#ill like do thumbs up say hes very cool and make a polite exit LOL

[floorpancakes]

[pinkysfaultorbrainsfault]

pinky and the brain: s1e7 - tv or not tv

y’all do NOT understand how many times i have tried to post this. tumblr just will not stop eating it. this was supposed to be out last wednesday LMAO i am doing my best.

episode summary: brain engineers a pair of Mouse Dentures that give him a charming smile. anyone hypnotised by these dentures Suddenly Adores Him For No Good Reason. unfortunately, he’s also a bit of a shut in, so nobody is actually going to see his charming smile-- unless he gets himself a sitcom.

....or something.

the rundown:

we open on brain talking about the “weird and magical power” of celebrity. he has defaced several women, and is sticking his ass out. as you do. what is he doing to CINDY! and her ilk?? he must be stopped.

“those who have it weild tremendous influence. few can avoid the enchantment of its’ spell.”

“do you know what gives them this power?”

holy shit. he just stabbed CINDY!.

pinky absolutely does not care for CINDY!’s fate. “haha. narf. hey, paddlefoot, do you know what they call a quarter pounder in france?”

of course, sirius black was not in pulp fiction, and neither, as far as i can tell, was he in france. brain silences him with “enough gay banter”, like he wasn’t just sticking his ass out in his general direction, like, two minutes ago.

(this was the 90s, y’all. gay definitely meant gay back then. this is not the faraway tree.)

“pinky! behold the key to the power of attraction!”

“pushpins!”

“hurraaaaaaaaaaaah!”

“no, pinky.”

apparently the key to attraction is a

“winning smile”, as brain points out, tapping on CINDY!’s poor mutilated face for emphasis.

“and a nice healthy gum!”

“and... a nice healthy gum.”

it turns out that brain has “taken this idea of the influential smile to a new level - a level no less than world domination“, which is bold words for Mr Tumble Dryer. to achieve this, he has invented

teeth.

(okay. so it’s a bit bigger than that. he shows pinky the plans for,

and then a prototype of, a whole machine built specifically to engineer him little mousie dentures. a lot of work went into this one. shame, really.

“when did you have time to build that?”

“while you were engrossed in your mr belvedere reruns.”

“oh, i miss him. ):” )

anyway so. brain puts his teeth in.

there he is.

pinky describes this as

“enchanting (’:”

and brain affirms that it’s supposed to be. apparently the “reflective vibrations” (okay) of his smile stimulates the medula oblongata,

“causing the viewer to adore me for no good reason!”

“zort! i’m adoring you for no good reason!”

(he does point out, while brain is admiring his reflection in a nearby bunsen burner, “what if they’re wearing sunglasses?”

brain’s response is “we’ll work nights.”)

still, brain can’t just sit around in the lab twiddling his thumbs and expect the general public to Adore Him For No Reason. he needs exposure! and as pinky ponders “what would mr belvedere do,” brain asserts that he would “eat some butter”.

“i’m afraid, my friend, that you’ve seen far too much of mr belvede--”

more like mr belvIDEA lol. sorry i’ll see myself out.

“pinky, are you pondering what i’m pondering?”

“i think so, brain, bur it’s a miracle that this one grew back. ):”

.....okay.

thankfully, the plan is not, in fact, to amputate pinky’s leg. again???? instead, brain intends to use a weapon of “great stealth, power, and corruption.”

OUR OWN SITCOM.

✨

meanwhile, at the wb studio, we meet jerry kilmer. mr kilmer is currently being harassed by some dudes who also really, really want their own sitcom. for far less nefarious purposes, presumably.

“so there’s this guy, right?”

“and get this! he designs--”

“BIKINIS.”

“TINY LITTLE BIKINIS. OKAY okay okay okay so here’s the hook.”

“HE’S PRETENDING--”

“TO BE BLIND.”

it does not appear to be what mr kilmer is looking for.

(meanwhile, the mice are spying on the acme labs janitor. he seems like a cool dude! but the mice are not here for friendship.

they sneak into his jacket pocket!

and...... steal his.... car keys? “YES. to the television station!”

✨

this isn’t even the first vehicle he’s stolen. hopefully he’ll have this one back by curfew as well.)

they do get pulled over by the police, but i don’t want to go into that. unless you guys reaaaallly want me to. instead, they park outside the studio and harass some poor receptionist.

“excuse me. we’re here to-- pitch. as they say. a sitcóm. my dear.”

i don’t know why brain says words like that.

