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winterchimez · 4 months

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A New Beginning With You | Lee Juyeon

SUMMARY: it has been a couple of years since you and your childhood best friend, Juyeon, went on your separate ways. Years later, you were given the opportunity to return to Seoul to pursue a new career, only to find out that your new employer is the one you have been dreading to see. Will you toss away all of the emotions again, or will you finally come to terms and fix this broken relationship with him?

PAIRING: ceo!Juyeon x f!reader

GENRE: office au, ex-childhood friends to lovers, coming of age, angst, fluff

WARNINGS: nc-17, slow-burn, this is pretty angsty ngl 😭, betrayal, several heart wrenching moments (it takes a while for both Juyeon and reader to figure out their emotions), language (one curse word), miscommunication, alcohol consumption, reader gets drunk a couple of times, several heated arguments, petnames (princess, sweetheart), kissing

WORD COUNT: 15,466

A/N: here is my submission for deoboyznet's holiday exchange event!! boo @cloverdaisies i'm your secret santa 🎅👀 ngl i did struggle with the prompts that you gave mainly cs i don't usually read/watch coming of age works so i hope i did this fic justice 🥹🥹🥹 big big shoutout to @momhwa-agenda for choosing the banner, also helping me to beta read (along with @from-izzy @juyeonszn) sending my unending kisses and hugs to all of you 😘💕

Seven years ago

“What do you mean you’re leaving?”

It all just felt so sudden, and you weren’t sure if you were hallucinating as you heard those words that came out from the mouth of your best friend for the past seventeen years. You both have made a promise to one another since you both were in kindergarten that no matter how big or small the situation may be, you both will always have each other’s backs and that no secrets were to be kept from one another, even if they may feel like you have been punched right into the face during the aftermath of it all.

Or that was what you thought.

“Y/N…I had no control over anything…you do know how my father often has to travel across the globe for his job—”

“But that doesn’t change the fact that you decided to keep it a secret from me when you first discovered that you were potentially going to follow your father’s footsteps for his company.”

From the beginning, you knew that Juyeon’s father worked at a relatively elite corporate company. Because of his status, he was often sent away to various countries to fulfill his job. It has been decades since his father has been in and out of Seoul, and he would often travel on his own not wanting to bother his family and wanting them to have a peaceful life here.

Never in a million years would you have thought that he would bring his entire family along with him as he starts a new chapter in his life in the States, and also get Juyeon to follow in his father’s footsteps.

You were on the verge of crying, your cheeks were heating up, and you had unintentionally balled up your fists, clearly failing terribly to suppress the anger and betrayal you felt.

“I just don’t get it, Juyeon. You have always wanted to pursue basketball. Hell, you have even sought a sports scholarship to get into one of the prestigious universities in Seoul! Why are you giving up now?” You huffed.

You could tell that he was showing some reluctance in his answer, and truthfully, he didn’t really know how to give you an answer, either. But he decided to reply in the most plausible and fitting one that was right for the current situation you both were in.

“Family has to always come first, Y/N. If it were for my family's future, especially my stay-at-home mother and younger brother, I would do anything to ensure my father and I can provide for them.”

You scoffed. “Bullshit.”

You took a few steps forward until you were merely inches apart. Looking straight into Juyeon’s eyes, you could tell he felt the same way and was also trying to hold back his tears.

“You’re not the Juyeon I know. My Juyeon, who has been right by my side ever since we were kids, would always go above and beyond to work for what he truly wants. He is never afraid to voice his opinion, and he would do anything to ensure his happiness would be fulfilled no matter the consequences.”

Finally, the tears that you have held back for so long began dripping down your face as you began to hit him simultaneously on his chest.

“What exactly happened to you, Juyeon?”

At the same time, tears clouded his vision as a single teardrop dripped onto his face. You could tell that something was holding him back from telling you the truth, if any, and his following answer would break you down even more.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

With that, a black car pulls up at the school entrance, revealing his younger brother rolling down the window to call out for his big brother. You could see multiple pieces of luggage lined up at the back trunk of the car, and they were ready to head straight to the airport.

With a glance back to signal to his family that he would be coming shortly, he turned to you to apologise once more before gently pushing you away to leave.

“I’m really sorry, Y/N. I wish you all the best in your future as you enter university and eventually the workforce.”

Just like that, Juyeon quickly sped down the stairs and opened the door to the car before settling in. Within seconds, his parents, sitting in the front seats, gave you a little wave before they drove away right through the exit.

Almost instantly, all of the built-up tension was suddenly released from you all at once, and you finally broke down crying at the entrance of your high school. What you thought would be a memorable, happy graduation for you both as you parted ways with your youth years turned out to be one sad separation from your best friend.

You both planned your summer holidays with one another before officially enrolling in university in the autumn. You were going to head to Busan for a five-day trip during the first month, going to visit your aunt who lived on the outskirts of Seoul to help her in her fieldwork (especially when she has a soft spot for Juyeon), and even going to visit all of the bazaars that were going to be held in central Seoul.

There were so many potential activities and times you could have had with one another, and you were even planning to propose to Juyeon that you wanted to be more than just childhood friends.

Because you have been having an insane crush on him since you were kids, and you realised it was love by the time you both entered high school.

Unfortunately, it was too late to confess your love to him, as he was now long gone, heading straight to the airport before he eventually said his final goodbye to his home for the past seventeen years, Seoul.

Maybe it was fate that you both were just not meant to be with one another; perhaps it was why his father had no choice but to bring his whole family with him to start a new life in the States.

For the first time, you cursed and blamed yourself for having such hope and planning a potential future with someone who was clearly out of your league, and you thought it had all been a waste of time since the beginning.

With that, the little needle-felted cat you have been hiding and made last night was released from your grips as he fell towards the stairs and eventually towards the ground. As you noticed, more tears kept welling up in your eyes, and you brought both hands to cover your face, not wanting to care about anything right now.

I shouldn’t have had so much hope. I was stupid enough actually to fall in love with you, Juyeon.

Present Day

“Oh, Y/N! Looks like your article just got published in the London Mail this morning!”

Your co-worker gave you a little pat on the back before he placed the newspapers right onto your desk, and it was clear how your article was published right on the front page with your name written very obviously at the right corner.

“Please, it was nothing. It’s what I do all the time,” you replied bluntly.

“What do you mean it was nothing? You just interviewed the rising actor of the month! That’s big news, and you deserve to celebrate it!"

“Please, it really is nothing—”

“Hey everyone, our department needs a little night out after work at the local pub! We’re toasting to Y/N’s big break in the news today!”

Your co-worker shouted out loud, and eventually, cheers erupted in the office, everyone congratulating you and thinking about the potential drinks and songs they would go for once work is over.

You smiled and chuckled at the sight. You have always loved your job and are grateful to have met such a fantastic group of people in this company.

It wasn’t your dream to pursue the path of becoming a reporter in the beginning. Sure, you have always had a passion for writing, but you have always considered it your hobby. Thanks to your sister, who was studying abroad in Manchester then, who convinced you to take that leap of faith and turn that hobby into a potential job.

So here you were, living the best of your life. You followed your sister’s footsteps and went on to live abroad in the UK, enrolling in the University of Manchester, where you successfully graduated with honours the past year. Thankfully, you secured a place in the London Mail right after graduation due to your outstanding grades.

The move from Manchester to London was a bit tough, but you initially managed to pull through with your sister and her boyfriend's help. They were kind enough to help you settle down and stayed with you for the first couple weeks before returning to Manchester. You miss your sister’s presence, but you know that eventually, you had to venture out on your own and face reality as an adult.

It has been a year, and you have adapted to living alone. Often, things would get tough, but it was also thanks to you having such a fantastic team of colleagues that you were able to pull through it all, even when there were times you had to work overtime to fulfill all of the datelines that were pilling up nonstop, especially during the holiday seasons.

It wasn’t until recently that your article was accepted and published on the main cover page of the news, and that was when you finally earned your big break after a year. The company has deemed you to be one of the most talented youngsters they have had over the past decade, and they were more than happy to have had you as their employee.

Since then, things have settled down for you as you got a pay rise and had fewer hours to give you more time to rest well, mainly when you only survived with four to five hours of sleep daily. Now, you can eat your breakfast correctly and get a good seven to eight hours of sleep before coming every day.

Just as your co-workers were having the time of their lives trying to figure out the plans for tonight after work, your office desk telephone rang, and you picked it up hastily, thinking that you’d have another big scoop to write about

But it was from the CEO.

“Miss Y/N, please report to my office immediately.”

You were back home after that fun night out at your local pub with your co-workers, holding a beer in hand as you FaceTime your sister over the phone.

“Well, it’s a good opportunity for you, don’t you think, Y/N?”

“I’m not too sure about all of this, sis. Like yeah, it would be great that I would be back home, but still—”

“Hey, I know mom would be ecstatic to have you back in Seoul with her. And it just so happened that you have been telling me how you recently began feeling a little homesick. I’d say it would be great for you to take up the offer.” She reassured.

It was the moment your mouth fell open wide when you heard that you had been offered to be a senior reporter for one of Seoul’s top magazines at the moment, GQ Korea, where you would be interviewing potentially all of the current well-known celebrities in the country and getting a higher pay as well.

It seems that they have come across your contributions from the London Mail, and they were keen to have you on their team. Your first thought was grateful as your works were recognised globally, but also because you miss being home. But another part of you has already settled in the UK, so you weren’t sure if leaving now would be the right choice.

But now that your sister has given you some input, that was when you knew that it wouldn’t hurt to try it out, at the very least.

With one final sip of your beer, you leaned forward and gave your sister a smile for the first time since calling her this evening.

“I’m going home now, sis.”

It has been a week since you settled into Seoul, and you have loved being back in your comfort zone: the culture, the food, and the environment you grew up in.

Your mom was overjoyed as she picked you up from the airport, insisting she would take your luggage, especially when you have flown almost twenty-four hours just to get home. By the time you got home, your mom was already ready and prepared with all the dishes she had premade before your arrival and needed to heat them quickly.

You quickly took a shower before joining her at the dining table. You both chatted for close to midnight before she told you she would sleep ahead of you. Meanwhile, you decided to clean up your childhood bedroom to make space for everything you brought back from London.

There was this nostalgia as you entered your room; everything was still the same, exactly how you had left it when you left for the UK years ago. The same old blue painting on the wall, all your posters hung on them, even your favourite comic books that were still arranged nicely on your bookshelf.

You could tell there wasn’t a speck of dust in the room, indicating that your mom must have cleaned it occasionally. You couldn’t help but sigh, thinking about all the hard work she always puts herself through.

It took you a while to go through all your belongings, mainly because you were reminiscing as you looked at the pictures, books, and figurines scattered throughout your room.

It wasn’t until you came across a box tucked away at the corners of your room that you pulled them out towards the centre as you opened them up.

And god, you wished you hadn’t done that.

All the pictures and items contained memories you had with your past lover, Lee Juyeon.

You paused momentarily before reaching out to pick up the first item on top of the box: a picture.

It was taken when you both were in kindergarten. You were holding hands, wearing backpacks and little yellow helmets on your heads. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight; it was nostalgic and cute.

Right after that, you took out a pair of bracelets right below the picture. It was a friendship bracelet that you both made during middle school. It was summer when you recently discovered the trend of making friendship bracelets, where you went straight to Juyeon’s house across the street, practically dragged him back to your house, and got him to make one with you. You giggled at the thought of how Juyeon was so lost at the time, having to come to you almost every five seconds to tell you that he had either lost a piece or was having trouble threading the beads through the string.

When you thought it would all be good memories, you stumbled upon the one item you wished you would not have to see again.

The needle-felted cat you made for him on the night before graduation.

Unbeknownst to you, your hands began to tremble as you took the cat into your hands, staring at it as the memories flashed back: how you would give this to Juyeon and tell him that you were ready to be more than just close friends, up to the point of how he suddenly announced to you that he was leaving for good.

Slowly, you felt that your tears were beginning to well up in your eyes, and you quickly dumped all of the items back into the box and tucked them back in the corner, using a few items you had in your room, such as cardboard to block it completely out of sight.

You were not ready to go through all of the roller coasters of emotion once again.

Especially when deep down in your heart, you still had some feelings left for him. Even if you did not wish to admit it out loud.

You stood outside the tall building as you tried your best to fix up the blazer that your mum insisted you put on for your big day. With your handbag and laptop, you gave yourself a deep breath before mentally preparing yourself that this would be your new workplace from now on.

You looked to see the vast sign plastered outside the building: GQ Korea. You were definitely at the right place. It took you a few seconds to finally be able to take your very first steps into the building. Once you did, you were amazed at the astonishing art that filled the reception floor. It was a fashion and art magazine; after all, there was no doubt that the company's directors entailed such a choice of decorations to captivate everyone who walked into their building.

You walked straight towards the counter, where you were greeted by two ladies who were already expecting your arrival. Immediately, they got you signed up in the system, and one guided you to one of the fifth floors, where you would be meeting your new team and department that you would be working with.

As you were guided into the head of the department’s office, Ms Kim, who has been guiding and overlooking this particular department for the past five years, greeted you and made you feel comfortable instantly, which made all of your tensed-up muscles relax fairly quickly. She communicated well with you and, surprisingly, even shared some of the same ideals as you did. You were beyond grateful to hear when she mentioned that she has kept up with your works from the London Mail, and it was about time that the team needed someone like you.

Once both of you had taken the time to break the ice, Ms Kim led you to your desk just outside her office, where countless cubicles filled the entire floor. At first glance, you have estimated that there were about fifty employees who worked in this department. It didn’t take them long to greet you personally before you eventually made your way to your desk in the middle of the floor.

As you unloaded your bag of materials onto the desk and placed them in an organised manner, your hands digging through your bag finally stopped when you felt a familiar material. Instantly, you pulled it out to check what it was, and you were once again left speechless with what it was.

A picture of you and Juyeon back during your graduation from high school.

The only plausible reason it was in your workbag was because of your mother. You have never once told her that things ended badly between you both, and you have always shrugged off the fact that you were still keeping in touch with the man himself and that you both were still having a healthy friendship. You just didn’t want her to worry much, especially when she knew how much you both have been through, and she practically treated Juyeon like her own son.

As all loving mothers would do, she woke up hours ahead of you this morning to prepare you a filling bento box. She wrapped it with traditional cloth and placed it neatly into your work bag. At the same time, she probably put the little picture frame into the bag, hoping it would motivate you during work and decorate your new workplace.

With just a few seconds of staring at it, you looked down to see an empty trash bin that sat right beneath your work desk, and without thinking much, you immediately placed the picture right into it.

I’m sorry, mom. But I will not be needing it anymore.

Your first week of work flew by quickly as you easily got used to the working lifestyle. Seoul was your home, and it wasn’t hard to adapt back to the culture. In fact, you were grateful that your new group of co-workers could be on par with the ones back in London; they were all as great and supportive in helping you ease into the new environment. Your new co-workers even encouraged you to head out for a little drink at the local izakaya restaurant after work since it has been a long weekend for everyone, and you surely did enjoy the little company you had before heading home a little after midnight.

In terms of fitting in as GQ Korea's new reporter, it has been a thrilling ride learning about all of the entertainment biz that has been going on in the country. Since your forte was with celebrities, your head of department had assigned you the same, focusing on the rising K-Pop stars in the industry.

It has been a while since you kept up with Korean celebrities since you mainly focused on Western artists abroad for a couple of years. But as you kept up with the news and made sure to read the newspaper first thing every morning you came right in, you made sure that you have been kept up to date with all of the latest announcements and events that have been going on in the industry.

Today was a big day for you as Ms Kim had instructed you to head up to the top floor, where you would first meet up with the CEO for the very first time since joining the company as he would like to brief you through the details in regards to the celebrities that will be coming later in the day.

You thought it was probably some hotshot celeb for the CEO to personally guide you through each step regarding what or how you should deal with them. However, you weren’t too mad since you figured they probably did things differently here in Seoul.

As you finally reached the top floor, you were then escorted by whom you assumed to be the CEO’s personal assistant, who was already expecting your arrival as they kindly let your head department know that she was free to leave. The walk down the hallway towards the CEO’s office seemed a little daunting to you for some reason; perhaps it was also because you were meeting someone who is considered to be one of the famous people in the heart of Seoul—there’s a reason why GQ Korea is always on the top-selling markets.

As the assistant kindly knocked on the door and got a verbal cue from the other side, she took a step behind to let you move forward as you slowly turned the doorknob to enter the room.

Immediately, you notice how the entire office is decorated extravagantly, filled with tons of high-end decorations that suit the taste of the CEO himself. The wide, clear windows dominated most of the room, offering a panoramic cityscape view. A curated selection of artwork filled the walls, which added a little personal touch to the working space.

You didn’t realise that your mouth was wide open as you slowly took in the mesmerising view until you turned towards the desk, where the CEO was sitting on his chair with his back facing you, flipping through multiple documents in his hands.

As you slowly made your way towards him, your little footsteps made the CEO’s ears perk up, causing the man to stand up and finally turn to face you in person for the first time.

With that, your entire world seemed to pause for a moment.

What exactly was going on? There was no way this young man could be the CEO, especially when you were certain that he had left Seoul years ago and sworn that his chances of returning to his homeland would be close to zero. Your laptop in hand was slowly beginning to slip off before you were brought back to reality and quickly caught it before it eventually hit the ground.

That was when you finally muttered your first words since stepping into the CEO’s office.

“J-Juyeon…?”

It was pretty evident that the man himself was just as confused and shocked as you were; he practically stood there motionless, trying his best to make sense of the current situation.

“Y-Y/N? What are you doing here?”

“I should be the one asking you that,” you replied.

You were about to go haywire just from this interaction alone. It was hard enough for you to move on from what happened seven years ago, and it proved to be a lot harder than you thought when you came back a few weeks ago to see that all of the things that you’ve tried so hard to forget were now back in the comforts of your bedroom.

Ever since then, you had promised yourself that you wouldn’t want anything to do with Juyeon anymore, and you have decided to shut your heart regarding anything related to the man himself.

If only it were easier said than done.

Juyeon finally took his first step away from his desk as he slowly approached you, extending his hand as if he was craving your touch again. You could tell that he was desperate for a little physical contact, perhaps to prove that you really stood in front of him.

But you couldn’t, and you weren’t ready for any of that, so you backed off instead, giving him a clear signal that you weren’t on the same page as he was.

There was this evident sadness in his eyes, and he tried his best to hold back his tears as his eyes began to water.

“Y/N…I—”

“Miss L/N. You can address me that, Mr. Lee,” you bluntly replied before diverting your attention to the ground.

It was when Juyeon finally got himself together and straightened his posture before clearing his throat. “Very well, Miss L/N. I’ll quickly brief you on the events happening today, with the group of celebrities arriving in a couple of hours soon. Please, have a seat.”

“I hate him, I really do!” You screamed at the top of your lungs as you took the pint of beer in your hands before slamming it down onto the table. Your sister had to restrain you from causing a scene at the bar, trying to settle you down and handing you a glass of water to chug down your system.

Your sister had just recently came back to Seoul for a little vacation, and you immediately asked that she could keep you accompany down at the local izakaya restaurant that you often visited to let off some steam.

“Karma is really on your side huh, Y/N,” your sister teased.

“I-It’s not funny, sissy….” your voice began to slur, indicating that you were starting to get drunk at this point. “Why…of all people, why?! Why did it have to be him? As my boss! In my new workplace!”

“Look, it can’t be that bad. Who knows, maybe you might get another chance again with him.”

“That’s not the point, sissy….after what he has done to me? After all that I have done to try my best to move on from the past? This should not be happening to me at all!” Your voice broke as you began tearing up, causing your sister to pull you close into her embrace, slowly caressing your back to help soothe you a little.

Your sister was well aware of your history with Juyeon, especially when you’ve spent weeks, which eventually that turned into months of crying out to her over the phone since she was already studying abroad then, she knew how much the whole situation wrecked you badly, to the point that it has taken you months to start going out and meeting people outside of university eventually.

She was there when you were both younger, seeing how you developed a crush on him later and knowing you weren’t just childhood friends and had something way more than that. It was a shame that Juyeon left without telling you, and she would’ve gone to the airport to confront him about it if only she had been back in Seoul then. But deep down, she knew Juyeon as much as you did and knew that suddenly, something probably came up for him to leave the country like that.

As a matter of fact, your sister had always wished and rooted for you both to become a couple eventually; she had always been a firm believer of childhood friends to lovers anyway, especially when that was how she ended up with her current fiancé. Now that you both have reunited in the most unexpected way, she believes her theory about you both eventually having a second chance was stronger than ever before.

With that, she lifted her eyebrows as if she had just come up with a brilliant idea. “Say, little sis. What exactly are you up to at work tomorrow?”

You sniffled. “Umm…I guess I have a meeting with Juyeon to discuss the upcoming fashion show that is due to be set in a couple of months. Why do you ask?”

Your sister gave you a little smirk in return before cradling you like a baby again. “Oh, it was nothing. I’m sure you’ll have a fruitful discussion tomorrow.”

You dreaded coming to work today. The very first reason is that you woke up with a really bad hangover from last night, and you practically don’t remember much that has happened besides chugging down pints of beer from your system. It has been a while since you’ve drank this much, and most importantly, because you were upset over something. Otherwise, you were pretty much sober most of the time and always being the one to drag your co-workers home because they were far worse than you were.

And, of course, it was also because you hated the idea that you must come face-to-face with your so-called ex-childhood best friend again—this time, in an actual meeting. Well, in some ways, you were glad that it was only a meeting for a potentially massive event that the company had been known to host for years and that Juyeon would probably be able to distinguish between personal and work-life issues.

But still, you just weren’t ready to face him again, especially with the huge shock you’d received the day before. It was already hard enough for you to stay focused when Juyeon briefed you through your job scope and the meeting you would have for the day, trying your best not to let the tears drip down nor let the anger boil up.

However, you had no choice since you must also stay professional at your work. You just got back to Korea, and there was no way you would chicken out and move everything back to the UK again. Well, potentially, you could, but it wouldn’t be an ethical move to make.

So here you are, hugging your documents and laptop towards your chest, standing outside the meeting room. You had to take a few deep breaths before you could muster up the courage to turn the doorknob and enter the room.

Once you did, you noticed how the entire room was filled up, with most of your co-workers in their designated seats, sorting through the documents they would use for the meeting. You immediately diverted your attention towards the front where Juyeon was seated, and you hated how you had actually spent a good minute admiring his features.

He wore a simple beige coat over a white tee, paired with a pair of black slim pants with leather shoes. His black hair was styled all the way back, leaving a little strand of hair down on his forehead. He was busy flipping through his documents while setting up his laptop to project the PowerPoint slides for everyone to see.

You just hated how extremely good-looking he was right now and that there was a high chance that you wouldn’t concentrate on your work throughout the next hour.

And how you would actually want to run into his embrace and give him a little peck on the lips—

Wait, what?

As Juyeon finally lifted his head from the monitor and looked at everyone else in the room, it was a sign that the meeting was about to commence, and you quickly took the still available seat, the front seat.

Throughout the presentation, you tried your best to take in everything that Juyeon- well, your CEO, was trying to convey to his employees. It turns out that this upcoming fashion show would be one of the most crucial ones the company has ever done for years, especially now that all the big brands are willing to collaborate with GQ Korea and put out the best fashion show in the country.

It was quite a breathtaking look to see how Juyeon was passionate about his job, talking and explaining each detail to his employees carefully while making it enjoyable for everyone to learn or be part of. With that, you have noticed how every single employee in the room was constantly taking down details as quickly as lightning, making sure not to miss out on any small detail. There were moments when some would raise their hands to ask further questions, and Juyeon was more than happy to answer them, making the whole meeting seem less stressful but instead quite engaging in return.

There were times when you found yourself staring at him more than you should’ve, and every time he diverted his attention towards you, you would quickly duck your head down to look back at your laptop as if you were busy typing away on your notes.

Time seemed to have passed quickly as Juyeon finally wrapped up the meeting and let everyone off. In fact, the meeting ended right at the dot, and it was just past noon, meaning it was lunchtime for all employees. Everyone was quick to dash through the door, their stomach grumbling after using up all of the energy for the meeting. For you, you decided to pack up your belongings at your own pace, knowing that you would be spending your lunch back at your cubicle with the little bento box your mother had packed for you this morning.

As you are about to head straight for the door, the familiar voice stops you in your tracks, making you turn your head back to face the man himself.

“Miss L/N, I would like to have a word with you.”

Oh, god. It’s here.

Mentally, you were cursing out all the vulgar words you knew at the back of your mind as you slowly approached your CEO, trying your best not to let out the croak in your voice.

“Y-Yes, may I help you, Mr Lee?”

“There is a place that I have to pay a short visit, and I would like you to keep me company.”

Whenever an employer or the CEO would address their employees to keep them company as they pay a visit to a certain location, it usually meant that it was to meet up with a client or to survey certain products or places that could significantly be crucial for the company’s success.

But here you were, sitting in one of the fancy cafes that wasn’t far from the office, having lunch with your CEO, who was sitting in front of you.

Juyeon said nothing along the way as he brought you to the cafe, insisting that you sit down and order from the menu with no questions asked. As awkward as it was, you were about to deny his request before he looked straight down towards the menu, not even glancing at you.

You figured this was probably part of the job, and there was no way you would deny your CEO’s request right here and then, especially when it was working hours and everything was strictly business.

Once both of you have made your orders to the waitress that just passed by a minute ago, you diverted your attention towards the tablecloth, not wanting to look straight at Juyeon. However, his deep voice caught your attention, and you lifted your head back up after hearing the words you had wanted to say for the past seven years.

“I think it’s about time I told you the truth, Y/N.”

Oh, he called you by your name.

As you focus your attention right on him, you can see the sadness in his eyes once more, just like how it was back when you first encountered him in his office the day before.

“Umm…with due respect Mr Lee—”

“Juyeon is fine. We’re outside of work, Y/N. I would appreciate it if you could talk to me like we used to, and I will do the same,” he responded, slowly resting his arms on the tablecloth as if he were leaning slightly closer to you.

With that you took a significantly big gulp, knowing that the day you longed for was finally here. You were about to get the answers you desperately needed to know, but at the same time, you weren’t so sure if you wanted to know the truth right now, especially with all of the things that you have gone through trying your best to take him out of your life completely.

“Will you please give me a chance to listen to what I have to say?” He pleaded, looking at you with a desperate look in his eyes.

Your gut and mind were trying to tell you that you have done your best to completely eliminate him in your life for the past seven years. Would you give up easily and open your enclosed heart just like that? After all of the hard work that you have done?

Say no, Y/N. You have gotten over the guy. It’s all over between you two—

“Yeah. Go on.”

Goddammit, Y/N.

Immediately, his eyes lit up upon your words, and his shoulders slumped down a little, indicating that he has relaxed a bit.

“Oh, thank god, Y/N. I guess you were still the same old Y/N that I remembered—”

“You said we’re not employers and employees now, so I’d say cut to the chase with what you have to say while you can, Juyeon,” you bluntly replied as you crossed your arms around you.

In return, Juyeon gave you a little weak smile and a sigh before he eventually diverted his full attention to you.

“Remember when we got separated back in high school? During our graduation day, you—”

“You left me behind, Juyeon.”

“I didn’t have a choice back then, Y/N. But now I’m here to tell you everything. You have no idea how our stomach dropped when my father came home and told us that his company was about to go bankrupt, and we were on the verge of losing everything.”

So that was what happened.

“And how it was also the day my mother found out that she had cancer and her chances of recovery were lower than expected.”

“J-Juyeon…w-why didn’t you tell me all of this?”

“I wanted to. I really wanted to so badly, Y/N. Because you’re my best friend, and you deserve to know everything. But I just didn’t know how to, and I was afraid of what might happen, and I don’t want to put the pressure on you.”

“W-Where are they now, then?”

Juyeon had to take in a big breath before choosing his following words wisely, knowing it must’ve been hard to even talk about it publicly. “Mom became bedridden, and she’s still receiving treatment in one of the hospitals back in the States. Dad is currently running a small little shop near the hospital along with my little brother.”

“Then, why did you come back here?”

“I came back because starting a proper company there was tough. I figured there might be a slight chance things could work out here in Seoul. With the remaining funds we had, I eventually begged my dad to give his final trust in me as I found a way to make things work out. Luckily, we had some acquaintances back here, and they helped me get into one of the prestigious universities and eventually landed me a job here at GQ Korea. I started as a normal employee before I eventually became their CEO a year prior.”

It was then you noticed a single teardrop on the verge of dripping down his face from the corners of his eyes. Naturally and unbeknownst to you, your hand reached for the tissues placed neatly on the table, and you leaned in to wipe away that single teardrop.

Only then did you both realise what you were doing, and that was when your eyes widened, and you were about to prop down back to your seat.

That was until Juyeon grabbed your wrist, not wanting to let you go.

“This teardrop is nothing, Y/N. I’m so sorry you have to see this side of me. It’s not very cool, I guess,” he chuckled, trying his best to lighten up the mood a bit.

As soon as he says those words, your other free hand eventually finds itself on Juyeon’s shoulders, causing the male’s eyes to widen this time before you finally speak out the words that you have always wanted to tell straight to his face all those years ago.

“Juyeon, you need to start learning to put yourself before others. And I really mean it.”

“Y/N, I—”

“No buts. Even after all these years, you’re still the same as before, always prioritising others before your own. As much as you are the most kind-hearted soul I’ve ever seen, you need to start loving and giving yourself some credit,” you replied, adding a little pressure onto your grip on his shoulders.

With that, none of you said a word for a good couple of seconds, and you both just spent the entire time staring into each other's eyes as if you were conveying your messages non-verbally. That was until Juyeon finally decided to break the tension off by smiling at you, a genuine one you had consistently grown to love back then.

“So, am I back in your good graces now, princess?”

You were finally brought back to your senses, and you quickly removed both hands from him and sat down swiftly back on your chair, ducking your head down while giving a slight pout.

Juyeon missed this sight of you and was absolutely admiring the whole situation that unfolded before him. Just then, both of your meals arrived, and the same waitress from before gently placed each of your respective ones in front of you. Juyeon then gently placed the cutlery in front of you.

“Dig in,” he mentioned before whipping out the napkin and placing it right on his lap, before going in with his cutlery to cut through his steak.

In return, you swiftly picked up yours and roughly cut through your freshly cooked breaded cod fish.

“No one calls a normal friend princess, Lee freaking Juyeon,” you mumbled.

Just when you thought that would be the only time you would actually spend some time alone with Juyeon, it turns out the male had perceived that you both were back just the way you were when you were kids.

Since that day, Juyeon would actually make his way out to invite you often to join lunch with him at the same cafe, usually ordering a different dish from the wide selection of food on the menu. What Juyeon loved the most about the place was the ambience and good coffee, and he would always be seen ordering a big jumbo-sized cup of iced latte to bring back to his office to help get through the rest of the day.

You, on the other hand, were often stuck with more or less the same few dishes that you’ve tried, and you, too, would order your usual iced americano back to the office once you both were done with the meal.

At first, you have always tried your best to avoid having contact with him; that first lunch date was just a typical day, as you would try to convince yourself. But whenever Juyeon gets a little break out from the office, he would either send you a personal email or sometimes ask his personal assistant to come down to your department to inform you to wait for the man down at the lobby at noon.

You obviously could do your very best to come up with excuses to let him know that you’re busy with something or you already have plans to eat with your co-workers, but it seemed that the heart does what it wants, and it does not align with the signals that your brain is trying to tell you; which is to avoid and cut off this whole friendship for good.

So you were back to being the giddy seventeen-year-old little girl who often felt excited whenever you spent time with your childhood friend. Hence, every time you were taking the very last escalator down to the lobby, you would often use that little time to admire the way Juyeon would always lean against one of the pillars while swiping through his phone with one hand and keeping the other one inside the pocket of his coat.

But you did not want to admit it just yet, so you would constantly remind yourself that he’s only back for a while; it wouldn’t be so easy to open up your ice-cold heart again.

That was until today.

Just a few days prior, Juyeon had given you a ticket to visit this huge Christmas market in the town centre. At first, you stared at the paper blankly, thinking it was all a joke and he couldn’t have gone with you. But the male made it clear that he invited you to come along, which would be the two of you together.

Your heart was bouncing so fast that you were afraid it would eventually pop out of your chest as you slowly approached where you both were supposed to meet. You figured it best that you arrived twenty minutes earlier to compose yourself and try to understand your situation.

As you paced back and forth for god knows how long, you finally heard your name being called out from the far distance, and you perked your head up to see that Juyeon was waving his hands and running towards you like he used to back when he was a kid.

Once he finally stopped right in front of you, he began panting heavily to the point you were genuinely worried if this man was actually alright.

“Woah, what the hell happened to you? You seemed like you were escaping from a monster or something,” you joked.

“N-No…I went to get this for you…” Juyeon then hands you a brown paper bag, and you accept it while being all confused.

“Open it, Y/N. Have a look at what’s inside,” he insisted before resting both hands on his hips.

While giving Juyeon a weird look, you finally peeped into the bag and extended your arm into the brown bag before you finally felt something soft against your palms and eventually pulled whatever it was out.

Your eyes widened when you saw what it was.

“J-Juyeon…this…”

“Remember way back in high school; we promised each other that we would want to visit the Christmas markets, and how badly did you want this soft alpaca plushie that was way too expensive for neither of us to get our hands on? Yeah, I actually got it before the store closed like minutes ago.”

He remembered.

You have always been vocal about wanting this plushie for years, and there was no way your parents were buying it for you, claiming that it was way too expensive (which it was since it was part of a collaboration with one of the high-end fashion companies) and that you wouldn’t have a proper use for it. Back then, Juyeon couldn’t do anything but reassure you that one day, your wish would definitely come true while always giving you pinky promises.

And now, you were finally receiving your biggest Christmas wishlist item as an adult, and you couldn’t be much happier.

You laughed. “Juyeon, you do realise that I’m not a child anymore, right?”

“Who says plushies are only meant for young children? Why can’t adults have their collection? I’ll tell you I have a Build-A-Bear in my bedroom.”

“You must be joking.”

“Mark my words, Y/N.”

Eventually, you both started laughing out loud before you hugged the plushie close to you, activating the heating function in the toy to keep yourself warm; that was the main purpose that made you want to purchase this product long ago.

“Thank you, Juyeon.”

“Well, instead of thanking me, why don’t you keep me company for the night as we explore this Christmas market together?”

You smiled. “With pleasure.”

“Oh, Juyeon~ Have I ever told you how much I’ve admired your good looks? I’d like to think that your family genes are something else.”

After an hour or two of walking through the entire Christmas market and having too much fun going to each stall and trying out the different activities and food, you eventually stumbled upon one located towards the furthest end and sold various eggnog drinks. You have never tried this particular alcoholic beverage before; you were mostly used to the beers that you often get back in the pubs in London. However, Juyeon insisted that you give it a go especially for the Christmas season, and he eventually bought both of you a mug.

The initial taste seemed a bit off to you, but once the alcohol started kicking in, you eventually began to chug the whole liquid down as if it were nobody’s business. After some time, one mug of eggnog began turning into two, and then three, and finally, you were pretty sure that you were on your fifth mug by now.

That was when Juyeon realised that he should’ve stopped you by your second or third mug because now you were barely walking properly without his aid, and your speech began to slur as he linked your arms over his shoulders, trying his best to support you while walking you back home.

You both had to take the subway trains to head back to your apartment and during the entire time, you were clingy with your childhood friend, often wrapping your arms around him and giving him a tight squeeze while mumbling incoherent words. You caught the attention of all passengers and passersby, but Juyeon could only smile at how you looked right now.

He had never seen you drunk before, and this was a whole new experience for him. But he wasn’t too mad that you reminded him so much of your younger self; it was as if he was witnessing the seven-year-old you again in the present day.

After walking from the subway and, eventually, towards your front door to your apartment, Juyeon was about to take you up towards the elevator until you stopped him in his tracks.

“No Juyeon~ why are you leaving me so early? We still have so much more to see in the market!”

He smiled. “Y/N, I think it’s time for you to head home to get some rest.”

“But I don’t wanna~”

With that, Juyeon grabbed hold of both your shoulders as he bent down to be on the same eye level as you, trying his best to talk to you in your drunken stage.

“Y/N, I’ll see you tomorrow, hmm? We’ve had loads of fun today, and besides, your mom and sister would be worried sick about you at this late hour.”

Immediately, you lifted your pinky at him, which caused the male to stare at you blankly. “Pinky promise that I get to see you tomorrow, Juyeon-ie?”

Oh, how insanely adorable you were to Juyeon right now.

He chuckled before linking his pinky with yours, shaking it left and right slightly as if to seal the agreement. “I promise, we’ll see each other in the office first thing tomorrow morning.”

With the final pinky shake, Juyeon guided you towards the elevator and pressed the button. As you both waited for the elevator to come down to the ground floor, you suddenly broke off the silence, and Juyeon had to blink twice to know he wasn’t hearing things wrong.

“I’ve always liked you Juyeon…even after all these years…I never stopped loving you…” you sobbed.

Your nose was now sniffling, and you closed your eyes to let the tears drip down, not caring what Juyeon would think about all this. You were done trying to hold it back for so long, and you needed to let the burden that you’ve held onto for years finally let loose, and well, you were drunk at this point, so you couldn’t really control the words that slipped out from your mouth.

“Why did you leave me just like that…did you know how much pain it has caused…and how hard I’ve tried to forget every single thing about you? I even threw away all of the pictures and toys we’d had together because the flashbacks of memories would often play in my mind upon seeing them,” you were now crying, and you began to raise your voice a little.

“Why, Juyeon, WHY!!” You screamed at the top of your lungs, and immediately you burst out crying, plopping straight down onto the concrete floor. You hated how the alcohol wasn’t making you think straight and that you were feeling a roller coaster of emotions right now.

Just let it out, Y/N. You’ve suffered long enough—

Immediately, a warm pair of arms wrapped around you, and a hand gently pushed your head down to let you rest on the crook of their neck. You finally glanced up to see that it was Juyeon, holding you tight and resting his chin on the top of your head.

As much as you want to push yourself away from him, you can’t. You couldn’t explain why, and you have even made a pact to yourself that you wouldn’t want anything associated with him anymore.

But why did the saying the heart wants what it wants have to be so accurate?

You hated it, hated how you have always let your emotions take full control over your mind, not making you think straight, and often going against your plans. In fact, your heart ached so badly, and it was the same feeling that you felt seven years ago, right when Juyeon left you alone as he hopped onto his vehicle.

The only thing you could do right now was to let the stream of tears pour down and cry out to your heart’s content. You felt weak, and you could do nothing to push him away.

Juyeon couldn’t blame you, though, because how could he? Especially when he was the one who said nothing all those years ago. Now, he was seeing with his own eyes how much pain and trouble it has cost you, turning you into a vulnerable little petite girl who was crying her heart out in his arms.

With that, he moved his lips down to plant a little kiss on your head and eventually closed his eyes as your cries filled up his eyedrums.

“I’ll make it work, Y/N. I promise you that I’ll make things work this time.”

“Oh, good fucking hell.”

You were sitting on your work desk, bringing your hands to cover up your face. It was an absolute nightmare to hear from your sister about what happened the night before—how you got drunk and caused a little scene in public, which made everyone turn their attention towards you, how Juyeon was the one who brought you all the way back home, how you had a breakdown in front of him to the point you eventually fell asleep after crying your eyes out to the point he had to physically gave you a piggyback up to your front door and assisted your sister to plop you down on your bed.

If there was a nearby cliff near your workplace, you would do anything to ditch work and actually head straight up there to jump off from the embarrassment.

You were already not having a good time reuniting with Juyeon, let alone trying to sort your emotions out while seeing him at work every day and that he was your boss. But to confess your deepest thoughts while being vulnerable and drunk in front of him? That was not written anywhere in your books.

As you were spending your entire lunch break groaning over what happened last night, you immediately received a call from your desk telephone, and you quickly composed yourself before picking the phone up.

“Y-Yes, hello? This is L/N from the editorial department; how may I assist you for the day?”

“Good afternoon, Miss L/N. Please report to the CEO’s office immediately whenever you can.”

Oh, Jesus take the wheel.

The entire walk up to the CEO’s office was nerve-wracking; it was as if you were being sent to detention at the principal’s office because you messed up really badly. So many thoughts ran through your mind, thinking about how to apologise to Juyeon for the scene you had caused the day prior.

Once you walked into his office, you tried your best to devise the best phrase to start the conversation, but it seemed that Juyeon beat you to it, immediately handing you a red ginseng hangover drink.

You reluctantly accepted it while mumbling a soft ‘thank you’ before he insisted that you drink it immediately before him. Once you were done, he took the bottle away and tossed it straight into the bin, directly briefing you about the upcoming fashion show, now only a month away.

Now that it was back to business and you were no longer childhood friends, you tried your best to keep your composure as you listened to all of the details he was going through one by one with you.

Eventually, he decided to bring you along to meet up with one of the CEOs of the high-end brands on a trip to Seoul to discuss the plan in person further. Apparently, you have met with the CEO of Fendi, and it’s one of the brands that have been associated with GQ Korea for decades now. Somehow, Juyeon has gotten pretty close with the famous man himself over the years.

All of you met up in the famous Four Seasons Hotel for a pretty luxurious high-tea session while discussing the whole fashion show. It was mostly just Juyeon conversing with the CEO himself; you were mainly there to take down all the essential notes that both parties spoke.

Usually, it would have been his personal assistant job, but he insisted that you come along this time, saying it was part of your training. To be completely honest, you weren’t sure if Juyeon was the one mixing up between work and personal life issues at this point. All you wanted to do was to pray that this meeting gets over and done with quickly so that you could head back towards the comforts of your cubicle in the office and not face Juyeon for a while.

After an hour or so, it seemed as if the meeting was wrapped, and both parties finally parted ways for now, causing you to head straight back to Juyeon’s vehicle. Many people would think most CEOs would have their chauffeur, but Juyeon insisted that he always preferred to drive alone.

He was still the chatterbox that you have always remembered back in the day, how we would often come up with any possible topic that would keep you entertained; you both could talk for days back then only if both of your families didn’t stop you from heading back home for meal time.

