
Royally Yours (RWRB)
October:
In Memoriam (RWRB)
The Beauty Within chapters 3-4 (RWRB)
November:
Trading Traditions (RWRB)
Fall Fun (RWRB)
Magical Mishap (RWRB)
An All Hallow's Eve Miracle (RWRB)
The Beauty Within chapters 5, 6 and 7 (RWRB)
An Impossible Choice (RWRB)
December:
A Glimmer Through the Dark (RWRB)
But Only in My Dreams (RWRB)
I know I'm really late to this, but tagging @heybuddy-drabbles @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @daisymae-12 @zwiazdziarka @celeritas2997 @rockyroadkylers @tintagel-or-cockleshells @14carrotghoul and @myheartalivewrites just in case you guys haven't done it yet and want to!
#tag games#tedbecca#ted lasso#ouat fanfiction#oq ff#outlawqueen#outlaw queen#outlaw queen fanfic#rwrb fic#firstprince fanfiction#firstprince fic#firstprince
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Holiday Cards, Reboot 2023
Here’s how it works:
-Send me an ask or message with your name and mailing address, as long as you’re comfortable doing so.
-If you’re a fandom friend, feel free to request a fic snippet. These are usually a page or less, bullet-point-fic. They can be something new (around a trope or prompt of your choosing) or they can be headcanons/sidestories from my fics. The more specific you ask for, the better. It helps with the writing process if I’m not baking everything from scratch. Will accept Captain Swan (OUAT) or FirstPrince (RWRB)!
-It’s entirely up to you to tell me what fic prompt you want. If you don’t tell me you want a fic bit in your card, you’re just getting a card.
-If you have requested a card in the past, please resubmit an address. If I still have it, it’s either a) lost in an old notebook or b) lost in my asks/messages. I do not keep a steady address book. I really should, but I don’t.
-If you have a special holiday you celebrate (i.e., you do not want a Christmas card) then please let me know. I have generic winter cards, a surplus of Christmas, and I have no qualms going out to get specialty cards - but I’m aiming to only make one trip to get cards this year so I need to know asap if you want something special.
As always, I hope to send out cards no later than December 20, but I always try to get the international ones out first and fast so they arrive before New Year. But honestly, if you send me an ask up to NYE, I’ll still happily send a card. Oh yeah, and that’s the other thing: I don’t care where you live! I will send cards ANYWHERE in the world.
Feel free to share if you’d like. This is something I do for joy and happiness, for the smile it brings to people, and for the smile it brings to me. You do not have to be a mutual to get one. Hell, you don’t even have to be following me! I love when random people find this post and request cards, because I love being able to do this.
It's been one hell of a year, and just about everything in my life has changed since the last time I did this, so please send me addresses, requests, specifics, and I will eagerly get started on this.
Much love to you all!
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Time to highlight another fantastic artist! Please help us welcome @motherkatereloyshipper to CSSNS23!
What’s your Tumblr?
MotherkatEreloyShipper on tumblr, @Ao3Motherkat on twitter
How long have you been in the CS/OUAT fandom?
2 years
When did you start shipping Captain Swan?
2 years ago, I found a sewing pattern of the Captain Hook costume when looking for double-breasted waistcoats to make into a corset pattern and the picture on the front sent me to Google, Google sent me to Disney+ I binged all 7 seasons in a ridiculously short period of time and went straight to Ao3 for more.
What drew you to this event?
Kmomof4 made me, I was going to skip this year but I can't tell her no! Not when her birthday is my favourite holiday!
What inspired your topic?
I'm just here to make art
If you would like to share a snippet/sneak peek/summary of your fic or artwork, please use the space below.
No peeking
For our artists: What kind of art do you like to do? Picsets, painting, digital, etc? Feel free to give as much info as you like.
I make manips using a combination of canva, picsart, faceapp and gimp 3.0, I don't think they are very good but some people like them.
What are you looking forward to most about participating in this event?
The sweet sweet validation of making my friends smile.
I'm really looking forward to the wonderful artwork that @motherkatereloyshipper is going to come up with for @kmomof4's OS dropping on July 25th and @jonesfandomfanatic's MC dropping on August 24th. Please drop by her page to say hi and welcome her to the event!
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thank you @hummingbirdswords for the tag :)
last song: sweet - lana del rey
favorite color: deep blue, olive green, and crimson
last movie/show: currently watching ouat and the 100. (just finished supergirl) last movie was happiest season (i watch it every year around the holidays)
sweet/spicy/savory: spicy and savory bc i love them both
relationship status: not dating anyone or looking
last thing i searched: if there was a point to life
current obsession: ouat, regina mills, swan queen, milfs, oil painting, writing fic, etc (there are more but if i started talking about them this post would be way too long lol)
tagging: @emily-prentits @horsetailcurlers2 @flyingpotstickers @itwasmagic sorry for any unwanted tags, and anyone who sees this and wants to do this, consider yourself tagged :D
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Like Slow Spinning Redemption
Surprise! I am your Secret Santa this year, @their-seafaring-ways! I hope you enjoy this extended version of Season 5 Episode 15 “The Brothers Jones” I cooked up for you. When you expressed the interest in a Liam-comes-to-like Emma scenario, I knew I had to delve deeper, as I’ve always thought that episode was rather rushed. I also loved the idea of we-understand-each other and the concept that Emma and Killian are reflections of each other, and I deliberately tried to write these into the episode in a more apparent manner than the canon shows. This is the result.
I tried to stick to canon as much as possible, even though I was inspired like crazy for my “The Fields of Asphodel” Season 5 rewrite. I tried not to diverge, but when I did, think of it as a we-didn’t-see-everything-in-canon-so-this-is-totally-plausible type of divergence.
I am thinking this is going to be around the 15k mark, and I’m about 55% done with writing it as of now. I will be sprinting to finish it all in the next couple of days, and the next installment will be on the 28th! I hope to have it posted before I go back to work on January 3rd. I am aiming for 5 chapters!
