#ah yes time for my annual sappy post

[minpage]

Thank you all for sticking with me this year❤️I know I say it every time, but I’m constantly blown away by all the love and support. When I started posting things online I expected it to be seen by maybe five, ten people, and it’s still insane to me that you guys like it enough to stick around. Even if I can’t always reply, I read every comment and tag and see every like, and they always make me smile. I really couldn’t be more grateful.

Thank you, thank you, thank you.

I hope 2025 treats you kindly❤️

[john-wickening]

A Treat

AN: So this little ditty is based off my head canon post. It’s more sappy stuff whoops. One day, I’ll write something that isn’t tooth rotting fluff lol. Hope y’all enjoy ^_^. 

You get busy at work, which prevents you from celebrating Halloween like you’d want to. John has a trick up his sleeve.

TW: mention of someone committing sexual assault (not shown, just mentioned) Some mild swearing

Word count: 1842

 *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

When the phone rang and the obnoxiously bubbly ringtone filled the room, you couldn’t help but groan.

It was your boss calling.

John looked up from the book he was working on and you stuck your lower lip out in a pout. The corner of his mouth twitched in response.

Work had been an absolute nightmare lately and you knew deep down in your gut that this wasn’t going to be a great phone call.

“Hey Rob,” you huffed as you picked up the phone. You couldn’t conceal the disappointment leaking into your voice.

Rob was a gruff man. He cut right to the chase.

“I have another assignment for you.” You heaved a sigh and bit your lip. Of course he did. You stood up and crossed the room to your desk. Your laptop whirred to life when you opened the lid.

“Sure Rob. Hit me with it,” your laptop was moving glacially slow, but eventually it booted up.

“I’ve emailed you the details. Your deadline is the 31st,” he stated and you felt a pang of annoyance shoot through you.

“Halloween, Rob? Really?” you groaned “You know that’s my favorite holiday,”

“You agreed to this, chickadee,” he bit out gruffly and you had to grit your teeth together to keep from snapping at him for the asinine pet name. “You’re freelance for a reason.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure,” you grumbled in reply. You could hear the click of the receiver as he hung up. You rolled your eyes and tossed your phone down onto the table.

Asshole.

You pulled up your email and logged in. His lengthy message was in the top of your inbox. You chewed the corner of your thumbnail as you scanned over the details of the case.

“What’s he got you doing this time?” You were engrossed so deeply and John’s voice was so sudden in the silent room that you actually jumped a little. When you looked up at him, you could see amusement crinkling the corners of his eyes.

“Investment banker,” You replied. “He’s got me checking up on this guy, making sure his personal life is tip top.” You kept it intentionally vague. John could be a little… overprotective when he knew all the details. Knowing that this guy was a convicted rapist and had served time for beating his child would definitely not fly so well with John. He’d insist on coming with you and that made everything ten times more complicated.

John nodded and turned back to his book.

You watched him for a moment, admiring the way his thick, scarred fingers worked at the binding. You couldn’t help the warmth that spread through your chest watching your fiancée skillfully thread the pages.

You turned back to your work with a smile on your face, which unfortunately faded fast.

The details on this man were troubling to say the least. Three convictions for sexual assault, 2 years in East Jersey State. His money bought him a slap on the wrist, basically. You frowned and shook your head in disgust. The justice system was a farce. You found yourself falling down the rabbit hole looking into this dickhead. You were so enthralled with the information that John yet again managed to scare you.

“Guess that means you finally have to leave the dog alone,” he muttered after a few minutes. You brought a hand to your chest to try to slow down your heart and shot him a glare.

“Meatball likes it,” you retorted indignantly. John snorted

“No he doesn’t,” he replied without looking up from his work. You rolled your eyes at him.

“Yes he does,” You replied. “He was dashing in his devil costume last year, thank you very much,” John chuckled quietly and you found yourself smiling.

“You’re obsessed,” he stated flatly and you narrowed your eyes at him.

“You love it,” you teased and he smirked but didn’t reply. A comfortable silence passed between you.

“I’ll find the time to dress Meatball up, don’t you worry” you said after a minute though your heart wasn’t in it. The case Rob had thrown at you was very involved. Halloween was in two weeks and this was a job that would normally take three weeks or more. You looked over at the spiderwebs wrapped up the banister and sighed. You were glad that you had at least been proactive on decorating the house.

It’s September 21st, why are you decorating already? This is earlier than last year, John grumbled as he watched you flit about the house. It already looked like the Halloween store had exploded in here.

Have you met me, John? You teased as you clipped a small plastic skeleton to the ceiling fan.

He just rolled his eyes but you didn’t miss the smirk creeping across his face as he turned away. He had always expressed his indifference for the holiday and frankly, he often teased you lightly for your minor obsession. But he never stopped you or outright discouraged your enthusiasm, and for that you were thankful

You just hoped you’d be able to get enough done on the case to at least have your annual movie night

 *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Two weeks later, you slapped the file down on Rob’s desk with a triumphant smirk

“I really think you were trying to test me on this one, Rob,” you said cockily. “Here’s everything you need to know about the bastard,”

The older man flipped through the file with piercing eyes. After a moment, he set it down and grinned.

“Good work, kid.” You bit the inside of your cheek. You hated being called kid. To be honest, you hated every stupid pet name the man called you, but this job paid well so you held your tongue.

The man looked up at you and scratched his wiry gray beard in thought.