There was only one problem this time: you were still troubled by what had happened the day before, and it was hard enough to even join Juyeon for this meeting with the CEO of Fendi in the first place. Now that both of you were alone in the car, things were far more awkward than they already were. Juyeon never touched on the topic from last night, but still, you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him in the face.

Just when you thought Juyeon was about to take the left turn to head back towards the office, he took the other lane instead and drove towards the opposite direction.

“Juyeon, the office is the other way—”

“Let’s go somewhere, Y/N. Treat this as a little gift of stepping out of office hours for a bit. You’ll still get paid, though; don’t worry. I’ll make sure to inform your head department about your absence.”

What on earth is going through your mind, Juyeon?

It has been a few minutes since you have physically pressed yourself against the tank, slowly admiring various species swimming about minding their own business.

Apparently, you both have arrived at the COEX Aquarium, known for homing a large variety of rare species of aquatic animals and typically the best place for school trips, holidays, and even as a date.

Wait, scratch that last one—

“Didn’t you always say how coming here has been on your bucket list for the longest time?” Juyeon questioned you as he slowly walked up towards where you were from behind, slipping both of his hands into his cloak as he, too, began admiring the beauty in front of him.

That was when you finally diverted your attention to his face for the first time since hopping into his car this morning to head to the hotel. You were upset at yourself with how the feelings were the same as before: his pretty sculpted facial features, how good-looking he actually was, and how he could do the bare minimum, yet you would still swoon over the man himself.

With all that has happened lately, something told you this was more than friend behaviour. Sure, Juyeon might be trying his best to patch up this whole relationship you once had, taking you to places and recreating new memories with one another, but you weren’t sure if Juyeon felt the same way as you did.

That deep feeling within the pit of your stomach made you feel uncomfortable, and it was about time you finally confronted him about the one question that had pondered at the back of your mind for the longest time.

If both of you wanted to continue whatever was happening between you, you needed to get the specific answer first.

And it has to be now.

“Juyeon, can I ask you something?”

He hummed. “Yeah, go ahead.”

With that, you turned your entire body facing him and took a deep breath to figure out the right words to convey your feelings for the man himself. “I meant what I said the night before.”

That alone was enough to get his full attention, as he was now slowly turning himself fully towards you as if he was staring straight into your soul. You wanted to chicken out so badly and tell him it was nothing, and you both could just continue with the silence. But you have already come so far, and you know that this will only continue to haunt you for as long as you live if you aren’t going to address it now.

So you mustered up every bit of courage left within you, and opened your mouth again.

“I never stopped loving you, Juyeon. Even though we have lost contact for so many years, I never once stop thinking about you every single day. As much as I’ve tried so hard to forget about you, hell, I threw everything that reminded me of you into the dumpster or boxes and kept them deep somewhere where I wouldn’t even think about searching for it ever again, but to no avail.”

Your body began to tremble as you tried to calm yourself down by playing with your fingers. “I couldn’t, Juyeon. Every time I thought I have succeeded in getting rid of you from my life for good, the thought of you just somehow finds its way to creep back up in my mind.”

“I have no idea if karma sent me back here to Seoul, especially when my career was doing well in London. Imagine coming back and discovering that my new employer is someone I’ve tried so hard to forget about? The mixed emotions I felt then were insufferable.”

As you began to speak more, tears started welling up in your eyes, causing your heartbeat to rise rapidly. But you decided to press on and choke back on your tears.

“With all that you have done for me for the past weeks and months, I truly have no idea what on earth you are trying to prove to me, Lee Juyeon. Are you trying to fix our broken friendship? Or is it something more? What exactly are you even planning to do, Juyeon?”

Finally, you took a few steps closer until you were inches away from him.

“Be honest with me now, Juyeon. What exactly am I to you?”

There was this tense moment between you two, and neither of you said a word to one another. You were looking straight at your childhood friend with red, puffy eyes, and his eyes were widened, looking at you and trying his best to take in everything you’d said.

Something tells you that it was best not to hear about Juyeon’s opinions at all for the fear of rejection once more. If you had the power to dissect his mind to determine his thoughts and feelings about all of this, you would. Yet, you were still afraid of what might happen next.

As you wait for his response, you slowly examine how his shoulders began to slump, and eventually he tries his best to talk some sense into you.

“Y/N, I—”

“Ah! It’s Juyeon-ie!”

The both of you immediately darted your head towards where the voice was coming from, and that was when you noticed a female running towards Juyeon while waving her hands, and a rather old man accompanied her.

Who could it be?

“Saeran? And Uncle Lee? What are you two doing here?” Juyeon questioned as the two individuals made their way towards you. It was also then they both noticed your presence and the soft-spoken young lady was the one who broke the ice.

“You must be?”

“O-Oh, I umm—”

“She’s Y/N; she used to be my neighbour back in the days when I was still living in Seoul.”

Just a neighbour, huh?

“Ah, Y/N!” The young female extended her hand for a little handshake, in which you awkwardly return the favour. “It’s a pleasure to meet you in person finally! Juyeon has spoken a lot about you.”

Before you could even give a reply, it seemed that the older man whom you now know was his uncle, or rather, perceived that he was the one who managed to help Juyeon get a new start in life back here in Seoul, finally spoke and diverted Juyeon’s attention back to what they were here for in the first place.

“We had made a little appointment this afternoon, don’t you remember, Juyeon?”

“Oh, yes! I’m so sorry. It must’ve completely slipped my mind since I have been pretty caught up with work lately,” Juyeon apologised while slightly bowing towards his uncle.

“Not at all, Juyeon. I’m sure you must’ve been pretty busy with-” his uncle then diverts his attention towards you. “-a lot of things.”

You definitely felt way too uncomfortable at the moment, and you needed to get out of the aquarium right this second if you did not wish to be suffocated by all of the tension in the air.

Immediately, you gently removed your hands from the young female and quickly made a ninety-degree bow towards all of them.

“My humble apologies, it seems that I have disrupted an important meeting. I shall take my leave now.”

As soon as you turned your heel towards the other direction, you suddenly felt a pair of hands grab your wrist, stopping you in your tracks.

“Y/N! Wait, I’ll drive you back—”

“No, it’s fine,” you tried your best to smile at him. “I’ll just take the train located right outside the aquarium. Have a good day.”

You instantly slip your hands off his grip and dash straight towards the front door, trying your best not to look back and ignore the tears dripping down your face as you walk down the steps towards the subway.

It was now week two of cutting off all contact with Juyeon. It hadn’t been easy for you both at work and personally. In fact, you haven’t been doing great at all. It was as if you had turned into a living zombie, often feeling rather emotionless and drowning yourself in paperwork and avoiding contact with another except for your head of department.

Since Juyeon was still your employer and CEO, he has definitely tried all means of contacting you, asking to see if you were doing okay or trying to get you up to his office to talk about the fashion show, or rather, to talk things out. But every single time, you would find ways to decline his request as best as possible while respecting him as your boss first and foremost.

After a week of declining his invitations, his messages and calls eventually stopped coming a week ago; it was as if he had completely vanished for a little while. From what you have heard, it seemed that he had some urgent matters that he had to deal with, causing him to leave the office into the hands of his assistant for now.

It was finally a little breather for you since you didn’t have to put on this facade for the time being, letting you let loose for a bit. Going through sleepless nights throughout the past couple of weeks definitely has taken a toll on your mental well-being.

You told yourself you needed to hold it all in for another week. Once this whole fashion show is done, you will get your well-deserved vacation off work for one week.

It’ll be alright. Things will definitely work out in one way or another, Y/N.

It was finally the day for the long-awaited fashion show hosted by GQ Korea and the collaboration among famous brands around the globe. A swarm of people marched into the rented convention hall, filling the entire space within minutes.

You and your co-workers were busy getting everything organised and ensuring everything was in place. Since you were in the editorial department, you have been going about talking to all of the big figureheads from each respective brand, mostly just breaking the ice as well as interviewing them so that you have your necessary notes to draft out the proposal for the upcoming magazine.

Time passed quickly and it was time for the show to begin. As you sat down on one of the chairs, you made your way towards the far end corners of the hall, getting ready your notepad and trusty blue ballpoint pen.

As the light began to dim, Juyeon eventually made his way up on stage with a microphone, giving the guests a warm welcome and a little opening speech before the models began their runway walk. Seeing the man himself again was a bittersweet moment for you. As much as you wanted nothing more associated with him, your eyes just couldn’t seem to turn away from him.

It did not help that he was dressed up in a black tuxedo, with his hair styled up with his usual one strand on his forehead. He looked strikingly handsome, and you wouldn’t be surprised if he managed to woo almost everyone in the audience tonight. The way he presented himself was truly magnificent, and you could see why he was able to rise to the ranks of being a CEO at such a young age.

Tears began welling up in your eyes again, but you tried your very best to hold them back and mentally cursed at yourself, thinking that this was all professional work now and that there was no room for any personal matters for the night.

Once he made his desired speech, he eventually came down from the stage and sat at one of the front row seats, and that was where you could clearly see that the very same girl from the aquarium sat right next to him, along with his uncle and personal assistant. It shouldn’t bother you since they are practically family to him. It was none of your business, so why couldn’t you take your eyes off them?

Or rather, with him and the young lady who was clearly having fun whispering into each other’s ears.

It has nothing to do with me.

You constantly reminded yourself that whenever you tried to spare a glance at them, all while you were taking down notes from the show. It was definitely a challenge trying to stay focused, and there were a couple of times when you needed to close your eyes for a bit and take a few deep breaths to proceed with your work.

The show finished smoothly, and the audience responded with a standing ovation. You definitely felt a sense of accomplishment from that, too, given that all of your hard work over the past months had finally paid off.

The event wouldn’t have been complete without an after-party, so here you were in the hall next door—with all of the guests, models, and even staff alike having loads of fun chatting about with a glass of champagne in hand. Eventually, the DJ that was hired began to blast out a wide selection of music, indicating that whoever felt comfortable hitting up the dance floor was able to do so.

You smiled as you saw a couple of your close co-workers pull up some moves on the dance floor; it reminded you of loads of your time back in the UK—going to the local pubs and just having the time of your life drinking and partying with your friends.

Just as you were lost in thought, you suddenly felt a little tap on your shoulder, and you turned around to see that Juyeon’s assistant insisted that someone wanted to see you in person.

You didn’t think much of it since you already had a little bit of alcohol in your system, so when you finally realised who was the one who wanted to see you, panic began to rush through your veins, and you tried your best to make sense of the situation.

“Mr Lee? Is something the matter?”

You did not need to see the older male again, especially when he gave you a not-so-good first impression back at the aquarium. However, you had no reason to devise an excuse to leave; he was much superior to you anyway.

“Why, good evening, Miss L/N. I hope you are enjoying the party so far, and congratulations on the job well done. I must say Juyeon always excels in his work, no matter what obstacles he encounters along the way.”

The only thing you could do was flash a little smile back at him, as much as it made you uncomfortable. In the back of your mind, you have dozens of questions running through your mind, thinking about in what manner his uncle has any business with you.

Eventually, he began speaking as if he was chanting through a book, giving you a whole load of information that was a little bit too much to take in at the moment.

“It seems that Seoul life has been too tedious for you, don’t you think? Have you ever wondered about transferring back to London? Perhaps it would be a much better place for you to reside in.”

“Umm, with all due respect, sir, how did you know about my background—”

“Oh, I have always kept an eye on you; you were Juyeon’s childhood friend, after all.”

Keyword. “Were”

“With that being said, I have read a couple of your articles before from the London Mail, and I must say, they are actually quite extraordinary.”

“W-Why, t-thank you, Mr Lee. I really do appreciate them—”

“Speaking of transferring, the CEO for Fendi has actually taken quite a liking to you and your work. Even throughout the whole fashion show back there, he has been talking on and on about you, saying how you would prove to be a fruitful addition to his company.”

Just like that, Mr Lee began to step forward to hand you a little sticky note, which clearly had a number written on it.

“If you ever change your mind, give me a call. Besides, I’m sure you already know the answer deep within your heart. I will be waiting,” Mr Lee responded with a smug before entering back into the hall.

You stared back down at the note and eventually began thinking about what his uncle said prior. Suddenly, you started feeling conflicted, thinking this was the right place to belong. But it could also be his way of trying to brainwash you; you’re pretty sure you felt like a menace in his eyes.

You decided you needed some fresh air to clear your thoughts for a bit, so you headed out towards the balcony right up the stairs. You figured that an open-air rooftop seemed perfect for some alone time.

If only you were the only one who was planning to use the same exact spot that is.

Right when you reached the door that was ajar on the rooftop, you immediately recognised the two people standing before you, the female leaning in to give your childhood friend a peck on the lips.

You stand there motionless, and immediately, your blood starts to boil, something you haven’t felt in a while. The glass of champagne then drops towards the ground, and the shattered noises make the two turn their attention towards you.

It all felt like a sudden pause like time had stopped for a few moments. The both of you were staring deep into each other’s eyes, not knowing what to do or how to respond. But then, Juyeon eventually spoke to break the silence.

Before you could ever hear what he had to say, you were already dashing down the stairs, not caring that you had missed a couple of steps and that there were a few instances where you felt like you were about to trip and fall straight down back where you came from.

Not even wanting to let your co-workers know about anything, you quickly dashed through the front gates, running through the now gloomy skies that were bound to have a heavy downpour within a few minutes.

You should’ve remembered that Juyeon was the basketball team leader back in high school for a reason; no matter how fast you ran through the streets, he eventually caught you and yanked you back towards him, causing you to press up against his chest.

“Let me go! Let me go—”

“Y/N! Please! Let us just talk things out.”

You used up all of your strength and pushed him away as hard as you could before you began raising your voice back at him. “Talk? Don’t be ridiculous. You have done more than enough, and I have seen enough.”

“Y/N, no. You don’t understand—”

“What else do I have to understand!?!? You have done more than enough to shatter me over and over again, Juyeon! And to think I was dumb enough actually to think we could work things out again!” You screamed.

“Y/N…please…just calm down and listen to what I have to say…” Juyeon was now practically begging you, begging you just to stop.

“You clearly don’t understand the pain that I’ve gone through, Juyeon. You weren’t there to witness or experience it anyway! Why did we even become friends in the first place, huh!?!?”

God, cat’s out of the bag.

That last sentence was definitely not meant to be said at all; it was one of your deepest, darkest thoughts that you have sworn that nobody should ever find out about, especially when it is directed towards the person who stood before you.

“I hate you, Juyeon…I really do…for all of the pain that you have caused me…” you were now sobbing like a child, which pained Juyeon so much seeing how you were now.

With that, a loud thunder resonated throughout the city, and a heavy downpour began pouring down from the skies. The both of you were now soaked, and you mustered up the courage to say your final words to him as the tears began mixing with the rain.

“Please…I beg of you…just stop looking for me…or even talk to me at all…just leave me alone…that’s the last thing I will ask of you…”

“I don’t want anything to do with you no more.”

You slowly began backing away, and when you reached a good amount of distance, you turned your heel and began running away into the shadows, not sparing a final glance at your childhood friend who stood at the same spot under the pouring rain.

This is my final goodbye, Juyeon.

If you thought the whole week of you being a walking zombie in the office was terrible enough, clearly, nobody was prepared for the current state that you were in. You locked yourself up in your room and refused to see anybody, even your mother and sister.

You would constantly lay in bed, tossing and turning, even though it was hard to fall asleep. Since you avoided contact with your family members, there was nothing much they could do but place a tray filled with your meals and dishes in front of your door, waiting for you to eventually open up during times when you actually felt hungry and took them into your room to savour them all on your own.

You didn’t need anyone or anything now; you craved alone time and peace.

As you curl up in bed, sometimes even at the corners of your room, your eyes would often dart towards the sticky note handed to you by his uncle. So many times you have thought about it: what if life would’ve been better abroad and coming back to Seoul was truly a grave mistake that you have made? What if this whole decision was actually an awakening moment for you to realise that this is not where you should belong?

Days went back and eventually, it became a week. There were only a few days left before you returned to the office for work. The longer you kept staring at the note, the more motivated you were to take the risk and start again.

Every time you were reminded of what happened that very fateful night, you rationalised that maybe what Mr Lee said was true after all. Perhaps Seoul is really not your place to belong.

As the clock ticked, your desire to leave everything behind felt stronger.

You waited until the clock finally struck noon for you to finally stand up with your phone in hand, punching each number into the dial pad and bringing it to your ear.

Once the ringing eventually got through and you were met with a voice on the other end of the line, you took a deep breath before muttering the words you have been reluctant about all this while.

“I’ll take up the offer.”

“For the very last time sissy, I promise I will be fine,” you spoke through your headphones as you were on a video call with your sister, who was back home at your apartment.

“You have never done something so impulsive before, and given that you made this whole decision during your darkest hours? I highly doubt that you’re okay, Miss Y/N.”

“Well, I can assure you that the darkest hours are gone, and I’m now free and much happier. I can work with Fendi!”

Your sister sighed through the phone. “Working with big brands is one thing; what about your physical and mental well-being?”

“Rome doesn’t sound too bad to me, and besides, living in the UK for a couple of years has definitely given me the experience I’ve needed to survive back in the EU again.”

“Fine. Just…be careful, okay? Give mom and I a call once you’ve touched down.”

You gave a little flying kiss through the phone. “Don’t worry, I will.”

After waving goodbye on both sides, you clicked the red end call button and leaned back onto the chair you had been sitting on for the past hour. It was definitely a shocker to you that Fendi was willing to accept you immediately without having to go through any sort of significant interviews and that they were kind enough to even provide accommodations for you. At the same time, you work for them under a contract of two years. Frankly, it was a good deal and a steal.

You slowly stare into the digital clock on the big screen, which eventually becomes an announcement.

“All passengers bound for Rome, Italy, please head to gate 4B and be ready for boarding!”

Instantly, almost all of the people around you began standing and lining up as if they needed to be the first to get on board. You have always disliked and never understood why the rush and pushing against one another trying to fight for the first slot, so you often just sat back and relaxed until only a couple of folks left to board the plane.

Time went by quickly, and thirty minutes have passed since then. Now, only a handful of passengers are left to board. That was when it was your cue to get up and sling your backpack onto your back.

As you slowly walked towards the counter to let the flight attendants scan your passport and let you through the gates, you felt a sudden tap on your shoulders, causing you to turn behind to see who it was.

You didn’t have much time to respond until you were pulled in for a tight embrace; that familiar cologne was enough to make the tears well up in your eyes again.

“J-Juyeon…” your voice muffled.

“Stop. Let me just…let me do the talking this time. Please.”

You would have definitely fought back and started pushing him away once more, but it seems that you were either too taken aback or lost all of the energy throughout the past week to do so. Instead, you just stood there motionless in his arms.

“Y/N, I know it would be horrible for me to ask for forgiveness because I definitely do not deserve any of that after what I have put you through. Or even for another chance because you clearly gave me one, and it was my fault for not appreciating nor cherishing the moment when it happened,” he began stroking your head, his fingers running through your long, silky, soft hair.

“But one thing is for sure: I will not let you go this time. This time, I am going to hold you so tight that there’s no room for you to escape; I’ll make sure that you will forever be safe and sound in my arms, and I will be the one who is going to bring you joy instead of pain and tears.”

He then bends down to give you a little kiss on your forehead. “You mean a lot to me, Y/N. And I’d like to think you are more than just a friend; you’re my other half. Without you, I wouldn’t be able to move on, knowing that I will lose you again, and this time, forever, if I don’t stop you now.”

“So please, Y/N. I’m begging you. Please don’t go.”

With his final words, you eventually find your arms slowly snaking up his back and returning the hug to him. You weren’t too sure why you did that, especially after the tremendous pain you have gone through the past week in particular. At the end of the day, the phrase where the heart wants what it wants will forever remain faithful to you, whether you like it or not.

You sobbed. “You’re not going to make me stay that easily.”

“Oh yeah? You think I’m not capable of doing that?”

“Prove it then.”

Instantly, one of his hands travelled back up to your chin and lifted them, causing you to look directly towards his as he slowly bent down to interlock his lips with yours. The kiss was rather heated, as if the both of you had been waiting for this to come so badly. You couldn’t care less if you both were actually making out at the airport.

Juyeon cupped your face with both hands as he tilted his head for you to gain more entrance into his. His lips felt soft yet demanding as if you were devouring a forbidden fruit. In return, you run your fingers through his silky black hair.

After a few minutes, you both broke apart for some fresh air, trying your best to catch your breath simultaneously.

“Is that supposed to make me stay put in Seoul, Juyeon?” You teased.

With that, he merely replied with a little smile followed by a smirk. “That, Miss Y/N, was actually a pact you made to me. Treat it as a contract, if you will, that you are bound to stay by my side no matter what.”

“Ugh, that’s so foul of you!”

“You should know that I have my ways; I’m not the CEO of GQ Korea for nothing.”

The both of you eventually burst out into laughter while Juyeon finds both hands on your waist while you wrap your arms around his shoulders.

“Listen, Y/N. I want to apologise on behalf of my uncle and Saeran.”

“Oh, yeah. No big deal. By the way, is Saeran—”

“It’s not what you think it is.”

“It’s not?”

He smiled. “She’s my little cousin, and she often showers me with tons of hugs and kisses, even though I’ve told her to stop a million times.”

“Well, you’re lucky to have a cousin who loves you that much,” you replied.

“Yeah, but she’s going to have to learn that she can’t do that anymore because someone else is going to replace her job for that.”

As much as you knew who he referred to, you still wanted to drag this further. “And who exactly is that?”

“Hmm…maybe the contract before wasn’t clear enough. Should I make another one?”

You slapped his chest immediately. “Don’t you dare, we’re in public.”

Again, another burst of laughter was genuinely beginning to make you feel a lot better, even to the point of slowly healing all the scars you have had before.

With that, you needed to make yourself clear to the man himself.

“Juyeon, can I just be honest with you?”

“Of course, sweetheart.”

“I appreciate you doing all of this for me, but I just want to give you a heads-up that it’ll take a while for me to heal from everything completely and that I’m sorry if I don’t give you the exact treatment that you expect from me, and I—”

You were then silenced with another kiss on the lips; this time, Juyeon took the time to shower you with as many kisses as possible, making sure that each was worthwhile before breaking the kiss again.

“Y/N, I don’t care about all of that. You can take as long as you need, but just know that I will be here for each step you take, and I’ll give you support whenever you need it. I promise. I will not leave you behind ever again.”

As you both plastered a soft smile, you leaned in to rest your forehead against each other, taking in everything that had happened minutes prior.

“Here’s to a new beginning with you.”

masterlist

taglist: @deoboyznet @kflixnet @k-films @flwoie @zzoguri @kyusqult @tinkerbell460 @cheonsafics @sulkygyu @jaerisdiction @lngwayup @daisyvisions (join my permanent taglist here!)

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kmomof4 · 5 months

Text

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thank you all so much for reading!!!

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

Rating: G Total Christmas fluff ahead!!

Words: 7100

On ao3, if that's your preference.

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

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

Under the cut, unless Tumblr ate it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mamamamamamamama,” Hope babbled. “Dadadadadadadada.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~*~*~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~*~*~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She’s right, Regina,” Robin added.

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

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

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

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

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

Emma’s eyes widened, and Regina blushed furiously.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The appellation made Regina dissolve into fresh tears.

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

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

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

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

“Love you, too.”

“Love you, three.”

~*~*~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~*~*~

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

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

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

All except the young boys.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Henry emerged from the melee, shouting at Emma.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Congratulations!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sorry I overreacted,” he said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you mean?”

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

Beverly sighed. “I’d give anything…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

~*~*~

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

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

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

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

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

“When are you due?”

“August 6th,” Mary Margaret said.

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

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

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

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

The End

~*~*~

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

#a swan family christmas #krystal writes #a family affair #art by kit

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lightsoutletsgo · 2 years

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masterlist

here you can find all my works listed by driver! happy reading! key: ᡣ𐭩 - fluff | ✧˖ - smut | ☾ - instagram au/smau | ꕤ - angst

CARLOS SAINZ

good night's sleep (18+) ✧˖ you wake up feeling more than a little needy, luckily your sweet doting boyfriend is there to help

CHARLES LECLERC

the playlist series masterlist ᡣ𐭩 (future✧˖ ) (partially ☾ ) surely travelling the world means you won’t bump into the same person twice right? wrong. everywhere you go, charles is right there and as he keeps appearing in front of you, he keeps appearing in your thoughts and eventually your heart… (or, the one in which your manager is a big F1 fan and decides to plan your world tour to match the F1 calendar and your bandmates like to play cupid) (singer!reader)

bear hugs au masterlist (bearman!oldersister!reader) ᡣ𐭩 ✧˖ ☾ ꕤ step into the world of you and ollie bearman and your boyfriend charles leclerc. a selection of longer fics and shorter drabbles with a sprinkling of social media chapters. the original fic can now be found on the masterlist!

love letters (a two part fic) ☾ ꕤ to ᡣ𐭩dear... (part 1): after you breakup with your boyfriend rather publicly, you struggle to compose your new album, until you hear this mysterious guy's music on spotify... with love from (part 2): it's been a year since you released your breakup album and now everyone is eagerly awaiting your new love songs about your new man

GEORGE RUSSELL

blooming soon!

LANDO NORRIS

tour diaries ᡣ𐭩 ☾ lando is the most supportive boyfriend while you're on your world tour with your band (singer!reader)

red carpet ᡣ𐭩 ☾ lando joins the spoilers club, learning scripts means you take over the apartment and the internet loses their minds over your red carpet look (actress!reader)

LEWIS HAMILTON

blooming soon!

LOGAN SARGEANT

unpacking ✧˖ ᡣ𐭩 moving into your new place with your boyfriend has some interesting consequences when he finds one of his favourite boxes when unpacking

MAX VERSTAPPEN

flowers are a language of their own ᡣ𐭩 ꕤ four times max gives you flowers through your lives and the first time you give them to him (childhood friends to lovers)

girl dad ᡣ𐭩 max verstappen is such a girl dad and everyone knows it, especially you... (snapshots into max's life as a girl dad)

OSCAR PIASTRI

i told the stars about you (royalty au) ᡣ𐭩 ꕤ no matter how much this romance was fated to fall apart from the start, you still find yourself longing to tell the stars about how oscar makes you feel pretty girl (18+) ꕤ ✧˖ everyone needs a reminder when they feel insecure sometimes, luckily oscar knows just what to do to help anxiety gremlin ꕤ ᡣ𐭩 your anxiety gets the best of you and you finally open up to your boyfriend about your diagnosis, he just wants to know how he can help welcome home (18+) ✧˖oscar comes home after a triple header and catches you in a rather compromising position... he might as well take advantage of that, right?

MISCELLANEOUS names they would call their partner (ln.4, op.81, ls.2, cs.55, cl.16, gr.63, lh.44) ᡣ𐭩

DRIVERS I DON'T USUALLY WRITE FOR — unless requested

MARCUS ARMSTRONG

sparks fly ᡣ𐭩 a timeline of your friends to lovers relationship with marcus, based on taylor swift's song "sparks fly"

MICK SCHUMACHER

matcha latte ᡣ𐭩 you're crushing hard on the cute barista at your friend's cafe and he's crushing on you too. the problem? neither of you will admit it (cafe/barista!au)

FELIPE DRUGOVICH

la vie en rose ᡣ𐭩 you perform a song to show your boyfriend just how much he means to you (singer!reader)

PIERRE GASLY

holiday ᡣ𐭩 ☾ snaps from your summer vacation with pierre

home weekends ᡣ𐭩 ✧˖ weekends with pierre are your favourite, they're his favourite too. especially when he gets to wake up to you wearing nothing but his shirt and the marks from the night before

DANIEL RICCIARDO

sunlight ᡣ𐭩 the sunlight marks your favourite times with daniel; dawn, morning, midday, afternoon, sunset

oh, baby! ᡣ𐭩 ☾ you announce your new addition to the world!

#mimi.writes #masterlist #f1 masterlist

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that-gay-guy-from-hell · 1 year

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A Valentine’s to Remember: Dante x Male Reader

Better late than never...

MINORS DNI

SERIOUSLY

SHOO

Summary: Spending Valentine's Day with the youngest son of Sparda. He wants to make sure this year is one to remember.

BEGINNING NOTES: I hope you all enjoy this one. It's now my longest chapter at whopping 8410-ish words. 💝💌💝 💟Just some fluffy stupid Dante things… and smut, of course, lmao. Also, pardon the semi-cringe writing, I don’t really know what people do for this holiday. Also… this is my first time really leaning into the Male reader aspect of things; in Nero’s story, those aspects were just kinda there… This one is pretty heavy-handed; so please bear with me. 💟I also skipped the actual eating part of the date because I am bad at writing that stuff… but I tried to keep the rest semi-realistic?? You’ll see what I mean lmaooo 💟While writing this I realized Nero could've been Valentine’s baby… and that I accidentally H/C-ed DMC 3 to take place during February/March 💟Please check Dante’s H/Cs for what outfit he has; I don’t actually reference it per se but it gives you an idea as to what I was using to write with. I will also explicitly say when he uses his DT; I tend to use the phrase “red devil” to replace his name and I don’t want any confusion. 💟I also figured out why I think Dante uses names that are kinda “southern”--his fucking DMC 4 outfit is semi-country themed lmao. 💌💝💌 💟Fluff & Smut 💟Bottom Male reader x Top Dante: Pre-established relationship. 💟The reader is kinda horny ngl 💟Minor mentions of homophobia. 💟Semi-aggressive Dante; encouraged by the reader--kinda bratty reader. 💟Use of biting/hickeys. 💟Use of a leash/collar; that’s it though--no actual pet play. 💟Minor choking; via collar and leash tugging. 💟Dante giving you a rim job for the first time. 💟Possessive kink. 💟Devil Trigger sex.

A cold chill ran up your spine as you groggily opened your eyes. You slowly groped around on the bed for your personal heater--and boyfriend--Dante. However, his side of the bed was empty and, from how cold the mattress was, he had been gone for some time. A pout and slightly furrowed brow decorated your face as you grumbled. It wasn’t uncommon for you to wake up and Dante to be gone (typically on a job); however, he told you that he was going to have today off. It seems that something must have come up.

You glanced over at the alarm clock ‘11:03’, “Damn it’s early…” you thought to yourself as you rolled over and tried to go back to sleep. However, you were now wide awake and still cold.

With a groan, you got out of bed. The wooden flooring was frigid against your bare feet as you made your way to the door. But, before you could open the door, it swung open--hitting you square in the forehead.

“Shit!” Dante stared wide-eyed at you, “I didn’t know you were-- you okay?”

You shook your head attempting to ignore the quickly growing headache, “I’m fine,” you looked up at the red devil, “Thought you had left for the day; why you up so early?”

Your lover smiled goofily, “You know what today is?”

“Tuesday?” you were still groggy as you gave Dante a perplexed look.

“Mhm…” Dante was staring at you; implying there is more.

With a slow blink, you rummaged through your still-tired thoughts; what were you missing?

Your lover began to pout, “You really don’t know?”

With a shake of your head, you scratched your jaw, “I got nothin’.”

“It’s Valentine’s Day!” Dante grabbed you and pulled you into a tight hug.

You lightly wrapped your arms around your lover, “Mmm, that’s why you’re up at the ass-crack of dawn?”

“What can I say,” Dante rubbed his cheek against the top of your head, “I wanted today to be perfect for my special guy.”

A loving smile spread across your face as you heard Dante begin to quietly purr, “You didn’t have to do anything for me… Although it is really sweet of you.”

�� Dante stood back with his hands on your shoulders, “Of course, I had to! Gives me a reason to take you out on the town and show you off,” he winked with a wide grin.

You snorted a tired laugh, “That’s cute, Dante,” you moved one of your hands to cup his cheek and stared into his eyes, “How did I get so lucky, hm? My cute lil’ devil~” Dante’s eyes closed as he leaned into your touch; his purring getting noticeably louder.

The red devil opened his eyes and gently leaned in to kiss your forehead. He opened his mouth as if he were going to speak before the ringing of the shop's phone stopped him, “Damn it- I have to get that, meet me downstairs?”

“Sure,” you smiled at him as he left the doorway. With that, you continued to your original destination; the bathroom.

After you finished your typical morning routine, you sauntered down the stairs of the DMC. Dante was sitting at his desk and was still on the phone.

“Yes but-- You see-- We--” Dante noticed your presence and shook his head, “I have to go. I’ll call back tomorrow during operating hours, thanks for choosing Devil May Cry!” he hung up the phone before the caller could respond. Dante let out an exaggerated groan and leaned back in his chair.

You laughed and sat on the edge of his desk, “Thought we were closed today?”

“That’s what I told ‘em, but of course, people never fuckin’ listen.”

With a small laugh, you got up. After you moved behind the desk, you yanked out the cord from the phone, “Taking a note from your book.”

Dante smiled and grabbed your wrists to pull you onto his lap, “Well, I’m glad I taught you somethin’.”

“Well,” you set your head on his shoulder and whispered into his ear, “There’re other things you’ve taught me too…” you felt Dante shiver as you gently bit his earlobe.

“Mmm, aren’t you fired up,” he ran his hands down your sides, settling on your hips, “but I’ve got other things in mind first,” Dante’s teeth gently grazed your neck as he gently kissed your soft skin, “you'll have to wait till later.”

You clicked your tongue in slight disappointment, "You have a brain aneurysm or something? Since when do you not want sex?"

“Come on,” he gently rubbed his thumbs against your legs, “I promise it’ll be worth the wait~”

You pulled back to look at his face and saw him smirking slightly, “Ooo now I’m curious as to what my devil’s got planned,” your fingers slowly groped up his arms and to his shoulders where you let them rest.

He laughed and smiled widely, “I made sure that this will be the best Valentine’s you ever had.”

“I quite enjoyed last year,” you unconsciously bit your lip as you remembered last year. How Dante’s rut lined up with the holiday and left you unable to walk for several days.

“Heh, well you’ve still got to look forward to that in the coming months-” he placed one of his hands on your chest, “Today we are focusing on this.”

“My tits? You gonna like motorboat me or some shit?”

“What-- No, I--”

You snorted, “I’m fucking with you, Dante,” you placed your hand on top of his, “It’s weird seeing you act so romantic .”

“Oh just you wait,” Dante’s eyes closed as he gave a toothy grin, “It’ll be a night to remember.”

Seeing how sincere he was brought a warm fluttery feeling to your heart, “Well, what’s the plan then?”

“What time is it?”

“Well,” a small laugh left your lips as you looked at the clock up on the wall behind Dante, “It’s still 9:04 AM, the same time it’s been for a few weeks now.”

The younger twin sighed, “I keep forgetting to fix that…”

“When I got up,” you ran your fingers through Dante’s hair, “It was like eleven, so probably like eleven-thirty by now..?”

“Mmn,” Dante leaned his head onto your chest, wanting you to continue petting him, “Well I have to stop by Vergil and Nero… So we’d be leaving around four?”

“Want me to come with you?” you added your other hand to his hair.

Dante began to purr slightly, “Nah, I’m just dropping off some job stuff.”

The two of you sat together for a few minutes. While you were gently running your fingers through his locks, he pulled you as close as he could. His hands firmly rested on your lower back and his face was nuzzling into your chest; enjoying the affection.

However, this was short-lived as Dante’s cell phone began to ring. The red devil grumbled and released his hold on you, allowing you to stand up. With a huff, he grabbed the device off his desk; answering it.

You wandered over to the fridge and grabbed a drink.

As you sat on the edge of his desk once more, you saw that Dante was already off the phone, “That was quick,” you raised a brow, “Nero? Or Vergil?”

Dante stood up, “The kid, asked when I was coming; ‘pparently he’s got plans for today.”

A smile found its way to your face, “Ooo how cute-- wait,” you cocked your head to the side, “since when does Nero have a partner?”

The red devil laughed, “Nero doesn’t have one,” he sighed softly, “he’s spending the day with his old man; since neither of them has company.”

“Really--” you shook your head in disbelief, “That’s actually kinda cute.”

“It was part of the reason I was dropping this shit off, rather than just letting them see it tomorrow,” he looked over at the photo of Eva on his desk, “figure I should at least see them; especially Verge.”

“Aw,” you couldn’t help but laugh a bit, “Now that's adorable,” it was then that you noticed Dante looking over at his mother’s photo, “your parents would be happy to see you three getting along.”

Dante nodded and spoke softly, “Yeah,” he moved his eyes to you and returned to his usual boisterous tone, “I should probably get going; you okay with sittin’ tight for a bit?” he slid on his coat that had been tossed over the back of his chair. Then moved to stand in front of you and held your hands in his.

“Sure, gives me time to get all prettied up for you,” you winked with a sly grin.

“I think you look good just like that, darlin’,” he leaned in and kissed your forehead, and placed his head atop yours.

You pursed your lips and stifled a laugh, “I am not going out in my sleepwear…” you looked down at your shirt. It was an old ratty black t-shirt that you had “borrowed” from your devilish lover… not to mention that you were without pants, as well.

He leaned back just enough to see your face, “Why not? You look good like this.”

“Dante,” you shook your head, “If we are going out, pretty sure I need pants.”

The younger twin just stared into your eyes, fighting an obviously perverse comment.

“Cat got your tongue?” you teased, egging him on.

A small huff left Dante’s nose, “You really are gorgeous, you know that?” his voice was sweet but had an impure feeling laced behind it.

“You’re not too bad yourself,” you leaned in brushing your lips against his, “my handsome legendary hunter.”

Dante smiled as he intertwined himself with your lips. These kisses were slow and sweet. Dante let out a breathy laugh upon feeling you pull him in by his coat, deepening the kiss. His hands held the sides of your hips and he gave you small kitten licks upon your lips; asking for you to open your mouth.

A part of you wanted to play hard-to-get and not let him in; however, before you could even decide, Dante had pushed his tongue within the confines of your mouth. While he might not be the most experienced kisser out there, Dante sure as hell knew how to use his split tongue to his advantage.

The red devil explored every inch of your cavern. A quiet groan left your lips as he played with your tongue. You were running out of breath, so you tried to leave the kiss but Dante had other plans. He pushed his lips against yours harder, letting out a small rumbling moan.

His fingertips began to dig into your hip's soft flesh, surely bound to leave loving bruises. You were beginning to feel light-headed as you gently pushed against his chest, trying to separate from the kiss. Dante allowed you to leave the kiss and moved to kiss your jawline. You took in a loud large breath.

Dante’s kisses began to wander down your neck and to your shoulder. All the while, he began to lean you backwards onto the desk. He began to nibble against your skin, not quite hard enough to leave marks but enough that you could feel it. You wrapped your legs around his waist and ran your hands along his back, kneading as hard as you could against his strong back.

“Ngh, Dante~” you squirmed under his weight.

The red devil stopped his small bites and moved back to your lips, continuing his slow sloppy kisses from earlier. Once satisfied with how aroused he got you, he leaned back up and gave you a sly devilish grin.

He slowly eyed you up and down before speaking, “We’ll have to save the rest for later,” he winked.

With a pout, you removed your legs from his body, “You fucker…”

“Mm not right now,” he helped you sit upright, “I will be later though.”

You rolled your eyes, “You really are mean, you know that?”

Dante’s grin turned wider as he patted the top of your head, “You're the one who decided to date a devil--not the smartest choice."

"Oh trust me, the perks outweigh the cons," you sighed and reached forward to fix his coat, “You best hurry along-- Don’t need Nero killing you on Valentine’s.”

“I’ll be back soon, okay?” he leaned forward and kissed you on the top of the head, “Then it’s date time.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his beaming face, “I can’t wait.”

With that, Dante turned to leave; grabbing his phone from the desk and waltzing out the front door.

4 o'clock quickly came and went; it was now approaching 6 pm and you were starting to get concerned. It was quite common for Dante to get carried away with talking and just overall enjoying spending time with others, but you figured that he would’ve been back by now. Dante spending time with his family (especially Vergil) without fighting is a rarity, so you did your best to leave him be--only texting him a few times to figure out what was going on and if he was okay. A part of you wanted to call him but you figured that would be too much.

You’d been waiting on the couch for nearly an hour. A loud exasperated sigh left your lips as you leaned forward. You had showered and gotten all dressed up for your date and were getting uncomfortable in your "fancy" clothes. Not having anything better to do, you decided to see if the jukebox was going to work today. You selected a track, “Devils Never Cry” (one of Dante’s favorites), and were pleasantly surprised when it worked.

With that, you then grabbed some darts from the desk and began to half-ass through them at the board. You were bored enough that you challenged yourself to a game of 501; keeping track of two amounts at once.

“Fucking-- Where are you, Dante?!” you growled as you yanked the darts from the board, finishing your third game, “That’s it,” you pulled out your phone and called him.

No answer.

You tried again.

Still nothing.

With an irritated click of your tongue, you decided to shoot Nero a text; asking if he can send Dante back.

Surprisingly, Nero responded pretty quickly saying, “Dante left like an hour ago? He’s not back?”

You went pale and nearly dropped your phone at the sound of your ringtone. It was Nero.

The moment you answered, Nero spoke, “Hey, Dante’s still not back?”

“I haven’t seen him since he left earlier,” you felt a sinking fearful feeling settle in your gut, “I’m kinda starting to worry.”

Before Nero responded, someone else (presumably Vergil) yelled something at Nero that you couldn’t make out. Then the teal devil returned to your call, “Vergil said that Dante was stopping somewhere on the way back; whatever that means…”

With a heavy sigh, you mumbled, “Alright- I guess I’ll give him a bit longer. Thanks, Nero.”

You went to hang up but heard him yell, “Hey wait--”

“Hm?” you put the phone back to your ear.

“Let me know if like, he’s not home soon-- Vergil and I can go find him.”

A small smile tugged at the corner of your lips, “Sure, can do.”

“Well… Take care and uh… Happy Valentine’s…”

“Mhm, you too Nero,” you both hung up.

Another fifteen minutes passed and you were slowly nodding off on Dante’s desk; leaning forward in his chair and your face on the tabletop.

You had thought about what Vergil could’ve meant, “Dante probably stopped by Lady and Trish,” you sighed through your nose.

Despite knowing how stupid it was, you couldn’t help but feel a bit jealous about the three’s friendship. When you first joined the DMC, you thought they were in a poly-relationship with each other; only to find out that they were just work partners.

A quiet distant bitter thought pricked at the edges of your mind, “Maybe he decided to spend the holiday with them instead…” your brow furrowed at the thought, “He seemed so excited this morning…”

Another sigh left your nose as you tried to focus on the now jukebox’s music to drown out those toxic thoughts. That’s when you heard the front door open.

