#cs halloween fic

[captainswanholidayspecialreruns]

Captain Swan Halloween Reruns presents: The Inbetween

Written by: jarienn972

Recommended by: anon

Summary: Emma is tasked with locating 3 teenagers who didn't come home after spending an evening trying to be amateur ghost hunters in the abandoned Sorcerer's Mansion. In a house they already knew was full of surprises, Emma and Killian find that the teens might not be the only one

What the recommender loved: I love the author's writing style, it's a creative premise and the relationships and characterizations are all wonderful!

What we love: It's a fun story with lots of spooky elements! I was on the edge of my seat! -kazzy

read it here!

[elytrafemme]

also just remembered that i have like, at least 3 fics that im planning to write once i finish CS in that universe which i had forgotten about? because for a while i was planning on like, just finishing CS and then moving on to other fandom content, but CS barely feels like fandom content anymore its just my little guys so. i think i finish the main fic and then i go into like, writing other fandom stuff and then also CS oneshots

[horanghaejamjam]

Jigsaw - {CS}

↪   Summary: You are the lead detective in an investigation surrounding one of the most infamous killers the city has ever seen. Unfortunately for you, Jigsaw knows you're onto him and has played you like a game at every turn, threatening the case and your status. Your determination to catch him finally gets you a lead, only for you to find yourself tangled in a special trap that he designed just for you. Let the game begin.

↪ Pairings: Jigsaw Killer Choi San x Female Detective Reader

↪   Rating: M 18+

↪   Genre: Non-idol/Slasher/Horror movie au/ Suggestive / Fluff/Friends to enemies to lovers

↪   Word Count: 5.7k

↪ Warnings/Contents: References to classic horror movies, mainly Saw, Silence of the Lambs, and Scream. Mentions of death/murder/being shot (not detailed). Seonghwa and Mingi both make cameos in this story with a few other members being mentioned. Swearing and implied smut (MDNI). San being a teasing little shit, makeout sessions, fondling over clothes.

↪ Side Notes: To the wonderful @pinkywritings hi darling I was your assigned Ghost Writer for the @atinyhalloweenproject. This is my first time writing for San and I had a lot of fun with it so I hope you enjoy it! Sorry it is so late I wanted to have it out by Halloween but due to the sudden weather change we haven't had power. I tried to make it longer to make up for that so hopefully it doesn't feel rushed and was worth the wait!

I honestly may do a part two to this or an expansion later on because I love the idea of Jigsaw San but we'll see.

↪ Click here to see my other Ateez stories

↪ Click here for other kpop masterlists

↪ Click here to join my fic taglist

“Police officials are seeking any leads in identifying the man known only to the public as the Jigsaw killer. He is believed to be linked in multiple disappearances and murders that have taken place around Seoul for the past three months. The victims were all found in various handmade traps and had a puzzle piece drawn somewhere visible on their body. At this time investigators have no leads and are asking the public for any knowledge they may have on this public threat.” 

The reporter's voice faded to nothing as the volume on the TV was lowered to zero. You groaned softly to yourself as you tossed the remote to the side, running your hands through your hair as you sat forward on your couch. It had been just over a month since you were assigned the Jigsaw murder case, the last detective backing out after the man in question threatened to target his family. The case was quickly transferred over to you, one of the best detectives in your field, but it was very quickly starting to test your patience. 

Whoever this Jigsaw was, he was a clever man. He left no trace, no evidence, nothing that would allow you to track him down. You went through surveillance, interviewed the family and friends of the victims, tried breaking down his traps for any clues, but any lead always led you right back to square one. You had tried to be patient, hoping that eventually he would slip up and give you something, but it was starting to sound like wishful thinking. Even worse, he knew who you were and started calling you out directly. You would find notes addressed to you, pictures, voice messages, all calling you out and taunting you. It was like he was playing some cruel game with you and you had no choice but to play along or risk losing everything. You couldn’t even walk to work anymore without some reporter chasing you down demanding an explanation or any evidence you had in the case. It came to a point where you only went to the office when called, and the rest of your work you did from home. 

Various evidence pictures and case files were thrown across your coffee table, a few rough notes scribbled in between. You had been looking at the same files for the past couple of hours, dissecting every last word to see if you had missed any connections. Your last victim had been found 72 hours ago, and you knew you only had a day at most before the next one. There were a few things you had discovered about Jigsaw, and the main one was that he worked on a schedule. Once someone was reported missing, it would be three days before their body turned up and the cycle would start again. Whoever this man was, he clearly enjoyed his patterns, and that is what you found yourself looking for, any pattern you may have missed. 

“Working from home again I see?” you practically jumped out of your skin as you heard the deep voice of your roommate behind you, turning around to see his tall frame leaning over the couch. 

“For Fucks sake Mingi you almost gave me a heart attack!” you whined, reaching up to lightly smack at him, “what are you doing here anyways I thought you weren’t coming home tonight.” You and Mingi had been friends for as long as you could remember, having met back in high school and staying together through college and your time at the police academy. He was like a brother to you at this point and you trusted him so you didn’t mind if he saw your work, even if he technically wasn’t supposed to. Mingi always found your work to be fascinating and would bug you randomly about cases, which only grew more when you started investigating Jigsaw, though you assumed it was just because you got to bring your work home now. Just as you predicted, he made his way to the other side of the couch and took a seat next to you, picking up one of the crime scene photos to get a better look. 

“I was going to stay at Yunhos tonight but something came up and he had to cancel,” Mingi explained, running his thumb over the picture he was holding, “ouch this looks like it would have been painful, what is it?”

“That’s one of Jigsaw's latest traps,” you answered, snatching the photo away from him, “I’m looking through it to see if I can find any missing clues.” 

“Have you found anything?”

“Sadly no, he’s very good at covering his tracks. It’s been a month and we still don’t have any leads on this guy, it’s like he’s a ghost or something.” Mingi hummed softly as he continued to look through all the pictures, careful not to mess them up knowing you would yell at him if he did. 

“Now I’m no expert but, are you sure you’re only looking for one person?” he asked, catching you off guard. 

“What do you mean?”

“I mean all these crime scenes you’ve shown me have been pretty big and this says it only took three days, seems like a lot of work for one person if you ask me.” Mingi explained, “and that’s why your patterns wouldn’t line up like you want them to.” You blinked up at him dumbly for a moment as you processed his words, looking back down at the file you had basically memorized by this point. You didn’t want to admit it, but Mingi had a point. 

“You know that’s actually not a bad idea,” you muttered. 

“I can be helpful sometimes you know,” he bragged with a laugh, earning himself a punch to the shoulder. He didn’t have time to retaliate though as you were packing up all of your things and rushing towards the door, “Wait where are you going?”

“I need to check on something, don’t wait up for me!” you called back, pulling on your coat and running out the door as he called after you. In your rush you hadn’t realized that you dropped part of your case file on your way out, nor did you notice Mingi pulling out his phone to call someone as he closed the door to your apartment.

ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ

You made it to the crime scene in no time, an abandoned warehouse located just on the edge of the city. You parked your car a bit away and pulled out a flashlight as you made your way inside, ducking under the caution tape and pulling your jacket closer to yourself as you looked around. The clean up crew had gotten most of the scene cleaned by now, but the trap itself was still there. A weirdly broken mess of chains and blades that you wouldn’t have been able to put back together if you wanted to, making you wonder how Jigsaw even came up with the idea in the first place. You shook the thought out of your head and made your way to one of the blades, leaning down to inspect it carefully. It was sharp with a curve to it, but almost messy in design as if it was handmade. To test that theory you took a look at another one and noticed the same thing except this one was thicker and less curved despite being set up the same way. The chains themselves were also a bit sloppy when you looked at them closely, almost as if they had been done in a rush. It wasn’t as clean as Jigsaw's normal work, and now Mingis suggestion that you were dealing with more than one culprit seemed more plausible. 

You took your phone out to snap a picture just as the door to the warehouse opened, a new light pouring in and a familiar voice calling your name. 

“Over here!” you called back, flashing your light in his direction so he could see you. Quick footsteps made their way towards you before a familiar figure came into view. Park Seonghwa, a senior detective that had transferred over to your department a little over a year ago and assigned as your partner. You had been against the idea at first since your original partner had been killed only a few weeks prior during an investigation gone wrong. The chief had insisted it would be for the best though since you needed the help and Seonghwas cool and more collected nature would balance you out nicely which would prove to be true. Your impulsiveness had driven the older detective crazy a few times, but for the most part the two of you got along well and you could even consider him a friend. He was wearing a long black coat and matching gloves and his hair was long and falling into his face rather than slicked up like normal, probably because he had been at home resting when you called him. 

“Would you care to explain why you called me out here in the middle of the night when I haven’t heard from you in the last 48 hours?” Seonghwa questioned, unable to hide the annoyance in his tone. 

“I’ll make it up to you but I figured this couldn’t wait,” you muttered, going back to inspect the chain again, “I’m trying to prove a theory about something.” 

“That theory being?”

“What if Jigsaw isn't working alone?” you challenged, “what if it’s more than one person, that would explain why nothing lines up.” Seonghwas eyes widened a bit and you could have sworn you heard him mutter something under his breath, “what did you say?” 

“Oh nothing,” he brushed you off, “what made you so convinced of this new theory? Did you find something?” You froze for a second, not wanting to expose yourself for letting a member of the general public view the case file. 

“Just a hunch,” you lied, “but I mean look at the way this trap was built, it's messy compared to the others, almost as if it was made by someone else.”

“Or maybe Jigsaw just ran out of time and rushed on it,” he argued. 

“Can you just humor me for five seconds Seonghwa,” you groaned, “maybe I’m wrong yes but isn’t it at least worth looking into?” Seonghwa rolled his eyes but gave in, walking to the other side of the trap to get a better look. You were too distracted by your own work to pay much attention to him, meticulously looking through every detail of the trap despite not actually knowing what you were looking for. Your instinct was telling you that there was something there you were overlooking, something that was hiding in plain sight, you just had to figure out what that was. 

“Hey Y/N,” Seonghwa called out after a few minutes, “I think I found something.” Your head shot up and you quickly dusted yourself off before making your way over. Seonghwa was standing in the corner of the warehouse holding what looked to be a tape recorder. “I found it tucked away over here, may have gotten knocked around during the investigation,” he explained. 

“Does it say anything?” you asked, taking the recorder from his hands and pressing the play button. There was only static for a moment before a robotic voice spoke up, like someone was speaking through a voice changer. Despite that, you couldn’t help but feel like the voice seemed familiar to you, but it was hard to tell through the editing. 

“Hello Detective Y/L/N,” the tape addressed you, sending a chill through your body, “these past few weeks you have been running around in circles trying to discover who I am. You have been closer to the truth than you realize but you always end up blindsided by your work and, as a result, you overlook the answer that is right in front of you. I have enjoyed silently watching you up until this point but now it is getting quite boring so why don’t we make this a bit more fun? Do you like games, detective? I hope you do because I want to play a game with you. I have left a riddle for you, the answer to which will tell you all you need to know about who I am and what I do. You have 48 hours to find the riddle and tell me the answer or you will find yourself and those closest to you in a very undesirable situation. The timer starts the second this recording ends, let’s hope you are as clever as everyone says you are. Let the game begin.” 

  You felt your blood run cold as the tape came to an end, barely registering Seonghwas hand on your shoulder as you tried to process everything you just heard. Seonghwa tried talking to you but you ignored him, pushing his hand off and rushing back to your car, your partner not far behind you. 

“Where are you going? We should report this to the office first!” he called after you. 

“What good is reporting it going to do? You heard him Hwa I have 48 hours to figure out who this guy is or we’re all screwed, I can’t waste time.”

“So what you’re going to rush into something and get yourself killed?” he argued. 

“Better than doing nothing and getting everyone else killed,” you snapped back, “now if you’ll excuse me, I need to find this riddle he’s talking about.” Seonghwa called after you again but by this point you had gotten in your car and were already making your way back to your apartment. Part of you felt like going home was a bad idea, but you also couldn’t help but feel like something was pulling you to go there. The same feeling of familiarity that you got hearing the tape returned, making you feel more and more uneasy as you pulled into your apartment complex. Like you knew who Jigsaw was and yet the image of his face was blurred any time you tried to imagine him.

Mingi didn’t seem to be home when you got back, his shoes were gone and the light was off. You couldn’t focus on that though, as your attention was drawn to the stack of papers placed neatly on your coffee table. You carefully walked over and looked through the pile, recognizing pictures from all the different crime scenes you had investigated so far, each one marked with red ink. 

‘Y/N, doesn’t this random pattern seem a bit too random?’

‘This is quite close to home don’t you think?’

‘The truth has been in front of you the whole time.’

‘Why do I do what I do?’

‘Did you miss me?’

You ran your hand through your hair as you continued looking through the pictures, realizing that the riddle was basically going to send you on a scavenger hunt. It would take forever for you to go back through each crime scene and look back through everything to find out what he was talking about. Even worse, it was pretty late and you could feel exhaustion slowly taking over you, slouching over the coffee table and eventually laying against it as you fell asleep trying to decipher the riddle. 

You were jolted awake by the sound of your phone vibrating, groaning softly as you sat up and reached into your pocket for the device. You half expected it to be a call from Mingi or Seonghwa, but instead you were greeted with the same robotic voice from the night before. Only this time, you were able to hear his actual voice a bit more and it was one you swore you had heard before. 

“Good morning Sleeping Beauty, I hope my riddle didn’t keep you up all night,” the voice immediately woke you up, straightening your posture as you looked around. 

“Who is this?” you asked. 

“Aww I’m almost offended you don’t remember me, we go way back you know,” the voice responded, “I’ve missed you Y/N, and even if you don’t remember me now I know you miss me too.” You paused for a moment at his words before realizing now was not the time to worry about that. 

“Why are you doing this?” 

“That. my dear detective is for you to find out, you always did enjoy the thrill of a good challenge didn’t you? I figured you would have solved my puzzle by now but since I believe in giving people a fair chance I’ll give you another clue. One of those puzzle pieces doesn’t quite belong, once you find the answer I will be waiting for you in the place we last met, don’t keep me waiting Doll.” With that the call ended, causing you to groan in frustration and toss your phone to the side. 

“I’ve had about enough of these damn games,” you huffed, rubbing your hands over your eyes. You looked through the pictures again before one in particular caught your eye. It wasn’t one of the Jigsaw crime scenes, but instead it was a picture of an older house, one that you recognized from your last murder investigation with your old partner, San. The memories slowly came back to you and that’s when it finally clicked for you, the puzzle and the reason the voice sounded so familiar to you. That was impossible though, San was dead, you had been at the hospital with him when the doctors told you there was nothing they could do. There was no way that San was still alive, and yet you would recognize his voice anywhere. Shaking your head, you grabbed your phone and stood up, calling Seonghwa and telling him to meet you at the house in question as you left your apartment and got in your car. The whole ride there you tried ignoring the feeling of dread that came over you, hoping that your intuition was wrong. 

ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ

Seonghwa was already at the house before you got there, leaning against the wall with a blank expression. “I take it you found the answer to your riddle?” he asked as you walked past him, leading him inside. 

“As much as I hope I am wrong I think I did,” you confessed, “and if I’m right the clue we are looking for should be here somewhere.” Seonghwa stood still in the middle of the room as you frantically looked around, digging through his pocket and following your movements with his eyes. 

“This isn’t one of the crime scenes,” he pointed out, “what exactly are we looking for?”

“Jigsaw said to find him at the place we last met and this place was the only one pictured that wasn’t one of the crime scenes,” you explained. Seonghwa hummed softly at your answer, but you ignored him as you continued looking around. 

“Why here then, what’s so special about this place?” you froze for a moment at the question, an action that didn’t go unnoticed. 

“This was the last place I investigated with my first partner,” you answered, “he was shot during the investigation and I thought he was dead but I’m starting to think I was wrong.” 

“You think it’s him,” Seonghwa stated rather than asked, to which you nodded. 

“I don’t know why he would do such a thing, but it all lines up.” Seonghwa sighed and glanced down at his watch before making his way towards you. 

“I’m surprised you know, you solved the riddle faster than we thought you would, we’re a bit ahead of schedule.” His words made your blood run cold, freezing as your head turned to look at him. 

“What did you just say?”

“I’m sorry about this Y/N,” Seonghwa apologized, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a syringe, “just know I don’t make the rules, I’m just the delivery guy.” Before you could react to his words he had grabbed you and injected you with what you assumed was some kind of anesthesia, your body going limp in his hold almost immediately and your vision going black. The last thing you remember hearing was his voice and footsteps approaching before you completely lost consciousness. 

When you returned to consciousness the first thing that you noticed was that you couldn’t move. Your arms and legs were handcuffed to a chair that also appeared to be bolted to the floor so you couldn’t tip it over. Tugging at your restraints, you glanced around to find that you were in some sort of workshop, various trap parts and gadgets tossed around multiple workbenches. At the front of the room were what appeared to be security monitors, each watching different parts of the city that you could just barely make out. 

“I have to hand it to you Y/N,” a voice said from behind you, “the last detective didn’t make it nearly as far.” The sound of footsteps echoed through the room before a figure appeared in your vision, wearing a full body red and black hood. Even though his face was covered by the hood, you could feel the presence of your former partner.

“How, I thought you were dead,” you whispered, not sure what to feel at the moment. In any other circumstance you would be over the moon to know he was alive, but how were you supposed to feel knowing he was the serial killer you had been anxiously tracking down. Shock, betrayal, anger, sadness, confusion, all of these emotions swirled through your brain like an endless whirlpool, pulling you in deeper and nearly bringing tears to your eyes. 

“Everyone did,” San replied, turning away from you to face one of his work benches, “the doctors said it was a miracle, that no one thought I would make it through the night let alone make a full recovery.” You could hear him messing with something, but couldn’t see what it was, struggling to look past his shoulder as he continued talking, “I tried to find you after you know? I thought you were the only one left that cared about me, and yet even you managed to turn your back on me.” 

“I always cared about you,” you argued, “that’s why I’m trying to understand why San, why did you do this?” It was at this point that he finally turned to face you, pulling the hood back so you could see him properly. He looked almost the same as you remembered, but there was a cold gaze in his eyes that almost made him feel like a stranger. This wasn’t the warm hearted and cheerful person you used to consider a friend, he was a killer. Despite this, however, you couldn’t help yourself from falling for his familiarity, almost as if you could convince yourself the old San was still in there, somewhere. 

“You never realize just how valuable life is until you are inches away from death,” he explained, “the adrenaline and the fight to survive, it almost feels like you are being reborn. The more I thought about it, the more I realized how corrupt the world we live in truly is, because no one really knows how to appreciate the life they are given until it is nearly taken from them. You may not understand it now but trust me my methods will help make the world a better place.”

“You’re killing people because you want them to appreciate life?” you questioned, wondering if he was actually being serious. There was no way a person's mind could be that twisted, right? 

“You think I’m a killer?” San asked, not needing a verbal response since your glare was enough confirmation, “that’s where you’re wrong you know. I have not killed anyone, all of my games are survivable as long as the player has the will to fight for it. Those who failed the games basically killed themselves.” You wanted to argue that putting people in these death traps still made him a killer but he cut you off, “Seven people have won so far, seven people who had that will to live and had the chance to be reborn. They understand what it truly means to be alive and now they help me spread my message. You may not understand me now, but I really do hope that you will be the next.” 

“So what, am I the next person that gets to be put in one of your death traps then?” you groaned, tugging at your restraints. San pouted a bit but shook his head. 

“Your game began the minute you took the case from Detective Kim,” he explained, “you and I always seemed to have an understanding so I had hoped you would pick up on my clues and join without a fight, but you were far too stubborn to listen. Eventually I had to cut my losses so I had my apprentices plant fake evidence to finally get you here, it was the only way.” Your heart dropped a bit at the word apprentices, your mind immediately going back to Seonghwa and how he was the one who brought you here. 

“So you’re telling me the whole time,” you trailed off. 

“Seonghwa was working for me, yes, Mingi as well, they both survived my games and agreed to help with the cause and when you took over my case I knew I could use them to guide you in the right direction,” San explained. He took a moment to glance at a clock on the wall before sighing and making his way over to you. San rested his hands on the arms of the chair and used them to prop himself up so he was leaning over you, “As much as I have enjoyed our little chat I’m afraid we do not have much time. I really do like you Y/N so I will give you a choice. Join me and together we can help change the world for the better.”

“And if I refuse?” you challenged. 

“Well then I guess we’ll have to play a game,” he hummed, leaning away from you, “The second I walk out of this room it will lock and a timer will start. Behind you are two doors, each with a different combination, one door will lead you to the exit, and the other will lead you to me. If you choose to leave then you will be free but you will lose your chance to catch me. If you choose to come after me, then you have a chance to learn the truth at the risk of your freedom. The combinations are hidden in this room and you will have exactly one hour to find them and leave through the door of your choosing, and trust me you don’t want to know what will happen if you run out of time.” San chuckled softly before pulling away and walking behind you, “This is your last chance to accept my offer Y/N, I would hate to lose you like this.” He waited for a moment but when you didn’t respond he sighed, “Very well, let the game begin.” You felt him place something into your hand, which you quickly realized was a key, before the door slammed shut and San was gone. 

ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ

It didn’t take you long to unlock yourself, taking a second to rub your wrists as you stood up and made your way cautiously around the room. You did your best to stay calm and not look at the clock as you examined the doors and then looked around for the combinations, which you quickly realized were hidden on his tools. The question was, do you free yourself and turn your back on the case, or do you risk it all and try to go after San. The rational part of your brain was screaming at you to just get out of there and not look back, and yet you quickly found yourself moving on autopilot. Before you could really process what you were doing, you had entered the code for the door labeled “Truth” and ran through it, stepping into a dark hallway and letting the door lock behind you. 

You took a moment to compose yourself before heading forward, placing your hands against the walls to help feel your way through the space. All the doors were locked until you came to one at the very end that was cracked open, revealing what looked to be a makeshift office space, with nothing but a desk and filing cabinet in the room. You poked your head through first, looking around for any sign of life before slowly stepping inside and making your way to the desk, only to gasp as you felt another body pin you to it. 

“I knew you would come after me,” San whispered, spinning you around so that you were facing him. Your body was pressed between his and the desk, his arms caging you on either side as your eyes locked. 

“I can’t let you get away with this,” you argued, trying to wiggle away from him but San was stronger so he held you in place. 

“Come on Doll, you and I both know that’s not why you came after me,” he teased, “maybe it was at first but if that was the case now you would be fighting me harder.” He was right, even if he was stronger you knew you could at least hold your own enough to get him away or subdue him long enough to call for help. Yet you couldn’t bring yourself to actually fight him off, struggling against him enough to save your pride but not enough to actually push him off. “So tell me,” San continued, “why did you really come after me, was it because you were curious about my work? Or, was it because deep down you missed me?” Honestly, you weren’t even sure if you knew the answer, your body having reacted before your mind could catch up. 

“This isn’t right,” you argued, reaching your hands up to push at his shoulders. 

“And yet here we are,” he teased, backing up enough to wrap his arms around you and pull you closer to him. Your bodies pressed together and your arms instinctually made their way around his neck which made him chuckle. “I always knew you were special, you understood me in a way that no one else ever did. Stay with me, nothing will be able to come between us.” San leaned down until your lips were centimeters apart, his breath tickling your lips with every word. You tried not to give into him, knowing that this was wrong, but you also couldn’t deny the thrill that ran through you just from being near him. You had always cared for San when you two were partners, hell there was even a time where you could argue that you did have a crush on him. That was back then however, when he was the sweet and easy going detective that decorated his desk with mini plushies and would whine if you forgot to get him a pastry on your morning coffee runs. This version of San wasn’t like that, even if the allure was still there, he was cold, twisted, and a killer. 

“I can’t do this,” you argued, “you’re not the man I once cared about.” You tried to turn your head away from him, but he gripped your chin to force you to look at him. 

“Yes I am, behind all of this it is still me and I can prove that to you,” he whispered, “just let me show you.” When you shook your head again he huffed, loosening his grip for a moment before it tightened again, “Fine then, how about another game?” 

“I already won your stupid game though!” you challenged. 

“Yet you still haven’t learned,” he fought back, “the least you can do is give me a chance to convince you. If you don’t give in then I will go with you to the station and turn myself in, but if I win then you quit being a detective for good and you stay with me.” You gave him a questioning look, at this point more than positive that he had gone insane. However, if playing his dumb games meant putting an end to Jigsaw, then you were more than willing to oblige. 

“Alright fine, deal,” you reluctantly agreed. You only had a moment to register Sans smirk before he was pulling you against him again and connecting your lips. One hand stayed pressed against your back to keep you against him, while the other tangled itself in your hair, tugging slightly to get a reaction out of you. The kiss wasn’t rough or forced like you had expected, instead it was gentle and passionate, like he wanted to take his time with you. His lips were surprisingly soft against yours, and you began to slowly melt against his movements. You kissed him back and allowed him to have more control, whining softly against his lips when he tugged a bit harder at your hair. Your own hands trailed down his body, tracing his shoulders and chest for a few moments before daring to go a bit lower. San groaned as he felt you palm him over his robe, tightening his grip on your hair and deepening the kiss as his own hand reached down to grab at your thighs and your ass. 

All your resolve melted away at his touch and you found yourself giving into him completely, relishing in the way he invaded your senses. All rationality had left completely, replaced with an unusual desire as San explored your body. As desperate as he was, his touches remained soft and left you craving more whenever he pulled his hand away. San walked you back until you reached the desk, lifting you up enough to sit you on top of it and slotting himself between your thighs as he finally pulled away. You only had a second to catch your breath before you were pushed back slightly and pinned down by your hands. San hovered above you with a knowing smirk, taking a moment to enjoy your flustered expression before leaning down to whisper directly in your ear. 

“Looks like I won. Game Over!” 

Ateez taglist: N/A

Please see my pinned post to be added to the taglist.

[kmomof4]

Anon Ask That Tumblr Wouldn't Let Me Post

Ohhhhhhh my, nonnie!!!! As all the other respondents to this ask have said before me, this was HARD!!!!

My top three fics- that I reread the most, at least once a year- those were easy...

Dark Hook Comes to Storybrooke by @hollyethecurious and @winterbaby89

Fairytales by @kymbersmith-90

And the Swan-Jones Trio Unlocked series, and now in addition to the SJT, I've added the Swan-Jones Family fic, Cross Every Line by @totheendoftheworldortime

But beyond these fics, there are SO MANY that I LOVE SO MUCH, it is LITERALLY IMPOSSIBLE to narrow it down.

So instead of trying, I'm gonna go down my list of authors I read the most and give you my favorite of their fics... Ready?

@artistic-writer Alii Dimidium Lunam, but only because she wrote it for me, I dreamt about it before it was written, and it was a big part of the inspiration for the CSSNS way back in '17...

@jrob64 Sowing Seeds of Trust

@snowbellewells for Marta, I truly could not choose, so I'm going with her latest fic, Deluge written for this years CSSNS

@whimsicallyenchantedrose Taking Back Neverland

@zaharadessert After much waffling and indecisive hand wringing, I think I'm gonna have to go with Halloween Gambit...

@motherkatereloyshipper Lost Girl: Found

@nachocheese-itsmycheese Darkness Will Be Rewritten

@cosette141 Begin Again series

@deckerstarblanche A Twist of Fate

@the-darkdragonfly The Ripple Effect series

@donteattheappleshook More

@elizabeethan Never Nothing series

@goforlaunchcee Waning Moon

@caught-in-the-filter Sharing the Joy

@thepirateandhisson Once Upon a Mama Mia

@xarandomdreamx The Curse of Misthaven Manor

@ohmakemeahercules I Knew I Loved You

@jonesfandomfanatic Meeting Your Needs

@teamhook The Wolf and the Savior

@mie779 Fragmented Lies

@sailtoafarawayland Fallen and Wanting series

@cs-rylie Irish Betrothal

@spartanguard Even Death Won't Part Us Now

@hookedonapirate Tangled Up in Blue

@iamstartraveller776 The Nightwalker Chronicles

@undercaffinatednightmare Once Upon a Shapeshifter

@booksteaandtoomuchtv Have to go with her brand new one for this year's CSSNS, Witchy Woman, because even though there's only one ch so far, I know it will be checking every single one of my boxes, so... there it is...

@searchingwardrobes Hope Is the Thing With Feathers

@grimmswan Orchid Island

@stahlop Making a Memory

@shireness-says A Fate Woven in Thread and Ink

@exhaustedpirate post mortem

@wyntereyez Squid Pro Quo

@eddisfargo Not a Day Will Go By

@kazoosandfannypacks Window Seat

@kazoo5480 Breaking Down

@anmylica Something About December

@veryverynotgoodwrites Perilous Harbor

@beckettj The Huntsman

@athenascarlet It's Complicated

@myfearless-love Untie My Silhouette

@ohmightydevviepuu (if I fall asleep) the shadows win

@killiansprincss A Court of Vines and Shadow

@hufflepuffinstorybrooke If You're Lucky, Love Leaves Scars

Those above are all at least still semi-involved in fandom, on Tumblr or on discord, even if they haven't necessarily written or updated anything in a while. Tumblr is being ornery, so I'm going to have to cut a few fics from this list and the fics from authors that have either moved on from CS fandom or RL has taken over. So I'll put those on another post in a few minutes... hopefully.