“To be honest, I didn’t think you were going to be able to do it in time,” he said and you felt a twinge of annoyance.

“Well then, you underestimated me,” the words leaked out before you could stop them.

The man let out a bark of laughter and you felt your stomach clench uneasily.

“I suppose I did,” he admitted amicably and the knot in your stomach uncoiled. From the drawer of his desk, he produced a thick envelope.

There it was.

“Here’s your pay, plus a little bonus for putting in the hard work at such a busy time,” he replied and passed the envelope to you. You took it but didn’t check the contents. The man had a peculiar affect and checking the amount would most likely upset him.

“Thank you, sir,” He nodded and turned his back on you, indicating that the conversation was over.

Not the most socially graceful dude, thought dryly to yourself as you stuffed the envelope into your bag.  Didn’t matter, though. Money was money. You left his office in a hurry.

By the time you got home to John, it was around 7 pm and it was just getting dark. You grinned when you noticed he had remembered to turn on the decorations on the lawn.

“John? I’m home,” you called as you walked through the front door. The house smelled strongly of pumpkin spice and you found yourself grinning.

From the other room came the skittering of paws on the floor and Meatball’s deep throaty bark of excitement. The noise almost entirely drowned out John’s response.

The skittering got closer and when Meatball eventually rounded the corner, you gasped.

“John you did not!” you cried out giddily as you laid eyes on the dog.

You don’t know what you loved more—the yellow and black jumper complete with a ‘stinger’ covering the dog’s tail, or the headband that wiggled wildly with every movement.

John had dressed Meatball up as a bee for Halloween and it was the cutest costume you’d ever seen in your entire life.

“Oh Meatball you look so good!” you cooed happily as you dropped to the floor to greet the dog. His little face lit up at your voice and the tail wag became a body wag. The puppy kisses were plentiful.

When John finally rounded the corner, you couldn’t help but grin up at him.

“Meatball hates it, huh?” you replied smugly from your spot on the floor. Meatball had crawled fully into your lap and was lapping at your chin.

John shot you a glare but his heart wasn’t in it. It was then that you noticed there was a white feather tangled in his hair.

“John… what’s in your hair?” you giggled. He stared blankly at you. You stood, crossed the room, and plucked it out and showed it to him.

He looked slightly sheepish.

“Ah… you’ll see,” he said. You grinned up at him and pressed a kiss to his lips.

“Thanks for dressing Meatball up,” you mumbled as you broke away. His smile was soft. He pressed another kiss to your lips.

“Follow me,” he said, taking your hand and pulling you into your living room. When you saw what was waiting for you, you almost shrieked in delight.

It was absolutely perfect. He had set out your regular Halloween spread, complete with your favorite bottle of red wine and rice crispy treats shaped like pumpkins. The television was cued up for a movie marathon. After a second you noticed that resting on the couch was a small set of bird’s wings and a headband of feathers, both clearly homemade.

You raised an eyebrow at him.

“The birds and the bees, John?” the corner of his lips quirked up and he snaked a hand around your waist.

“I figured you’d appreciate it,” he replied simply and placed a kiss on your cheek.

For a second, you had to blink hard and steel yourself to keep your watery eyes from running over. He had clearly put a lot of effort into this despite his indifference about the holiday. The emotion that hit you was almost overwhelming.

“Thank you, John,” you breathed. You wrapped your arms around his neck and melted into him. His eyes were soft as he looked down on you.

“You’re welcome, love,” he replied.

The kiss he gave you was slow, passionate, and absolutely toe curling. It took your breath away. His stubbly beard scraped against your cheek as he deepened the kiss. You gripped his shoulders harder to keep your knees from giving out. Kissing him was like visiting the gates of heaven. You could have gotten lost in that kiss forever.

Eventually, he broke it. You sighed breathlessly and pressed your forehead to his.

“Which movie?” he asked quietly, his voice a little strained. You smiled, knowing it was a pointless question.

“Hocus Pocus, of course,” you replied, intertwining your fingers with his. “But first…”

You tugged at his hand and he started to follow you.

“There’s something we should take care of before the trick-or-treaters show up...” you cooed demurely as you pulled him past the couch and towards your shared room.

The smile on John’s face was intoxicating.

It was truly going to be a perfect night.

[dracoqueen22]

[CR] Many Returns

Title: Many Returns Universe: Critical Role, Campaign One, Post-Canon Characters: Percy/Vex Rating: K+ Description: Grief is a process, and even years into the future, reminders of loss still rear their annual head.

Percy isn’t sure what wakes him. It’s been many years since there’s been a crisis that requires his attention, and while he’s attuned to the cries of his children, they are old enough now not to need Mummy or Daddy to rush to their bedside. He blinks into the dim, gropes for his glasses, and perches them on his nose. He rolls over and pats an empty mattress, bedding rumpled and tossed aside. Ah. That explains it.