“Hey sunshine, I’m back!” a loud happy voice called.

However, you didn’t look up and just stayed with your head down on the desk, grumbling in response, “Welcome back.”

You could hear Dante’s pout as he walked over to the desk, “I know, I know… I didn’t mean to be gone that long, I’m sorry,” he placed a hand lightly on your head.

“Where have you been,” you picked up your head to look at him, “I was getting worried…”

He avoided your gaze, “Well… I stopped at Vergil and Nero’s and chatted for a while. I would’ve been home sooner, but,” he sighed and had a dejected look on his face, “I called to double-check some reservations that I swear to God that I made; like I even called Vergil cause I know that I told him and the fucking place said that I didn't and I--”

You grabbed his hand, “Hey, Hey-- Dante, slow down.”

“Shit, sorry,” he took a deep breath and let out an even louder sigh than before, “I made reservations for us to go to one of those fancy restaurants where you get to watch like a musical or some shit while you eat and… and when I called to double-check the time, they said they have no record of my reservation. So I went there and tried to talk to someone in person and they said without a receipt we can't help you… then I asked if there were any open seats at any time and they said no and I just…” his voice trailed off.

“Oh…” you didn’t know how to respond. Dante was a lot angrier about this than he was letting on; signified by his hand being so hot that you had to let go of it.

“I’m sorry, babe,” his eyes were filled with a pang of deep sadness as he looked at you with a frown.

“Hey,” you stood up and walked over to the front of the desk, standing in front of him, “It’s okay, it’s not your fault,” you gently hugged him, “It’s the thought that counts and besides,” you felt him wrap his arms around you and purr slightly, “I’ve still got the best Valentine I could ask for.”

Dante took a slow breath and leaned further into the hug, speaking in a hushed whisper, “I wanted this year to be special…”

“We can still go out,” you smiled, “Isn’t that pizza parlor that knows you by name open today? We could go there.”

A small huff of a laugh left Dante’s lips as he began to unconsciously knead his hands against your shoulder blades, “You sure you’d be okay with that? It’s not exactly fine dining .”

You stood back a bit so you could look at him, “I’m sure, plus,” your smile widened, “We don't have to mingle with those rich assholes.”

Dante laughed and looked down at you, “Good point… shall we then?”

“Of course, lead the way, legendary devil hunter,” you winked at him as he shook his head.

You quickly sent Nero a text that said Dante returned safe and sound. Then turned off the lights and grabbed your coat. With a laugh and wide smiles, the two of you headed out.

Both of you waved goodbye at the parlor workers as they yelled their goodbyes. Once out the door, Dante grabbed your hand and intertwined your fingers with his. The two of you decided to take a small detour on the way home and walk through the park. As the two of you began to move down the sidewalk, you thought about how Dante is the only person that the parlor called by name.

You laughed, “I still can’t believe they know you by name, it surprises me every time.”

“Been ordering there since it opened,” Dante awkwardly smiled, “I know that I had a pretty lengthy tab open there at one point.”

You did a double-take, “Since when do restaurants do that?”

“Well,” Dante sighed and shook his head, “I was a regular before the whole Vergil thing when we were younger, so when I came back all sorts of uh… messed up; Pop’s let me open a tab.”

You looked over at Dante, “Oh-- I- I’m sorry, I didn’t--”

“Don’t worry about it,” he looked over to you, "Vergil and I talked about… things today… As horrible as all of it was… at least we got Nero out of it; so there's a thin silver lining to it."

"Oh?" you thought for a moment, "I can't imagine you two talking things through," you smiled at the thought, "It really is the best Valentine’s ever."

"Yeah, it was pretty funny though," Dante laughed to himself, "I made fun of Vergil for making Nero on Valentine’s, which Verge didn't care about but Nero? Fuck- the kid damn near killed me."

Your voice was laced with heavy sarcasm as you snorted a laugh, "I wonder why."

The two of you continued towards the park in comfortable silence. As you did, you found yourself wandering in your thoughts.

It wasn't often that the two of you went out on a date; demons never sleep which means the hunt is never truly over. When you do get a brief moment of slice and get to go out, you always become hyper-aware of how Dante was leagues above you.

You always notice how the majority of people check Dante out--some have even asked him out with you right next to him. Dante obviously declined their advances every time by showing you some hardcore PDA. A smile tugged at your lips at the thought; of how Dante is yours and you are his.

The two of you entered the park. It was a small nature walk-type place, that doubled as a bird reserve.

"You know, if I remember correctly" Dante’s eyes creased as he smiled, "our first date was here in the park."

Your face mimicked his with a large smile, "It was… I'm also pretty sure that we got attacked by some stray demons during that date, too."

"Ye-p!" Dante laughed and stopped turning to you, "Still the best date of my life."

Playfully, you hit his chest, "I got tossed around like a sack of potatoes and broke my fuckin arm."

He moved his hands to the small of your back, "Gave me an excuse to spend more time with you."

You rolled your eyes and laughed. Your hands found their way to his chest and grabbed his coat gently, "You mean 'mother hen' me for a week?"

"I did not…"

"Dante, you tried to join me in the bathroom because you were scared I'd hurt myself…"

The red devil pouted slightly, "You could've!" he pulled you into a hug.

"It'll be a cold day in Hell when I need help in the bathroom from being injured," you sighed contently, "besides that part, it was pretty nice… Plus, with me being injured we were alone. Just you and me with the whole shop to ourselves for nearly a week…"

"Yeah…" Dante began to purr softly, "We have it to ourselves again--for tonight at least."

You raised a brow, "Vergil staying with Nero?"

Dante nodded, "Mhm, I asked him to…"

"You didn't have to," you looked up at him, "but at least now we don't have a curfew…"

Dante laughed, "Well--" he stopped. You felt his body stiffen and look around.

"Dante?" you let go of the hug, thinking that you'd jinxed yourself about being attacked.

However, all you saw were a few other couples and some birds. It seemed like Dante was staring at one of the couples in particular. Confused, you went to ask him what was up when you heard his throat bubble up a small snarl.

"Hey," you grabbed his arm, "everything okay?"

Dante looked down at you and then back at the couple, "Fucking assholes…"

“What?” your brow furrowed harshly, “You know them?”

His lip twitched as he spoke, his gaze not leaving the pair, “No.”

“Okay-y..?” your grip tightened on his arm, “Then what is it?”

Dante turned to you, “Kiss me.”

“... What?”

“You heard me, kiss me. ”

Although you were confused, you shrugged and leaned into Dante. Your lover grabbed you with both his hands and pulled you as close as he could. The kiss was as aggressive as it was passionate. The red devil’s lips were burning--damn near literally--and the growling had only intensified.

You raised your brow in surprise and made a small gasp as Dante began to lean you back. Seizing the opportunity, he pushed his tongue into your mouth. Only once you were dizzy from lack of air, did Dante break off the kiss.

However, he kept you leaning back and had his forehead against yours. His turquoise eyes stared into yours as you noticed one of his ears twitch from the corner of your eye.

Whispering, you spoke, “You hear something?”

With a volume matching yours, Dante nuzzled his nose against yours, “Yeah, don’t worry about it; I made my point…”

That’s when you looked over to the pair that Dante had been glaring at before; they were leaving. Dante leaned you back up and pulled you into a tight embrace.

“What did they say?” you heard his growling begin to turn into purring.

“Just some fucking stupid shit,” he shook his head and grumbled quietly, “Why does it matter who’s in my bed, huh?”

“Ah…” you sighed. Although it was always deserved, Dante had gotten into fights with people over them saying homophobic things about the two of you, thankfully tonight he opted for love rather than violence. You turned to look up at him, resting the underside of your chin on his chest, “You know, I wouldn’t mind being in your bed right about now~” you gave him a wink and you felt his chest vibrate as he laughed quietly.

He looked down at you from the bottom of his eyes, “Good thing the shop’s empty,” Dante let go of the hug and, before you could react, swept you up off your feet; holding you from under the thighs. His voice was barely audible as he leaned into your ear, “cause I’m gonna have you screaming by the end of tonight.”

Your face turned bright red and with a shaky voice, you whispered back, “Mhm, sure you are; good luck with that, Dante.”

Dante chuckled darkly at your response, “I won't stop till you do, darlin’. ”

A shiver ran up your spine, which he noticed and smirked at you. Dante carried you the rest of the way to the shop--totally not speed-walking and excited to get home.

Once in the door, all restraint was gone. Dante slammed your back against the wall right inside the doorway and began to make out with you; doing his best to lock the door in the process. Your hands made quick work of his coat, tossing it to the floor, and began to tug at his shirt. He smirked at your eagerness and moved to allow you to take off his fabric confines.

A small groan left his lips as you groped at his arms and chest. He moved you two to the desk, placing your back against the wood. Despite your willingness to remove your clothing, Dante decided to rip off your shirt; shredding it to ribbons. Before you could tell him off for ruining another one of your shirts, he moved to bite down on your chest, “Fuck~!” you bit your lip attempting to stifle your moan.

You arched your back as he bit down harder and harshly grabbed generous handfuls of your ass. Once he was satisfied with the first bite, he moved to bite the other side--biting down even harder.

Not expecting him to pierce your flesh, you jerked your hips and pursed your lips to hold back another moan.

He released his teeth’s grip on your skin and gently placed kitten licks against the bleeding loving mark. Then he moved to kiss up your neck and whispered in a low husky voice, “You really are gonna play that game, hm?” he tugged your earlobe a bit.

“Mhm,” you heard him make a faint growling grumble at your response.

“Fine, have it your way…” Dante picked you up and took you up to the bedroom.

Standing a few feet away, he tossed you on the bed; making you bounce. Dante slid off his boots and yanked your shoes off before pinning you underneath him again, “Sure you wanna play this game, darlin’?” his eyes were emanating a low fiery orange and his pupils were already slits.

“You want me to scream, Dante?” you grabbed his arms and looked him dead in the eyes, “ Then make me. ”

He shifted his jaw to the side while eyeing you up and down before grinning slightly.

Dante reconnected with your lips and leaned his hips into yours; grinding your matching tents together. Your fingers were pressed against his body as you slid your hands down to his belt. A grumble left your lips as you struggled with his belt buckle; making him chuckle. Dante leaned upward and undid the belt for you. Before you were able to move and get a taste of the devil’s flesh, he grabbed your hands and tied them with his belt.

“There,” he smirked as you pouted slightly, “Sit still and be a good boy for me..?”

“Since when do you not want head--” you inhaled sharply as you felt Dante’s burning palm against your clothed cock.

“Tonight…” with a swift movement he tore your pants from your body, “is all about you,” he kissed your lips gently.

His hands massaged the sides of your hips as he slowly slid down to kneel before you.

“Wait,” you pulled your hips away from him slightly, “Dante--as much as I love you--last time you tried to… you kinda,” you winced at the memory.

Dante stood up, pursed his lips, and mumbled, “Fair, I don’t wanna make your dick bleed…”

“So,” you motioned with your hands, “Allow me..?”

“No, change of plans,” he picked you up and flipped you onto your stomach.

“Dante--” you felt his hand gently palm your ass.

“Hm?” he noticed your sudden apprehension.

“If… If you’re going to try what I think you are… Can I at least like,” you were beyond embarrassed as you sighed, “like freshen up?”

You looked over your shoulder and saw him tilt his head slightly, clearly confused.

“Just,” you stood up and held your hands out, “please? It’ll only take a minute.”

“Sure..?” he undid the makeshift restraint, still a bit confused (bless his innocent dumbass).

With a small smile, you placed a gentle kiss on his cheek and quickly went to wash up in the bathroom.

Dante used this small downtime to try and find lube; since he may have tossed it somewhere during your last loving session.

“Bingo,” Dante bent down and grabbed it from a pile of discarded clothing in the corner. The red devil went over to the bedside table, placing it down for later.

Hearing you re-enter the room, Dante moved over to you, “So…” he smiled, “You good..?”

You nodded and pursed your lips, “You sure you’re okay with doing that? I--”

“Of course I am…” the red devil placed his hands on your shoulders, “It’ll be fun,” he winked.

With an audible swallow, you nodded, “Okay.”

“Now, where were we~?” Dante moved his hands down your body and leaned into you.

The two of you exchanged kisses once more. You pulled off his gloves and got Dante to drop his pants; leaving him in his rose-patterned boxers. All the while, the two of you meandered over to the bed. Once there, Dante broke off the kiss and grabbed the belt off the bed. With a smirk, you turned around and placed your hands behind you rather than in front like before; curious to see if he would try it. Which he did; however, you didn’t expect him to tie your forearms together.

Once you were nice and comfortably tied, Dante picked you up and tossed you face down into the bedding. You trembled as you felt his fingers glide up your back as he leaned over your back.

His hot breath tickled your ear as he ground himself lightly against you, “You drive me nuts, you know that?”

You smiled as you felt him kiss the nape of your neck, “Do I now?”

With his voice barely audible, Dante whispered against your shoulder, “More than anything, sugar,” his sharp teeth bit down into your shoulder as he ground his hips against yours.

A loud exhale came from your nose as you managed to keep quiet, much to the red devil’s dismay. Slowly, he kissed down your spine; stopping every once in a while to leave a hickey or bite mark. You felt his breath against the small of your back causing you to shiver.

He stood up and slid his fingers into your underwear. The red devil bit his lip as he freed you from your final bit of clothing. A sharp gasp left your mouth as he hit your ass with his palm. You shook your head and did your best to stifle any other noises while he harshly groped and played with your ass.

Dante grunted a bit, “You really are playing hardball tonight, huh?” you looked over your shoulder at him and he smiled, “Alright, fine…” you saw him open the side table drawer as your breath hitched.

The red devil leaned over you and used your tied arms to pull your body upwards. A thick maroon leather collar got wrapped around your neck. Dante smirked as he tightened it enough to give you a small buzz, then loosened it--clasping it shut. A shiver ran up your spine as you heard the click from the leash’s clip being used.

“Ass up,” he tugged on the leash, “Now.”.

Despite his confident words; Dante’s leash pull was far from anything more than a suggestion. The two of you tried out the collar a few times--which, for the record, was Dante’s idea to try--but every time, he always is too nice…

You decided that was going to change tonight, “ No. ”

Dante froze and squinted at you. He pulled the leash again and this time he pulled hard enough to yank your head back, “Move,” his voice was laced with a small growl, making you quiver with excitement.

A sly smirk tugged at your lips as you compiled, moving to rest in a downward dog position.

“Good boy,” Dante released some tension on the lead and placed a kiss on your ass.

His lips were hot as they placed kisses on your lower back and butt. A part of you wanted to beg him to hurry up, but you knew that’s what he was trying to get you to do; so you remained quiet. Dante’s teeth gently grazed your soft flesh as he used his free hand to grab a generous handful of the other cheek.

You did your best to relax, even though your body was twitching and aching for attention. A quiet groan left your mouth as you felt him spread your flesh apart. Dante bit his lip and felt a shiver go down his spine.

He ran his tongue along your crack, making you lurch forward slightly; which, in turn, made you pull against the leash--making you moan. You could feel Dante smirk at your reaction as he continued his ministrations. His body and mouth were burning hot as he pushed further against your ass.

A small grimace found its way to your face as you did your best to stay quiet, but goddamn Dante was making it hard.

His tongue was moving against two different spots of your rim; courtesy of his two-way split. Along with that, he used his free hand to gently and carefully stroke your cock. Dante moved from your hole to the flesh of your right cheek, giving you a hickey on the sensitive skin.

Through gritted teeth, you moaned, “Dante, fuck~”

You felt his hot breath wash over your ass as he smiled, “Does it feel good?”

“Yeah,” your voice trembled as you responded, slowly losing your will to stay quiet.

“Good,” he placed a kiss on the newly formed bruise, “That’s what I want to hear.”

Dante moved back to your crack as he ran his tongue along it and used his nose as well. His stubble tickled at the skin of your body making you quiver. He returned to his earlier treatment of your needy hole; however, this time, he moved his tongue faster against the sensitive folds.

“Ngh,” your breath was heavy as you tried to stay composed, “God~”

Once satisfied with the results, Dante moved to the left cheek and gave it the same treatment as the other side; leaving a loving mark.

He pulled back on the leash, “Up.”

You sat upwards, sitting on your calves.

Dante placed kisses along your neck and held your body snug to his; grinding his still-clothed cock against your back. His free hand ghosted around your lower abdomen; not quite reconnecting with your aching dick. You grumbled something too quiet for Dante to hear.

“Gotta speak up, baby,” he sunk his teeth into a new spot on your neck.

“Fuck~!” your head leaned back.

He smirked and proceeded to create another one and then another; enjoying the sounds of his victory.

With a jerk of your hips, you let out an unrestrained moan, “Dante, please~”

“Please what, darlin’?” Dante kissed your jawline.

“I yield, just,” you felt his cock twitch against your back, “please!”

“Gotta be more specific baby,” he placed tepid kisses along your bitten-up neck and shoulder.

“Please, just… fuck me,” your voice was strained and you wriggled against your restraints.

He stopped his kisses and you could feel him smile against your skin, “Since you asked so nicely…” A surprised squeak left your lips as he pushed you forwards, putting you back face down into the bed. Dante reached for the bottle of lube he had placed on the side table, opening it.

He released his hold on the leash as he moved to take off his final bit of clothing. Quickly, he used his dexterous fingers to stretch you out enough for his cock; seems like he was just as excited as you.

“You ready?” Dante grabbed the leash again.

You nodded.

Dante yanked on the leash, “Didn’t quite hear you.”

“Y-yes s-sir,” you sputtered at the sudden quick squeeze from the leather on your throat.

“Good boy…”

The red devil bit his lip as he positioned his dick with your entrance, teasing you with his tip.

After a minute, you broke, “Please, Dante,” you desperately groaned, “fuck me- I need you.”

He let out a low breathy chuckle. Seeing you so desperate for him made him want to annihilate your body; to shove himself inside you, taking him all the way down to the hilt, and watch you struggle to adjust. Dante bit his lip at the thought as he grabbed your hips tightly. A strangled snarl left his lips as he fought the urge to ram you and slowly inched his way inside your hole.

You groaned at the feeling of his thick cock stretching your insides. This part was always the hardest; between trying to take him in and having to wait for your body to adjust, it was excruciating. Getting impatient, Dante pushed the remaining few inches inside you.

“Fuck-!” you gritted your teeth and let out a shaky breath, “Dante, just…” your breath was heavy, “give me a minute…”

He bit his lip and spoke with a low husky growl, “Yeah…” his breath was heavy as he fought with himself to stay composed.

After a minute, you rocked your hips back into Dante’s. The red devil smiled as he moved in slow short increments before pulling out to the tip and slamming back into your hips; jolting you forward slightly.

You gave a sputtering moan in response; which only encouraged him to do it again. Dante’s pace was hard and fast, pushing you forward with every brutal thrust of his hips. Trying to keep yourself at a respectable volume, you buried your face into the bedding; which Dante did not like. He yanked on the leash making you arch your head upwards, allowing him to hear every sound you made.

With a distorted growl of a voice, Dante smugly commented, “I want to hear you submit."

A shiver ran down your spine at the sound of his voice; knowing exactly what that tone means. As quick as the thought came, it disappeared at him changing his pattern. His movement became short and hard, you knew Dante was getting close.

"Dante," you groaned and he pulled you up by the leash and your arms, making you sit on his lap, "Ngh~ Dante, please," you ground your hips against him, making him groan in return.

His mouth gently placed kisses along your neck and shoulders as he picked up the pace again. Dante held you by your restrained arms and leaned you forward a bit. You jerked your hips as he managed to hit what he was aiming for--your prostate.

He released the leash and leaned forwards into you, keeping his dick at the right angle. A warm calloused hand found its way to your dick and began to gently stroke your cock, using your precum as a lubricant.

You knocked your head back into his shoulder as he wrapped his other arm around your middle, holding you close, “Ah, Dante~” you felt him sink his teeth into your shoulder once more, “Please~”

All you got in response was an unintelligible growl.

After a few more uneven thrusts, Dante came inside your ass, “Fuck~!” your legs and hips twitched as you orgasmed.

With slow movements, he rode out both of your climaxes and released his bite. His breathing was uneven as he laid his head against the side of yours, saying various forms of “I love you”.

Once you stopped twitching, Dante removed his cock and let go of your arms; allowing you to lay back down. You felt him undo the belt on your arms allowing you to move them, finally.

Dante helped turn you over and laid atop you and unclipped the leash--tossing it to the side. He was purring slightly; however, you noticed an odd feeling down towards your hips.

Your voice was hoarse as you spoke, “Dante..?”

“Hm,” he nuzzled his face into your chest, his skin still hot as burning coals.

A shaky breath left your lips as you swallowed nervously, “You’re still hard?”

Dante moved his head to look you in the eyes, which you noticed were still his Devil Trigger color, “Don’t worry about it, I’ll take care of it.”

You weakly groped at his biceps, “I can go another round; it is Valentine’s after all…”

This comment made Dante move to prop himself up on his palms that were placed on each side of you, “You… you sure? I don’t want to overdo… you .”

A soft smile tugged at your lips, “Of course, devil-boy,” you winked, “show me what you’ve got.”

Dante sloppily kissed your lips as your hands moved from his arms to his hair. You knew that playing with his hair was a surefire way to get him riled up and today was no exception.

Your lover broke off the kiss and stared you in the eyes, “Last chance, babe. I won’t hold it--”

Lovingly you pulled his hair, making his lip twitch with a growl.

He sat upright on his knees and allowed himself to let go. Seeing him trigger was always a treat, the bright red flash and the sudden increase in heat is as arousing as it is terrifying. You stared at him with your lips parted slightly and reached to run your hands along his middle; eyeing him slowly down to his exposed grey and orange cock.

The red devil leaned back over you, “Like what you see?” he smiled, revealing his sharpened teeth and spreading his wings out; boasting confidently.

You bit your lip and ran your hand slowly back up to the sides of his neck, “Mmn, yeah…”

He pushed your jaw up with his head and kissed along your throat as his hands slowly ran down your sides, kneading into your skin.

With a voice barely audible, you whispered, “I love you, Dante…”

A small laugh left the devil’s lips as he moved back to look at you, “I love you, too,” you jerked your hips at the feeling of his hand around your cock, “my little cock-whore.”

You rocked your hips against him, “Only for you--” you gasped as Dante yanked your legs upwards, allowing them to rest on his hips.

Dante leaned back fully and looked you over. He then removed his hand from your cock and placed it on his own, stroking himself slightly while looking at you.

Once more you buckled your hips, “Please?”

His stare was heavy as he looked at your face and, without breaking eye contact, he moved his tip to your hole. The red devil’s cum from earlier acted as lube as he pushed his tip inside you.

A sudden sharp gasping moan left your lips as you felt him shove all 10 ½ inches inside. Your back arched and your mind was reeling at the feeling. Dante grinned widely as he watched your reaction and began to move without waiting.

It didn’t take long for Dante to reach the same brutal pace as before; making your ass squelch from the cum already inside you. Your mind was blank as all you could do was moan and speak unintelligible gibberish at the feeling. He decided to take this up a notch. Dante grabbed your hips and picked you up; moving to a standing position.

“Dante,” you grabbed at his body; wrapping your arms around his neck and shoulders, groaning at the hot leathery skin.

The red devil growled feeling your wrap yourself around him. His wings wrapped around you, holding your body closer still. It was pure nirvana. All you wanted to do was feel him more, to be made his.

Dante’s thrusts became animalistic as he fucked up into you, hiking you up slightly with each move. He began to tease you with his knot, slowly pushing it further each time; you knew he was getting close. With the little bit of strength you had left in your body, you used one hand to reach up and grab one of the large black horns on his head.

That pushed him over the edge; he used his hands to shove your hips down onto his cock and forced his knot inside you. You shouted as your body jerked at the feeling; followed by your head leaning back limply, your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

The red devil let out a loud roar of a climax and pierced your hips with his claws, gripping them ever-tighter. A small whimper left Dante’s lips as he felt your muscles constrict his cock.

Despite him still being buried to the hilt, cum had already begun to drip from your ass and to the floor. You carefully placed your forehead against his and placed both your palms on his chest, feeling the rumble of his breathing. The two of you shared a gentle kiss--one without lust or need, but rather, one of pure love.

A few minutes passed as you felt him slowly begin to slide out of your body. Dante slowly de-triggered; starting with his head and torso and ending with the furthest things from his body.

Your hips involuntarily jerked at the feeling of his wings no longer supporting you and the feeling of his cock finally leaving you. Dante moved his hands to grab onto you better, “Easy, easy; I’ve got you,” he moved you back to the bed and laid you down gently.

A small pang of pride touched his heart as he saw how submissive he had made you and removed the long-forgotten collar around your neck. With a small sweet kiss on your cheek, Dante whispered, “I’ll be right back for you, okay?” with that, he left the room to go draw a bath.

Admittedly, right now you were pretty out of it so his words didn’t even register. Your blinking had slowed to the point of you being on the verge of a nap when he returned.

He smiled at the sight, “Let’s get you cleaned up,” he picked you up, which pulled you right out of your sleepy state and made you hiss in slight pain, “Sorry,” Dante placed a kiss on your forehead.

The water was warm as he set you down in the tub. He joined you in the water and you gave him a meek smile as you tried desperately to stay awake. Noticing this, Dante grabbed one of your hands, “You can nap, darlin’. I’ll take care of you,” he didn’t have to tell you twice as you drifted to sleep.

When he finished cleaning your body and tending to some of the more intense love marks he left; Dante picked you up once more; this time, he picked you up bridal style. Just like before, you woke up.

The red devil didn’t seem to notice; however, so you reached up to his face and palmed it gently. He smiled and leaned into your touch. Carefully, he set you down in bed and, after turning off the lights, joined you underneath the sheets.

Although you were exhausted, you managed to wriggle yourself closer to him. The two of you were laying face to face; or rather, face to chest. You looked up at Dante, “I love you,” you sighed and closed your eyes, “so, so much, Dante…”

He chuckled and wrapped his arms around you, purring with pure happiness, “I love you, too… Happy Valentine’s baby…”

Ending Notes: 💟Holy crap that was long. Admittedly, this would've been done yesterday but I was having a really bad day; so this kinda thing was not a good idea to write. 💟Please let me know if y'all liked this; I am still working on improving my smut writing skills, so any feedback would be great!! 💟Also, enjoy this happy story because the next ones (which are like 99% Vergil-related) are angst mixed with other things.

Want to see more like this? Want to read my work quicker and several stories that are not on Tumblr? Check this out on my AO3 (Linked here)

MASTER LIST FOR TUMBLR

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kazoosandfannypacks · 1 year

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"Last Chance" by kazoosandfannypacks

Pairing: Captain Swan Rating: General Word Count: 1K Summary: Killian had been hoping to tell Emma about his feelings for her at some point this Christmas break, as their friends visited with her brother. As the holiday came and went, Killian feared he may have missed his chance. Fortunately for him, one last Christmas decoration has yet to be put away- and it may be just what they need to break the ice. Tags: au, fluff, captain swan, one shot, modern au, christmas, snowing, first kiss, oneshot, college au Author's notes: This one's based on a prompt that @everything-person sent to the discord a while back! It was probably jsut after Christmas when it was sent, and I wrote it not long after that, but it sat in my drafts for a while. After a poll revealed y'all wouldn't mind a Christmas fic in May, I've decided today would be an awesome day to post it. I hope you guys enjoy it! Shoutout to @booksteaandtoomuchtv for betaing! Taglist:@zahara@kmomof4@jonesfandomfanatic@booksteaandtoomuchtv@jrob64@tiganasummertree@anmylica@teamhook@undercaffinatednightmare@gingerchangeling@lonelyspectator@caught-in-the-filter @ultraluckycatnd @cs-rylie @silver-the-phoenix @pawshapedheart [if you’d like to be added to or removed from this list, hmu in my dms or askbox!] Also on Ao3!

Killian smiled at Emma across the room as she took down the decorations on the tree, just like he'd smiled at her when she'd helped put them up, and like he'd smiled at her when they'd helped her sister-in-law make cutout cookies, and when they'd all gone caroling and got hot chocolate afterwards, and when they exchanged gifts on Christmas morning, and when they all sat down for a Christmas dinner- and really, like he'd been smiling at her since the day he met her at a campus-wide fall festival- one that he'd almost decided not to attend; one that she'd've skipped out on if her friends hadn't dragged her along.

But how fortunate was he that he'd gone, and that he'd somehow fallen in with her friend group there, and how readily they invited him to join them at various activities afterwards. Already they'd celebrated a few birthdays together, set up a trunk for trunk-or-treat, gone on a few hikes- and now they'd even celebrated Christmas together.

It really was kind of Emma's brother to invite him and some of their other friends to stay over the week for Christmas. It was nice to get away from the dorms for a bit to celebrate a small town Christmas.

It also would've been the perfect opportunity for Killian to tell Emma how he felt about her. Christmas magic in the air, blanket of snow across the town, the lights, the excitement, the merriment, the wonder- but as Killian helped her brother, David, take down the last string of Christmas lights, he realized he'd probably missed his chance at a Christmas miracle. Tomorrow they'd head back to school, back to classes and teachers and homework- back to normal.

And, unfortunately for Killian, his normal life only involved liking Emma from a distance.

"And it looks like another family- and friends- Christmas is officially in the books." David said, wrapping up the last string of lights.

"Thanks for having us," Killian said.

"Our pleasure," David said, "the more the merrier."

"Allow me," Killian said, taking the string of lights from David, "you've already done more than enough for us."

"Alright."

A bright green tote labeled "XMAS LIGHTS" sat just between this room and the living room- where Emma had been taking the last of the decorations off the tree. Killian wondered if he could steal another glance at Emma without anyone noticing, but his glance revealed she was coming that way, with a string of lights of her own to put away.

"Here," Killian said, walking past the tote to take the string of lights from her.

"I can get it," she said, holding out the string of lights at arms length away from him.

"It's really no trouble at all," Killian said. He stood in the doorway between her and the box of lights, and when she tried to walk past him, he sidestepped into her path. She tried again, and he blocked her again, and again, and the same result.

She sighed as she handed him the bundle of lights. "You really are taking the fun out of this."

"Am I?" Killian asked with a smug smile.

Mary Margaret interrupted their conversation to yell something past them both, to David.

"Oh, David! We still need to take the mistletoe down too!"

Killian knew which doorway the mistletoe hung in almost too well- he'd seen David catch his wife standing there a few too many times- and it happened to be the very same doorway that Killian and Emma were now standing under.

"No," Emma said, "I already…."

She looked up at the ceiling almost confused, like she hadn't expected the mistletoe to be right where it had been for the last two weeks, so much so Killian almost didn't expect it to be there either. But Killian looked up too, and sure enough, there was the mistletoe, right above himself and Emma Swan.

"This is almost too good to be true," Killian thought. Fate had given him one last chance at a Christmas miracle.

"I thought I took that down," Emma said.

Killian swallowed the lump in his throat- it was now or never.

"Swan?"

"Yeah?"

"We're under the mistletoe," he said, trying not to chicken out as her eyes met his, "and there's this tradition…."

"Do Christmas traditions still count after New Year's?" Emma asked.

"I sure hope so." Killian thought.

"The last chance of the season," he said, "may I?"

Emma smiled and nodded, and Killian's heart skipped a beat as she said, "Yeah."

He closed his eyes and leaned forward, meeting her lips with his for the most perfect moment of his life. Her lips touching his was like a meteor shower, or a firework- beautiful, entrancing, dangerous- and done and over with way too soon. He pulled away, smiling, wishing he could've made that moment last longer, but not wanting to push her further than she was willing to go.

He thought his heart was beating so loud she could probably hear it, but realized instead that the sound was their friends clapping. He didn't turn to look at them though- in that moment, all he wanted to see was Emma.

"Is that the best you got?" Emma asked.

"What?" Killian asked.

"It's like you said," Emma said, taking from his hands the bundles of lights that had gotten them into this beautiful mess in the first place. She threw them aside, probably landing them somewhere near the tote they belonged in.

"What?"

"'Last chance of the season-'" she said, "might as well make it a good one."

She placed her hands on his neck, stood up on tiptoes so her lips were parallel with his, then whispered, "May I?"

Killian couldn't get out much more than a nod and a breath that sounded almost like a "yeah," not even seeing this moment coming in his wildest daydreams- Emma Swan asking to kiss him.

She slid her hands down to his collar and pulled him closer, drawing his lips down into hers in a kiss that blew the last one out of the water.

He placed his hands on her waist, trying to experience everything he could in this moment- his lips exploring hers, her body in his hands, the lingering taste of gingerbread in her breath, a subtle pine smell, her warmth- holding her closer than he'd ever dared dream she'd let him. He was so lost in the moment he didn't even hear their friends cheering around him as he wrapped one of his hands further around her side, resting her neck in his other, pulling her into a dip and holding her as tightly as he could, pulling her even closer as he kissed her.

For the past three months he'd been watching her from a distance, wishing he could tell her how much she meant to him, wishing he could even just take her hand, ask her to get coffee, hold her at a dance, walk her back to her dorm and kiss her goodnight. And now that he had her in his arms and had her lips on his, he had three months of catching up to do, and one kiss to do it in. Every moment spent pining from a distance equalled another ounce of passion and love he needed to communicate in this kiss.

But as all good things have to, this kiss came to an end. Emma pulled away, her hands still on his neck, her eyes still sparkling in reflection of his, her breath still lingering on his lips. They both breathed heavily, still lost in their own little world a moment longer, until he gently stood her upright again.

"Wow," he whispered, hoping his voice wouldn't be drowned out by the cheering of her friends around them. "Swan, that was…."

"I know," Emma whispered, a look in her eyes that said it still wasn't nearly enough.

But she shook her head and blinked back to reality, and he as well noticed the crowd of spectators around them. Then he looked back down to Emma, her cheeks flushed with the most perfect shade of red he'd seen that whole Christmas season.

She smiled as she let go of him, albeit a bit awkwardly, and he watched her walk away from him, not taking his eyes off her until she'd walked out the back door and disappeared from view. The rest of the group, apparently, had decided the show was over and got back to whatever they'd been doing before Killian's life changed forever like that.

Killian ran his fingers through his hair and took a deep breath, leaning against the doorway to brace himself and his thoughts. He'd just kissed Emma Swan. He'd practically made out with her- and if he could do that, what was stopping him from finding a moment with her later, telling her how he felt, asking her if she wanted him to be something more to her.

He smiled as he took down that fateful mistletoe plant, now filled with hope that maybe things wouldn't be so normal when they got back to school- or maybe normal would be something even better now.

Maybe he hadn't missed his chance with Emma after all.

#captain swan #once upon a time #killian jones #emma swan #ouat #fanfiction #cs ff #david nolan #mary margaret blanchard #snowing #christmas #college au #modern au #first kiss #cw kissing

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whimsicallyenchantedrose · 5 months

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Christmas Reruns 2023 Day 20: The Twelve Sweaters of Christmas

Merry Christmas if you celebrate it and happy holidays if you don’t! One of the things I love about Christmas is watching reruns of all the old classic Christmas movies–Christmas is a big time for nostalgia. A few years ago, I decided to incorporate that tradition into my fandom life and post my CS holiday reruns. So here you go! Enough holiday (mostly) fluff to get you to New Year’s Day. (With a new story posting on Christmas Day.)

Rating: G

Word Count: 1986

Other chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32

Note: This story was written for my “Christmas with Captain Swan” collection in 2020.

Note #2: *facepalm* Somehow when I originally posted this yesterday, I accidentally repeated the text of "The Gingerbread Castle", which was the rerun for day 19. As a result, I have decided to reblog this one, so you get the ACTUAL "Twelve Sweaters of Christmas"

CS Genre: AU

Killian Jones neatly folded what felt like the one-hundredth sweater today, and stacked it on top of the pile. He prided himself on running a clean, neat, ship-shape establishment, and he hated when his clothing went askew.

Of course, given the fact that it was twelve days before Christmas, keeping things neat and tidy was a constant battle.

Killian never would have believed he’d find himself here. He’d had a promising career in front of him. He’d joined the Navy fresh out of high school, determined to follow in his older brother Liam’s footsteps. Liam had been his hero, he’d been brother and father and best friend to him after their mother died and their father abandoned them.

If only he hadn’t had to be a hero to everyone else. When Killian was seventeen, Liam had perished at sea after a terrible storm. He’d sacrificed his own life, saving seven of his crewmates before finally succumbing to the ocean’s fury.

After several months of aching grief, Killian had decided to live a life to make his brother proud. He’d decided to go into the Navy himself. He’d been a natural, taking to the water like a merman, never more content, never feeling closer to Liam than when he was out on the water. Things were looking up.

Unfortunately, tragedies rarely come on their own. When it rains it pours, and all that. Two years into his naval career, Killian got into a catastrophic automobile accident. Not only had he lost his love, his Milah, he’d also lost his hand.

And so he’d found himself alone, his promising career down the drain and with no idea what he was to do with his life.

Killian took a deep breath as he picked up yet another sweater to fold. Such dark thoughts had no place on this beautiful, snowy day, less than a fortnight before Christmas. Suffice it to say, after spiralling for a time, Killian had picked himself up and started on a new venture:

Revenge

He’d come across the clothing store quite by accident. He’d been passing through the small, sea-side village of Storybrooke, Maine one day, and just happened to step into the store. It was intriguing; had something of an edgy, pirate theme to it. It was run by an eccentric man named Edward Teach, who went by the moniker “Blackbeard”, no doubt due to the bushy mass of facial hair he sported.

Something about the store spoke to him, excited him in a way nothing had in months. Perhaps he could run an establishment such as this, combine a theme he was passionate about with goods people needed, and voila! The perfect business venture.

He hadn’t been in the store ten minutes before he’d made a promise to himself: Revenge is going to be mine.

It almost felt like fate the way everything worked out after that. As it happened, “Blackbeard” was looking to retire. Within a month, Killian had used the last of his inheritance from Liam to purchase Revenge and make it his own.

Nearly ten years later it was still going strong. He’d even managed to expand, turn it from something thoroughly niche into something more mainstream--while still maintaining it’s edge and it’s roots.

Revenge was Killian’s baby, and he was incredibly proud of it, and never more so than at Christmas. He prided himself on having everything the discerning Storybrooke customer could want for their holiday clothing needs.

The bell over the door sounded, and Killian looked up to see an angel with soft waves of sun-gold hair, tight jeans and a red leather jacket walking purposely toward him.

More like stomping toward him. The way her green eyes glittered dangerously as she approached proved that she was quite the angry angel.

She was utterly magnificent.

“Lost a bet,” she said curtly. “Point me in the direction of your ugliest Christmas sweaters.”

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

Emma Swan should have known better than to make a bet against Ruby, particularly about something outrageous, and if there was anything Ruby’s clothing choice today was, it was outrageous.

Emma liked Christmas--within reason. Who didn’t like time off and peace on earth and all the holiday goodies you could eat?

But there was nothing reasonable about the sweater Ruby had chosen to wear for her shift at the diner this morning.

Emma groaned as her roommate sashayed out of her bedroom into the shared living room of their apartment..

“Ruby, it’s too early for this,” she groused. “You look like Christmas threw all over you.”

Ruby poured herself a mug of coffee, and then sat opposite Emma on the couch. “Hey don’t knock it. Everybody loves a good ugly Christmas sweater.”

“More like loves to hate it,” Emma muttered.

A sudden gleam came into Ruby’s eye. That really should have been Emma’s first clue to turn and run. Nothing good ever came of Ruby looking at her like that.

“Wanna make a friendly wager on that?” Ruby asked.

“A wager on how many people will hate your clothing choices?”

Ruby rolled her eyes. “The opposite. I bet you I get more compliments today wearing this sweater than I’d get on any other day.”

“How would we even quantify that?” Emma asked. “You usually keep count of the compliments you get?”

“Fine,” Ruby conceded. “How about this: Come into Granny’s on your lunch break and sit in my section. I bet you I get a genuine compliment on my sweater during your meal--totally unprompted too.”

Emma considered it. “What are the stakes?”

Ruby thought for a minute and then smiled. It was not a reassuring sight. “You win, and I clean the apartment for a month. But if I win….if I win, you have to wear an ‘ugly’ Christmas sweater every day until Christmas.”

Emma didn’t even take a moment to consider it. Getting out of cleaning for an entire month? So worth this bet, and it wasn’t like she was going to lose anyway.

“You’re on.”

Later that day when Emma and her partner, Sheriff Graham Humbert, stopped by the diner for lunch, they hadn’t been seated for five minutes before Emma realized she’d made a profound mistake.

“Hey guys!” Ruby smiled at them as she reached their table and pulled out her pencil and pad of paper. “How’s your day going? It’s been crazy around here this morning!”

“Pretty quiet at the sheriff’s station,” Graham said, smiling as he looked her over. “That’s quite a sweater you’re wearing today, Ruby. Very festive; I like it!”

Emma groaned as Ruby shot her a triumphant look. Rookie mistake. She should have known better than to bring Graham with her to lunch. It was obvious to anyone with eyes that Graham had been more than half in love with Ruby for years. She should have brought someone like Leroy to lunch. She doubted that man had ever complimented anyone in his life.

But Emma was a woman of her word. She’d lost the bet fair and square, and pay up she would.

Which is why she currently found herself talking to the owner and proprietor of Revenge.

“Lost a bet,” she said curtly. “Point me in the direction of your ugliest Christmas sweaters.”

The man behind the desk--Killian, his name tag said--grinned at her. “Love, I’d wager the term ugly could never be applied to you no matter what you wear or don’t wear.”

Emma rolled her eyes. The guy was hot, she’d give him that--with his artfully messy black hair, piercing blue eyes and reddish scruff. And all the leather. It really should be illegal for a man to wear that much leather and to wear it so well. Still, Emma was in no mood for being hit on--handsome man or no.

“You’re hilarious,” she said dead pan. “Now about those sweaters…”

He grinned again and then winked. Actually winked. “Hilarious?” he asked, stepping around the corner and gesturing for her to follow him. “I prefer dashing rapscallion, scoundrel.”

Her stomach did not swoop at the way he almost growled that last word. It didn’t!