Update- Well, it did work, but just so all the recs can be found on the same post,

Here

Is the link to the Tumblr post with the rest of the recs!!!

[scary-grace]

fic writer tag game

I got tagged by @mirkwood-hr-department for this game several days ago and at long last I have time to sit down and do it, so --

How many works do you have on Ao3?

Sixty as of Halloween night!

What's your total Ao3 word count?

1,958,061. And we're not even halfway through Kairos. Yikes.

What fandoms do you write for?

The Tolkienverse (namely the Hobbit) and My Hero Academia.

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

i ain't changed, but i know i ain't the same -- bnha erasermic hanahaki fic

seeking a friend for the end of the world -- barduil zombie apocalypse au

Kairos -- barduil SLOW burn historical haunted house romance set in 1977

Show Me My Silver Lining -- bagginshield band AU (my first grown-up fanfiction)

more than words can wield the matter -- after the Elves return to their forest at the conclusion of the Battle of the Five Armies, a certain elf starts writing Bard some very questionable letters

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I usually don't respond to them in thread, but I thank everyone for them in the author's note of the next chapter, and I respond to specific questions there or on Tumblr!

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Undoubtedly i'll follow you into the dark. For now.

What is the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Show Me My Silver Lining. For now.

Do you get hate on fics?

I used to get it, back when I was writing on fanfic.net. I get the odd inexplicable comment these days, but so far I've been lucky on Ao3.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I write smut. I think. Mostly it's the nonexplicit variety, but I recently started using the three Cs when needed, so maybe it's explicit now?

Do you write crossovers?

I do not! The closest I've ever come to a crossover is naming all the non-canon background OCs in my BNHA fics after characters from a certain other manga. Nobody's guessed what it is yet.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

No to that as well!

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes! My collaborators include incredible writers like @lonelyheartsmotel, @dogblessyoutascha, and @corndog-patrol!

What's your all-time favorite ship?

Barduil, no contest. The sheer number of words I've put into that pairing is unreal. The fact that I even have another ship is thanks to the sheer power of @corndog-patrol and e-girl!Mic.

What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I intend to finish them all, and am trying to finish at least two this week. But as for unpublished stuff, probably the barduil 'a quiet place' AU. I didn't make it too far, and I definitely lost motivation.

What are your writing strengths?

I think I'm pretty solid at writing plot. Nothing makes me happier than leaving foreshadowing lying around and seeing if readers catch it.

What are your writing weaknesses?

As evidenced by my Ao3 word count, I'm not very concise.

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I don't think I've ever tried it. I usually indicate dialogue that's supposed to be in another language with italics.

First fandom you wrote for?

Marvel. On fanfic.net. Dark times.

Favorite fic you've written?

Mm, I think Kairos is still my crowning achievement. But I have to say that I'm really proud of Love Like Ghosts, the first fic I ever wrote entirely in the Notes app on my phone and the first fic where I avoided ever using the main character's name.

I'll go ahead and tag @dogblessyoutascha @phantombstone @sophsiaaa and @melkors-defense-attorney!

[naffeclipse]

TW mentions of pet passing (feel free to skip this ask ❤️

Only just now got to Double Toil and Trouble because Halloween I was saying goodbye to the last of my trio of childhood cats (had them since I was 6, they were with me through a very rocky growing up, homelessness, trauma,etc) and when she was gone it felt like Iw as grieving all 3 of them all over again and that final realization of they aren't coming home.

But with the new chapter I finally got around to it today (I was the one who sent the orange cat tiktok lol) and ITS SO GOOD I'M!!!! and like oddly comforting after everything and just oh the boys 🥺 and dancing with Sun in the field and that moment with Moon and the witch butter, and like I sort of under because it's a smaller thing compared to SL and CS when I came back I'm surprised there doesn't seem to be so much hype. I'm biting and eating it so much

Also something I love with your writing is it seems every chapter of each of your fics I seem to learn at least 1 new fun word!! I don't see that so much with others and I love how in depth you describe scenes!!

Awww, I'm really glad it can be of some comfort ♥ ♥ ♥ Thank you so much for reading and enjoying it!

I think it's a bit smaller response because it was supposed to be a one-shot thing for Halloween, but maybe once it's a full fledge fic, it can get more people involved with it ♥

[vilsoo]

hi twinnn <3 can we just talk about ur theme for a min cs bestie you outdid yourself it ate frrr !! but im zari and i hope we can talk more 🤍

omg thank you zari 😋🫶🏽 since ur new, the shit i write on my blog consists of sex and horror (my favorite genre to write for especially since halloween is right around the corner 😩) but im hoping to interact with you more honey <33 ur theme is sosososo cute and i cant wait to read ur fics!!

[uniwolfcorn]

🌈Masterpost🌈

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hello ladies and gentlemen! I hope all of you are having a lovely day/night over there!❤️🧡💛💚💙💜💖

💖My name is uniwolfcorn, but you can also call me UniPinkWolf, Uni, Wolf/Wolfie, Pink/Pinkie/Pinky, or Uniwolf! She/her or they/them.

💖I'm an artist, fanfic writer, and gamer! Currently obsessed with Thunderbirds, the Anderverse, and Pokémon!

💖Current Socials:

✨️Pure SFW blog: cozycutecubbies

✨️Discord: uniwolf2 (current account is still locked under F2A and new dumb dumb username feature lol)

✨️Ao3: UniPinkWolf

💖My tags: #uni's art, #uni's webkinz madness, #uni's random ramblings, #uni's fics, #uni speaks, #uni answers asks, #uni's paintings, #photoshop madness

Need a shortcut to my junk? Feel free to read the masterlist below!❤️🧡💛💚💙💜💖

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

💖Masterlist!💖

Thunderbirds

Fics:

• Impact (whump, hurt/comfort, blindness)

• Chance (meantions of blindness + deafness)

•Sleep, Jefferson (whump/hospitalization mention)

• He Came Home (TOS, major character death)

°Chapter 1, Chapter 2,

•Cherish (TAG, mentions of depression, mini-bang)

•To Be A Leader (TAG, hurt/comfort, mini-bang)

•First Aid (TAG, whump, hurt/comfort, mini-bang)

•Buttermilk (TAG, hurt/comfort)

☆

Art:

•Mage Alan (Thunderfantasy!au)

•Roses (gift for Mariashades)

•TB Photshop Dump

°Part 1, Part 2,

•Character Sheet: Mage Alan (Thunderfantasy!au)

•Thunderfam Is Go

•Thunderbirds Dango/Mochi

☆

Miscellaneous:

•Thunderbirds Day 2022

•Thunderbirds Pokémon Teams

•What's Joop Thinkin' About?

•TB Bugs/Insects

•Thunderfam Theories/Headcanons

°Rebirth (major character deaths, theory),

•Whump Couch Announcement

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Stingray

Fics:

•Phones' Log

°Introduction, Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7,

☆

Art:

•Clinically Depressed Edition

•Stingray Photoshop Dump

☆

Miscellaneous

•Stingray Pokémon Teams

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Captain Scarlet

Art:

•CS Photoshop Dump (OG)

☆

Miscellaneous:

•Captain Scarlet Pokémon Teams

•Captain Blue's Bday Surprise

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pokémon

Gameplay Stuff:

•The Worst Fight Ever

☆

Art:

•Shellos Variants

•Fakemon Dumps

°Part 1,

•Clothing Sets

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Anderverse/Anderson

•Gerry's Gory Demise (Halloween 2021, major character deaths, gore/gore mentions, violence)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Webkinz

•You're Underwater Tho-

•Spree Hell

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My IRL Arts

•Paint By Number: Hot Air Balloon

•Coloring Book: Pretty Kitty

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Misc. Stuff

•My Plushie Collection

•Nadrac's Bday Gift (2021)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[spartanguard]

life was a willow and it bent right to your wind (CS Halloweek 21)

Afraid I don’t have anything new this Halloween, but in case anyone wanted to revisit last year’s seven-part, Taylor Swift-inspired CS Halloweek fic, here’s everything in one handy post! Happy Halloween!

Summary: Samhain brings a turning point for witch Emma and pirate beau Killian, in both their lives and their relationship. Gods willing, what they’ve built is strong enough to resist the temptations of darkness—but the only way to find out is to move forward.

AO3

1. I’m like the water when your ship rolled in that night

2. wherever you stray, I follow

3. the more that you say, the less I know

4. show me the places where the others gave you scars

5. as if you were a mythical thing

6. I’m begging for you to take my hand

7. wait for the signal and I’ll meet you after dark

[captainswanholidayspecialreruns]

Heads up! Referral forms for Halloween fanworks open up tomorrow (9/4) at 12:00PM EDT!!! 🏴‍☠️🦢🎃👻

[elytrafemme]

i mightve sent smth like this already. can't remember tbh. but like. cough syrup is prolly the first fic i've read with a psychotic character who isn't just. written weirdly? like. idk how to explain it. cs!ranboo just seems. so human?? which was and still is really comforting. bc i read cough syrup a bit after i kinda. started coming to terms with the fact that i'm prolly. psychotic to some extent. and like. i'm just some lanky dude who shops off the hot topic clearance rack. and cs!ranboo's like that too. and. idk. where i was going with this. but yeah. thank u for cough syrup it makes me feel human

it was around chapter 8 or 9, i think, when i had talked to my therapist about some issues i was having and she told me it could have been stress induced illusions. that later snow-balled rapidly into depression-linked psychosis, and then into just psychosis, since y'know, i started writing cough syrup in the tail-end of my psychotic break early 2021. took me a lot longer to realize that's what that had been, though.

and y'know i had intended to make cs!ranboo struggle with psychosis at some capacity, since that just fit c!ranboo's character, but it became a lot more personal to me at that point. cs!ranboo was the only place i felt i could talk about these delusions and all this shit i was dealing with, and in all the times i was sobbing because i had lost so much to this perceived failure of my mind, i thought that maybe i could write this character who has the same issues as me, getting a chance to be happy. to find people that love him, who will stay by him, who he could find some kind of stabilizing and lasting peace with.

in a lot of ways, though i bitch now about having to write his chapters, cs!ranboo was my way of coping with a lot of things i was going through. and you know i was actually scared of posting it at a certain point, because it feels so fucking vulnerable. you don't really see a lot of psychotic characters in media that aren't stereotyped, oftentimes written by non psychotic people following a checklist and inevitably messing up somewhere because they're being careless and then find themselves creating this caricature. i don't ever claim that my writing is perfect or good or without flaws, but at the very least my portrayals are genuine in some sense, that i'm using experience and research and both combined to guide it.

i think one of the best things to ever come out of cough syrup is people finding comfort in the characters. so many people found solidarity with cs!tubbo from the beginning, and that grew into projecting things onto him that i'm happy to accept because hell they're not just my characters, they're characters i'm sharing with you all. but what gets me is how many people find comfort in cs!ranboo, like you, because i was so worried about casting that light on everything and am so glad now that i did it.

it's incredibly fucking important to me that the characters i write feel like people. cs!tubbo isn't just an addict, he's a teen who likes checking on NASA's annual halloween-themed posters and who only gets extremely competitive when playing Wii sports games and creates all these associations in his head and fucking sucks at making paper cranes but does them anyway as a love language. cs!tommy isn't just an abuse victim, he's a teen who's favorite color is red and half his clothes are like that and he knows all the cool parks and shops in town and he loves walking around and finding more places and he likes superheroes and animal crossing.

and cs!ranboo isn't just his psychosis, he's a teen that likes baking but hates having to bake cupcakes and will complain about that, and he likes taking photos of other people and hanging onto them for a while, and he likes the idea of falling in love but is a little clumsy with it, and he has a questionable fashion sense but it makes him feel comfortable, and he likes english class but hates chemistry

and all i hope to do is show that (1) these characters' lives are affected by their struggles, but it's not all they are as people (2) you are deserving of love and WILL be loved no matter what you struggle through (3) if you connect to any of the cast, hi i love you you're going to make it you're going to be happy.

sorry for the long tangent. i just - this ask made me feel really happy. because hearing this, that people can find some connection with cough syrup? it's all i've ever wanted. if i hear that then i have a reason to keep writing it, i have a reason to fight through annoying ass chapters and the whole lot of it.

wishing you the best anon. thank you for sharing this with me.

[horanghaejamjam]

Hallows Eve - {CS}

↪ Summary: Your friends trick you into doing a Halloween ritual that’s supposed to summon a demon. You never believed in demons but do it anyway just to please them. Needless to say you didn’t expect it to work, nor did you expect yourself to end up trapped in the underworld by a demon wishing to claim you as his.

↪ Pairings: Demon prince San x Female presenting reader

↪   Rating: M 18+

↪   Genre: Fluff/Smut/Demon Au/Arranged Marriage/S2L

↪   Word Count: 3.8k

↪ Warnings/Contents: Smut (MDNI), Hard dom/possessive San, Power dynamics (Use of "sir" and "brat"), corruption, unprotected sex marking/biting, multiple orgasms, and body worship, aftercare and San being super soft at the end.

↪ Side Notes: PLEASE READ: This is a collab fic with @kpopidolsangel and is also a submission for the @atinyhalloweenproject this one is for the lovely @kpop-stories-21

Angel came up with the concept as well as made the banner and wrote the first half of this fic. However due to a family emergency she was unable to finish it and asked me to take over the story. All credit to the idea goes to her. I also apologize for the delay on this one and I hope it was worth the wait!

↪ Click here to see my other Ateez stories

↪ Click here for other kpop masterlists

↪ Click here to join my fic taglist

There is a common legend that makes its way through your town every October. The legend goes that if you go into the woods at midnight, light a jack-o'-lantern, and recite an ancient poem, that you can summon a deity known as The Demon of the Hallows. The legend then states that anyone who summons him with a kind spirit will be blessed with a special gift, but those without a kind spirit would never be heard from again. You wouldn’t call yourself a skeptic or anything but you were never one to humor the legend. It was something you brushed off as a dumb story high school kids used to scare their friends or younger siblings. Needless to say, never in a million years did you expect to find yourself standing in the middle of the woods with a poorly carved jack-o'-lantern and a lighter. Your friends were hiding behind the trees a few feet away from you, not wanting to take any chances in case this ritual did end up working. 

This had all started during a Halloween party you were attending with your friends. Yunho had been the one to bring up the legend to which Mingi and Wooyoung had insisted that you try it, just to see what would happen. They agreed you had to be the one to do it since you were the most “normal” out of the friend group and before you knew it you were being dragged out of the party and into the woods, Wooyoung stealing one of the carved pumpkins from the porch so you could complete the ritual. 

