#cs valentines fic

[kazoosandfannypacks]

"Open to Interpretation" by kazoosandfannypacks

Pairing: Captain Swan

Rating: General

Word Count: 1K

Summary: At the art museum, Emma is appalled at works by modern artist Killian Jones- until a handsome stranger convinces her otherwise.

Tags: au, fluff, captain swan, one shot, modern au

Author's notes: Happy Valentine's Day to my lovely followers and readers! Yesterday I released a poll to see which fic I should release next... and surprise, surprise, the release date was today! Almost half of you voted for "Art Museum," so I hope y'all enjoy this one! it is, in fact, based on that list of meet uglies that was floating around!

Taglist:@zahara@kmomof4@jonesfandomfanatic@booksteaandtoomuchtv@jrob64@tiganasummertree@anmylica@teamhook@undercaffinatednightmare@gingerchangeling@lonelyspectator@caught-in-the-filter  @ultraluckycatnd  @cs-rylie @silver-the-phoenix [if you’d like to be added to or removed from this list, hmu in my dms or askbox!]

Also on Ao3!

 "I can't believe this guy has a whole wing dedicated to his art." Emma muttered, staring at the painting in front of her. She didn't know who this "Killian Jones" was, but based on his art, she was glad she didn't.

 "Why not?" A voice behind her asked.

 She hadn't even realized she'd made her statement out loud, but she'd never been one to back down from a fight, even over something as trivial as art.

 "It's tasteless," She turned to look at the stranger, only to find him more attractive than she expected, "and purposeless- like if absurdism and abstract art had a child in a soulless void. This guy isn't trying to communicate anything, and if he is, he's buried it so deep his viewership can't find out what it is."

 "That's because they're not looking," He said, "besides, isn't art open to interpretation? 'Death of the author' and all that? Maybe the reason you're not seeing the message is that you're not looking hard enough."

 Determined not to be outwitted by a cute art museum stranger, she turned back to the painting in front of her and tried to see what it could possibly mean. This piece in particular was of waves on a stormy sea- except one large blotch of a vibrant white, silhouetting a sailing ship.

 "This one communicates that he knows how to paint water," Emma suggested, "but he's scared to try his hand at realism when it comes to boats. It almost looks like he intended to paint a magnificent vessel there- but backed down at the last minute."

 The stranger laughed. "That's what this picture shows. But what does that communicate?"

 "That he doesn't like to paint boats?"

 "Then I suppose you haven't paid close attention to the rest of the exhibit," he said, "ships seem to be a recurring theme in Jones' work."

 Emma bit her lip and nodded. She did recall seeing a few other paintings of ships in this wing.

 "So the absence of the ship here is intentional," he continued, "he meant for this picture to be missing something."

 "A purpose?" Emma suggested.

 He gave half a laugh, "You're closer than you think. I believe Jones' purpose," and here he paused, for a dramatic effect, "is that some purpose of his is missing. The sea has everything but a vessel to sail on it, and without it, something is missing. A clever metaphor, really- though it may be a bit lost on less intellectual self-proclaimed connoisseurs."

 "Did he just insult me?" Emma thought, though she had to admit, she started to appreciate the meaning behind the piece- there'd been times she'd felt like that shipless sea herself. Still, she was determined not to be outwit by this stranger.

 "That's just one piece," Emma said, then pointed to one she'd spent twenty minutes judging, "what do you think he meant to communicate by this?"

 This one was more simplistic than the other, painted in only three colors, and only using basic shapes. It depicted a classic red heart on a white background, with three lines overtop the heart, something like thorns sticking out of the lines- and those were deep black.

 "A valentine's heart a five year old could draw," Emma said, "basic shapes, a self proclaimed gritty design that a twelve year old emo with Microsoft Paint would be able to make for themselves."

 "You've done it again," he said, "in attempting to swing a low blow on the painting, you've instead hit the nail on the head. This is simple, it is easily accessible- and I think that's because grief is too. Whatever pain inspired this piece, he must've found it extremely extraordinary, to paint it in such an ordinary manner- as if trying to make one understand it. See how the thorns cover the heart, almost like a jail cell, like you can't reach your heart through all that grief."

 Emma nodded. "Or maybe the heart is trying to get out- and the grief is the cage you use to protect it."

 "So this piece doesn't exist in a soulless void either?" he asked, and raised an eyebrow.

 "Two out of twenty means nothing."

 "Then perhaps discuss another?" he asked.

 "What about that one?" Emma asked. A few paintings down the hall was an abstract array of brushstrokes, all positioned vertically on the canvas. All of them were in shades of red, pink and white, except for two of them. These two would've been directly parallel with each other if they were centered on the canvas, but one was on the top right and the other on the bottom left. They were a deeper shade of red, so much so that they were almost purple, and on further inspection one could even see a little bit of blue peeking out the edge of each stripe, on the sides facing their nearest edge.

 "What do you think he doesn't mean to say in this one?" he asked her.

 "It looks like Pong without the ball or the center line." Emma said. "Is this another 'something important is missing' too, like how," and here she feigned a dramatic tone of voice, "a game of Pong without the ball is already lost?"

 "Not even close this time," he said, "and you were so good up until now."

 "I thought art was up to interpretation?" Emma asked.

 "True, but look at this," he pointed to the title of the piece.

 "Silverstein's Masks?" Emma asked. "I don't know who Silverstein was, but he must've been some kind of picasso painting himself if he could wear this as a mask."

 "So knowledgeable in the visual arts, but not in the literary," he shook his head, "I believe the Silverstein in question is Shel."

 "Shel Silverstein?" Emma asked, "like, The Giving Tree."

 "Ah, so you do know the classics," he said, "but you may not be familiar with one of Silverstein's lesser known works, a short poem almost like a tragedy, simply entitled Masks."

 "And I take it you know the poem?"

"Quite familiar with it," he said, "'She had blue skin, and so did he. He kept it hid, and so did she. They searched for blue their whole lives through- then passed right by and never knew."

  "And these stripes are supposed to represent that?" Emma asked, trying to hide how impressed she was by his recitation.

 "You know more than you're letting on," he said, putting a hand on her shoulder to turn her attention back to the painting, pointing out details with his other hand, "see how these two almost look like they're moving, moving past each other. And while, for the most part, these appear like the others, you can see, just barely peeking out at the bottom- though not where the other could have ever noticed- that under all that red, they're blue."

 "So?" Emma asked, understanding exactly what it meant, but wanting to hear him say it in his own words, finding his intellect and voice and his face altogether quite attractive.

 "In trying to blend with the rest of the palate, they've closed themselves off from the opportunity to be understood- they've lost a chance to be truly loved because they tried to be something they weren't."

 Emma nodded. "I think I get it now."

 She looked up at the stranger, his hand still on her shoulder, his eyes a work of art unto themselves, one that she carefully inspected.

 "Shall we discuss another one?" he asked, remembering his place and taking his hand off Emma's shoulder.

 "I think you've proved your point," Emma said.

 "Oh?" he asked, "and what point is that?"

 Emma rolled her eyes. "Killian Jones is very clearly a talented artist with a clear message in his works."

 The stranger smiled a little more than expected, almost sheepishly.

 "I'm glad to hear you've changed your mind, miss…."

 He held his hand out to her, and she took it, noticing how strong his grip was, but how delicate as well.

 "Swan," Emma said, "Emma Swan. And you are?"

  "Artist in residence," he smiled, "Killian Jones."

[booksteaandtoomuchtv]

Please, Be Mine (2/2)

Summary: It is the big night. Will Killian win Emma's heart?

Part 1 | AO3

I opened the door, guiding Emma into the busy restaurant with my hand on her lower back. I’d done something similar every time we’d met up for drinks or a meal, but tonight my palm was sweaty and she could probably feel my heart racing where my fingertips rested on the soft fabric of her dress.

As she looked around, I gave my name for our reservation. I tugged at her hand, pulling her behind me as we followed the hostess through the maze of tables toward the back of the dimly lit space. When the hostess pull the door open, revealing an airy balcony with a few intimate tables lit by fairy lights overlooking the city, I could feel more than see Emma’s wide smile.

Once we were seated, I could see the humour dancing in Emma’s eyes but she was biting her lips holding back her comment as the hostess pushed in her seat.

“What is it?” I demanded the second the hostess was out of hearing range.

“You find the most romantic spots and yet you’ve failed to secure a second date for, what has it been now…?”

“Ten months.”

Ever since that night. I’d picked her up, sobbing and broken, after that nasty fight with Neal. Ever since she’d curled up in the tightest ball that night and I wrapped myself around her while she slept, providing what comfort and protection I could. Ever since I stopped searching for love.

“Almost a year! What are you doing to these poor women?” 

“That is what we are here to find out, love,” I said, flashing my most suggestive smile.

Her cheeks burned red, but she looked away before I could read what had flashed in her eyes.

“Wine, love?” I grabbed the wine from the table centrepiece, careful not to disturb the artfully arranged crimson and snow-white roses amid the dancing candles.

“I ended things with him,” her voice was so soft.

I froze. I could hear the blood rushing through my ears and felt my heart hammering in my chest, I must have misheard her.

“It’s funny,” she scoffed, “I left your flat, last week. I was happy and a bit excited. Couldn’t remember the last time I felt anything other than disappointment after hanging out with Neal. So, I called him and ended it.”

I handed her a glass I’d poured while she was talking, eyes still studying the skyline. She took the glass, taking a long sip to steady herself. She scoffed, turning toward me, “He just said ‘Sounds good, Ems.’ Then, he hung up.”

I clenched my jaw, trying to calm the thoughts crowding as she spoke.

She took another long sip. “After three years, he says ‘Sounds good, Ems.’ I haven’t heard from him since.” Her eyes meet mine in challenge, there was no sorrow or even sadness in her expression, and she was making it clear that she didn’t want pity from me.

“A second glass, then,” I teased, topping her glass. She let out a small laugh, relief clear on her face.

“Trying to get me drunk?” My heart skipped at the brilliant smile she flashed my way.

The waiter interrupted my response. I watched as Emma listened to him rattle off the specials. She was sipping her wine and seemed completely relaxed in a way that I hadn’t seen in a while.

I wanted to capture this moment and save it forever; she was absolutely stunning - wine-stained lips, her slightly uneven, bright smile, golden strands of hair blowing in her face, carried by the light breeze, and those brilliant green eyes sparkling in the fairy lights. When she turned her gaze on me, my breath caught.

“Killian? Your order?” “Oh, erm…,” were the suave words that spilled from me as she tore me from my thoughts. The waiter looked annoyed, so it was likely the two of them were trying to get my attention for a little while. I cleared my throat, wet my lips, and tried again, “that, uh, that lamb special.”

The waiter nodded and retreated leaving us to our wine.

Emma cocked her head and narrowed her eyes at me. “So, where were you?” “I’m sure that I don’t know what you mean,” I deflected with a half smile.

“Right. Seems to me that you were a bit…,” she ran her tongue along her lips, my eyes tracked the movement, “distracted, love.”

“Don’t mock a man’s accent, Swan.”

“Fine. Keep your secrets,” she said, breaking eye contact and pushing her lower lip into a playful pout.

I took a long sip of my wine, for courage, before tipping my toe into the water. “Your eyes were bright, reflecting the twinkling of the fairy lights. Next thing I knew, I was trapped in their depths, lost in the sea of emerald and glimmering gold.”

I held my breath, heart pounding in my throat. She looked at me and cocked her head to one side. She looked as if she could read every thought passing through my mind.

My heart sped up and I almost had to gasp for more air. I’d revealed too much. The limb I’d climbed out on was snapping beneath me. I needed to take back the words and get us back to familiar territory.

Why couldn’t I think of a single quip? Any charming remark that would disarm her would have done.

“Killian,” she started, her voice little more than a whisper, her eyes glistening with the beginning of tears.

What had I been thinking? She’d only been free from Neal for a week and she’d never shown any interest in me beyond the friendship that we shared. What could have possibly compelled me to…

“That was, um, wow,” Emma said, voice gaining strength. “That was quite a line.”

A mixture of disappointment and relief swept through me. We’d gotten too close and it almost ruined everything between us. As the meal was brought out and set before us, I resolved to finish the evening without any more misguided confessions of my unrequited love.

--------

“That was wonderful! Thank you,” Emma said as we left the restaurant.

“We aren’t done yet, love.” “Oh?”

“Up for a walk along the river?”

Rather than answering, she pulled my hand into hers and directed us toward the water.

We’d walked the uneven bricks along the water countless nights, hand-in-hand as we chatted about our biggest dreams, our deepest fears, and the little nothings that fill the spaces in between. Yet, as we approached the familiar bricks, I was struck by the feeling that there was something different between us tonight.

After my earlier stumble, I dared not remark on the strange feeling.

“You’re quiet tonight,” Emma said over the sound of the water lapping against the docked ships.

“Deciding which ship we will sail tonight. It is not a decision we should make lightly.” It was an old game we played when we first started our walks.

She pointed at a large yacht docked furthest from us, “That one ought to do.”

“But, she’s flashy. We’d not even make it out of the city centre before we were caught.” I pointed at a shrimping boat that looked as though it had been abandoned by the owner a few months back, “See that is what we need, no one would miss it.”

“If we are stealing a ship..”

“Commandeering”

“If we are obtaining a ship, I want it to be our means to freedom. That one looks like we’re embarking on a new career.” “There’s always been a bit of pirate in you, Swan,” I said before my eyes landed on the beautiful, historic merchant ship that stood proudly over our little town’s docks each night. It was too dark to make out the beautiful wooden board or the navy paint on her hull, but the bright white paint that ran under the vessel to the bowsprit seemed to shine on its own.

“There she is,” Emma said with a smile.

“Aye.” I agreed, “It’s time we boarded our ship.” I walked off toward the dock, toward the ship she didn’t know that I’d bought a month ago.

“Wait, really?”

“I told you that I know how to plan a night out!” I called over my shoulder. We had started racing toward the ship and I wasn’t going to let her board before me. I wanted to see the moment she saw our wildest dream come true.

She was smiling and breathless as she boarded the ship behind me. “I can’t believe we're on the Lady Washington after all these years.”

“Well, a new owner means the ship needs a new name.”

“Wait, you didn’t.”

“I did.”

Her face grew serious, “Killian, why do you intentionally tank every date that I’ve set you up on?”

“I would never!” I said with exaggerated innocence, hiding my fear of where she was taking this conversation.

“The truth, Jones,” she said sternly.

“Don’t you know?” I responded with my eyebrow raised and a teasing smile on my face.

“I need you to confirm a suspicion of mine,” she stepped closer, her eyes studying my face intently.

The last bit of playfulness left me. I shook my head, not wanting to say the words.

“Why’d you buy the ship, Killian?” She was so close now. Her sweet vanilla scent mingled with the sweet wine from earlier wrapped around me. Her eyes seemed so big, I couldn’t - I didn’t want to - look anywhere else.

I swallowed and then darted my tongue out to moisten my lips. Her eyes flashed with something I’d seen before and never named. Something that I suddenly understood to be desire. A desire that she certainly could see reflected in my eyes.

“Because of you, Emma,” my voice was rough and low. I tried to pull back, to see her response to the words I could never take back. But, she grabbed the lapels of my jacket and pulled me forcefully into her.

Her lips collided with mine, demanding and desperate. Then, they were gone too soon. My fingers went to my swollen lips, pressing the quickly fading warmth she’d left back into my lips. She was flushed and looked as affected as I felt.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that,” she admitted.

“Then, why have we stopped?”

“Well, we’re quite exposed,” she laughed as she gestured around us.

“Oh, we can change that, love.” I grabbed her hand and tugged her toward the captain’s quarters.

HAPPY VALENTINE'S, LOVES!