“appointment?”

“oh, i’m sure you can--”

“work us in.” says brain. he is sticking his ass out for no reason. all the appeal is in his sparkly dentures, so.... there’s really no need for that, my dude.

✨

“you’re next! for no good reason!”

these dudes are still here. “wait!” yells our budding comedian, “wait! check out this idea. it’s about a guy!”

original.

“who always sticks his foot in his mouth!!”

clever. unfortunately, his demonstration goes wrong, and he ends up kicking mr kilmer in the face.

bonk.

gives him a nasty black eye to boot. ouch.

“ugh. can’t i ever just see someone normal?”

good thing these very normal individuals have just shown up, huh? nothing shady about these guys. “ugh, thank goodness,” says mr kilmer. they introduce themselves politely as jonathan michael charles (left) and jamal spelling (right).

“you guys have quite a look.”

“thank you.”

✨

“alright then. what do you got for me?”

“egad, brain.”

“he’s not adoring you for no good reason!!”

“drat.”

“well. we’re young hip adults--”

“and hijinks ensue!”

“who sit on a big fat couch and whine--”

“with disaaaasterous results!!”

“and have lots of generation x friends who trade zippy, sarcastic banter.”

“and i have a monkey.”

a very original concept.

at least, mr kilmer sems to think so. “hmmm. fresh. but tell me! what really brings you here. what are jamal and jonathan all about.”

“actually,  we are two lab mice involved in a broad and sweeping plan to take over the world.”

mr kilmer thinks this is hilarious, apparently.

these guys do not. but they’re not important, for the moment.

the long and short of it, anyway, is that kilmer can’t give them a sitcom because nobody knows who they are, quote unquote. “the day i see your face on the cover of peeple magazine is the day you get a sitcom.”

irritated, jamal and jonathan make their exit.

and mr kilmer laughs so hard at the idea of lab mice trying to take over the world, that he falls out of his chair.

this will become relevant later.

meanwhile -- i just had to screencap this, okay, because of brain’s face. pinky suggests that he get on the cover of peeple by marrying prince charles. and brain thinks this is a horrible idea.

he’s much more interested in princess diana. but no, pinky, the path he must follow is “the same one followed by the leading sitcom stars of the day.”

“i must become a SUCCESSFUL STANDUP COMEDIAN.”

“so hey, how about those mitochondria? do they have enough cilia or what?”

“hey, why don’t you tell a joke you know!”

this may be harder than brain thought. undeterred, though, he presses on.

“do you ever notice how when you’re looking in the mirror of a quadrant electrometre, your forehead seems large?? why is that??”

“i just flew in from cleveland! and boy are my upper extremeties fatigued by a buildup of lactic acid!”

“booooooooooooooo!” says our guy on the left.

“go back to your troll village, squirt!” says his friend on the right. “what do you say to that?”

“i find you repugnant.”

(well. that made them laugh, at least.)

“your stupidity is matched only by the ill-slipped caterpillar, that chews off its’ own wings after emerging from its’ cucoon!!!”

“in fact! all of you! are just a gaggle of pathetically misguided root diggers!!”

“why don’t you all stand under a stalactite and bellow the resonate frequency, causing it to plummet onto your cranium!!”

“you’re all repugnant i say!!! repugnant!!!”

and with that little mousie tantrum out of his system, brain trundles off to sulk.

pinky claps him on the way out.

“egad brain! narf! they love you!”

“yes.”

so then he goes on tv, i guess.

“our comedy challenger is the master of insults! the prince of putdowns! jamal spelling!”

“you’re all a bunch of crevulating nitwits with peat moss for a cortex. repugnant!”

i don’t envy that guy third from the right. he doesn’t look like he’s having a very good time. he’s sensitive about his peat moss cranium, okay? don’t make fun of him.

NEXT ON G, HOWIE TURN HOSTS COMEDIAN JAMAL SPELLING.

“so, uh, jamal spelling. what kind of stupid name is that? cmon? what’s your real name?”

this would be racist if jamal spelling was a human man comedian and not like, a lab mouse. thankfully, this is not the case.

“my real name is the brain.” says brain, helpfully enunciating the “the”. “and you, my unwashed friend, are repugnant.”

HA HA. HA HA HA HA HA.

“oh, you’re hot, baby.”

okay.

but we’re, uh. we’re not going to think about that, and we’re going to go look at the david letterman show instead.

“uh, my next guest-- paul, do you know who our next guest is?”