It was completely dark out, with the moon being the only source of light, barely allowing you to make out the shadows of your friends from where you stood. Your rather thin vampire costume doing very little to shield you from the cold fall breeze, and you didn’t bring a jacket as you hadn’t planned on going outside. Your dress fluttered in the wind and tickled at your legs as you shivered and rubbed at your arm to try and stay warm. 

“This is ridiculous!” you called back, “can’t we just go home, it’s freezing out here!” 

“What’s the matter?” you heard Wooyoung call back to you, “are you scared it will work?”

“I’m not scared of a demon, I'm scared of freezing to death!” you argued back which caused the boys to laugh. 

“You’re so dramatic!” Yunho teased. 

“We only have two minutes until midnight, just do it!” Mingi added. You really wanted to just leave them there and run back to the house, but you knew you would never hear the end of it if you did. 

“You guys are so dead once this is over,” you groaned, setting the pumpkin down on the ground and waiting for the cue to start. Once Wooyoung gave you the go ahead you quickly lit the candle inside the pumpkin and recited the poem as best as you could remember it. The light from the candle flickered in the wind as you waited a moment to see if anything would happen. As expected, nothing did and you had to stop yourself from rolling your eyes as you stood up and dusted yourself off. “I told you guys it wouldn’t work, can we go now?” you called out, only to be met with silence. “Guys?” you tried looking around but you could no longer see the shadows of your friends. You knew they couldn’t have left that quickly without you hearing or seeing them, so your first instinct was that they were hiding from you just to scare you. “Really funny, come on guys I want to go back,” you said, walking over to the tree only to realize there was no one there. The woods fell eerily silent as you began to panic, calling out for your friends and looking around only to find that no one was there, you were completely alone. 

“Why so scared little one?” you quickly turned around to see a figure standing in front of the jack-o'-lantern where you had just been. He stood just a bit taller than you, with wide shoulders and a slim but toned waist. His hair was long, mostly black but you could see white peeking out at the bottom, the strands perfectly slicked back behind two black ram-like horns. He was wearing a black suit with red trim and gold embellishments that matched the gold headpiece he was wearing. Tucked behind him you could just make out the outline of batlike wings, resting against his shoulders. His eyes were sharp as he looked at you, and when you moved closer you could see the red color and cat-like pupil, the charcoal style makeup he was wearing only served to help accentuate his features. If you weren’t intimidated by his presence, you would have found him to be insanely beautiful. 

“I-who are you?” you stuttered out as you walked over to him, causing him to chuckle. 

“You are the one who called me here and yet you don’t know who I am?” he questioned, clearly amused by the situation. You, on the other hand, were terrified as you struggled to form a proper sentence. 

“Wait so you are The Demon of the Hallows? I didn’t think you were real!” you confessed. 

“That’s the name people gave me over the years, but I find that title much too formal,” he mused, “call me San.” You blinked at him in confusion as he moved closer until he was only a foot or so in front of you, smirking to himself as he took a moment to look over you. “You really didn’t believe in me did you? Poor thing, I can sense your confusion from miles away,” he cooed with another laugh, “let me guess you were tricked into doing this weren’t you? Your friends dragged you out here then ran away at the first sign of danger?” Your eyes widened at his observation, staring down at the ground while you played with the hem of your dress. 

“How did you know that?”

“My Sweet Y/N I’ve ruled over these parts for centuries, I know everything. Also you wouldn’t be the first pure soul to find yourself in this predicament,” he explained, reaching a hand out to brush your hair out of your face. You flinched slightly from the sudden contact, but you couldn't deny there was a strange warmth behind his touch, a welcome sensation that nearly had you leaning against his hand as he pulled away. “I must say,” he confessed, “of everyone who has called upon me, you are definitely the most beautiful, and the most innocent. You are exactly what I have been looking for.” With a pleased smile, he stood up straight and offered you his hand, which you took after a moment of hesitation, “Come with me, it’s time I show you your new home.”

“New home?” you questioned, “what do you mean new home? And what do you mean I’m what you’ve been looking for?” 

“I have waited years for the right soul to turn up, to complete me and help tie me to the mortal world and I have finally found it,” San explained as he tugged you along, “you my darling, are going to be my bride.”

ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ

You don’t remember much of what happened after San pulled you away, almost as if you had blacked out. When you woke up, you found yourself tucked into a large bed, having been changed out of your costume and into a red silk nightgown. Your hair was also down and brushed out and your makeup had been removed. You sat up slowly, hugging the black comforter against your body and taking a moment to look around the room. It was a large master bedroom, mainly decorated with black, red, and gold. The bed was on a carved wooden frame with a swirling pattern carved into it at the base. There were also black curtains surrounding the frame that were currently tied up to allow you to see the rest of the room. There were no windows, all the light coming from the chandelier that hung over the middle of the room, casting a warm glow into the otherwise black room. The rest of the furniture that you could see was the same carved wood as the bed frame, and the room was decorated with various paintings and trinkets. 

“I was wondering when you would wake up,” turning your head, you gasped as you saw San standing against the door, “I know the transition to here isn’t the smoothest, but I was starting to worry I may have lost you.”

“Where am I?” you questioned, curling up as much as you could. San looked no different than when you first saw him, and yet his gaze made you feel tiny. 

“You’re home,” he explained as he made his way to the foot of the bed, “and this is your new bedroom. Do you like it? I can always redecorate for you if you want me to.” The warmth in his voice didn’t match his gaze which sent shivers down your body. You weren’t sure whether you wanted to fear him or find comfort in him. 

“I don’t understand,” you whispered, causing him to smile. 

“I know you’re still confused, don’t worry it will all make sense soon enough,” he promised, “for now I want to take this time to really get to know you before I claim you as mine.” You were frozen in place as you watched him remove his suit jacket, his wings practically vanishing to avoid getting in the way. He tossed the garment carelessly to the side, rolling up his sleeves and unbuttoning the first few buttons of his shirt before climbing onto the bed and making his way over to you. You gasped as the comforter was removed and you were pinned to the bed, San crawling on top of you and resting his weight on your hips to keep you from moving. Your arms were pulled above your head, San pinning them above you before snapping his fingers and leaning back. You felt a cold metal appear around your wrists and glanced up to see black chains connecting you to the bedpost, the metal jingling lightly as you tugged at the new restraint. 

“Can’t have you running away now can we?” San teased, “I really did want to take my time with you at first but you have no idea how long I have been waiting for this moment. I don’t plan on waiting any longer.” With that he leaned down and connected your lips in a rough but passionate kiss, biting at your lip as his hands eagerly explored your body. You were frozen in place at first, taken aback by the rough movements. You weren’t a virgin by any means, but most of your previous sexual experiences had been rather vanilla so this was a brand new experience for you. Eventually you were able to melt into him, slowly starting to kiss back and react which earned you a pleased hum from San. His hands trailed back up to the neckline of your nightgown and he quickly ripped the fabric from your body as his tongue slipped its way into your mouth. You gasped at the sudden chill that ran down your body, only to moan as you felt his hands return to your chest. 

“Look at you,” he groaned as he pulled away from the kiss, “such a pretty innocent thing in such a sinful position, I love it.” His fingers pinched at your nipples which had you arching your back and moaning softly. 

“San please,” you whined out, tugging weakly on your restraints. San gave you a questioning look and clicked his tongue, pinching your nipple harder to make you squirm. 

“What did you just call me?” he asked, before you could answer he reached up and grabbed your chin to make sure you were looking at him. “As much as I love to hear you beg for me, you are only allowed to address me as Sir, understood?” You nodded as best as you could with his grip on you which only made him huff, “Use your words brat.”

“Yes Sir,” you muttered out, making him smirk. 

“Good, now lay still and behave while I claim what’s mine!” He let go of your face and repositioned himself, gripping your thighs tightly and spreading them so he could fit between them. You knew you were going to have bruises later, but that didn’t matter right now as San began trailing kisses up your leg. He trailed kisses up the inside of your thigh before biting down, relishing in the way you gasped and squirmed against his touch. He sucked on the spot until he was sure a mark was formed before running his tongue across it and moving to the other thigh to give it the same treatment. He continued the action multiple times until your thighs were visibly covered in bite marks, each time relishing in the noise you made at the combination of pain and pleasure. You tried closing your legs but his grip tightened every time you moved to keep them open, forcing you to lay still until he was satisfied with his work. 

“You look so much prettier covered in my marks, maybe next time I’ll try spelling my name” he hummed, placing one last kiss on the inside of your thigh, dangerously close to your core but not quite where you needed him. The teasing made you whine which in turn caused him to chuckle. “Since you were so good for me, I’ll give you a little reward, tell Sir what you want,” he cooed, tracing his fingers across your hip.

“I want you to touch me,” you begged without hesitation, “please Sir I’ll continue to be good just please touch me!” 

“I know you will,” San muttered, reaching a hand down and running a finger teasingly between your folds, “already so wet and I’ve barely even touched you. I don’t know if you’ll be able to handle much more.” You were about to argue that you could when he slid a finger into you, wasting no time before moving at a moderate pace. Within seconds he had found that special spot inside of you, making you cry out as he rubbed against it every time he inserted his finger. “So sensitive and so tight,” San mused, inserting another finger, “I am going to absolutely ruin you.” Your moans grew louder as his pace quickened, making a scissoring motion with his fingers and adding a third to thoroughly stretch you out. You started bucking your hips and grinding against his hand as you felt your orgasm approaching, desperate for release. San noticed this, chuckling to himself as he pressed his free hand on your lower stomach to keep you from moving. The action also made you feel the pressure of his fingers more and pushed you over the edge before you could find the words to warn him. 

Sans pace never faltered as you rode out your orgasm, pushing you into overstimulation before quickly removing himself from you entirely. You whined at the sudden loss of contact, bucking your hips into the air as you tried to catch your breath and come down from your high. 

“I’m disappointed I thought you said you would behave,” San said flatly as he wiped his fingers off on his shirt. You watched as he crawled away from you and off of the bed and for a moment you were worried that he was going to leave you like that. Broken apologies fell from your mouth combined with pleas for him not to stop as you tugged painfully at the chains holding you down. San relished in your begging before quickly silencing you with a wave of his hand, “Because this is our first time I will be nice just this once, but I don’t want to hear any complaints if I continue, got it?” “Yes Sir I promise,” you reply almost immediately. You hear San mutter something under his breath briefly before you suddenly feel the chains around your wrists disappear. 

“Can’t have you hurting yourself,” he explained, undoing his pants and kicking them off before climbing back on top of you, “besides, you’ll probably want to hold on for this.” You do as he suggested and wrap your arms around his neck as you feel his tip at your entrance. “Keep your eyes on me,” he ordered, placing one hand by your head to hold himself up as the other helped guide his length into you. It was hard not to let your eyes roll back as you felt him stretch you, feeling fuller than you ever did with your past partners. San groaned softly as he bottomed out, letting his eyes flutter shut for a moment as he felt your walls squeeze around him. It took everything in his power not to just pin you down and rail you right then, but he didn’t want to hurt you. 

The second he felt you relax he started moving, gradually speeding up until he was thrusting into you at an inhuman speed. The arm that wasn’t supporting his weight moving to grab your hip and pull you against him with each thrust. By this point you had given up on keeping eye contact, wrapping your arms and legs around him as tightly as possible and burying your head in his shoulder to hide your sounds. San didn’t seem to care though, occupying himself with marking your neck as he continued his movements. You were still sensitive from your first orgasm, so it didn’t take long for the second one to wash over you, making you scream against his shoulder as he continued. San slowed down his pace enough to help you ride it out before picking up again to chase his own release. 

“Sir please!” you whined, grabbing desperately at his shirt while your other hand moved to grab at his horn. San groaned loudly at the action, hips faltering for a moment. 

“You can handle one more,” he grunted, “just hold on for me.” It didn’t take long for him to reach his orgasm, groaning loudly and pulling you against him as he released inside of you. The feeling pushed you into your third orgasm as you went limp in his hold, almost feeling like you were going to pass out. 

ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ

As if a switch had flipped inside of San, you felt him gently pull out of you and help you lay back before carefully rolling off of you. Before you could whine about the loss of contact he had rolled onto his back and pulled you into his chest, pulling the covers over both of you to keep you warm. He would clean you up and help you get dressed once he knew you had fallen asleep. For right now though he knew you were probably sensitive and he wanted to give you time to come down from your headspace before he risked moving you and making you uncomfortable. One hand began gently playing with your hair while the other traced down your body, occasionally stopping to massage a particularly sore spot. You allowed yourself to melt into his embrace, feeling his warmth and scent which almost reminded you of fall. You had almost fallen asleep when you heard him speak again. 

“I didn’t mean to actually go that rough,” he confessed, “I never want to hurt you. There’s just something about you though that awakens something in me. I knew it from the moment I laid my eyes on you, I needed to have you and I can’t let you go.” You couldn’t really process what he was saying, let alone a response, so instead you hummed contently against his chest. San couldn’t help but smile down at you, hugging you a bit tighter to him. “I know you probably can’t understand me and I know you may not like me very much tomorrow but I hope you will enjoy it here. I mean it when you say you are mine. The person I will marry and bond myself to, and the one I will spend eternity protecting.” By this point he was just rambling as you had fallen asleep, but he continued with all of his promises as if you would be able to hear and understand him. 

San had waited centuries for the right soul to find him the one that would finally complete him without being destroyed or corrupted, something that could truly tie him to the mortal realm. Spending every October being dragged around by people who were hoping for an eternal favor. He always gave them what they wanted, but normally they weren’t able to handle the consequences. It had become a chore for him at this point, at least until he was called to you. He could feel the connection in you immediately, calling for him. He would give you the ultimate gift, eternal life and youth, and all you had to give him in return was your love and loyalty.

Ateez taglist: N/A

Please see my pinned post to be added to the taglist.

[searchingwardrobes]

Hope is the Thing With Feathers: 3/4

@hollyethecurious and I started this fic as a gift to @kmomof4 for her birthday. Fittingly, it keeps getting longer because I swear Krystal is a muse disguised as a human being. Story banner created by Hollye as well.

Summary: Emma and her son Henry move to the tiny, quirky town of Hopeful, Maine for a fresh start. Emma isn’t expecting her son to get obsessed with a haunted castle or for her to get involved with the mysterious, handsome man who lives in the cabin behind it. Emma soon discovers that both the castle and the man have secrets that she could never have imagined. For @kmomof4 on her birthday.

Rating: M (yes, I upped the rating. This isn’t smut, but I definitely flirted with the line. All for you, Krystal!)

Words: 2,000 and some change in this chapter

Can also be read on Ao3

Trigger warnings: positive portrayal of past Millian

 Tagging: @artistic-writer @snowbellewells @whimsicallyenchantedrose @jennjenn615 @bethacaciakay @thislassishooked @teamhook @kday426 @snidgetsafan @delirious-latenight-laughs @winterbaby89 @let-it-raines @branlovestowrite @shireness-says (for some reason, I have no tag list for this, so I’m flying blind here! Hope I didn’t forget anyone!)