[whimsicallyenchantedrose]

Valentine’s Rerun (1 of 2): Cupid’s Grenade

Tagging a few people who may be interested (Let me know if you want to be added or taken off the list): @sailormew4 @annaamell @flslp87 @emmateo26@bethacaciakay @ultraluckycatnd @effulgent-mind @ilovemesomekillianjones @kat2609 @brooke-to-broch @missgymgirl @galadriel26 @the-lady-of-misthaven @charmingturkeysandwich @jennjenn615 @laschatzi @kimmy46 @snowbellewells @iamanneenigma @daxx04 @nickillian @in-spirational @gillie  @britishguyslover @ginnyjinxedandhanshotritafirst @kmomof4  @linda8084 @golfgirld @captain-swan-coffee @searchingwardrobes @hollyethecurious @laughswaytoomuch  @allyourdarlingswans  @winterbaby89 @facesiousbutton82 @therooksshiningknight, @lfh1226-linda @tiganasummertree  @jrob64  @anmylica     @cosette141​

Originally part of my Fluffy Fridays collection. When a mysterious stranger comes to town and sets off a magical grenade in Granny’s during the breakfast rush on the day before Valentine’s Day, the residents of the town suddenly feel extra amorous. What will Emma and Killian do if the spell doesn’t wear off?

CS Genre: Canon divergence from early 3b

He crossed the town line into Storybrooke late on the night of February 12th.  He walked for half a mile before he reached anything resembling civilization, wanting nothing more than a place to rest and regroup, a place to plan his next move.

It had been an extraordinarily bad year.  So much discord, so much division everywhere he turned.  It drained his energy, his very life source like nothing had since the last Ogre War.  He needed an infusion, and he needed one fast.  Thank the gods Valentine’s Day was little more than a day away.

He passed a shop, dark and closed, caught his reflection in the picture window and jumped back, startled, bringing one wrinkled, bony hand to his equally wrinkled, bony face.  He was even further gone than he’d previously believed.  He could only hope the rumors about this sleepy little town were true.

“Storybrooke, that’s where you want to go,” the seer had assured him.  “Not only is it the only source of magic in this land, but it’s brimming with True Love, both that which is acknowledged, and that which is denied.”

If he had any hope to survive the week, he needed that True Love.

If this world had any hope to survive, they needed him just as badly.

He walked slowly, laboriously, looking for the most opportune place.  Town hall?  No, it emitted angry energy, a place of discord.  A brick building with a sign over the door calling itself The Rabbit Hole was promising, but still not quite right.  Finally, he arrived at an establishment with tables and chairs on the terrace, a bright, neon sign proclaiming Granny’s.

Perfect.

~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~

The next morning, Granny’s

Killian stepped from his room in the bed and breakfast and headed downstairs to the cafe where he was to meet Swan and her parents for a quick strategy meeting while they dined on Granny’s delectable fare.

He smiled to himself, an extra spring in his step as he walked.  The situation in which the residents of Storybrooke found themselves was, once again, less than ideal.  An unknown, unnamed villain had cursed them back to Storybrooke and wiped their memories of the past year, and no one had any idea why.  He should be concerned; he knew he should, but he couldn’t stop the joy that bubbled up within his heart.

Selfish though the thought was, he was grateful for the villain’s machinations, grateful for the curse.

For it was the curse that allowed him to cross worlds, the curse that allowed him to be reunited with his Swan, the curse that ended the hell that had been the last year without her.

Oh, he’d tried to convince himself that he’d merely needed to return to his pirate lifestyle, but every step he took away from her, away from the hero he’d tried to become for her, had felt wrong, made him feel her loss even more acutely.

Slowly, but surely he’d come to realize that it was more than just the loss of the love of his life that made his pirate activities lose their luster.  He’d changed.  Not just because of her, but because of himself.  He wanted to be a good man, a hero.

Killian stepped into the cafe.  Early though it was, the sun had barely come up, the establishment was already brimming with business.  He scanned the tables until he saw her sitting at a booth across from her parents.

His heart turned over.  She was so bloody beautiful, so bloody precious to him.

He knew she was hesitant to embrace life here in Storybrooke once again.  She loved her parents, held at least some amount of affection for him, but the weight of being The Savior hung heavy on her.  He couldn’t blame her for wishing to retain the seemingly peaceful existence she’d lived with her lad in New York.

Still, she’d come back with him, had agreed to help her family, the whole town, defeat the newest threat to their safety.  He could only hope to one day exhibit half her courage and selflessness.

“Hook, you finally made it,” Swan said, scooting over and patting the seat next to her.  “After all your talk about being a pirate and rising with the sun I thought I was going to have to go up and drag your butt out of bed.”

Killian gratefully took the seat next to Emma, using all his willpower to avoid imagining Emma coming to his bed.

“I rise with the sun, darling,” he said with a grin, “but it would seem you lot couldn’t wait for that auspicious occasion.”

Emma looked down, playing with the handle of her mug of cocoa.  “Yeah, well we wanted to make sure and meet early enough that we could talk before Henry wakes up.  Don’t want the kid to get freaked out with mentions of curses and villains and whatever other crap we need to discuss.  He doesn’t have his memories, after all.”

Snow White reached across the table and covered her daughter’s hand on her mug.  “Don’t worry, honey.  We’ll find a way to bring back Henry’s memories.  Somehow.  And until then everyone here has agreed to live like that sleepy, normal town we thought we were during the curse.”

Emma glanced aside, a look of guilt on her face, and not for the first time, Killian wondered if she even wanted her son to regain his memories.  He could feel the turmoil coming off of her in waves and he wanted nothing more than to wrap her in his arms and sooth the tension away.

But he knew his Swan better than that.  She’d rebuilt the fortress around her heart over the last, long year of separation, and it would take him some time to help her disassemble it; some time before his advances were once again tolerated, let alone welcomed.

“Okay,” Emma said, after a deep breath, “so we know someone cursed you.  We know a year has gone by that you don’t remember.  We know crossing the town line turns people into, I can’t believe I’m going to say this, flying monkeys.  Anything else I’m missing?”

“I had a conversation with the dwarfs,” David answered, “and after their latest patrol at the town line, they found…”

Suddenly the door to the diner was slammed open, the bell above ringing angrily.  The entire diner went silent, still, as the oldest man Killian had ever seen walked slowly in until he was standing in the very center of the room.  Dressed all in red, quite the dapper tuxedo and top hat at that, the man walked, hunched over, leaning heavily on a cane.  Every eye was on him as he stopped, looked at the gaudy Valentine’s Day decorations Granny had hung, shaking his head at the Cupid with his bow and arrow, and then reached into his breast pocket.

Killian watched, fascinated as he pulled out a small red object in the shape of a heart, pulled a pin from its center, tossed it to the floor and then slowly began walking away.

“Grenade!”  Leroy shouted as the object began smoking.

Chaos ensued as the cafe’s patrons scrambled to reach the exits, but it was clear they’d never be free of the building in time.  Killian reacted on instinct, moving to cover Swan’s body with his own just as a large “boom!” filled the diner as the heart-shaped object exploded.

He waited for the shock, the pain as the explosive blasted him, but it never came.  He looked up to see nothing but a pink, shimmering cloud billowing from the heart, suffusing the diner, and then dissipating.

For a moment he felt an intense burst of love and longing for the woman beside him, and he instinctively looked down into her startled eyes, but then she blinked, and the spell was over.  Killian shook his head and sat up, resuming his own seat on the bench.

For a moment, a shocked silence fell over the room, and then an excited buzz began as Granny’s patrons realized they had indeed survived the...whatever the blazes that had been.

“What the hell was that?!” Emma ground out.

“I don’t know,” Dave said, “but I have a feeling we really need to find out.”

~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~

Later that afternoon

“Cupid?  You’re telling me that old guy was Cupid?”

Emma ground her teeth in frustration, keeping her hands resolutely in her jeans pockets lest she do something stupid like grab her pirate (no!  Not her pirate) and kiss the daylights out of him.

What was wrong with her?

After the heart grenade had gone off in Granny’s this morning, she, her parents and Hook had found Belle in Gold’s shop to pick her brain, see if she had any idea who the mysterious old man was.

Of all the answers Belle could have given them,  “It appears Cupid has come to Storybrooke,” was the last one Emma had expected.

Of course Cupid was real too, because...of course he was.

Belle reached under the counter and retrieved an old book decorated with flowers and hearts.  Flipping through several pages, she turned the tome toward them, pointing to a photograph of a very old man.  

“That’s him,” Snow said, “that’s the man who...did whatever he did to us.”

“Like I said,” Belle said, turning the book back toward her.  “It seems we’ve been visited by Cupid.”

“Who and what is Cupid?” Killian asked from her side.  (Emma ground her teeth again, determinedly ignoring the way his velvety voice made the butterflies in her chest flutter and come to life.  Ignoring the intense affection she suddenly felt for him.  Ignoring the sudden desire to lace her fingers with his.)

“Best I can tell,” Belle said, “he’s a deity of some kind.  He, for lack of a better word, feeds on love.  It’s his source of sustenance.  The more the world around him is depleted of love, the older, frailer he becomes.”

“And what does that have to do with the grenade or whatever that he tossed at us?” Emma asked.

Belle flipped a couple of pages, and then pointed down at a passage of text.  “That’s the interesting part.  You see, February 14, Valentine’s Day is his big day of love harvest every year.  His grenades contain a powerful spell that...encourages love and affection in everyone on which the spell falls.  It reaches its peak in 24 hours, which makes today, February 13 the perfect day to launch it.”

Emma groaned.  “A love spell?  Are you telling me freaking Cupid cast a love spell on all of us?  One that won’t wear off until tomorrow?”

“I’m afraid so,” Belle answered.

Well, that was just...just…

Actually that was kind of reassuring.

From the second that damn grenade had gone off, Emma had been feeling things she couldn’t explain, things she didn’t want to feel, things she’d been working hard at denying ever since Neverland, maybe even before.

As soon as the spell had cleared, she’d looked up into Killian’s intense blue eyes and felt wave after wave of want, of longing, of...of...love crash over her.  She wanted to hold him, kiss him, hold his hand, touch him. 

But that wasn’t the worst part.  Physical attraction she could handle.  Hook was hot, there was no denying that.  Feeling a physical pull to him, that was understandable.  If she didn’t think it would give him the wrong impression, she’d have no problem giving into her urges.  She’d had plenty of one-nighters in the past.

But it wasn’t just physical attraction she felt following the pink, sparkly cloud.  No, it was emotions as well.  She had the sudden need to talk to him alone, to tell him that she’d somehow missed him during the last year, even though she didn’t remember him.  That some part of her had been so intensely happy to see him there at her apartment door that she could hardly contain herself.  That his attempted True Love’s Kiss...she didn’t knee him because he’d assaulted her, she’d kneed him because it felt right, like she was coming home and that totally freaked her out.  She wanted to tell him she was glad he’d found her, glad he was by her side, glad he’d brought her home.

But that, all of that, was crazy.  She didn’t do emotions, didn’t let herself be that vulnerable with another person, someone who could destroy her if she let him.

So all things considered?  Finding out she was feeling all this due to a stupid love potion was a relief.

All she had to do was grin and bear it until the spell wore off tomorrow and then everything would be back to normal.

~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~

Granny’s Bed and Breakfast, February 15, 2 hours before dawn

Emma tossed and turned, her fitful sleep punctuated by dreams.  Disturbing, troubling dreams.

Dreams where she walked with Hook, hand in hand, down by the docks.  Where they talked and kissed.  He smiled at her and she smiled back.  They were both radiantly, blissfully happy.  He led her back to his ship (where was his ship, by the way?  She was pretty sure she hadn’t seen it since they’d come back to Storybrooke), down to his captain’s quarters.

She teased him about his tiny bed, he’d laughed along with her, wiggling his expressive eyebrows in that ridiculous way of his, joking that it wasn’t the size, it was what you did with it.  He’d swaggered to her, invaded her space, threaded his fingers through her hair as he leaned down and captured her lips….

Henry mumbled something in his sleep, and Emma woke with a start.

The dream had been so damn lifelike.  She could still feel Killian’s hand in her hair, feel his lips against hers.  Bringing a hand to her chest, Emma willed her heart rate to slow.  Why was this happening to her?

The last 36 hours had been torture.  Pure, beautiful, intense torture.

Her feelings for Killian had grown and strengthened as the 13th and then the 14th wore on, and though she knew they weren’t real, knew they were caused solely by Cupid’s stupid love spell, more than once she’d almost cracked, almost thrown caution to the wind and bared her heart to the man who was constantly in her thoughts.

Emma had been half sure Hook would use the curse to try to get close to her.  She was afraid he’d declare himself again, try to force her into an awkward conversation about the feelings they held for each other, but she needn’t have worried.  Killian seemed no more eager to explore the effects of the love spell than she was.  He’d left the library soon after Belle explained their predicament, and he’d kept his distance ever since.

He’s giving you space.  He doesn’t want to pressure you, to take advantage.  He’s always a gentleman.

Emma felt a rush of affection yet again, and that alone frustrated her beyond belief.  It was February 15, the day after Valentine’s Day.  Why hadn’t the spell worn off?

Emma groaned, getting up and tossing on a sweatshirt and slippers.  Clearly she wasn’t getting anymore sleep tonight.  Better she go down to the diner and get some cocoa rather than risk waking Henry with her frustration.

“Hey, Ruby,” she said on a yawn, settling on a stool at the counter. “Hope I didn’t startle you.  I know you’re not exactly open yet.”

“Emma!” she said, stepping around the counter and giving Emma a quick hug.  “I’m a wolf, remember?  Heard you tossing and turning half the night.  Something on your mind?”

Emma buried her head in her hands.  “Got any cocoa?”

“Uh oh,” Ruby said, turning to give Emma her full attention.  “Is this a regular cocoa with cinnamon conversation or a cocoa with rum conversation?”

“Rum,” Emma mumbled.  “Definitely rum.”

Ruby tossed her a sympathetic smile, and then turned toward the kitchen.  A few minutes later she returned with a fragrant, steaming mug of cocoa.  Sliding it Emma’s way, Ruby leaned on the counter.  “Okay, spill.  What’s going on?”

“So who was it with you?”  Emma asked.  “You were here the other morning when Cupid dropped his bomb.  Who’d it make you think you love?”

Ruby gave her a strange look.  “Who’d it make me….?  Emma, what are you talking about?”

“You know, the grenade thing,” Emma said.  “I figure it made you think you were in love with the closest person to you.  Something like that?  I was just wondering who it made you love.”

“Emma, you know magic can’t make you fall in love with someone, right?”

Emma shrugged, then took a sip of her cocoa.  “I know it can’t create real love, but I mean, it was a spell, right?  Maybe it makes people think they’re feeling things they aren’t.”

Ruby’s smile was far, far too knowing.  “Hook right?”

“What?”

“After the whole love cloud thing, it was Hook that you fell for.”

Emma groaned, making Ruby smile all the wider.  “Knew it!  Knew the hot pirate had your panties in a twist.”

“Ruby!”

“Sorry,” she said, looking anything but.  “I just call ‘em like I see ‘em, and from what I see of the two of you around here everyday?  Yeah the sparks flying from the two of you could start a forest fire.”

Emma felt her cheeks flush and buried her face in her hands again.  “Ruby, it was just…”

“Don’t even think about saying it was just Cupid’s grenade,” Ruby said, “because, one, I’ve seen the two of you together since long behind that old man dropped his love bomb on everyone.  Two, like I told you, no magic can create love.  And three, you know who I suddenly fell in love with?”

Emma looked up, one eyebrow raised in question.

“No one,” Ruby said.  “Nothing changed for me at all. You know why that was?  It’s because if there is a person for me out there, they’re not here in Storybrooke.”

“But the cloud…”

Ruby shook her head.  “Emma, you and your family aren’t the only ones who talk to Belle and do research, you know.  After Cupid’s little stunt I paid her a visit too.  Wanted to know what was going on as much as you guys did.  I discovered that Cupid feeds on love.  Real love.  True love.  Fake, artificially created love would do nothing for him.  So his spell doesn’t make people feel things they don’t; it just helps people focus on the things they actually feel.”