“daaaaave, i know he’s a beautiful kind of-- nutty cat who just got us all a-wow.”

“here he is, ladies and gentlemen! for your comedy dollar, jamal spelling!!”

jamal spelling appears to be naked.

but he’s funny, so nobody minds.

“somebody here smells like a coagulated agar slant growing in a petri dish. repugnant!”

see! he’s just too comedy for clothes.

(meanwhile, we take a short trip to the office of janet mekko. “welcome, mr kilmer,” she says.

“my... secretary sent me here-- actually, i feel kind of stupid.”

“oh, honey. that’s a good thing! if there weren’t any stupid people, i wouldn’t have any business.”

“now. ya got some paaaaaiiiiiiiiiiiiiin.”

(in the distance, dan reynolds - at the tender age of eight - mumbles “you made me a, you made me a believer” in his sleep.)

“yeah.” says mr kilmer, completely unaware of this. “i fell out of my chair.”

“i’m gonna hypnotise you, so relax.”

okay.

“this’ll make you sleepy.”

“what is it?”

“a kenny g album.”

“okay. you’re in a trance. i’m gonna give you a random word. if you feel pain, say that word, you’ll feel good.”

“but careful! cause if you say it when you’re feeling good, the pain will come back! bad.”

spooky.

“and your random word is--”

“repugnant.”

there is, of course, absolutely no way this can go wrong.)

let us turn our view to happier pastures. namely, the mice are watching tv.

TONIGHT ON CIRCUS OF THE STARS

HARRY DEAN ANDERSON GETS SHOT OUT OF A GIANT PASTA MAKER

COMEDIAN JAMAL SPELLING FLIES THE TRAPEZE

AND BOB SAGET GETS TRAMPLED BY A BEAR. we hope.

pinky is elated! “egad, brain! circus of the stars! narf! you’ve really made it!”

pinky wants to be on circus of the stars, don’t you know. unfortunately, as he dutifully informs brain in pretty much the same breath, he hasn’t quite made it into peeple magazine yet.

“hm. it’s time to use plan b, pinky.”

“there was an a?? poit.”

ouch. jesus, pinky.

undeterred, brain marches his merry little ass over to the old timey corded phone.

beep.

“yes, connect me with buckinham palace, please.”

“egad! you did it brain! the cover of peeple!”

rule britannia is playing in the background of this scene. let’s... not think too hard about how this works, and agree that, yes, pauly shore, enough.

no more pauly shore, please.

conclusion:

jerry keeps his word, and, upon learning that jamal spelling is now legally married to princess diana (a fact which would certainly not lead to a warrant for his arrest in a couple of years) he asks him for a demo tape.

for such small hands, jamal sure does have very neat handwriting.

“make me laugh, jamal, and you got yourself a sitcom.”

“why don’t you all stand under a stalactite and bellow the resonate frequency, causing it to plummet onto your cranium!!”

he seems to like it! kilmer makes a little hee hee noise, unprepared for where this is undoubtedly going.

“you’re repungnant!”

“AAUGHGHGHHH.”

there it is.

“repugnant!”

“i say repugnant!”

repugnant repugnant repugnant repugnant

repugnant!

and with that, jerry kilmer falls out of the window.

as he does, he yells “i’ll get you, jamal spelling” which personally i think is unfair. jamal couldn’t have known, surely? don’t be mean to jamal. he’s got a lot on his mind, what with that restraining order against howie turn.

meanwhile, in the lab, the mice debate a good pitch for a pilot (i’ve got it, brain! it’s a show about nothing!) when jamal spelling gets a call.

“hi jamal! this is nina from the tv station. could you come down for a meeting?”

“mm hmmm.”

✨

it’s the WB.

as nina types away, jamal and jonathan enter casually, like this is their house, or something. “are you pleased to see us?” asks jamal, in a cocky, egomaniac labmouse sort of way.”

“yes i am!”

(nina somehow doesn’t notice.)

anyway then these guys find the dentures and pitch the first idea that comes into their heads.

“hey cortex! what do you wanna do tonight?”

don’t ask why mouse dentures fit a human man. we suspend our disbelief here.

(also there was no way this was brain’s fault. he couldn’t have known. outside influence it is. a shame, really.)

brain: 7 pinky: 7 outside influence: 14

thanks for the fun meme, @shuunthenonbeliever​ !

[reservethesun]

#proective!tharn just type ☺️☺️☺️☺️ ( with angst or something that’s all I want lol)

Thank you so much for the request. :3 I hope you like it!!