The fact that she was totally lying to herself annoyed her more than every aspect of this ridiculous bet. “How about you be ‘shop owner who does his job and points the customer in the right direction’? Think you could manage that?”

The rest of Emma’s shopping experience went without a hitch. She grabbed the plainest Christmas sweater she could find--a simple powder blue v-neck covered tastefully with snowflakes.

Maybe Ruby would take pity on her and call her bet paid off if she wore this thing.

Probably not, but one never knew. It was the season of miracles, after all.

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

The next morning, Killian opened the store as usual, taking a moment to be sure everything was ship-shape before unlocking the doors and turning the sign in the window to read “open”. He glanced over at his “ugly Christmas sweater” display and smiled wistfully to himself.

He’d spent a fair amount of the evening thinking about her, Emma Swan, her credit card had proclaimed. She was beautiful, aye, but there was more to it than that. Though their interaction had scarcely lasted a quarter of an hour, though their conversation had been relegated to Christmas sweaters and the bet that had forced her to purchase one, he had the strangest sense that they were the same deep down, that they were kindred souls.

He was utterly captivated by her.

Killian sighed as he turned on the cash register and checked his supply of cash in preparation for what would likely be another busy day. It was the first time he’d had any meaningful glimmer of interest in a woman since Milah’s death, and he was surprised at how nervous it had made him to interact with her. For probably the thousandth time since yesterday afternoon he mentally kicked himself for not getting her number.

A man unwilling to fight for what he wants deserves what he gets. Liam had told him that five hundred times if he’d told him once.

Well, there was no sense dwelling on it now. Emma Swan had walked out of his life when she walked out of his store, and there was no changing that.

Or so he thought.

Not a quarter of an hour after opening his doors, who should arrive, charging forth in all her wrathful glory than the lovely Miss Swan herself?

Killian grinned at her teasingly. “Back again, love? Couldn’t resist my dashing self, is it?”

She rolled her eyes. “You wish.”

He did. He really, really did.

“Well, Swan, what can I help you with this lovely morning?” he asked.

She looked surprised. “You remember my name?”

Killian chuckled and scratched behind his ear. “I never forget a face, and yours, love, is exceptionally beautiful.”

“Not your love,” she said, but Killian took note of the way her cheeks reddened at the simple endearment. “Anyway, I’m not here to flirt. I’m here for another sweater.”

“Another Christmas sweater?”

“Yeah,” she said with a sigh. “Apparently that blue one with the snowflakes I bought yesterday won’t fulfill my bet. Ruby told me it barely even fit the category. Got anything uglier for me?”

“You, darling are in luck,” Killian said. “Revenge just so happens to stock some of the ugliest ugly Christmas sweaters in the state.”

Today, after a fair bit more banter and pleasant small talk, she’d decided on a red, woolen zip-up cardigan. Featured prominently on the sweater were several applique snowmen playing musical instruments. It was...it was quite something.

“This is actually kind of perfect,” Emma said, trying it on and looking herself up and down in the floor length mirrored column next to the sweater display. “Definitely fits the category, plus it’s a cardigan. I can take it off after I’ve shown Ruby I actually wore it. I’ll just say I’m too hot or something.”

He grinned teasingly at her and wiggled his eyebrows in an exaggerated manner. “You certainly are, love.”

She laughed at that before removing the sweater and setting it on the counter to be rung up. “Do those exaggerated lines actually work on anyone?”

“You’d be surprised,” he answered. “At any rate, they seem to have served their purpose today. You seem to be leaving my establishment in better spirits than you entered it.”

She smiled. “I guess I am. Thanks, Killian.”

He inclined his head. “A lady in distress needs my assistance, and her wish is my command.”

She laughed again. “Alright, well I have to get to work.”

He rang her up and wished her a good day. Just before she stepped out the door, he called out to her again. She turned toward him.

“Any chance I might see you again?” he asked, feeling like a tongue-tied young lad with the lass he fancied.

“With Ruby being the way she is,” Emma said, “probably a really good chance I’ll be back.”

And so she had. She returned the next day, settling on a sweater bearing the visage of The Grinch, the day after, choosing one that depicted all twelve gifts from the famous song, the one after that in her own, colorful words, looked like Christmas exploded in woolen form.

Each day their conversations lasted longer, and each day he fell a little bit more for the lovely Miss Swan. He came to look forward to her visits every day with eager anticipation, mentally thanking whatever brilliant soul invented the “ugly Christmas sweater”.

On the fifth day, Killian managed to unearth a gem of such glittering ugliness and ostentation, he felt the need to pat himself on the back.

“Yep, that’s certainly a disaster,” Emma said grinning at the garment covered in a large Christmas tree, filled with ornaments and a banner along the bottom that read MERRY CHRISTMAS! In huge letters.

“Oh, but love, you haven’t even seen the best part,” Killian announced. “This particular sweater comes with a battery pack.”

She shot him a disbelieving look. “I’m almost afraid to ask, but what exactly does the battery pack do.”

Instead of answering, he turned the device on. LED lights flashed in every tiny ornament on the sweater, and the MERRY CHRISTMAS! nearly had a strobe light effect.

Emma groaned before dissolving into laughter. “This is it. This is the ugly Christmas sweater of all ugly Christmas sweaters. If this doesn’t satisfy Ruby, I admit defeat.”

Killian watched her go that day with more than a little melancholy. What if that was the sweater that would do the trick? What if she didn’t return again?

He needn’t have worried. Emma Swan showed up at his door bright and early the next morning.

His heart leapt at the sight of her. He’d fallen hard and fast for this woman, and he saw no likelihood that would change any time soon.

“What? Even the monstrosity with the flickering lights didn’t satisfy the demanding Miss Lucas?” Killian asked by way of greeting.

Emma laughed. “Oh it did,” Emma assured. “I think I actually managed to render her speechless with that one. It’s just...well my bet was for a different sweater every day until Christmas, and I’m a woman of my word.”

And for that he was profoundly grateful.

So it continued. Each day she came in, each day she bought a sweater, and each day he fell a little bit more in love with her.

When Christmas Eve arrived, Killian noticed a change in Emma’s demeanor almost instantly. She looked...uncomfortable.

“Is something the matter Love?” he asked, brow furrowed.

“No,” she said, drawing out the syllable, “It’s just..well...I’m here to ask you out.”

Killian choked on the sip of coffee he’d just injudiciously taken. “Pardon?”

“Okay, first I have a little confession to make,” Emma said. “Remember that ridiculous sweater with the battery pack around day five or six?”

“Aye,” he said carefully.

“Well, after I wore that, Ruby actually released me from my bet,” she said, looking bashful. “She told me I’d fulfilled the spirit of it or something like that.”

Killian felt the smile creeping over his face. “And yet you continued coming in and making your purchases every day. Whatever for, darling?”

She tried to look stern. “Look, don’t make a bigger deal of it than it is, but, I don’t know. I kind of enjoyed our daily shopping sessions and conversations and all of that.”

His smile grew. “You enjoy my company!”

“Don’t let it go to that over-inflated ego of yours.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, making a cross-my-heart motion over his chest. “And for the record, I have greatly enjoyed our little...retail dalliances...quite a bit as well. Now what was that about asking me out?”

She suddenly looked bashful again. “So the sheriff’s department is throwing this Christmas bash and ugly sweater contest tonight, and I was hoping maybe you’d...I mean, I know it’s Christmas Eve, and people want to spend it with family, and I totally get it if you’re not interested or it’s not your thing or whatever, and don’t feel obligated, but I just thought--”

Killian leaned across the counter and kissed her. “Swan, I would like nothing better than to accompany you to your party. Just tell me when and where.”

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

Ruby watched Emma walk into the diner hand in hand with Killian Jones later that evening. She smiled broadly, reaching over to slap Graham’s arm as he sat beside her.

“Ow!” Graham groused. “What was that for?”

“Look!” Ruby said. “It worked! I told you it would work!”

Graham obediently followed her directions and then grinned. “I can’t believe you talked me into helping you rig that bet just to play matchmaker!”

“I told you!” she said again. “Didn’t I tell you? I knew Killian would be perfect for Emma. She just needed a little push.”

“That she did,” Graham said with a laugh. “Remind me to never doubt you again.”

They watched for a moment as Emma looped her arms around Killian’s neck and the two began swaying gently to the music that was playing.

Who would have known that an ugly Christmas sweater would lead to what was sure to become a romance for the ages?

NEXT CHAPTER->

#christmas reruns 2023 #cs fanfiction #captain swan christmas ff #my fanfiction #the twelve sweaters of christmas

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donteattheappleshook · 1 year

Text

Barefoot in the wildest winter... a captain swan Christmas AU

Summary:

She wasn’t supposed to come back. It had been a stupid plan, thinking she could get in and out of Storybrooke without anyone knowing she was here. Just catch the skip, bring him in and go back to Boston without her brother finding out that she’d lied about not being able to come home for Christmas like she did every year. There’s some kind of cosmic joke being made at her expense. There has to be for this day and this storm to have led her here of all places, on tonight of all nights.The walk to the building feels all too familiar and she struggles to push back the memories of the last time she was here as she works up the nerve to make her way up the stairs, to knock on the door. There’s still time to run. “Swan?” “Hey, Killian.”

Rated M (E?)

Merry Christmas @killiansprincss ! It’s me, not the problem this time but your Secret Santa 🎅

I’ve SO enjoyed getting to know you over the last few weeks and getting to talk CS, Christmas and Taylor Swift! 🥰

I hope you like this little story I’ve written you for the @cssecretsanta2020 I tried to fit in as many of your favorites as I could: soft Killian, forced proximity/only one bed, fluff/smut/angst (with a happy ending of course), and a little nod to some favorite holiday movies, a splash of favorite side characters and scenes, and (obviously) a little inspiration from the queen of love songs herself

And a hundred thousand million thank yous to @the-darkdragonfly who saved this fic when it went off the rails and made it not terrible <3 It never would have come together without you holding my hand through all of it.

Read on Ao3 were my italics work!

❄️❄️❄️

It’s not that bad.

It’s just a little snow.

The Bug is reliable and she’s got winter tires.

She’ll be fine.

Shit, she just missed her turn. They need more street lights around here - the snow covering the signs doesn’t help either. She ducks her head, trying to see better, looking for any landmarks she recognizes. Emma thought she knew Storybrooke off by heart, but it seems a decade away has left some of her recollection hazy.

The snow had come out of nowhere, blanketing the ground in the amount of time it took her to walk in and out of the Sheriff’s station, the flurries massive and wet as they hit her windshield. What little light her headlights manage to shine through the dark is blinded by angry streams of flakes, falling furiously against them in the harsh wind, the consistent rattling noise unnerving.

She used to wish for winters like this, town blanketed in snowfall, schools closed and days spent hiding out with friends. ‘Here.’ A gift pushed awkwardly into her hand, an embarrassed smile, flakes swirling around a little version of the town they both lived in. ‘Now you’ll always have snow.’ Now she just needs to get away. The magic is gone. No more dreams of white Christmases.

She can see the water - she thinks - to her left. There’s a road along the shore, one that leads out of town in a more round-about way, and so she makes the next left turn she can, weaving through the narrow, empty streets until she finds herself on Misthaven road with a triumphant cheer. Okay. She’s got this. This way leads right out of town and towards he highway and she can -

Emma slams her foot down on the break, eyes suddenly reflecting bright in her headlights and the car swerves on the slick ground. She doesn’t have time to see what it was, cursing as the bug swings frantically from side to side, fighting with the wheel to get it back under control as it skids towards the ditch piled high with snow. But there’s no stopping it.

The impact is jarring, her whole body rocking forward with the force of the sudden stop. She grips the wheel, heart racing as she puts her head down against it to take a breath. You’re okay. It could have been a lot worse, she rationalizes when she looks up to find her windshield and front windows completely clouded in white. She could have hit the water.

She manages to get her seatbelt off, falling forward into the dashboard with a grunt. The door won’t budge when she tries it, the snow packed tightly on either side, so she pulls out her phone to call for help. She finds it on the floor instead, screen shattered and ominously black. Of course.

Climbing through the car, over the back seats to the trunk, she manages to pop it open and heave herself out. Emma looks back at her little bug as she sits on the bumper, uses it to step back onto the road. I’m sorry, I’ll come back for you. She just needs to find a phone. Do payphones still exist? This town has been stuck in the 90s for decades. Or someone has to come by eventually, a snow plow, another person as determined to get out of here as she is…

Her coat isn’t warm enough, arms wrapped around herself as her hair, freezing in icy tendrils, whips across her face as she struggles to keep her eyes open against the onslaught of wet snow. Where are you? No answer comes, her memories of this road too hazy to see through the storm. So she walks, picking a direction rather than standing and losing extremities one by one.

She wasn’t supposed to be here. She was never supposed to come back here at all. She should have ignored the call, let someone else take the bounty on the skip that had decided to go hide out in her hometown, a place she’s managed to avoid for over a decade now. She’d gotten out, run as far and fast as she could, hurt one too many times by this cursed little town where all her happy endings were taken from her.

Christmas morning, the day after her first and only boyfriend had dumped her - the last in a long line to leave her behind in Storybrooke - because he ‘wanted to see what was out there’, she’d taken a train to Boston and never looked back. She wasn’t supposed to come back.

It had been a stupid plan, thinking she could get in and out of Storybrooke without anyone knowing she was here. Just catch the skip, bring him in and go back to Boston without her brother ever finding that she’d lied about not being able to come home for Christmas like she did every year. And yet here she is, wandering the streets of Storybrooke on Christmas Eve, lost and alone.

She’s not sure how far she’s gone when she sees the water, a clearing in the trees, a straight shot to the beach. The waves bring memories with them as they crash against the shore, the sea always refusing to be frozen by the harshest of colds. There’s a metaphor in there somewhere. Arms wrapped solidly around her, a hand taking hers, ‘come with me,’ sitting in the cold sand throwing rocks at the waves with his hands on her ears, ‘they’re going to fall off, Killian,’ and her heart on her sleeve.

Emma looks up at the building across the street. If she squints she thinks can see a light on. There’s some kind of cosmic joke being made at her expense. There has to be for this day and this storm to have led her here of all places, on tonight of all nights. She still has a snowglobe on her mantle, a gift given to her by a boy she’d spent most of high school infatuated with, and the years after navigating an ineffable friendship.

How long has it been since she’s seen him? Not since that morning she left, the one where everything had almost changed. It did, she supposes, but not the way she’d been so suddenly terrified it could in those few breaths between a question and a goodbye. He may not even live there anymore. She knows he’s still in town from what David’s told her and the occasional social media stalking, but that’s about all she knows about him now.

It’s your best bet. At least whoever’s there might have a phone she can use, know a tow that she can call to get her bug back on the road and her on her way back to Boston. The walk to the building feels all too familiar and she struggles to push back the memories of the last time she was here as she works up the nerve to make her way up the stairs. Still, her heart pounds in her chest and her stomach tightens reflexively when she knocks on the door. There’s still time to run.

“Swan?”

“Hey, Killian.”

***

They were at the Christmas market, Emma grumbling to Ruby about the fact that there hadn’t been any snow that year as they picked through a pile of novelty keychains. “It just doesn’t feel like Christmas without it.” She picked up a little skull and crossbones, holding it up for her friend’s appraisal.

David called them over, offering to buy everyone hot chocolate, all thoughts of shopping abandoned - “Who would you even get that for?” “I don’t know.” She just thought it was cool. This was the first time she had her own set of keys to a front door. It slipped so easily into her pocket, a habit picked up between foster homes. Take whatever you can get your hands on. You might not get the chance again.

“Hey, Swan.” Only one person called her that, whispered too low for anyone else to hear. “Nicely done.” Killian smirked at her, nodded toward her pocket, eyebrow raised.

Crap. “You’re not going to tell David, are you?” She couldn’t lose this one too.

“Why would I do that?” Thank god. His face softened. “It takes a while.”

“What does?”

“To stop feeling like you have to.” Something passed between them then, an understanding. David had said they had a lot in common. “Here.” He put something in her hand, smile awkward, cheeks red. A snow globe, one of the ones Ingrid from the ice cream shop made, a vague rendition of Storybrooke in the center. “You’re right about Christmas.” He touched a finger to the back of his ear. “Now you’ll always have snow.”

“Did you steal this?”

His laugh was loud. She liked it. “No. It’s a gift.”

She smiled at it, face flushing furiously - a gift from David’s new friend, the nice one with the pretty eyes who smiled a lot. Shaking it a few times to make the little flecks of white dance around her currently green town, Emma looked up at him, lip catching between her teeth. “I love it.”

“Here.” She reached into her pocket, pulling out the stolen keychain, wanting to be able to give him something in return.

His slow smile sent something twisting in her stomach, mischievous, like they had a secret. “Your loot, Swan? I’m honoured.”

“Well if you don’t want it -”

“No, I do,” he said quickly, grabbing it before she could take it back, ears red, running his thumb over the little skull. “Thank you. I’ll treasure it always.” Idiot.

***

He’s staring at her, like he can’t quite decide if she’s real, a literal ghost from his past appearing on his doorstep after a decade without a word. He looks good. She knew he would - he always had. But the last time she saw him he was twenty-two and the years have been unfairly kind to him. He’s grown a beard, a ginger scruff that covers his cheeks, both them and his ears reddened by the cold like he’s just come inside.

She shifts uncomfortably as the silence drags on and he continues to stare, brow pulling down in confusion. “What are you doing here?”

She’s not sure if he means the literal here at his door, or here in Storybrooke, or here suddenly in his life again, so she answers all three. “I ran my car off the road a little ways up the street. I was hoping you might have a phone.” She holds hers out. “Mine didn’t survive.”

“You what?”

“There was a deer or something… Can I come in?”

Killian blinks at her, finally registering her question, her answer to his. “Aye,” he says, stepping back to let her pass. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, just, you know, cold. And stuck.”

It’s different. The first thing she’s come back to in this town that isn’t exactly the way she left it. The large, single room is furnished in old wood and leather, the heavy curtains along windows keeping out the fury of the storm. There’s art on the walls. When she’d been here last it had belonged to a guy in his twenties: second hand couch, posters of bands and movies tacked up with push pins.

She looks over towards the back of the apartment, the bed in the same place it had always been but new. She let out a squeal falling onto the mattress, the distance further than she expected. Laughing, ‘you need a bed frame.’ A rushed promise, ‘I’ll go to Ikea in the morning.’ Better not to pay attention to that.

“Are you hurt?”

She shakes her head. “Just need a tow.”

“Do you want a towel?” She thinks she needs to answer yes to one of his questions or he might not stop asking them. Her hair is soaked, snow melting in her lashes, probably smudging mascara down her cheeks.

“Sure, thanks.” She kicks off her boots. Her socks make an unpleasant, wet sound when she sets her feet on the hardwood, damp fabric squishing between her toes and she makes a face at them.

Killian notices. “Do you want to borrow a pair of mine?” More questions.

She shakes her head, “No, I’m fine,” quickly pulling them off and draping them over her boots. She won’t be here long.

“Cell service is down, but you can use the landline,” he offers, nodding towards the phone in the kitchen.

“You have a landline?” she smirks before catching herself. But he sees it, his shoulders relaxing a little.

“Comes in pretty handy when we lose power.” There’s just a ghost of that cheeky smile she remembers as she pads barefoot across his apartment, too modest to be smug but close.

“Fair point.” She stares at the thing. Oh, right. “Do you have a number for a mechanic?”

He hurries over to join her in the kitchen, searching through a drawer until he pulls out a business card. “Here.” Gus’s Auto Repair.

Gus can’t come get her car out until tomorrow. “Got to be on standby for emergencies and since you’re clearly somewhere safe and not stranded on the side of the road freezing to death -”

“I don’t count. Got it.”

Perfect. Could also have done without the somewhat patronizing comment that she shouldn’t be out driving in a blizzard.

Killian’s waiting for her to fill him in when she hangs up, handing over the promised towel. “Looks like I’m stuck,” she tells him, wringing her hair out.

“Sorry, love,” he sighs. “I’m sure you had people waiting on you to get home for Christmas. Do you want to call anyone? Let them know you’re okay? Make as many calls as you need.”

She almost debates lying, pretending that yes, there is someone at home waiting for her to get back, having a fake conversation with her own answering machine rather than admitting the slightly pathetic truth. “No, it’s okay. It was just going to be me this year.”

She’s gotten used to being on her own though. She did it for a long time before she’d ever had any family to spend the holiday with. She’d started out alone, after all, found just outside the town line, a few hours old, abandoned and wrapped in a blanket with her name on it, a small suggestion that maybe someone had loved her at one point. But nobody had come forward.

There had been a series of foster homes after that, none sticking, in and out of Storybrooke for the entirety of her childhood. She’d had one good year, the Sheriff taking her home for Christmas, no social worker around when the latest family left her at the station. She’d always liked him, the kind man with the beard and the funny accent who let her hold his badge and chase him around the station.

But when he’d died it had been a series of foster homes again until she’d met David in high school. Older enough and big enough to scare off bullies, he’d brought her home for dinner until his mother decided she should stay. And Emma had stayed, until David got married and moved out, until Ruth passed away shortly after, and then it was just her again, alone in Boston celebrating Christmas, eggnog and a plastic tree.

Neither of them say anything for a moment, her last comment hanging between them until he finally breaks the silence. “I was going to warm some cider. Would you like some?”

“You got anything stronger?”

“It’s mostly rum.”

“Then yes.”

She takes a moment to wander the apartment rather than standing awkwardly in the kitchen with him, tracing her fingers along the back of the old leather couch with heavy blankets draped over it. She tries to reconcile her memories of the twenty-two year old she knew and this man he’s become. And while they don’t quite fit, they make sense. He’d always been this way, warm, inviting, comforting.

“Nice place,” she says as casually as possible, as though she’s never stepped foot in this room before. He’s put up Christmas decorations, lights and pine branches, little wooden trees and reindeer sculptures. Emma looks over at the massive fir in the corner. “Your tree doesn’t have any decorations on it,” she tells him absentmindedly, because focusing on that is much easier than focusing on how familiar and comfortable the place feels.

“Aye, we’re decorating it tomorrow,” he explains, scratching behind his ear in the same way he always did when he was nervous. It’s nice to know she’s not the only one. “Your brother and Mary Margaret are coming for dinner.”

She takes a seat on the sofa, pulling her legs up and wrapping her arms around her knees, bare toes curling over the edge of the cushion as she tries to figure out what to do next. Right, she’s stuck in Storybrooke for the night. “Sounds fun.” The words fall flat.

He hums, then stops what he’s doing, deep breath, hands gripping the edge of the counter, bracing himself for whatever’s about to come. “Why are you here, Emma?” The question is hard, she can tell, his jaw clenching and shoulders tight.

“In Storybrooke?”

“For starters, yes.”

“I was chasing a skip,” she sighs. “He was hiding out here and I thought I could catch him, collect the bounty and be back in Boston before the end of the night.”

“It’s Christmas.”

“I didn’t really have any other plans...”

“What about David and Mary Margaret? Do they know you’re in town?”

“No. And I don’t want them to. I said I couldn’t come - it would just hurt their feelings if they found out.”

“And that’s it?”

“What’s it?”

“The only reason you’re in Storybrooke.” She nods, wrapping her hands around her cold toes, resting her chin on her knee, his gaze hot on her, reading her in that way he’d always been able to. “Alright.” He brings over a steaming mug, sets it down on the table in front of her. “So what now?”

“I haven’t gotten that far yet,” she winces.

“Just stay here, love,” he sighs, like his offer is an apology. “It’s hell out there. I’ll take the couch for the night. It’s better than freezing to death in your car,” he adds when she doesn’t answer right away. Emma bites her lip. She’d been considering it - he knows her too well. Killian raises an eyebrow. “I’m going to try not to take offence to you deciding which is actually worse,” he tells her and a smile tugs at the corner of her lips.

“Okay.” Her voice is quiet, her answer also an apology, for disappearing from his life without a word, for bursting back into it without explanation. “Thanks.”

“Good,” he says, then breathes, “bloody ghost of Christmas past,” into his mug.

Emma takes a sip of her cider, immediately coughing when the burn of spiced rum hits her throat. “Holy shit, you weren’t kidding,” she coughs again and he smirks, taking a more dignified drink of his own. “Listen, I appreciate you letting me stay here and not freeze to death or whatever,” she tells him when he takes a seat next to her on the couch, leaving as much space between them as possible. “But I don’t want to ruin your night if you have plans…”

“Nothing important.”

“What were they?” She’s horrible, doing this to him twice.

He shrugs. “I usually spend Christmas Eve on my own before the big hoorah tomorrow. Drink spiked cider, watch a Christmas movie… I usually take a walk along the coast first but, well, between the storm and you showing up here like the Little Match Girl, I think I’ll skip that part this year.” He smiles crookedly at her, the same way he had another Christmas Eve so long ago. And her heart gives a little lurch as the memories come flooding back.

***

Maybe she was being irrational, maybe she was overreacting; people broke up all the time. But it was the coldness in his tone as he did it, the dismissal, like he never actually cared at all, like she was a placeholder until he could go and find something better that made it hurt so much.

She was already outside, having left Neal’s place as quickly as she could, already halfway down the road, halfway towards god-knows-where before she even realized that it was snowing, that it was cold. But it wasn't like she could bring herself to go back. She couldn’t go home either. Not to that house where Ruth would have been only a year ago, would have known what to say and what to do to make everything better - that house where it was just her now.

He’d just ended it. Just like that. As though they hadn’t spent almost a year together, as though they didn’t have plans to go to Boston in the morning for a little Christmas holiday. As though they didn’t already have tickets. He ‘wanted to see what else was out there’. She knew what he meant but didn’t say. He wanted to see who else was out there.

She was stranded. Stuck on a windy road in this horrible town with nowhere to go, nobody to call. Everyone was gone or celebrating with their loved ones. She was running out of those. She knew there was really only one person she could call - one person who would pick up and come find her, regardless of the fact that she’d never actually called his number before.

Headlights shone down the winding road, the sound of a car slowing echoed on the quiet street. The engine turned off, the door slamming shut before footsteps crunched in the snow. “Swan?” Killian came running over. “Swan, what happened?” She hadn’t told him much on the phone, just asked if he could come, and he looked so worried now, so much like he actually cared, like she actually mattered, that it chipped away at the walls around her heart just enough that she couldn’t keep the hurt out anymore.

“I didn’t know who else to call.” The tears overwhelmed her and she let him pull her against his chest. Maybe it should have felt strange, but instead his arms felt solid around her. His fingers stroked through her hair the way Ruth used to and it was something she needed more desperately than she realized. All that soft affection that he always showed her, that she’d always held for her brother’s friend - the one who always smiled at her, always teased her, always cared - flooded her as she tightened her grip on his jacket.

“Are you okay?” Killian asked when she’d finally managed to stop crying, to pull her face from the collar of his shirt she’d definitely ruined. He wiped at her tear stained cheeks. “Do you need a ride somewhere?” he asked before cocking his head at her and raising a brow. “Or maybe for me to murder someone?” She snorted out a laugh, his smile relieved if still tentative.

“I’m fine… Neal and I just broke up.”

“I’m sorry,” he sighed, and then, “Would you like me to murder him?” She snorted another laugh. “I never liked the guy anyway. Wouldn’t be a big deal.”

“He’s not worth it.”

“Do you want me to take you home?”

“No, I’m sorry. Thanks for coming to get me, I just... I can’t face home right now.”

“It’s okay,” he promised. “I was on my way home. Do you want me to take you somewhere else? Granny’s maybe?”

“It’s almost midnight,” she pointed out. She couldn’t believe she called him this late - and on Christmas Eve. But she just… needed him. Nobody else would have been able to make her laugh just now.

“Right.”

“This is so stupid. I’m not even crying over him. I don’t know why I’m crying at all,” she insisted, rubbing harshly at her eyes in frustration. “I just - this town fucking sucks. I need to get out.” Her laugh was bitter. “Neal and I were supposed to go to Boston in the morning. We were gonna spend Christmas there together. I even have the stupid ticket.”

He considered her for a moment and she thought maybe he got it, the urge to escape for a little while, forever. He reached out and took her hand in his. “Come with me.”

They walked along the edge of the water, waves crashing against the shore, surface refusing to freeze despite the cold. Killian didn’t say anything, just kept her hand in his and led her further down the beach until he finally came to a stop, looking out at the sea. She followed his gaze.

“What are we doing?”

“Looking at the water.”

“Okay… Why?”

He huffed a laugh, sitting on the snow-covered sand. “I thought you might find it soothing.”

“It’s cold.”

“It is,” he agreed, nodding but not moving to get up. With a sigh she plopped down beside him, drawing her knees up to her chest and resting her chin on them. “I come here whenever I’m pissed off and need to get away,” he shrugged.

“You get pissed off?” She didn’t think she'd ever seen him lose his temper. He was always so calm, even when he had just as much reason as her to want to curse out the whole world. Killian smiled, picked up a rock and tossed it into the water. She did the same, and then did it again, the splash satisfying against the roar of the waves before it was swallowed up by the rest of the sea. She sighed, shutting her eyes and letting the sound of the water fill her ears and calm her anger, dull her hurt a little.

“You know this is still Storybrooke though, right?” she reminded him.

He shrugged. “Maybe. But the water always kind of feels like its own place, everywhere and nowhere all at once. It’s easier to imagine being somewhere else here.”

“Poetic,” she teased, turning back to watch the water a little longer, the waves pulling at something in her every time they slipped back from the shore, like they were trying to drag the words from her chest. “I feel like an idiot. I think I knew he wasn’t a nice guy, deep down.”

“You’re not an idiot, Swan. You fell in love. Happens to the best of us.”

“Maybe.” Was it love though? Or had she just clung onto someone in the hopes that she could make them stay, that they’d be the first not to disappear on her. “I think this town is cursed.”

He raised an eyebrow at that. “Cursed?”

Emma threw another rock into the ocean. She didn’t know how to explain it to him, something she’d started believing as a kid, when every family she found left her here alone, as everyone she cared about in this town was ripped from her one by one. It became a lot easier to try not to love them, to keep David and Ruby at arm’s length after Ruth died, to choose a guy she knew she couldn’t completely open her heart to. And to ignore the way she felt whenever she was around Killian, the pull and the longing, how easy and tempting it would be to just pour her whole heart out and trust him not to judge her, not to hurt her.

“Well,” he said, nudging her shoulder with his, smile crooked. “That’s one of the nice things about Christmas, magic in the air and all that. Probably enough to break a curse.”

It was so cheesy and she wished she could believe him, but years of heartbreak just made it impossible. Emma looked away from him, pulled her coat more tightly around herself, a shiver running through her and she changed the subject.

“Do all of your philosophical ideas involve Christmas and frozen beaches?” she asked, tucking her chin into the neck of her coat. “Because we probably could have looked at the water from inside. And then I might still be able to feel my ears.”

He laughed and she breathed a sigh of relief - he was gonna let her off the hook. He wasn’t going to make her talk about her stupid cursed life in this stupid cursed town because he got her. She didn’t need to explain it to him. She never did.

“Baby,” he teased.

“They’re going to fall off, Killian,” she insisted. “And it’ll be your fault.”

His hands came up to either side of her face, fingertips chilly but palms warm as they covered her ears and her heart stuttered in her chest.

“Better?”

She nodded, swallowed. Slowly, his amused smile slipped and she could tell he was trying to read her. Emma slipped her hand into one of his, holding them both against her cheek. She would blame the waves, drawing her stupid, battered heart out of her chest, or maybe the cold, urging her towards all of the warmth inside of him, but suddenly she was leaning across the space between them, pressing her lips to his.

Killian froze and she pulled back, panicked. Shit. Shit, she’d completely misread that. It was stupid and impulsive and now she’d probably ruined whatever it was they had, this little bit of good that she’d just tried to grab onto.

He didn’t let her go, pulled her back to him, mouth hot against hers, fingers sliding from her cheek to weave through her hair, the other curling around her waist. It should have felt strange, it was probably a mistake, but it was Killian, and this felt long overdue. So she let him pull her closer, let him hold her like he had on the side of the road and kiss her like he was trying to break whatever curse would eventually rip him away from her.

***

“Guess I kind of ruined your night alone.”

“I don’t mind the company,” he promises. “So long as you don’t comment on the movie.”

“Why would I - Oh, no.”

“Oh yes,” he beams, reaching for the remote. “Every Christmas Eve.”

Emma groans as the music starts, an English accent giving a monologue about airports and then the dreaded words flash on the screen. Love Actually. “This is literally the worst Christmas movie ever.”

“This is the best Christmas movie ever.”

She rolls her eyes but does her best not to say anything as the movie begins, Killian getting up at one point to make a bowl of popcorn - with Milk Duds mixed in so they get all melty. Her silence doesn’t last very long, the rum making her bolder, making her forget the awkwardness. She finally reaches her breaking point.

“This is so stupid. They can’t even understand each other. And they’re just saying the complete opposite thing the whole time.”

He looks over at her, exasperated, head rolling over the back of the couch. “People don’t have to be able to say they love someone out loud for it to be real.”

She doesn’t have an answer for that, staring at him for a moment before shutting her mouth and turning back to the movie. He has a talent for saying things without saying them. It’s only a few minutes before she can’t help herself again.

“Okay, but even you have to admit this one is terrible.”

“There’s… something romantic about loving someone from afar.” He’s not even buying it.

“Sure, but this is just stalking.”

“It’s just one story.”

“Out of a hundred other terrible stories. Like this girl. Just don’t pick up your phone and -”

“Swan, I will make you sleep in your car.”

“I just don’t get what the appeal of this movie is. Everyone makes such a big deal out of-” She’s interrupted by a handful of popcorn shoved into her mouth, Killian licking melted chocolate off his finger.

“There,” he says, pleased with himself. “Now if you promise to be quiet for the rest of the movie, we can watch Home Alone after, alright?”

Emma just stares at him, eyes wide in disbelief. He did not. When he looks up at her, back on his half of the couch but not quite as far away, a smirk starts to tug at his lips, stretching wide when she spits the popcorn out into her hand.

“You’ve got chocolate all over your face,” he tells her, barely holding back a laugh.

“Whose fault is that?” She drops the handful of mushy popcorn into her empty mug, wiping her palms on her jeans.

Chuckling he reaches out again, wiping his thumb over the corner of her mouth. “I’m sorry,” he says - he’s not - looking at her with very serious, and very insincere, apology.

His attention drops to her mouth, hand settling on her cheek, and traces his thumb along her bottom lip where she’s sure there’s more chocolate. But all she can focus on is how close he is and how much she wants to replace his thumb with his mouth and her breath hitches. ‘Are you sure?’ whispered between heated kisses, his name broken on her lips, her fingers desperately fisting in his hair, falling apart on his tongue, the heat of him inside her, gentle touches and praise breathed against skin as they came together again and again.

His eyes dart back up to hers and she wonders if he’s thinking the same thing as the amusement in his eyes fades and then she’s waiting for him to do something, even if they probably shouldn’t, even if she definitely shouldn’t.

But she doesn’t stop him when he pulls her mouth down to his, lips slanting across hers as he drags her closer. They knock over the bowl, popcorn scattering across the floor when she climbs into his lap, fingers digging into his hair, his digging into the skin at her hip as he presses himself against her, tongue seeking hers.

This is probably a bad idea. In fact it’s definitely a bad idea, because she’s been exactly here before and she knows how it ends. But his lips are on her neck, tracing the line of her jaw, and she lets out a small whimper, hips rolling over the hardness she can feel growing beneath her. He catches her mouth again with a growl, one she knows all too well, and his hand slips under her sweater, calloused palm rough against the skin of her back as he arches his hips up into her, hard and hot against her centre.

She wrenches her lips from his, her fingers finding the buttons of his shirt and hurrying to undo them. She lifts her eyes to his face, finds him watching her, his own gaze dark and heady, hesitates on the next button. “I’m going back to Boston in the morning.”

“I know.”

Her heart beats frantically against her ribcage, as she tries to read his expression beyond the obvious want and temptation. So long as they’re on the same page, she tells herself. That’s all that matters. This isn’t like last time.

***

They stumbled through the door, practically running from the beach, giggling like kids the whole way. He’d kissed her for ages out there by the water, until she told him she thought she would lose her fingers from the cold and suggested they go somewhere warmer.

Now that they were inside though - the apartment new, some of his things still in boxes on the floor - he hesitated. So she took his face in her hands like he’d done before and kissed him, feeling the doubt melt away as he wrapped her in his arms and pulled her close.

They fiddled with zippers of puffy coats, laughing as they unravelled too-long scarves, boots kicked off as they crossed the length of his apartment, Emma letting out a squeal when they fell onto the mattress, the distance further down than she’d expected.

“You need a bed frame,” she laughed, lip caught between her teeth.

“I’ll go to Ikea in the morning,” he promised, claiming it for himself, fingers going to her hair as he deepened the kiss.

It wasn’t what she expected. She’d never kissed anyone this long before, hadn’t ever taken things quite this slow. But he seemed content to continue kissing her for the rest of the night. When she arched up against him he sucked in a breath, pulling back to look at her, “Are you sure?”

There wasn’t any question, not for her. She kissed him again, clothes pulled off slowly, his mouth finding her neck, her stomach her breasts, hands hot on her skin, pulling her closer - always closer.

He asked again, settling between her legs, a kiss to her thigh - “This okay?” - words breathed hot against her center, waiting for her nod before putting his mouth on her. Killian took his time, finding what made her breath hitch, what made her cry out and what made her hips arch up desperately against his tongue, building her up slowly, bringing her over the edge and leaving her trembling.

She kept waiting for him to take what he wanted, to rut into her and find his release, surprised he’d waited this long already. Instead his lips mapped her skin, discovering places he hadn’t yet, drawing his tongue across her body like ink, leaving marks wherever he found a gasp or a sigh - a secret trail for him to follow, hidden from the rest of the world.

He traced the marks with his fingers, mouth falling over hers and they slipped between her thighs, leaving her writhing when he found that sensitive bundle of nerves. She fell apart again, fingers deep inside her, lips speaking praise against her skin until she was left a shaking, boneless mess.

“Gods you’re beautiful, Swan,” he breathed into her ear like a confession, one he’d held onto for a long time.

Emma snuck a hand between them, taking hold of him once more and canting her hips up until she felt him brush against her heat. His groan echoing hers as he slid in just the tiniest bit. “We can stop if you want.”

She shook her head, taking his face in her hands and meeting his lips in a messy kiss. “Please don’t,” she breathed into his mouth, fingers fisting too tightly in his hair.

He took her slowly, the same way he’d kissed her, the same way he’d done everything. She wasn’t used to slowly, to the way his lips kept finding her own, tracing along her neck, hand finding her breast and tongue rolling languidly over the sensitive peak as he moved inside her.

This wasn’t fucking, this was something she’d never done before, something tender and gentle. He made love to her, drawing out her pleasure, staving off his own until she was shaking, nails digging at his back, forehead pressed to hers as he brought them both over the edge.

He stole an exhausted, sated kiss from her lips before settling beside her, pulling her to him. Emma lay her head on his chest, tracing absentminded patterns through the small smattering of dark hair as she tried to school her breathing, to keep her eyes open.

His fingers ran over the length of her arm, turning every few minutes to press a kiss to the crown of her head. “Are you okay?” he asked.

She let out a low, lazy giggle. “How would I not be okay right now?”

“I’m sure this isn’t what you imagined when you asked me to pick you up tonight,” he sighed. He was berating himself. She could hear it in his voice, imagining himself a villain for coming to her rescue, for healing her heart just a little bit - and then making her come three fucking times.

Emma raised her head, meeting his self-conscious gaze and smiling softly. She leaned in, kissed him, relieved when he kissed her back, hand weaving through her hair again like maybe he was trying to keep her there a little longer. When she pulled away he gave her a crooked, hopeful little smile, only growing when she pressed her lips to his again, tasting it.

Tucking herself back against his chest, he curled his arm more tightly around her, fingers tickling along her spine. “Merry Christmas, Swan,” he whispered into her hair.

***

She kisses him again, finishing with the fastenings of his shirt and pushing it off his shoulders. He leans forward enough to shrug it off, not breaking the kiss except to pull her sweater over her head and then dragging her back to him as soon as she’s free of it.

Emma traces the line of his shoulders, over his chest and the hair that blankets it, nails scratching down his stomach, relishing in every inch of soft skin and hard muscle beneath her fingers. His mouth wanders the length of her neck again, tongue teasing the line of her collarbone and down through the valley between her breasts, leaving goosebumps and fire in his wake.

She gasps when he tugs one of the cups of her bra out of the way, taking her nipple between his teeth. She lets out a curse, back arching into him, hips grinding roughly against the outline of his cock through their jeans. Her fingers fist in his hair, holding him there as he licks and sucks at the sensitive peak.

His hands slide along the outside of her thighs, palming her ass and squeezing as he drags her slowly, firmly over his length before standing, taking her with him, legs wrapping instinctively around his waist. His mouth finds hers again as he walks them across the room to his bed, kneeling on the edge before dropping her onto the mattress.

His hands quickly find the waist of her jeans, tugging them open and Emma catches her laugh between her teeth as she helps him slide the tight denim past her ankles. He tosses them aside while she pulls the remaining fabric from her chest. Killian pauses, looking her over slowly and she does the same.

It’s really not fair how much better he looks after so much time - he was already handsome enough when he was young. Now the angle of his jaw is sharpened, his shoulders broader, the hair on his chest darker and thicker. Her tongue runs over her bottom lip wantonly before she tugs him back down to her.

He lowers himself between her open thighs, the scratch of his chest against her breasts and his beard against her neck making her writhe beneath him. Killian’s hand slides over her waist, down across her stomach before going in search of where she’s wet and aching for him.

“Fuck,” she breathes as his fingers tease their way between her legs, turning to hiss “yes” against his ear when he finds the sensitive bundle of nerves there, rolling it under his thumb.

“Tell me if you want this.” - making sure, always making sure - as he slides a finger inside her, adding a second and thrusting slowly, dragging against her walls in toe-curling torture. It takes her a moment to find her voice as he continues to fuck her with his hand, thumb and fingers working in a steady rhythm, a knot tightening in the pit of her stomach.

“God yes,” she tells him, remembering how good he felt inside of her, how full and perfect and right. She scrambles for the button of his jeans, popping it free and making quick work of the fly before sliding her hand inside. She finds his cock, hard and straining in her palm, and he lets out a choked moan when her fist tightens around him.