Emma’s heart pounded.  “So you’re telling me, the hell I’ve been going through for the past day and a half…”

Ruby grinned again.  “Yep.  You, Emma Swan, have the hots for Killian Jones.  Cupid or no Cupid.  Besides, Cupid’s spell wore off several hours ago.  If it was fake, you’d have gone back to normal by now.”

Emma took one last swig of her cocoa and then carefully placed the mug back on its coaster.  “So what am I supposed to do with this now?  How am I supposed to proceed?”

Ruby shrugged, walking to the diner’s door, turning the lock and flipping the sign to open.  “That’s totally up to you, but my two cents?  Go talk to him.  Tell him what you’re thinking and feeling.  That unsettling feeling isn’t going to go away until you do.”

~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~

Killian heard a soft tentative knock on his door and he groaned, swimming reluctantly from the depths of sleep.  He’d been having such a good dream, such a beautiful dream.  He’d walked with Swan by the docks, taken her aboard the Jolly (how he missed his old girl, though he’d barter her away a million times if it meant he could be with Swan).  She’d joked with him about the size of his bunk.   He’d kissed her….

Knock, knock, knock

Killian groaned, noting from the pitch black of his window that it was not even dawn yet.  He hoped whoever was out there had a bloody good reason for disturbing him.

Tossing on a white undershirt and flannel sleep pants, Killian padded to the door and threw it open.

His irritated “What?” died on his lips when he saw his visitor.  Bathed in the soft light of Granny’s hallway, her hair soft against her shoulders, Swan looked like an angel.  Killian resisted the urge to pinch himself, half convinced he was still dreaming.

He swallowed hard.

“So, um, can I come in?” she asked with a self-conscious little smile.

Killian snapped his mouth shut and quickly stepped back, gesturing with his hook for her to enter while he flicked the switch that bathed his room with light.

“Of course, love,”  he said quickly.  “Please, have a seat.”

She looked around and sat on the edge of the second double bed in his room, the one he had not used, and then looked down, picking at a loose thread on the counterpane.

She’s nervous.

Killian’s curiosity was piqued.  Why had she come to him at this time of the morning?  What could have her so rattled?

“So,” he said finally, when it was clear she wasn’t going to speak first, “what brings you to my room, love?”

“It’s just…”  She started, before abruptly standing and turning toward the door.  “Ugh, this was a mistake.  I’m sorry; I shouldn’t have disturbed you.”

He rose quickly, stepping between her and the door.  “Please, Swan.  Something’s obviously on your mind.  Share your burden with me?”

She took a deep breath, and then nodded.

“It’s the whole Cupid love spell thing,” she said finally.

Killian suddenly looked aside, hand absentmindedly coming up to scratch behind his ear.  “Love, you needn’t say anything.  I’ve no wish to pressure you, no wish to hear a declaration bourne  artificially out of a spell…”

“That’s just it,” she said, stepping into his space, placing her hands on his arms.  “I...I...it didn’t go away.  The spell wore off yesterday, right?  I’m still feeling everything I was feeling then.”

He looked at her quickly, eyes widened, hope blooming within him in spite of himself.  “What are you saying, love?”

“I’m saying...look, I don’t know what I’m saying,” she said, taking his hand and pulling him until they were seated, facing each other on his bed.  “But there’s, there’s something there between us.  I’m really glad it was you that found Henry and me in New York.  I’m glad you came back to Storybrooke with me.  I, I feel better with you beside me.  I’m grateful that you’re there to listen when, you know, things get to be too much.  I can’t guarantee I won’t get scared again, and I can’t guarantee I won’t, I don’t know, build walls again, but I just wanted to let you know, at least once, that if we ever just have a peaceful moment in this town...maybe I’d be willing to see where things could go.”

His heart turned over, and he reached up to cup her cheek, couldn’t help himself.  Smiling gently, he leaned down and kissed her softly, almost reverently.  “Swan,” he breathed on a sigh.  “You’ve no need to thank me.  By your side is where I’ll always wish to be.”

“Good,”  she said softly before leaning in to return his kiss with interest.

~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~

He stopped outside Granny’s Bed and Breakfast and looked up at the single illumined window.  Breathing deeply, he smiled to himself.  His harvest was complete, and what a harvest it had been!

Passing the same shop he’d passed on his way into town he took a look at his reflection.  He stood tall and strong, skin smooth and youthful, hair sandy and neatly combed.  He was young and handsome once more.

He started walking toward the edge of town but then stopped, thinking better of it.  It was true what they said about this town; it was overflowing with love.  Perhaps he’d stick around for a while.

[odditycircus-2002]

Mortal Kombat Masterlist (Updated)

Warning: I wrote a lot with Shang Tsung and Baraka. Also heavily features Medusa!Reader.

Old Era:

Medusa!Reader x Shang Tsung I

Medusa!Reader x Shang Tsung II

Medusa!Reader x Shang Tsung Aftermath

Shang Tsung's Death

Medusa!Reader Intro Walk, Friendship, Fatalities, etc

Medusa!Reader Intros I

Medusa!Reader Intros II

Revenant Reader x Shang Tsung

Some NSFW Headcannon with Shang Tsung with Medusa!Reader

Snake in the Garden

Saudade

New Era:

The Masked Medicine Woman

Medusa!Reader Story Mode I

Medusa!Reader Story Mode II

Medusa!Reader Story Mode III

Medusa!Reader Story Mode IV

Medusa!Reader Story Mode V

Medusa!Reader Story Mode VI

Medusa!Reader Story Mode VII

Medusa!Reader! Story Mode VIII

Medusa!Reader Story Mode IX

Medusa!Reader Story Mode X

Medusa!Reader Story Mode XI

Medusa!Reader Story Mode XII

Medusa!Reader Story Mode Ending

Medusa!Reader and Syzoth Platonic Headcannons

Shedding Season (Featuring Platonic Syzoth)

Holiday Fun🎄

Thanksgiving🦃

Peeping Tom 😳😳😳

Medusa!Reader Loves Chocolate

What If feat.Medusa!Reader I

What If feat.Medusa!Reader II

What If Feat. Medusa!Reader III

Why Baraka?

Some NSFW H/Cs between Medusa!Reader and Baraka

When Baraka saw You grow Wings

ANGST WITH BARAKA AND MEDUSA!READER

Medusa!Reader Eating

MK1 Intros I

Mk1 Intros II

MK1 Intros III

MK1 Intros IV

You're Beautiful (Mk1 Shang Tsung x Medusa!Reader)

Requests (Currently Closed)

(Includes both the Old Era and New Era)

🥵- Nsfw

Pet Store

Ashrah

Aesthete

Baraka

One Night (Baraka x Medusa!Reader)

Erron Black

Morrigan Reader

Fujin

"The Voice" Fujin x Reader

Kabal

Morrigan Reader

Kenshi Takahashi

Morrigan Reader

Kitana

MK1 Kitana x Female Reader

Scorpion (Hanzo Hasashi)

Mk11 Scorpion with shy s/o

Quan-Chi's Daughter Reader X Scorpion Nsfw and Sfw🥵

Widow (Quan-chi's Daughter Reader x Scorpion)

Quan-chi's Daughter x Scorpion starting a family

King and Queen

Shang Tsung

Valentine's Day with Shang Tsung💕💕💕🥵

NSFW Shang Tsung HCs🥵

Perfect Gentleman

Syzoth

Aesthete

Quan-Chi

A Terrifying Love

Eternally Loyal

Da Rules:

The characters I'm willing to write for are the men AND women of Mortal Kombat. This includes from MK9 to MK1 as that's what I am most familiar with.

I'm writing fics and h/cs, you'll have to be specific about what you want otherwise I'm choosing. No refunds!

I'm willing to write nsfw h/cs and fics.

Please be specific of what character and scenario you want, more details the better. Also the amount of characters you can request at a time is FIVE.

I will NOT, I repeat, NOT write anything that makes me uncomfortable such as sexual assault, waterworks, pedophilia, and obvious stuff like that.

Also I’m sticking with “X reader” content cause I know that best!

[star-my]

Ateez Fic Recs ☆ Tumblr

These are all available on tumblr as of April 2024. Some are likely crossposted on ao3 as well.

~Ao3 RECS HERE~

Almost all are complete works, those with “+” after WC are incomplete.

Most of these are Mature or Explicit (usually because of smut) ~ mdni ~ italicized titles rated G or T ~ Please read responsibly

If any authors tagged here wish to be removed/untagged, please lmk! | Shoutout to @thecarnivaloflies for creating their own rec list that I gathered some of these from!

OT8/Multi

☆ Arranged Marriage with Prince!Ateez scenarios by @nateezfics | Prince AU, Arranged Marriage AU | 6k

☆ Black Ocean series by @bvidzsoo | Pirate AU, Siren AU, Royalty AU | 14-40k each

☆ Hooked by @songmingisthighs | SMAU Uni AU, Fake Dating AU |

☆ boyfriend!ateez discovering you write smut scenarios by @eightmakesonebraincell | SMAU |

☆ Rating BFF!Ateez as Valentine's dates by @bluehwale | SMAU |

☆ Blue Bird by @seonghwaddict | Mafia AU | CS + JWY | 7k

☆ one more rep by @cheollipop | PT AU, Model AU | CS + JWY | 7k

☆ time of love by @desayunho | SMAU Neighbours AU | CS + JWY |

☆ Arriba by @teeskz | Uni AU | KHJ + JYH + CS + SMG + JWY | 13k

☆ Splish Splash by @atozfic | Uni AU, Athlete AU | PSH + JYH + CS + JWY | 20k

☆ Light it Up! by @cybrsan | Hala AU, Dystopian AU | KHJ + PSH | 4k

☆ Triple Threat by @huihuiheart | CS + JWY + CJH | 6k

Kim Hongjoong

☆ Wanbelyn by @songmingisthighs | SMAU, Doctor AU, Single Parent AU, Nanny AU |

☆ Marigold by @yoongiseesawmp3 | F2L Uni AU | 13k

☆ guns and roses by @baekhvuns | E2L Mafia AU | 6k

Park Seonghwa

☆ mr & mrs park by @baekhvns | E2L Mafia AU, Single Parent AU, Nanny AU | 50k

☆ bodyguard by @baekhvns | S2F2L Mafia AU, Bodyguard AU | 38k

☆ just friends by @baekhvuns | R2L Model AU | 37k

☆ paradigm + paradigm, pt 2 by @yoongiseesawmp3 | F2FWB2L Coworkers AU, Bar AU | 12k

☆ facade by @gamerwoo | S2L Arranged Marriage AU, Royalty AU, Assassin AU | 26k

Jeong Yunho

☆ your hand by @smileysuh | Coworkers AU, Tattoo Artist AU | 7k

Kang Yeosang

☆ badboy!yeosang by @ateezmakemeweep | High School AU, Bad Boy AU | 18k

☆ entropy by @in-san-ity | S2F2L Mafia AU, Single Parent AU | 21k

☆ crash landed on you by @atozfic | S2E2F2L Fake Dating AU, Chaebol AU | 20k

☆ Graveyard Dares and Bitemarks by @harmonie-writes | F2L Vampire AU | 5k

☆ Sweeter than Candy by @hwalyn | E2L SMAU (Ongoing), Uni AU |

Choi San

☆ lowkey by @arafilez | FWB2L | 3k

☆ the law of attraction by @yuyusuyu | F2L Uni AU | 3k

☆ perfidy by @in-san-ity | S2F2L Uni AU, Mafia AU | 21k

☆ Will you join me? by @kyun-toast | E2L/R2L Mafia AU, Assassin AU | 3k

☆ after all, you're my wife by @astayinwonderland | Arranged Marriage AU, Mafia AU | 3k

☆ texts with ateez (+ crush san) by @baekhvuns | SMAU

☆ the scentist by @k-hotchoisan | Neighbours AU | 5k

☆ it's you series by @minisugakoobies | BFB AU, Roommates AU, Secret Relationship AU | 9k+

☆ The Art of Climbing the Corporate Ladder series by @ennysbookstore | S2F2L Coworkers AU, Office AU | 29k

☆ Obvious + Claiming by @huihuiheart | Established Relationship AU, Hybrid/Omegaverse AU | 4k

Song Mingi

☆ preying on you tonight by @bvidzsoo | E2L Werewolf AU, Witch AU, Uni AU | 29k

☆ Genesis by @songmingisthighs | S2F2L SMAU, CEO AU |

Jung Wooyoung

☆ upstairs neighbour wooyo series by @mangiverse | SMAU R2F2L Neighbours AU |

☆ tits out by @captain-joongz | BFF2L Uni AU | 7k

☆ body talk series by @jungkxook | BFF2L Uni AU | 28k+

☆ All 'Cause of a Neck Kiss by @cocobeanncteez | F2L | 3k

☆ Two Can Play by @huihuiheart | Werewolf AU | 2k

Choi Jongho

☆ zemblanity by @in-san-ity | S2F2L Mafia AU, Bodyguard AU | 24k

[gyupremacy]

Kiss & Make Up | cs.

↳ Pairing: choi san x fem!reader

↳ Genre: smut, fluff, angst, established relationship

↳ Au(s): slice of life

↳ Rating: 18+

↳ Word Count: 2.1k

↳ Warning(s): cursing, mentions of past cheating (not san), argument, mention of parental divorce, unprotected sex, oral (f. receiving), missionary, t*tjob, dirty talk, fondling

↳ Summary: Your fiancé San hasn't been as active in the preparations for your upcoming wedding, and it's starting to get to you. Tensions rise after an argument about the subject.

↳ a/n: Hi, everyone! April's been a pretty busy month for me, with preparing for finals and personal conflicts, but I'm back with another fic. Thanks to @hwasrie for beta-ing and @snoozeagustd for creating the banner!

This is my submission for k-vanity’s "Idols Over Flowers" event.

Main flowers: roses (romance), violets (angst), marigold (hurt comfort), fresia (slice of life)

Supporting flowers: amaranthus (marriage & co)

Greenery: myrtle (soul mates)

Ribbons: band of satin (weddings)

╔══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╗

"What do you think of this, baby?" you said, turning the bridal magazine around to show your fiancé.

"I think it looks beautiful! I like the style," San responded, barely glancing at the photo.

He was more focused on you, more importantly, how you were straddling his waist in the bed as you frantically flipped through pages.

"Come on! You already said that about that last one I showed you," you huffed in frustration.

"Well, I'm sorry, Y/N. I just don't see why you're dead set on finding a dress so soon," San remarked.

He had a point, whether you admitted it or not. He proposed to you on Valentine's Day, and you still hadn't made a decision on the date you'd tie the knot.

"It's not just about finding a dress. It's about finding the dress," you began.

"Many girls dream about their wedding day, and I'm one of them."

You sighed dreamily, looking at a ballgown style that caught your interest. Seeing the expensive price, you quickly moved onto the next page.

"Well… if it means anything, I think you would look really sexy in a mermaid gown," San chuckled.

"One that accentuates your body really nicely."

His voice went down to a whisper, and he soon sat up in the bed. Soft kisses were placed from your shoulder to your neck.

"Sannie… don't start," you warned.

"What? I can't imagine what my gorgeous bride will look like on our wedding day?" His hands trailed down your hips, then down your legs.

"As much as I would like to spend the resting of the morning making sweet music with you, I need to take a shower," you laughed, getting up to go to the bathroom.

"Maybe I could j-" San began before you stopped him mid sentence.

"Don’t even think about it, Choi."

After the long shower, you got dressed in a crop top and leggings since you were about to do your daily yoga routine.

San was in the kitchen making breakfast for the both of you (an omelet for him and a pastry for you). He topped it all off with some fresh fruit on your plate and green tea.

"My baby is back from the shower!" San beamed.

"And my baby made me breakfast," You gave him a kiss before grabbing the plate off the counter.