Read it here on AO3
Tagging the usual crew: @xarandomdreamx @kmomof4 @zaharadessert @snowbellewells @sotangledupinit @tiganasummertree
Want to be added? Ask me!
Summary: Liam Jones does not like Emma Swan upon their first meeting. Of course, when he blames her for his brother’s death and subsequent entrapment in the Underworld, it’s not hard to understand why. But after seeing Emma and Killian in action (and seeing the man his brother became), he may just have to change his opinion…
Read under the cut (unless Tumblr ate it)
Liam Jones’ day consisted of restocking the bar and wiping down surfaces, the same old monotonous routine that he had followed since he had been sentenced upon his death and subsequent arrival in the Underworld. The Rabbit Hole was one of the only establishments for which the denizens of this hellish realm could get a decent drink, and as such, it was usually heavily frequented in the evenings by souls who had no other recourse or comfort. Liam didn’t know exactly why Hades had insisted he man the bar as his punishment, but he supposed it was the least he could serve given his actions during his all-too-short shot at life.
The interactions he was forced to undergo with the rest of the crew from the Hispaniola were awkward, to say the least, but given that none of them suspected him of having a hand in their deaths, he could get through the paid transactions for rum just fine. He even had begun to strike up a tentative sort of friendship with his old captain (and slaver) Silver, as strange as it was to think about.
It was on this typical evening, with no changes to his routine and duties, that he heard the words he had waited for so long to hear. Silver had come in for his usual drink, sat at the counter, and waited to be served. Once he had rum in hand, SIlver finally spoke to Liam, having remained uncharacteristically silent the whole time.
“So I hear that your brother is finally in town,” Silver stated, taking a sip of the libation before continuing, pretending that he didn’t notice Liam stilling out of shock, “Apparently he went by Captain Hook for a time. Word on the street is that Hades has it out for him.”
Liam blinked, processing the information. “Have you seen him?” he finally settled on asking.
Silver shook his head. “I can’t say I have. I’ve heard that there’s a woman down here looking for him, but I don’t know how true that is.”
Liam thought hard. He wondered if Hades had Killian in the throne room; that was usually where he kept his new citizens while they were acclimated to the Underworld. Perhaps he could go there and find out? Hades surely wouldn’t turn him away if he sought out an audience, would he? Hades didn’t owe him anything, but surely he would understand Liam’s need to seek out his brother one last time? His mind made up, he continued to carry out his duties, only halfway paying attention to what it was he needed to do. He was too busy focusing on getting to his brother to pay attention otherwise.
Liam would go to that house that he knew hosted the entrance to Hades’ throne room in the morning. He would go into the basement, much like he had that last time he had sought an audience with Hades, and he would ask to see his brother one last time. He wouldn’t let Killian be sentenced by Hades without trying to make things right with his brother, even if he couldn’t explain to Killian just what it was he was trying to atone for.
The next morning dawned as bright as it could in the Underworld under the sky of red haze. Liam waited as long as he could stand before he finally gave in and made his way to that blue Victorian house he had visited when he had first arrived in the Underworld. The house itself was an anomaly; it was a beautiful, welcoming home that Liam was sure would have housed a large family in the Land of the Living, but here it was vacant with the air of forlorn melancholy. The rooms on the ground floor were filled with old toys, a baby’s crib, and sprinkled with a liberal application of dust and cobwebs. The presence of the baby artifacts was always curious to Liam, but he had to push that curiosity aside the last time he had visited Hades. He was sure that he’d push the curiosity aside once more.
When he arrived outside the house, he stopped in his tracks, startled at what he was seeing. The lights were on inside; the last time he had been here, the house had been shrouded in darkness. Perplexed as to what it meant, he paused. Maybe the people to whom it belonged had recently passed, and they had claimed it as their own? If this were the case, perhaps he could ask politely to pass through to the basement to have a word with Hades? Surely they would allow him his request?
Squaring his shoulders, he ascended the front steps to the long front porch and knocked on the door. He waited for a moment before a beautiful blonde woman opened the door. Liam was momentarily taken aback by her appearance, but he quickly put his shock to the side at her greeting.
“Hi,” said the blonde with uncertainty. “Can I-”
Movement behind her caught his eye and he gasped. “Killian?” He questioned, cutting off the blonde beauty in front of him.
The blonde, realizing that this was someone that Killian must have known, stepped aside as Liam took a step forward into the house, not caring whether he was actually invited in or not. Killian looked at him like a deer caught in a car’s headlights.
“Liam?” Killian asked huskily, not believing his eyes.
Liam stepped further into the entryway of the house. “So the rumors are true. After all these years, my little brother is finally here.”
Killian stepped forward and threw his arms around Liam. “That’s ‘younger brother’ to you,” he replied. Liam chuckled, returning Killian’s embrace.
“It’s been too long,” Liam simply stated, feeling a bit choked up at seeing his brother after all this time. “I never dreamed that you’d actually be here.”
Killian pulled back suddenly, leaving Liam feeling a bit bereft at their first meeting after centuries of being separated, but before Liam could say anything, Killian had turned to the blonde. He waved her over, taking her hand and squeezing it tightly in his. He turned to his brother and smiled.
“Brother,” Killian began, turning back to the blonde, “this is Emma Swan, my love and savior. Hades tried to send me to the depths of the River of Lost Souls, and she was able to save me before he was successful. We owe our reunion to her.”
Liam turned and looked at her and smiled slightly. “Then we are in your debt.”
Emma returned his smile, saying as she did so, “I couldn’t let him stay down here at Hades’ mercy. Not after all that happened before his…”. Emma stumbled a bit here before continuing, “…death.”
Liam watched as Killian’s smile, which had been genuine up to that moment, became strained and awkward. No one said anything for several moments’ worth of silence before Emma cleared her throat and gestured towards the kitchen.