“Now?” he asks, voice strained, and she nods, not able to find her own with his fingers working her faster, the circles he presses into her clit holding her right on the cusp of her climax.

Her hands shove at the waist of his pants, using her feet to push them further down. He slides away from her, standing to kick them off, and she bites her lip, moaning at the sight of his length bobbing against his stomach. She hears his slightly desperate groan before he’s on her again, mouth claiming hers, hot and messy, tongue sliding past her lips and drawing a whine from her chest.

Taking himself in hand and lining his cock up with her entrance, he hesitates only until she cants her hips, trying to take him inside herself. Her hand finds his back, the other grabbing at his ass as she hooks a leg around his thigh and urges him forward.

They both cry out when he finally sheaths himself inside her, thrust rough, cock thick and long as he slides out slowly only to push back in hard, hips snapping against hers. God yes, she thinks as he fucks her. This is what she’d expected last time, the desperate race towards the edge, her whole body rocking every time he drives back into her, the roll of his hips powerful and so fucking good.

She starts to writhe beneath him, the knot coiling so tightly inside her that she can feel it about to snap. His lips are at her neck, his hand reaching for one of her breasts, palm rolling over her nipple and then pinching it between his fingers as he moves faster. Her nails dig into his sweat slicked back, cries growing louder and more frequent, his curses and praise spoken into her skin between the slide of his tongue and the scrape of his teeth until her back bows sharply, pleasure ripping through her as she comes apart around him.

Emma can feel him following after her, fucking into her at a frantic pace until his own release takes him and he goes stiff in her arms. He collapses on his back beside her, his breathing ragged as her own as they both lay there and wait for their hearts to stop racing and the sweat to cool on their skin.

Killian rolls onto his side, hand reaching for her, fingers spreading over her stomach just below her breast, different from the way he’d pulled her to him last time. His thumb traces absentmindedly along the underside of her breast and she knows they understand each other - or he understands her at least. A one time thing. She’s leaving in the morning.

Killian clears his throat, voice still raspy when he speaks. “Bloody hell, I didn’t know you hated the movie that much.”

She laughs, boneless, exhausted. “Anything to get out of watching it.”

He raises himself up a little, looking over towards the TV. “I don’t think it’s over yet, actually.” He raises a brow. “We could probably still catch the big finale.”

Emma groans, long and suffering. “Please no. I literally can’t think of a worse way to spend the night.”

“Oh?” he asks and she can tell just by his tone what he’s thinking, even before his arm snakes around her waist and he pulls her back to him, rolling and bracing himself above her. “What did you have in mind, then, love?” There’s that cheeky smile again.

His lips are already teasing, feather-light over the spot below her ear, grinding his hips suggestively against hers before she can answer. She’s tempted to let him continue, to let him make her fall apart again and again for the rest of the night. But, “I’m leaving in the morning.”

He nods, giving a nip to her jaw as he answers, “Aye, so you’ve said. Many times now.”

“So this - tonight - needs to be a one time thing.”

Killian pulls back, searching her face carefully. He brushes a piece of her hair behind her ear. “I know you’re not staying, Swan. I won’t ask you to.” Not again, lingers where the words stay unspoken. “This was all just a freak, horrible series of events brought on by bail skippers, snow storms and devilish good looks that landed you into my bed tonight. And in the morning you’ll be on your way back to Boston and I’ll be here trying not to replay everything in graphic detail while I sit next to your brother at Christmas dinner.”

“Ew,” she laughs, shoving at his shoulder.

“But it’s not morning yet,” he finishes, tongue tracing the inside of his lip, gaze fixed on her mouth, waiting. A one time thing for a second time. A bad idea, a dangerous one. A desire she’s going to give into again, one she’s not sure she’ll ever be able to resist. She’ll never stop wanting him, not so long as she stays here.

“No,” she says, sliding her fingers into his hair, tongue sneaking out to tease the seam of his lips. She’ll be gone tomorrow, tonight doesn’t matter. “It’s not.”

***

He’s already up when her alarm goes off in the morning, Emma blinking crankily against the light shining through the windows. It takes her a moment to remember where she is, wrapped up in the familiar spice of salt and leather that clings to the sheets and her pillow, skin bare against the warm blankets. He’s standing by the stove puttering around with something and she watches him for a minute. It’s strange, still being here. She’s not used to her one night stands lasting into the next day.

“Merry Christmas,” he greets when she’s pulled her clothes back on and padded into the kitchen. She manages to mutter. He hands her a slip of paper. “Gus called, said to give him a ring when you were up and he’d come by with the tow.”

“Thanks.”

“There’s coffee,” he tells her, gesturing towards a pot. Her second thank you is more enthusiastic and he laughs. “I know you wanted to get up and on the road as soon as possible.” Emma hums, pouring herself a cup and drinking deeply.

“Can I ask you something?” she ventures, thinking of returning to Boston, of leaving this town once and for all for the second time. He nods. “Why are you still in Storybrooke? I thought you’d have left a long time ago.”

Killian shrugs. “I thought about it a couple of times. It just never felt right. This was the first place that felt like home.” Emma plays her fingers over the rim of her mug, nodding like she understands. “I know that wasn’t the case for you.”

She hesitates, trying to figure out how to explain her complicated feelings about this town. “Storybrooke never felt like home to me,” she admits. “Graham’s place did for a while,” she shrugs. “But that didn’t last very long. Without him it was just a house. Ruth’s did too. But with her gone…”

Killian’s expression softens, sympathy without pity from someone who knows what it is to lose those you love. “It doesn’t feel like her anymore. And I love David but that home is his and Mary Margaret’s now and for me it’s just…” A house, too large and full of too much grief. “I always figured home was someplace I would miss when I left it. But they’re all just buildings,” she shrugs.

Killian nods, looking pensively into his cooling mug of coffee. “I suppose it’s not the places but the people in them that make it home,” he says, finally looking up at her, the only person in this town she’s ever really missed, and the silence hangs heavy between them.

She can’t read his expression, his eyes more guarded now than they used to be, his heart no longer on his sleeve like it had been when they were young. And she thinks that’s her fault. She cut him out of her life for a decade, of course he wouldn’t trust her like he used to. And yet here they are, right back where they were that morning.

She doesn’t know how he feels now, doesn’t know for certain how he felt about her then. But she does know how she felt, how seeing him again has brought back so many of those old feelings, ones she’d always hoped would fade with time, that she’d managed to ignore until now when they risk becoming fresh and raw once again.

And she worries… most of all she worries that if she lets them come flooding back - break through the wall she so carefully constructed around her twenty-one year old heart - that she’ll want to stay.

“Knock knock,” a voice calls, too cheery for the early hour. Killian turns panicked eyes on her.

“What is she doing here?” Emma hisses.

“I don’t know! They weren’t supposed to get here until tonight.”

“I hope you don’t mind,” Mary Margaret continues, already pushing her way inside. “The door was open and we thought with the storm you might need help getting things ready and -” She stops dead in her tracks, David nearly running into her before looking up and staring in shock at the sight of his sister.

“Emma?” Shit. Shit, shit, shit. “What are you doing here?”

“I thought you were in New York.”

“Um…” she hesitates, trying to come up with a story that won’t hurt their feelings - a reason to be in Storybrooke. “Surprise?”

The lie comes almost too easily, Emma and Killian exchanging guilty winces over her family’s shoulders. She meant to come down to surprise them. The storm got in the way and she had to crash at Killian’s for the night. Parts of it are true. It was all planned. She’s thrilled to be home for Christmas. Most of it isn’t.

“How long are you here for?”

“Just the day.” Her grimace is taken for guilt. She can’t spend another night here.

There’s lots to do - or so she’s told, more the type to order in when she hosts her family for the holiday - and they put her to work. ‘Don’t worry, Swan, you can do the easy bits.’ ‘I can cook!’ ‘Whatever you say.’

Her insistence backfires, gagging when they ask her to help prep the turkey, nearly losing a finger chopping vegetables - ‘Give me that,’ Killian takes it from her. ‘Who gave Emma a knife?’ ‘You should be really glad I don’t have one right now.’ - until she’s banished to cookie duty.

“Think you can manage icing without injury or illness?” Killian’s smirk is shit eating and she takes the sugar and milk from him.

“Is it supposed to be this runny?”

Once Mary Margaret has fixed the icing, she’s left with a piping bag and several tins of gingerbread. She’s halfway through, Killian’s hands on the back of her chair, looking over her shoulder at the little man she’s decorating.

“Did they send you here to check on me?”

“Just some run of the mill quality control.” She’d gotten bored a little while ago - ‘two eyes, three buttons and a smile, that’s all you need to do’ - deciding to get more creative. “What on earth are those supposed to be?” he asks, eyes wide as she traces icing in the shape she wants.

“A bow.”

“Swan.” He’s barely holding back his laughter, face red and she narrows her eyes at him. “Please don’t make me say it out loud.”

“What?” Emma looks down at her cookie, at the four others she’s already made - ‘they’re bows!’ - but the icing has spread, the wobbly squares at the top rounded, the two hanging ribbons melded into one. “Oh my God.”

His roar of laughter sends the others over, crowding around her horrible creation. Killian’s barely able to hold himself up anymore.

“Oh,” Mary Margaret says, trying her best when David loses his shit too. “Well, it’ll certainly be the most phallic gingerbread we’ve ever had.” Everyone’s laughing now.

“Got something on your mind, Emma?” her brother snorts and she shoves the cookie in her mouth, destroying - some of - the evidence. “Maybe you should help,” he tells his friend, returning to the kitchen.

“Aye, Swan,” his voice is low, whispered against her hair, breath ghosting over her neck, “got something on your mind?" She tries to hide the way her cheeks heat, goosebumps down her spine. She does now.

They make a pretty good team, Emma supplying the ideas while Killian does his best to execute them. The task quickly becomes a game of finding what she can stump him with. ‘Are you really gonna be smug about being good at icing cookies? That’s the bar you want to set?’ ‘I’m a man of many talents, love, some I’d be more than happy to remind you of.’ She gives up when he turns the chubby little cookie into a skeleton. “Fine, you win. I’m sure this skill will take you far in life.”

People start arriving sometime in the late afternoon, the apartment filled with the smells of Christmas dinner, every shelf of the oven and every burner on the stove in use - her skills in the kitchen finally appreciated when she made them all mac and cheese in the microwave for lunch. Every guest wears the same expression of shock at seeing her standing with the others.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Ruby demands, tactful as ever. Nice to see you too. Emma can tell by the look Ruby gives her that she doesn’t buy this being a planned surprise, but her friend pulls her into a hug regardless, a murmured promise that they’ll be talking about it more later whispered over her shoulder. When Granny asks why she didn’t stay at the inn, she repeats the story about the storm and the accident - ‘Where did you sleep?’ Ruby knows. ‘The couch.’ - and then quickly changes the subject.

Two waist-high heads of strawberry blonde curls come hair barreling through the apartment, Killian returning the identical little girls to their parents, one swinging from each of his arms.

“Girls, we’ve told you before,” Elsa scolds, “Uncle Killian is not a tree.”

“Aye, only his head is made of wood”’

“Is that the best you’ve got, brother?”

Emma watches them play, the girls infatuated with their uncle, smiling into the rim of her wineglass as they attempt to tackle him onto the couch only to be tossed onto the cushions over and over.

She’s caught, Killian looking over, eyes meeting hers, his own lips quirking up tentatively and she feels that same soft warmth from all those years ago spreading through her chest. She doesn’t know what it is, not exactly, but she knows that she’s missed that smile for the last ten years.

One of the twins hurls herself at his stomach sending him falling backwards with an ‘oof’ and Emma has to bite back her laugh, turning and pretending she’s been listening to the conversation when someone asks her a question.

Killian’s apartment is small packed in with what feels like half the town, and when it’s time for dinner everyone finds a spot to sit or stand, plates balanced in their laps or set down on a counter or an end table, whatever surface they can find. Emma manages to snag a spot on the couch, Granny and Elsa next to her, wrapped up in an intense conversation over the benefits of real versus plastic trees.

“How are you fairing?” He takes a seat on the arm of the sofa, one leg still on the ground, plate resting on his knee, and handing her a glass of wine.

“Much better now,” she beams, taking the drink from him. She’s never had so many conversations about her childhood in her life, everyone determined to reminisce about the way they used to spend Christmas, the dinners and the ice skating and the secret party that Ruby would always throw in the basement of the diner. ‘Turns out Granny knew all along.’ The old woman only shrugs, impish smile on her usually dour face.

Some of it hurts, remembering the mornings with Ruth, the presents and the hot chocolate - and the mornings where there were no trees, no presents, no smiling foster parents or siblings. She’d suppressed all of them for so long, determined to forget the way her happiest moments were taken away, forever tinged with sadness so that she’d forgotten how good they’d once been.

When David talked about the Christmas market they all used to hurry to, buying each other cheap gifts from the weird collection of crafts and things people found in their attics, she felt a twinge in her chest. A little snow globe pressed into her hand, red ears and cheeky smiles. A little skull and crossbones she’d taken because she thought she had to, then given away to the first person who ever really understood. She realizes that a part of her does miss it - the people, not the places, like he’d said.

“I’m sorry you got stuck here. I know it’s hardly how you wanted to spend your Christmas.”

“It could be worse,” she admits.

“Here, I saved you one.” Killian hands her a little gingerbread man from the corner of his plate.

“Awe, you’re giving me a little gingerbread dick?”

“It’s clearly a bow. Get your mind out of the gutter, love.”

They’re all decorating the tree - Killian’s nieces arguing over which would get to climb on his shoulders to put the star on top - when she sneaks off to the bathroom, the only place in this apartment with a door that closes.

She just needs a minute to herself, needs a second to reconcile her dislike of this place and the fact that she’s actually enjoying herself. It’s never been safe to let her guard down, but it just keeps slipping around him, and it’s getting harder and harder to put it back up. And she doesn’t know why - after all this time…

Something catches her eye when she looks in the mirror - ready to give herself a talking to, to remind herself why she has that guard at all - a piece of a chain hooked over the corner, the rest fallen behind the back of the frame.

It’s a necklace, long and worn, the silver tarnished from years of wear. A little skull and crossbones hangs from the end. He kept it. All these years. It slips into her pocket, as easily as it had that day at the market, another secret kept between them.

“Are you coming back with us?” David asks when everyone has started to make their way home, the hour late, the glasses empty.

“Actually, I think I’ll stay for a bit. My car is still here…” Emma looks from her brother to where Killian is clearing dishes, his eyes lifting to hers for only a second before dropping them quickly. She doesn’t say she needs to get going, can’t quite bring herself to - can’t quite bring herself to leave, to have this be their final goodbye. “If that’s okay?” His guard is slipping too. She can almost read him again when he nods, enough to know that he might not want her to leave just yet either.

They’re curled up by the fireplace, the dishes done and the room tidied. There’s only the two of them and the silence of the empty room, their voices sounding so much louder against it with everyone gone.

“Do you want to call Gus?” he asks, looking at the time after they’ve talked about the party, gossiped about all their friends. “If you want to get back to Boston tonight you probably shouldn’t wait much longer.”

Oh. “Right.” She tucks her hair self-consciously behind her ear, staring at the fire.

“Unless…”

She looks up. Unless? There’s no question posed, the sentence never finished. But neither moves for the phone. She can’t leave. Not without telling him. Not without knowing if it’s all in her head. Not when it means leaving him behind. Not again.

“Killian, I -” Just say it. “I’m sorry.”

His guard is back up, weak and struggling, but it’s there. “For what?”

“For how I left things - for how I left you.”

Warm fingers tracing over her skin, sitting on the edge of the mattress in the cool morning air, bare toes on the floor, always braced to run. ‘You know you could stay, if you wanted...’ Heart screaming to be heard, too terrified of what could happen if she stayed, if she let herself love him like she wanted to. An apologetic shrug, a glance over her shoulder, shirt pulled over her head, boots laced. ‘I already have the ticket.’

“You don’t have to apologize, love.” It slips again, a small sigh as he shakes his head. “You don’t owe me anything. It was one night, however I felt about it… whatever I might have wanted or hoped for was on me, not you.” But it wasn’t just one night, not really. She can’t make herself say the words. Felt, wanted, hoped, past tense. “I always wondered though.”

“Wondered what?”

He can’t look at her and it hurts. “If you left because of me. If you regretted it or if I did something.”

Her heart sinks. She was such an idiot. “Is that why you never called?”

“I was afraid you wouldn’t answer.”

“I never regretted you, only that that night made it so much harder to leave.”

“Why did you leave?”

“Because of you,” she says finally, the heartbreak clear on his face even as he nods in acceptance. “Remember how I told you I thought Storybrooke was cursed?” Another nod. “Almost everyone I’ve ever cared about in this town is gone - died here, left me here.” Her parents, the Swans, Graham, Ruth, Neal… “I had to leave. And I couldn’t ask you to come with me because -” Her hands shake, her biggest fears spoken out loud. “What if it wasn’t Storybrooke, what if it’s just me? What if I’m the one that’s cursed - to lose everyone I love… I couldn’t lose you too.” But she had, in a way that was so much worse in the end.

“Lose me?”

“I thought it was safer to stay away from you, from everyone I loved - for them… and for me. I know it doesn’t make any sense but I -” He puts a hand over hers, fingers twisting in her lap.

“No, it doesn’t. But I get it.”

She forces herself to look at him. It takes a while - to stop feeling like you have to. And she’s so sick of running. “I would take it back if I could.” She pulls the necklace from her pocket, slips it into his hand, his breath hitching. “Because the truth is…” Deep breath. “I miss you. So much, Killian.”

The silence stretches on too long, her whole world hanging on whatever he’s going to say next, his thumb tracing over the pendant. “Emma.” He hesitates again. Just say something. “I’ve thought about you every day since you left.” Something sparks in her chest, hope. “I think maybe I couldn’t leave,” his fist closes around the necklace, “because I was hoping you’d come back.”

His words are rushed, spoken in a breath before his hands are in her hair and he pulls her to him, his kiss long and deep and perfect. She missed this. She missed him. She tries to apologize again, ‘I’m sorry’ whispered against his lips, but he steals the words from her tongue. ‘Later. We can talk later.’

Later is good, later means after, later means this is more than just right now, more than just tonight. No more one time things - this is the third time, after all.

He lays her down in front of the fire, hands more cautious than they’d been last night, peeling the clothes from her body until she’s bare beneath him and he can find the map he drew so long ago, lips tracing the lines that have faded from her skin.

They make love like they had the first time, no desperate attempt to fuck away the feelings they couldn’t voice, no need to rush for fear they would run out of time. She presses all of her apologies into his body, feels the forgiveness in his touch, fingers tight in her hair when she takes him in her mouth and begins to learn him as well as he does her.

He breathes words that aren’t quite love but could be into the space between them, Emma rocking above him, hands on his chest, his at her hips, dragging him towards the edge with her. Sitting up and pulling her to him, skin pressed to skin, repeating the same words against her lips, against her neck and breasts, ‘I love you,’ spoken somewhere in the moments before they find release, neither sure who said it, only that it’s true as they fall apart, clinging to one another, no intention to let go.

“Does this mean you’re staying in Storybrooke?” he asks when they’re laying intertwined on his floor.

Emma lifts her head, resting her chin on his shoulder and giving a small, hopeful smile. “Do you want me to?”

“Aye, I do. But only if you want to stay.”

She presses a kiss to his chest, above the pendant that now hangs around his neck. “I want to stay with you,” she tells him quietly, heart still timid, unused to being seen. “No matter where that is.”

“There’s always Boston.”

“You’d come to Boston with me?”

He tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, thumb tracing along the length of her jaw, over her lips as he watches her with what she finally knows is love. “I’d have come with you to Boston ten years ago, Swan. All you had to do was ask.”

She kisses him then, her words not enough to do justice to the way his burn through her, fill her from the inside out. He rolls them, settling above her, beginning his exploration again, fingers and mouth finding her where she’s hot and desperate for him, driving her to the edge with careful strokes of his tongue and languid touches that leave her writhing and begging for more.

She comes apart at his hands once again, kisses trailed up her body before he claims her lips with his and pulls her into his side. Limbs tangled, skin warmed by the fire, her fingers trace patterns over his heart, patched up to match her own. ‘I could get used to celebrating Christmas like this.’ He presses a kiss to her temple, words breathed into her hair, ‘Then we will, love, every one.’

❄️❄️❄️

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

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#cs secret santa #captain swan #cs fanfic #cs christmas au #the ghost of bloody christmas past #only one bed #cs angst #cs smut #cs fluff #cs ff #ouat au

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sotangledupinit · 1 year

Text

a little bundle of icing - My CS Gift Exchange Fic

Prompt: Giftee's Wants: Established relationship, cs family fluff, cs parents, modern au with established relationship. NO: character death, angst

SUMMARY: She thought the hardest part would be hiding the gifts from the (mostly) reformed pirate. In actuality, the hardest part has been wrapping them. For some reason, every chance she’s gotten has been foiled by one thing or another.// or Emma tells Killian she's pregnant.

RATING: G for General Audiences

WORD COUNT: 4,575 words

TAGS: Captain Swan, Christmas, Holiday fluff, Pregnancy

AO3

AUTHOR’S NOTE: this was fun to work with and try, as i haven't done much established relationship writing. hope everyone enjoys this!

hi @middlemistcs13 ! i picked your prompt for the gift exchange! as you already know (and read), this fic has been up on AO3 for a few days but here’s the tumblr post to accompany it! yay! for anyone who hasn’t read this yet - i hope you enjoy!

***

“And this Santa Claus… your world doesn’t consider him to be flagrant?”

The answering huff of a laugh from Henry is loud, even from the other end of the table. “Dude. Of course not. He leaves presents for you to reward a year of being a good person.”

“But aren’t you required to cook for him as well?”

Emma’s eyes drift to the end of the table where Henry and Killian stand side by side, each holding a piping bag of icing, one red and one green. Sprinkles litter the table and powdered sugar is dusted across Killian’s leather vest, not that he cares much. Their sleeves are rolled up to their elbows and a mixing spoon is still taped to his brace (a brilliant idea that he and her son supposedly had; the mess they have yet to clean up says otherwise).

She tries hard to suppress her grin at the image but she knows she’s failing miserably so she ducks her head and kneads the dough beneath her knuckles, listening along.

“Well, not really,” Henry says. Emma feels his eyes on her for a moment but she pretends not to notice. “It’s more like a donation or a gift.”

“Ah ha!” Killian cheers, mixing spoon gesturing wildly as he points a finger at Henry. Some of the red icing drips from the bag under the pressure and lands with a plop! on the counter between the naked gingerbread people and sugar cookies. “So it’s not from the goodness of his heart!”

At her quick glance up, she catches Killian’s eye and he winks at her. Her kid can be too easy to rile up sometimes, something Killian likes to do to get back at Henry’s quips about his struggles with modern technology. She doesn’t always understand their relationship, the way they can rile each other up one moment and immediately slide into the caring, supportive step-father/son dynamic the next – but she’s grateful nonetheless to have them be so close.

Henry rolls his eyes. “Yes, it is. He’s basically our world’s Robin Hood.”

“Didn’t this world already have a Robin Hood?”

“Oh my god.” Henry groans and then calls out to Emma, a gallop of green icing landing on the face of a gingerbread man. “Mom, you need to divorce your husband.”

“No, you need to start decorating those gingerbread cookies instead of the table.” She thinks she succeeds in keeping the amusement out of her voice but Killian’s quiet snickering tells her otherwise. “And you,” she continues, aiming her glare at the husband in question, “have to clean up. I’m not letting you two leave without cleaning up first.”

“Are you positive you can’t to come with us, love?”

There’s nothing more that Emma would love to do than pick out a tree with Henry and Killian for their first Christmas in their house when there’s nothing going on. No foes, evils witches, or snow monsters appearing out of nowhere to ruin any holiday plans. Storybrooke has been blissfully peaceful for the most part for the last two years following the Final Battle.

Emma still knocks on wood when those thoughts cross her mind. Best not to jinx it.

Still, as much as she wishes she could join the boys on their tree hunt, she can’t as she has far more pressing matters to attend to. Those being trying to wrap Killian’s Christmas gifts without him finding out what they are first. She thought the hardest part would be hiding the gifts from the (mostly) reformed pirate. In actuality, the hardest part has been wrapping them. For some reason, every chance she’s gotten has been foiled by one thing or another.

Her first attempt was when Killian was going out for a day excursion on the Jolly Roger with Smee. She waited until she was absolutely sure the ship left the docks to pull out her gifts only for her sheriff’s beeper to go off. By the time she handled the situation and returned home, the Jolly had returned to shore and it was only a matter of time before Killian came back.

There were a few more close calls at home after that – enough to make her consider wrapping his gifts at the station. By the time she actually attempted it, David had barged through the front doors at such a speed that Emma’s surprised she managed to hide the gifts in time. Despite what most of the town believes about her mother, there’s no worse gossiper or meddler in town than her father. The only thing possibly worse than Killian discovering his gifts early is finding out about them from someone else.

After that, she assumed her luck had almost completely abandoned her. Christmas is coming up quickly and she can’t bear to give him his gifts without wrapping them. Last year he took so much pleasure in showing Henry how easily he could rip through the wrapping with his hook. She can’t take the idea of preventing the look of glee on both of their faces appearing again.

Plus, she wants to be able to watch Killian unwrap one of the most life-changing gifts ever, see the different emotions play on his face as the realization sinks in.

“I’d love to but I really can’t,” she answers honestly. “I have to handle security at the school’s Christmas fair today and we can’t keep putting off the tree. At this rate, we’d be getting it in January.”

“We’ll pick out a good one, Mom, don’t worry,” Henry consoles. He winks at her once Killian isn’t looking and his comforting smile only grows bigger.

It’s her own fault, really. One of her earlier attempts to wrap Killian’s gifts only resulted in Henry coming home from school to see them laid out on her bedroom floor when he went looking for her. The surprise that crossed his face quickly turned into pure joy and Emma unsuccessfully willed herself not to cry.

No bribing was needed to make Henry keep the gifts a secret. He knows how special this is for her.

For the second time in her life, Emma’s pregnant. For the first time, it’s with someone she loves – her True Love at that – and she has no fear of what the future might hold for her and their baby. She’s excited.

All she needs now is just ten minutes of peace with a guarantee of No Killian so she can actually keep it a secret until Christmas.

Killian and Henry are able to appropriately decorate the gingerbread and sugar cookies after a few elbow nudges are exchanged while she puts the last batch of cookies in the oven, though there are some close calls that Emma has to shut down the moment her eyes catch what one of them is trying to do. She does not want to deal with her father’s sputtering and mother’s giggles at the sight of any cookie decorated in any way less than a G rating.

By the time they’re leaving and Killian is warming up the bug, Henry pulls Emma aside under the guise of finding his missing shoe.

“You’re not really missing your shoe, are you? Because otherwise you’re going barefoot, kid.”

Henry rolls his eyes. “Chill, it’s in my backpack.” He hooks a thumb to gesture at the bag on his shoulders and Emma nods. “Grandpa’s already at the school and says he hopes you ‘feel better’. I’m planning to take my sweet time inspecting every tree with Killian. I’m gonna feed him a bunch of fake facts so that he gets really invested too. Should buy you like two hours.”

Emma worries her lip, shoving her hands in her back pockets so she doesn’t play with her ring, a sure sign that she’s hiding something if Killian sees her. “What if Killian’s researched about Christmas trees though? He may be a pirate but he’s also a nerd.”

Henry exudes a confidence that she doesn’t have, given her track record this season. “Trust me, I know how to rile him up.” She rolls her eyes goodheartedly at that. As much as Killian loved to tease and rile Henry up, her kid loved to do the same just as much. She worried at first that it meant the two didn’t like each other and couldn’t get along, but her worries were quickly tossed away when she saw the two sitting at her kitchen table as Killian spoke to Henry in low whispers, helping him with an issue in his friend group.

He treated Henry like an equal, let him know that everything he said, saw, and felt held value. A trust existed between them that Emma didn’t breach – not that she wanted to. She respected that as much as she wants to be able to do everything for her kid, sometimes he needs to seek out someone else and she’s thrilled that most times he chooses Killian. Ribbing on each other is just another way to show that affection.

Emma bids her goodbyes to the two. Henry’s hug leaves her feeling the warmth one only gets from being a parent, and Killian’s goodbye kiss sends tingles down to her toes. That tingling is the exact feeling that got her into this situation and if she hadn’t been already, the look he gives her as he shuts the door behind him would’ve done it.

She waits for them to make it to the tree farm, according to Henry’s location and update texts, checking in with David who’s covering her shift at the school’s Christmas fair. It is then and only then that she feels comfortable enough to wrap the gifts.

Hauling them out of the closet in no time at all, she makes quick work of wrapping them. Despite the assurances that no one would be bothering her, especially her husband, she still chances a glance over her shoulder every few moments, just to be sure. She’s come this far and she’ll be damned if letting her guard down ruins the surprise.

Wrapping goes seamlessly and Emma triple checks that she has gathered and wrapped all the gifts before she places them in the closet under the stairs with the others. One more thing she can cross off her list.

When Emma wakes up the morning of Christmas, it’s to soft humming against her neck, a Christmas song that’s been on the radio more often than not this last week. She’s just thankful it’s one of Kelly Clarkson’s songs and not Wham!’s Last Christmas.

“Merry Christmas, love,” Killian whispers to her neck before placing a light kiss there. He wraps his arm tighter around her middle, pulling her back flush against his front, and she feels her stomach erupt in butterflies. He doesn’t know it yet but his hand rests right where their kid is growing and she works hard to refrain her glee for the time being.

Instead, she focuses on the trail of kisses he places down her jaw until he leans over her side to plant one on her mouth. She hums contently into the kiss, turning onto her back so she can wrap her arms around his neck. “Merry Christmas indeed.”

They share a smile before he leans back in for a short kiss.

“How long do you suppose we have before the lad comes stomping down the stairs for his gifts?”

Emma considers his question, furrowing her eyebrows when she realizes she forgot to charge her phone overnight and it’s dead. “What time is it?”

“Nearly eight.”

She laughs and shakes her head. “It’s a matter of seconds then, not minutes.”

“Think we can distract him with his PlayStation?”

“Wait – PlayStation? Not ‘Playing box’? Not ‘Stationary play’?” He crinkles his nose at her poor imitation of his accent and shakes his head.

“Of course I’ve learned the names by now, Swan.” He ignores her interjection of ‘Jones’ though it does earn her a smile. “I’ve known them for quite some time. But Henry doesn’t know that and I quite enjoy annoying him with that bit.”

She laughs and runs her fingers through his hair, tugging lightly on the silky soft strands as her reprimand. However, his reaction shows it is anything but. “I don’t know which of you is worse. Honestly.”

The two of them lean in with the full intent to enjoy as much of a lazy morning in bed as possible on the holiday but their lips don’t even meet before it’s interrupted.

“Merry Christmas!” Henry yells as he comes down the stairs. His feet stomp on each step and Emma grins at the way Killian cringes. He pauses on the landing outside their door and shouts before hurrying down the steps with stomping feet again. “You’ve got five minutes before I force you out so get dressed!”

“Like a bloody ogre,” Killian mutters as he rolls off of her. Despite his grumbling, the smile he gives her as he helps her out of bed and pulls her close is soft. The walls between them disappeared long ago and neither of them are afraid of the openness that exists in their relationship. It’s another first for Emma, being able to be so unapologetically herself and so vulnerable with her emotions when before Killian, she’d always been waiting for the other shoe to drop. Never before him did she allow such a complete offering of herself to another person. With him, it doesn’t feel so scary.

It's also why she’s so excited to have this baby. Being with Killian makes anything they face not seem so bad.

The thought of what lies beneath their tree brings a giddiness to her movements that even her husband notices.

“What’s gotten into you this morning?” he asks as he puts on his brace. He sends her a wicked grin that has her toes curling as he attaches the hook – the same one he shined the night before so he could show it off to Henry in all its unwrapping glory.

“I’m just… really happy.”

“Aye,” he says once he comes close to her again, one hand on her waist and his lips descending upon hers. “So am I.”

Their moment is broken by Henry banging on their door, warning that they better come down that instant or he’s opening everyone’s presents. The notion gets a laugh out of her, knowing that despite his threats, her kid wouldn’t follow through with this one. Maybe.

Nervousness doesn’t come to her until it’s time to hand her gifts over to Killian. He sits in a pile of wrapping paper on the couch, the ‘Best Dad in the Universe’ mug Henry got for him sitting on the coffee table. Henry had been sheepish as he handed over the gift, calling Killian ‘Dad’ on occasion now and then, nowhere near a regular occurrence. Still, the sentiment behind the gift, and the true feelings it relayed, left both her son and husband emotional. They exchanged quiet words that left them both teary-eyed and Killian had wrapped it up by showing Emma the mug as if she hadn’t helped Henry design it online. He then sat it on the coffee table so gently like a prized trophy and couldn’t stop looking at it.

If he reacted this way to Henry’s gifts, she can’t imagine the emotion that’ll come with hers.

The two of them have led hard lives, obstacles in their paths trying to prevent them from wanting to push for the light at the end of the tunnel. But they both did, whether out of sheer stubbornness or resilience, she’s not sure, and it held it them together until they found each other. Then suddenly they weren’t navigating the ups and downs of life alone and everything became a bit more bearable day by day.

Fatherhood is something that always came natural to Killian, she could see, and something that he wanted. His pirating ways took him to many lands and realms but he’d gotten to the point where he wanted to settle down and have a family. To live a life of peace he was never granted beforehand. Villains didn’t get happy endings though so he assumed it was out of the cards for him.

Henry accepted him, made him part of their family, and looked to him as a father. The remaining Lost Boys sought out his comforting presence, a familiar figure, despite their tangled pasts or because of it, when they were feeling particularly lonely or destructive, and he provided a guiding hand back. Hell, even baby Neal latched onto him almost as quickly as he did her parents.

There was a contentedness to Killian when he stepped into the role of father-figure that she never saw before. It shined brightest with Henry but she always saw the longing look in his eyes when Henry left for a weekend at Regina’s or when they saw Sean and Ashley with their baby at Granny’s.

Her mother once said, “Happy endings always start with hope.” Their life together was the start. This is the continuation of it.

“Ready for my gifts?” Emma asks. She discretely wipes her sweaty palms on her thighs and takes the gifts from Henry’s outstretched hands. He gives her a reassuring smile and she can only manage a quick, tight but grateful grin in return.

“Thanks, love.”

Killian lifts his hook to open the smallest of the boxes when Emma shoots her hand out to grab his wrist, a loud ‘No’ leaving her lips before she even realizes what she’s done.

Concern fills Killian’s gaze as he leans closer. His eyes rove over her person, searching, cataloging, trying to get any hint of what’s happening. “Emma, what’s gotten into you?”

“Actually…” she starts with a sardonic laugh, tilting her head.

“Ew, gross, Mom,” Henry crimes in, face wrinkled in disgust.

She clears her throat while rolling her eyes and instead taps the biggest of the three boxes. “Open this first.”

“O-kay…” Killian eyes her as he gently, slowly, unwraps the biggest box. Instead it lies a photo album titled Daddy & Me. “It’s blank?” he asks.

“Yeah, it’s for you to fill it with photos.”

“Ah.” Killian turns to Henry. “I suppose we should start filling this up, aye?”

A quick moment of panic flashes across Henry’s face as he looks to Emma for guidance, both of them floundering. “Uh, yeah!” he says in a hurry. “I can help you fill it up.” He then gives Emma a pointed look, Killian none the wiser.

“Open your second one,” Emma encourages. Killian takes another hard look at the album, the content in his gaze soothing any nerves that remained from Emma’s anticipation.

Earlier, Henry laughed smugly as Killian ripped through about thirty layers of wrapping paper to finally uncover the mug. Henry encouraged him to really dig into it, something that flashes Emma’s mind back to the beanstalk and made her laugh. Killian had taken the message to heart.

Now, he uses the hook to lift the edges of the wrapping paper and gently unravels it. Beneath the paper is a box and Killian gives her a watery grin once he sees what’s inside.

His very first Christmas ornament – or at least the first that’s meant specifically for him – lays inside. It features a large brown bear holding a baby bear wearing a diaper. Beneath the figures is a banner that reads, ‘Papa Bear, Est. 2022”.

Emma expects the questioning glance he sends her way and the subtle, confused one he gives to Henry. However, he receives no answers and Emma finally taps the small box. “Now you can open it.”

She bites her lip and her and Henry share a reassuring nod as Killian opens the last gift. Sitting inside the small box, cleaned off and surrounded in tissue paper is a positive pregnancy test.

Killian picks it up with a cautionary gentleness that she hasn’t seen before. His mouth drops open as he stares it down and he mouths the word ‘Pregnant’ over and over again as his eyes get misty. “Is – is this real?” he asks, voice full of emotion. Emma nods, blinking back her own tears.

“Yeah, Killian, it’s real.”

“Gods, love.” Suddenly, Emma is pulled out of her chair and swept off her feet as Killian tugs her into a tight embrace. He kisses every inch of skin he can find, pulling back every few kisses to catch her lips before he embraces her again. His arms are bound around her tightly, the squeeze between them only getting tighter as Killian urges Henry to join their hug. “You’re going to be a big brother, lad. The best there is,” he whispers and Emma nearly lets out the croaking sob stuck in her throat.

As much as it is a monumental moment for Killian, he still includes Henry and still makes sure that he’s wanted around. The notion makes her heart burst. Once again, she’s aware that she never needed any official True Love test to give her confirmation that Killian is it for her. The way he acts proves it more than enough. It doesn’t make her any less emotional, especially as Killian whispers, as giddy as she’d been that morning, “We’re having a baby!”

“Yes, we are!” she whispers back excitedly.

The trio embrace for a few more moments before Henry’s phone rings and lets him know that it’s Regina reaching out. He congrats the two of them, tells them what wonderful parents they already are, and then bounds out of the room.

“Wow,” Killian says with the long release of a deep breath. “You’re pregnant.”

“I am,” she teases.

Killian’s wide grin matches her own and even though he leans in to kiss her, they aren’t able to do much as their smiles keep breaking through.

It’s not until Killian places a hand on her stomach that her breath catches and realization sinks in. They’re really doing this. They’re having a baby. She can’t explain it but she thinks she’s having a girl. Even Killian’s seemingly decided so as well, babbling on about their daughter despite the fact that they won’t officially find out until Emma’s next appointment in two weeks.

They will have a baby. Together.

They’re going to bring someone into this world that’s half him and half her and it’ll be their responsibility to not screw them up.

With Henry it was easier. He was already ten by the time he connected with both of them, respect and manners already instilled in him. All they had to do was encourage them to flourish. But with a baby, they’ll be starting from scratch. In all honesty, neither of them know much of what to do aside from the basics to keep a baby alive, but she figures they’ll approach it like they do everything else: together.

“You know, little one,” Killian starts as he leans down towards her stomach. “Your grandma is a very wise woman and she once told me that happy endings always start with hope.” He swallows, glancing up at Emma for a moment as his voice gets even quieter. “I’m excited to meet you, Hope.”

4 years later…

“No, no, no, love, not like that.”

Emma looks up from drying dishes and fixes her gaze on the other end of the table. Killian and Henry are bent over it, heads close together. Between them, Hope kneels on a chair and squeezes an icing bag with so much force that fat glops of red icing plop onto the cookies, nearly covering an entire group of gingerbread men. She watches the way Killian keeps the rounded curve of his hook, sharp tip pointed away, pressed against the center of Hope’s back to keep her steady, attempting to guide her in how to decorate the cookie while she just wants to mix colors together.

One of Henry’s hands holds a gingerbread man in place for her, fingers turning red from the icing that’s slipped over the side, and he’s quick to grab the green icing bag before Hope’s grubby little fingers can grab it. “Oh no you don’t, munchkin.”

“I’m not a munchkin!” Hope pouts. Her glare is fierce as she turns her attention to Henry, cookies completely forgotten as she stands from her kneeling position.

“Oh really?” he eggs her on, fighting to keep the grin off his face. “How come you’re on a chair and I’m still taller than you then? Munchkin.”

“Stinky nose!”

“Short stack.”

“Hairy back!”

A whistle breaks through their teasing before Emma can step in and all eyes go to Killian. He leaves his hook pressed against Hope’s back even as he straightens and stands tall. “Enough of this nonsense from me crew!” Hope stares at him with wide eyes and a dropped jaw, joy filtering its way into her features.

An aspiring pirate captain herself, the three-year-old takes great glee in seeing her father step into his, admittedly watered down, pirate persona. She turns towards Killian, bouncing where she stands in the chair. Her hands attempt to come together in claps but only succeed in dropping more icing all over her hands and Henry’s.

Killian plucks the icing bag from Hope and places it aside. “Now,” he starts, voice an octave lower. “This mess needs to be cleaned otherwise I’ll let Santa know to toss yer presents overboard! Aye?”

“Noooo!” Hope shouts. “He can’t do that!”

“He knows Santa,” Henry says. He nods to Killian as he catches the wet washcloth Emma tosses to him and begins to wipe his icing covered fingers. “He can totally make it happen.”

“Aye,” Emma adds, grinning wide at the way Killian’s nose crinkles. She holds a second wet washcloth in her hands and comes over to Hope, gently wiping her hands clean. “But perhaps me and Papa can clean up the kitchen while you help Henry put some tinsel on the tree instead. It’d be a big help.”

“Aye, aye, captain!” Hope tugs at her hands, pouting when Emma won’t let them free yet. However, once she’s able to, she turns and jumps on Henry’s back, already urging him towards the living room.

“You know,” Killian says, “you’ve just granted her permission to make a mess even worse than this one.”

Emma grins, “Are you saying you weren’t also desperate for five minutes to ourselves?”

Killian hums, giving her a grin that she knows so well. His arms come around her waist while hers wrap around his neck and their lips meet in a soft kiss. When he tries to pull away, Emma keeps him locked with her and the heat between them rises. So lost in the progressing passion of their kisses, she doesn’t even realize Killian’s lifted her onto the table until Henry voices his disgust.

“Gross, guys,” he says. “We eat there.” He shakes his head, shuddering at catching them mid-make out, and reaches for the extra bag of tinsel on the counter. He holds it up and points at it before he leaves. “For scarring me, I am not cleaning this up.”