He sat beside you and began to feed you the pieces of fruit from your plate. You made it a point to purposely suck on his finger after you finished one bite.

"Mmm… so delicious," you moaned out.

"You're playing with fire, princess," San whispered.

"Let's hope you don't get burned then," you teased, going to take a bite out of your pastry.

The rest of the time was spent completely devouring the meal your fiancé prepared, but you were still thinking about the conversation earlier.

You and San had arguments like any other couple, though you didn't want to call what happened earlier with the dress an "argument", but it did bother you that a proper date for the nuptials wasn't set.

"San? About the dress…" you were about to tell him that it was fine that he wasn't as enthusiastic about it as you were, but was stopped by him speaking.

"Really, Y/N? We're still on about that damn dress?" San laughed, wanting not to focus on it.

"What? No, I was going to say that it was cool that you didn't see it as much of a priority right now," you said.

"Almost like you don't see the wedding being a priority."

You muttered that last part, not thinking he would hear it. You didn't actually mean this, but you were so frustrated at his seemingly lack of commitment towards preparations that you needed to get it out.

"Excuse me?" San said, dropping his fork on the counter.

"Did you just say that I don't think this wedding is a priority?"

"It certainly feels like it. Anytime I bring up wedding stuff, you clam up and avoid the conversation," you remarked, folding your arms.

"Because I thought it would be a compromise. It's like you've already made decisions on the wedding and just want me to go along with them," San gets up from the stool and walks towards the door.

"Where are you going?" you said, going towards him.

"I'm going to hang out with the boys," he responded nonchalantly.

"Of course you are," you muttered.

San didn't even waste his breath, just shutting the door on his way out. You sighed, going back to clean the dishes that were left.

Once finished, you got your yoga mat from the side of the couch and rolled it onto the floor. Hoping to clear your mind for a few hours, you turned your meditation music on, wanting to block out the rest of the world.

Hours had passed, and you had slipped out of your workout attire into something more comfortable. You grabbed your robe from the bathroom closet and put it on, tying the cloth belt around your waist.

San was scrolling through his phone on the bed. He had come home from his afternoon with the guys an hour ago, not speaking a word to you.

The tension was eating you up inside, so you walked towards the bed and made your way next to him.

"Hey," you greeted nervously.

"Hi," San said, turning to the side to look at you.

"So… um… I'm sorry about what I said earlier," you started.

"I shouldn't have said you didn't see the wedding as a priority. I just… want everything to be perfect."

You started fiddling with your fingers and took a deep breath before continuing on.

"My parents… didn't have the happiest of marriages. The loud arguments, the cheating, having to witness all of that was just - " your voice began to crack, and that's when San sat up from the bed and brought you into an embrace.

"It's okay, baby," he soothed.

"My mom deserved a better partner, a better relationship as a whole, and I try to compensate for that with our relationship," you finished.

"I know how much this wedding means to you, but you're going to burn yourself out if you keep pushing yourself to such high standards," San explained.

"You're an amazing woman, and you've been through so much to be able to become the woman I chose to spend the rest of my life with."

"San, I appreciate your words, but sometimes I feel like I can become too much for you. Almost as if I have to try and prove how much I love you to keep you satisfied," you revealed.

"Y/N… never in the entirety of our relationship have I not been satisfied or happy," he assured.

"You've made me a better man, and making a relationship work is a joint effort."

"Your feelings are valid, but if you ever feel that there is some form of miscommunication, you can always come to me," San said, bringing your hands in his and pressing a kiss on them.

"I love you, Y/N. I shouldn't have spoken to you like that earlier," San apologized.

"I have too much respect for you and our relationship to let it go because of our feelings at that moment."

You began to cry tears of happiness, feeling all the love and adoration the man in front of you had for yourself. He brought his thumb up to wipe them away.

"Perfect is boring, my love. Just being with you is enough," San smiled lovingly, showing his signature dimples.

"Choi San, you're my everything," you responded, bringing your hands up to hold his face.

You both lean in close and kiss each other with such palpable affection. San brought his hands down to your waist, pressing his hands firmly against your hips.

"I can't help myself whenever I'm around you, Y/N," San whispered.

"You're so gorgeous, and I can't wait until you're mine forever."

Butterflies formed in your stomach, both from his words and the way he was kissing down your neck. His hands wandered your body some more, grabbing your butt and carefully placing you against the pillows.

San repositioned himself, straddling your body for a moment before becoming eye level with the belt on your robe.

"What is my princess hiding underneath here, huh?" San teased.

San bit his lip, looking at your bashful demeanor, making it his mission to find out what was underneath. He untied the robe hastily, soon looking at the purple lace lingerie on your body.

"Surprise," you whispered out, watching his eyes widen before an all too familiar grin appeared.

"Oh, baby… you don't know what you've gotten yourself into," San said, grazing his hand over your underwear.

His thumb rubbed your sweet spot, causing you to let out soft whimpers until he slid the lace garment to the side. San kissed your slit before diving his tongue inside.

"Fuck! Sannie, that feels so good!" You moaned.

San giggled as a response, continuing to lap you up like his life depended on it. He hummed against your lips, licking your juices and keeping his hands firm on your thigh.

You ran your fingers through his hair and leaned your head back in pleasure.

"I must be doing an amazing job if you're making those sounds, baby," San smiled, taking in your blissed out appearance.

"Y-You could s-say that," you managed to moan out as he continued working wonders with his tongue.

San brought his lips to your bundle of nerves, taking his time to suck it and watch you unravel for him.

"You're about to come, baby? Let it out all for me," San said softly.

"Oh shit! I'm so close!" You screamed out before your orgasm surged through your entire body, causing you to shake underneath your fiancé.

As you came down from your daze, San tapped your shoulder for you to switch positions with him so that you were the one on top this time.

"As much as I would love for you to return the favor, Y/N, I just want to be inside of you," San moaned, gesturing to the noticeable bulge in his sweatpants.

You obliged, pulling down his sweatpants and underwear. His member sprung up and pressed a kiss to the tip before sliding your underwear down.

You guided your slit over his and slid down on him, tilting your head back once you feel him inside of you. San grabbed hold of your hips, watching as you bounced on top of him.

"Yes! Right there!" You moaned.

"Feels so good, baby! Ride it out!" San grunted, letting you control the pace.

He placed his hands behind you, unhooking your bra, letting it fall to the floor.

"I can never get tired of these," San said, fondling your chest.

"Oh yeah? Then how about this?" You stopped grinding on him and moved to jerk his member.

You licked up and down his shaft, taking the tip into your mouth and savoring all of your juices. San thought he'd burst at the sight, but that's when you caught him by surprise.

Taking a hold of his member, you slid it in between your chest and squeezed them snugly together. Your fiancé's eyes began to roll back in pleasure.

"Mmm… they're so soft and pretty. Just like that!" San groaned.

He was leaking from the tip, and you knew he was about to come, so you increased the speed of strokes, paired with the stimulation from your cleavage.

"Y/N, I'm about to come!" San gasped out until the clear liquid oozed out, landing on your chest.

You made a show of sticking your tongue out and lapping up whatever you could reach.

"Did you like that, baby?" You smiled, moving to sit up on your knees.

"I think you know the answer to that," San said, running his fingers through his hair and catching his breath.

You got up and grabbed a washcloth to wipe yourself off as he put the rest of his clothes on. When you returned to the bed, San snuggled up with you and kissed your forehead.

"September 16th." He said abruptly.

"Huh?" You asked.

"That's the date I want to make you mine," he reached out to caress your cheek.

Your eyes lit up with excitement as you couldn't stop picturing what the day would look like.

"Guess I'll have to continue on with finding the dress," you laughed.

"And the flowers, the venue, the cake, the time…" San said, counting his fingers to prove his point.

"You'll be helping me every step of the way, San," you kissed him, getting up once more to go into the shower.

You throw a glance back at San, giggling at his confused expression.

"What?" San questioned.

"Well, aren't you coming in?"

╚══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╝

© gyupremacy, 2023. All rights reserved. 

[naffeclipse]

Naff.. we'll get cute and fluffy chapters/drabbles after the reveal right? Domestic times and cozy times with the boys and little hunter, right? ..We're getting those? ...Right?

After the valentine special I've felt like I'm.. missing something.. like there's a hole in my soul that needs to be filled..

(all of this is meant as a joke but also not really at all fhdjdhfjd XD)

Hehehe, oh yeah! It will be in the main fic, and once it's finished, I'm thinking of doing something like Bonus Episodes for drabbles and other little moments in CS ♥

[yanania]

IF ANY OF YALL KNOW THE TITLE OF TJE FIC WHWRE BULLY!EREN GAVE VALENTINE GIFTS TO READER THEN FUCKING HER IN A CLASSROOM WHILE MIKASA WATCHES THEM BEHIND THE DOOR AND MIKASA SAW RHE GIFTS THAT SHE THOUGHT WERE FOR HER CS SHE AND EREN WERE DHOPPING TOGETHER THE OTHER DAY plsplsplsplsssss i need it

there was a pt. 2 abt mika tryna win carla’s favor so her chances w/ eren would increase or smth but turns out reader and eren were already at carlas house before mikasa so carla and eren tries to make mika excluded as possible

[snowbellewells]

CS Fic Rec Monday: "The Little Shop Across the Street" by: @lenfaz

The fourth and final rec for this Monday morning is a one shot written by @lenfaz for a Valentines event some time back. It believe this story has been around quite a while, but I only recently discovered it and was absolutely touched by its sweetness and charm. In it, Killian is a florist and Emma is opening a tattoo parlor across the street from his flower shop. She comes in to get practice at drawing flowers, and they begin to form a bond that is genuine and lovely. I don't want to give too much more away, but if you (like me) have missed this one up until now, give it a read. It's wonderful! :)

"The Little Shop Across the Street" by: @lenfaz

[sabraeal]

I hope you will take this as a fun opportunity and not an annoyance but I was wondering if you had any book recs? I generally read fantasy and have been trying to break into Adult Lit over YA (while still liking YA and hoping to find adult novels with the same engaging settings and brisk pacing but with more advanced prose). Really liked Spinning Silver and Uprooted by Naomi Novik this year, and my favorites of your fics are Seven Suitors (obligatory), pacific rim au, and the snow queen one. I’ve never really read romance before but I’m willing to give it a try, especially if there’s other genre elements at play as well. Do you have any directions you could point me? I appreciate it!

Oh, I always love giving book recs, and thank you so much for giving me some preferences because it's so much easier to direct people when I know what they already like!

My current favorite YA author right now is Frances Hardinge, who writes truly magnificent prose and absolutely amazing worlds. If you like All That Remains, you will probably love the emotional devastation that is The Lie Tree, and a few of my other favorites are Gullstruck Island and Cuckoo Song. If you are a fan of Terry Pratchett, you also can't go wrong with her Fly By Night duology. Genevieve Valentine is another YA author I highly recommend; Mechanique is probably my favorite, but the Persona series is also top notch, and The Girls at the Kingfisher Club has a vibe that cannot be beat.

I haven't yet read Spinning Silver but Uprooted is also a fav of mine; I have a deep love of fairy tale retellings, or stories written to be like fairy tales. On that thread I definitely recommend the Winternight trilogy by Katherine Arden (I have a few quibbles with the story, but the writing is solid and the first book had me captivated for a good 3/4ths of it), The Orphan's Tales by Catherynne M Valente, plus A Curse Dark as Gold by Elizabeth C Bunce (her Thief Errant series also lives RENT FREE in my head at all times).

Seven Suitors was fleshed out with Regency mores in mind, inspired by by historical mystery novels I read in that time period, plus some fantasy with more rigid social structure. The Crown & Court duet by Sherwood Smith is something I would consider formative for my writing in that quarter. For something actually regency set, though definitely not the same genre, I would recommend the Sebastian St Cyr series by CS Harris, which are mysteries set in Georgian London, featuring a brooding hero who starts off with an equally brooding, star-crossed actress as a lover...only to have the rug pulled out beneath him by the daughter of his father's long-standing political rival.

My scifi chops are rather thin-- I love the genre but I find lots of the deeper cuts here get too info-dumpy for me on the hard science level-- but I can definitely recommend The Expanse series by James SA Corey (as well as pretty much anything Daniel Abraham writes in the fantasy genre)

As for All That Remains, there are several extremely painful fantasy series I could recommend, because I love having my heart torn out, stamped on, and then taped back in. Guy Gavriel Kay is a great writer for that-- I suggest starting at Lions of Al-Rassan and then working your way forward through that setting by publishing date. The aforementioned Daniel Abraham also is amazing at this; The Seasons Quartet is a decades-spanning series that will truly make your tear out your hair at the end of each book. NK Jemisin is also amazing, The Broken Earth trilogy is where I would start out for intense heart-stomping.

[kazoosandfannypacks]

"Wildflowers" by kazoosandfannypacks

Pairing: Beauty and the Puppet (Belle/August) Rating: General Word Count: (5K) Summary: August gives a wildflower to Belle, and upon seeing her smile at this token starts getting a flower for her every day from the nearby flower shop, which he is unaware is run by Belle's father, Moe. Moe has never met his daughter's friend August before, but is sure that he's no good. However, he grows quite fond of the stranger who comes in to buy a flower for his girl every day, unaware that his new favorite customer is his deeply despised August. Tags: au, fluff, beauty and the puppet, flower shop au, oneshot, the shuttle, flowers Author's notes: What's this? Kazzy's posting another fic today? And she's referring to herself in the third person and asking rhetorical questions again? Is she trying to communicate effectively but also so terribly rambly? It's more likely than you think! Happy Valentine's Day to my readers! I've honestly been blown away by the amount of support this ship I'm 'pioneering' has gotten, and I hope to see many more fics someday! I couldn't let the day go by without posting something for this little ship we have here, so I've decided to share this completed oneshot I've been hanging onto! This one was written as in such away that if you've never seen ouat, you wouldn't be confused by any of the content in it (and as such, it doesn't include any fairy tale stuff,) but I also haven't contradicted the canon in any way other than the obvious. I also was also initially going to post it as a chaptered work, but felt like the chapters were too short and went with a oneshot instead. I loved my chapter titles though, so I've decided to leave them in it :) Happy Valentine's (or whenever you're reading this) day! Taglist: @zahara  @kmomof4  @jonesfandomfanatic  @booksteaandtoomuchtv  @jrob64  @tiganasummertree  @anmylica  @teamhook  @undercaffinatednightmare  @gingerchangeling  @lonelyspectator  @caught-in-the-filter  @ultraluckycatnd  @cs-rylie @silver-the-phoenix @kanerallels @accidental-spice @poptart-cat-78 [if you’d like to be added to or removed from this list, hmu in my dms or askbox!] Also on Ao3!

Daisies

 One of the best things about a small town like Storybrooke was having a library within walking distance. August had started going to the library for research for the book he was working on, but he soon found other reasons to stop in- picking up a book on woodworking for his dad, helping a friend's kid with a school project, surrounding himself with books for inspiration, volunteering with programs at the library- or, more often, just to say "good morning" to the lovely librarian, Belle, and to keep her company on slower business days. He'd spent many an afternoon discussing favorite literary themes and authors together.

 August was on his way to the library, typewriter in hand, taking in the fresh Storybrooke air. The sun was shining, the sky was a perfect shade of blue- one that almost reminded him of Belle's eyes- and was spotted with clouds.

 August looked down at a crack in the sidewalk and noticed a daisy growing. He picked it, almost without thinking. He twirled it between his fingertips, almost feeling inspired by the daisy, like a plucked wildflower was some kind of poem in and of itself.

 And as he walked into the library, he almost wondered what he should do with the little flower, but when he saw Belle working at her desk, clearly frazzled by something and not having the best day- he knew what to do with it.

 "Good morning, Belle." He leaned on the counter.

 She barely looked up from her computer. "Oh, hey August."

 He handed her the daisy.

 "Aww, what's this?" Belle asked.