Chapter Three: And On the Strangest Sea

“Get off your ass. You’re taking me on a date.”

Emma Swan bursting through his front door with a demand upon her lips wasn’t how Killian foresaw his evening going. He set the beer he’d been nursing down on the coffee table next to his bowl of evening stew, Emma seemed to take that as Killian not taking her seriously judging by the scowl on her face and the way she fisted her hands on her hips.

“Did you not hear me, Jones?”

Killian lifted both hands in surrender. “I heard you, love, I’m just a bit taken aback by the delivery.”

She shuffled nervously, but the spark of anger remained in her eyes. “Well, I’m here to ask you out, okay. Like to dinner or something.”

Killian arched a brow. “Now?”

“Yes now!” she practically shouted. “So why are you still sitting there?”

He rose from the couch and approached her cautiously. He gave her a flirtatious grin as he fiddled with the ends of her hair. “A man likes to be wooed, love. Why the demand?”

Her brow wrinkled as she searched his face frantically. “Come on, Killian, let’s get out of here and go somewhere.”

“What’s happened, Swan? You were fine when you left here the other day.”

She worried her bottom lip. “Maybe I want to be sure it wasn’t just sex for you. Is it so wrong to ask that you take me out?”

He rubbed her arms up and down. “Of course, but give me time to plan the evening. You can come here tomorrow night, and I’ll serve you the best meal you’ve ever eaten.”

Emma shook her head vehemently, stepping quickly away from his embrace. “No, I want you to take me somewhere.”

He swallowed down the sudden fear that welled up inside and forced himself to smile charmingly. “Perhaps a picnic then, I know the perfect spot -”

“A restaurant,” Emma interrupted firmly, “maybe even a movie.”

He felt the color drain from his face. “I prefer a more intimate setting.”

She stubbornly crossed her arms over her chest. “We’ve done intimate. I want to go out.”

He let out an exasperated sigh and rubbed wearily at his forehead. “Emma, I just don’t like being around people.”

“Bull shit. You are many things, Killian Jones, but a recluse is not one of them. It doesn’t suit your personality.”

“Oh, really,” Killian snapped, stepping into her personal space, “you think you know me so well?”

“Actually, I don’t think I know you at all!”

She shouted the words so loudly, it startled them both into silence. He felt a knife twist in his gut as Emma’s face fell into a mask of hurt.

“Are you a ghost?” she whispered.

His eyes widened. “What I am . . . who I am . . . you wouldn’t believe me.”

“Try me.”

Killian collapsed onto the couch and rested his arms on his knees. He gestured to his dinner. “Ghosts don’t eat, Swan. Do they?”

She eyed him and then his stew as if she might run out the door any second. “No. I guess not.”

“I’m very much alive.” He winked at her in an attempt to lighten the mood. “Or did you not feel that the other day?”

She huffed out a wry laugh. “So why can’t you leave?”

“You’re quite perceptive, Swan. The best way to explain it is . . . I’m cursed.”

Emma blinked, but didn’t move. “That’s what Belle said, but I had a hard time believing it. You’re the pirate. The one who was Milah Gold’s lover.”

“Aye.”

Emma sank onto the couch, shaking her head in disbelief. “But . . . how? Why?”

Killian stood and paced to the window. “Gold cast the spell first, on Milah, after he learned of our dalliance. He knew it was the only way he could keep her. Milah and I truly loved one another, but she also craved freedom. She longed to travel and see the world.”

“No wonder she fell for a pirate.”

Killian turned to see Emma smiling at him. He nodded. “Gold assumed I would sail away and forget her. He didn’t know how deep our feelings ran.”

“But you couldn’t just give up the sea . . . or did you?”

Killian chuckled, rubbing at his jaw. “You sound like Milah. She wouldn’t hear of me giving up my ship.” He stepped closer to Emma and extended his hand. “Come, I’d like to show you something.”

Emma tilted her head skeptically, yet she took his hand anyway. He searched her eyes.

“You have nothing to fear from me, Emma,” he told her sincerely, squeezing her hand.

She nodded. “I trust you.”

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

Emma stood in awe, her hair blowing on the wind gusting up from the sea. The sound of waves breaking on the rocky Maine coast was as soothing as the warm sun beating down upon her face. It was like something out of a movie, this jagged cliff with a pristine view of the sea.

“This is one of the farthest boundaries of my curse,” Killian said softly at her side, “and Milah’s before me. She would watch for my ship from this very spot as often as she could, and I likewise would look up to this cliff as we approached Hopeful Harbor.”

His eyes were wistful as they gazed out at the gorgeous view.

“It’s so beautiful here,” Emma breathed out.

“Aye, the sea can be so calming,” he agreed. Then he gave her a wink. “Yet it can also turn volatile on a whim. Like a woman.”

Emma elbowed him, and he gave an exaggerated grunt. “So I take it you found reasons to come back to Hopeful often?”

“Naturally,” Killian agreed, settling down on the quilt he had laid out on the grass. “I wasn’t about to abandon the woman I loved. This was our meeting place.”

“Kind of exposed isn’t it?” Emma asked as she settled down beside him.

He arched a brow. “Makes it sort of thrilling, actually.” He inclined his head towards the tree line. “There was a spot over there in the forest as well, more secluded. We not only made up for lost time with moments of intimacy, we also racked our brains trying to figure out how to break her bloody curse.”

“Belle said you dabbled in magic you didn’t understand.”

He chuckled. “That was an understatement. And those books of her husbands she smuggled out of the manor? They were the very ones the Hopeful parson caught her with that fateful day when everything changed.”

Emma put her hand on his arm gently. “I’m so sorry.”

Killian took her hand, rubbing his fingers over her knuckles. “I don’t know exactly what went wrong. All I know is the curse was transferred to me. And ironically, by freeing Milah, I gave the mob the power to kill her.”

“That wasn’t your fault.”

Emma took his arm and looped it over her shoulder. He pulled her close against him, pressing his lips to the top of her head. She leaned into him, closing her eyes as she relished the scent of him that enveloped her.

“So you can’t die?” she whispered.

“No,” he sighed, her hair fluttering under his breath, “there was a dark time when I tried to end my miserable existence. To no avail.”

“What about Gold? That had to be some strange karma, his wife’s lover stuck on his property.”

Killian chuckled. “Aye, that was the one silver lining in it, actually. I got my revenge rather spectacularly.”

Emma pulled away, her eyes wide. Not that she was scandalized. In her opinion, Gold got what was coming to him. “What did you do?”

That cocky grin of his filled his face. “I may not be a ghost, Swan, but I do a rather good impression of one. I can haunt people with the best of them. Robert Gold did indeed fall to his death from his third floor balcony, but it wasn’t because he was consumed with grief.”

Emma grinned back. “You didn’t!”

Killian raised both hands in defense. “Hey, I didn’t say I pushed the man. Physically, anyway. But mentally? I don’t think he could take my . . . haunting him anymore.”

Emma laughed, shaking her head at his smug expression. Killian lay back on the quilt, crossing one arm under his head and reaching the other out to her. She gladly came to him, settling in the crook of his arm and resting her cheek on his chest.

“How did you . . . live?”

“In the beginning my first mate was my connection to the outside world. He became Captain of my ship, but continued to share a portion of all the spoil. He also brought me provisions. I didn’t spend all my coin, squirreling away as much as I could.”

He fell silent as he ran his fingers through her hair. Emma twisted so she could look up at him. His expression had gone wistful again.

“Then, after Smee,” he continued, “there were others like Belle, like your boy, who had a heart of belief. Each one was a tenuous link to the rest of the world out there.” His jaw clenched and his arm tightened at her waist.

“But eventually they all . . . “ she couldn’t finish the thought.

“Aye,” was all he said. Finally, he looked at her again and flashed her a light-hearted smile. “Then technology advanced by leaps and bounds. Radio, TV, cell phones, the internet. Especially the internet. As time marched on, I withdrew more and more to avoid suspicion.” He pressed a kiss to her temple. “Until now.”

Emma rolled over, perching her chin on his chest. “It sounds lonely.”

“It was,” he said softly, tracing her jawline with his fingertips, “and I certainly never thought I could love again after losing my Milah,” he swallowed nervously before continuing, “that is until I met you.”

His words made the breath leave Emma’s lungs. Since she didn’t know what to say, she slid forward and pressed her lips to his.

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

Killian had been right, there was something thrilling about making love out in the open in broad daylight. Though the sun was now dipping closer to the horizon, and the breeze was a cold gust. Killian had the quilt cocooned around their naked bodies. As she watched the sky turn yellow and red and felt Killian’s hand drawing circles on her back, she couldn’t think of being more content.

“We need to head back,” Killian told her softly, though he made no move to release her.

Emma didn’t move either, running her fingers instead lightly through his chest hair, their breaths rising and falling together. “This project with the manor . . . why is Belle so insistent on it? Won’t it make it harder for you to stay under the radar?”

Killian’s hand stilled on her back, and he cleared his throat nervously. “Belle has this crazy idea that she’s found a way to break my curse.”

“And how is that?”

“Um . . . you, actually.”

Emma sat abruptly, clutching the quilt to her chest. “What?”

Killian sat up too, and Emma tried not to be distracted by the fact that his muscular body was no longer covered.

“You see, the key ingredient in the spell I cast was the crushed wing of a cardinal. A symbol of freedom, or so I thought. And apparently, the other side of that coin is . . . a pure white Swan.”

Emma’s eyes narrowed. “So this is all about my name?”

Killian shrugged. “Belle thinks maybe it doesn’t have to be a literal Swan. Especially since she sensed a connection between us . . . “

Emma stood abruptly, reaching for her clothes discarded on the grass.

“Emma,” Killian said softly.

“So you what?” she snapped, her hands trembling as she slipped into her underwear. “You seduced me because of my last name? Thinking it might do the trick?”

He leapt up, heedless of his nudity, and reached out for her arm. “No, Emma, of course not. My feelings for you are real. I haven’t felt alive in a hundred years, and then your boy shows up -”

“Don’t bring Henry into this! Or are you interested in him too? Because he’s also a Swan?”

Emma shoved her feet into her boots, trembling all over. She blinked rapidly as she faced him, refusing to let him see her cry. “I trusted you!”

“And you were right to!”

She backed away, both hands up in warning. “I’m leaving, okay. Don’t follow me.”

As she turned away, he whispered, “As you wish.”

[thepirateandhisson]

CS Halloweek: as sweet as candy

as sweet as candy - @cshalloweek​ Day 1

Day 1 Prompts (October 25th):

Treats / orange

pumpkin spice | witch in the woods | “get off me” | fiery

SUMMARY: The last thing Emma expects when she opens the door is a mini-me.

Trick-or-treaters of the building have knocked on their apartment door throughout the day, a range of Spider-Man’s, Batman’s, princesses, and a minion or two have all come asking for candy. Her Spotify playlist for the day is on repeat for the fourth time and it always brings an extra bounce to the kid’s steps. But to open the door and see a little blonde girl, curly hair straightened and wearing a red leather jacket that’s so small it’s adorable, Emma isn’t sure how to react.

RATING: T for language

WORD COUNT: 5,604 words

TAGS: Captain Swan, Halloween, CS Halloweek 2021, Costumes, Kids, Fluff

AO3

AUTHOR’S NOTE: This was supposed to be a quick and short like drabble of a piece. And here we are. Also age wise, Alice is 6, Henry 11/12.

“Hey! Get off me, lady!” Greg Mendell yells. He struggles in her grip, throwing his elbow back and hitting her cheek. Emma stumbles in her heels but it isn’t enough to free him of her hold. She feels her blood boiling and his failed escape clearly has the same effect on her skip. “My father is a lawyer! I will sue you for everything you own, you f–”

Emma pushes him hard on the shoulder through the doors, one grip still on his cuffed hands behind his back. “Maybe he should give you legal advice on skipping your court date.”

She brings him to the front desk, her eyes scanning the bullpen to see if her brother is working. Instead, a head of curly blonde hair catches her eye and the look of awe on the young girl’s face captures her attention.

“Woah,” she sees the girl mouth, her tiny legs swinging on the office chair she sits upon.

She fells the girl’s eyes on her as she books the skip, and the moment Greg is firmly in police custody and she is ready to leave, the little girl comes bounding up to her.

“Are you an undercover cop?” she whispers so loudly that Emma is sure half the precinct heard.

“Uh, no,” Emma replies. Her lips quirk up as she shrugs her shoulders. “Sorry, kid.”

“Well, what are you?” the girl presses. Her eyes are wide in wonder, colored such a sharp blue that it takes Emma by surprise.

“I’m a bail bondsperson.” The little girl nods as if it all makes sense but Emma doubts she knows what a bondsperson is. “Are your parents nearby?” Emma asks. The girl’s face becomes pinched and her nose scrunches up before she nods her head.

“Yeah, my papa is in interrogation,” she says with a shrug, like being stuck in a police station is a normal routine.

Life experience taught Emma that it very well might be. She heard rumors of incidents happening to other foster kids, having been dragged to the station as a foster parent was arrested for one reason or another, waiting on the hard wooden benches for the social worker to pick them up. It happened to her once. Her foster father had been a creep and after one particular come-on that Emma escaped, she called up her social worker. She could see her foster father in the holding cell as she waited, the precinct of the small town too tiny and without any other seating to allow her privacy away from him.

He threw ugly words at her, threats that she wasn’t entirely sure were empty, and practically spit at her feet. The wait felt like years.

So Emma bends down in her dress and scans the girl’s face for any visible injuries, grateful to see none.

“I’m sure it can get pretty boring waiting. Are you doing okay?”

“I have my markers so it’s not too bad,” Alice answers. She has a dimple in one of her cheeks when she smiles wide and Emma fells her heart melt. It’s almost the same place as Henry’s.

“I’m Emma.”

“I’m –”

“Alice!” Emma stands abruptly and turns towards the voice, noticing a cop come rushing towards the lobby. He must be new, Emma thinks. Then her mind immediately catalogues how attractive he is. Strands of dark hair fall over his forehead before he pushes it back with his hand, a ring adorning his pointer finger. Scruff covers the sharp line of his jaw and winds around his mouth in a way that reminds Emma of those ridiculously good-looking Calvin Klein models on the posters in Time Squares.

She never swoons for a man in uniform – having her foster brother as a cop quickly deteriorated any fantasies she had in the past and nothing brought that line of thinking alive again. Until she sees the mystery man who looks like the uniform is made for him to be the wet dreams of every woman in a seven-mile radius. Seriously, he belongs on one of those raunchy novels at the grocery store checkout.