“Can I get you something to drink?” She asked.
Liam nodded. “Water will be fine.”
Emma turned and moved into the kitchen to get them all glasses of water, Killian and Liam moving to follow her but sitting at the table. Once they all had refreshments, Emma hovered for a moment indecisively. Finally she turned to Killian.
“If it’s alright with you, I’m going to go check in with my parents and Henry. Let them know what’s going on. I’ll let you two catch up?”
Killian nodded. “Aye, love. We’ll be fine.”
Liam noticed that Killian didn’t quite meet her eyes with his, and he wondered at the stilted air between the two lovers. He didn’t say anything, just gave an acknowledging grimace that mimicked a smile at her glance his way, but he did watch her leave the room and head upstairs.
“I take it this was her house in life?” Liam asked.
Killian nodded. “It still is,” his brother replied. “I picked it for her as a symbol of our plans for the future.”
Liam’s brow raised in surprise. “Plans?”
“Aye,” Killian responded simply. “She came here from the Land of the Living to save me from Hades’ clutches, and she wants to try and restore my life.”
Liam stared. “She’s not dead?”
Killian shook his head. “No, none of her family or friends are. They all came down here to help her.”
Liam shook his head. “She wants to restore you to life?”
Killian nodded. He hesitated a moment, unsure of what his brother would say about the whole tale.
Liam sighed. It seemed as if his brother needed a little coaxing into the tale of his life first. “Well, tell me about how you lived so long. What happened?”
Killian sighed as well and launched into that tale, of how he had turned pirate after Liam’s death and sought revenge for Liam’s poisoning. He then continued to describe meeting Milah and running off with her on his ship, causing her to abandon her husband and young son. He proceeded to describe how he met her estranged husband years later as the Dark One and lost his first love to the demon. He spoke of how he used a magic bean to travel to the place where Liam had lost his life, Neverland, as a way of buying himself more time to figure out how to exact revenge against the Dark One.
Throughout the tale, Liam remained silent, choosing only to remark, “I’ve heard many a tale of Captain Hook these last few decades,” crossing his arms and looking reproachfully at his brother. Killian had the decency to look ashamed of his actions, Liam was at least pleased to note.
Then Killian launched into his tale of meeting Emma, explaining how he had met the woman they called the Savior in the Enchanted Forest and was captivated by her light from the onset, but fought valiantly against his feelings, until it was finally too late. He told of how many times they had been separated and how many times they had found their way back to each other, finishing the tale with their latest misadventure of becoming Dark Ones that ended with Killian sacrificing his own life to end the Darkness once and for all, only for that sacrifice to be in vain (as the imp Rumplestiltskin had found a way to take back his power at the expense of Killian’s life). Though Killian tried to tell the tale in a way that protected Emma’s role in causing Killian’s future, the future Liam, himself, had worked so hard to protect, to be lost in a swirl of darkness, Liam could tell who he had to blame for Killian’s life being cut short.
He didn’t have to look very far, as she was just upstairs. Liam decided at that moment that he couldn’t stand Emma Swan for wasting all of Liam’s hard work. He knew that to say that out loud to Killian would be a mistake, however. First of all, Killian didn’t know of Liam’s sacrifice, and second of all, Killian seemed quite enamored of the blonde (though Liam did pick up on some strain between the two; perhaps that was due to Killian’s tendency to bear the burden of guilt quite heavily?). He would have to express his doubts about Emma’s role as hero in this quite carefully so as to avoid alienating his brother.
“She doesn’t exactly sound like someone who would encourage you to be the hero you should be. I must admit, I’m a little taken aback that she was the one you’d pick,” Liam said, crossing his arms and pondering the story that Killian had told him, one of heroes and villains and Dark Ones and Excalibur and death.
Killian shook his head vehemently. “She pulled me out of the darkness in which I found myself. She’s good and true, a hero for all the realms. You don’t know her, Liam.”
“I know enough,” Liam responded, taking a sip of his water.
“No, you don’t. You didn’t know her before she became the Dark One, you didn’t know her after she took the Darkness to save us all, and you didn’t see how she was able to overcome it. You don’t know her better than I. I won’t stand to hear you cast any more aspersions against her character. She is all that is Light and good. She makes me want to try and be the man I always wanted to be.” Killian stared hard at Liam, trying to make him understand why Emma was his choice.
Liam considered Killian’s words for a moment before nodding to communicate his understanding. Though he completely disagreed with his brother’s summation of Emma Swan, he wasn’t fool enough to continue to voice his opinions to his brother out loud. After being unable to see his brother for so long, he didn’t want to anger Killian by offering an opinion that clearly wasn’t wanted. But Liam thought it was perfectly acceptable to have an opinion on the lass that was different from his brother’s, and it was that opinion that he would hold onto. After all, Liam hadn’t condemned an entire crew to death by drowning in a storm just for some blonde to come in and undo all of his hard work at making sure his brother had the chance to be a great hero. Liam resolved that he would make it his personal mission to ensure that she wouldn't derail Killian’s death as one.
He would be on his brother’s side regardless of whether his brother would want him to be or not. LIam and Killian drank their water, and after a few more moments Emma came down the stairs. She sat down and picked up her glass and took a gulp.
“So I told my parents that we would meet them in an hour at the loft,” Emma announced. Killian nodded. “They told me that souls completing their unfinished business and moving on somehow manages to weaken Hades’ hold over everything.”
“So all we have to do is get as many people as possible to finish their unfinished business, then?” Killian quirked an eyebrow at her. “Do I understand it correctly?”
Emma shrugged. “Apparently it can help, but I don’t know how we can figure out what each person’s unfinished business is.”
Killian hummed and played with his glass. “Perhaps each person would have some idea of what it could be?” He turned to Liam. “Liam, what about you? Why are you down here?”