 "Picked it on the way over." August said. "It, uh, made me smile, and you look like you needed a smile today too."

 "I did."

 "It was a good thing she needed a smile,"

August thought, noticing that one crept across her face as she placed the daisy in the water bottle on her desk. What he hadn't accounted for was that her smile did what he'd done just done for her- it gave him a smile too.

 So when August walked away from her desk and went to his usual back room to study, he stopped first in the natural sciences section to take a peek at a flower field guide or two.

Sweetpeas

 Belle walked into the Game of Thorns flower shop with a book for her father tucked under her arm.

 Moe looked up from the bouquet he was arranging. "There's my little sweetpea. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

 "Hi, dad." Belle gave Moe a hug, then handed him the book she'd brought in with her. "I figured you might wanna peruse this new flower guide we got in, before I log it in the system and you only get two weeks to read it."

 "That's very thoughtful of you." Moe said, looking over the cover and flipping through a few of the pages. "I'll have to leaf through it later."

 "How's business?" Belle asked.

 "Oh, you know how it goes here," her father set the book down on the counter, "business is blooming."

 Belle rolled her eyes at her dad's joke.

 "How are things going at the library?" Moe asked.

 "Great." Belle said, "we've been getting a lot of traffic recently. August's really come up with a lot of cool new programs that get people involved…."

 At the mention of August's name, her father groaned.

 "August?" Moe asked. "That freeloader still hanging around?"

 "Not freeloader," Belle tried to reason, despite having this same dead end conversation with her father many times, "freelance writer."

 "Doesn't change the fact that he's in his late thirties and still lives with his dad, so what's the difference?"

 Her father was skeptical of any guy she mentioned, especially after her recent breakup, but he seemed to have a particular animosity toward August, remembering only the worst details of her accounts of him.

 "Besides, he's just a friend." Belle pointed out. It wasn't that she didn't want there to be something between her and August, but she was still waiting on him to make the first move- though the daisy he'd given her that morning was a good sign.

 "He's just nice guy who volunteers at the library," Belle continued, "while working on his latest novel."

 "Just like the last one was just…"

 "This is different." Belle sighed with a smile. "I think you'd really like him, once you got to know him. You might find you have a lot in common."

 "With motorcycles and black leather jackets?" Moe scoffed.

 "Everyone in town wears leather jackets these days, dad."

 "Well, I don't." Moe said.

 Belle shook her head and changed the topic, knowing that there were a lot of things more important than discussing their compatibility with a guy who, for now, was just a friend.

Crocuses

 Moe leafed through the book Belle had brought him last night- a simple guidebook on local wildflowers, every other page beautifully illustrated with the flowers its opposite mentioned.  It really had been thoughtful of Belle to let him look through it before she logged it. He had raised a thoughtful and loving daughter- now if only she could find a guy who was thoughtful and loving enough to compliment that!

 He was in the middle of reading about lady slipper orchids when he heard the door open, and saw a young man walk in, in the apparently normal-these-days attire of a leather jacket. He wasn't one of Moe's usual customers, but new business was always welcome.

 "What can I do for you?" Moe asked.

 "I'm looking to buy a flower." The stranger said.

 Moe looked around. "You came to the right place. Just one flower?"

 "For now." The man sighed. "There's this girl..."

 "Ah." Moe smiled, knowing young love was a great source of income for his shop.

 "We're not, like, a thing or anything," the customer started perusing the flowers on display. "I do like spending time with her a lot though. Do you have any flowers that don't look like they came from a flower shop?"

 Florists, like any expert, are used to hearing weird and unintelligent questions from those less experienced in the subject matter- but this question still caught Moe off guard.

 "You'll have to be a bit more specific."

 The young man laughed a little. "Yesterday she was having a bad day, and I'd picked a daisy on the way to see her, and it brightened her day. I wanna do that again for her- but subtly. Start with something small, like daisies and dandelions, work my way up to something bigger."

 Moe smiled. If only his daughter could find someone as thoughtful as this young man! Either way, it was nice to see that old fashioned romance wasn't dead yet in her generation.

 "I think I have just the thing." Moe walked over to a nearby bouquet and pulled out a crocus. "Crocuses are one of the first flowers that crop up in the spring- a sign of hope, and new beginnings. They can also represent cheerfulness, especially that of a young love."

 "Sounds perfect." The other man said, reaching for his wallet. "How much will that cost me?"

 Moe smiled and handed it to him. "First one's on the house."

 "Sir-"

 "I didn't like how that one looked in that arrangement anyways." Moe said. "Besides, I'm sure I'll be seeing more of you, if that girl knows what's good for her."

 But the guest still didn't put his wallet away.

 "I can't give this to her for nothing." He said. "This one didn't even cost me the effort of bending down to pick it. Diminishing the value of the gift cheapens the value of the recipient."

 His fancy words were compelling, as well as noble, and he could already tell he was going to get along great with this soon-to-be regular customer.

 "I'll tell you what," Moe said, "I'll charge you for an assorted dozen today, and then we'll be squared away for the next eleven you come in for."

 The stranger smiled. "Sounds like a deal."

Violets

 August took a second to stop and smell the crocus before entering the library. Belle sat at her computer again, seemingly having a better day than yesterday. She definitely didn't look as frazzled, to say that much.

 And as August got closer, he noticed the daisy still sat in the bottle by her computer.

 August hid the new flower behind his back, then approached her desk.

 "Good morning, August." Belle said.

 "Morning, Belle." August handed her the flower. "Brought a friend for the daisy."

 Her face brightened up in a way he wished he could find words to describe.

 "Thank you." She arranged it next to the daisy in the bottle. "Really brightens up the place."

 "You have no idea." August thought, trying to capture her smile in a word in his mind, but finding himself unable to come up with a single combination of words that did it justice.

 "You're welcome." August said.

 He found himself staring at her a moment longer as she turned to her computer, but when she turned back to him, he pretended to be reading a poster on the wall, then nodded at it and walked away to get back to work on his latest novel.

 But before he disappeared down the hallway, he glanced back at Belle, who was smiling at the flowers in the water bottle. August was suddenly even more thankful he'd paid ahead for the whole dozen from the florist that morning, because he couldn't wait to see eleven more of those priceless smiles from her.

 In fact, he would've wished he bought a hundred more dozens of flowers for her, if it meant he'd get to see that smile a hundred dozen more times.

Bluebells

 With every day that August brought in a new flower for her, Belle started feeling more and more appreciated by him- but she also grew all the more suspicious.

 A daisy growing in a crack in the sidewalk? Sure, it happens all the time. A crocus? Those ones grew all over the place in Storybrooke, as did the violet he brought her the next day and the terragon he brought in the day after that. It was when August brought in a couple sprigs of sage, followed by a delicate pink lotus that Belle realized what was going on. Either August had stolen them from unsuspecting gardens- which, despite her father's ungrounded suspicions, was highly unlikely- or he had bought them from a local florist- possibly even from her father's own shop.

 But that really was the puzzle. Her father couldn't stand the mention of August's name, let alone the thought of his presence. Certainly, he wouldn't entertain any scheme like this- whether August's intentions were to win her affections or to just be a good friend to her- unless he wasn't aware she was the girl August was buying flowers for- or perhaps he didn't know this was August, least of all the same August he'd been so adamantly opposed to.

 Belle didn't have time to ponder much more on her hunch, because who should enter at that moment other than her favorite visitor.

 "Good morning, Belle." August said, hands behind his back.

 "Good morning, August." Belle smiled. She could tell there was some air between them, some mutual feeling, a feeling that not only did she know he was going to give her a flower today, but also that he knew she knew he had a flower for her today.

 He pulled a plucked bluebell stalk out from behind his back and handed it to her.

 "For me?" Belle asked, half jokingly, "what a surprise." 

 With a smug smile, he replied with "You're welcome."

 She took the flower from him and smelled it, then tried to place it in her now very full water bottle.

 "Looks like I'm running out of room here," Belle said, "not that that's necessarily a bad problem to have."

 "These bluebells are best kept underwater anyways, or so I hear." August said.

 "Oh?" Belle smiled. "And why's that?"

 "If the bluebells were really underwater," August said, "they might begin to compare with the blueness of your eyes."

 Belle blushed a little, not just because of his compliment, but because she recognized "bluebells underwater" as an obscure literary allusion.

 "So I take it you're a fan of Burnett's less popularized works?" Belle asked.

 August smiled in the charming way he often did when Belle said something smart, when he seemed impressed with her.

 "'Hers were the colour of the sea," August quoted, "on a day when the sun shines on it, and there are large fleece-white clouds floating in the blue above."

 "They sparkled." Belle finished the quote, "and were often like bluebells underwater."

 August's own bluebells-under-water eyes sparkled at hers.

 "It's rare that I've met someone who's even heard of The Shuttle." Belle said.

 "Had to read it for school." August said, still not looking away from her, "But I've been thinking about that phrase a lot recently."

 "Yeah." Belle found herself entangled in his gaze, "I've always loved that description."

 "I like it a lot more, as of recent." August said.

 Belle nodded. "Me too."

 Having been temporarily lost in whatever had just happened, Belle quickly shook herself back to reality.

 "I'd better get back to this indexing." Belle said, placing her hand on a pile of books.

 "Need any help?" August asked.

 "No, I think I got it." Belle said. "I can't have you doing all my work for me."

 "Well, I'm around if you need me." August said.

 "I know where to find you." Belle said.

 "Always." August walked away to his regular back room, and Belle looked at her almost overflowing bottle of flowers, wondering if her suspicions of where he got them from could be true, if her father really could've sponsored that moment between herself and the man he claimed so ardently to despise.

Tulips

 After the bluebell had come a dahlia for beauty and dignity,  followed by a hydrangea, which represented gratitude at being understood, and then a purple lily for admiration and a zinnia for his daily remembrance of her. Yesterday August had given her a yellow tulip, which Moe had told him meant "there is sunshine in your smile,"  and August was excited to see what Moe had come up with for today. He was always so helpful in picking just the right next flower, almost like he was as excited about and invested in this as August was.

 It made sense though- to work in a flower shop, you probably have to be at least a little bit of a matchmaker, if not a busybody. Flower shops were at the heart of so many stories- of falling in love, of slowing the fall out of it, of anniversaries, and funerals, and weddings. No one had ever walked into a flower store for casual reasons- not even August when he'd first purchased that crocus almost two weeks ago. If this relationship did work out, he'd have Moe the Flower Shop Guy to thank for it.

 August smiled as he walked into the flower shop, the mixed floral scents in the air almost familiar by now. Though he never stayed long, it had become routine for him to stop in and pick up each day's flower, and it was starting to feel all the more regular to him.

 "Ah, there's my favorite customer." Moe called from behind the counter.

 "I must be doing something right," August said, "if I can come in here ten days straight without buying anything and still be your favorite."

 "Familiarity makes the heart grow fonder." Moe said.

 August squinted, then corrected, "That's distance. Familiarity breeds contempt."

 Moe squinted, clearly a bit confused, but then broke into a laugh.

 "What've you got for me today?" August asked.

 "For your twelfth flower- thirteenth if you count the daisy-" Moe pulled a red flower out from behind the counter, "a carnation."

 "Magnificent." August said, as he took the flower. "It's beautiful; she'll love it."

 "I take it she'd love it if it weren't beautiful too." Moe said.

 "Why?"

 "Because it comes from you." He said. "From the heart."

 "I don't know if she cares that much," August said, "they're just flowers."

 "That's the funny thing about flowers," Moe said, "If that girl had seen the daisy on the sidewalk, she wouldn't have cared about it. But you cared enough to give it to her, and what happened?"

 August smiled. "It's wilting in the same jar as the rest of them."

 "The gift doesn't matter as much as the gifter." Moe said. "That's where the value comes from."

 Just the idea that Belle didn't just like his flowers because they were flowers- but because he was the one who gave them to her- warmed his heart. August almost laughed as he thought about how much he'd treasure it if Belle picked a daisy and gave it to him too. He'd want that gift to last forever, and though he didn't know how Belle really felt, he had a feeling she felt the same about his flowers.

 And as August said goodbye and left the flower shop, he started thinking about what flowers to get her tomorrow.

Carnations

 Moe was beginning to wonder if his new friend would stop by the flower shop today. He'd picked up his last flower of the dozen yesterday, and was later than usual this morning.

 But he'd come in every day up until then, dedicated and committed to getting a new flower for this girl every day. Moe didn't have time to wonder about every one of his customers or every one of their recipients, but he'd taken a shine to this one in particular.

 "If only my daughter could find someone like him!" Moe thought. He hadn't seen Belle since she'd dropped off his book, but he was sure right now that that obnoxious freeloading August whom she spoke so highly of was trying to weasel his way closer and closer to her.

 But Moe smiled when he saw his favorite customer walk in anyways.

 "Wasn't sure I'd see you back today, friend!" he told the young man.

 "Came to pick up another dozen." He shrugged with a smile.

 "Another daily assorted pick?" Moe asked.

 "Not quite." August said. "A dozen roses- red ones, if you've got them. I'm gonna ask her out for a date tonight."

 "That's wonderful, my boy!" Moe wasn't just happy about the expensive bouquet he was about to sell, but was excited for this customer, feeling an almost fatherly pride towards him.

 "Yeah," the customer scratched the back of his neck, "I don't know if she'll say yes, but there's always hope."

 "Atta boy," Moe said, "and if she doesn't, I could always set you up with my daughter."

 The younger man laughed. "I appreciate the offer, but I don't think she could hold a candle to my girl."

 "I'd doubt that." Moe smiled. "My daughter is the most intelligent, selfless, and beautiful young lady alive."

 The customer shrugged, "I'll have to agree to disagree on that one."

 As offended as Moe's fatherly pride could've been, he understood the euphoria of blossoming love that this man must be feeling- it almost reminded him of himself, of how he felt when he first met his now-late wife, and the other man's remark was endearing.

 "Well then," Moe said, "I'll ring up those roses for you- on one condition."

 "What's that?"

 "Stop by on your way out tonight, if you can," Moe said, "I'd love to meet this girl of yours."

 "You got it," He said. "I'm sure she'd love to meet you as well."

Roses

 August crossed the street to the library, holding the bouquet behind his back. Maybe it was too much, maybe it was too soon, but maybe he couldn't stand falling in love with her for another moment, not without knowing if she felt the same way.

 He walked into the library and tried to act normal.

 "Good morning, August." Belle smiled.

 "Morning, Belle." August said. He leaned on her desk, because, quite frankly, he almost felt too nervous to stand upright.

 "I take it you've got another flower today?" Belle asked.

 "Close, but not quite." August took a deep breath. He pulled the bouquet of roses from behind his back as he asked, "Would you like to go out tonight?"

 Belle looked at the roses with a shocked expression, which almost made August wonder if he shouldn't've even considered this in the first place.

 "Oh, August," Belle bit her lip in a futile attempt to hold back a smile. "I'd love to."

 "Great," he handed her the bouquet.

 Now that she'd said yes to his invitation, he expected his heart to start beating at a regular rate again, instead of this rush he'd been feeling since he laid eyes on her that morning. But even then he couldn't shake that feeling, not while she got up and took the flowers from him, her hands grazing against his, her eyes getting lost in his.

 August reasoned that she didn't need both hands to take the roses from him, and as her hand brushed past his, his pursued hers. He wrapped his fingers around her hand and felt her fingers cling to his thumb.

 She gently laid the roses on her desk, and, without breaking the eye contact they were locked in, took his other hand in hers.

 And so they both stood there for more than a moment, holding both of each others' hands across the desk. August wasn't sure if he wanted to thank her or lean forward and kiss her, or maybe some combination of the two. But instead, for a moment, he just stared into her eyes, hoping he could communicate with a look what he'd never been able to put into words.

 Only after that moment did he lean forward and kiss her cheek, the only thing more wonderful than the feeling of her face under his lips being her flustered smile in response to it.

 "I'll pick you up here at seven?" August confirmed.