Read it on ao3, or below the cut!

pairing: tharntypeverse: tharntyperating: m (rating just because of the warnings)prompt:  protective!tharn with typewarnings: for attempted assault and mentions of past rapesummary: Type loved as fiercely as he hated and many learned the hard way not to be on the wrong side of that fierceness. What people tended to forget was that while Type was protective of those he cared about, Tharn was just as protective of Type. Or two moments where Tharn was protective of his boyfriend.

hold me tight

The First

Everyone knew that Type was a hothead. People who didn’t even really know Type were aware of it. They knew that his anger could get the best of him, most especially when someone he cared about was being threatened or hurt. While he could let it build until he snapped when it came to his own mistreatment, the moment he felt someone he cared about was being slighted in some way, he was ready to fight. There were rumors of how Type had taken a beating and tricked and manipulated someone in order to protect one of the people he cared about. He loved as fiercely as he hated and many learned the hard way not to be on the wrong side of that fierceness.

What people tended to forget was that while Type was protective of those he cared about, Tharn was just as protective of Type. He showed it almost every day in small ways. He was more gentle with his protectiveness. Making sure that Type ate or got enough sleep or took an umbrella when it was raining out. He would hold Type when the nightmares came back or grab a cool washcloth when he was ill. He made sure that Type felt comfortable and safe around him, like he could let down his walls and be vulnerable in a way he couldn't be with the rest of the world. It was a quieter, softer sense of protectiveness, but it was there just the same. Because of all of that, people often forgot that Tharn could be just as explosive when it came to protecting Type.

He knew that Type could take care of himself. He'd witnessed it first hand on more than one occasion. He could stand up to anyone about anything. There was just one exception. His father. Type stood there silently as his dad continued to insist that Type was making a mistake in choosing to be with Tharn. He never outright insulted Tharn - he'd strayed from that after Type had gotten defensive and basically told his father to shove it. In a slightly more polite manner, but the effectiveness was still the same. This visit, it seemed, the man was trying a new tactic - making it seem as though it was Type's shortcomings that had led to their unacceptable relationship. Tharn could feel himself becoming more tense with every word as he watched the way Type’s jaw tightened and his fists clenched at his side. He stood next to Type, facing his boyfriend instead of the man in front of them. “That is enough,” Tharn finally said, his voice stern enough that it almost startled himself. It broke through Type's father's words.

“Excuse me?” the man replied, stumbling over the two words and looking as though he was about to threaten Tharn with the machete again.

“You can say anything you want to say about me.” Type started to protest that, but Tharn just took a hold of Type's hand and cut him off with a gentle kiss that left his father bristling. “But you cannot continue to stand there and say these things to him. Type looks up to you more than anyone else in the world and if you continue to disrespect him like this, I'm going to insist that he stop trying to come out here and see you.” He didn't like telling Type what to do, outside the bedroom anyway, but he knew that he could get Type to do what he wanted if he pressed the subject enough. “Do you not realize how difficult it was for him to bring me here in the first place? How much this reaction of yours was something that terrified him and now you're giving him reason to regret trying? The fact that he brought me here, introduced me to you despite knowing that you may not approve should tell you more about how serious he is - that we are - about this relationship.” After all, it said a lot that Type had brought him there in the first place. It spoke volumes to what Type felt for Tharn and how serious he was about their relationship being a long term commitment. “You don't have to like me, you don't even have to pretend to respect me - but I never want to hear you disrespect Type like this ever again.”

Type's father didn't seem to know what to say to any of that or the way that Type seemed to almost curl into Tharn's side as Tharn wrapped an arm around him, letting his hand curl into Type's hair as Type hid his face in Tharn's shoulder. It was the first time his father had ever seen his son looking as vulnerable since Type was much younger. And it was the first time that he felt something akin to respect for Tharn, seeing his willingness to protect that shown weakness.

The Second

Type waved Tharn off when he excused himself to find the bathroom, leaving Type there at the bar. Type took a drink out of his glass and leaned against the top of the bar. It wasn’t a night where Tharn was playing with his band. They were just there to have some fun and let off some steam. They’d danced together already before having approached the bar for drinks. Type had Tharn’s drink there on top of the bar while Tharn was away while he sipped on his own. When someone sidled up beside him, Type first thought it was Tharn and he turned to smirk at him with a comment of how little time it had taken him but it wasn’t Tharn. It was some stranger that was smirking at him and giving him a once over. It made Type sneer as he said, “What do you want?”