Liam shook his head. “I wish I knew.” Liar, he thought. “I spent countless years trying to figure out the reason.” Liam’s eyes trailed down and stared at the right hand side of the table. He didn’t catch Emma’s furrowed brow and the suspicious tilting of her eyes as he thought about the situation. He hadn’t needed to spend years trying to discern a reason; the reason was sitting right in front of him, though Killian didn’t know it. Liam had borne the countless years of guilt due to his decision that put them on the path they had followed.
Killian turned to Emma and told her, “There is no reason. Hades has the game rigged so no one can leave. My brother’s proof of that. Never did a bad thing in his life.”
Liam grimaced a pained smile that he hoped came off as geniune at Killian’s commendations.
“He even died nobly, stopping a treacherous king from poisoning the realm,” Killian finished.
Liam’s heart panged with guilt and shame. His gut churned and he felt as if he were going to be sick all over their kitchen floor. His palms felt sweaty, and it was lucky he were seated because his knees had suddenly gone weak and his legs had lost all feeling.
To cover his discomfort, he stated, “Stop it. You’re making me blush.”
Luckily, Liam’s two companions didn’t notice his embarrassment. Killian continued, “Hades has you, too, trapped down here, and that cannot stand. The only way everyone will get free is if we defeat Hades once and for all.” Emma nodded, and Killian turned back to his brother. “Liam, you’ve been down here a long time. Surely you must know something that can help us.”
Liam tried his best to set aside the guilt roiling in his gut to answer. “I know this is a very dangerous game you’re playing,” he warned Killian and Emma, who seemed to pay it no heed. “There are those who tried to overthrow Hades before,” he added. “They always spoke of a… a book, which had the power to defeat him. I tried to find it myself, but I’m not even sure what to look for.” This was the rumor that had circulated over the years between the patrons of The Rabbit Hole. He was sure that it wouldn’t mean anything to his brother or his brother’s lover.
Emma tilted her head in consideration. “I think it’s a storybook,” she announced, drawing the attention of the two men.
Liam blinked. “Storybook? Oh, I’d wager it would take more than stories,” he dismissed.
Killian raised his right hand and waved a pointed finger. “No, no, no, no, no. She’s onto something. In our world, there’s a book like this.”
Liam stared uncomprehendingly.
“Everything up there has a version down here. There has to be one in the Underworld,” Emma explained.
Killian turned to Emma and added, “If there’s a story in that book about Hades,” he glanced briefly at Liam before turning his eyes back to Emma’s, “we can learn his weakness and exploit it.”
Liam drew a deep breath. He had told them of the book as a throwaway comment; he hadn’t meant for them to take it seriously. But looking at his brother, he could tell how serious Killian was about this goal. Killian was stubborn, to put it mildly. He wouldn't let this go until it was done. He shrugged.
“All right,” Liam responded. “If you believe in this, Killian, I’m with you to the end. This fiend trapped me and tortured you. The day you push your sailors too far…”
“Is the day mutiny begins,” Killian finished with a grin. Liam returned it halfheartedly. He knew it wasn’t Hades that had trapped him here in the Underworld; it was his own inability to face his worst mistake. He just hoped he could continue to keep it a secret from his brother and from his old crew.
#ouat#ouat holiday fics#ouat fanfiction#ouat ff#captain swan#captain swan fanfiction#cs ff#emma swan#killian jones#OUAT season 5#episode 15 the brothers jones#Extended edition#anmylica writes#csss2022#for their-seafaring-ways
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Self Promo Sunday: "We Gather Together (Glad for the Blessings)"
This week's rerun is another little Thanksgiving one shot, meant to be taking place somewhere at the end of Season 6. I realize that Thanksgiving was over on Thursday, but I still wanted to share the little offerings I had for this sometimes overlooked holiday. I feel like it would be a very special and important holiday for both Emma and Killian - seeing as it's so much about family and togetherness with those you love, and both of them lived without that for so long.
Anyway, this is divergent from canon due to Robin's being alive and Belle not taking Rumple back, but otherwise I think it pretty much could have happened. Hope you all had a wonderful holiday yourselves, and that you enjoy this small story to celebrate the occasion!
** Also available on AO3 or ff.net (if that's your preference)***
Summary: A bit of Thanksgiving fluff - and a lovely, quiet moment for the whole Charming-Jones-Mills family count their blessings and rejoice in how far they've come
by: @snowbellewells
Barreling into the kitchen calling out "Henry?! Killian?!", Emma Swan was already well into panic mode due to the charred, burning smell that had reached her nostrils as soon as she'd mounted the steps to the front porch and the plumes of gray smoke wafting into her vision in the entryway once she opened the door. She was skidding to a stop at the kitchen table before she realized that, though the fire alarm had been bleating raucously, there were no sounds of panic or yells of dismay. Instead, both of her True Loves were now frozen, looking to her guiltily like they’d been caught with their hands in the cookie jar. Killian was bent over the open stove, and Henry had his arm outstretched, fanning the air with a hot pad. They appeared to have been happy as clams until her sudden entrance..
Clearly they weren't in any immediate danger, and Emma's posture relaxed upon seeing that the house wasn't burning down and neither her son nor her pirate was blackened to a crisp. Shaking her head at them both, she genuinely tried to look stern instead of relieved and ready to burst out laughing. Crossing her arms, she mused aloud, "Do I even want to know what the two of you are doing?"
Sighing in defeat, Killian stood to his full height, letting the oven door bang closed and not quite meeting her reproving gaze as he raked a hand through his hair. He darted a quick glance at Henry, then finally answered her question. "We were trying to help you, Swan. It seemed prudent to get started with the main course before hosting your entire family tomorrow, and the lad felt sure he could offer guidance on the proceedings."
Henry flushed as Killian gestured toward him, and shrugged sheepishly, looking up at her with big brown eyes that, though in an older face, still proved as irresistible to her as when he'd showed up on her doorstep as a ten-year-old. "I may have overestimated how closely I was watching my other mom the last time she did this."