 "Sounds perfect." Belle nodded.

 August squeezed Belle's hands before he let them go, then left the library, walking backwards so he wouldn't have to take his eyes off her until he was out the door.

 But as soon as he was outside, he pumped his fist in excitement and let an unrestrainably whispered "Yes!" slip out of his mouth.

Lilies

 Belle had closed the library a little early that night to get ready for her date, and now sat at a chair in front of her mirror, giving her makeup its finishing touches. She glanced down at the vase of roses she'd put on her dresser.

 She was almost sure August had bought them from her father's shop- the arrangement had his personal touch written all over them, as did the cellophane August had given them to her wrapped in.

 Her father must not have known that his newest regular customer was her favorite regular visitor from the library- otherwise she would've been sent quite a few disgruntled text messages from her dad about it.

 She almost considered asking August or her father if either of them knew, but at the same time, she appreciated the poetry of the whole ordeal. Perhaps, in his attempts to further woo Belle, he'd taken great strides in winning over her father as well.

 And besides, it would be exciting to see how this story played out. How long would it take August to realize that he'd bought two dozen flowers from her father? How long until her father realized August had already begun to work his charm on him? How long until she inevitably spilled the beans- and there were so many ways she could do it too!

 Belle smiled a smile so wide she was almost laughing as she looked in the mirror. She'd been told she was beautiful all her life, but it was moments like these where she truly believed it- moments where she felt almost loved by someone she almost loved in return.

 She wasn't going to kid herself into saying she didn't have feelings for August, or that these feelings might be the early stages of falling in love again, but she reminded herself to fall slowly, not to give her whole heart to someone until she was sure he was ready to protect it.

 She heard the motorcycle outside and checked her watch- six minutes to seven- and looked out her window to see August on his motorcycle, holding his helmet under his arm. She leaned out the window and waved to him, and he looked up and waved at her as well. She grabbed her jacket and her purse and was out the door faster than you can say "young love."

 "You look great tonight." August said, holding out a helmet to her.

 "So do you," Belle said, taking the helmet, "but that's nothing new."

 He smiled and let out a sheepish "thanks" as they put on their motorcycle helmets and she got on the bike behind him.

 She wrapped her arms around him, and he looked back at her over his shoulder, then started the motorbike. She'd taken a ride from him once or twice, but this time was definitely more exciting.

They stopped much sooner than Belle expected- right outside the Game of Thorns. August took off his helmet and got off the motorcycle, and helped Belle do the same.

 "What are we doing here?" Belle asked.

 "I've picked out two dozen flowers for you," August said, still holding her hand, "it's your turn to pick one."

 "Alright." Belle hadn't expected her dad to find out about August yet, but it was probably for the better. 

 "Besides," August said, "the guy who runs this store was impressed that I got flowers for a dozen days, and wanted proof that whoever I was buying them for was worth it."

 Boy, would this show him!

 Belle followed August inside, holding onto his arm and trying to keep a straight face as he introduced her to her father.

 "Moe, I'd like you to meet my date." August said.

 "Ah, there's my best…" Her dad turned around to see them, and Belle laughed watching his excitement shift into confusion with a shade of disapproval, "Belle?"

 She saw out of the corner of her eye that August was trying to fit the pieces of the puzzle together, as she stepped forward and gave him a hint.

 "Hi, dad." She smiled at her father.

 "Dad?" August asked her.

 Belle turned back to him, trying to act natural. "Oh yeah. I didn't tell you my dad works here, August?"

 "August?" Her dad asked, disapproval shifting into disappointment.

 Belle almost wished she'd brought popcorn, though, because as scared as she was of her father's disapproval of August, this was the most entertaining thing she'd seen in a long time.

Edelweiss

 August had planned out every detail for that night. He made sure he had cash on hand in case of an emergency. He'd put gas in the bike, he'd brought an extra helmet, even brought a favorite poetry book with him, just in case. He'd accounted for everything- except the florist being Belle's dad- how was he supposed to plan on something like that anyways?

 From what he knew from his interactions with Moe, he was a generally agreeable man, seeming to be good natured and thoughtful- though perhaps that was just because August was his customer.

 From what he knew based on Belle's descriptions of her dad, he could be disagreeable, sometimes set in his ways, and hard to please- and judging by the frown spread across his face as he walked over, he didn't seem too pleased today.

 "So you're the 'August' I've heard so much about." Moe said. "The freeloader with the motorcycle and the leather jackets."

 As flattered as he was that Belle evidently had been talking about him a lot, August wished that she could've shared at least something better about him. He stood as tall as he could and gulped back his nerves.

 "Yes, sir." August said.

 "And what's this about anyways?" Moe cut him off. "Did you think you could win me over with pleasantries while trying to woo my daughter behind my back?"

 "What? I can assure you, I had no idea Belle was your daughter. I suppose I should've, though," August took a look at Belle, who almost looked a bit worried now, and held his hand out to her, "when you told me your daughter was the smartest, most selfless, most beautiful young lady I'd ever lay my eyes on."

 He took comfort in the reassurance he saw in Belle's eyes as she held his hand in both of hers, then turned back to her father.

 "Is that so?" He asked.

 "Sir, if I had known you were Belle's father, I wouldn't've just bought your flowers- I'd've asked for your blessing as well."

 "My blessing?" Moe asked.

 "Of course," August said, "I know we don't need your permission, and we don't know where this is going- but just to know that you approve of me, that if this relationship continues it won't drive a wedge between you two-" he glanced back at Belle, then looked back at her father, "that would mean more to me than you know."

 Moe looked at him sternly, quiet for longer than anyone would've felt comfortable in. August mustered up all the courage he had to look him in the eyes and swallow the lump in his throat. Moe reached out his hand, and almost looked like he was about to punch him in the gut- but instead this was a handshake.

 August shook his hand, firmly, trying to make the best second first impression he could.

 "Be true," Moe smiled, "and I'm sure my daughter couldn't be in better hands."

 "Thank you, sir," August said, almost surprised but definitely relieved her father had approved, "and I promise you, I will be."

 "You'd better." Moe said, and he turned back to his work, but noticed August and Belle hadn't left.

 "What're you still standing around here for?" Moe asked.

 "After you and I picked out two dozen flowers for Belle," August said, "I told her it's her turn to pick one out, if that's alright."

 "Be my guest." Moe said.

 "Do you have any sweetpeas in stock?" Belle asked.

 Moe smiled, "I thought you might ask for that." He pulled one out of a nearby bouquet. "This one's on the house."

 "Sir," August said, "with all due respect, we've talked about this."

 "Alright," Moe said, as he walked over to the cash register. August handed him a five dollar bill, and Moe gave him back his change, but more than the price listed implied.

 August double counted the money in his hand, then double checked the sign behind him, then looked back at Moe.

 "I think you gave me too much change." August said.

 "Not at all." Moe said, and in his next phrase he dispelled any doubt August had about where he now stood in Belle's father's eyes.

 "From now on, you get the family discount."

[booksteaandtoomuchtv]

Please, Be Mine (1/2)

Summary: When his best friend's long-term boyfriend cancels on her again, Killian offers to take her out. Can he use this opportunity to win her heart?

A short fic for Valentine's Day 2023. AO3 | Part 2

“Refills,” I announced, setting the wine glasses on the coffee table and settling on the unoccupied side of the couch.

Emma looked up from her phone, a frown tugged at her lips for a moment before she tucked it safely back behind her walls. She offered me the smallest smile.

I quirked an eyebrow and flashed her a smile meant to be encouraging, “Swan?”

“It's… nothing,” she murmured. She avoided my gaze, but she looked defeated.

“Love?” I spoke softly. I feared she would lock down if I reached for her, but my arm twitched with the need to hold her and provide her with some measure of comfort. Fortunately, she hadn’t noticed the movement; she was staring blankly at the paused tv programme, lost in her thoughts for the moment.

She sighed and turned toward me, “he cancelled, again.” She shook her head as if shaking off the disappointment and sadness carried in her statement.

Ah, of course.

“I don’t know why I am surprised. He has always let me down, but I thought this time would be different. Am I stupid?”

“Absolutely not,” I answered, perhaps a bit too forcefully. Neal’s a bloody idiot, though.

This time, I didn’t fight against the urge to touch her. She’d laid her head in her arms and she seemed so crushed. I reached out and rubbed her back in, what I hoped were, soothing circles. When she took in a deep breath and steadied herself, I pulled my hand back quickly - never wanting to cross the boundaries of our friendship.

“It is Valentine’s, Killian. And, I know it is a bit silly, but I was hoping this year would be…,” she trailed off, a watery smile on her face. “It was silly.” Her voice was so soft, so small somehow, that it broke something deep within me.

“Let me take you out, Swan.”

Yes, that was my voice saying those words in that order aloud, directly to her.

“It’ll be fun,” grasping at straws now, “you could point out all the ways that my attempts at seduction keep failing me. And, I promise lots of wine and no actual attempts at seducing you.”

“Killian,” her cheeks were pink with secondhand embarrassment on my behalf. I guess I hadn’t sold the idea as playfully as I’d intended. I took in a quick breath, bracing for her next words.

“That actually sounds like a good distraction. But, you’ll have to try to seduce in earnest if we are going to fix the disaster that you call a dating life.”

I rolled my eyes at her, “it isn’t a disaster, love. It’s a..”

“I picked you up from hospital, last week,” her eyes were dancing with humour, the earlier disappointment was forgotten for now.

“That was an unfortunate incident involving scolding hot cheese and a misremembered name,” I defended myself, weakly.

“I can’t wait to see Killinova in action.”

“Not that again.” I banged my head gently back on the couch in a show of annoyance at her teasing; but, I couldn’t hide the goofy smile that had my cheeks aching.

I had a date with Emma on Valentine’s Day and she’d just given me permission, no, she had demanded, that I try to seduce her.

[whimsicallyenchantedrose]

Valentine’s Rerun (2 of 2): The Valentine

Tagging a few people who may be interested (Let me know if you want to be added or taken off the list): @sailormew4 @annaamell @flslp87 @emmateo26@bethacaciakay @ultraluckycatnd @effulgent-mind @ilovemesomekillianjones @kat2609 @brooke-to-broch @missgymgirl @galadriel26 @the-lady-of-misthaven @charmingturkeysandwich @jennjenn615 @laschatzi @kimmy46 @snowbellewells @iamanneenigma @daxx04 @nickillian @in-spirational @gillie  @britishguyslover @ginnyjinxedandhanshotritafirst @kmomof4  @linda8084 @golfgirld @captain-swan-coffee @searchingwardrobes @hollyethecurious @laughswaytoomuch  @allyourdarlingswans  @winterbaby89 @facesiousbutton82 @therooksshiningknight, @lfh1226-linda @tiganasummertree  @jrob64  @anmylica     @cosette141​ 

Canon divergence from the end of 3a. Pan never escaped Pandora’s box, and thus never cast his curse. Now that Storybrooke is villain-free for the moment, the town can get back to everyday life. As Valentine’s Day approaches, 12 year old Henry makes a Valentine for his crush, Grace--a Valentine that through a mix up, falls into the wrong hands. Can this errant Valentine re-ignite a spark that’s been smoldering since Neverland?

Twelve-year-old Henry took a deep breath and looked down at the red, pink and white card in his hand.  It was covered with hearts and flowers and a whimsical drawing of cupid with his arrow notched and pointed toward a dark haired boy and a blonde haired girl who were shyly looking up at each other.

His stomach felt funny—like he didn’t know whether he was excited or whether he was about to throw up—as he thought about what he planned to do.  What if she didn’t like it? What if she didn’t like him the way he liked her? What if she laughed at him and everybody at school made fun of him?

He didn’t think Grace would do that to him, but you never know.  He’d only just gotten over thinking of girls as gross, and honestly, they kind of scared him.

Taking another deep breath and then letting it out, Henry nodded in determination.  He’d just survived an adventure on Neverland .  He’d been kidnapped by Pan’s minions, and he’d have literally lost his heart if his moms and his dad and the rest of his family hadn’t come to save him.  If he was brave enough for that, he was brave enough to let a girl know how he felt about her.

He looked over the card one more time.  The front said “Roses are red, violets are blue…”, and then on the inside it continued, “...for our love I will always find you.  You are my heart’s treasure.” How perfect was this card? It even had their family’s unofficial motto on it!

Henry’s pen hovered for a moment over the illustration on the inside.  What looked like a pirate’s treasure chest sat upon a beach next to a hole that had obviously recently been dug.  The chest was open and red, white and pink hearts spilled out of it.

Nodding his head in determination, Henry added his own sentiments below the illustration.  “I think about you every hour of every day. Do you think we could spend some time together?”

He debated whether or not to sign his name to the card, but in the end decided against it.  What if one of the other kids at school saw it? He’d die of embarrassment if anyone else found out that he like liked Grace!

“Kid, it’s about time for school!” His mom called up the loft stairs.  “You ready to go?”

Henry hastily slid the card into a plain, red envelope, and put it on top of his school books before bounding down the stairs and depositing the entire pile on the kitchen table.  “Just a minute Mom. I need the bathroom.”

“Okay,” he heard Mom say, “but hurry, Kid.  It snowed last night, and the roads are a mess.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Emma took a last swig of her coffee, and then dumped her stack of case files on the table on top of Henry’s stuff.  She figured she had just enough time to snag a pop-tart from the cupboard before Henry would be ready for school.

Emma pinched the bridge of her nose.  It was barely 7:15 am, and she already had a headache.  Why had she thought it was a good idea to bring an armload of case files home with her to work on after-hours?  She was a good person; why did she want to torture herself?

The minute hand ticked past 7:30, and Emma felt her frustration rise.  “Come on, Henry! If we don’t leave soon, we’re both going to be late!”

Hoping to speed things along a bit, Emma grabbed her files, put them aside, and then shoved Henry’s school stuff into his bookbag.

“Sorry mom!” Henry said, bursting out of the bathroom and donning his peacoat and scarf.  “I just...well...I mean…”

Emma looked at him with concern.  “Something wrong, Kid? You can tell me; you know that, right?”

He looked aside and then nodded, his face flaming.  “I know. It’s not a big deal. It’s just...it’s Valentine’s Day, and there’s this girl I kind of..you know.. like , and I have a card for her.  I just wanted to make sure my hair looks good and stuff.”

Emma smiled and put a comforting hand on his shoulder.  “I’m sure she’ll love it, Kid. Any girl would be lucky to have you.”

Half an hour later, Henry safely dropped off at school, Emma strolled into the Sheriff’s office, and started the long process of removing all her winter outerwear.  “Brr,” she said, “It’s cold out there!”

Across the bullpen, Hook nodded absently and muttered something about how he was glad she made it safely, as he continued looking down at whatever he’d been reading.

They’d returned to Storybrooke from Neverland three weeks ago.  With Pan safely stowed in Pandora’s box—which Gold had stored in some super secret location with all kinds of protective magic surrounding it—and Greg and Tamara no longer living, things had gone back to what passed for normal in Storybrooke.  Emma didn’t want to jinx it, but they’d been blessedly villain-free for the entire three weeks.

David had decided to take some time off of his co-sheriffing duties to spend quality time with Mary Margaret (and Emma suspected, though she really didn’t want to know about this, he also took time off so that they could focus on making Mary Margaret’s “I want another baby” wish come true), which had left Emma down one officer of the law.  She’d subsequently hired Hook to be her deputy.

She’d thought he’d have been thrilled with the offer to work with her, thought he’d get all flirty and lay the charm and innuendo on thick, but that hadn’t been the case.  He’d been strangely withdrawn ever since they’d returned from Neverland. He was always there when she needed him, but their camaraderie and banter was just... gone ...and Emma had no idea what had happened.  Had she done something to drive him away?

She didn’t want to think about all of it too much, but she missed him.  Somewhere along the way—probably in Neverland—she’d begun to think of him as a friend, maybe one of her best friends in Storybrooke.  He’d become her confidante, and he was always there to offer a listening ear and wise advice when she needed it.