He fights off a yawn and rolls out of bed, pulling a robe over his shoulders, dragging fingers through hair in need of a trim. His limbs ache, his knees protest. He’s in his early forties but feels much older. It’s all that adventuring and battling, he believes. It’s aged him. It's early. Or late, depending on one's point of view. Percy doesn't have to check his pocketwatch to know he'll have to be up in a few hours for a meeting with the diplomats from Emon in Cassandra's absence. It's past time his little sister has taken a vacation and while Percy loathes the responsibilities her absence gives him, he's proud of her for taking some time for herself. Even if she's not alone. Though that's another matter entirely. Percy tightens the ties around his waist in deference to the chill of spring in Whitestone, and ventures to the balcony, starting his hunt for Vex there. He's lucky. He finds her on the first try. She stands at the railing, shoulders hunched, hands braced on the carved stone, her robe fluttering around her bare legs in the soft breeze. Her hair is loose around her shoulders, still a vibrant brown, no sign of age on her yet. Percy is thankful for his premature pale hair. It disguises the fact he'll be going gray much sooner than Vex'ahlia. He's a vain creature, and he knows it. Part of the onus of nobility, he supposes. It's quite dark, as Vex has no need for light, but there's enough illumination from the moon Percy can pick out her form easily enough. The woods are dark blotches, and the flicker of moving torchlight on the ramparts announce patrolling guards, meandering their route. Percy approaches on silent, bare feet, though he has little doubt his wife knows he's there. He slides his arms around her, and she doesn't stiffen or elbow him in the sternum, so he'd been correct in his assumptions. "Is there any use in asking you to come back to bed?" Percy asks as he tucks his chin over her shoulder, her body chilled compared to the warmth of his own. Vex sighs and leans back into his embrace. "You know what today is." "Yes." "Then you know the answer to the question." Percy presses a warm kiss to the curve of Vex's neck and shoulder, not to entice but to comfort. "Then I'll stay up with you." "We have that meeting in a few hours. You know how cranky you get if you don't get a full night's sleep," Vex says. Percy snorts a laugh and presses the tip of his chilled nose to the back of her shoulder, making her flinch away from him. "I remember a time I fought a dragon on only a few hour's rest." "That was a long time ago, Percival." "Oh, no. Have I offended?" Vex folds her arms over his, resting her weight into his, and it's a victory Percy counts for himself, smug to his core. "I love you," she says, and Percy's heart flutters. It's a truth they both know, but rarely say, because these words are fragile, and they are both accustomed to losing the things and the people they love. But today, of all days, they are words which must be spoken. "Whatever you need, ask and I'll get it for you," Percy says. "I know." Her head tilts back against his. "I thought it would be easier, the more time passes, but if anything, it's just getting harder." Percy keeps his silence, lets her speak, voice her grief, because he doesn't want to offer empty platitudes. They are no comfort. They hadn't been for him, and they won't be for her. Percy is lucky; he still has Cassandra, but all Vex has left is her chosen family, and the one she's made with Percy. He doesn't count Syldor though the times Velora comes to stay with them are some of the few moments Percy sees the light of siblinghood glow in Vex's eyes. Velora is so much like both twins it is eerie, and she's as mischievous as Vax, down to the core. Still. She's not around often enough. She is yet young to be allowed free rein, and Syldor keeps her close to his breast. If he ever grieved for Vax, Percy hasn't seen it, but then, perhaps it has shown itself in his over-protective behavior toward Velora especially knowing how close he came to losing her to Vecna. Vex shudders in his arms and lifts a hand, wiping at her eyes. "I should be out of tears by now," she says with a shaky laugh. "But I miss him so much." "It's all right to miss him," Percy murmurs, his own heart aching with the grief of his lost family. Living in Whitestone, surrounded by the echoing memories, that's been his own burden to bear, and Cassandra remains a painful reminder as much as he loves her dearly. "There's so much I want to tell him. He's never met his nieces and nephews or enjoyed a time of peace." Vex draws in a long, slow breath as if trying to get herself under control. "I'm pregnant, you know. He'll never meet this one either." Pregnant again? That's wonderful news. Percy frees a hand to stroke her belly, where indeed there is the smallest of rise. Vex has softened over the years, much like he has, though she's kept in shape much better than he. She still runs in the forest, spends hours shooting her bow, and hunting when the need arises. Dangers never stalk too close to Whitestone, for Vex is quick to put an end to them, often with Jarett's assistance. Percy sticks close to home. He doesn't have the yearn for adventuring as much as she does. Occasionally he joins her, when he feels the need to make sure he's not out of practice, but he's slower than he used to be, and the remnants of Orthax abandoned him years ago. "I love you," Percy says into the heavy silence. It's all he has to offer. "And I'm happy for another child. I know there is nothing that can replace Vax, but whatever you need of me, I'm here." "I know." Vex sighs and turns in his arms, drawing him into a chaste kiss before pressing their foreheads together, tears a drying damp at the corner of her eyes. "Let's go back to bed. It's fucking cold out here." "I don't know. My feet may be frozen to the stone," Percy says. Vex rolls her eyes, amusement dancing in them, chasing away the dark clouds of grief. "Then I guess I'll have to leave you out here, the great Lord de Rolo, a frozen monument to his people, too bad he's only wearing these silly robes." "You are ruthless," Percy says, and he sweeps some hair out of her eyes, tucking it back behind her ears. "It's one of your more charming qualities." Vex snorts and grabs his hand, tugging him back indoors and to the warmth of their bedroom, the flaps of her robe occasionally offering peeks at tanned, scarred skin. "Only you would think so." Percy lets himself be tugged, as bed is right where he wants to be, especially now that Vex is returning to it. Sappy as it might sound, he's not accustomed to sleeping without her at his side. Vex shucks her robe, leaving her wearing only an immodest shift which clings to her curves and is far too thin to offer any measure of warmth. She's quick to climb beneath the thick blankets, and Percy is even quicker to join her, remembering at the last moment to remove his glasses and place them on the bedside table. They curl together, bodies cold but the blankets having retained most of the warmth in their absence. Vex pillows her head on Percy's chest, and he cards his fingers through her hair, something which has never failed to soothe in the past. "I know it feels otherwise," Percy murmurs. "But happy birthday, Vex'ahlia. I, for one, am glad you are here, and I know our children feel the same way. You didn't hear it from me, but I have a sneaking suspicion there is a surprise in your future." Vex chuckles, though it is a strained sound, one choked by withheld tears. "I'll pretend to be shocked." She toys with the buttons on his nightshirt, recently mended. "Thank you, Percy. I promise to be better tomorrow." "It's okay if you're not." Vex hums wordless and settles against his chest, her breathing a bit stuttered, and Percy choosing not to comment on it. His nightshirt will be damp by the time they have to rise, but it'll be a sacrifice to a worthy cause. It is a gift, to be trusted with this vulnerability, and Percy would never waste such a show of trust. Besides, Vex is back in the bed with him, and though they only have a few precious hours before the council meeting, Percy is going to enjoy every minute of them.