Emma couldn't help it; her metabolism did tick up a few notches and her eyes widened in shocked dismay. "Oh no, don't tell me… Do you mean to say you guys ruined that 19 pound Butterball I had all ready in the freezer?"
Killian winced a bit at her reaction. "Come now, Lass, it isn't as if we did it on purpose. You were just saying last night how you wanted everything to be perfect, you've never been able to celebrate a real family Thanksgiving with all the trimmings before, and everything should be just right. We only wished to help you along."
Emma gave an exaggerated nod as she responded, "Ah, I see," before a knowing light slipped into her eyes while studying one and then the other to see who would crack first. "Just selfless action from the good of your hearts, was it?"
Henry nodded, pulling off a ridiculously innocent look, but Killian couldn't quite meet her gaze, peeking up at her from beneath the fringe of his dark hair and eyelashes like a poor, repentant rascal. "Well, Swan, if the truth be told, we might have become a bit distracted…"
"I thought so," she affirmed with one last quick, triumphant dip of the head.
"Yes, well," Killian hemmed and hawed adorably, and Emma was almost afraid she might bite through her lip trying not to laugh out loud. The whole kitchen mishap was already long forgiven, but watching him stutter in embarrassment like he often caused her to do was too priceless to end just yet. "Love, your boy's moving picture box sucks a man in with its programs. Are you sure it doesn't possess some sort of hypnotic magic of its own? Perhaps we should not let Henry…"
"Okay, okay, hold up," Henry broke in anxiously, not about to see his stepdad - much as he might love him - relegate him back to the Stone Age with concern over modern technology.
Emma couldn't hold back her dissolution into helpless giggles any longer, and Killian stopped short with an affronted look at the noisy interruption from both of them at once. After a few moments, Emma reined in her laughter, assured Henry he wouldn't be losing all television privileges, and turned with the both of them to survey the wreck that had been her nice, clean kitchen when she'd left that morning. "Well boys, let's see what we can salvage," she said at last.
OoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooO
In the end, the turkey is magicked to golden brown perfection for the holiday meal. Emma had hoped to succeed at doing it the old fashioned way, but after seeing the damage Killian and Henry had wrought with their attempt – and though she only admitted it to herself, knowing either one of them was better in the kitchen than she was, when not unfortunately sidetracked – she decided there was no sense in further risking the main course she intended to serve to company.
She, Killian, and Henry did spend a warm, domestic, evening making the accompanying side dishes together. After placing a tray of butterhorn rolls in the oven to cook, Emma turned to see Henry flip a spoonful of cranberry sauce at Killian, hitting him square on the nose and making him jerk back in surprise at the splat of impact.
"Hey now," her pirate warned, glowering as he raised a spoonful of stuffing for a counterattack.
Emma thought idly that she should be warning them not to waste food, not to destroy their kitchen for a second time in one day, and basically chide them both to behave themselves, but instead she could merely watch as author and pirate mounted a giddy food fight she eventually joined, hugging herself tightly so she didn't simply burst with the joy swelling up inside her, so full of gratitude for both of them, for a home and family at last, and for this moment in which to enjoy it all. Thanksgiving, indeed.
That night when Henry had settled into his own room and the house had grown quiet, Emma stopped Killian as he left the bathroom after brushing his teeth, biting her lip at the all-too-inviting sight of him in dark blue lounge pants with little white anchors printed on them that he wore for sleep and all that dark hair on his toned and scarred chest. He looked upon her with a curious quirk to his brow, but didn't question her, only wrapped his arms around her waist and brought his forehead to rest against her own.
Enveloped in his warmth, Emma grew almost dizzy at the minty fresh breath he exhaled against her neck and nearly lost her train of thought altogether, but she pulled out the item she had intended to show him. It was the wishbone from their turkey, and she held it out for him to see. "Do you know what this is?"
"Aye," Killian answered, though she could tell by his expression he had no clue why she would draw his attention to it. "It's some part of that fowl we prepared for tomorrow's feast, but why…"
He trailed off when she twined the fingers of her free hand with his and brought his hand up to grip the opposite end of the wishbone from the one she held. "They're for wishing on," she explained briefly, playful mirth in her eyes. "People pull them apart and whoever gets the larger piece makes a wish that is then supposed to come true."
"Alright Lass, if you say so," he agreed gamely, a bit of a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth now as well.
Holding her breath, Emma thought of all the times she had wanted to do this as a kid and had never been the one who got the wishbone. Or all the times as an adult that she'd had it, but no one in her empty apartment to hold the other end, or to appreciate the wish she'd made, nor share in her joy if it did come to fruition. As the fragile bone snapped and they looked down to the pieces in their hands, Emma and Killian found it had broken almost evenly, and so she whispered, not wanting to break the calm stillness in the room, "Let's say we both wish…together."
Killian merely nodded and closed his eyes as she did. When she opened them again, it was to meet his blue, blue gaze shining back at her. She had the feeling they'd wished for the exact same thing…many more years of holidays like this.
OooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooO
The blessed feeling carried over to the family dinner the next day. Sitting at the head of the long table in the dining room of a home of her very own – hers, Henry's and Killian's – the first time she'd ever had such a thing, Emma felt as though the whole scene was bathed in some sort of golden light, like she was living inside a perfect Norman Rockwell painting. The table surface was packed, crammed, overloaded with food – from the golden brown, crisp-skinned, turkey and their perfectly toasted, flaky butterhorns to Regina's apple dumplings, green beans, noodles, mashed potatoes, stuffing, and cranberry sauce. The ten-year-old foster child inside her nearly drools at the bounty, never quite able to banish the breakfasts, lunches, and dinners missed, the times she had sat alone in some cafeteria, eyes fixed on the food other students carelessly tossed in the bins which she would have loved to have while she had been packed nothing to eat and had no money to buy even a carton of milk, of the times she had gone to bed in a rickety bunk, stomach growling and unable to stop fixating on those cabinets full of snacks that were off limits. Seeing Henry to her right, Emma ruffled his hair affectionately for just a second before he turned to grin at her proudly. He was clearly as pleased as she was that their time spent cooking the previous evening had given them this much to show for it. Moreover, she could only rejoice that he had never known the lonely, starving days she had, and the fact that neither she nor Killian ever would again.