“Ooh, not very friendly,” the guy commented. It didn’t seem to deter him at all. If anything, it made the guy lean closer to Type as if he was even more interested. “I’m In.”

“Good for you. I’m here with my boyfriend.” Type just wanted the guy to go away. He didn’t like the way that the guy kept looking at him.

The guy glanced around before looking back at Type. “I don’t see anyone else here.”

“He’s-”

“Once dance.”

He placed his hand low on the small of Type’s back. Type tensed immediately, placing his glass on top of the bar almost too harshly. “Get your hand off of me.”

“Come on, sweetheart. We both came here for a little fun.”

Type wanted to shove the guy away from him, to punch him or kick him or something . He didn’t seem to be able to move, however, as the guy’s sickeningly sweet, coercive tone brought back memories he didn’t want to have. Type shook his head, even as the guy slid his hand from the small of Type’s back to his opposite hip, drawing Type in close to his chest. Type wasn’t sure why this guy was affecting him like he was. It wasn’t the first time he was being hit on by someone that he didn’t care for. He was known for fighting back, of telling off whoever it was that tried. This guy, it seemed, seemed to have shown up just in time for Type to have let down his guard just enough.

In a matter of seconds, Type found himself being bodily led toward the exit. He was pretty sure he told the guy to get off of him, but no one around seemed to be paying much attention. That was until Type found himself stumbling because suddenly the guy was being pulled away from him. “He told you to fuck off,” he heard Tharn say as Tharn placed himself between Type and the unknown guy. Type almost felt his knees give out as he grabbed the back of Tharn’s shirt and rested his forehead against the back of his shoulder while letting out a shaky breath.

Tharn might have hit the guy, Type wasn’t sure, but he knew that the stranger threw a punch at Tharn, who fought back for himself where Type usually would have jumped in. Type very reluctantly let go of Tharn’s shirt as his boyfriend moved forward while those around them started to realize what was happening and there was a slight quiet to the room as people actually paused to take notice. “Keep your hands off of my boyfriend,” Tharn insisted, as he seemed seconds away from punching the guy in the face again.

He spat at the ground near Tharn’s feet. “He seemed like too much of a bitch, anyway,” the guy commented, walking off while ignoring the bartender’s continued threats of calling the police in the background.

Type almost jumped when Tharn came up to him and seemed to be checking him over to make sure he wasn’t hurt at all with mumbled questions about if he was okay. Type nodded numbly and all but fell into Tharn’s arms when they wrapped around him to pull him close. He didn’t argue in the slightest when Tharn insisted they go home and he let Tharn lead him out of the place to where Tharn had parked the car earlier. Type mentally kicked himself the entire time for having reacted like he had. He should have been able to defend himself without Tharn stepping in. He should have been able to take care of that asshole on his own.

But he guessed, as he let Tharn help him into the car and fret over him silently (he held Type’s hand as Type got into the passenger seat and then ducked into the car to do the seatbelt for him before he brushed Type’s hair away from his face and ran his thumb over the crease that formed between his brows), that he guessed he was glad that he didn’t need to.

[doodlelolly0910]

Once Upon a Christmas Eve

A/N: Merry Christmas @princesswan I was your Secret Santa this year! I hope you like this little piece I've put together for you and I hope it posts correctly (I've never queued anything before lol). Thanks to @cssecretsanta2k18 for putting together such an awesome event!

*This is unbeta'd and any mistakes are my own*

“It started with a kiss.

Well, to be most accurate, it started a bit before that, as many fairytales do.

Let's just start from the beginning, shall we?

Once upon a time, there was a boy. A man, really. And the man, while devilishly handsome, was very lonely.

Now, the man was very fortunate and he had many friends. He had a job he loved working on a great ship, an older brother who he was very close with, but something was missing. Let's call the man Killian.

It was the start of the Christmas season, not so very long ago, and Killian was feeling especially low. He had just broken off his engagement with a woman who he thought he was very much in love with and, in complete honesty, he was feeling quite sorry for himself. So he decided to meet his friend at the local… tavern. Killian had been waiting for his friend to show up for almost an hour that cold winter’s night and he was beginning to get impatient. He had already drank far too much, er, eggnog that night and he was in a mood of sorts. Killian was sure his friend, the idiot Will Scarlett, had blown him off completely. So he sat alone and drank his eggnog in relative peace.