***

a/n: Still flexing my writing fingers for campaign one, but I really do love Percy and Vex together and will probably write more for them. 

Feedback is very welcome! 

[let-it-raines]

Betting on the Bullseye (16/?)

Summary: Emma Swan loses a bet that means she has to ask her celebrity crush to be her date to her office’s annual fundraising gala. Killian Jones is that celebrity crush. She expects all kinds of humiliation and for her dignity to be completely lost. What she doesn’t expect is for him to say yes.

Rating: Mature

A/N: I didn’t have to edit, Nonnie, so sometime this weekend turns out to be Friday night! Happy weekend, you guys!

AO3: Beginning | Current 

Tumblr: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 

Tag list: @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @wellhellotragic​ @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @captainsjedi @teamhook @skyewardolicitycloisdelena91 @artistic-writer @branlovesouat @dreadpirateemma @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog @galaxyzxstark @lifeinahole27 @andiirivera @ultimiflos @hollyethecurious @thejollyroger-writer @superchocovian @cs-forlife @qualitycoffeethings

Over the course of June, Killian’s sure that he flies between Los Angeles and Boston more times than any other passenger. He’s not really working consistently while Emma is, so he’s constantly loading up on a plane, racking up miles every time just to spend a day or two in Boston before he’s flying back for a meeting or a pre-made appointment. Sometimes he has to simply show up an event, let people see him wearing clothes, and then he can leave. He thinks those are his least favorite, but as much as acting is his job, that is too.

Sometimes he really wonders about his life. It’s definitely not normal. He knows that, but he’s honestly used to it. He was comfortable with it, but that was before he fell in love with a woman who lives three thousand miles away.

(Two thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine miles to be exact. He looked it up.)

Honestly, though, he’d spend his life on a plane just to be with her. Will calls him sappy (a sappy wanker actually), and while he might be, he doesn’t really care. It’s definitely worth it.

Emma is worth it.

Damn, okay, maybe he is sappy.

Of course, with his frequent flying and the few posts he’s made about Emma online, never showing her face or saying her name, the amount of pictures of him on the internet has increased drastically. With that, journalists and paparazzi have begun to investigate where he’s going, often finding him in Boston with Emma when they’re out to eat or running outside. Last week they went to the Red Sox game when they were playing the Yankees, bringing her friends with them, and he couldn’t even begin to count the amount of people that were waiting outside of the stadium when he left. What could possibly be so interesting about him walking out of a baseball game he’ll never know.

According to Robin, they’ve recognized Emma from their first date at the charity gala, and with every new picture that’s taken, there’s some other bogus article about them, the information supposedly coming from their close friends. Considering that everything about it is bullshit and that none of their friends would ever talk to a journalist, he’s not too concerned about it all. Really, everything is gossip, just articles that are made for clicks, and the only concerns he truly has about all of it is Emma and her well-being.

She seems to be fine, says that she’s fine, and is always telling him that she understood what she was getting into to a certain extent. It hasn’t been as bad as it once had been in the past, his lack of released projects likely helping with that, and he’s never been so thankful for not having worked as much as he usually does. She did say there were some photographers outside of her apartment last week, which isn’t a shock since they managed to find it the night of their first date, but that it hadn’t been enough to make her uncomfortable.

He, however, is entirely uncomfortable with anyone trailing after Emma and her home. He’s the one who chose this profession and everything that comes with it, and while he doesn’t like it, he should be the one to have to take all of the displeasure and annoyances that come with it, not his girlfriend when she’s simply trying to go throughout her life like she always has.

Emma’s flying out to him tomorrow, though, claiming that she wants to spend some time at the beach for the weekend. She took Friday off, has been working her arse off all week to make up for it too, and he’s excited to see her while also being able to spend time in his own home. He’s not saying his bed is more comfortable than Emma’s, but his bed is definitely more comfortable than Emma’s.

She admits to it as well.

His bed is bloody comfortable.

“You have issues, man,” Will whistles, grabbing a bottle of water out of the fridge and settling down on a stool while Killian continues to wash their plates from lunch.

“What issues do I have?”

“You’ve been in here scrubbing three plates for over fifteen minutes. And you’re just going to put them in the washer too. I don’t see the point.”