She gave her father a nod of confirmation where he sat at the other end of the table, leading him to grin widely, the warm look of love and happiness on his face making her feel even more that this moment really was all she had been missing – all she had ever wanted – all those years she spent alone. As David stood to carve the turkey and Snow alternated between beaming up at her husband proudly and passing the plates now loaded up with juicy slices of turkey down the table, Emma squeezed Killian's hand with her left, and he cut a knowing glance at her, showing clearly that he understood and felt it too.
Beside Henry sat Belle, then Snow, and across from Henry were Regina, Robin, and Roland. It would seem that their family continued to grow and warmly open to welcome into its circle anyone with nowhere else to belong on this day meant to be spent with loved ones. As she had wished for that very thing each holiday season for 28 years, Emma could think of no better nor more heroic thing for her family to do.
Once everyone had been served – both turkey and all the other dishes filling the long table – Killian stood with raised glass, even as Emma tapped her spoon against her own to garner everyone's attention for him. "A toast, mates, if I may," Killian announced jovially in that rich, enticing voice. Emma shivered slightly at the way its tones thrilled through her, though trying to give no outward sign; she would gladly listen to him read the ingredients of the box for the stuffing, but she knew everyone else was hungry and ready to dig in, so her heart swelled just that much more when the others around their table dutifully paused and turned to listen to him with genuine interest and agreement.
"I daresay I shan't keep us from this delectable feast for long," her pirate intoned, "but I have more to be grateful for this year than I have ever possessed in my ridiculously long life, and my thanks must be offered…"
He paused, meeting the eyes of each of those gathered around the table briefly, and then continued with a fervent tone which came out sounding a bit choked with emotion. "When I first arrived in this realm, still lost in my bitterness, anger, and thirst for revenge, I could not have imagined a day like this, full of peace, love, and gratitude. Emma, Love, when you offered me the chance to join you and be a part of something, and we undertook that desperate quest to Neverland, the idea that we could come to belong to each other as we do now, that you would hold my heart in your very palm, or that I would find myself with a true family again, seemed inconceivable. Yet, I am so glad you gave me that last chance, like a line thrown in the drink to a drowning man. It saved my life, turned me back around to the man I once meant to be. My thankfulness to be here with all of you today cannot be adequately expressed." He swallowed hard, dipped his head, and then took his seat again. "You have all blessed us with your presence at our table."
"Cheers!" everyone else agreed, raising their glasses to clink with each other around the table, several other eyes misty and voices husky with feeling besides their captain's. Emma blinked quite a bit herself, glancing around at their motley crew.
Her fingers reached across to trail lightly over Killian's shoulder, stroking his back soothingly for a few moments and then rising to delve playfully into the dark hair at the nape of his neck. Brushing gently through the soft strands, Emma smiled affectionately as his head inclined slightly toward her, thinking humorously that if he were a cat, her sailor would be nearly purring in contentment right now. This moment deserved to be captured – preserved – in her mind forever; she couldn't feel any more stuffed with grateful satisfaction.
OooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooO
It was nearly midnight when the last of their guests had been seen to the door and out into the chilly dark of Storybrooke's nighttime streets. Henry had gone with Regina; they had a tradition of shopping, followed by decorating the mayor's mansion for Christmas, and then capping the evening off with homemade apple turnovers running over with icing on their day after Thanksgiving. Emma marveled at Henry's blithely forgiving ability to still eat the things with relish after nearly dying from one bit of just such a poisoned pastry also made by Regina long ago. Still, she couldn't deny she was also glad to have her pirate to herself this night – a true quiet moment for the two of them.
They were curled around each other on the couch in the living room, watching flames crackle merrily in the fireplace, feet up on the coffee table, each of them enjoying a sweet taste of leftover pumpkin pie.
"Open up, Darling," Killian urged, fork upraised to her lips with a piece of sticky filling and flaky crust adorned with the sweet white topping she loved. Emma really didn't need him to feed her, but she playfully went along with his gesture and hummed in pleasure when the flavors exploded on her tongue.
"Mhmm, really good," she mumbled, her mouth still full, but nodding her head and moving to get a piece on her own fork and return the favor for him.
Killian's deep, reverberating chuckle stopped her though, and he leaned forward just enough to wrap his lips around the tip of her nose, licking off the bit of whipped cream he'd gotten on her moments before. It was a mostly innocent gesture, but his proximity, the warmth of the near kiss, and the fact that they were truly – finally – alone, relaxed, and had nowhere else to be, had her heart hammering triple time as she sat up quickly, unfolded her legs and pulled him up with her.
"Come on, Pirate," she spoke a little breathlessly, a devilish gleam in her eyes, "we can finish this later."
It didn't take him long to catch on and follow her eagerly, still chuckling with his hand in hers, as she picked up the can of whipped cream from the coffee table where she'd placed it earlier and hurriedly pulled him upstairs.
Tagging a few who may enjoy: @kmomof4 @searchingwardrobes @jennjenn615 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @laschatzi @jrob64 @apiratewhopines @stahlop @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @xsajx @gingerchangeling @gingerpolyglot @kazoosandfannypacks @booksteaandtoomuchtv @anmylica @bdevereaux @motherkatereloyshipper @tiganasummertree @optomisticgirl @spartanguard @elizabeethan @the-darkdragonfly @donteattheappleshook @winterbaby89 @jonesfandomfanatic @lfh1226-linda @bluewildcatfanatic
#self promo sunday#ouat thanksgiving one shot#cs one shot ff#post s6 canon divergent#we gather together (glad for the blessings)#thanksgiving one shot#holiday fluff fic
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Taking a break from writing.