Damn it. He is gorgeous.

“Papa!” the girl’s voice calls from behind Emma and she watches as the blonde darts around her legs and jumps at the cop, his reaction time impeccable as he quickly bends down to grab her right as she leaps, swinging her up to rest on his hip.

Oh.

Her dad is a cop.

Emma lets out a sigh of relief.

“I thought I told you to stay at my desk and color until it was time to go, darling,” the man chastises, worry taking any heat out of his words. Damn. It. He has an accent too.

Alice wraps her arms around her father’s neck and leans in close to his ear. “But Papa, I needed to investigate,” she says in the same loud whisper as before.

“What did you need to investigate?” the man asks, mimicking his daughter’s tone with a smile at the little girl that Emma always dreamed of getting as a child.

“I needed to know if Emma was an undercover cop or not.” Her tiny hand curls into a fist, one finger pointing at Emma.

Alice’s father follows his daughter’s finger and he meets Emma’s eyes. It immediately becomes clear to her where Alice gets her blue eyes from, and Emma sucks in a breath at the image before her.

His blue eyes captivate her. They remind her of ocean water in the Caribbean and she is itching for a dip. He licks his lips and her eyes trace the movement subconsciously. She clears her throat to be rid of the indecent thoughts ready to be vocalized while he shakes his head.

The man shifts Alice to settle better on his side and reaches one hand out towards her.

“Killian Jones,” he says. Emma admires the way his tongue works over every letter of his name as she clasps her hand in his.

“Emma Swan.”

Before they can get much further, David comes bounding into the lobby, grinning wide. He spots their hands, still mid shake, and grins at them both.

“Killian, Alice!” he greets as he comes to stand at Emma’s side. They’ve dropped their hands, a hasty effort to right themselves as though they were doing anything wrong. “This is my sister, Emma.”

*

David tells her that when Killian had moved and was relocated to his unit, he suggested Emma’s building to him. Which really shouldn’t surprise her as David was anal when it came to finding her a new apartment once he got engaged to Mary Margaret. He ran crime reports of the area, searched out who did the usual patrols, looked up any reports made at each building she looked at, and printed it all out in a mess of a pile that left her overwhelmed. Mary Margaret had been kind enough to organize everything and put it in a binder. Helpful, but still overwhelming.

Apparently Killian and Alice moved in a month ago. She learns one day, her and Killian greeting each other on the landing outside their apartments because of course the gorgeous new cop who works with her brother lives across the hall, that it’s just the two of them. Alice’s mother is a situation he’d rather not revisit and she gets it. For the first few years of Henry’s life, it had been the same thing with Neal. Though Killian makes it known that Alice’s mother will never have a place in her life, for the good of Alice.

She sees the two of them more frequently after that, though Killian a great deal more than Alice. He seems to be at the station most times when she stops by with a skip or to bring her brother out for lunch. There’s a kindness, a polite distance, in their interactions but she can read the hunger in his eyes as well as her own. It lays dormant just under the surface and crackles to life when they get a rare moment alone. Neither of them moves on it though.

The first time Henry meets Killian, he sees the man outside his door searching through his wallet for a spare key.

“Are you supposed to be here?” Henry asks. Neal dropped him off downstairs after a weekend at his place and his backpack, filled with clothes and his Nintendo Switch, weighs heavy against his back.

“Uh, hello, lad,” Killian says, turning to face Henry with red on his cheeks and his finger coming up to rub behind his ear. “Aye. This is my dwelling, but unfortunately I seem to have locked myself out and misplaced my key…”

Henry looks him up and down, tells him to wait a moment, and keeps one eye on him as he unlocks his own door. He slams it shut quickly behind him and calls out to Emma.

“Mom!” He doesn’t see her immediately. Red leather jacket strewn atop the couch and boots flung by the small kitchen island, he figures his mom is probably in her room. He drops his duffle by the door and grabs the orange juice container from the fridge. “There’s a strange man loitering by the door!”

“What?!” Emma yells as she emerges from her room. She half-heartedly glares at her son drinking straight from the carton and quickly ties her wet hair up at the back of her neck. “What do you mean there’s a strange man by the door?”

Henry shrugs. “I’ve never seen him before and he’s just hanging out in the hallway.” He leans closer, and whispers like they’re discussing the secret identity of a James Bond villain, “He’s got an accent.”

One beat passes then two before Emma realizes that Henry is speaking about Killian. She sighs and shakes her head. “That’s our new neighbor.” Almost to the door, Emma turns to Henry. “Use a glass, kid.”

The contents of Killian’s wallet are strewn across the hallway floor, the man himself bent down by it as he shakes his wallet.

The scene is so perplexing. Every interaction with Killian since their initial greeting has brought her to the conclusion that the man is incapable of being anything but completely put together and suave. He offers a flirty comment occasionally, incredibly smooth with his delivery and lifting an eyebrow that can be construed as a challenge, and is considered the neatest and best organized officer in the precinct. That last bit is something she has to agree with. After dealing with David’s scrawl and Will’s illegible notes for far too long, it’s been refreshing to not have to work to understand what’s written on her paperwork. So she asks, “Is everything okay out here?”

Never before has she had the pleasure of seeing such a debonair man become so flustered. He licks his lips as he looks up at her from where he’s bent and Emma takes glee at watching the tips of his ears turn a bright pink.

“I’m not sure how much your lad has explained but it appears that I’m locked out of my apartment.”

And that’s how Emma shows off her lockpicking skills. A particular skillset that has always made her nervous or less than because of the necessity it came from, but Killian looks at her in wonder like she has magic in a land without it.

“Bloody brilliant,” he says with a grin. Her own cheeks heat this time and Killian’s soft smile hints at a smirk but he tapers it down. He turns the knob on his door and opens the apartment. It’s quiet, lights off, and she remembers Alice vaguely telling her earlier in the week about her very first sleepover and assumes Killian is getting his daughter later. “I owe you a glass of rum.”

“Raincheck on the rum?” she asks. “I’ve an eleven-year-old that probably lived off of pop tarts and cosmic brownies all weekend. I need to get some protein in him.”

Killian’s grin remains but his gaze is calculating. “Are you sure you’re not regaling me with your eating habits, Swan?” She rolls her eyes, lest he realize how true his statement is. “Let me know when I can pay up.”

It takes her another three weeks before she calls in that owed glass of rum. Henry swears that Killian was a pirate in a past life – because apparently only pirates utter ‘Aye’ – and she just needs to share that with someone and who better than the man in question. He takes the assessment with a hearty laugh and a grin that promises mischief. “I do love to pillage and plunder,” he says. Amusement laces his tone but Emma sees the hunger in his eyes that’s never dimmed.

Somehow, it starts a tradition.

Alice is adapting well to her new life in the city, making friends at the various summer camps and activities she’s been signed up for. The girl is excited about everything she sees and wants to try it all out at least once. Who is Killian to deny her that? That’s what he tells her, at least, and as she learns their similar pasts – no parents, time in the foster system, brothers who tried to offer them everything they had – she gets it.

For children with nothing, they want to give their kids everything.

It’s also why she agrees to let Henry go to a sleepaway camp for the first time ever. The brochure prided the eight-week writing workshop for preteens as being the best in the nation, with some notable young adult authors leading a few classes over the summer. Henry’s face lit up as he showed it to her and his words were coming a mile a minute. So she signed him up, no matter how much she’d miss him over the summer. Anything to make her kid happy.

On the nights when Emma was lonely without Henry and Killian had dropped Alice off at another sleepover, they shared a glass of rum. It’s easily the most effortless friendship Emma’s ever had in her life. There are no expectations of each other, from divulging secrets to keeping up conversation. She never knew she could feel such a comfortable peace just sitting quietly next to someone.

It’s not that they don’t want to talk to each other but more that they’re afraid. Silence is safe. Silence is guarded. Only after a particularly frustrating skip that seemed to call out all her insecurities did Emma babble into her glass of rum, her life story spilling out and she was no use to stop it.

Killian shares in kind. The lies Alice’s mother told him, the way she dropped the baby on his doorstep without a word. She’s almost not sure whose ex was worse but Killian reminds her it’s not a competition and at least they are free of the pain, and her anger settles somewhat.

When Henry returns at the end of August – practically a man because he spent his twelfth birthday away with friends and he’s suddenly become independent – and Alice’s sleepovers come to a slow as the school year starts, Emma and Killian find themselves struggling for a new routine.

What results is a weekly dinner together on Thursday nights. Once she made the mistake of telling Mary Margaret she couldn’t go to the movies because it’d cut into Family Dinner Night. The woman asked, saying David didn’t tell her they had plans and then Emma, red faced and wishing to be anywhere else, had to explain she just meant dinner with her neighbor and his daughter. She never heard the end of that.

Family Dinner Night.

She hates the way that rings in her head long after it slipped to Mary Margaret. It’s not like they’re actually a family. It’s just friends and their kids getting together once a week. They get tidbits of each other’s lives and their kids bond over school and Henry takes Alice under his wing without a second thought. She could get used to it.

And that’s what scares her. Because it’s easy to fall into that illusion that they’re one big happy family but they aren’t together and it’s just one night a week and even if she’s come to care for Alice and her father and they’ve done the same for her and Henry, she should keep her distance. They were too afraid of their own feelings beforehand but now that their kids have become close? A relationship was a no-go.

So they steal glances over dinner and brush hands as they pass the salad bowl and leave the hunger simmering beneath the surface never allowed to boil over.

*

A week before Halloween, Emma spots Greg Mendell in the grocery store. Killian lamented to her about being unable to find Alice’s seasonal favorite – pumpkin spice hot chocolate – and on her weekly run, she meanders down the aisle with her eyes on the lookout for the box.

Instead she sees the guy who continually skips his court dates and she groans.

Greg got out a day after Emma dropped him off, a new court date scheduled and someone else paying his bond this time, and then disappeared off the face of the planet. When he popped back up in the city, his file went to one of the senior bondspeople in her firm after being hired by the fiancée who footed the bill, trying to figure out new tactics since the man refuses to do the one thing required of him and show up at court. Emma was glad it wasn’t given to her. Honey traps were easy when they didn’t know who she was but if she had to deal with Greg again, it’d mean dropping Henry off at Neal’s so she could spend a night in the bug staking out Greg’s old haunts and hoping he showed up.

But here he was. Down the grocery aisle from her. And holding the last box of pumpkin spice hot chocolate.

She sucks in a deep breath, moves her grocery cart to the side, and then shakes out her arms. Her footsteps are steady and quiet as she approaches and it’s when she’s almost to him that he looks up and spots her. “Crap.”

One word and then he took off, hot chocolate box in one hand and grocery basket in the other. He maneuvered his way through the aisles, around the shopping carts of other customers, and through to the produce area. Emma is hot on his heels when he tosses the basket at her and she throws her arms up to protect her face. It bounces off of her forearms, the edge slipping through a small space to scratch above her eyebrow, and then she’s off again. She ducks the apples he picks up and throws at her and she even manages to catch one and toss it back, nailing him in the back of the head.

His stumble is enough for Emma to catch up and she tackles him to the ground just next to the cantaloupes. The pumpkin spice hot chocolate box is crumpled in his hand as she pulls his arms back to cuff him and she nearly growls. She chooses to focus on the bright side and the fact that now it can be hers. Whipping the box out of his hands, a pitiful moan falling from his lips, is almost as great as cuffing him.

*

The cut above her head is still bleeding by the time she gets home, slow drips of blood from under the band-aid sliding down her forehead, and a crinkled bag of take-out in her arms is all she has as proof of her efforts to grocery shop. The manager, at least, had given her the hot chocolate free of charge for stopping Greg’s assault.

Footsteps on the stairs behind her are Emma’s only warning before Alice comes bounding into the hallway.

“Emma!” she yells. She lurches forward to wrap her arms around her thighs and Emma grins.

“Hey, kid.”

Alice looks up and her mouth drops open. Emma furrows her brows in confusion only to wince. Right. The cut.

“Woah. What’s that from? Are you okay?” the little girl asks in wonder. Her arms still tightly encase Emma’s legs and it reminds her of when Henry did the same thing at her age.

“Bad guy. Don’t worry, I got him in the end.”

“Cool,” Alice grins. Emma nearly gasps in surprise at the sudden gap in the girl’s teeth.  “Oh! Neat, isn’t it?” Her tongue pokes out of the gap where a front tooth once was and her grin widens. “Popped it out during school.”

“You did, did you?” Emma asks. She shifts the items in her hand to reach down and gently grasp Alice’s chin, inspecting the gap. After a moment, she grins at the girl. “That looks awesome.”

“There was blood everywhere!” Alice exclaims. She steps away from Emma and holds up the tooth in her hand. “It was all over my hand. I showed Billy Thompson my tooth and he started crying! It was great!”

“Starfish,” a voice calls from the stairs. Killian appears, his uniform in pristine condition as always, and an embarrassed look crosses his features. “What did I say about exaggerations?”

Alice pouts and Emma laughs softly, standing up and leaning against her door. “You got a monopoly on stretching the truth of your adventures?” she asks. Killian sends a smirk in her direction.

“I assure you, Swan, that tales of my exploits are most definitely not exaggerated.”

Emma’s nearly certain her gulp is loud enough for all of them to hear. Thankfully, Henry pokes his head out in search of food, sending a greeting to Killian and snagging their takeout before Alice bounds into Emma’s apartment, repeating her tale of her first lost tooth to her kid.

“You alright?” Killian nods his head towards the cut on her forehead and Emma reaches up to touch it, blood still wet.

“I’ll be fine. It’s superficial.”

“What happened?” Emma gestures him to follow her into her apartment. The pumpkin her and Henry carved the night before rests on the table next to the door. Their cutouts are sloppy and there’s still some pumpkin guts inside but Henry wanted to do the carving himself this year and even if his hand is mightier with a pen than a carving knife, she wanted to show everyone her son’s skills.

“Greg Mendell,” she answers quick before spotting Henry sneaking Alice some candy. “Hey! Nice try kid but put those back! They’re for trick-or-treaters.”

“Did the git skip again?”

“Yep,” she says. “This time on his fiancée.”

“Bloody hell.” She hums in agreement. Between the suspects he brings in and the guys that skips on the bail she put up, they see a rather unsavory lot of people.

“At least I got this.” She offers up the crushed box of pumpkin spice hot chocolate and he grins in delight.

“You’re a marvel, Swan.” Their eyes connect and don’t stray for a few moments until a drop of blood hits her eyebrow. His eyes linger on the cut and his eyebrows pull together in concern. “Who took care of that?”

“Scarlet.”