Killian shrugs, rinsing his plate off one more time before drying it with a towel. “It’s a force of habit. Didn’t have a dishwasher growing up and had to do things by hand. I’ve never quite gotten out of the habit. Also, you’re not supposed to insult the hands that feed you.”

“Before you eat, mate. It’s after. You can’t spit in my food now.” “I’ll save it for next time. What time do you have to be down at the bar?”

“Seven. I’m working until closing, which always sucks on Wednesdays. Who the hell stays out until closing on Wednesdays?”

“People who need something to drink about or who don’t have normal jobs. Or kids. So, really, most people in this city.”

“True,” Will sighs, taking another sip of his water. “I’m still waiting for you to give me a fancy job like Rob where I can finally work semi-normal hours.” “I told you. Come up with something you can do, and I’ll let you do it. Though you do serve a mean drink.” He opens up the dishwasher and puts the plates inside, checking to see how much longer until he can run the thing. “Is the match still going on?”

“Yeah, it’s in the beginnings of the fifth set. I think Rob is going to pull his hair out. But not for him. Rol has apparently been freaking out for the whole tournament. Tennis is his new thing, says Messi and Ronaldo are old news.” “Ah, to be young and switch interests so quickly.”

“Bloody hell,” Robin groans from the living room, loud enough for them to hear in the kitchen. “Why would you do that? You should have gone down the line instead of cross court.”

“Do we need to go save him before he rips all of his hair out and breaks your TV?”

“I don’t care about his hair, but I do care about my TV.”

“I can hear you,” Robin yells, the displeasure in his voice obvious. “You try having a son who’s freaking out about this match while he’s supposed to be learning how to use correct grammar at school.”

“I’ll get to working on that,” Will jokes, sliding back in his stool while Killian grabs himself a water bottle as well. “Though I don’t really think a lass will want to have a kid with me just so I can yell at the TV. I think that’s the opposite of what they want.”

“Just shut up and come watch the match,” Robin groans, and Killian shakes his head back and forth while laughter rumbles through his stomach.

“You two are ridiculous.”

-/-

Emma: I just boarded the plane. See you soon! Is there a way you can make the rain forecast go away?

Kilian: Let me just use my magical powers, and I’ll do that for you.

Emma: You’re da bomb diggity.

Emma: Pretend I didn’t type that.

Killian: Never. Be safe, love.

Emma: I shall not wear my seatbelt and will walk around during turbulence.

Killian: The definition of safety.

He goes back to lounging on his couch and flipping through channels on the TV. It’s been a long time since he was this bored, and he’s contemplating asking Elsa to bring Aiden over to the house just so that he has someone to talk to. Of course, he’s thinking about having a baby for his conversational partner, so he’s not sure how good of an idea that is.

Elsa would be here too, but he honestly wasn’t thinking about having her to talk to. He may be a horrible brother-in-law. And friend. So both. He’s terrible with both.

He’ll have to go see them sometime next week. He’s saw Liam when they went to dinner Monday night, but Elsa had been going to spend time with her friends. Maybe Emma will want to go over there this weekend, or they can come here and spend the day at the beach with them.

If he makes the rain go away. He’s supposed to be doing that.

He really might be bored enough to be delusional.

Sighing, he keeps flipping through the channels and leaves it on Friends, knowing if anything that can just play in the background while he fiddles around on his phone. He might need to pick up a new hobby other than reading and exercising. And he’s pretty sure that exercising is technically part of his job.

Does he really only have one hobby? Well, taking his boat out must count. So that’s two.

He’s got to work on this apparently.

Slowly but surely the hours pass as he alternates between watching TV and wandering around his house, cleaning up and straightening anything that’s out of place. If he wasn’t always traveling, he’d get a dog to keep him company, and he definitely spent at least two hours looking at different breeds just now.

He wants them all.

His phone buzzes to tell him there’s someone at the gate, and when he checks the video feed, it’s Emma punching in the code and walking through with her weekend bag slung over her shoulder. He immediately gets up from the couch and walks to his front door, swinging it open and running outside to catch Emma before she bothers going through the garage.

“Oh hey,” she begins when she sees him twisting her body at the sound of the door opening. “Were you watching the cameras because – ”

He doesn’t let her finish, grabbing onto her waist and pulling her to him with his lips, effectively quieting her words while she gasps into her mouth. It’s only been a week, but he’s been anxiously awaiting her being here for the entire time. Missing her isn’t getting any easier. If anything, he thinks it’s getting a bit harder. She tastes like coffee and minty gum, a combination that’s not great, but he doesn’t really care with the way she’s sliding her lips over his and threading her fingers into his hair, her nails scratching at the sensitive spots on his scalp. God, he loves her a ridiculous amount, and he’ll never not be thankful that she allows him to be a part of her life.

“Were you watching the cameras?” she sighs breathlessly when she pulls back, resting her forehead against his, her skin ridiculously warm while a breeze blows past them, the impending storm picking up. “Because I can’t decide if that’s sweet or creepy.”

“Just be quiet, Swan,” he laughs, gliding his lips over hers again and sucking on her upper lip. He quite likes the little noise she makes when he does it, and he’d like to hear it as often as possible. “And I wasn’t watching. My phone sends me a message whenever there’s someone at the gate.” “Fancy.” “I try to be. You want to come inside?” “Why, Mr. Jones,” she begins in an exaggerated accent, “you have to buy me dinner first before I come inside. I am a lady. I can’t just go home with any man.”