Unfortunately I didn't manage to complete the Christmas swanqueen fic I hoped to publish before December 25. Maybe before the end of January, once I'll be writing again.
I have other ouat WIPs.
And Supergirl stuffs I'm excited about, mostly comics, but also a few fics, but I'm not really into that fandom right now. It's not forgotten though.
So yeah, taking a break.
Christmas has been rough folx. Between my general anxiety about the holiday, about 'family', about socialising, it sucked. Add some politics discussions at the Christmas table. Add the noises and the flashing lights. Add the chronic fatigue. Add the gender dysphoria of being misgendered and deadnamed all the time.
I'm just exhausted.
I gonna need time to rest. Not that I stand idle. But I'm more oriented toward tasks that help me regulate my emotions and anxiety. Lots and lots of organizing and cleaning (both in real life and in animal crossing). Lots of cooking. Damn I getting healthy! But they're good coping mechanisms.
I wish you a merry whatever-you're-celebrating. Or a merry doing-nothing if it's more your cuppa tea.
Stay hopeful.
#supergirl#ouat#supercorp#once upon a time#swanqueen#swan queen#swen#christmas dinner#christmas blues#christmas depression#christmas anxiety#actually anxious#actually anxiety#actually nonbinary#actually trans#enby#writing problems#writer's problems#writer's block#fic writing
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Storiesofsvuholidaybingo2022
That's right!! Fall is over! There is snow on the ground (at least here there is...) and it is basically November 1st, so y'all know what that means!?!?!
It's time for Winter, Holidays, Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, whatever you celebrate, whatever you love about this time of year!!
Prompts are all winter/holiday themed, and for the sake of saving space & keeping the bingo card legible, "Christmas" can be substituted for any other holiday or celebration on the prompt square (ie, "First Christmas" can be "First Hanukkah" instead when you write it)
Submissions can be anything! A mood board, a ficlet, headcanons, drabbles, gif sets, one shot, a chapter of an ongoing series, social media au's, whatever you want!!
Read the rest of the rules under the cut!!
Prompts can be any genre, make it super spicy, make it tooth rotting fluff, make it heart shattering angst, turn it into an AU. Just make sure to include any and all appropriate warnings at the top and tags!
Fics can be a ship, reader insert, or an OC. You can mix and match, stick with one, even try out something new!
Accepted Fandoms:
Anything and everything!! Yes!! This is wide open to ALL fandoms, it can be something I write for, it can be something I've never even heard of before! The point of this bingo is to include everyone and have some fun living in our fantasy worlds around the holiday season! Some examples;
Law and Order (SVU, mothership OC), Criminal Minds, 911/Lonestar, MCU, One Chicago, NCIS, Homeland, House of Cards, Grey's Anatomy, Private Practice, A League of Their Own, The L Word, CAOS, OUAT, Why Women Kill, House of the Dragon, The Good Fight, and everything and anything in between!!
Rules!
You must tag me @storiesofsvu and use the hashtag #storiesofsvuholidaybingo2022 on each creation & I'll put together the masterlist.
Bingo begins November 13th and runs all the way through to January 8th.
Only post ONE creation PER DAY, and only one square per creation!
No underage yn's/oc's
Tag all and every warning appropriately at the top of the fic
Anything over 1000 words MUST be under a readmore!
If you have any questions feel free to message me!
_____
Tagging some people who might be interested!
@alexusonfire @swimmingstudentchaos891 @tinyboxxtink @naturalxselection @prurientpuddlejumper @mickey-gomez @beccabarba @thatesqcrush @wannabe-fic-reader @narvaldetierra @bumblebear30 @plaidbooks @fighterkimburgess @lannister-slings-and-arrows @pascalispretty @justalittleghostwriter @adarafaelbarba @melk917 @cycat-carisi @alwaysachorusgirl @caracalwithchips @maximoffwitch @bullet-prooflove @resanoona @blackholelynn @happenstnces @adacarisi @misscharlielulu @erinlindsayy @unexpected-character @slytherbun @alexisxcherryxslurpee @leftoverenvy @charturnus @whiteberryx
#storiesofsvuholidaybingo2022#law and order#law and order special victims unit#grey's anatomy#private practice#one chicago#911#911 lonestar#MCU#a league of their own#the l word#homeland#criminal minds#house of cards#ncis#once upon a time#why women kill#house of the dragon
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I saw this post going around about how there's not a lot of interaction for @cssecretsanta2020 and also @csgiftexchange [hope it's okay that I tagged you guys] between the gifters and their people. I know there's quite a few people who probably feel the same way, so I've decided to make a Captain Swan Christmas Ask Game. Obviously, anyone can participate, reblog, and send asks, but it also might be helpful for those of us who aren't quite sure what questions to ask our giftees.
GIftees, if you want a little more interaction from your secret santa/gift exchanger, (or just other users in general!) feel free to reblog!
Givers, if your giftee has reblogged this, you know have a few ideas for some questions to ask them (and don't forget to reblog it yourself so your giver can hit you up with some asks)
Without any further overexplanation from kazzy:
Captain Swan Christmas Ask Game
How long have you been a Once Upon a Time Fan?
Around what point in the series did you start shipping Captain Swan?
Favorite Captain Swan scene?
What are some non-Captain Swan ships you ship?
What are you most looking forward to this Christmas?
How are you doing on your giftexchange/secretsanta gift?
Do you have a favorite holiday tradition?
Favorite Christmas/holiday treat?
Favorite hot drink?
On a scale of 1-10, how much do you decorate/prepare for Christmas?
Got most of your holiday shopping done?