A deep sigh leaves his throat and as his breath brushes her nose, she realizes how close they are. From the corner of her eye, she can see that Henry and Alice are paying no mind, raised voicing indicating their shared excitement of their Halloween costumes. “Another git if you ask me. Scarlet apparently failed his first aid training three times before he passed. Never let him patch you up, love. Come.”

He ushers her to her bathroom like its his. Ruffling through the cabinets come with an ease and familiarity that makes her breath catch in her throat. He moves without a thought and Emma never had someone in her space before that could do that. When did this happen?

She licks her lips when Killian cups her jaw, turning her head to the side. It’s a stark contrast to the way she cradled Alice’s earlier. Where her touch was maternal, his has no name. There’s a gentleness in his fingertips and a care for the way he handles her, the brush of his hand soft and calming. He peels away the wet band-aid and Emma barely notices. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows and Emma is left wondering if their close proximity is affecting him the way it is her.

“What the hell is that?!” she hisses. Her attempts to pull her head away yield no result as Killian keeps a tight hold on her chin, thumb rubbing against her dimple.

“Antiseptic.” His face is set in concentration. His lips pull in a frown as he wipes the edges of her cut. A mere few inches separate her mouth from Killian’s and the thought makes her chest tingle in a way she feels like she’s got a buildup of static electricity. She quickly focuses her gaze on the ghost decoration Henry put on the towel rack. Her thoughts are less dangerous that way. “Thanks for the confirmation that Scarlet’s an idiot and even forgot to do that.”

“I got it. Scarlet can’t be trusted for anything but cannon fodder.”

His answering grin is nearly blinding as he pauses in his task and meets her eyes. “Atta girl, Swan.” They maintain contact for a moment before he adds a bit more antiseptic and she hisses again.

“Can you use anything that doesn’t sting?!”

“There’s always rum.”

“I think that’d make it worse.”

“And it’d be a bloody waste of it, too.”

Killian steps back and grabs the band-aids from the bathroom cabinet next. It’s a box of animal designs she got while on sale and the man before her spends too much time searching through it before finally pulling one out.

She doesn’t question it. Killian is notoriously anal about some things and he probably deemed half the box to be full of bandages too small.

At least she doesn’t question it until she comes back to the kitchen and Henry laughs so hard that some of the rice from his Chinese food flies out of his nose.

“What?” she asks. She begins fixing a plate for herself and for Killian who insisted on cleaning up in the bathroom.

“Nice band-aid,” is all Henry responds with. She shoots him a look. Alice’s giggles have her questioning what is so funny. A quick check at her phone camera, Killian emerging from the bathroom with a shit-eating grin on his face that should irritate her instead of fluster her appearing in the background, and she has her answer.

He gave her a swan band-aid.

*

Knock, knock.

The last thing Emma expects when she opens the door is a mini-me.

Trick-or-treaters of the building have knocked on their apartment door throughout the day, a range of Spider-Man’s, Batman’s, princesses, and a minion or two have all come asking for candy. Her Spotify playlist for the day is on repeat for the fourth time and it always brings an extra bounce to the kid’s steps. But to open the door and see a little blonde girl, curly hair straightened and wearing a red leather jacket that’s so small it’s adorable, Emma isn’t sure how to react.

“Hi Emma!” the sweet voice calls to her. Her smile in return is automatic.

“Hi, Alice,” Emma says. Her hand darts for the candy bowl Henry helped her put together before heading to Neal’s and she offers it to the girl who takes a piece. “You look awfully familiar.”

“Can you guess who I am?” A gap-toothed smile greets her eyes and Emma feels her heart warm. Every day since losing her tooth, Alice has come running to knock on her door after school and give an update on how her big girl tooth is coming in. There’s a little nub of white along the gumline and Alice shows it off constantly.

Emma inspects Alice’s outfit, adding a little bit of dramatics as she slowly walks around the giggling girl. She pushes her own wishful thinking aside and guesses. “Hannah Montana?”

“Noooo, silly! I’m you!”

It’s one thing to suspect it but another to confirm.

Crying is not something Emma does on a regular basis. Probably because of her emotionally stunted childhood. But she can probably count the number of occasions she’s cried on, most of them involving Henry. Her kid wrote a whole essay about how she was his hero and she cried for a week when she went to bed. Never did she think she could have something – someone – so great in her life.

(She also copied, laminated, and framed the essay to display in their living room and at work.)

But she feels the tears burning at the back of her eyes and she bends down to Alice’s level with a grin. “Are we sure it’s not Christmas? Because this feels like the best gift ever.”

Her breath leaves her lungs in a quick moment as Alice tosses her body against Emma’s to wrap her arms around her neck, pumpkin basket thumping against her back. Alice’s apartment door opens and she hears leather rubbing against leather.

“I take it you have no tricks, only treats?”

Emma turns her chin on Alice’s shoulder to look at Killian and her mouth dries. He stands in his doorway, legs clad in leather so tight she wonders how he got it on, shirt unbuttoned to nearly his stomach with chest hair on display for the world to see, and a heavy leather duster settling against his body. A fake plastic hook is latched onto the pocket of his leather pants and eyeliner frames his eyes in a way that make the blue seem brighter. “Happy Halloween, Swan.”

“Papa!” Alice exclaims, letting go of Emma to jump at Killian. He picks her up with the same soft smile he saves just for his daughter and if Emma wasn’t already on the ground, she probably would have swooned. Standing up, her hands brush the imaginary dust off of her legs and putting the candy bowl on the doorway table, she forces her attention on Alice.

“How about you go inside and pick a couple more candies? You can leave them at your apartment to save room for all the other treats you’ll get.”

“Thanks, Emma!”

In a blur of red, Alice wiggles her way out of her father’s arms and into Emma’s apartment. Killian stands there with all the bravado of Captain Hook left out in the middle of the sea as he scratches behind his ear.

“I hope you don’t mind,” he says, gesturing to where Alice kneels on a kitchen chair and is digging through the candy bowl. His cheeks don’t turn brighter but the tips of his ears do, to her great delight. “She was going to be Tinkerbell up until she saw you after the Greg Mendell incident a week ago. There was no changing her mind after that. She’s been quite taken with your profession since she met you.”

Perhaps it’s Nina Simone’s intoxicating voice emanating from her apartment singing about putting a spell on someone or it’s the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he grins at her. Perhaps it’s been the hunger clawing under the surface for months. But Emma takes a breath and takes a step.

“And her father?” Her voice is more breathless than she anticipated, quiet in the hall and meant only for them. Killian pushes off of the doorframe and moves that last step between them.

“I’d venture to say he’s been quite taken with you.” His eyes glance over her shoulder to check on Alice before focusing on her again. “This might be hard to believe but I think even more so than his daughter.”

She grins, huffing out a laugh, cups his cheek, and leans up to press a kiss to his lips. His hands are quick to grab her waist and pull her against him. The plastic hook digs into her hip and she can feel the cool metal of the extra rings he wears against the small of her back but she pays no mind, not when his mouth is moving over hers with such delicious intent and passion.

It’s as her fingers are threading through his hair and his is doing the same to her long locks that Alice makes her presence known to them.

“Does this mean you’ll finally let me put a fake cut on my head like Emma had last week?”

“Absolutely not.” Killian pulls away laughing and lifts Alice up. She knows the feeling. The one where you’re not sure whether the next time you pick up your kid will be the last because they’re too grown to want it anymore. It’s hard letting your kid grow up and be independent of you.

He turns to Emma, lips swollen and hair mussed, but his eyes alight with a sparkle and a fire she hadn’t seen before. Her own turn up in response. He winks – a terrible excuse for the action as he can barely keep one eye open doing it – and turns back to his daughter.

It’s hard, but at least they’re not alone.

The air is light and Emma can’t wait for Henry to return in a few hours so they can share stories about their holiday. Things might be looking a little different for them when Christmas comes around and the thought is as sweet as the treats in her candy bowl.

[sotangledupinit]

CS Halloweek: just a bunch of hocus pocus

just a bunch of hocus pocus — @cshalloweek Day 7

Day 7 Prompts (October 31st — Halloween)

Spirit / white

haunted house | betrayal | “tell me again” | wicked

SUMMARY: When Emma Swan moved to the small town of Storybrooke with her son, she expected to deal with petty crimes and lowly thieves as their new sheriff. She didn’t expect to accidentally raise the Mills Witches from the dead for them wreak havoc on the town Halloween night. At least her son seems to have learned a thing or two to defeat them. But there’s also the fact the attractive sailor who docks at their shores every fall is actually 300-years-old and has been trying to prevent the witches from rising again. Oops.

Also, did she mention that her son’s new cat can talk?!

[sailtoafarawayland]

Best Left Buried

(A CS Halloweek AU)

SUMMARY:  It's a strange place, Storybrooke – empty streets and picturesque Victorians that loom a little differently than the shadows they cast. Like most things in this town, you can't be sure they're being entirely honest about who they are. Curtains flicker in the windows as you pass, and gates swing on rusty hinges even after the wind is long gone. There's one too many black cats to be entirely natural, and there's something unsettling about the dolls that sit in the pawn broker's window. Like most old, New England towns, Storybrooke has a bit of a checkered history – except the truth is that Storybrooke isn't actually very old at all, and its history is a bit more black than checkered.

RATING: T 

Happy @cshalloweek, everyone! The prompt that struck me was: Monsters / red - under a spell | mystery | "I'm not going anywhere" | bloodcurdling

This takes place in an AU Storybrooke with Halloween and supernatural vibes. I hope you all enjoy my take!

AO3 - FF

Best Left Buried

I'm new to storytelling, so you'll have to forgive me if I don't follow the rules. I don't want to start at the beginning, or the end. One would think that leaves the middle, but...how about we begin at 'on the way to the end'?

And every story needs a little mystery, don't you think? The stranger on a lonely night, the bloodcurdling scream that no one hears? Like most Halloween tales, we'll need to start with some dark and gloomy, and a woman all by herself on the side of the road.

Well, maybe she isn't so alone after all...

/

“Everything alright here, Sheriff?” a slow, cautious voice called, cutting through the hazy beam of light that glared from the SUV parked twenty feet or so behind her.

Gravel crunched beneath heavy boots, moving closer.  

Arms stretched and gripping the raised trunk of her cruiser, Emma stared down at the person tied up and bent within, knees tucked against the bumper and eyes glaring up at her, narrowed and angry above the length of black cloth cutting into the corners of his mouth.

Well, fuck – old fashioned worked just fine up until the moment a state trooper wanted to intrude on her evening plans.

Before the man could make a sound, Emma twisted her wrist.

His eyes went wide, panic winning out over anger as he discovered his voice no longer worked the way it should, and that no matter how hard he tried to scream, there was nothing to hear.

No matter how desperately he tried to kick the bumper to alert the person approaching them, his body just wouldn't obey.

Arching a brow as if to say, 'did you think I was just gonna let you call for help?', Emma smiled and simply tossed the shovel resting against the bumper over top of him, the thunk of it hitting the back of the trunk resounding in the quiet night.

“Yup,” she called back, letting the 'p' pop from her lips as she slammed home the latch of the trunk, leaving her cargo in complete darkness. “Just clearing up some roadkill. Must be an easy night if you're up this way – Portland run out of Halloween mischief?”

The trooper shook his head, stepping into her space as she turned away from the trunk and leaned casually against it, brushing her gloved hands together as if to rid them of dirt.

“I wish,” the man muttered, adjusting the volume on his radio as it roared with static. “Man, these things never work in this town of yours – must be a lousy signal. Don't know how you guys manage.”

“Small town,” Emma shrugged, “not much trouble to manage. What brings you up so late?”

“We actually got a call in for a missing person, thought I'd head up your way and see if you'd laid eyes on him.”

Emma leaned forward to study the trooper's phone as he held it between them, the screen illuminating her furrowed brow and lips pressed into a concerned line.

“Doesn't look familiar, but I can ask around if anyone's seen him. He dangerous?”

“Nah, don't think so – might be off his meds though – anxiety, apparently. His fiance called in and said he ran out of their hotel room a few days ago during a fight over which direction they should head, inland or up the coast. She mentioned he'd wanted to head this way.”

“I swear, the foliage brings out nothing but crazies,” Emma groaned, rolling her eyes. “Well, I'll keep my eyes open, let you know if we see anything. It's been nothing but TP'ed houses and ding dong ditch the past week.”

“Technology may change, but the classics never get old,” the trooper laughed. “Speaking of, the wife was asking after the recipe for that lasagna you dropped off at the station a few weeks ago. Any chance you could – ”

“I wish I could help you out,” Emma cut in, raising her hands in supplication, “really, I do, but Granny would have my head if I even asked, or worse – she'd stop serving me.”

“Ah, well, I suppose some secrets are best left buried,” the trooper chuckled, flashing her an understanding smile. “Besides, I'd hate to run across you without your caffeine on board.”

“Right on both counts, Dietz,” Emma grinned. “Tell Charlene that Killian and I said hello, and keep safe.”

The trooper waved a gloved hand in farewell before climbing back into his SUV and pulling a u-turn. Emma slid into the driver seat of her own car, watching in the mirror as his lights were swallowed up by the darkness that would lead him safely out of Storybrooke.

//

Have I captured your attention? It's so good to finally have someone listening. How about we jump back to the beginning now, and I'll tell you a story about a quaint New England town called Storybrooke?

It's a strange place, Storybrooke – empty streets and picturesque Victorians that loom a little differently than the shadows they cast. Like most things in this town, you can't be sure they're being entirely honest about who they are. Curtains flicker in the windows as you pass, and gates swing on rusty hinges even after the wind is long gone.

There's one too many black cats to be entirely natural, and there's something unsettling about the dolls that sit in the pawn broker's window. Like most old, New England towns, Storybrooke has a bit of a checkered history – except the truth is that Storybrooke isn't actually very old at all, and its history is a bit more black than checkered.

Or perhaps I should say red.  

If you're just another tourist passing through in October, blinded by the leaves and farm stands filled to brimming with pumpkins and hot cider, then you might not notice that something about this town isn't as it seems. That's what everyone here hopes for, that you'll spend a few bucks on some food and plastic souvenirs and move on up the coast to the next small town with a good story.

But the locals lose their easy smiles when someone looks too closely beyond Main Street, asking questions about things that are best left buried.

They don't want you to ask questions about the occurrences and complaints, the accusations and stories that have found their way to the darker corners of the internet. They frown when curious couch detectives hold up printed photos of people long gone – or should I say 'missing' – directing them instead to a rack of shirts emblazoned with the words 'I survived Dead Man's Peak'. Have you heard the legend of the centuries old ship's Captain whose spirit roams the cliffs? People go up there all the time to take photos...can't be too careful around those steep drops, they say, nothing but cold sea below...