A snort comes out of Emma before she can stop it and she closes her eyes, content as Killian presses a soft kiss to her cheek. His hand drifts down to rest against her stomach and she feels the butterflies of excitement start up again. Only two more weeks before they can share their big secret.

“This will be a fun Christmas, love.”

#captain swan #killian jones #emma swan #henry mills #captain cobra swan #swan jones family #a little bundle of icing #my fics #temporarystatus #captain swan fanfic #cs fanfic #cs ff #captain swan ff #holiday fic

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thatginchygal · 1 year

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NEW 12/21: Just a lil’ Christmas fluff for y’all. Set pre-CS 2022, there are very (very) minor spoilers here. Really just an excuse for Turnadette and the Mushy Stuff™️ 😆😍🤩❤️💚🎄💚❤️ Rated G

Thanks to @fourteen-teacups for all her edits and for making writing so fun!!! 💗💗 And thanks to @wednesdaygilfillian for peeking in and giving a boost to reach the finish line!! 💙💙

Happiest of Holidays, friends!!! ❤️💚😘💚❤️

#call the midwife fanfic #turnadette #ginchy fic #Christmas fic #my favorite #aside from vampires #❤️💚🎄🎄💚❤️

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csgiftexchange · 1 year

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GIFT GRAB

Participants: @anmylica @captainodonoghue @cocohook38 @cosette141 @everything-person @i-will-sing-no-requiem @jrob64 @kazoosandfannypacks @middlemistcs13 @nachocheese-itsmycheese @sotangledupinit @their-seafaring-ways @totheendoftheworldortime

Gifts:

Giftee 1 WANTS: fanart of one of their fics, cursed!Killian, Movie au of Divergent Harry Potter Jumanji 2017 2019 or Avatar. NO: permanent character death for either Killian or Emma

Giftee 2 WANTS: missing moments, Killian exploring the land without magic, Captain/Lieutenant Duckling. Has no restriction.

Giftee 3 WANTS: pirate princess, canon au, supernatural au NO: angst, character death

Giftee 4 WANTS: fanart of one of their fics, canon compliant or divergent physical hurt comfort, one bed sharing before Emma and killian are together NO: smut, too much sexual innuendo/intention, character death, dark ones, season 5a, AUs, graphic injuries/gore

Giftee 5 WANTS: au fanfic, fanart, christmas anything. NO: smutt, shirtless fanart, no swearing, no villainizing Neal or Milah

Giftee 6 WANTS: one bed modern au, childhood best friends, sick fic au. Has no restrictions.

Giftee 7 WANTS: enemies to lovers, slow burn, captain duckling, cs role reversal. NO: permanent character death, supporting Neal.

Giftee 8 WANTS: gifsets, enemies to lovers, lieutenant duckling, pirate!Killian -princess!Emma, lieutenant duckling or pirate!Killian - princess!Emma fanart. NO: Graham or Neal.

Giftee 9 WANTS: Hurt/comfort, modern AU, Christmas themed CS fluff, must have happy ending. NO: friendship between Emma & Regina

Giftee 10 WANTS: anything set in season 3 or 4, mutual pining, any fanart. NO: AUs.

Giftee 11 WANTS: angst and/or smutt, western/farm/ranch au, any au, fluffy family holiday/winter fic/art. NO: whump, Ingrid

Giftee 12 WANTS: Established relationship, cs family fluff, cs parents, modern au with established relationship. NO: character death, angst.

Giftee 13 WANTS: Enemies/rivals to lovers; fake dating; captain cobra swan. NO: no major character death (I.e., emma or killian), no victor/ruby

#csgiftexchange #captain swan gift exchange #csge #csgiftexchange2022 #csge22

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snowbellewells · 1 year

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CS Secret Santa 2022: Gift Fic “Let Nothing You Dismay”

Hello, it’s your running late Secret Santa at last!! This fic is my gift for @zaharadessert , my giftee in the @cssecretsanta2020 event. I apologize that I am so close to the deadline for getting it posted on the 26th, but I have truly enjoyed being your Santa this year. I love your writing and CS fics, and I wanted this to be something you would enjoy in return. (I hope I’ve managed that to some degree!) I wanted a bit of one of them taking care of the other when they couldn’t, several of the side characters you mentioned enjoying, and a bit of post-s6 every day life in Storybrooke we could have seen for CS after their wedding. I also couldn’t resist trying to work in multiple Christmas tress in some way after you shared about that tradition from your real life. I can’t really fuss with it anymore though, so I’m going to put it in your hands and hope it will make you smile.

Merry (day after) Christmas @zaharadessert and I’m glad I got to be your Secret Santa!

by: @snowbellewells

Summary: A quick check on the town’s power lines turns into a frightening emergency for Emma and Killian, but their family and friends prove neither of them are lost or forgotten anymore. And that’s not the only surprise this holiday season has in store...

Shivering and futilely trying to keep her teeth from clacking together as they chattered, Emma Swan blew out a worried, frustrated breath and crouched closer before the silent, empty fireplace. It shouldn’t be anything for her to kindle flames within using her magic, but as she stretched her trembling hands stinging with cold - and she feared oncoming frostbite - out toward the hearth once more, not even a fitful spark showed for her efforts.

Her head falling forward, chin resting on her chest, Emma cursed under her breath, feeling her desperation rising, but not wanting to alert her husband to her growing sense of panic. Instead, she gathered a deep, cleansing breath and tried to refocus her energy. Just as Killian often playfully reminded her of himself, they were both survivors, and they would get through this.

A low, pained groan caught her ear, just as Emma had managed to still her racing thoughts, and her breath hitched in her chest, worry clenching her heart once more. Stupid, ridiculous, dashing, selfless pirate, she berated internally as she watched his head toss back and forth on the pillow where it lay. He wasn’t fully conscious, and if she’d had any doubt of that, his moan of discomfort had silenced it; he was too stubborn and tough to have let such a sound escape and concern her if he were fully aware.

Quickly, Emma stood and moved to his side of the rickety bed, where they had managed to perch his wounded and chilled form, before he had eventually sprawled insensibly, at last unable to keep up the appearance that he was fine. Biting her lower lip, which was becoming increasingly chapped and sensitive from the worried action, Emma reached out to brush what she hoped were soothing fingers over his brow, and nearly recoiled with a gasp from the heat now radiating off Killian’s skin. The dark hair that fell over his forehead was damp with perspiration as she brushed the strands back from his brow, and she felt her pulse kick up at the tremor she could feel running through him.

She was no nurse, but she knew that the dangers of a fever running too high, unchecked, for too long could be too awful to contemplate. Once more, she reached deep inside herself for her magic hoping to curb the fever that seemed to grip her husband, or at least to ease his pain or mend the ankle she feared might be badly broken. As before, however, she could feel the power and warmth begin to gather, start the tingle down her arms to her waiting fingers, then fizzle out uselessly. She wanted to cry or scream, angry at herself for her inability to use magic now when they needed it more than ever, when her True Love needed her so badly. Why was now the time that her power seemed unable to offer any comfort?!?

To think that they were in such dire straits, essentially stranded in the empty hunter’s cabin in which her parents had once weathered a storm as well, Killian unable to go further, the wind howling and snow flying and a winter storm predicted to be coming in, and it had happened through plain bad luck and natural bad weather, not some malevolent villain or fairytale creature or curse. She and her devoted deputy spouse had ridden out to the town line to make sure that all seemed well and that the large power line which had gone down before and put the town in a blackout was sturdy and working normally before any more winter weather came rolling in.

Though all had appeared well out where the large transformer hung and Storybrooke’s power supply was undaunted, the wind had been fierce and gaining in strength with each second that passed by. Concluding that all was as it should be to withstand the onslaught, they had turned to trek back to the cruiser through the rapidly collecting snow when an exceptionally powerful gust nearly knocked Emma off her feet with a whistling howl. She had barely righted herself when she heard a loud, snapping sound, alarmingly like the echoing crack of a gunshot, and Killian had plowed into her, knocking them both back into a snowdrift and landing mostly on top of her.

Spluttering, Emma found herself gripping Killian’s forearms tightly for a sense of grounding, not sure what had just happened. For a second, she was breathless and disoriented enough not to pick up on the tense undercurrent of pain in her husband’s voice or the taut effort at hiding it in his features, only the worry in his wide blue eyes as he questioned whether she was alright.

“I’m fine,” she managed awkwardly shuffling to try sitting up, “but why did you…?” She knew he wouldn’t have bowled her over for no reason, but she still felt a shiver run through her and the question stall in her throat when her eyes caught sight of the enormous tree limb lying in the road near them - right where she had been standing moments ago. The wind had surely broken it loose, causing the noise they had heard, and Killian’s faultless sharp reflexes had saved her from the thing coming down on her head and possibly being crushed.

She lunged forward to embrace him shakily, both stunned and grateful only for the quick movement to cause a hiss of discomfort to escape his clenched teeth and alert her that he had been injured in his heroics.

From there it hadn’t taken long to ascertain that he had done some serious damage to his ankle in his dive to push her to safety and shield her with his own body. And, despite his protests that he had sustained numerous worse injuries and attempts to soldier on, when he had attempted to place his full weight on the injured extremity, he had barely kept from toppling to the ground. With Emma as a crutch at his side, they had managed a few hobbling steps, only to discover that the cruiser would get them nowhere. The downed limb had partially trapped the car as well as blocked the way back to town. The wind and snow swirled around the whole area so much now that it was practically a wall of white they were looking into and there would have been no safe way to stay on the road, even if they could get through.

Rather than freezing to death there on the road or in the stalled vehicle, they had remembered the abandoned cabin and made their way toward it haltingly, but by the time they had reached the rough-hewn porch, Emma was genuinely worried for her pirate. Not only was the pain he tried to mask clearly radiating up his leg and throughout his body with each movement, but he was shaking with the strain, sweating at the exertion in spite of the bitter chill, and with him not dressed nearly as warmly as she was either. Normally it was a playful subject for teasing, just a quirk she had long since accepted as a part of him. However, as he still shivered and quaked despite the hours they’d been inside the cabin, and him under all the blankets she’d been able to find - fire or no - she feared he had taken a chill she didn’t know how to reverse and that he could little afford.

Thinking back on it all, how had the day taken such a frighteningly drastic turn so abruptly? They’d begun the morning with mugs of hot cocoa at their respective desks, soon joined good-naturedly by her father as they discussed what to bring for Christmas dinner and when Henry would arrive home from college. They’d all three struggled not to laugh at Regina’s affronted tone when she had called with the petty complaint that Leroy and Will Scarlet had tramped through her garden as they stumbled home singing raucously after closing down the Rabbit Hole and damaged her poinsettia plants. How had a day like that brought them here by dinner time?

She ought to be used to such twists of fate, Emma supposed as she crossed to the rough sink, drew a cup of water, and brought it back to force some liquid into Killian and smooth a trail of it down his overheated cheek. Still, life in Storybrooke had been much quieter since their marriage and the Black Fairy’s defeat. Even Rumplestiltskin seemed to have retreated back to his shop and his quiet seething and plotting rather than outright opposition. Seemingly grateful Belle had not left him and to have received a chance to do better by his second son than he had his first - there seemed to exist a tenuous peace with the wily pawnbroker as he mainly kept to himself and his family’s affairs. Was this all her fault? Could she not heal Killian now or transport them to safety because she had let her guard down? Had her powers weakened or gone lax with disuse?

Not knowing what else to do, while her husband shuddered and a wracking cough rattled in his chest, Emma lifted the covers to slip under them as well and scoot as close to him as she could, enveloping his lean form as much as possible in her arms. She wasn’t sure Killian was even aware of her presence, which ratcheted her concern for him all the higher, but all the same, she held his back to her chest, plastering her form - and, she hoped, any body heat she had to offer - along the line of his form. Squeezing her eyes closed with concentrated effort, she continued trying to call upon her magic, not sure yet why it had seemingly deserted her. Rather than the burning Killian’s skin had given off earlier, he now felt chilled and clammy to the touch, and Emma wasn’t sure which worried her more.

At least they had been on duty, and so Hope hadn’t been with them, Emma mused. Unable to speak with her husband in his current state, and trying to still her nervously spiraling thoughts of what might yet happen, Emma drew some small measure of comfort from the fact that their little girl was cozy and safe out at her mom and dad’s farmhouse. Snow had assured her that she and Hope would be more than happy making and decorating Christmas cookies while the rest of them kept law and order in town. Wistfully, she could picture her daughter and her mother icing cookies with all the perfect candies, sprinkles, and trimmings, singing along to Christmas music in Snow’s perfectly decorated kitchen as they did. It made her smile to picture it, even as a small pang shot through her heart at the thought that it could have been a true childhood memory, if things had been different, if she had been able to grow up with her parents. All the same, she begrudged Hope none of the happiness she could have with her grandparents and was incredibly relieved to know she was with them now.

Killian’s form shuddered violently and Emma held her breath as he muttered gibberish, not knowing anything else to do for him, but to hold onto him tight and try to share her warmth, whisper reassurances and press her lips to the back of his neck, praying he would weather the night with some improvement by morning, or at least that by then she might know what to do. Go for help herself and leave him defenseless? She hated to do it, but he couldn’t languish in this state forever either.

Would David by chance have wondered why they never came back to the station? Could he possibly rouse anyone else to help him in his search, despite the awful conditions? Emma didn’t know the answers to those questions, but she was beginning to place hope in it, even more than she wanted to admit to herself. Killian trembled against her without speaking, and as affectionate, verbose, and always concerned for her above all else he usually was, his relative silence troubled her more than even the injuries she was aware of or the exposure she knew he was suffering. Pulling out her cell once more, Emma glanced at the blank screen hopelessly. She was forever forgetting to charge it and running out of battery. It didn’t usually become a problem, but she was kicking herself now that she couldn’t call for help and let someone know where they were.

Killian’s hoarse voice mumbled fitfully, and she pulled him closer yet, burying her nose between his shoulder blades and breathing in his unique spicy, saltwater scent. She reveled in the closeness and comfort of his presence as she always did - even if the reason for cuddling him so tightly right now was far from reassuring.

“You better hang in here with me, Pirate,” she whispered fervently, her lips brushing his ear as she attempted to speak directly into it. Of course, she wasn’t sure how much he was aware of, but she needed him to hear her, to know she was there beside him, and how much he was needed and treasured. After all he had lived through in centuries and realms of life, an ankle injury and bitter cold surely could not be his undoing.

She was rubbing her hands up and down his shivering arms, when Emma suddenly thought she might be hearing things - the sound of muffled voices calling out to each other on the brittle air and footsteps stamped through the piled snow on the cabin’s porch.

Breath caught in her throat, Emma’s heart fluttered wildly with a quickening hope at the possibility, and she was just debating leaving the bed to look out, wondering if she should let cool air in to reach Killian if she did, when the door was pushed in with a familiar shout of her name.

Then all was a familiar blur of overwhelming relief as she practically vaulted from under the covers and across the room to throw herself into her dad’s anxious arms. At that moment, after the worry and uncertainty of several hours with Killian in continually worsening shape, David Nolan’s tall, sturdy bulk felt like an unbreakable bulwark when his strong arms wrapped around his grown daughter, practically lifting her off her feet and hand cradling the back of her head. She could tell by the way she could feel his heart beating quickly through his coat that he had been worried for the both of them - and thank goodness he had.

Emma allowed herself a few comforting moments to bask in the sense that help was there and she was no longer alone. Then she whirled to pull her dad toward Killian babbling to explain all that had happened as she did, almost before it struck her that her father wasn’t alone. Pressing into the small cabin behind David were at least five of her honorary uncles - her mother’s once surrogate family in the Enchanted Forest, Will Scarlet bragging loudly to August that he’d known the old cabin was the place to look first, Sean Hermann, and numerous other friends and neighbors she’d come to know over the last few years. Enough reinforcements that it took her breath away to think all of them had come to she and Killian’s rescue. Now that they’d been found, Killian being just fine didn’t seem such a far off Christmas miracle any longer.

~~~~ * ~~~~

As it turned out, Killian’s ankle was broken, but once he was settled safely in Storybrooke General, checked over by Dr. Whale, the ankle set in a cast, warmth and heat restored to him, and a much more healthy color to his face and awareness in his eyes, things felt much less dire. Dr. Whale and his staff did want to keep the Captain overnight for observation, but it seemed that other than needing to figure whether or not he would be able to manage crutches and how else he might get around while his ankle mended, her husband was well out of the woods.

He livened up even further once Snow arrived with their little girl, and Hope was curled up against his side in the hospital bed, her ever-curious enthusiasm not at all daunted by the sight of her papa in a hospital gown, the cast, or the IV trailing from his arm. Instead she prattled away talking about all the cookies she and Gamma had made - a few of which had been snuck in for her parents to try - and how much fun she’d had decorating the miniature tree she and Snow had brought in with them to brighten Killian’s room. Nevermind that he might only be there one night, it was completely her mother to want to spruce the place up with holiday cheer.

It only grew more humorous when August arrived just as her parents had settled into chairs, Marco and Granny Lucas in tow, all looking relieved to see them safe and well. August’s crooked grin warned Emma something was up, even before his twinkling, mischievous eyes took in the small sapling Hope and Snow had brought and then presenting the slim, four foot spruce he and Marco had carried in themselves, hidden behind them until that moment. Killian’s rich chuckle added to the ridiculous but healing humor of the situation, as they wrestled the second tree for a one night stay into hospital room that was quickly becoming festively crowded. Granny didn’t hesitate a bit either, dithering over to Killian’s side and reaching across Emma to drape a hand-knitted scarf, as red and striking as Emma’s favorite of her husband’s vests around Killian neck and flicking the end at Hope’s nose as she did. “For you, Captain Jones,” she teasingly scolded with an emotional squeeze of his hand belying her words, “since it seems you don’t have the good sense to come in out of the cold.”

Killian bore the jest with good humor, and just as those visitors had departed, Sean and Ashley Herman with little Alexandra arrived, bearing a blue and white fake tree they swore they didn’t use anymore. After them, Will and Leroy appeared, arguing over who had found it, but bearing a freshly cut garland to drape in the room’s window sill. By the time Smee and some of the other members of Killian’s old crew who still remained in Storybrooke stopped in to pay their respects (and bearing a hidden flask “to ease their former commander’s pain”) it was truly beginning to look a lot like Christmas in Smee’s stunned way of speaking.

By the time Emma and Killian were at last left along again to rest, the room was nearly as bedecked and glimmering as they living room at home with tree and stockings and fireplace all aglow. At some point in all the chaotic celebration and constant stream of visitors, Emma had managed to sneak away from a moment, call Regina and managed to catch her in enough of a decent mood to ask her the question that had begun to niggle the back of her mind as why her magic might have failed to help them that day.

Now that she was snuggled against her husband’s side and he was holding her in return whispering how glad he was to know that she was alright, that they had both weathered the storm and would be home again tomorrow with their little girl and their nearly grown son with them soon, Emma couldn’t hold back what she had learned any longer.

“Killian?” she breathed, stroking her fingers across his brow gently.

“Aye, Love?” he asked, his voice so low and sumptuous, wrapping around her and warming her insides deliciously. How could she have ever resisted him the way she had once upon a time?

“There’s something you should know,” she murmured, pressing a quick kiss to his mouth and then pulling from her pocket the bit of mistletoe she’d had Snow scrounge up for her.

His eyebrow quirked up with interest, but he didn’t interrupt, and Emma pressed on. “When you were hurt, and I couldn’t heal you, it was a horrible feeling. My magic wouldn’t work to help us, and I couldn’t call for help. I couldn’t do anything but hope and wonder why my powers were failing us.” She swallowed hard and then smiled shakily, “As it turns out, there’s actually a pretty wonderful reason for that.”

“Is that so?” he asked playfully, chucking her under the chin.

She nodded, barely withholding the grin threatening to spread across her face. “Apparently, when someone with magic is expecting, the changes and shifts in hormone levels and so on, can throw her abilities all out of whack as well. Why I didn’t notice that with Hope, I’m not sure, but…”

Killian’s eyes widened, shimmering not just with surprise and joy but with a swell of emotion too, effectively interrupting her rambled explanation. “Emma….Love…. Are you telling me that we’re expecting another child?”

For a moment, words wouldn’t pass the lump in her throat, so Emma could only nod vigorously yet again, thrilled at the excitement lighting up her pirate’s expression. A minute or so passed and then she managed to add. “Are you ready to add a little Liam David to our brood?”

“Without doubt,” her husband rejoined without hesitation, “but I have a feeling it’ll be a little Lianna Morgan, not a Liam.”

“Really?” Emma cocked her head, playfully trying to convey doubt in his ability to predict their unborn’s gender so readily when all she really wanted to do was left out loud at his antics, kiss him all over his face, and cuddle up at his side to sleep for a week.

“That’s quite the Christmas gift, Darling,” he spoke intently. “Boy or girl, I couldn’t be more blessed. But I can’t help believing that I’m meant to be surrounded by lovely golden-haired angels - a whole house full if I have my way.”

“Flatterer,” she breathed, not sure how else to combat the effect he had on her, even confined to a hospital bed in a flimsy cotton gown. She hoped it never changed.

Despite the frightening turn the day had taken and the close call they’d survived, as he playfully held the mistletoe above them and their lips met gladly, Emma still found herself believing she couldn’t be more lucky if she tried.

Tagging a few others who might enjoy: @jennjenn615 @searchingwardrobes @kmomof4 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @laschatzi @wefoundloveunderthelight @anmylica @jrob64 @apiratewhopines @elizabeethan @donteattheappleshook @stahlop @sotangledupinit @xarandomdreamx @cosette141

#csss2022 #cs secret santa #cssecretsanta2020 gift fic #let nothing you dismay #cs future family fluff #brief Killian whump #ouat holiday one shot #future cs fic

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elizabeethan · 2 years

Note

XMAS prompts #13 "You'd make a cute elf."

Killian has always been self-conscious of his 'elf' ears bc of the teasing he's endured his whole life, but when Emma Swan comments on them, saying he'd make a cute elf, he embraces his elfen feature and shows her that not only does he make a 'cute' elf, but a devilishly handsome one as well 😏

Hi Hollye do you even remember sending this almost 2 months ago? Anyway...

Here's a continuation of of Never More Than I Can Take, or Sad Baker Killian, who suffers through Emma making store-bought cookie dough.

Read on Ao3

Read my Other Stuff

Rated T

~~~~

“Babe!”

Her voice is as demanding as ever as she shoves excitedly through the door, and he smiles as he stands from the couch to greet her. Fiery is a word he often uses to describe her, and it can’t be more true now as she shucks off her down coat and kicks away her snowy boots, running through the small apartment they now share towards the kitchen counter with a shopping bag in hand.

“Hi,” he greets, and the love of his life, the woman who surprises the hell out of him by loving him back, grins his way.

“Hello,” she answers cheerfully. She’s distracted immediately, reaching into her bag and pulling out a thin box, turning it and reading briefly before running to the oven.

“Where’s the fire?”

“It’s an electric oven, babe, not gas.”

“And it’s such a pity.”

She smiles as she pushes forcefully against the buttons above the stove, setting the oven to 350 and then scurrying around the kitchen until she locates a sheet pan and douses it excessively with cooking spray, much to his chagrin.

“What are you making, love?”

“Cookies,” she says with a beaming grin, her voice like a song as she rips open the box she came in with. He groans.

“Not these,” he begs as he steps towards her and picks up the plastic wrapped blobs of sugary dough. “These aren’t cookies, my love.”

“Yes they are! And look at the elves!”

“You know you’re engaged to a baker, right? This is blasphemous.”

“ Elves ,” she insists, pointing at the lumps from hell and glaring at him. She peels one off of the horrible sheet of cardboard and places it in the corner of the tray, almost squealing as she grins at him again. “Look how cute! It’s Christmas, babe!”

He hums, trying to maintain his air of disgust, almost reminding her that it’s only the 23rd of December, although the joyous look on her face makes it difficult. He steps up behind her and places his hand on her hip, pulling her back slightly so that she’s pressed against him and he can trace his lips along the length of her neck. “Very festive,” he agrees.

With a sigh, she leans her head back against his shoulder, although she never does give up on the bloody cookies .

He’s never felt like this before. He’s never been able to have a conversation like this with someone before. Banter is not something he’s used to, and the playful fun they poke at one another is something he’s had to adjust to. He feared offending her at every turn, and yet she somehow always knows when he’s joking. It makes it easier for him to joke freely with her, and he loves the way their relationship has flourished.

“There,” she says, her voice grabbing him and dragging him from his thoughts. “Look at those little elves.”

“Wonderful.”

She dances out of his arms and hums as she places the tray on the top rack, bending irresistibly, though he does resist grabbing her ass for fear of sending her straight into the oven. “Seven minutes,” she announces and he cocks his head.

“That's it?”

“I want them chewy.”

“Raw, you mean?”

She smirks, rolling her eyes and walking out of the kitchen towards the couch which she flops onto face first. Immediately, he follows her, climbing on top of her and burying his face in her hair, hips pressed to her rear, a kiss pressing to the side of her neck, and she giggles.

“Good day?” she asks against the couch cushion. He nuzzles his nose against her neck, the warmth radiating off of her intoxicating in their chilly apartment. He hums affirmatively and kisses her once more, pressing up onto his left elbow and flipping her over with his hand to face him.

“It was alright, only I missed my fiance.”

She hums with a soft smile and lets her eyes flutter, leaning up towards him to capture him in a kiss. Her hands glide along his back, one reaching into his hair and tugging on the growing locks and the other gripping his ass and pulling him down towards herself as she lets out a soft sigh. He’s been meaning to cut his hair for weeks, but he hasn’t gotten around to it, and he’s finding that he likes the way she uses it as a handhold while she’s kissing the life out of him.

Her lips and tongue glide along his perfectly, always fitting just right, soft and pliant yet demanding. He loves the way she always takes exactly what she wants from him, never shy about what she needs. He loves the way they fit together like the last two pieces of a puzzle, his heart rate picking up in satisfaction.

His hand is sliding along the length of her waist, appreciating the soft curves beneath her sweater and the gentle swell of her breast as he squeezes and she lets out a moan, but they’re interrupted by the loud, shrill beep of the timer, and in her excitement, she bites his lip and practically throws him off of herself, scrambling towards the oven.

“My elves!” she exclaims as she tugs on the mits to protect her hands and pulls the tray from the oven, dancing happily as she sets it upon the stovetop and turns off the heat. “They’re perfect!”

“They look like little demons,” he tells her as he takes in the melted, misshapen globs of barely-cooked dough. She gasps in offense, timidly poking one and then picking it up and tossing it between her two hands.

“How dare you! They’re adorable and perfect.” She holds the cookie up to him and he raises a brow in confusion, almost thinking she’s trying to force feed the sugary mess to him, but she holds it beside his cheek and smiles. “You’d make a very cute Christmas elf, you know.”

He can’t stop his face from falling for just a second, trying to pick it back up before she notices, but she always notices, even though he’s almost back to smiling again.

“I’m sorry,” she says immediately, dropping the cookie and stepping closer to him. She doesn't even know what she’s apologizing for, but she’s quick to do it anyway. “I didn’t mean…”

He takes her hand, meeting her eyes and reminding himself of why they're so perfect together. They’re silly, they have fun with one another, they’re casual and carefree and he loves that about them. He loves the way he can make jokes with her and she laughs them off, and the way that she can do the same to him. He loves this about them, and loves her for it, and he isn’t sure why he lets this one small thing bother him.

Perhaps he had forgotten about this small insecurity, having not had it pointed out to him in so long. Perhaps he forgot about the way the other inmates laughed at his expense and he was forced to laugh along, hiding his foolish pain. Perhaps he’s forgotten about the way his father would pick at each and every one of his insecurities, drunk or not, and that this is one of the only one’s he never grew out of.

“I’m sorry, love,” he smiles softly, shaking his head. She waits so patiently, her worry so clear on her face as she pinches her brows and bites her lip, but she never presses him. “I didn’t mean to make you feel bad, Emma. I didn’t even realize…”

She wriggles her hand free from his, using both to cup his cheeks and pressing onto her toes so that she can hold their foreheads together. She breathes him in, he does the same to her, their eyes shut and his mouth millimeters from hers.

“I love everything about you,” she finally whispers, and with each word, her lips graze gently against his own and tickle his skin. “Everything. I’m sorry if I upset you.”

“It’s alright,” he whispers back. “I didn’t even know I would be… It shouldn’t matter.”

“But it does. I think you’re perfect and I love your ears, Killian. But if it’s something you’re insecure about, of course it matters.”

He gulps, sighs, steps away from her for a moment to collect his thoughts, leaning back against the counter and pulling her into his arms to hold her close. Sometimes, although they’ve come such a long way and he’s grown so much because of her belief in him, he still finds it easier to speak his mind when he can’t see the look on her face. Somehow, he still worries she might judge him, despite how foolish that fear may be. So he holds her close, her face against his chest so that he can feel the warmth of her breath through his shirt, and he admits, “Sometimes I forget that I don’t have to worry about these things with you, I suppose. You’re unlike anyone I’ve ever known.”

Her grip on his waist tightens, her face pressing more firmly against his chest and her lips pressing a kiss against his shirt. “That makes me sad,” she whispers. “You deserve to be loved for who you are.”

“I am,” he insists, because saying it makes it easier to feel it.

“Forget what everyone else has said,” she implores. With a grin, she pulls away and stares at him, her hand cupping her cheek and her thumb tracing beneath his eye. “You’re perfect, cute little elf ears and all.”

It’s amazing, the way she can pull him so quickly from the darkened thoughts that used to plague him so often. Before he met her and fell in love with her, he thought constantly of the pain he’s endured, of the mistreatment he grew accustomed to, and since knowing her, he’s realized that he’s worth more than that. He’s learned that, even though he had a shit dad and even though his fellow inmates took every opportunity to rag on him, it doesn't matter anymore. He doesn’t have to associate the things he hates about himself with the people who hated him because the woman who loves him has changed everything. All it took was some reminding that his disliking for this small detail about himself doesn’t matter because his pointy ears don’t change that she thinks he’s a good person.

“I love you,” he reminds her needlessly, and she smiles. “Though, I think I'd prefer to be thought of as a devilishly handsome elf.”

“Okay,” she agrees, leaning up towards him so that her lips almost meet his. “I think that’s entirely accurate.”

“Aye?”

With a nod, her fingers slink along his sides until she’s gripping the hem of his shirt, tugging it over his head was a satisfied smirk and a hum, her nails scratching lightly against the hair smattered across his stomach as his shirt hits the floor. “A sexy elf, too.”

He can’t answer; before he even knows what hits him, she’s reaching behind him and then shoving a damn cookie into his mouth.