Do you feel like you have a set Christmas aesthetic?
What's a favorite holiday memory of yours?
Favorite Christmas movie?
Favorite Christmas song?
Favorite Christmas TV special episode?
What does Christmas mean to you?
Do you have any Captain Swan Christmas headcanons?
Favorite Captain Swan headcanons in general?
Have you ever participated in this kind of event before?
Favorite kind of Christmas cookie?
A few of your favorite CaptainSwan fic recommendations (either ones you wrote or ones you've read.)
What's Christmas morning like for you?
Do you do any of the holiday cooking/baking?
Do you have any favorite christmas outfits or accessories?
Do you own any OUaT merch?
What's your biggest Christmas wish this year?
What are some of your favorite platonic relationships Killian and Emma have?
What are some of your non-ouat OTPs?
What's your opinion on X [character, story arc, holiday thing, ext.]
Merry Christmas, loves!
#once upon a time#captain swan#killian jones#emma swan#captain swan gift exchange#captain swan secret santa#my inbox is totally open for any of these asks from anyone!
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Chipped Cup Awards are still on!
Hello, all you lovely Rumbellers! It’s nearly November, and you know what that means: it’s time to start thinking about nominations for the Chipped Cup Awards!
As many of you are aware, The Espenson Awards, our fandom’s beloved event to send love to Rumbelle writers and artists, was retired last year. In an effort to keep the fandom thriving, we decided to make an event that will keep the spirit of the TEAs alive, while putting a new spin or two on it.
One thing we heard from several participants was that the size of the ballot could be daunting to fill out. We listened to your feedback, and did our best to distill the nomination categories into something that’s a bit more manageable, while still giving plenty of individual categories to choose from. You can see the complete list below the cut. If you have any feedback on these categories, you can send us an Ask. We’ll be happy to take it into account!
We’re also reducing the number of nominations needed for each entry down to three, where previously it was five. We’re hoping that this will give a wider range of fan works to choose from.
Finally, we’re adding a new feature: shout-outs. This will operate similarly to the Newby Spotlight, in that it is not a voting category. It gives the fandom the chance to shine the spotlight on some old favorites that may have been forgotten over the years. You can find more details on this feature at the bottom of the nomination categories under the cut.
We hope you’ll enjoy this event - both the tried and true aspects, and the new spins we put on things. If you have any questions, concerns, or other feedback, feel free to send us an ask or respond to this post.
Love,
TCCA Mod Team
FLUFF
Family
Comfort
Fix-It
Reunion
SMUT
Kink/BDSM
Romance
Comedy
Threesome
Best First Time
PWP
ANGST
Death
Hurts so good
Misunderstanding
ROMANCE
Best Date (Overall)
Best Hamburger Date
Best Courtship
Best First Meeting
GENERAL AWARDS
Best One-Shot
Best Series
Best Novel Length Fic (does not have to be finished, but must be a minimum of 40k words to qualify)
Best Holiday Fic
Best Remix
Best Crossover Fic
Best Dark Castle
Best Storybrooke
Best “Missing Years” Fic (taking place between Gideon’s birthday party and That Thing that happened in ‘Beauty’)
SPECIAL CATEGORIES
Best Golden Lace
Best Woven Lace
Best Woven Beauty
Best Rumbelle Poly Ship (ex: Golden Swan Beauty, Mad Golden Beauty)
Best Background Swanfire
Best Afterlife Fic
Best Drama
Best Supernatural/Sci-Fi/Horror
Best Comedy Fic
Best AU - Original
Best AU - Based off OUAT setting
Best AU - Based on other media
Best Creature Fic
Best Unexpected Twist
Best Dark One Lore Fic
Best Bobby Squared (a fic featuring more than one Bobby character, including multiple instances of Gold and/or Rumple)
Best Trope
Best English as Second Language Fic
EVENTS
(All fics in these categories are limited to 2022 events only.)
Rumbelle Secret Santa
Fluffapalooza
Monthly Rumbelle (Non-smut)
Monthly Rumbelle (Smut)
CHARACTER AWARDS
Best Belle
Best Dark One!Belle
Best Lacey
Best Detective Weaver
Best Dark One
Best Mr. Gold
Best Spinner!Rumple
Best Wish!Rumple
Best Baelfire/Neal
Best Gideon
Best OC Rumbelle Child
Best (Worst) Villain
Best BFF/wingman
ART
Best Fan Art
Best Cover Art
Best Graphic Art
Best AU in Art (encompassing traditional art, gif sets, still photo sets, etc.)
Best Fluff Art
Best Angsty Art
Best Smutty Art
Best Comic/Graphic Novel
Best Use of Color
Best Video
SUPERLATIVES
-BEST ARTIST
-BEST NEW ARTIST
- BEST AUTHOR
- BEST NEW AUTHOR
- BEST RUMBELLE FIC
- BEST ANYELLE FIC
- BEST ANYEM FIC
- Rumbelle Fandom Lifetime Achievement Award
Awarded to a person who has done something spectacular in the fandom. Either by making people feel welcome, organizing events, or simply embodying the Rumbelle fandom as a whole.
- Newbie Spotlight
This award goes to people who began contributing to the Rumbelle fandom since the last T.E.A.s. Those eligible include new writers, artists, gif-makers, etc. Anyone who creates content for the fandom. This category is not voted upon - every newbie whose name is put forth is added to the Spotlight list so that older members of the fandom can get to know them and their work!
-Fic/Art Shout-Out
This is a brand new category where all participants get the chance to nominate up to three fanfics and three fanarts that they love. This work can be anything you want - finished or unfinished, a prior TEAs winner or not - but each one MUST be from different writers/artists. The idea of this is to call the fandom’s attention to works and creators that you feel deserve love from the fandom: forgotten favorites, hidden gems, or that one work you keep coming back to years later. This is your chance to spread the love and encourage others to do the same!
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