It has an odd reputation, Storybrooke, for missing people and gruesome deaths, most of them ruled accidental – falls from great heights, victims of drowning – but the town makes its living on the backs of all those old legends, witches and vampires and ghosts, so they sell their shirts and coffee mugs, and look the other way when morbid curiosity seekers and ghost hunters make the long drive from their dark apartments and flickering screens all the way to their small town in Maine.

Most of the time.

As long as you don't look too closely and become someone they don't care for.

Because those people...I can promise it's not long before their social media goes quiet. Their camper van disappears unseen from Main Street one night – and just like that, it's as if they had never driven to that quiet town at all. The friendly old lady who runs the diner never saw them, never served them coffee and tucked a mint under their pillow. The sweet librarian never made suggestions on what they might like to check out for their stay. The harbormaster never leased them a boat to take a tour around the bay, and the kindly shrink who walks his dog three times daily  never once saw them sipping coffee on the park bench.

It's not until too late that you can see them for who they really are.

How the friendly old woman who owns the diner pulls raw meat from the fridge after closing, arthritic fingers digging deep into the mass of red flesh and drawing it closer to her mouth, her eyes flickering shut with pleasure as she tears hunks of it free and swallows them down. How the sweet librarian locks up at the end of the day and returns to the back room of the Pawn Shop, the knowledge she's gleaned during her studies made useful as she seeks to return her lost love to the world of the living. How the harbormaster grins wickedly in the dark of a warehouse, teeth sharper than humanly possible as his eyes hone in on the soft, pulsing flesh of a young woman's neck. How the shrink sits beside an unsuspecting stranger on the park bench, drawing their sadness and woes from them and feasting, leaving those he speaks to holding darker and more open wounds than only moments before.

You won't see it until it no longer matters, until they have no intention of allowing you to flee to the next town with a story to tell.

But I promise you, none of them have a story quite like Storybrooke. I should know, I was there when it began.  

And now...well, I'm not going anywhere.

//

“So, this is the evidence I needed to see?” Emma grimaced, toeing the bit of faded, rotten canvas poking from the dirt, the orange tarpaulin long separated from the bit of metal that was once a frame.

“This is where it all started,” the man insisted, walking frantically between the trees and gesturing widely to the overgrown clearing. “This was where we'd set up camp, and here, right here – ” He knelt and swiped his hand through a layer of wet leaves, exposing what looked to be an old circle of stones. “This was where we roasted marshmallows.”

“It look's like an old campsite,” Emma agreed, eyes darting to the sun that was only just setting low over the forest, “but there must be hundreds of these abandoned all along the Maine coast. I don't see how it's – ”

“I found this,” the man rushed, desperate to make her see reason. He yanked a mildewed piece of fabric from the ground nearby, waving it between them. “It was my dad's. His name is on the tag. This is the spot, right here, where it all started.”

“Alright, look, Mr. Mendell – ”

“Greg. My name's Greg.”

“Greg, can you just slow down and explain this to me again – one more time, from the beginning, please?”

“Thirty years ago, my father and I were camping in the wilderness. Then out of nowhere, there was a rush of something in the air, and an entire town appeared right beside us.”

“Out of nowhere?” Emma deadpanned, whipping out her flashlight and shining it over the rapidly darkening forest. “Towns don't just fall from the sky, Mr. Mendell.”

“It was like magic, and when we tried to leave the town, she kept my father here – the Mayor. When I tried to get help and get back to him, it was gone – the entire town. Like it was under some sort of magic spell.”

“You're saying magic a lot.”

“I know I sound crazy,” he stammered, running his hands over his close cropped hair as he paced back and forth.

“Yeah, just a little,” Emma snorted, passing the beam of light over his face and watching as his eyes squeezed shut.

“But I'm not. I tried to move on, start a new life, but I couldn't, not until I figured it out – and now I have. It's this town, it has secrets,” he hissed, his hands tightening into fists at his side.

“Okay, sir. I think it's best we get you back to town and maybe give someone a call – do you have any family I can reach out to?”

“I don't need you to call anyone,” he blurted out, eyes wide and panicked as he took a step away from her toward the shadowed trees. “I need you to help me find out what happened to my father – everyone in this town, they're in on it. The Mayor, she looks exactly the same as she did back then. The woman who runs the diner and her granddaughter...they're all the same!”

“Sir, I'm gonna need you to just calm down,” Emma sighed.

“Do you have any idea how many people have gone missing in this town? My father may have been the first, but he wasn't the last. As soon as anyone starts asking too many questions – poof, gone!”

Reaching up, Emma rubbed at her brow with an exhausted huff as she approached the man while he continued to rant.

“There were those two women – the DeVille woman and her friend. They took vacations from work to visit and never came back. That blogger – the one who posted a photo of some strange, purple cloud that went viral. His partner came to meet up with him after he got a concerning text and never found him, then – strangely enough – his partner disappeared as well.”

“So you're telling me that this town somehow magically appeared here out of thin air,” Emma scoffed, “and that we're murdering people to keep it secret.”

“I looked into you – you only moved here recently, so you're safe. You have to do something about it, Sheriff.”

“Here's the thing,” Emma sighed, shrugging lopsidedly. “You're right.”

“What?” the man rasped, some instinct that rises in humans when danger is sensed making his face grow paler with each second that passed between them.

“You're right about the town, about magic, and this – ” she toed the rotted tent again, grimacing. “This was an oversight of Regina's. Why am I always cleaning up her messes...”

“You're in on it,” he mumbled, staggering backwards and as far from Emma as possible, nearly falling beneath the canopy of the trees.  

“Quite perceptive, this one,” hummed a disembodied voice from behind him.

Greg spun wildly on his feet, trying to pin down exactly where the voice had come from, his movements eliciting a chuckle from the shadows. With his back turned to Emma, he never saw the blow coming, his eyes slipping shut before the dark, leaf-covered soil rose to meet him.

Emma leaned her weight on one hip, a large branch spinning idly in her hand.

“The troublesome ones always are.”

“Excellent form, love,” Killian praised, and Emma smirked as her husband stepped forward, black leather and dark hair separating from the shadows, his sea blue eyes glimmering mischievously. “I was wondering when you'd just get to the point.”

“Needed to know exactly what he knew.”

“The same as everyone else, it seems – except for this,” Killian pointed out, kicking the remains of some rotted out camping gear. “Why am I not surprised another of the Queen's disastrous decisions has come back to haunt us.”  

Emma waved her hand and the forest floor was magically pristine, completely devoid of anything resembling a long-disused campground.

“Problem solved.”

“Well, almost,” Hook smirked, waving his hook at the unconscious man lying between them. “There's still this one to deal with.”

“Yeah,” Emma sighed, toeing at the man's chest with her boot. “Look's like dinner is gonna be late unless one of us heads back now. Rock-paper-hook?”

“Quite humorous,” Hook drawled, rolling his eyes as Emma waved a single hooked finger in the air, “but I think I'll tackle dinner. Otherwise, the lad will be eating pop tarts and deli meat from the packaging.”

“Hey, that's protein, and the pop-tarts are pumpkin spice, so that has to count for something.”

“I highly doubt there's any squash in those monstrosities – a balanced meal they are not.”

“Should I point out how hypocritical you're being,” Emma retorted, stepping into his space and matching his grin with her own. “I'll try to be quick, unless you wanted to...” She nudged the body between them with her foot, her eyebrow angled in silent question.

Killian glanced down at the unconscious Greg Mendell, his tongue lingering over sharp fangs as he studied the tremulous pulse in the man's neck. Then his eyes darted back up to Emma, catching the way her pulse quickened and arousal widened her pupils.

“I think I'll take my repast once you return, love.”

“Just what I was hoping to hear,” she purred, knowing the wait would only make him more voracious. “I'll see you home in a bit.”

“I'll count the minutes,” Hook whispered darkly, leaning down and capturing her lips in a kiss, her tongue swirling around the curved fangs that replaced his canines. His fingers found their place in her curls, and he angled her head with a gentle tug, leaving the imprint of his teeth on her neck. “Now, allow me give you a hand back to the cruiser.”

“Such a gentleman,” she breathed, still battling her racing heart and the desire pooling low in her gut as Hook squatted and lifted Greg's body as easily as if the man weighed nothing, tossing him over a shoulder.

“Shall we?”

They hiked the short distance back to the pull off, the squad car already covered in a thin layer of fallen leaves that drifted down from above.  

“You know, I could have gotten him myself,” Emma said, knowing he would have been back with Henry already if not for her. “You'll be that much longer getting home now.”

“Nonsense, Swan. Henry can wait a few minutes on good form. Go on then, pop the boot.”

“It's called a trunk. Who did you even pick that up from? Pretty sure they don't have 'boots' in the Enchanted Forest.”

“You know, I'm not sure,” Killian shrugged, using the motion to slough Greg's still unconscious form into the trunk beside the rest of Emma's things. “Nottingham, perhaps?”  

“Do I want to know what you guys have been up to?”

“Nothing untoward, I assure you. The man can hardly hold his rum – I think Robin simply likes to include him so he can rob him blind during poker.”

Before Emma could blink, Killian had pulled several lengths of rope from his jacket and quickly bound Greg's hands and feet together, finishing the entire presentation with a strip of black cloth that he rolled tightly and wedged into his mouth, tying it round the man's head.

“So old fashioned,” Emma teased, slamming the trunk shut and leaning against it, welcoming her husband down for another kiss, trying to ignore the way it set her body afire.

“I'll see you at home, love,” he promised, and then he was gone, leaving nothing more than the cold press of his lips and the ghost of his thumb against her chin.  

“Look's like it's just you and me then,” Emma sighed, rapping on the trunk twice before fishing for the keys in her pocket. “Let's get this over with.”

//

This is the part of the story that always makes everyone gasp, although I think if you've been paying attention, the reveal will hardly be as shocking for you as what happened next was for me.

I woke, though I don't remember falling asleep. I was too terrified for that, so like everything else that happens in this god forsaken town, I blamed it on magic. Magic had stolen my voice and ability to move, it had disappeared countless people, my father included, and it was about to get rid of me as well.

And tied up in the trunk of a cop car, there was nothing I could do about it.

Everything was black, and it took me a minute to realize that nothing was moving. I could feel my breath hot and wet around the gag in my mouth. After a moment, the trunk clicked open, swinging high to reveal a starry sky surrounded by a halo of trees.

It was kind of a beautiful view, but you don't appreciate those things when you're pretty sure you're about to die.

And she stood there, blonde hair lit from behind and the edges of her jacket glowing red as she crossed her arms in front of her chest.

“I'm gonna be late for dinner because of this shit. Every year, it's someone new.”

I opened my mouth to scream, but nothing came out. As if she sensed my intention and it made no difference at all, she waved her hand and my voice rushed back to me, the gag and the magic that had silenced me both gone.

“Help! Someone help – ”

“There's no one around to hear you,” she snapped, reaching for the shovel that she'd chucked behind me. “Now get out of the car.”

“You're crazy if you think I'm just going to – ”

Her wrist flicked again and suddenly I was standing ten feet from the car in the middle of a field, the ropes that had bound me gone. I stumbled, trying to regain my balance, and I wish I could say I'd been quicker to run, but I wasn't, and even if I had, I'm sure it wouldn't have mattered.

My eyes drifted to the ground beside me – or the lack of it. A large hole roughly the size of a person had been dug into the earth, black, loamy soil piled high beside it.

“Please – ” I took a step back as she took one forward, but another wave of her wrist stole any ability I had to move on my own, my breaths shuddering against my rib cage as I stood there like a deer frozen to the road.

I could only watch in horror as she reached toward me, a look of annoyance on her face. Her hand pressed against my chest, and before I could even understand what was happening, she reached through it –  pain gripped me, tearing a feral sound from my lips as roughly as she jerked her hand free.

She stepped back, something bright red and glowing caged within her fingers, a heart – my heart.  

“Get in the hole,” she sighed, as if she were directing me to fill out paperwork and not ordering me to my death.

I wanted to object, to run and scream, but instead my feet moved, carrying me to the looming pit. I could only stare, utterly terrified, as my shoes dangled over the edge, the soil threaded with roots damp in my palms as I gripped the edge and dropped.

“Please,” I begged, staring up at her where she stood, looming over what was to be my grave. Her face was shadowed by the moon behind her, but her jacket glowed as red as my heart where she held it. “Why are you doing this?”

“I'm the Savior,” she explained with a tone that said she found the job rather inconvenient. “I protect this town, keep it safe.”

“From what?”

“From people like you, who come and poke your noses into our business. We have a life here, and we just want to live it in peace. So I do my part, we all do.”

“So now you're just gonna what, bury me alive?” I screamed, bile thick on the back of my tongue and my limbs shaking with adrenaline.

“Alive?” she laughed. “No, what kind of monster do you think I am?”

I could feel my heart thumping against my bones as she held her arm over my open grave, the red glimmer moving closer, illuminating the glistening curves of worms and beetles that treaded the freshly disturbed earth.

And then she squeezed.

Pain unlike anything I'd ever known consumed me, and as some non-corporeal part of me rose high above, I looked down and saw the grey ash that fell from her hand to litter my corpse below.

She brushed her palms together, as if they were dirtied by nothing more than crumbs, and then with a tired flick of her wrist, the black soil scattered on the ground tipped itself back into the hole, burying me entirely.    

//

There's an old, scenic Victorian home whose windows peer out over the sea.

Inside, a woman comes home for the evening. She hangs her red leather jacket reverently beside its black companion.

At the table, a husband dusts hot cocoa with cinnamon, smiling as she takes it to warm her hands after an evening in the cold.

She sits on the sofa with her son, watching as he's captivated by the soft glow of the TV, a controller gripped between his hands and an empty dinner plate on the table.

It's a scene fitting for an autumnal New England night – Norman Rockwell for the millennials.

There's no outward sign of the monsters that lurk beneath. There's no blood on her hands, but they're red with it all the same, just as her neck is painted red later that evening as her husband takes his own meal.

Her and every other person in this town – it's all painted red.

So, now you've listened to my story – one more 'tourist' who's taken the long drive up the coast to this damned town, searching for mystery and ghosts.

You've found one, one of many – the only question is, will you linger to hear the rest, or will you flee onward to the next small town with its small stories, grateful that the monsters you sought have passed you by?

Choose wisely, Ghost Hunter – some stories are best left buried.

END

Tagging:  @donteattheappleshook @justanother-unluckysoul @kmomof4 @the-darkdragonfly @teamhook @zaharadessert @xarandomdreamx @jrob64 @wefoundloveunderthelight @tiganasummertree @pirateprincessofpizza @lfh1226-linda @alexa-fangirl-forever @alifeofdreams @superchocovian @hollyethecurious @caught-in-the-filter @snowbellewells @itsfabianadocarmo @stahlop @karlyfr13s @elizabeethan @rkrbirdgirl @batana54 @ilovemesomekillianjones