Killian was sure he was broadcasting his ill aura to all around him, souring the Christmas spirit in the air with his grinchiness, but, as it turned out, he was mistaken. He heard a voice from behind him.

‘Buy you another?’ it said and when Killian turned around, there was a beautiful blonde woman standing behind him. Now, Killian was no shy lad, but remember, he was intent on wallowing in his sorrows this particular evening and he was very much not interested in company. Unless, of course, Will bloody Scarlett had deigned to grace the tavern with his presence so Killian could give him a piece of his mind.

So he told the woman, ‘No, thank you, lass. I'm waiting on someone.’ But the woman was persistent, intent on getting Killian's attention.

‘You have an accent! English?’ she asked in her own accent, Australian, perhaps, but that's inconsequential. Killian was trying to be polite, but he had little patience for anyone that evening. Nevertheless, he was a gentleman, and a gentleman mustn't be rude to a fair lady if he can avoid it.

‘Aye,’ he told her, because he had come from England with his brother, Liam, Scarlett, and his former fiancée about ten years before because the ship of his dreams had gone up for sale in a city called Boston, but he didn't have the money to buy the ship and have it brought to England. So he came to it instead.

‘You're cute,’ the woman told him shamelessly, placing her hand on his arm. ‘Are you sure you don't want another drink?’

Killian looked at the woman again. He could feel how fake his smile was but he just couldn't bring himself to be any friendlier to the poor girl in his sorry state.

‘I'm quite sure, love, thank you,’ he said. ‘I'm still working on this one and, as I said, I'm waiting for someone.’

The woman looked undeterred, perhaps having had too much eggnog herself that evening, and she moved closer to him. ‘You've been alone all night, I don't think she's coming,’ she told him and Killian was beginning to get very uncomfortable. He began looking around the tavern for exits he could possibly make his escape through when a hand landed on his opposite arm.

‘There you are,’ a new melodic voice said and when Killian turned, he found himself stunned into speechlessness, for surely he was now in the presence of an angel.

There before him stood the most beautiful creature he had ever encountered. Her long blonde hair fell in golden curls over her shoulders, hiding the buttons of the form fitting red sweater she wore. She had green eyes, the kind that sparkled with mischief, but were also deep and soulful, like she'd lived a much harder life than most but came out a stronger person on the other side. She was cool and confident, exuding a radiant inner beauty that was only matched by her breathtaking external features. Killian had never in his life seen a more lovely lass than she.

‘I've been looking all over for you,’ she said, her hand wandering up Killian's shoulder as she tucked herself into his side. He was absolutely gobsmacked, be it from her presence or the ru- er, eggnog he'd been drinking, he'd never know, but that didn't stop him from racking his fuzzy brain trying to remember why she might have sought him out. ‘Who's this?’ she asked, nodding her dimpled chin to his other side and suddenly Killian remembered the other woman.

She was a pretty, spritely thing, but she couldn't hold a candle to the angel. The first woman, Killian had noticed, was now upset, but refusing to relinquish her hold on his arm, despite the angel's clear claim being staked.

‘I'm the one who kept him company while he was sitting up here all by himself,’ the woman said, quite nastily. The angel was unperturbed, her hand finding the back of his neck, and he was unashamed to say the simple touch gave him goosebumps.

‘Well, thanks for keeping my boyfriend company, I appreciate it. Can we buy you a drink?’ the angel asked and put her arms around Killian's shoulder, clearly staking her claim. He shrugged and played along with his savior. He allowed himself to touch her for the first time and slipped his own arm around her waist. It felt right, having her in his arms. Like she just fit there.

‘He never mentioned a girlfriend,’ the other woman said.

‘Well, here I am,’ the angel replied. ‘And we are going to go find a table, if you didn't need anything else.’ She grasped the hand Killian had on her waist in her own and began to pull him away. The other woman tugged on his other arm and held him in place. The look that came over his savior’s face, one of challenge and dark amusement, was one he would never forget.

Before Killian even knew what was happening, the blonde avenger had seized Killian by the collar of his jacket and her lips met his. He felt like he'd come alive again, months of heartache melting away as she kissed him. He couldn't help but to kiss her back, completely giving in to the spark that had ignited between them. Beneath the kiss itself, which was earth shaking enough as it was, a glimmer of hope rekindled in his soul.

Killian didn't notice, being too enraptured by his savior angel and their kiss, but the other woman had left without another word. The angel pulled away from him and gave him a beautiful smile, then patted him on the shoulder.