But lately...things were just different.

And she kind of hated it.

If only Neal would adopt the same attitude.  Emma felt the headache intensify at the thought of her ex.  He’d wasted no time asking her to lunch with him the very day that they had returned from Neverland.  She’d stood him up, not sure what she wanted with him. A part of her still loved him; a part of her would probably always love him, but they were different people now.  And truth be told, though she believed at least a part of him truly believed he was doing what was best for her by abandoning her, there are some wounds that can just never fully heal.  

And so, the next time Neal had asked her out, she’d told him as gently as she could that she did care about him, and she was glad that Henry had him in his life, but she’d moved on and their opportunity for a relationship had died more than a dozen years ago.

She’d hoped he would accept it and move on himself, but so far, that hadn’t been the case.  He still pestered her to give him another chance every few days.

Hook put aside the paper he’d been reading, and stood and stretched.  Emma watched, enjoying the way his muscles moved and bunched beneath the thin cotton of his shirt.  “How can I be of service today, Swan?”

Emma eyed the files on her desk.  “Can you file these?” she asked. “They go in that file cabinet against the wall.  They’re arranged by case number.”

“Aye,” Killian said simply, scooping up the files without a glance in her direction.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Killian grabbed the files and made his way quickly toward the file cabinet she’d indicated.  He felt his heart clench at the brief nearness to her, and the scent of her vanilla and cinnamon shampoo, and the electricity he felt in the air when he was near her.

He’d promised Bae he would back off, give him a chance to try to reunite his family.  He figured he owed him that at least.

But it was torture to be so near Swan and not truly be with her.  He loved her, and he knew that would never change, but he wanted her to be truly happy.  He hoped that happiness would include him, but if she chose to pursue it with Bae, he would abide by her wishes.  Somehow he would let her go.

Perhaps it had been unwise to accept the deputy position and work with her every day, but he only had so much strength.  He could not— would not—deny her any request she made.

He blew out a long breath, shaking his head to clear his melancholy thoughts.  Best to focus on the task at hand rather than the sad state of his romantic life.

Killian made short work of the files, but when he’d placed the last one in its proper place, he realized he was left with one last thing in his hand—a plain red envelope.  He looked down at it quizzically. What was this?

Returning to his desk, he slit it open with his hook and then pulled out the folded piece of cardstock inside.

Killian’s eyes widened as he read the words the brightly decorated missive contained.

“ Roses are red, violets are blue, for our love, I will always find you.  You are my heart’s treasure. ”

And then handwritten below, “ I think about you every hour of every day.  Do you think we could spend some time together? ”

Killian felt his heart pick up speed.  This missive had been on the bottom of the stack of files; the stack Emma had handed him.  Had Emma meant to give it to him? She must have; what other explanation could there be?

Looking down, Killian read the sentiments on the cardstock once more: “ I think about you every hour of every day.  Do you think we could spend some time together? ”

Was it possible?  Was she truly declaring her feelings for him?

He knew she felt something for him, had known it from the beginning.  She was an open book after all.  

I can’t take the chance that I’m wrong about you.

Even as far back as their journey on the beanstalk, there had been something between them, but her heart had been so bruised, so guarded that she couldn’t give in to it.

Were her walls coming down?  Was this her way of letting him know she wanted to explore the feelings that kiss in Neverland exposed?

For the first time since returning from the accursed jungles of Neverland, Killian felt hope.  Aye, he’d promised Bae he’d back off to give Swan a chance to sort out her feelings, but if this was really happening—if she had made her choice and that choice was him, there was no chance in any realm he was going to turn her away.

Slowly a plan began to form in his mind.

“Swan,” he called over, “I’ll be back in two shakes.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

As the sun began to set that night, Emma found herself making her way down to the docks questions swirling through her mind and a strange sense of anticipation in her heart.

For three weeks, Hook had effectively ignored her, and then today….well, today was different.  This afternoon, just before he left for the day, Hook had placed a single, folded sheet of paper on the desk in front of her, then, without a word, he left.

She’d looked after him for a full minute, wondering, for probably the five hundredth time in the last month what was up with him.  Then she’d unfolded the sheet of paper and smoothed it out on the desk in front of her, smiling at the neat, almost flowery handwriting.

Swan,

I would love to spend time with you.  You need never have any question about that, love.  Please meet me this evening at sunset at the Jolly Roger .  I think perhaps it’s time we talk.

Yours,

Killian

Emma had spent the better part of the last two hours trying to decide whether or not to meet Hook as he’d asked.  On the one hand, it was a risk. If she went and he made some grand gesture trying to “win her heart” as he’d promised to do in Neverland—that was, well, a lot .  Even now, all these months later she just wasn’t sure she could take a chance that she was wrong about him.  If she let her guard down and he broke her heart…

On the other hand, she missed him, really, truly missed him.  All through their time in Neverland she’d told herself he annoyed her.  She’d told herself she wished he’d just back off , wished he’d stop with the flirting and innuendo and—even worse—the genuine caring and concern in his eyes.  But now that he had backed off, well now she realized how important he had become to her.  Leaving aside any question of romantic feelings, he had been her friend, a friend who genuinely got her.  Someone who could raise her spirits when they were down, someone who knew exactly what she needed and when she needed it, someone who believed in her 100%, always.

And it was that thought that convinced her that meeting him as he asked was what she wanted to do.

Besides, Henry was staying with Regina tonight, and David and Mary Margaret had big Valentine’s Day plans, so what else was she going to do?

Which is why she found herself at the dock where the Jolly Roger was moored just as the sun touched the horizon.

She wasn’t quite sure of the protocol for boarding a 300-year-old pirate ship.  Were you supposed to knock? Yell out for permission? Just climb on up? Just to cover her bases, she did all three.

A moment later, Killian’s dark head poked out from the hatch, and the smile he gave her was tender and boyish—and, okay, if she was being honest, kind of made the butterflies dance in her stomach.

“Come aboard love,” he said.  “Dinner awaits us in the captain’s quarters.”

Curious, Emma did as instructed, walking the gangplank, and then climbing down the steps of the hold.  When she turned around and got a proper look at the captain’s quarters, her jaw dropped.

There were candles. Everywhere.  A table was set in the middle of the room with a red and white checked table cloth, a beautiful bouquet of roses, accented with baby’s breath, two elaborate place settings and a bottle of wine.

She turned confused eyes on the pirate standing before her, dressed in his customary leather, but with a red brocade vest rather than his customary black.  He looked...nervous. Reaching up to scratch behind his ear, he lowered his eyes to the table. He uncorked the wine and poured them each a generous portion of what looked like Merlot, before clearing his throat and looking back at her.

“I suppose I should have chosen some manner of fancier victuals, but I wanted to provide you with something I knew you would like.”

With a flourish, he removed the cover from her place setting to reveal a steaming grilled cheese sandwich and a generous helping of onion rings.

“Um--” she said, “it looks good?”

She had no idea why it came out as a question.

“Shall we?” he asked, gesturing toward the table.

“Uh...okay.”  

Hook came around the table and held her chair for her, pushing it in gently once she was seated, and then he took his own seat.

“I’m afraid I only have the most rudimentary knowledge of courting protocols within your realm,” he said, “but it would seem that sharing a candlelight meal with your sweetheart is a custom that transcends the years and the realms.”

Suddenly it clicked.  Hook hadn’t just asked her here to talk.  He asked her here on a date .

Emma got abruptly to her feet, heart pounding.  “Hook? What’s going on here?” she asked, “is this...are you...was this a date ?”

Killian slowly got to his feet, brow furrowed.  “Aye?” he said carefully. “Was that not what you intended in the missive you gave me this morning?”

“Was that not what I…. what ?”

“The card you gave me, love,” he said.  As though to illustrate, he pulled a red envelope from his breast pocket and handed it to her.

Thoroughly confused, she pulled the (kind of gaudy) card free from the envelope and read it.

“Killian, where did you even get this, and why do you think it’s from me?”

A look of confusion, quickly followed by what might be embarrassment passed across his features.  “I think it’s from you, Swan, because you gave it to me. It was at the bottom of the stack of files you asked me to put away for you.”

For a moment, Emma merely looked at him, and then suddenly she understood.  Taking her seat again, she started laughing.

“I fail to see what is so amusing, love,” Killian said, taking his own seat.  Emma could hear the embarrassment and frustration in his voice, and that more than anything made her calm down.  Surprised at her own boldness, Emma reached across the table and took hold of his hand and hook.

“Hook, Killian,” she said, “I didn’t give you that card, but I think I know what happened.  This morning Henry was talking about this girl he has a crush on and about a Valentine he wanted to give her.  Must have gotten mixed in with my stuff before we left.”

Hook’s face flamed and he pulled his hand free to scratch at his ear again.  “I...I apologize for the misunderstanding Swan.”

It was that moment, for whatever reason, that everything just...clicked into focus for Emma.  The last three weeks, she’d missed him; that much she already knew.  What she’d failed to grasp until this very moment was the fact that it wasn’t just friendship and support she wanted from Hook.  It was...well, she wasn’t even sure she could define what exactly she wanted from him, but it was something more, something bigger, something that would change the course of her life forever.

The thought was scary, and yet also strangely comforting.  She knew, knew deep down that she could trust her heart with him.  And so, maybe it was time to take a leap of faith.

“Killian,” she said, watching as he resolutely refused to look at her.  Reaching across the table, she tipped up his chin until his eyes met hers.  “It may be true that I didn’t send you that Valentine, but...well...that doesn’t mean it’s not true.”

His eyes widened.  “Swan, are you saying--?”

She laughed nervously.  “To be honest, I don’t know exactly what I’m saying.  I’m not good with letting down my walls and being vulnerable and stuff.  I don’t know exactly what I want to happen between us, but I know I want something with you.  Do you—do you mind if we take things slow until I figure it out?”

The smile he gave her could have put the radiance of the sun to shame.  “Love, I’ve got all the time in the world.”

[zaharadessert]

Ho, Ho, Ho Santa here once more!

Ever so glad that a fic will be a fitting gift for you- now to meet with the elves and start crafting it…

I must say what good choices you made as far as favorite parts of OuaT to enjoy. When I myself sit back with my Christmas cookies and milk, Season 3 or early Season 4 would be my favorite parts to repeat as well. And Elsa was a wonderful friend and fellow magic user for Emma to have, even if only for a short time.

Speaking of Elsa, are there other OuaT supporting characters or guest arc characters you really like to see included in your CS fics?

What were some real, Land Without Magic holiday practices you would have loved to see CS (and the rest of our OuaT gang) get to celebrate?

Hello again, Santa!

Ooooh, good question! I love Will... and Robin... Ruby and Granny are always fun to throw into the mix.

I think it was a shame, that considering how much everyone loved the miners day that we never saw anything else apart from a terrible valentines day. It would have been really cool to see the whole town decked out in lights for Christmas... I'm more than a little bit obsessed with fairy lights, I love the way they just make things seem brighter and prettier. On my way home from work there are these two houses that are clearly owned by rich, posh people, because their houses are super decked out in warm white lights. It's like a posh Christmas explosion and it makes me laugh every time.

I guess just the simple things like decorating for Holidays, whichever one... Killian learning about LWM traditions and finding them all bonkers but learning to embrace them because he's literally the only person without cursed memories... but can you imagine him finding out about mistletoe? lol... Also wish we'd found out more of some of the traditions he grew up with too.

Ugh, honestly though, anything more than what we got!

Thanks for the question, Santa. Happy writing!

[searchingwardrobes]

Valentine Throwbacks: Day 2

This was written a few years ago for the 14 Days of Valentine’s Prompts on tumblr. This was for day three: the meet-cute.

Summary: Emma Swan doesn’t do “cute.” So when she meets Killian Jones for the first time, well, she meets ALL of him. Or what happens when gym employee Emma walks in on Killian in the tanning bed.

Making a picset for this fic was simultaneously fun and frustrating. Colin’s chest hair is one of a kind, isn’t it? ;) I also didn’t want this to be NSFW, so the tanning bed pic isn’t exactly as described in the story, lol.

Words: almost 3k

Rated: High T ? I mean, Emma accidentally sees him nude, but that’s about it. I just can’t bring myself to rate this an M because it’s overall just funny and cute.

Also on Ao3

Tagging the usuals: @snowbellewells @whimsicallyenchantedrose @kmomof4 @let-it-raines @teamhook @bethacaciakay @xhookswenchx @tiganasummertree @shireness-says @stahlop @scientificapricot @welllpthisishappening @resident-of-storybrooke @thislassishooked @ilovemesomekillianjones @kday426 @ekr032-blog-blog @lfh1226-linda @ultraluckycatnd @nikkiemms @optomisticgirl @profdanglaisstuff @carpedzem @ohmakemeahercules @branlovestowrite @superchocovian @sherlockwhovian @vvbooklady1256 @hollyethecurious @winterbaby89 @delirious-latenight-laughs @jennjenn615 @snidgetsafan @xsajx​ @itsfabianadocarmo @spartanguard @hookedonapirate​

Emma Swan did not work her butt off just to wipe things. She practically crawled and scraped her way into a meaningful life after getting out of prison. She worked multiple jobs, lived in her car, ate nothing but beans straight from the can, and when the misery was all said and done, she had a college degree in exercise science. But like any field these days everyone wanted experience, so until she somehow got some, she was relegated to wiping things. Wiping down the equipment, wiping down mats, wiping, wiping, and more wiping. And she only made slightly more than the teenagers at the reception desk and the college guy who made the smoothies.

Emma sighed as she grabbed yet another fresh rag after her boss told her the tanning machines needed . . . you guessed it, wiping. She was paying more attention to her internal raging about how much her life sucked than she was to her superior telling her which beds were occupied. She was pretty sure she said they were all being used except for bed three, so Emma went all the way to the end of the narrow hallway that housed the tanning beds and stopped at the last door. If she hadn’t been distracted and moody, she might have thought to knock. Maybe. Then again, most people locked the damn door.

Well, not this guy. He also didn't wear underwear to tan like most people. Nope, he was completely nude. He lay there, in all his glory, shimmering under the UV bulbs like the god Apollo or something. And the Greek god comparison wasn’t an exaggeration between the light shining on him, and the chiseled muscles, and the perfect . . . He was sort of like a living version of the statue of the David, but tanned and with lots of chest hair.

“Who’s there!” he called out.

Emma gasped, then cursed under her breath as she turned and left, slamming the door behind her. She sagged against the heavy oak door, her heart racing. She groaned and covered her face with the hand that wasn’t still clutching the bottle of cleanser and rag. Had she just stood there and stared at the guy? Oh god, she had.

Suddenly, the door behind her gave way and Emma fell backwards with a yelp. From her place on the floor, she looked up to see Apollo himself standing above her, smirking, wearing nothing but a pair of tight, white briefs. Did he look . . . pleased with himself? She suddenly realized she was clutching the bottle of cleanser to her chest.

“Like what you saw, darling?” he asked with an arched brow. He had a British accent. Of course.

Emma rolled her eyes at him as she struggled to her feet, irritatingly brushing off his attempts to assist her. “Please, I didn’t even look. Do you think I want to burn my retinas?”

His eyes, which were an amazing shade of blue, seemed alight with mirth as he regarded her. “Then why the blush?” He leaned towards her slightly, his encroachment upon her personal space made all the more infuriating by his lack of clothing. She took a step back towards the doorway.

“Oh great,” she snapped, “you’re that type.”

His brow furrowed, and for a moment he actually looked slightly hurt. “What type?”

Emma crossed her arms across her chest, despite the awkwardness of the cleaning supplies clutched in her hand. “Isn’t it obvious? I mean, seriously, who uses a tanning bed in the middle of the winter? Except for –“ she vaguely gestured up and down his person, “wanna-be Calvin Klein underwear models.”

It was his turn to scowl and cross his arms over his chest. His very appealing chest that Emma was trying really hard not to stare at.