“Did you watch a period piece on the plane?” “Absolutely I did.” “That’s what I thought.”

The moment they get inside and have the door closed, Emma drops her bag to the ground and wraps her arms around his neck while he backs her up to the front door, rolling his hips against hers while his mouth moves over hers with more force and more intensity than it did outside. This is how most of their reunions go, hurriedly greeting each other and making up for all of the lost time that they’ve missed while apart. She’s bloody intoxicating in the way the she feels against him, the way that her tongue feels as it dances with his, and with the way that her hands move along his shoulders and up and down his sides, snaking up under his shirt at the same time this his hands find the warm skin of her stomach.

“I smell like airport.” “You know I don’t care. I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” she sighs before gasping as his lips trace along her jaw, nipping slightly and soothing every bite with his tongue. He doesn’t want to leave a mark, won’t leave one, but she likes when he teases her. He likes it too.

“That seemed like the longest flight of all time.” “You weren’t…ah fuck, you weren’t even on it.”

“I was waiting for you.” “Again, it sounds creepy without context.”

He chuckles against her ear before kissing the lobe all the while his thumbs ghost over her nipples through her bra. He can feel the lace underneath his touch, and it sends a shiver down his spine. She’s not usually one for pretty little underwear, so he’s not going to complain when he’s gifted with this.

“You talk far too much when I’m supposed to be taking your breath away.” “Do a better job,” she teases him, resting her forehead against his shoulder while she maneuvers herself to wrap her legs around his waist, grinding her core into his so that they both groan. “You can take me upstairs now.” “Not feeling like walking?” “Not at all.”

He walks her down the hallway and to the stairs all the while her lips trail across his jaw and down his neck, the pressure at the base of his spine continuously building and building and building to the point where it’s almost painful not to be inside of her right now.

“Oh my God, KJ,” she gasps when he stops to readjust her in his arms on the middle landing, “don’t you dare drop me.”

“I’m not going to, love. That’s why I’m adjusting you. This isn’t as easy as you’d think when my entire body is thrumming with frustration.”

“Thrumming?” “It’s a word.”

“Yeah, but it’s kind of weird word when you think about it. I mean – ”

“Emma, my love,” he interrupts continuing to take the steps upstairs since he’s now confident he won’t drop her, “I will absolutely sit with you and talk about language in about twenty minutes, but I need you to not think about the origins of the word thrumming right now.”

“Oh you think you’re going to last that long when you’re thrumming with desire?”

He drops Emma on the bed the moment he’s close enough to it, letting her bounce just because she’s being a smart arse, but she doesn’t seem at all deterred by that. “You are driving me mad.” “I know, I know,” she squeals as he peppers kisses across her face while undoing his zipper. “I just feel like humming would be a better choice there and – ”

He cuts her off with a kiss. It’s all he can do when she’s in a playful mood like this and wants to have an absolutely ridiculous conversation with him when he really does feel as if he may burst from frustration, desire, or whatever the hell Emma wants to call it. Honestly, he loves her, but he missed her like mad and needs this right now. And Emma’s very obviously not protesting with the way she whimpers into his mouth.

Despite their brief interlude, it’s a rush of clothing being removed and bodies melding into each other just as their lips have been. She feels fucking fantastic wrapped around him as she moves up and down above him, and he has to briefly close his eyes with the pleasure of it all. They’ve truly gotten into a groove as of late, finally having time to learn more about each other’s bodies and pleasures as they spend more time together, and he can absolutely feel all of the proof of that right now.

It’s honestly like heaven.

Emma falls apart before he does despite how keyed up he’s been, but he doesn’t last long after her, not with the way she feels pulsing (thrumming) around him and the way she whispers his name over and over again into his ear while her nails dig into his shoulders. It was quick and a bit messy, maybe even a little harsh, but as they both rest against each other while catching their breaths, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Hold on, darling,” he whispers, moving her off of him while he walks into the bathroom on still shaky legs to clean himself up and get a wash cloth for Emma. He gently cleans her up before pulling on his boxers and tossing the cloth in the laundry bin as he settles back into bed where Emma is still stretched out. “You not going to move, Swan?”

“In a minute,” she yawns, slowly sitting up and propping herself up on her elbows. “The jet lag is hitting me right now. Like, hard. I think I was run over by the plane at some point.” “Why don’t you go to sleep?” “I’m trying,” she yawns again, slowly getting up from the bed and stretching her limbs out the slightest bit. “Will you be, like, the best man in the entire world and go get my bag from downstairs? I’m just going to wear your pajamas, but I need my toothbrush.”

“I bought you one to keep here when I went shopping the other day. And I stocked up on some more of your shampoo.”

“Is it the – ”

“Yep, it’s the electronic kind that you and your special teeth like.”

“Bless you,” she sighs, coming over to him and cupping her cheeks before slanting her lips over his while his hands rest at her hips. “I love you, and I know I’m, like, deliriously tired, but that is the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me.” “Yeah, we’re definitely going to have to work on that then.” He gently slaps her arse while their lips are still ghosting over each other. “Go get dressed and try out that toothbrush, Swan.”

“I most definitely will.”

-/-

He’s standing in his kitchen drinking his mug of coffee the next morning when Emma stumbles down the stairs with all of the grace she usually possesses as she walks over his pajama pants that are far too long on her. Usually she rolls them up, but she must have just decided to take the risk of tripping and walked down the stairs like that. Honestly, he’s not even really sure if she’s actually fully awake right now with how sleep rumpled she is.