‘You looked really uncomfortable,’ she told him. ‘Sorry if I overstepped.’

Killian was surprised by her apology, having thought his gratefulness had been written all over his face. He needed to let the angel know he appreciated her.

So he told her, ‘Not at all. I wasn't amenable to company this evening and she wasn't getting the hint, clearly. I'm just fortunate that you came along to save me.’

She smiled at Killian again, a dazzling smile that lit up her gorgeous green eyes from within. He couldn't believe how beautiful she was and he thought for a moment the eggnog might have had him hallucinating.

‘You're welcome, then,’ the angel replied. ‘I better get back to my friends, but it was nice to meet you…’

‘Killian,’ he filled in for her. ‘Killian Jones.’

She nodded, that lustrous curtain of golden curls moving with her.

‘Well, Killian Jones, I hope you have a good rest of your night.’ And with that, she turned to walk away. Killian wasn't quite ready for her to go yet. In complete honesty, he wouldn't have minded if she never left his side, which was a silly thought to have about someone you've just met, but he couldn't help himself. So he called out to her.

‘Am I worthy to know the name of my savior?’ he asked. The angel looked over her shoulder as she walked away and said but two simple words that would change his life forever.

‘Emma Swan.’

Killian was sure he was grinning like a fool at just the sound of her lovely name as he cashed out his tab with the bar keep, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

That night, he was absently thumbing through his Facebook app when a friend request came through from a name he didn't recognize. Someone called Ruby Lucas. As one should always be wary of these kinds of things, he didn't accept right away. Instead, he went to do some investigating to try and figure out who this strange woman was that sent him a request.

He went to her page and looked at her profile picture to see if he recognized the lass, but he didn't. She was very pretty, long brown hair, a little too much makeup, but Killian couldn't place her. So he swiped through a few more of her pictures. When he got to about the third or fourth picture, he was shocked to see a face he did recognize staring back at him.

There, in the middle of a group picture that seemed to have taken place at some sort of hen party, was Emma, the angel. He could hardly believe his luck. He scrolled back up and selected the accept button on the friend request, and he absolutely did not drop his phone in his haste. Killian Jones is a calm, collected, rational man.

No sooner had he accepted the request did a message come through, an eloquent ‘hey there’’ blinking at him from the screen. He replied with a ‘hello’ of his own. Ruby asked him if he'd been in the tavern that evening and Killian confirmed he had been. Ruby then replied with just one more thing and promptly logged off. The message said: ‘Rabbit Hole, 12/24, 7:00 PM. Emma will be there. You should come.’

Killian was completely taken aback by this turn of events, but he could only jump at the chance to see the angel again, so he made sure his schedule was clear. He wasn't due at his brothers until Christmas Day, fortunately and that left him wide open for whatever it was that Ruby had requested him for.

The night of the Christmas Eve came and Killian was very nervous. He had changed clothes at least a dozen times and checked the clock at least a dozen more. After he was finally satisfied that he had stalled enough, he made it to the tavern in record time. As not to seem too eager, he decided to sit in the car until 7:00 rolled around.

Now, Killian could definitely say he knew his way around a woman, but Emma had thrown him off so completely that he started having doubts about himself, not that he would let her or anyone know that. When Emma kissed him, it had thrown his world off kilter, but what if she didn't feel the same? What if it was just a kiss to her? What if she was upset that he was there again? As he sat contemplating the situation in his car, a soft tap sounded at the window. Killian looked up and was rendered immediately speechless, a novelty for him, to be certain. There staring at him through the thin separation of the window glass, a gorgeous, albeit laughing, smile on her lips, was Emma.

Killian smiled back, opening the car door and getting out of it immediately. He didn't know what to do or say, but that didn't stop an outlandishly flirtatious ‘hello, love’ falling from his lips. From across the car park, a woman that Killian recognized from her Facebook picture as none other than Ruby Lucas called out some slightly inappropriate encouragement to her friend.

‘So, you're the surprise,’ Emma told him and it took Killian a minute longer than he would have liked to admit to catch her meaning. It wasn't his fault that the second he turned back to look at Emma he was lost in her sparkling, jade colored eyes. It was an eventuality that he’d lose his head around her at some point during the evening.

‘I suppose I am,’ he replied when he had gotten his train of thought back on track. ‘It is lovely to see you again, Emma.’

‘It's nice to see you, too, Killian Jones.’