“Or maybe some people do it for their health. You ever think of that?”

“Yeah right,” Emma bit out, “health of what? Your sex life, playboy?”

His blue eyes sparked with indignation. “Oh, you get an eye-full and you suddenly know me?”

Guilt pricked at her for a moment. She was in the wrong here for barging in without knocking. But his smirking and innuendos had her defenses up. “I know your type,” she told him smugly with a tilt of her chin.

“You walk in on me, and I’m the bad guy?”

He had a point, and she knew it. She took several more steps backwards into the hallway and turned on her heel, her ponytail swinging with irritation all its own. “Ugh, I’ve got work to do. Wipe the bed down, I get tired of cleaning up other people’s sweat all day.”

Emma half expected him to get in one last word, but as she marched away, all she heard was the slamming of the door to tanning room three.

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

The week of her little embarrassing tanning bed episode, there had been a slight lull at the gym. It had been the last week of January, when New Year’s resolutions were waning and the cold weather dampened people’s motivation. But now people seemed to suddenly realize that Valentine’s Day was only two weeks away, and the gym was once again packed. Even the indoor pool had been in more frequent usage, so Emma’s boss sent her to check the chlorine levels. With the flu epidemic, they couldn’t afford to let germs spread in the warm water.

It had also been a week since Emma had seen “Apollo the sun god,” much to her relief. But when she exited the women’s locker room, into the pool area, there he was: his muscular back an appealing sight as his arms cut through the water. He was evidently an experienced swimmer as he turned off the wall expertly and did a strong backstroke across the length of the pool. Emma shook her head and cursed herself. Damn it, she was staring again!

Emma was leaning over the edge, a nice distance away from the tanning god, getting samples of the water in little test tubes. She was shaking the first one to get a result when she was sprayed with little droplets of water. She looked up, her eyes angry, narrow slits, to see him, treading water easily with a maddening grin on his face. The pool water made his blue eyes almost glitter like sapphires, and he looked unfairly sexy wet.

“I’ve been hoping to see you again,” he told her. “We didn’t exactly get off on the right foot. I’m sorry I teased you, I was just trying to help you see the humor in the situation. It came off wrong, obviously.”

Emma purposely ignored him, staring at the little tube in her hand and trying to remember what the hell she was looking at. He cut through the water towards her, and rested his arm on the edge of the pool inches away from where she crouched.

“I’m Killian Jones by the way,” he said. Emma pressed her lips together in frustration as she blushed for absolutely no reason. She still refused to look at him. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him cock his head. “And this is the part where you say, hello, I’m Emma Swan.”

She jerked her head so fast, she almost dropped the test tube. “How did you –“

“I can read, love,” he laughed, gesturing towards her right shoulder.

Emma groaned as she glanced down at her employee name tag. She got hit on all the time at the gym, and had heard a million different pick-up lines involving her last name. But she had sworn off men since Neal, except for an occasional one night stand. But those were never men from work; too much familiarity.

“Some men would take your silence as off-putting,” Killian told her then with a smirk, “but I love a challenge.” Then he had the audacity to wink before diving back under the water.

Emma rubbed her forehead wearily as she stood. The water was low on chemicals, so she pushed the handsome swimmer/sun bather from her mind as she collected what she needed from the supply closet. She measured the chlorine as well as a small dose of shock and added it to the filtration system, then she headed back for the locker room.

Emma wasn’t sure exactly what happened next. There was a puddle of water on the tile floor deep enough to send her sensible sneakers sliding out from under her. Then her arms were wind-milling in empty air, and the pool water seemed to be rushing up to meet her. But before she could hit the water, a hand shot out and grasped her by the elbow. She was hauled from the pool edge, colliding with a warm, wet, very masculine chest.

Killian Jones chuckled as his other arm came around her. “Next time, don’t stand on ceremony.”

Emma blamed her shocked surprise for her delayed reaction in pulling away from him. “Please, Jones, don’t flatter yourself.”

He tucked his tongue into his cheek and waggled his eyebrows, “Remembering yesterday?”

Emma fumed as she gave him a disdainful once-over. “I’m just shocked you’re not in a speedo, mister tighty-whitey.”

Killian’s eyes widened and his gaze went from playful to irritated. “You wouldn’t even know I wore tighty-whities if you hadn’t walked in on me!”

Emma threw up her hands in frustration, resisting the urge to shove him. “It was an accident!”

He arched one brow. “Like you almost falling in the pool?”

Emma scoffed as she crossed her arms over her chest, “Who said I was falling?”

“Fine,” he spat out, “next time, I’ll just let you fall.”

He brushed past her then, grabbing his towel angrily as he marched towards the men’s locker room. Emma started to stomp her way in the opposite direction, but then decided she better tread more carefully on the wet floor.

Not that she had needed Killian Jones to catch her. She was just fine on her own.

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

Several hours later, Emma walked into her apartment and kicked her gym shoes off by the door. Her feet ached as she dragged herself over to the couch and plopped down next to her roommate. She groaned and Elsa laughed, handing her a slice of pizza from the pie resting on the coffee table.

“Rough day?”

“Yeah,” Emma muttered around a bite, “tanning bed guy showed up again.”

“Oh,” Elsa laughed, wrinkling her nose, “that must have been embarrassing.”

Emma waved her hand. “Don’t want to talk about it. I just want to stuff my face with pizza and zone out in front of the TV.” She narrowed her eyes at the screen and groaned, “Not this, Elsa, seriously?”

Her best friend shook her head as she chuckled at Emma. “Dr. Oz gives lots of good advice.” She poked Emma in the shoulder. “You should listen to him, junk food junkie. How you’re ever going to be a personal trainer when you eat like a fourteen year old, is beyond me.”

Emma smirked and lifted two fingers, “One, I was gifted with an amazing metabolism. Two, my clients will just need to do as I say, not as I do.”

They both laughed then and continued devouring the pizza. Emma’s brow furrowed as she tried to follow the show, since she had missed the first half. “What’s wrong with this girl he’s talking to?” she finally asked Elsa.

“Seasonal affective disorder,” Elsa explained, “lots of people get it in the winter.”

Emma snorted. “Is that a real thing? It sounds made up.”

Elsa shrugged, “I don’t understand it, since I love winter. The snow is so pretty, and the cold – I just don’t get why it bothers people.”

Emma rolled her eyes and tossed a throw pillow at her friends’ head, “Okay, you’re weird, we’ve established that.”

Elsa whacked Emma with the pillow then hugged it to her chest instead of giving it back. “Seriously though, it is a real thing. My friend at work struggles with it. I finally talked him into seeing a therapist, and Killian says it really helps him. Some things that help are physical, like –“

The blood had drained from Emma’s face as she choked out, “like a tanning bed?”

Elsa’s eyes widened, “Yeah, actually, and he swims in an indoor pool, too. Why?”

Emma groaned, dropping her pizza back to the box. She covered her face with both hands. “Please,” she muttered between her fingers, “don’t tell me his last name is Jones and that he has a British accent.”

“Yeah, he –“ Elsa’s words cut off as understanding dawned, “oh my god, you’re not saying he’s the tanning bed guy?”

Emma peeked through her fingers, “Yes, that’s what I’m saying. He introduced himself today – at the pool. Trying to be nice, actually.” She moaned as she lowered her head to Elsa’s lap. “I’m a bitch,” she whispered.

Elsa just gave a tiny, soft laugh as she worked the tangles out of Emma’s hair with her long fingers. “Well, so am I, that’s why we’re friends.”

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

Emma hoped that good intentions justified quasi-stalking. She had to make it up to Killian for being so horrible, and she couldn’t just wait around to bump into him again. She pulled his account up on her work computer and learned his gym routine. Killian Jones was an extremely punctual person of habit. On Tuesdays and Thursdays he got to the gym at 5 am and left at 6:30. Emma didn’t get to her shift on those days until 8:00. But on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays, he arrived at 7:00 pm and left at 8:30, which were the same days that Emma worked late.

Unfortunately, Elsa informed her that Killian had come down with the dreaded flu. By the time he came back to the gym, and Emma had figured out how to approach him, it was February the 14th. It wasn’t ideal to approach him on Valentine’s Day. After all, she didn’t want him to get the wrong idea. But if she put it off any longer, she knew she would chicken out. So on Valentine’s Day, when Killian Jones exited the gym, he found Emma Swan leaning against his black SUV with a smoothie in her hand. (That had taken additional stalking. To ascertain the smoothie he usually ordered and which vehicle in the parking lot belonged to him.)

“A peace offering?” Emma asked, hating when her voice cracked a bit. When he just stood there with his mouth hanging open, she rushed on, “And an apology? For walking in on you and then. . .well, for being a bitch.”

That finally got a chuckle out of him. He shuffled forward, and for the first time looked nervous. He tossed his bag in the back seat then turned to her with a smile as he leaned against the car with his arms crossed. “What brought on this sudden change?”

Emma’s face fell, and her eyes lowered to stare at the cup in her hand. “Your friend, Elsa Arrendale? I’m her roommate.”

“Oh,” Killian said, scratching behind his ear.

“And she didn’t tell me much,” Emma rushed to explain, “just enough to make me see how quick I was to judge you.”

Killian nodded. “So she told you I’m a mess this time of year, huh?”

Emma smiled and shrugged, “Hey, not everyone loves freezing their ass off the way Elsa does.” That got another chuckle out of him. “And besides, I’m a mess pretty much year round.”

“Well,” Killian said with a long sigh, “I was too, for a while. Right after my Milah died, I could barely get out of bed each morning. That was five years ago.”

Emma frowned. “I’m so sorry. Who was she? Your wife?”

“Aye,” Killian answered softly, “she died in a car accident. This time of year. We were going out on a nice date.”

“Valentine’s day?”

“No,” he said with a shake of his head and a false grin, “my birthday, actually, end of January.”

“I’m so sorry, Killian. No wonder this time of year is so hard for you.” She bit her lip. “Can you ever forgive me for being such a jerk to you?”

He ran his hand down his face, and afterwards, he gave her a more relaxed smile. “Of course I forgive you, Swan. I do make an arse of myself at times, so I can’t really blame you.”

They shared a laugh at that. Emma cocked her head, studying him and seeing him in a whole new light. “You have Valentine plans?”

Both his eyebrows lifted, “Can’t say I do. Why?”

She shrugged, “How about I buy you a drink?” She shook the smoothie cup still in her hand. “A bit stronger than this.”

Killian gave her a sinful smile, cocked his head, and tapped his lips. “I’d say you owe me a proper apology, love.”

Emma wanted to scoff, to roll her eyes, but all she could do was smile as a blush crept up her face. “That’s what the drink is for.”

Killian pouted then, quite affectively. “That’s all I get? When this time of year makes me so, so sad?”

What Emma did next was partly to shut him up. However, she had to admit, it was also because she had imagined what it would be like to kiss him a thousand times since the tanning bed. So she lunged for him, the smoothie falling to the ground forgotten with a thud and a splash. She hauled him in by the collar of his shirt, her mouth hungrily taking his.

Because she could admit it now: Yes, she liked what she saw.

[kmomof4]

Me and Mrs. Jones

Fluffy, romantic prompt from @winterbythesea​. Svenja was looking for some mood music, and this song was on the list. With her blessing, I decided to write it.

Beta services provided by @hollyethecurious​ and @profdanglaisstuff​. Thank you ladies!!!

Ao3 link

Tagging my peeps: @hollyethecurious​ @winterbaby89​ @snowbellewells​ @stahlop​ @resident-of-storybrooke​ @jennjenn615​ @kingofmyheart14​ @profdanglaisstuff​ @branlovestowrite​ @thisonesatellite​ @ultraluckycatnd​ @flslp87​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​ @let-it-raines​ @shireness-says​ @kymbersmith-90​ @darkcolinodonorgasm​ @bethacaciakay​ @searchingwardrobes​ @ilovemesomekillianjones​ @teamhook​ @aprilqueen84​ @qualitycoffeethings​ @superchocovian​ @artistic-writer​ @donteattheappleshook​ @doodlelolly0910​ @seriouslyhooked​ @tiganasummertree​

Under the cut unless Tumblr ate it.

Me and Mrs. Jones

We got a thing going on

We both know that it's wrong

But it's much too strong to let it go now

we meet everyday, at the same cafe

6: 30 and no one knows she'll be there

Holding hands, making all kinds of plans

While the jukebox plays our favorite song

Me and Mrs., Mrs. Jones, Mrs. Jones, Mrs. Jones

We got a thing going on

Both know that it's wrong

But it's much too strong to let it go now

We gotta be extra careful

That we don't build our hopes up too high

'Cause she's got her own obligations

And so do I

Me and Mrs., Mrs. Jones

Mrs. Jones, Mrs. Jones, Mrs. Jones

Well, it's time for us to be leaving

And it hurts so much, it hurts so much inside

And now she'll go her way and I'll go mine

But tomorrow we'll meet at the same place, the same time

Me and Mrs., Mrs., Mrs., Mrs. Jones

(Same place)

We both know that it's wrong

(Same time)

everyday at the same cafe

(Same place)

We got a thing going on, you know it's wrong

(Same time)

Killian Jones sauntered back toward the booth where his wife sat drinking her cocoa as the opening chords of Me and Mrs. Jones floated into a deserted Granny’s diner from the jukebox. Making his way from the back hallway, he pushed the small tables and chairs out of the way, making a wider space next to the booth where he had been sitting. Extending his hand out to his bride, he murmured into her ear, “May I have this dance, Mrs. Jones?”

She lifted her emerald gaze to his with a raised eyebrow and smirk. Placing her hand in his, she rose gracefully from the booth as he drew her into her arms. Her body lined up perfectly to his as they began to sway while the smooth timbre of Billie Paul filled the diner.

Me and Mrs. Jones

We got a thing going on

He crooned the lyrics into her ear as he tightened his hold around her. Placing an open mouth kiss on her neck, he relished her gasp and shiver of pleasure, before whispering his alternative to the next line of the song in her ear.

We both know that there’s nothin’ wrong

And it’s much too strong to let it go now

He pulled back from his beloved with a raised eyebrow and a glint of desire in his eyes as he spun her out and then pulled her back into the hard planes of his body. Swaying again, Killian raised his hand to her hair before lowering his face to hers for a kiss.

Holding hands, making all kinds of plans

While the jukebox plays our favorite song

Emma trembled in his arms as their tongues dueled and hands roamed. The diner may have been deserted, even Granny leaving for the night, but the blinds were still open and anyone out on the street might be able to see the late-night liaison between the Savior and her pirate, but he’d be damned if he cared. His hand in his Swan’s golden locks while his hooked arm was around her waist, pulling her even closer against him.

Releasing her lips and resting his forehead against hers, he whispered the next lyrics of the song into the millimeters between their lips.

Me and Mrs., Mrs. Jones, Mrs. Jones, Mrs. Jones

We got a thing going on

He groaned before he captured her lips again as her hands made their way under his waistcoat and shirt and then the waistband of his jeans.

“Ohhhh, Mrs. Jones,” he gasped, releasing her again as her hand brushed against where he was hard and aching for her. “There’s not a thing wrong, is there?” he inquired, pulling back from her slightly and staring into her lust glazed eyes.

“Mmmmm,” she hummed, “No, not a thing, Mr. Jones.” He drew her back, tightly into his arms as she nuzzled her face into his neck and placed a gentle kiss on his pulse point. “But I think it’s time to take this to a more private location. Don’t you?” She placed another kiss on his collar before leaning back to look in his eyes.

“Right you are, Mrs. Jones,” he agreed. He bumped her nose with his as the song was beginning to wind down.

But tomorrow we'll meet at the same place, the same time

Me and Mrs., Mrs., Mrs., Mrs. Jones

(Same place)

…

(Same time)

…

With a flick of her wrist, they were enveloped in a cloud of white smoke. Reappearing in their bedroom at home, he drew her into a passionate embrace before loving her long into the night.

Fin