“G’morning, love.” “Morning,” she gruffs, walking toward him and taking his coffee out of his hands only to take a sip and scrunch up her face. “This is disgusting.” “That’s because it’s made for me and not for you. You don’t like black coffee. I do.”

“You’re weird,” she moans, resting her head against his chest and wrapping her arms around his waist after putting the mug down. She must be exhausted, all of her sleep making her groggier than usual, and he lets her rest there, rubbing his hand up and down her back while her hair gets caught in his mouth. Her hair is really something else. “I’m tired.”

“Really? I couldn’t tell.” She weakly hits his back before pulling away from him. “Sorry for taking your coffee. I’m going to make an actual, drinkable cup now, and you can keep your nasty one to yourself.”

“Sounds like a plan, Stan.”

“Ha,” Emma laughs, her eyes lighting up, “I knew that I’d get you to say it!”

“Aye, Swan, you’ve bested me with your odd little sayings.”

“Yes, exactly.” She pokes him in the stomach before moving around him and preparing her own cup. “I said bloody hell the other day, so we obviously both have problems.”

It’s nice to have a slow, quiet morning with Emma. There’s no impending plane ride tomorrow, no immediate rush to do everything they absolutely can in twenty-four hours, so they sit in his living room, drinking their coffee and eating the bagels he had delivered this morning. Usually he’d cook something, but he wasn’t feeling like it this morning, figuring he could just order in while Emma was sleeping upstairs.

He really likes having her here, and while he knows it’s far too soon to even suggest it, he wishes it could be a permanent thing. He keeps thinking about it, though, thinking about the fact that Emma could have more than just her toothbrush here.

She’s laughing at the beginning of the Hangover, something he’d like to get to experience more often, and while he wonders why that movie is playing before noon on a Friday, he’s not going to question it when he can already feel his stomach rumbling with laughter as well. Suddenly Emma’s phone starts ringing, the vibrations causing it to move across the coffee table, and she leans forward to pick it up. “Hello?” she answers, adjusting her legs and tucking them underneath her. “Oh hey, Rubes. Rubes? Hey, Ruby?” she soothes, her voice calm yet firm, and he immediately mutes the television so Emma can hear. “Ruby, you have to stop cursing and tell me what’s wrong. Are you okay? Is Marg okay?”

She looks over at him with fear in her eyes, the green brighter than usual, but he can see them relax while Ruby tells her whatever she tells her. He can’t hear, the sounds muffled, but if Emma wanted him to, she’d put in on speaker.

“Oh, Rubes,” Emma sighs, getting up from the couch and pacing the room, “I’m so sorry. Do you want to talk about what happened?”

He has absolutely no idea what’s happening, what’s wrong with Ruby, but he watches Emma move back and forth in front of his television, running her hand through her hair multiple times all the while biting her lip. She doesn’t look upset, not truly, but she’s definitely not happy. The fact that she’s not crying soothes him in the fact that he doesn’t think someone has died or been in an accident.

He wants to know because he’s curious, but he also wants to know because he wants everyone to be okay. He’s really come to care about Emma’s friends.

“I’m going to be home Sunday night. I promise. I’ll come over to your place, or you can come over to mine. It doesn’t matter, but why don’t you go spend some time with Marg? I know you probably want to be alone, but Marg really does help. And I know for a fact that she’s got a bunch of good junk food in her freezer. I love you, Rubes.”

Ruby obviously says a few more things, Emma nodding her head to all of them, before she’s hanging up her phone, placing in on the coffee table, and then coming to straddle his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing his cheek.

He rubs his hand up and down her back in what he hopes are calming circles. “What’s wrong, Swan? You okay?”

“Fine,” she mumbles into his skin before pulling back and settling back on his thighs. He gently take her hand in his, bringing her wrist to his lips and kissing the skin there several times. “I mean, I feel really shitty for being here because Ruby and Victor broke up and I’m not there to comfort her. She took the day off of work and everything, and Ruby is not one for moping. But she’s moping. I think we really all hoped it was going to work out for them this time.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Why?”

“You’re not home because you’re here with me. I’m sorry for Ruby, and I’m sorry you can’t be there with her.”

“It’s okay,” she sighs, and he can tell that she only partially means it. “Marg is much more comforting, and then by the time Ruby’s ready to bash Victor, I’ll be there with all of the things that bothered me about him but that I never voiced.”

“Is the hair number one on that list?”

“Stop,” she groans, scrunching up her face and slapping his shoulder. “That’s awful.” “I mean, that is probably pretty tame compared to what’s going on in your mind right now.”

“True.” Emma dips her head and slants her lips over his. She tastes like her coffee, the vanilla creamer obvious, and he can’t say he minds, not when the taste is on her lips and not in his coffee. It’s much better than the mint and coffee of last night. “I love you.”

He reaches up and tucks her hair behind her ears, the strands continuously falling, before looking up at her through his lashes while his thumb traces over her cheek, over the freckles that reside there. “I love you, too. Do you want to go out to the beach to get your mind off of things?” “I’d like that.”

The temperature continues to rise throughout the day, but with the way the sky is overcast, the heat isn’t overwhelming. If anything, it almost makes it cool despite being over eighty degrees. And as the dark clouds move in, thunder rumbling in the air, he only gets a few minutes to appreciate Emma in the scrap of fabric she has on before they’re rushing inside already soaked to the bone with how quickly the rain fell.