Killian had a very vivid memory of the night he met her, and he may or may not have looked at the pictures on Ruby's page a time or two in the days since her friend request, but Killian was still struck by Emma's beauty. Snow had begun to fall around them, and with the backdrop of the street lights behind her, she truly looked every inch the angel he initially had thought her to be.

‘You look stunning, love,’ he told her.

‘Thanks,’ she replied in her simplistic way. ‘You look…’

‘I know,’ he said cheekily when she fumbled for a compliment of her own. Her eyes narrowed at him but the corner of her mouth was lifted in amusement. Killian took that as a good sign. ‘Did you want to go inside?’ he asked, not wanting her to stand out in the cold longer than necessary. She agreed and they walked in together.

Once they made it through the door, Emma was greeted by a large group of people. The tavern was decorated in reds and greens, twinkling lights strung all around in the festive spirit of the upcoming holiday. Emma quickly introduced Killian to her friends and her brother, who was only just a tad overprotective of her. Killian has grown on him quite a bit since then, but that's another story for another time.

Killian didn't feel out of place once during the whole evening thanks to Emma. She was guarded, to be certain, but there was an underlying level of comfort amongst her friends that extended to Killian as well. He could tell right away that this was not a courtesy that was extended to many, and it made his heart swell with gratitude and he was just that much more enamored of her.

The activity in the tavern had dwindled down close to midnight and Emma's very merry brother, David, should have been cut off several… eggnogs before he was. But that didn't stop him from threatening Killian as his lovely wife tried to wrestle him out the door.

‘She likes you, Jones,’ he said. ‘And I'll admit you've grown on me, too. But if you hurt her I'm gonna have to declare a duel for her honor, sir. Don't you forget it.’ Killian would have been infinitely amused by the man's threats if he wasn't so elated at his revelation. Emma liked him. And it was all he could have wished for. He spotted Emma from across the floor as she stood bidding farewell to the infamous Ruby Lucas. Their eyes locked from across the room and Killian knew he was done for.

She smiled. He smiled back. Ruby laughed out loud and said something to Emma that made her turn several different shades of red. Killian's feet began to carry him across the room of their own volition. He had tunnel vision on Emma, his angel savior, and he vaguely heard something along the lines of ‘go get ‘er, tiger,’ as Ruby walked past. Before he knew it, he was standing in front of her again.

‘Hi,’ she said.

‘Hello, love,’ he said back.

Emma looked up towards the ceiling and Killian followed her gaze. There hanging from an exposed beam was a sprig of mistletoe. Now, if grown men got butterflies, Killian may have had a swarm of them in his stomach, but he would liken what he felt in that moment closer to a school of particularly violent fish swimming in his belly.

‘Merry Christmas, Killian,’ she whispered, her green eyes bright and so full of hope.

‘Merry Christmas, Emma,’ he replied, and took full advantage of the mistletoe tradition. This kiss was much gentler than the first, but no less life changing. The world began and ended with Emma in that moment and he knew that he needed to know her better, wanted her to stay in his life as long as he could keep her. When they broke away from one another, Emma's beautiful eyes fluttered open and Killian couldn't help the smile that was surely plastered all over his face.

‘Do you want to go get some coffee sometime?’ Emma asked. Killian couldn't agree fast enough. Little did either of them know when they walked into the Rabbit Hole that evening that they would be taking the first step towards their happy ever after.”

A soft gurgle and a coo sounded from the small bundle wrapped in Killian's arms. He smiled, his heart full to bursting, and he ran a knuckle over his newborn daughter's ruddy cheek. The babe yawned and squirmed before settling once more.

“A fairytale, huh?” a voice said from behind him. Killian turned to look at his wife with a grin. Emma was propped up on a mountain of pillows in the hospital bed where she lay, tired but happier than he'd ever seen her. Her hair was knotted in a messy bun on top of her head, her body clad in the standard green hospital gown, tubes sticking out of both arms, and she had never looked more radiant. His love for her had seemed to grow unendingly throughout the entire day, and this moment was no exception.

“Aye, love. My favorite fairytale and my second favorite Christmas Eve. I think this one tops it easily, but that day is a very close second,” Killian agreed. Emma hummed a sigh, her eyes fluttering closed once more and a soft smile on her lips.

“‘Snot the 24th anymore, though,” she said on a yawn. Killian glanced at the clock and saw it was after 1:00 in the morning. He chuckled and walked gingerly to her bedside so as not to jostle the infant in his arms and leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead.

“Happy Christmas, my darling. I love you both so very much.”