He would gag, but it’s… surprisingly good.

~~~~

Tagging:

@courtorderedcake @kmomof4 @stahlop @klynn-stormz @laschatzi @emelizabeth88 @lfh1226-linda @kday426 @timeless-love-story @captain-emmajones @gingerpolyglot @ebcaver @ilovemesomekillianjones @teamhook @superchocovian @itsfabianadocarmo @tiganasummertree @gingerchangeling @jrob64 @onceratheart18 @xhookswenchx @winterbaby89 @swampmedusa @ultraluckycatnd @dancingnancyy @love-with-you-i-have-everything @shireness-says @snowbellewells @hollyethecurious @ouatpost @daxx04 @the-darkdragonfly @donteattheappleshook @eeteeaytay @xsajx @itsfridaysomewhere @alexa-fangirl-forever @jonesfandomfanatic @wefoundloveunderthelight @qualitycoffeethings @rapunzelsghosts @spaceconveyor @badcats-andmice @batana54 @sailtoafarawayland @deckerstarblanche @zaharadessert @xarandomdreamx @pirateprincessofpizza @captainswan21@hookedmom @lostintheskyfaraway @undercaffinatednightmare @strangestarlighttree @emmythedaydreamer @killianslefthook @sarcasticandromantic @last-tsarina

#never more than I can take #never more than i can take ff #sad baker killian #captain swan #cs ff #ask #hollyethecurious #holiday asks #cs fluff #cs angst

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seriouslyhooked · 5 years

Text

Dear No One (Part 1/3)

Short CS holiday story, broken into three parts, where Emma is unlucky in love and decides that for her Christmas wish she’d like to find the right person for her. In an attempt to write what she wants into existence, Emma writes a letter to the man she wants to find someday and then shenanigans ensue. Rated T/M (basically I haven’t decided yet how smutty it’s getting) and based off of the song ‘Dear No One’ by Tori Kelly. Available on FF here and AO3 here.

A/N: Hey everybody! So this little fic started off as a super fluffy idea I had at the end of the summer. I actually posted about it on tumblr, and a few of you begged me to write it, but I warned you it might be hard. Even then I knew that this was a story I needed a little more time with, and as such, what was once a mixtape contender is now its own separate story. The chapters will be short, but I want to jump back and forth between Emma and Killian’s POVs so I felt separating it out was best. It’s also now taking place during the holidays, because I have Christmas fever and I don’t care who knows it. Anyway, this chapter begins with Emma realizing that her Christmas wish is that she wants to find love. She tries to take a first step to finding it, and it might not go exactly her way... Hope you guys enjoy the fluffy, adorable premise, and thanks, as always, for reading!

“Okay Ruby. You got us all together because you said you had something to share. Then you spend all night deflecting. What gives?”

It was the question on everyone’s mind since they walked into Ruby and Graham’s apartment earlier tonight, and Emma was glad that Elsa had been brave enough to ask it. Ruby had made it clear to each of them that tonight was special and big and important, but when they arrived she never brought up what was actually happening. Instead she’d plied them with wine and food and Christmas cookies, as they gathered together listening to holiday music in the ambiance of her friend’s festively decorated home. But while that was lovely (and much needed after Emma’s grueling work week), it was odd and more than a little suspicious.

“Well, if you insist on knowing…” Ruby allowed her words to trail off as she lifted the fingerless gloves off of her hands. For anyone else the article of clothing would seem ‘extra’ or ridiculous. It wasn’t that cold outside. Okay it was – because New England in winter was brutal – but inside it was nice and toasty. But that was part of Ruby’s style. She was all leather and red and black and wearing biker gloves to a wine night wasn’t unheard of. But when she revealed what lay underneath – a huge and absolutely beautiful diamond ring – her friends all gasped at once.

“Holy crap, what a rock!” Emma blurted out, forgetting herself for a moment as she took in the piece of jewelry that had to cost more than she’d make in six months.

“What she said,” Mary Margaret, Belle, and Elsa replied at once, and once their shock wore off all four friends were on their feet and celebrating with Ruby. They were so happy for her and for Graham, and it was truly a magical thing. For Ruby, who was a long-time bachelorette with no intention of tying herself down, this was BIG. It was epic, and it spoke to Ruby’s love for her boyfriend – nay, fiancé – that she was planning to get married and have that typical, happily ever after.

“When did it happen?” Elsa asked at the same time that Belle inquired. “How did he do it?”

“Last night at dinner. One second we’re sharing this to die for tiramisu, I mean like wow wow wow so good, and the next he’s proposing.”

“She would manage to slip a dessert review in even at a time like this,” Emma whispered to Elsa and the two of them laughed together.

“And you’re sure it wasn’t the tiramisu talking?” Belle asked, her tone a bit sheepish. “Not that you don’t love Graham, it’s just…”

“I love dessert more than life itself, I know I know,” Ruby said as she shook her head. “But no it wasn’t that. It was him. I love him, you know? I try to picture what life would be like without him and I can’t. He’s it for me. He’s my person.”

“Heck yes he is!” Mary Margaret said happily, no doubt reveling in the fact that she and her husband David had introduced these two lovebirds a little less than a year ago. “God this is wonderful. There’s so much to plan, so much to do! This is going to be amazing! And to have the proposal at Christmas time? It’s like magic. Real live magic!”

The friends all agreed that this was indeed very special, and the night’s conversation shifted from what it had been before to musings on what Graham and Ruby’s wedding and life together would look like. It would obviously be different than everyone else’s, but the through line that all of the friends had was experience with finding the one. Mary Margaret had David, Belle had her long time boyfriend Will, Elsa had her new beau (who Emma was certain would be a fiancé soon enough) Liam, and the only one who was single and without that kind of experience was Emma. She had never been in love – at least not a love that was made to last forever – and as happy as she was for all of her friends, she couldn’t help the feeling that came later that night when she’d returned to her flat and was alone once more.

It wasn’t jealousy, per se, because jealousy implied something ugly and resentful. What Emma felt was a longing. She wanted something like what all of her friends had found. What they had was love, true love. The kind of love that lasted and thrived. It was a love built on partnership and connection, and it was a beautiful, magical thing. All her life Emma had wondered what such a love would be like and she’d never found it. She’d often believed that was her fate. She was a girl who came from no family. She had started out in this world with nothing and no one, and maybe she was meant to always be that way. Perhaps it was too much to have been blessed with friends who felt like family. Maybe romantic love wasn’t in the cards for her…

‘Emma, that’s just crazy talk and you know it!’

She swore she could hear her friends’ voices all saying that to her as she felt herself falling down the rabbit hole of loneliness and she almost laughed at how deeply they were ingrained in her. They had somehow become the voices in her head, the little bits of conscience that brought her back to reality, and the hopeful part of her heart that did want to imagine that love would find her in the end. Shaking her head at her brain’s antics, Emma responded aloud though she was still by herself.

“I know, I know. I have to believe good things can happen. I got it.”

And she did get it. The problem was Emma didn’t know how to help love find her. She was probably doing this all wrong. She wasn’t exactly an approachable kind of a person, and she definitely wasn’t doing anything to attract a man right now. She was closed off and protective of herself and her boundaries, and as much as that had served her in the past, it was standing in the way of her maybe finding happiness. That was a hard pill to swallow, but it was even harder to imagine what might be a good first step towards changing.

A memory came into her mind at that moment, one from when she was still a young girl in the system. As a kid she’d seen counselor after counselor. Some of them were interested in helping her, while others were bogged down with the masses of other children that they helped. But her last one, the one who saw her as a teen and who fought for her the hardest, helping her get through school, get into college, and start on a path towards a real life, had been adamant that good things came when you wrote your dreams down. Making a plan was all well and fine, but sometimes life and the ways of the world were less defined. Mrs. Hubbard had always told Emma to write what she wanted into existence. It was a way to find the truth of what she wished for, and to get it out there, hopefully helping her move forward.

Though part of her thought this was a little ridiculous, Emma decided she had nothing to lose. She grabbed a pad of paper and a pen, curling up on the couch with a cup of cocoa in hand and she sat there, thinking about what she wanted. Should she write a list of what made the perfect man in her opinion? No, that sounded less personal than she felt was needed in this moment. Emma wasn’t looking for a picture perfect Prince Charming who met all sorts of criteria. She wanted someone to share her life with, someone to lean on, someone to feel connected to. In saying that, she didn’t know exactly what factors or traits would make someone the right fit for her. She had some ideas of course, but it was foolish to think she could have those answers in full. Love had eluded her this long for a reason, so she quickly dropped the idea of a list and moved onto something very different.

“Okay then, I’ll write a letter,” Emma said, happy with the idea until her brow furrowed at an obvious hiccup in this plan. “A letter to who? I can’t exactly write ‘Dear No One.’”

But even as she said the words, her fingers had moved on their own, writing out exactly that. Emma shrugged at it, finding she didn’t hate it as much as she thought she would then continued on, writing comlpletey from the heart.

Dear No one,

We’ve never met before, and honestly I have no idea who you are, what you do, or where you’re from. You are entirely a mystery, but even with that said I know you already. You are the man I could fall in love with, the man who could bring me to a new place, a place I’ve never been before.

Truth be told there are days I think I just don’t need you or the love that you might bring. I like being independent and answering to no one. I like making my own path each and every day. It’s what I know and what I’m used to and I fought so hard and for so long to not just survive, but to thrive. I have made my life up until now. I have built the world I live in and I am damn proud of how far I’ve come from where I started.

But sometimes – honestly more and more often these days – I find myself wishing that you were here. I want someone at my side, someone who cares about me and who wants me just as much as I want him. I want the kind of man who takes my hand wherever we may be and it feels so good that I can’t let go. I want the kind of love that greets you each morning and puts you to bed each night. I want to think of you too much. I want distraction and excitement. I want all sorts of firsts, but most importantly lasts. Because I’m not interested in fleeting or temporary. If I’m going to do love, it’s gotta be all in. I want to be yours and only yours, and I want you to feel the same.

So far this letter has been all about me. I want, I wish, I need… but I know that you have wants and wishes too. If you’re the right man for me, then hopefully I already embody those things, and if I don’t hopefully they’re changes for the better. I’m praying you make me more hopeful, more adventurous, and more willing to take the risk, because loving you – choosing you – will be the greatest risk I’ve ever taken. I’ve never let someone in enough to have that, but I could, for you.

I know that love is never perfect, because life is messy and can’t be controlled. Things won’t always be hearts and rainbows, and I promise that I won’t run. The old me probably would have. At the first sign of trouble I high tail it out. It’s the best way to protect yourself. Staying at a distance and building walls keeps you alive, that’s what life has always taught me. But I will stay for you, to fight for this and for us, no matter what comes.

When we find each other, and I hope it will be soon, I want you to know that I will be ready. But for now, I’m done looking. If we’re meant to be, it’ll happen. We’ll find each other, as all great loves do, and we’ll take it from there, one step at a time.

Take care of yourself in the meantime, and I hope you find reasons to smile and to laugh and to feel happy each and every day. It’s what you deserve.

Wishing you were here, but waiting until it happens…

Emma

When the letter was written, Emma read it and read it again, finding that she liked everything that she’d crafted on the page. It was honest and truthful, and yes, sappy as could be, but that wasn’t her fault. Of course it was going to be sappy! Emma was hoping for true love – and that kind of love always seemed to be just a little bit cheesy. She smiled in spite of herself, putting the letter on top of a stack of papers and leaving it for now, knowing if it was going to work she had to, at some point, leave it alone.

As she went through the rest of her night, eventually falling asleep, Emma found her dreams continued to build off that letter. That night she knew she had visions of the man she wanted, but come morning it was all just a little vague. Dark hair, piercing eyes, a smile that made her knees weak. These were the things she remembered, but it wasn’t a definite person. At least not yet. Still, this mysterious man, a man who’s face she still hadn’t seen was with her through her whole day. From getting coffee at Belle’s bakery in the morning, to work at the office, and back home again, the feeling of him was still there. And after everything, Emma found herself wanting to reread her letter. She didn’t want to change anything per se, she just wanted to see if it stacked up as well in the morning light… there was just one problem. She couldn’t find it.

“Oh shit,” she said aloud, her nerves starting to fray as she looked at the table where it had been and realized there were no papers there. She ran back through her morning, half remembering her pre-coffee existence and she had a trickling sense of fear. She’d needed the papers underneath the letter for work. Oh God had she really been so stupid? She rummaged through her bag, eventually dumping the whole thing out frantically searching for the letter, but it was gone. Emma prayed that maybe she’d moved it last night, and she searched every room she’d been in, in every nook and cranny. She dug inside the couch, behind the chair, beneath every sheet and pillow on her bed, but nothing. It was gone.

Resigning herself to this cold, terrifying reality, the one that had her letter – her honest but completely embarrassing letter – out somewhere in the world, Emma sat down on the couch and hid her face in her hands, sending up a last resort prayer.

Please don’t let anyone find it! she silently begged, but luckily the universe didn’t hear that request. Instead, it was already on its way to granting Emma her Christmas wish.

Post-Note: So there we have it. Just a cute, quick fluffy chapter that isn’t super original, but packed enough holiday love story promise for my muse. I hope that you guys have enjoyed and I’m eager to see what you think. I’m hoping to get the next chapter posted in about two weeks, and then the last chapter the week after. Hopefully I can manage that since school is starting to wind down for the semester. Anyway thanks for reading and I hope you have a great rest of your weekend!

#captain swan #captain swan fic #captain swan ff #cs fic #cs ff #cs fluff #cs au #cs cuteness #emma swan #the whole storybrooke gang #killian jones #ouat au #CS christmas #dear no one #dear no one au #cs holiday fic #cs christmas fic

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searchingwardrobes · 5 years

Text

Christmas in Storybrooke: 7/11

Another chapter that justifies the M rating, and it's Henry, so . . . be prepared. This is also where the angst begins, so buckle your seatbelts. You may have noticed that each of the chapter titles is a Christmas song. This one is probably a little obscure. It's a song by Matt Wertz. I don't even know who he is, honestly, but they play this song on the radio station my kids and I listen to. It's super cheesy, even my kids think so, and its peppy fluffiness clashes with the angst of this chapter. However, the title and even the lyrics fit the idea of Henry's crazy life. You'll understand I think after you read the chapter.

Summary: My Hallmark Christmas movie fic in which flights get cancelled and Henry’s “best friend’ gets snowed in with him in his quirky hometown for Christmas. Only with magic and fairy tale characters.

Rating: M for suggestive scenes and adult situations, not smut

Trigger warnings: Henry is an adult. Read that again: Henry is an adult. Look at the picset: that’s Andrew J. West. If Henry actually behaving like an adult makes you feel icky, the don’t read this.

Can also be read on Ao3

Tagging @snowbellewells @kmomof4 @kday426 @bethacaciakay @snidgetsafan @teamhook @whimsicallyenchantedrose @delirious-latenight-laughs @jennjenn615 @winterbaby89 @yohoyohoafandomlifeforme @distant-rose @let-it-raines

Chapter Seven: Snow Globe

Henry slept better than he had the entire time he’d been back home. Partly because the guest bed was far more comfortable than his old futon and partly because his activities with Evie left him thoroughly spent in the best way. He had fallen asleep with her in his arms, and he was pretty sure the loss of her soft curves pressed against him was what had awakened him now. The bed was also creaking with her movement, and he rolled over to see her swinging her legs over the side of the bed. Her hair, beautifully tousled and wavy, fell over one shoulder, leaving her back bare. He slid over to slip his arm around her waist and press kisses to her shoulder blade. The sun was just peeking through the window, so he knew it was early.

“Where are you going?” he whispered against her skin. He ran his hand down her spine. “Waking up to this sight makes me realize how many freckles I missed. I didn’t explore your back.”

“Henry,” she sighed with a hint of irritation. Yet she leaned back into him anyway and came willingly as he pulled her back down and into the circle of his arms. She shuddered as he trailed kisses down her back, his fingers tracing her freckles.

“You know this can’t go anywhere,” she said, turning in his arms with her eyes shut tight.

Henry felt as if he’d gotten emotional whiplash. Had he been misreading her all this time?

“Look at me,” he whispered as he traced her cheek with his fingertips. Reluctantly, she did as he asked, and he felt his heart stutter at those beautiful, mysterious eyes of hers. “If you think this was some friends with benefits fling, you’re wrong. That's not me.’

She gave him a tremulous smile. “I know that.”

He let out a relieved breath. “Good.” He swallowed down the nerves that came before he spoke again. It was risky, but she had to know. “And to be completely clear – I love you, Evangeline.”

Her face crumpled, her eyes suddenly welling up with tears. She looked as if he’d just given her horrible news. “You think you do – now.”

His brow furrowed. “My feelings may have crept up on me, but I’m one hundred percent sure of them now. So sure, that I’ll say it again. I love you.”

Henry pressed a kiss to her lips just to emphasize his point, and for a moment, she kissed him back, even wrapping her arms tighter around his neck as he rolled her onto her back. But then she pulled away, somewhat reluctantly, panting. Her gaze was sad as she cupped his face.

“Remember when we met?”

He smiled and turned his face to kiss her palm. “Of course I do. To be honest, I was attracted to you from the start, but you were engaged at the time.”

She gave him a smile as she ran a hand through his hair. “And you had just broken up with Grace. When Josh left, you were there for me. I remember you said you had been in a similar situation.”

Henry nodded, unsure where she was going with this. “That’s right. Grace hated New York City. We wanted different things, and she left.”

Evie searched his eyes intently, nodding as if he ought to be putting things together by now. “She wanted to come back home, you said. You grew up together. Now I know what that means. Who is she, Henry?”

“An old friend,” Henry repeated, “you know that.”

She sighed in frustration and gave his chest a slight push. “But who is she, really? She’s a fairy tale character, right? Or related to one?”

Henry rubbed his face wearily and rolled onto his back. Talking about their exes wasn’t exactly how he imagined their morning after going. “Her dad is the Mad Hatter, okay? He went back to the Enchanted Forest, and she wanted to go back there too. So we broke up. Met some guy there and is engaged now from what I heard. What’s your point?”

Evie propped herself up on her elbow. “The Mad Hatter? As in Wonderland?”

“Yeah.”

“And your first girlfriend, Violet, who was she?”

“What is this?” Henry groaned. “Why are you grilling me about my exes? You want to know how many women I’ve been with before we get serious, is that it? Cause let me assure you, I’m a pretty dull guy. One committed monogamous relationship after another. A complete relationship nerd.”

Evie rolled her eyes and shifted closer, propping herself up on his chest. The feel of her breasts sliding against his skin made him want to do anything but talk.

“Just humor me, please,” she begged him, “I have a point, I swear.”

He sighed, fiddling with her hair. “I just don’t understand why you’re asking about Violet. I was just a kid; it was completely innocent, puppy love.”

“She was your first kiss, though. So where did you meet her?”

He realized he had fudged the real story when he told it to Evie before. Of course, he hadn’t been completely lying. His memories had been erased, so in a way he really did meet Violet by the jukebox at Granny’s.

“At a ball in Camelot.”

Evie rolled her eyes, then flopped onto her back. He was still really distracted by her breasts.

“Oh, just at a ball in Camelot,” she repeated wryly.

Henry rolled over to nibble at her neck and cup one of her breasts. She held him close for a moment, sighing at his touch, but then she pushed him away again.

“Focus, please,” she reprimanded.

He relented, settling down with his head resting on her stomach. She began to thread her fingers through his hair. She hadn’t told him yet how she felt, but her response to his touch, and her affections despite her third degree spoke volumes. She had feelings for him beyond the physical, he could tell, but she was also afraid. He just couldn’t figure out why.

“How long did you date Violet?”

He sighed, but answered honestly anyway. “Until I was fifteen. And like I told you, we were young and innocent. And before you ask, her father was the Connecticut Yankee.”

“In King Arthur’s Court? Twain’s stuff is real too?” She chuckled. “Did you also graduate with Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn?”

He laughed as well. “Haven’t met them . . . yet.”

“And after Violet?”

No wonder she was so good at her job. When she wanted answers, she was unrelenting.

“I dated one other girl in high school. She was my date to the prom my junior year, but my senior year we broke up. Mom didn’t like her. I don’t think my other mom and Killian were all that crazy about the relationship either, but they were nice to Ava. They had a similar upbringing to hers, so they understood her better than Regina did. She was also a year older than me, and when you’re sixteen, that can freak your parents out I guess.”

“And who was she? Was Ava her real name?”

Henry sat up and rubbed his eyes. “You promise not to laugh?”

Evie’s mouth quirked up in the corner. She gathered the sheets to her chest and slid up to lean back against the headboard. She lifted one hand.

“Girl Scout’s honor. I won’t laugh.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “I don’t think that’s a thing in the Girl Scouts.”

“Hey, I was a Brownie, for your information, and we have honor too.”

He couldn’t help smiling, relieved to see she still had her sense of humor at least. ‘Okay, fine. She was . . . . Gretel.”

Evie’s eyes widened. Then she coughed and quickly clapped her hand over her mouth. Then she removed it, cleared her throat, and asked, “As in Hansel and Gretel?”

He saw the sparkle in her eyes. “You swore you wouldn’t laugh!” he exclaimed.

She schooled her features, though her lips kept quirking upward. “Do I look like I’m laughing?”

“Maybe not on the outside.”

She cleared her throat and made a big production of smoothing down the bedsheets. “Okay, so you lost your virginity to the chick that shoved a witch into an oven. Got it.”

“How did you know that I . . . “

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Your parents didn’t approve? She was older than you? Come on now, Henry, I can put two and two together.”

He rolled his eyes, then reached out to gather her in his arms. Evie frowned, almost looked like she might cry, but she let him hold her close. He kissed her hair and rubbed her shoulders.

“What is all this about?”

She turned her face into his neck, and he ran his fingers through her hair.

“Have you dated anyone who wasn’t from . . . there?”

He pulled her away from him slightly so he could look into her face. He rubbed his thumb across her cheek.

“Why do you -”

“Just answer the damn question.”

He sighed. “If you’re asking if I’ve ever dated anyone truly from the Land Without Magic . . . no, I haven’t.”

“See?” she asked, her lip trembling. “You say you love me, but what happens when you go on some adventure and meet Cinderella or something?”

“Ella runs the day care center and is married with two kids.”

She rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean. You’re the grandson of Prince Charming, for heaven’s sake! You’re from a world of destined soul mates and true love’s kisses. There’s probably some princess out there under a curse that you’re supposed to go rescue or something. I’m a nobody, Henry. Just an ordinary girl who grew up in an ordinary suburb of Atlanta. Trust me, my dad’s into genealogies. I’m nothing magical or special.”

Tears were tracing down Evie’s cheeks now. He tried to pull her to him again, to kiss her and tell her she was wrong, but she fled from the bed, from him. She grabbed her clothes and went to the bathroom, almost slamming the door behind her. He heard the click of the lock, and a sound that he thought might be a sob. He followed, knocking at the door, and begging her to open it.

“Go away Henry.”

He pressed his forehead to the door, and spoke in a voice loud enough for her to hear, but gentle enough to convey his feelings. “I will, for now, but I love you Evangeline Crawford, and I’ll keep telling you that until you believe it. Until you believe how special you really are.”

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

Henry hadn’t expected Evie to be able to ignore him so thoroughly when they were staying in the same house and sharing a room, but she seemed to be just as tenacious in this as she was with anything else. Even here, at Granny’s annual Christmas Eve party, she had skillfully avoided him. It got to the point that Henry started to feel like a pathetic puppy in his attempts to follow her around. So now he sat in a booth at the back of the diner, nursing a beer as he watched another cluster of Storybrooke residents surround Evie. She was a bit of a celebrity at the moment, as word had gotten around that Henry had told her the truth about everything. She was the first outsider since Tamara and Greg, which definitely increased the aura of mystery surrounding her. At least he hoped it was mystery. He knew his hometown well enough to know that it could still be fear and suspicion too.

He watched Evie’s expression over the rim of his mug. He hated that she looked a little overwhelmed. As he lowered the beverage with a sigh, his stepdad slid into the booth across from him.

“So, my boy, care to explain what’s going on with you and your fair lass?”

“She’s not my anything,” Henry grumbled, taking another swig of his beer.

Killian arched a brow at him. “Seems to me you’ve been emphasizing this entire time that she’s just MY friend. If I were a betting man, I would say that something has happened to change that label?”

Henry narrowed his eyes. “You are a betting man.”

“Were,” Killian corrected, pointing a finger in Henry’s face, “and don’t change the subject. I’m quite perceptive, you know.”

He tilted his head, and Henry squirmed. A slow smile spread across Killian’s face as he leaned back in his booth. Henry tried to cover his sudden blush with another swallow of beer.

“Just as I thought.”

“I’m glad my angst is so amusing to you,” Henry snapped.

Killian’s gaze went from teasing to sincere. “Listen to me, lad, in my experience, when a lady runs it means her feelings run deep.”

Henry deflated. “How did you do it, Killian? How did you get past Mom’s walls?”

“With patience,” he answered softly. “I was in it for the long haul, and I knew I had to earn your mother’s trust by letting her set the pace.”

“But what if she thinks a future is impossible? That we’re just too different.”

They both knew he wasn’t talking about his mother anymore.

“And you think Emma was any different? Who could be more different than a villain and the savior? A pirate and a princess? Captain Hook and the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming?” He leaned over and grasped Henry’s shoulder. “I told your grandpa once that your mother and I were no fated love story. We had to fight for our love. We fought, and we won. When your mother saw I would never give up on us, she knew she could trust me with her future, no matter what it brought.”

Henry nodded firmly, encouraged by his stepdad’s words, but then he frowned. “But how do I convince her when she won’t even look at me?”

Killian winked. “When a woman cares for you, and you truly honor and respect her, she’ll seek you out. Just be sure you make yourself available; that your right there when she needs you.”

Henry nodded. He still wasn’t completely sure how he could strike that balance, but he could sure as hell try.

“Henry,” Emma’s voice interrupted their conversation. Killian tensed, his eyes wide with concern.

“Emma, love, why aren’t you still in the booth with your parents?” He rose and helped his wife settle in next to him.

“Sorry,” Emma said with a sigh, reaching over and squeezing her husband’s hook. Then she turned to Henry, “I just saw Evie kind of getting surrounded over there, and I was wondering why you weren’t coming to her rescue.”

“Um . . . “ he was now squirming under his mother’s gaze.

“Oh,” Emma suddenly said, exchanging a knowing glance with Killian, “I see.”

“Seriously, Mom, you too?”

“Henry,” his mother said gently, taking his hand, “whatever is happening between you too, you can‘t let her keep you at arm’s length right now. The dwarves, Granny, and Belle are all over there trying to convince her she’s actually a fairy tale character.”

“What?”

Emma nodded. “They’re giving her the third degree, and she looks a little lost. She may need you, despite whatever fight you’ve had.”

“We didn’t have a fight,” Henry countered.

Emma seemed to be fighting a grin as she glanced at Killian again. “Hmm, so it’s like that then.”

“She probably told him it was a one-time thing,” Killian quipped.

“Silly girl,” Emma giggled. “I should warn her that those are famous last words.”

Killian bent and kissed her then, and Henry groaned as he quickly exited the booth. “You two are nauseating.”

His parents just continued to laugh (and kiss) as he stood. But before he could reach the crowd that had Evie surrounded, she turned and practically fled out the door. He felt the curve of Killian’s hook nudge his back.

“Go to her lad.”

At his stepdad’s words, he looked back down at the booth. His mother was nodding her encouragement. Henry squared his shoulders and strode towards the door. The bell above it jingled as he opened it and stepped out into the frigid air. Evie stood standing in the gently falling snow, her arms wrapped around herself, her face tilted slightly upwards. Her auburn hair fell in soft waves down her back, one side pulled off her neck with a silver and gold clip. Her black dress was cinched at the waist with a gold belt, and the skirt flared out, its black tulle outer lining embroidered with sparkling gold thread. Several gold bangle bracelets tinkled at her wrists, and she wore gold ballet flats on her feet. The dress hit her at the knees, but her toned calves were still enough to make his thoughts go in a heated direction, especially remembering them tangled up with his in the early hours of dawn. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

She shivered, and he realized that the gold shawl draped over her bare shoulders was doing little to shelter her from the cold. He stepped up behind her, shedding his sports jacket, and draped it over her creamy shoulders. He stepped closer, his chest brushing against her back, his lips ghosting across the top of her head, but he refrained from doing anything more intimate. He gave her arms one quick rub with his palms, then stepped back to give her space once again.

“What are you doing?” she asked, turning to him. Her dress brought out the gold flecks in her eyes, and he couldn’t stop staring.

“Giving you my jacket. You’re cold.”

She tore her gaze away, then nodded over his shoulder. “Look behind you.”

He turned and saw a small crowd gathered at the window of Granny’s, among them the proprietress herself and half the dwarves. They scrambled off in a way that wasn’t remotely subtle when they glimpsed Henry looking their way. He sighed.

“Kind of like being in a fish bowl, isn’t it?”

Evie pulled his jacket tighter as she gazed up at the sky once again. “A snow globe’s more like it.”

“Mhm,” he agreed stepping close again and brushing snow from her hair, “I apologize. After the curse broke, and everyone realized my real mother was the savior, well . . . let’s just say they suddenly all believed themselves personally invested in my life. It’s been unfair, and honestly way too much to live up to.”

“Is that why they were all so intent on discovering my supposed true fairy tale background? To see if I’m worthy of you?”

He sighed, his hand still playing with her hair, “Ignore them. I love you just the way you are, and I don’t care where you came from.”

She said nothing for a moment, but turned away from him. He thought she might walk away completely, but she stopped at the patio awning. She leaned her head against it as she gazed up at the stars.

“It’s a beautiful night tonight,” Henry said softly as he came to stand by her side. “The moon is full.”

“Not quite,” Evie commented, “but I noticed it was the other night. It was beautiful, and so incredibly close.”

Well, that explained the wolf Killian had mentioned to Evie when he went to dig out the snow plow. Ruby must have been out that night in wolf form and getting into mischief. He didn’t mention that to Evie, though. She had enough to process without the news that Little Red Riding Hood was actually a werewolf.

“Evangeline was the star that Tiana wished on in the movie The Princess and the Frog.” Evie turned her gaze on Henry. “That’s one theory on who I am. A star that was cursed to be born a human in the Land Without Magic.”

Her voice was laced with sarcasm. He drew closer to her. “Evie, I’m so sorry. Just ignore them -”

“But that wasn’t the only possibility. According to Belle, there’s a Longfellow poem that could be about me. Of course, it’s based on a Cajun legend, so Granny thought they might both be me. A star, and a legend. Now talk about lot to live up to . . . “

“Evie,” he said softly, going to stand in front of her and placing both hands gently on her shoulders, “I don’t need you to be a star or some kind of legendary character. All I need is you.” He pulled her close, and he counted it as a small victory when she relaxed in his embrace. “Besides, I was an English major at NYU, remember? I read that poem, and believe me, I don’t want it to be you. That Evangeline wanders in search of her lover, and doesn’t find him until they’re both old. Then he dies in her arms.”

Evie pulled back, and he smiled to see a teasing grin on her face. “Hello, Henry, spoiler alert? What if I was planning on reading that?”

He chuckled, and then bent to kiss her. She stopped him, however, with a finger to his lips. He opened his eyes, which had fluttered closed, to give her a confused look.

“Snow globe,” she told him simply, cutting her eyes to the side.

He groaned when he saw his Grandma Snow and Belle peering at them through the window. His grandmother made a big show of scrambling away, yanking Belle with her. He turned back to Evie, but the moment was lost. She stepped away from the awning and onto the sidewalk. She shrugged out of his jacket and held it out to him.

“I - um, saw that there was a flight in the morning out of Portland direct to Atlanta. I was thinking I’d take it.”

“Evie -”

“The only reason you brought me here was because I couldn’t get a flight out. Now I can.” She shrugged as if it was nothing, but the tears glistening in her eyes said otherwise. “I think it’s for the best.”

“Don’t,” Henry said, unable to keep the edge out of his voice, “don’t push me away. I don’t want the damn jacket back, and I don’t want you to leave.”

She hugged the jacket to her chest, wrapping herself protectively. “I also had a pretty interesting conversation with your Grandfather Rumple. Or a lecture was more like it. He said his son threw his life away by choosing the Land Without Magic, and he hated to see you do the same. Said you were running from your destiny.” She tilted her head to the side. “Seems you left out one little detail about your fairy tale life, Henry Mills.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

She marched towards him again. “You led me to believe you were just descended from storybook characters. But me, you said, I’m just a regular guy, you said.” The green in her eyes over took the gold now, deep and stormy. She poked him in the chest with one finger. “You’re the author, and while I don’t fully understand what all that means, the Blue Fairy and Rumple very snootily informed me that it had something to do with you being chosen. Something about a magic pen and the consequences of not wielding it right?”

“Evie, I can explain -”

She lifted a hand to cut him off. “I know you aren’t trying to toy with my feelings. We probably didn’t set proper boundaries in our friendship. We had both just gotten our hearts broken, and we shouldn’t have found comfort with each other.” She pressed her palm to his chest. “You deserve so much more than me, Henry.”

Then she gave him a tiny shove and hurried away down the snowy sidewalk.

#henry-centric fic #ouat ff #henry mills #henry mills/original character #some cs #cause ya'll know me #holiday fluff #christmas fic #family fluff #humor #but angst now too #christmas in storybrooke

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noahreids · 6 years

Text

What a Year (for a New Year) (CS FF)

Rated: T Words: Too many 13.5k Summary: Killian Jones, Boston Bruins right winger, needs a break from the questions and concerns over his career-threatening injury. He thought Storybrooke would be the perfect place to escape to. What he didn't expect was Emma Swan, her kid and a holiday season he never knew he needed.

Also on: AO3 | FFN

AN: For @clockadile , it’s been an absolute pleasure being your CSSS and getting to know you. Here’s to more canadian convos and chats going forward. And all my thanks goes to @piratesails !! She is the real holiday hero for being a beta for this monster. Thank you!

What a Year (for a New Year)

Emma’s eyes lazily follow the thick snowflakes as they rush from the slate-colored sky, quickly blanketing everything they touch. The layers of snow grow higher by the hour, across the railings and over the small cedar bench (one she should have put away weeks ago). A shiver catches her suddenly, and she absently rubs her hands over her bare arms as she slides her gaze over to her computer screen. She frowns at the blinking black bar. Her eyes narrow, wondering if she can will the words to appear on the screen.

The bar continues to blink.

Apparently not.

She closes the cover delicately -- a deep contrast to the frustration she’s feeling -- and concedes momentary defeat.

Emma knows action. She knows how to find and help people. She knows which doors to knock on and which to knock down, but there’s also so much more she wishes she could do. She wants to reach more people. And Ariel (the Ariel Atwater of the Boston Globe), who had somehow read her small piece in the Storybooke Daily Mirror had contacted her personally, asking her to contribute a more significant feature in the Globe.

“Think of the lost girls and boys, think of how many of them are just like you. Looking for hope, looking for someone to believe in.”

Well, that was a lot to handle in one conversation.

Emma had promptly hung up the phone. Probably not her brightest moment, but when a complete stranger was throwing around words like lost girl, and savior, well, Emma had needed a moment to process. Eventually, after a few days, and Ariel herself showing up at her office in the social services department of city hall, she had been swayed to at least try.

And she had tried and made progress. Emma found herself revealing pieces of her own story that she had never told anyone, but where she was having trouble was finding a way to close it all out. Feeling her tension rise, Emma forces her eyes shut and focuses on what did go well today.

She sees the tentative smiles on Ava and Nicholas’ faces as they are introduced to their father for the first time. The man ringing his hat in his hands before dropping to his knees to hug both children.

She lets her breath out in a long slow stream and feels some of the tension leave her body. After another steady breath, she pushes away from the desk, letting the momentum roll the chair until it stops in the middle of the room. Hands on her stomach she turns the chair this way and that, trying to decide what to do next.

She spies the small black cat peering at her from the arm of the couch.

“What did I say about the couch?” Emma asks aloud. The cat blinks at her once before gracefully jumping to the floor. The feline saunters into the room, tail held high, and pauses at her feet. Emma reaches out a toe and rubs at the cat’s head. “What kind of name for a cat is Graham anyway?”

Emma can almost hear Henry groaning, impatiently explaining for the hundredth time that he got the name from the lead character of the latest comic series he’s been reading, “He’s only the coolest character, mom. Sheriff by day, wolf by night.”

Emma eyes the cat. “You a wolf by night?”

Graham meows once and flops down to his side.

Emma shrugs at the response and spins the chair to face the kitchen. An unopened bottle of her favorite red sits on the counter. She should get to the laundry, and check her case files for tomorrow. She should do a lot of things, but it only takes her a moment to justify the wine; it has been a long week -- work, countless hours of writing, parent-teacher meeting, hockey practice –

She pushes herself up and pads lightly to the kitchen, plucking the bottle of Masi as she passes, and roots around in the messy catch-all drawer for the wine opener. She is just pulling the cork out when she hears something hit the ground. Emma spins to see the cat sitting at her desk, her notebook on the floor.

“Hey!”

Graham blinks in return, unaffected.

After a beat Emma watches as the cat proceeds to go for her computer wire, sharp little teeth bared.

“Dude! Stop, you little pest!”

At this second warning and with Emma’s threatening step into the living room, the cat finally hops down from the desk and follows Emma into the kitchen, stopping at his empty food bowl. Emma shakes her head but fills his bowl and bends to give Graham a scratch behind his ear.

“Alright, my turn now,” Emma mumbles and turns to fill her glass.

Emma gets as far as the kitchen counter, elbows against the chilled marble as she nibbles on crackers and cheese, sipping her wine. Through gossamer curtains, Emma catches sight of the snow that continues to fall. She worries a little about the roads, but Ashley had assured her she would get the kids home safely from the theater. She chooses instead to try and focus on the music that filters in from the living room.

Popping the last piece of cheese into her mouth, Emma, wine in hand, dances over to the radio, turning it up. She twirls as the song comes to an end and switches to a mellower beat. As she comes to a stop, she sips her wine a little slower and sighs when she spots Henry’s sweater under the coffee table. She grabs it and makes her way to his room to toss it onto his bed, but it’s as she sets foot in his room that another shiver racks her frame. The cold floor immediately permeates through her thin socks. Her eyes catch the movement of Henry’s curtains, fluttering softly from an outside breeze.

“Really, kid?” she mumbles crossing the room. She is reaching for the curtain when she feels Graham winding his way through her legs. “What do you think you’re,” her words trail off as Graham hops on the bed and suddenly disappears behind the curtain.

Emma doesn’t think anything of it until she pulls the curtains back and finds an opened window and paw prints in the snow.

“HEY!” Emma hisses at the cat. He at least has the decency to stop and look back. Although in the end, he doesn’t seem concerned with Emma’s anxious call because no sooner, he is on the move again, squeezing through the railings and onto the neighbor’s balcony.

Emma rushes out of the bedroom and to the patio doors, wrenching them open, the snow and wind immediately stopping her short, the cold biting every bare inch of her skin.

“Graham, get back here,” she pleads and takes a tentative step towards the cat. Wrong move.

With a flick of his tail, and to Emma’s immediate horror, the cat darts through the partially opened door of her neighbor’s condo. She hesitates in shocked silence.

“Graham! Here kitty…” Emma pushes out through clenched, chattering teeth, but there is no cat and no movement at the door.

She considers it a small victory that there is no scream of horror from the neighbor. She wasn’t even sure anyone lived there until last week when the mail started disappearing. She hasn’t met them yet, but silently hopes that whoever they are, they aren’t at home. She can get the cat out, and no one will be the wiser.

She studies the waist-high railing separating the two balconies and finally comes to a decision. She steps out, grumbling when the snow immediately slips into her shoes. With a huff, she dusts the cedar bench off and drags it closer to the railing. Wine in hand, she lifts herself up onto the edge of the railing and balances precariously on the top. The thought crosses her mind that she should leave her glass inside, but having gotten this far, she takes a sip of liquid courage and throws her legs over. She lands inelegantly, but thanks to the snow, quietly, nary a drop of wine spilled.

She inches towards the open door with tentative steps and offers a soft, “Hello? Anyone home?”

The silence drags on and it only gets colder. She should have grabbed a jacket.

“Just looking for my son’s asshole cat,” Emma mutters, finally stepping into the condo and onto a small mat of an almost mirror image of her unit. The color scheme is bolder than hers; a dark navy accent wall, stiff looking leather couch, rustic wood coffee table – it all feels very masculine. She slips out of her shoes and closes the door behind her. She looks around the dimly lit home and is about to approach a picture on the wall when she shakes her head, reminding herself of why she is here and how she needs to get the hell out of this stranger’s house. The last thing she needs is to call in a favor to David at the police station and explain why she was caught breaking and entering.

“Graham,” she singsongs softly and pauses. “Psss, psss, psss,” she adds a few sounds she thinks a cat would respond to and waits. Suddenly she hears the sound of nails on material and spins, rushing over to the couch.

“Duuuuude!” she cries out, and the sound stops. She rests her wine glass on the coffee table and drops to her knees, peering beneath the couch. Yellow eyes stare back. The cat is on his back, nails hooked in the material of the underside of the couch. “Look, there’s no damage. No one looks under here. Can you do me a solid and come out?”

The cat rolls onto his stomach and shimmies back. Emma drops her forehead to the floor and groans. And of course, this is when she hears the sound of a key in the front door. No time to come up with a plan, she rushes to sit up, rapping her shoulder on the coffee table. Biting her lip against the jarring pain, she just manages to catch her wine glass before it topples over.

Fuuuuuuck.

And this is how her new neighbor finds her: kneeling beside his couch, glass of wine clutched in a death grip, messy blond hair falling over her face. She blows a stray lock away and furtively glances towards the doorway, eyes downcast. Emma spots the snow-covered boots of a man hovering at the threshold. Her eyes trail up jean-clad legs, to a gray wool peacoat, snow melting across the front.

Well Emma, chin up. You’ve been in worse situations.

She feels the adrenaline kicking in, and before she can succumb to the nerves, she forces her eyes up and sucks in a breath. He just had to be beautiful – although her thoughts hesitate as she takes in the cool blue eyes that are fast on hers – beautiful but a little rough. Her eyes bounce from the cut across his cheek to the dark scruff lining his jaw that looks just a bit unkempt. She watches that jaw clench, and it causes a clenching of another kind, deep in her belly. She inwardly curses her body’s reaction. It’s clearly been too long. She swallows hard, trying to calm her frantically beating heart.

Unsure of what to say she absently brings her wine glass to her lips. His eyebrow pops up, and this small response transforms his features into something a little more approachable and, Emma thinks, a little more familiar. She shrugs, taking a sip of her wine and gets to her feet.

The stranger finally closes the door behind him and tosses his keys in a bowl but doesn’t come any closer.

“You certainly are the boldest puck bunny I’ve encountered,” he finally addresses her in a cold tone. The English accent catches her off-guard, as do his eyes that give her a quick once-over. Emma is suddenly aware of her threadbare t-shirt and leggings. She glances back to him when the words he’s just used rattles around in her brain.

“Puck bunny?” she asks, wondering if it’s an English turn of phrase she isn’t aware of.

He either doesn’t hear her or chooses to ignore the question seeing as he is faced with the more pressing matter of a stranger in his living room.

“Now lass, as beautiful as you are, nothing will be happening here. I need you to kindly explain how you broke into my home before I decide if I’m calling the police,” her neighbor says, pulling his phone from his pocket.

Emma scrunches her nose at his first statement.

Who is this guy and what does he think she’s here for?

However, her thoughts are quickly dismissed as the word police catches up with her. She holds up her hands, before pointing at him with her wine glass.

“Hey, whoa. What are you going on about? No need for the police, I’m just here about my cat,” she protests, and before she can explain further, she is brought up short by his half laugh.

“Cat? Are you telling me you are here about your puss--”

“EXCUSE ME.” She cuts him off, her eyes wide in horror.

He finally cracks a smile and takes a few steps into the room, looking a little more relaxed.

“I’m your neighbor,” she begins but he returns the favor, cutting her off.

“Ruby is my neighbor, you are not Ruby,” he says tongue darting out to wet his lips, eyes trailing over her, smirk in place.

Emma closes her eyes and counts to five.

“You asked me to explain, do you want to hear it or not?”

He crosses his arms over his chest, and it’s then she sees his left hand is wrapped in gauze, three fingers set in a cast. Sensing her eyes on his injury, he drops his hand to his side and gives her a tight nod.

“My name is Emma. Ruby is a good friend of mine; she sublet the condo to me months ago. She told me nothing of this,” Emma waves in his general direction and ignores his popped eyebrow, choosing to continue. “My cat ran in through your open back door – maybe you should close it if you don’t want unwanted guests,” Emma adds pointedly. “You trying to heat up all of Storybrooke?”

“Airing out the place. It’s been closed up a while,” he mumbles and then adds, “I didn’t expect any guests, and so far, I only see the two-legged variety.”

Emma sighs.

“Graham is under the couch. Trust me, I came for the cat, not to throw myself at the likes of you,” Emma explains and partially wishes she’d left the last part out, but she has to admit she likes the way his eyes widen, a little put out.

“With your glass of cabernet?” he adds.

“It’s a red blend,” she mutters, and his eyebrow pops up again. She tilts her head, studying him; there was something familiar about the look. Her eyes flit around the room and land on a framed photograph: elated faces, bodies dressed in thick equipment, hoisting a trophy. “Killian Jones!” she says suddenly, wine glass gesturing to him. “You play for the Bruins.”

She thought he would be pleased that she figured it out. Instead, he frowns and then suddenly the pieces connect.

“Shit. You play for the Bruins. You own my place. Look, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t kick us out before Christmas. Or at all really. It’s just a misunderstanding.”

Killian looks decidedly confused.

“Kick you out? What? Who?”

Emma points to herself, “Emma Swan.”

“Emma Swan,” he repeats, taking a few steps further into the room, only the coffee table separating them now. He taps the table leg in thought before looking up at her from under dark lashes. Emma holds her breath.

“At least I know what name to give the police.”

Emma’s eyes widen, grip tensing on the now empty wine glass.

“You... I told you… The police. The cat.”

He is clearly better than her at keeping his expression neutral and lets her prattle on.

“Again, a cat which I have yet to see,” he reminds her. She frowns, first at the couch where Graham is hiding and then at her empty glass. He gestures towards her glass with his chin.

“Shall I fetch you more wine? I’m sure I have a red blend on hand” He makes sure to stress her earlier correction, a teasing tone infiltrating his accented words.

She narrows her eyes at him. He might be better at hiding his thoughts, but his eyes are dancing. She won’t bite.

“No thank you, I already have a bottle open next door,” Emma responds lightly. “Now if you’ll just give me a moment.” Emma jerks her head towards the couch, from where Graham has yet to emerge.

“By all means,” Killian nods his consent and settles in a chair across from her, ankle over knee. Emma allows herself one last glance at the rousing sight he poses and forces herself back on her hands and knees, empty glass on the table, trying not to feel utterly humiliated.

Graham is exactly where she left him, eyes barely open, paws curled underneath him. If she wasn’t so mad, she might even call him cute.

“Psst, Graham! Come here!” Emma tries again, trying to keep her voice low but the deep chuckle from across the room suggests she was anything but.

“Perhaps if you were politer, love.”

Emma does not reward his comment with a glance, but after biting off a silent oath, she closes her eyes and takes a few deep breaths. When she opens them again, she finds Graham staring back.

“Hey Graham, please come out,” she says softly and scratches the floor lightly with her nails. To her immense surprise, the cat slinks out into the open space. She pops up to her knees with a shout of success. The cat rubs up against her this way and that, before taking a seat beside her. She can’t help but grin widely at Killian.