He thought maybe the storm wouldn’t come after it didn’t break last night, but he was apparently wrong about that.

After they’ve both quickly rinsed the sand off in the shower and changed into warmer clothes, they settle down in his room, Emma pulling the comforter practically up to her chin while he flips through the channels trying to find something to watch. Emma teases him when they pass one of his movies, practically begging to watch, but he refuses and settles on one of the Oceans movies just to have something playing. Friday afternoon is obviously not prime time for movie replays.

Obviously Fridays are just bad for television overall.

Emma’s been herself all day, but he can tell that not being at home with Ruby is definitely bothering her. She’ll get quiet every now and then, her gaze trailing away, and she’s got her phone by her side constantly when she usually leaves it alone for a little while, not always having to be on it. He wishes he could help, had offered to pay for her ticket so she could go home early, but she insisted that it was fine, that it really will be better for her to stay. Still, he can tell that she wishes she was at home, especially when she walks out of the room to talk to Mary Margaret for at least an hour.

“We should do something with your family tomorrow,” she tells him. “Or Will and Robin. I don’t know. As much as I love sitting inside with you with it pouring down rain outside, we probably should leave this house at some point. Or maybe have people come to us.” He wraps his arm around her shoulder, tugging her closer and kissing her temple. “Elsa did say she wanted to do something with you.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“How?”

He can feel her shrug under his arm. “We text.” “Really now?”

“Hey, don’t be so surprised. I like her. Also, I know that you and Marg talk about food all of the time, so it’s really not weird.”

“I never said it was, love.”

“It was implied, KJ.”

-/-

“You’re such a cutie,” Emma coos to Aiden, brushing his hair off of his face while she lays on the floor of Elsa’s house with him so that they can play with all of the toys he has scattered across the ground. Aiden’s taken quite a liking to her, which is good considering his fondness for only liking people he knows. “You remind me so much of Leo.”

Aiden runs one of his trucks over Emma’s stomach, and she doesn’t even care, laying out on the ground and making Aiden giggle with all of her theatrics.

“If anything, I think I’m going to keep you around to entertain my kid,” Elsa laughs, settling down next to him on the couch and handing him the tea she’s been making.

“I mean, I’m being run over by giant trucks right now, so it’s very hard work. I feel like I need a pay raise.” “We’ll negotiate later.” Elsa nudges his shoulder, making him tear his eyes away from where Emma is now tickling Aiden’s stomach, their combined laughter filling the room.

“What?”

“Slow your roll,” Elsa whispers into his ear, squeezing his shoulder.

“What are you on about, lass?”

“You’re thinking about future things,” Elsa continues, and he can feel the blush rising in his face and reaching the tips of his ears. He is thinking about future things, has been all weekend, but watching Emma with Aiden is filling him with more thoughts than it should. One day at a time. They take things one day at a time, maybe a few weeks at a time, but they’re not thinking years ahead. He’s thinking years ahead. “I can see all of the gears turning in your head, see the way you’re making all of these plans.”

“I am not.” “You are.” She rubs her hand up and down his arm while he takes a sip of his tea, letting the warm liquid wash down. “And I’m so happy for you, but you gotta take the baby steps before you take the running leaps.”

He hums, knowing that she’s telling the truth. Honestly, though, even with all of his thoughts about the future, he knows this. He’s not looking to do anything that he’s not ready for. He’s not looking to do anything that Emma’s not ready for.

“Thank you for your all-knowing advice, oh wise one.”

“Shut up,” she groans, slapping his shoulder before pulling back and picking up her tea from the coffee table and drinking it. “Emma, let me know when you’re tired of fooling with him, and I’ll pull Liam out of his office so that the three of us don’t have to have him constantly in our sights.” “Are we talking about Aiden or Killian here?”

Elsa giggles beside him, blinking down into her cup all the while he feels the tips of his ears heat again. “Sweetheart,” he sweetly begins, “I will leave you here and change the gate code at the house if this is how things are going to be.”

“Hmm,” Emma mumbles, pulling Aiden up to stand on her stomach, “I think I’ll just stay here. I feel like Aiden will gladly share his room with me. He’s much cuter than you too.”

“This is so true.”

“Bloody hell,” he grumbles into his cup. “I’ve made a mistake introducing the two of you. This is not nearly as entertaining as when we’re all ganging up on Liam.” “That’s because Liam is much more fun to make fun of,” Elsa laughs, having to wipe the corners of her eyes. “He gets much more flustered than you, which is saying something.”

They stay over at Liam and Elsa’s while the storm rains itself out, coating the city in water that it probably desperately needed, especially with the summer heat taking full effect. It’s nice listening to the steady rhythm of the rain beating against the house, watching it fall down through the floor-to-ceiling windows they have leading out to the backyard, and while he had no intention of staying here all day, it’s exactly what happens. Emma falls asleep in a recliner, a blanket pulled up around her legs and Aiden snuggled into her chest, while he and Elsa watch TV and eat food, catching up on everything they’ve missed while Liam finally leaves his office and joins them.

It’s one of those days where you know it’s good while it’s happening, and even though Emma wanted to spend time out at the beach while she was out here, he doesn’t think that the rain has been a bad thing.

It’s actually been a good one.

Really good.