“See!” She points to the cat and turns to scratch under his chin, the purring rolling out of him immediately. She looks up to find Killian crossing the room, a smile on his face mirroring her own. Her stomach flips, and she only hesitates a moment at his outstretched hand.

He helps her up and doesn’t makes a move to let go. She watches his Adam’s apple bob and gains some confidence at his sudden nerves.

“Can you call off the police now?” she asks, squeezing his hand before bending down to grab the cat.

“I suppose I shan’t be pressing charges today. As peculiar as this situation is, I do believe you are telling the truth.” His blue eyes flit across her face.

He’s even more beautiful up close but also, tired. There might be a cut across his cheek from a hockey injury, but the bruising under his eyes comes from sleepless nights and bone-weary exhaustion. She tries to remember what happened to him but can’t recall.

“Thank you,” she whispers, taking a few steps back but pauses, “But, you know, if your door had been closed,” she trails off.

“Wait, this is my fault? Doesn’t your door have to be open too? Shouldn’t we equally shoulder the blame?”

“I have a kid.”

“You have a kid?” confusion coloring his question.

“Yeah, you have a problem with that? He’s a good kid.”

“I didn’t mean-- it’s not,” he trails off, apparently unsure what they are arguing about now. He shakes his head and seems to find his footing again as a smile spreads across his face.

It throws her off.

“I’m sure if he’s anything like his mother, he’s a great kid.”

Emma’s eyes narrow and he holds up his hand in a placating manner but an incredulous laugh bubbles out of him anyway.

Emma feels her smile tugging at her lips. “A good kid who leaves his window open in December. Sorry,” Emma finally mumbles.

“You know, it’s quite alright, love. It’s actually brought some much-needed levity to my day, to be honest.”

Before Emma can ask what he means, they both hear Henry call out for her.

“Mom! Where are you?”

Graham struggles from her arms, and she lets him go. He darts outside, quickly slipping through the rails, and without a glance back, dashes into his actual home.

“I have to go,” she nods towards the door. Killian nods but follows her into the cold.

Emma eyes the railing and jumps when she feels him close behind, his voice a whisper in her ear. She freezes.

“Would you like a boost?”

She turns and has to look up, their breath clouds and mingles as Emma hesitates.

“Are you sure, with your hand?”

His smile drops and Emma immediately regrets her question, albeit a valid one.

“I have a useless hand, but I’m not a complete invalid.”

“I didn’t mean --”

Killian drops his head and takes a deep breath.

“I know you didn’t, I’m sorry, I’m,” he pauses, and Emma shivers as she waits. “I’m sorry, you’re freezing. Let me help; I assure you it’s fine.”

And before she knows what’s happening, his right hand and left palm are on her waist, and he’s helped her up onto the railing.

“Sorry again, and for the, um, breaking and entering. It won’t happen again,” she manages to say and makes to turn but the fingers on his right-hand squeeze, holding her in place.

“And again, after perhaps a rocky start, this was, nice. No need for apologies,” he admits and finally takes a step away.

Emma manages to turn herself and finds her footing on the bench.

“Good night, Killian,” she whispers, giving him a last look before stepping into her place.

She slides the door closed and leans back against it, suddenly warm all over.

“You look weird, why do you look weird?”

Emma jumps at her kid’s voice, suddenly right in front of her. He has Graham purring in his arms. Henry is staring at her like she’s crazy. Maybe she is. She can still feel the pressure of his hand on her hip.

“Maybe it’s because I had to brave the cold, because someone left their bedroom window open. In December I might add, and that someone’s cat escaped.”

Henry looks sheepish.

“Sorry.”

“Mmm.”

Henry wraps her in a tight hug, Graham stuck in the middle and a little less than thrilled about the situation.

“I’ll make you a hot cocoa?” Henry offers.

How is she supposed to be mad now?

She concedes. “That would be great, kid.”

“If you get your work done before supper, you can find something for us to watch on Netflix tonight,” Emma says around the grocery bag, toeing off her boots and nudging the front door closed with her hip. She looks around the bag to see Henry kicking his boots into the closet.

“Can I put the lights we got up in my room first?”

Emma hesitates.

“Please, it’s already December second and we don’t have anything decorated yet.”

“Not December second!” Emma teases and she can almost feel Henry roll his eyes.

“Mom.”

“Sure, you can put the lights up, just help me with these groceries first.”

They are on their way to the kitchen when a voice startles them both.

“Greetings, Swan and smaller Swan.”

Henry handles it well, socked feet sliding to a stop across the wood floor, eyes wide. Emma on the other hand handles it with less grace.

She chokes on her scream, only managing to catch it half way when she recognizes the voice. Although, there is no catching her grocery bag as it topples out of her grasp, spilling half its contents over the hardwood. Thankfully the plastic bags stay hooked over her fingers. She closes her eyes and breathes in through her nose but her voice still raises in pitch.

“Really? You broke into my house? Was that necessary?” she asks, grateful the shakes wracking her body don’t sound in her voice. She glances over at Henry to make sure he’s okay, but his look of surprise has already morphed into one of glee at whatever is happening.

What was happening? Since when did Emma have professional hockey players breaking into her home?

“Shh, you’ll wake the beast,” a whispered response filters across the room.

Emma slowly turns towards the living room and spies Killian Jones, stretched out on her couch, one arm behind his head, a sleeping Graham sprawled across his chest. In all the ways she had pictured their second encounter -- and okay, over the last few days maybe she had pictures a few, two, four tops — this had not been one of them.

“Besides, I no more broke into here than you did into mine,” he states, a sleepy lopsided grin on his face. Killian deposits the cat on the floor and lifts up from the couch. The hair at the back of his head is in complete disarray, static pulling it straight out, and she wonders how long he’s actually been there. She can’t help but note he looks a little less tired.

“Mom! You broke into someone’s house? So cool!” Henry exclaims, eyes bouncing between the two before landing back on Killian. “Whoa, wait. You’re Killian Jones.” Henry’s voice is tinted with awe.

And this is what makes Killian look bashful. Not being caught breaking in or this whole odd situation, but her eleven year old kid looking at him like he is some kind of star, which, really, he should be used to. He scratches behind his ear, the tip of which pinks at the statement. Emma tilts her head to study him.

“Pleased to meet you,” he trails off looking from Henry and to Emma. She somehow gets the impression he is asking for permission. Something she appreciates.

Henry looks like he hasn’t heard the question, still clearly enthralled by being in the presence of one of his idols.

“This is Henry, and Henry, it’s actually not cool to break into someone’s house. I was grabbing your cat? Remember? The one you let escape.” Emma gives her son a pointed look before heading towards the kitchen, stepping over the fallen groceries. “You’re picking that up,” she adds over her shoulder, eyes on Killian.

“I’m an injured man,” Killian replies but with no real heat as he is already heading towards the box of cereal and other assortment of canned goods strewn across the floor.

Henry dumps his own bags in the kitchen before hurrying over to help Killian.

“She totally doesn’t care. I had a broken arm once and I still had to take out the garbage,” Henry explains, eager to have something in common, piling his arms with canned tomatoes and sauce.

“I don’t remember your legs also being broken, were they?” Emma asks, slowly pulling items out of the bags, watching the odd scene before her. Killian straightens first and gives her a warm look that has color rising to her cheeks. She quickly looks away.

“Well, it is good form to help your mum whenever you can Henry, so I’m sure it was very much appreciated. Just like I appreciate the help you are lending me now.”

She is not sure if it’s the casual comment or the way her kid’s chest puffs out at the praise, but it causes her breath to hitch and she has to rest her hands on the counter to keep them from trembling. This isn’t how she operates with men, especially not around Henry. And what is she even thinking is going on anyway? She is being ridiculous, tired –

“Love?” his voice is closer, and she jumps when a warm hand closes over hers. She pulls her hand away and busies herself with the rest of the groceries. She can feel him watching her, just like she can feel her son rooting around the bags on the counter.

“I’m going to put these up now, okay?” Henry says more than asks, finding the Christmas lights, already heading towards his room, leaving Emma and Killian alone. She longs for Henry’s stress-free attitude, not the goosebumps that are spreading across her skin or the silence that is stretching out in the kitchen.

Maybe she should put some music on. Maybe she should ask him a question. What is he doing in Storybrooke? What happened to his hand? Why did he look so tired the other day? She turns with determination.

“So, are you going to tell me why you broke into my place or do you do that with all the girls?”

Oh God, where did that come from?

Her own words and the way his eyes shoot to hers, cause her to take a few steps back but he reaches out to stop her from hitting the counter. His hand lingers on her elbow, his thumb running back and forth. She squeezes the bag of marshmallows tightly in her fist as she tilts her head up.

She watches him watch her. His eyes blue and curious. She hopes he doesn’t feel the shiver as his fingers leave her elbow and trail down her arm.

“Careful love, wouldn’t want to ruin these marshmallows,” he whispers, taking the bag from her grasp and tossing it onto the counter behind her. He also takes a deep breath, preparing himself for an explanation.

“No, this is definitely a first for me and I didn’t quite break in, your patio door was unlocked,” he explains, but it’s the how, not the why. The question must still be on her face because his mouth ticks up in a flirty smirk. “You forgot your empty glass of red blend. I was simply taking it upon myself to return it to you, lest you felt the need to imbibe further.” He nods towards her desk, where a new bottle of wine sits along with her glass but it appears he isn’t done. His teasing smile falls away, replaced with something gentler. “Or perhaps I just wanted to see you again.”

“You could probably just use the front door next time,” Emma whispers before she can think of the implications.

“Next time?” he questions and she’s confused all over again. How is she supposed to think with her fried nerves and the blues eyes, and his chest brushing hers every time she tries to take a breath, not to mention her kid just down the hall, and what does she expect from a professional hockey player anyway? She turns away, needing to get some space. She grabs the marshmallows, shoving them in the pantry, and grabs a few other items, all but jamming them into the fridge.

“Yeah, sure. Next time or not or, whatever,” she trips over her words, shrugging, grateful for the cold air of the fridge against her warming cheeks. She counts to three and closes the door, turning back.

Killian has given her some space, moving back to lean against the opposite counter, legs crossed at the ankles.

“I’d like that.”

Oh.

“Oh, okay. Great.”

She’s making additional plans with a man she’s just met. A professional hockey player. An injured one that doesn’t seem to be with his team at the moment. Is that normal? Why Storybrooke? What the hell is she doing? Emma falls back against the fridge, unsure of what to say next, in case she blurts all the things out.

“I think you put your cereal in the fridge, love,” Killian offers, a new teasing smile stretching across his face, oblivious to all the questions she is holding back.

Emma scoffs, but doesn’t open the fridge, realizing she has no idea what she put in there.

“I did not,” she responds instead. He pushes off the counter and saunters towards her.

“Why don’t we have a look then,” he asks, sliding in close, close enough to feel the heat of him, close enough to--

“I’M STARVING. When are we eating?”

The sudden exclamation from Henry has them jumping apart, Killian back to his spot against the counter, and Emma plastered against the fridge. She looks around the kitchen and grabs the towel from the counter and wrings it tightly between her hands.

Henry stops between.

“You look weird again,” he states, watching her.

“What? I do not.”

He nudges her out of the way and opens the fridge.

“Yeah you do, you look exactly like the other day when you rescued Graham. All pink and weird.”

Killian does his best to cover his laugh with a cough, eyes dancing as he watches her.

Emma opens and closes her mouth, unable to find her words.

“Doesn’t she, Killian?” Henry asks without looking back, as if this is a normal thing, throwing a question to Killian.

“I think she looks lovely.”

Emma can’t look at either of them.

“Oookay. Hey Mom, why did you put the cereal in the fridge?”

This time Killian can’t hide his laughter but thankfully he leaves the kitchen, wandering over to where he left the bottle of wine. Emma takes a few deep breaths and finally steels herself.

“I read about it on Facebook this morning, something about keeping it fresher.”

She’s proud of that one and absolutely refuses to acknowledge the chuckles coming from the living room.

“Whatever you say,” Henry mumbles closing the fridge again. “Hey Killian, are staying for supper? Mom’s making her famous tortilla soup.”

Emma looks to the ceiling. She loves her kid, but sometimes his heart moves faster than she can keep up with. Speaking of Henry’s heart and his eagerness to take in strays, Graham winds his way around her legs and sits beside her.

He gives a small meow as if to say, Well?

She looks up to find Killian watching her.

“You don’t--”

What the hell.

“Well it is famous, at least between these four walls. Would you like to stay?” she finally asks and knows she’s made the right choice when she sees his shoulders relax and a true smile spread across his face.

“It would be an honor,” he answers and picks up the wine, holding it up in question. Emma gives him a small nod.

“Cool,” Henry seems to reply for the both of them, disappearing once again down the hall.

Cool, indeed.

She does get some answers to her questions, but not at first. Oh, he talks. He regales Henry with stories about the Bruins, about other star players in the league and cities he’s visited. Not much about himself but Henry doesn’t seem to mind, thoroughly distracted with all the other information. And Killian listens with rapt attention when Henry describes his first goal, waving away any comments about how long it took him to get it or how he isn’t as good as the other boys on the team.

“Do you like playing? Do you practice hard? Are you having fun?”

Henry had nodded with wide eyes.

“Everything else will come. I was never the best or the fastest or picked first but I loved the game and I worked hard every day. It’s about what’s in here,” Killian paused and tapped his heart.

“For real?” Henry had asked, voice full of hope.

“Absolutely, lad.”

So, she hadn’t gotten answers right away but she’d seen her kid leave the table with a dopey grin on his face and that’s more than she could have asked for.

“Thanks for that,” she says after the dishes are dropped in the sink and the lights are dimmed. Henry had excused himself to work on Christmas cards and they were left alone.

She’d topped off his glass of wine and feeling a little warm and relaxed herself, nudged him with her hip before making her way to the living room. It’s quiet and comfortable on her couch, and she pulls her legs up while she waits to see what Killian decides to do.

He takes a sip of his wine before walking to the living room. He stops to look at the pictures lining the wall.

“Nonsense, Swan. It was my pleasure,” he says quietly, eyes still on the pictures. “Is there a,” he starts and stops, turning around. She waits, pretty confident she knows where he’s going.

He leaves the pictures behind and surprises her by settling in the middle of the couch, thigh brushing her knees. He kicks his legs onto the table and finally looks over.

“Is there a Mr. Swan?” but then just as quickly follows with, “Nevermind, that’s none of my business.”

His eyes are on his wine, swirling it around the glass.

“No, it’s always just been Henry and I. His father was never quite ready for any kind of responsibility,” Emma answers quietly. “I do my best.”

“You’re a marvel, Swan,” he declares quite passionately. Emma snorts.

“Just a few days ago you were going to call the police on me. I’m a work in progress.”

He shakes his head but it’s a with a sad smile.

“If you are a work in progress, I must be an utter disaster.”

He takes a deep sip from his glass, clearly preparing to say more, so instead of protesting his comments or asking what he means, she waits. Later, she would guess it’s the wine that loosens his tongue or perhaps just the need to actually talk to someone that has him opening up.

“Did you see how this happened?” he asks, holding up his injured hand. For the first time, she takes a long look at it. She sees the stitches lining the three fingers that are braced together, the skin still pink and slightly swollen. He seems to stare at it in disgust.

“There’s so much metal in my hand now, I’m not sure a hook wouldn’t be better,” he mutters before finally looking up.

Emma gives him a patient smile.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t see what happened. I don’t really follow much of the sports news.”

He uses his hands to frame a makeshift headline, “Killian Jones, Boston Bruins right wing has sustained a gruesome injury to his hand for the second time in less than twelve months.”

“But it will heal? You’ll play again?” Emma asks when Killian pauses. He shrugs, leans his head back against the couch and closes his eyes.

“They say eight to twelve weeks but I’m not even supposed to go near a gym right now, I need to let my body recover from the trauma of surgery and all that. I was already struggling this season, trying too hard to get back to my past form. I don’t know if I’ll ever get it back. It’s one of the reasons I had to get out of Boston. Away from the fans, the sports talk radio, the well-meaning family and friends. I tried to tune it out but it’s near impossible. I heard the whispers, that the team would be better off without my salary on the books. I wasn’t the player I used to be after the first injury, now with this second one, it’s a lost cause.”

She hesitates but finally reaches out to squeeze his arm and waits for his eyes to be on hers.

“You don’t believe that,” she states firmly. He looks at his hand. “No, look at me. You don’t believe that or you wouldn’t be so frustrated. Right?” she asks and she taps over his heart, right where he’d showed Henry. His good hand closes over hers and he finally offers her a small smile.

“Perhaps not.”

“Good.”

As her fingers flex over the soft material of his sweater, she wonders if he knows her heart is pounding just as hard as his is below her fingers.

“Don’t rush it, Emma. I love what you have so far. I think we could easily do a few follow up pieces as well. Especially if you are right about the adoption house that accepted bribes to lose the paperwork. We’ll make a journalist out of you yet,” Ariel, voice full enthusiasm, calms Emma’s somewhat frazzled nerves.

She had hit send on her almost completed piece a few hours earlier and had been pacing the living room, between bouts of decorating, ever since. She lets her fingers trail over Henry’s stocking as she takes in Ariel’s words.

“Ok, that’s, that’s great Ariel. Thank you.”

The front door opens and Henry tumbles in, all excitement and awkward limbs. His backpack smashes into the wall in his haste to get it off and Emma cringes at the sound.

“Mom, mom. MOM! Oh, you’re there,” Henry grins as he pushes his hat out of his eyes. Emma points to the phone at her ear but apparently that’s not enough to stop him. “Mom, can we go to Killian’s for dinner? Like now? Can we?”

She can hear Ariel laugh on the other end of the line.

“Henry, breathe. We can’t just show up,” Emma states calmly.

“But Killian said,” Henry starts and the man in question is suddenly behind him, whispering something in her kid’s ear, eyes bright on Emma’s. Her heart stutters in her chest.

“Are you seeing someone Emma? Is he handsome?” Ariel teases across the line. “Killian, you know that’s the name of our missing star Bruin. You aren’t dating a hockey player are you Emma?”

Emma’s heart nearly stops.

“What? No, no. Not at all.”

Ariel laughs again.

“I know. I’m just teasing. I’ll let you be with your family. Let’s chat next week. Bye, Emma.”

The line is dead before Emma can catch up. She drops her arm to her side and finally focuses on the two men in front of her.

“Everything alright, love?” Killian asks, dropping his injured hand on Henry’s shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah. Just my editor.”

Killian’s eyebrows shoot up. They hadn’t gotten that far in their conversation the other night.

“My mom’s going to be famous,” Henry states proudly.

“Hardly, Henry,” Emma tucks her phone away and walks towards them. “I’m just writing a small piece on adoption and some of the difficulties people, kids, myself, go through,” she finishes quietly.

“For the Globe?” he asks and there’s something he’s hiding behind the simple question. Emma has a strong feeling it has to do with journalists and getting away from them.

“Yeah, I’m still in shock, I’ve never done anything like this before.”

He seems to process the information before shaking it off and the smile from before returns. Before he can respond, Henry speaks up.

“So, can we mom?”

Emma is lost, Killian thankfully clears things up.

“I saw your boy in the hall, I hope you don’t mind that I mentioned it to him first. I wanted to thank you for the lovely dinner the other night by having you over. I’m not much of a cook, so I picked up Granny’s. I was assured I have your favorites.”

He pulls up his other hand revealing a large brown take out bag.

Emma waits but it’s mostly to bug Henry who is almost vibrating with excitement.

“Put your bag in your room and feed your cat, then we can go over.”

Henry lets out a whoop and nearly stumbles out of his boots in his haste. She waits until he’s down the hall before speaking.

“You don’t have to do this,” she whispers.

“I wanted to, love.”

She studies him, trying to remember the last time someone wanted to treat her and Henry, someone that wasn’t her brother and sister-in-law.

“Did you get onion rings? Mom loves onion rings. She’ll love you forever,” Henry yells from the kitchen.

“Of course, lad,” he calls back and then softer, “forever?”

Emma hiccups a laugh, better to laugh than to freak out.

“Let’s start with tonight.”

“I can do that.”

“Sorry my place isn’t as comfortable as yours. I didn’t really do the decorating, never really expected to spend much time here.”

“This is very comfortable,” Emma assures him. He gives her a skeptical look. They are spread out on the floor after originally trying out the couch and finding it stiff and uncomfortable. Killian had disappeared into what she assumes is his bedroom and come back, arms piled with blankets. She’s wrapped in one now. And she is trying very hard not to think about how it very much feels like he’s wrapped around her; the blanket must be from his bed.

She’s a little overwhelmed.

But she’s also very much charmed.

She leans back against the couch, and glances at Henry, spread out on his stomach, not minding the development in the least, finishing the last of his fries. She takes a deep breath.

Killian stretches out his legs and nudges Henry’s foot with his.

“Want to find us something to watch?”

“Sure.”

He takes the remote from Killian’s outstretched hand, and proceeds to flick through the channels.

“Oh!” Emma’s surprised exclamation receives a groan from Henry but he stops his channel surfing.

“What am I missing?” Killian asks glancing between the two.

“Mom loves these Christmas movies. It’s always about two dumb people who don’t know they are in looooove,” Henry gags on the last word but tosses the remote aside, settling in to watch.

“Kid, we don’t have to watch this.”

“It’s okay. You saw Star Wars with me,” Henry reasons simply and then snickers at a character falling in the snow. Emma stares at her son with a swell of emotion.

“He’s a good kid,” Killian whispers, sliding closer to her on the floor. She turns her head and is brought up short by his proximity. She can’t help but let her eyes drift across his features; the cut on his cheek only a thin pink line now, the shadows under his eyes almost gone, the quirk to his lips. She looks up and finds him watching her just as patiently as ever. That is until his own eyes dip and stall for a moment on her lips. She presses her teeth into her bottom lip to keep from doing anything ridiculous like dropping her eyes to his lips. Except it might be worse, because she has a front row to his dark lashes that almost brush the tops of his cheeks, as she presses her teeth harder, he makes a small sound from the back of his throat that has her heart working overtime.

He seems to surprise himself with it, and looks up. He leans over and Emma holds her breath. He tugs the blanket a little tighter around her shoulders, and just ghosts his thumb over her lips, freeing it from her teeth.

“Thank you,” he whispers, his hand finding hers on the floor, warming her chilled fingers.

“I think I should be the one thanking you.”

But he shakes his head, squeezing her hand, turning towards the TV. The two main characters are decorating a perfectly manicured tree.

“Hey, Killian?”

He doesn’t let go of her hand and she doesn’t move.

“Yes, master Swan?”

Henry snickers.

“Are you going to put up a tree?”

“Mmm, I don’t think so. I don’t really have any decorations here.”

There’s a pause as they watch the woman on the screen slip from a stepladder and into a man’s arms.

“That’s okay. You can share ours. We are going to get our tree tomorrow, right, mom?”

“Right.”

Killian’s hand tightens on hers.

“See, it’s for me to thank you, love.”

He shares their tree. He shows up with antlers on his head and ornaments for each of them. It makes it easier for Emma to pull out the small Captain Hook ornament she found for him. Thankfully he gets the joke, and hangs it with a smile. But it also makes it harder not to reach out and touch him like she wants to.

A few days later he suggests they come over to bake cookies and when Emma leaves the room for five minutes she comes back to not the twelve perfectly round balls they had rolled but one nearly life sized gingerbread man.

“Really, guys?”

The twin grins she receives dissolves any of her exasperation.

He helps Henry with his math homework. They watch terrible Christmas movies.

He somehow, in a few short weeks, slips into their everyday lives.

They don’t talk about what’s happening. Not to each other, not to others. Emma doesn’t tell Mary Margaret when she calls to confirm New Year’s plans and even Henry seems to want to keep it between the three of them. Their own special thing.

And since that first supper at her place, they don’t talk about hockey. That is, until Henry brings it up.

“When are you going to play again?”

Killian turns from the patio doors where he’d been watching the snow fall. He doesn’t look like he knows how to answer, doesn’t look like he knows the answer himself.

“I’m not exactly sure, Henry.”

He looks down at his hand and Emma’s heart aches for him.

“But don’t you miss skating?”

“Henry, give him a break,” Emma steps in, ruffling Henry’s hair.

“No, it’s alright. Of course, I miss skating.”

“We should go,” Henry suggests like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

“Henry.”

“Sorry.”

Emma huffs and walks over to Killian, touching his arm as he looks outside.

“Sorry. He doesn’t quite understand,” she whispers but hears his tut of disagreement.

He puts his arm around her and pulls her in close. She lets herself melt into him a little.

“It’s quite alright. The lad isn’t wrong. I do miss it, I just don’t know,” his whispered words trail off and she can imagine all the different ways to end that sentence.

He doesn’t know if he’s ready.

He doesn’t know when he will be.

Doesn’t know if he needs to go back to Boston to make that happen. He probably needs to go back to Boston.

Emma’s chest tightens at that thought, suddenly the idea of not having him nearby every day difficult to imagine. She holds onto him a little tighter. But as she takes in his profile, feels his strength beneath the cotton of his Henley, she knows she’s being selfish and so she wonders if there is anything she can do to help. Wonders if Henry actually has the right idea.

So, what does she do? She kidnaps him.

“Get in the car.”

“Come again, Swan?”

“I need you to get in my car.”

“And what pray tell are we doing?”

“Killian.”

“Emma��

“Killian, come on!” They both hear Henry call out.

“And put this on.” Emma shoves a hat into his chest. He looks at it, then at her.

“I’m still not sure what exactly we are doing or why you aren’t telling me.”

So maybe she plays dirty. She rises up to the tips of her toes and brings her lips to his ear.

“Please.”

As she pulls back, her lips press a feather light kiss to his cheek. His eyes look at her, unfocused, curious, and finally hungry.

She doesn’t give him a chance to say anything else, instead she opens the car door and all but shoves him in. The quicker she gets him in the car, the less time she has to back out of what very well may be a terrible plan.

“What are we doing here, Swan?”

Henry, unable to keep it in anymore, finally bursts from the backseat.

“We’re going skating!” He’s unbuckled and out the door before Killian can clearly fully process what is going on. They both watch Henry, backpack in hand hurry down the snowy path to a bench near a clearing.

Emma can’t stand the silence and she can’t actually get her head to turn to look at him so she fills the silence with as many words and explanations as she can.

“So, I don’t know if this is a terrible idea or not. It may be the worst. I may be the worst.”

“You are most definitely not the worst.”

She chooses to ignore him and forges on.

“But, I thought if you missed skating and I don’t know maybe you weren’t ready to head back to Boston, I mean I’m not ready for you to head to Boston either. But yeah, maybe this would be okay. I know for a fact we’ll be alone. This is a friend’s property, they make this for Henry every year, so no spectators, nothing to worry about. We can stay for five minutes or five hours, whatever you want really. I hope you aren’t too upset. It was my idea, so if you are mad, get mad at me. Henry was just excited to be involved in a covert mission. He called it Operation Icing.”

She closes her eyes and sucks in a deep breath. She thinks she might get sick.

“Look at me, Swan.”

She pops one eye open and slowly turns.

He might be smiling.

“Now the other one, love.”

She opens both eyes and feels a small weight lift from her chest. He’s smiling, a real genuine Killian Jones smile. A smile she’s come to really, really enjoy.

“Are you mad?”

“Not mad.”

“Okay, that’s um, good. Great really.”

They look back outside. Henry already has his skates on and is taking his first turn on the ice.

“Are you getting on the ice too?” Killian asks, slowly pulling off his seatbelt.

“Oh, I’ll get on. Whether or not I stay on my feet is another question altogether.”

“I won’t let you fall.”

She turns to him with wide eyes.

“And Emma, you were right, I’m not ready to head back to Boston either but it has nothing to do with the Bruins or my hand or anything like that.”

Before she can respond, he’s out of the car, jogging down the path, hollering something to Henry about shifting his weight to his front leg.

She gathers herself, gathers the bag with the skates, and joins him by the outdoor rink.

He doesn’t let her fall.

The first day they met, the circles under his eyes were dark and his whole spirit looked defeated; He’d steadily looked better every day since then. Rested, easier smiles, less irritated looks towards his injured hand.

Which is why when her phone rings and all she hears is her name rasped out in pain, everything in her seizes up. She quickly looks to Henry who is thoroughly invested in his video game before slipping into the kitchen.

“Killian, what’s happened? Are you okay?”

She can hear his ragged breathing, she can almost feel his panic.

“Killian? Where are you?”

“I’m at home. I’m, could you come over? Is Henry alright alone for a moment?”

“Of course, of course. I’ll be right over.”

The phone goes dead and she very deliberately tucks it in her front pocket. She does everything cautiously because if she doesn’t, she might panic as well, having no idea what is going on.

“Hey kid, you okay if I pop over to Killian’s for a second? He just needs my help with something and I’ll be right back?”

He barely takes his eyes off the screen, “Yup.”

She lets herself into Killian’s and finds it dark. She follows the stream of light down the hall and sees it coming from the bathroom.

“Killian?” she asks hesitantly, rapping on the door. It opens of its own accord, revealing Killian pressed against the wall, head back, breath coming in quick pants, a pallor to his skin.

She takes a step in and finally sees his injured hand wrapped in towel, a few spots of blood blooming across the white fabric.

“What happened?”

When he doesn’t answer she touches his chest, places her hand over his heart. She feels it racing. At her touch, he finally speaks, eyes still clenched shut.

“I’m not sure. I was trying to do something in the kitchen and I moved too quickly. I hit my hand, there was blood. I, I don’t know. It’s not the blood. I,” his words come between quick gulps of air. “Emma, if I screwed up my hand again. If I have to have another surgery, if I never plays again--”

His breath comes quicker and she can see what’s happening. She can see him working himself up and she hasn’t looked at his hand yet but if she had to guess, it’s probably fine. What is happening, is a panic attack.

“Killian. Killian, look at me.”

Her hands cup his face, thumbs running gently over his cheeks. He’s clammy and cool.

“Killian,” she urges again and his eyes finally flutter open. She gives him a gentle smile.

“Try taking a deep breath.” She waits until he does, and then nods as he takes a few more. “That’s it.”

He’s still shaking, so she drops the lid on the toilet and urges him to sit, never really letting go. Once he’s settled, she takes his good hand and places it on her hip.

“Squeeze. Feel something real and solid and concentrate on that. Keep breathing.”

He squeezes her once, twice, three times before dropping his head to her stomach. The pressure doesn’t let up on her hip but as she runs her fingers through his hair at the nape of his neck, his breathing finally begins to calm.

“You’re okay,” she whispers any time his breath shudders out and once even that stops, she finally decides to look at his hand.

“I mean, I’m no doctor but I’ll let you know if it’s still there.”

She feels even better when his low laugh vibrates against her stomach.

She pulls the cloth away. She can see where he must have knocked his hand hard enough to draw blood but the small wound is already clotting, no swelling, nothing looks out of place. She turns on the hot water and dabs the area with the cloth, cleaning it up.

“I think we can put a Band-Aid on it and I mean, you should probably call your doctor eventually but I think you’re going to be okay.”

She presses a kiss to the back of his hand, away from the injury and finds his eyes watching her as she pulls away. With the crisis over, she feels her own adrenaline kick in and has to will her body not to shake with the force of it.

“How does it feel now?”

He doesn’t seem to hear her question, choosing instead to look at her in wonder. It does nothing to help the shaking she is trying to keep under control.

She runs the back of her hand across his forehead, happy he doesn’t feel so cold.

“Killian?”

That seems to shake him out of his reverie. He squeezes her hip again.

“Better. Much better. I think I just, panicked,” he finally admits.

“Good. I’m glad.”

She runs her hand through his hair, over his ear, something about touching him, seeing his eyes flutter closed, grounds her.

Until a thought crosses her mind.

“This is all my fault. I shouldn’t have forced you out skating yesterday.”

“You didn’t force me, Swan.”

“I told you to get in the car and didn’t tell you where we were going.”

“You asked me politely to get in the car,” he clarifies.

“Demanded.”

“Strongly suggested.”

Emma huffs. He isn’t making it easy to assume the responsibility, but as she looks at him again, she is happy to see the color returning to his cheeks, his blue eyes clear and sure.

“I also broke into your apartment and found your skates.”

He looks thoughtful for a moment.

“Is it really breaking and entering if I leave the door unlocked for you?”

“I even my brought my kid along to temper your reaction. I mean, who can get mad at Henry?”

Yup, she is shaking now, well aren’t they a pair.

“It’s not your fault, love. I was trying to do too much at once, I wasn’t aware of my surroundings.”

“I just would hate,” Emma’s words catch in her throat as Killian stands, hand still on her hip as he crowds into her space.

Her back hits the wall and she hiccups a small sound of surprise. He rests his forehead against hers and she finds herself holding onto his waist just as tight as he is holding onto hers.

“I would hate to think of not having you here to help me. I can’t imagine. So, thank you.” His voice is a whisper as his lips find her forehead.

“You’d be fi-ine,” she stutters out as he moves to her cheek and presses another kiss there, and then again to the opposite side, all the while whispering his thanks.

She’s not sure how she’s still standing.

He pulls back just enough to look into her eyes, just enough so she can see those eyes drop to her lips, his intentions clear.

She’s not sure if he dips or she rises up on her toes but they meet somewhere in the middle. She hears that sound again from him, something caught between a hum and groan, and it’s something she feels across every inch of her and rolling against her tongue as she opens up for him.

He can’t seem to get close enough, his fingers tightening on her hip, urging her against him. Her hips rising to meet him.

“Oh.” Her sigh of want is lost between them, swallowed by lips that continue to taste, to insist on more.

When he finally moves away from her mouth, when his face is buried against her neck, sucking against her pulse point and his groan causes goosebumps to appear across her skin, she finally finds her voice. Barely.

“I should get back, Henry and—”

Oh, she tries, she really does but when looks up and his eyes are dark and his nose keeps brushing hers, she allows herself one more taste.

“I have to get back,” she finally whispers and she feels him nod against her neck, where his lips trail one last time before pulling away. Her whole body is coiled tight.

“I know, love. I could,”

“Come over,” she blurts out.

The most beautiful smile stretches across his face.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, we can have supper and finish Window Wonderland.”

This time she feels his laugh against her lips, and can still feel it when she heads back to her apartment, knowing he is soon to follow.

He’s in her living room, staring out the window, when she gets home from work. Nothing usual or startling about that anymore, she almost comes to expect it. What she doesn’t expect is the hard set to his shoulders, the tension she can almost feel from across the room.

She should have known. She watches enough Christmas movies to know something always goes wrong. She’s lived enough of her own heartbreak to know what she’d found was too good to be true. Her lips must be cursed.

“Everything okay?”

She knows the answer is no. She can feel it in her bones but maybe she can be wrong this time. Please be wrong this time.

He doesn’t turn but he speaks, his tone harsh.

“Did you tell Sidney Glass where to find me? Did you tell the Globe?”

Emma doesn’t like the clear accusatory tone of his voice, it doesn’t sound like he’s asking questions. He should know better, he should know her better by now. But she can see he’s worked himself up again and she knows what an asshole Sidney Glass is, so maybe she can let this slide.

“Did you sell me out to get better placement for your article?”

No. Not that though.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. How else did he find me? How else does he know that I haven’t been back to Boston for the PT I should be doing?”

Emma approaches him slowly, trying to stay calm but he takes a step back.

“You know what, it doesn’t matter. I wanted to look up something on your computer and I saw all the tabs, the research into the Bruins staff.”

Emma’s reeling, she has no idea what’s going, she can’t keep up with the accusations. She shakes her head.

“So, you believe him? Over me? Over what we,” she trips over that last thought. “That’s what you think of me?”

“What am I supposed to think?” he asks, voice rising.

Before Emma can say that he’s supposed to trust her, they are interrupted by Henry’s trembling voice.

“That was me.”

They both look over at the same time. Her kid looks ready to cry and now she’s mad. She hears Killian’s quiet curse.

“I was looking stuff up. Not mom. It was for Operation Stanley. For you. I don’t know who that Glass guy is. I’m sorry. Don’t be mad at mom.”

She sees the first tear fall down Henry’s cheek and she wants to hit something, preferably Killian.

Henry disappears down the hall and they both jump when his door slams.

“I think you should leave.”

“Emma,” he quickly pleads, all the fight gone, looking like he only now realizes how much of an idiot he is.

“I don’t know what kind of holiday miracle I was thinking this was. Things like this don’t happen in real life. Besides, you’ll be back in Boston soon enough and leave us anyway. So, it’s probably just best if you go now. I really need to check on Henry.”

“Emma,” he tries again, sounding broken. Well, she guesses they are all a little broken right now, her own dam all but ready to burst.

“You can let yourself out.”

She leaves him standing there.

** Henry’s pain is easier to soothe than her own but she doesn’t much care for her own feelings right now. Or maybe it’s just easier to bury them. She’s good at that.

She assures Henry that Killian isn’t mad at him. That it was a misunderstanding and he had to visit his own family for Christmas. It could be true. She’s not sure. She hasn’t seen him. Not that she’s looked, much. Maybe she knocked once, but the home next to hers remains dark and still.

She appreciates Henry’s easy acceptance. Even if he might not completely believe her, even if he’s believing for her.

She has a really great kid.

They open their presents on Christmas morning, just the two of them. They stay in their pajamas all day and have breakfast for dinner. They FaceTime Mary Margaret and David and promise they can’t wait to see them for New Year.

It’s fine and nice, just like every Christmas, but even though neither say it, they both know someone is missing.

She holds Henry a little tighter that night as they watch The Goonies.

“How long do you think it would take for someone to find us if we hit a snowbank?”

Emma eases the car to a careful stop at the blinking red traffic light, and she counts it as a victory that her heart only stutters once when her back tires drift to the right.

“Not helping, kid.”

She loosens her hands on the steering wheel and turns to stare down her son. She feels more confident keeping her eyes on him than looking back outside.

Henry grins.

“Sorry. You’re doing great, ma. Just think of the story we’ll have to tell David and Mary Margaret,” Henry tries instead, and Emma sniffs a small laugh. “Maybe try the high beams?”

She switches her headlights to high, and they both look outside.

“Well, now I feel like we’re in that Stephen King movie,” Emma mumbles.

The high beams only exacerbate the problem, magnifying the amount of snow racing towards the car against the black night.

“That movie was hilarious,” Henry snorts out a laugh when Emma glares at him. He wiggles his gloved fingers at her. “Give me what I want, and I’ll go away,” he quotes from the movie before falling back into his seat, shoulders shaking with laughter.

“I should have never let you watch that.”

“You mean I shouldn’t have let you watch it,” Henry corrects her.

Emma shakes her head but finally cracks a smile before turning back to the challenge at hand. She checks both ways, although it’s not like there’s anyone else dumb enough to be on the roads, and eases forward. The snow cushions the sound of the tires, and they quietly roll further up the winding street.

“How about a driving song?” she asks, needing the distraction. Henry immediately fiddles with his iPod.

Emma startles at the quick drum beat and then has to laugh; he’s chosen, It’s the end of the world.

“And I feel fine,” the both sing together.

***

They pull up to a rustic but charming two-story cabin. It has wrap around decks and Christmas lights that twinkle from beneath the newly fallen snow. The windows glow warmly, and smoke rises in thick plumes from the stone chimney. It looks like the perfect way to spend New Year’s and judging by the amount of snow that is still falling, the next few days as well.

Emma is grateful for the escape from reality and the promise of a friendly shoulder to lean on.

When she and Henry had finally found the Low River Road turn-off, they’d given a small cheer and held their breath as her bug inched up the final steep hill. (With a small note to let David and Mary Margaret know, maybe they could rent a place a little less out of the way.) But now that the handbrake is pulled and the motor off, it’s not so bad.

“Grab your suitcase and the green grocery bag.”

It doesn’t take them long to load up with their bags and push through the snow to reach the front door. After a knock that is met with silence, they figure Mary Margaret and David are busy with dinner preparations and let themselves in.

“Whoa, this is awesome,” Henry whispers in awe as they step inside. They find themselves in a large living room, a fire crackling at one end, large picture windows lining the front wall. Emma has to grab him by the hood before he tracks snow all over the floor.

“Boots, coat, and grab a bag, then you can go find Mary Margaret and David and explore.”

Emma drops her bags and turns to hang her coat when she feels Henry tugging on her arm.

“Uh, mom,” he mumbles.

“One sec, I have hat hair,” she responds tipping her head over to shake out her blonde curls.

“Mom. Now.”

She stands up, words about patience on the tip of her tongue but they get stuck in her throat.

Two people she’s never seen before stand across from them, peeking out from what she assumes is the kitchen, matching confused expressions.

She blinks and reaches for Henry, tugging him closer.

“You said the address was 223,” she mutters.

“It is,” he whispers back peevishly, clearly offended at her assumption that he got something wrong.

And so, Emma takes a deep breath and smiles.

“You wouldn’t happen to have David and Mary Margaret Nolan hiding in the kitchen?” she asks, stuffing her hands in her back pockets.

The couple approaches, not looking much older than her, smiles tentative. She’s clearly interrupted them making dinner, as the man has a Kiss the Cook apron on and the woman is drying her hands on a towel, but they don’t look put out, just a little puzzled.

Before anyone can say anything else another voice calls out from the kitchen.

“Did you want the Pinot Noir or the Cabernet?”

Emma’s heart might stop completely.

Un-fucking-believable. This isn’t real life. This doesn’t happen.

A dark, messy head of hair looks through the doorway, first, at the couple he clearly knows and then to Emma and Henry. He nearly falls into the living room.

“Emma? Henry?”

She hiccups out a breath she didn’t know she was holding.

“Killian,” she mumbles and feels all eyes on her.

***

It doesn’t take long to figure out the misunderstanding. Mary Margaret and David are in fact on 223 Low River Road but somehow in the storm, Emma and Henry had turned on High River Road and let themselves into a cottage that belonged to complete strangers.

Well. Sort of.

The cottage is owned by Liam and Elsa Jones, an extremely welcoming and understanding couple, who also happen to be Killian’s brother and sister-in-law. And while Emma and Killian had stared in silent shock at each other, Elsa had taken charge. She insisted Emma and Henry come inside and warm up by the fire while they figured everything out. Emma had tried to beg off but no sooner were the words out of her mouth, Elsa was at her side, arm around her shoulders.

“Nonsense.”

She just manages to grab onto Henry’s hand, all the while carefully avoiding any direct eye contact with the wide blue eyes that seem to want to say a hundred different things. She isn’t sure she is ready for any of them.

“I mean if we made it here, we could probably make it over there,” Emma states without much conviction as she stares out the front window, arms tight around herself. If she squints, she can just make out the glowing lights of David and Mary Margaret’s cottage across the lake.

“You can’t possibly head back out in this, don’t be an idiot,” Killian finally blurts out from the kitchen threshold.

Emma slowly turns to him, as does everyone else.

“That’s the first thing you have to say to me?” she asks. “Pretty sure there’s one idiot in this room and it’s not me.”

Killian sputters, Liam hides his laugh behind a cough, Henry looks shocked and Elsa hurries across the room to wrap an arm around Killian’s waist.

“I think what my brother-in-law is trying to say is, no one should be out in this weather. They won’t clear the roads until morning, and he would much rather have you here safe. We all would. I’m sure your brother told you the same thing.”

Emma opens and closes her mouth and eyes the window, watching the snow continue to fall, thicker and harder than before. Elsa isn’t wrong, David actually threatened to leave her in the cold if she dared to leave.

“We have plenty of food and beds for you,” Elsa adds, smile wide, but Emma notices the pinch she gives to Killian’s side, silencing him. “And plenty of Champagne.”

Emma looks to Henry who shrugs, but she sees the beginnings of a smile overtaking his face, although he hesitates, looking to Killian.

“You really don’t mind?”

A small crack in her armor appears at the sight of Killian’s frustrated demeanor crumbling at Henry’s question.

“Oh, Henry” he starts, pained, and takes a step forward but stops, looking to Emma. She gives him a tight nod.

She has to look away when Killian drops to his knee in front of Henry.

“Lad, of course I don’t mind. I’m quite glad you’re here, that the fates deemed me lucky enough to ring in the New Year with you and your mum. I’m truly sorry what I did made you think otherwise. As ever, your mother is right, I am indeed an idiot and I hope you can forgive me.”

Henry surprises Killian with a hug, nearly knocking him off balance.

She won’t cry.

She roughly rubs a stray tear away with the back of her hand.

She won’t cry more than a tear.

Emma pulls in a deep breath through her nose, trying to get her eyes to focus on something, anything, outside.

“Think I could go apologize to your mum now?”

Henry’s answer is whispered but she assumes it must be in the affirmative because the next thing she hears is Elsa asking him if he wants to help pick out some dessert and Liam’s deep chuckle at whatever Henry’s response is.

She can’t bring herself to move from her spot by the window, especially not when she feels him behind her, close and warm and he has to know.

“I didn’t talk to Sidney Glass.”

“I know,” comes his quiet reply.

“I would never have done that to you.”

“I know.”

“But,”

She feels his hand at her elbow and allows him to turn her. His hand moves to brush against her cheek, knuckles wiping away the wet trails. She clearly isn’t very good at the one tear thing.

“How do you know? How do you know now and not then? Who did you speak to? What,” her voice catches. “What do you want?”

“You,” he says simply.

She shakes her head.

“I don’t…”

“I know you. I knew then it wasn’t you but I let him in my head, I’m so terribly sorry. I saw the research, I had a voicemail from my trainer and I panicked. I’m having a harder time handling this injury than I thought and I took it out on the wrong people.”

His hand finds her hip and squeezes and it’s like something clicks in place. She really looks at him for the first time since arriving. She sees the sincerity in his eyes, sees the man that reached for her in his moment of panic and she lets herself lean into him, hand over his heart. He seems to sag in relief.

“I went to Boston,” he reveals and her hand tightens in his shirt but he shakes his head at her worry. “Wait,” he whispers and takes a deep breath.

“I went to Boston to see my doctor. You were right, I didn’t do anything but superficial damage to my hand that night. In fact, it’s healing quite well and she thinks that I can start some rehabilitation as soon as this week. But I’m going to do it here, in Storybrooke.”

Her eyes widen in surprise and Killian actually smiles. It’s small and a little nervous, but also, hopeful.

“You’re going to stay here?”

“Well, I’ll have to go back to Boston from time to time and eventually I hope I can hold a stick again and play but,”

“You’re totally going to play again,” Emma interrupts his explanation but then apologizes, “Sorry, sorry, but?”

Her heart races while she waits but his full smile now lets her know she has nothing to be anxious about.

“But right now, we have time, here. That is, if you’ll have me? And then we can figure out the rest, together.”

She nods, not trusting her voice. He pulls her closer, forehead falling to hers.

“Yeah?” he asks.

“Yeah,” she finally answers, nose nudging against his, lips so close she can almost taste him.

“You guys almost done? Dinner’s getting cold.”

She nearly jumps out of her skin at Liam’s booming voice but she doesn’t go far, instead nearly collapses into Killian. She just catches Henry’s grin across the room before burying her face into Killian’s shoulder, delighting at the feel of his exasperated laugh and his whispered words.

“I got you.”

They eat, they drink, they ignore the blustery weather outside and they finally make it to the final ten seconds before the New Year.

And when the clock strikes twelve, Emma finds Henry first, peppering him with kisses that he pretends to hate but laughs the whole way through. She lets herself be pulled into a hug from Liam and to a kiss on the cheek from Elsa but from across the room her eyes find Killian’s and she knows what she wants.

They meet in the middle and she shivers as his lips find her ear.

“Happy New Year, love.”

She glances around and when she finds Henry happily occupied with Elsa and Liam, she tightens her grip on Killian’s hand and tugs him around the corner into the hall.

His breath whooshes out of him when his back hits the wall but he seems more than happy to be in that position. Emma presses up against every delicious inch of him, arms winding around his neck.

“Okay?” she whispers her question against his lips before swallowing his humming agreement, easily getting lost in the warm, wet slide of his tongue. And she knows they should stop, should rejoin the group but he tugs her closer, and she wants to taste the champagne on his lips a little longer so she gives herself a few more moments of being selfish.

When they finally pull away, and she works to calm her breathing, she finds his eyes, blue and full of an emotion neither might be ready to name but she’s certainly close to feeling.

“Happy New Year, Killian,” she finally says, heart absolutely full.

And maybe she lets him kiss her one last time for good measure.

#cs ff #cs fanfic #cs au #cssecretsanta #captain swan #csss #csss2017 #lana writes cs #cs fluff #have the most wonderful holidays and merry christmas!#fic: what a year for a new year

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