#i have fucking fluffy sock on in my shoes and my toes are still freezing

[kerosene-saint]

I'm so hungry

[ghoul-foolery]

Flufftober, Day 13

Clothes On / Snow day

Prompt List - Kink/Flufftober Master List

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> Snow Day > Hancock/Nora >Tags: Fluff > Words: 859

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The cold was inescapable.

It was the type of cold that sank down to the bones, it chilled muscle and blood and made existing just south of miserable. Retreating inside didn’t even make it better. There was no heat. The icy chill of radioactive winter sank into the ancient bones of the State House, too.

Nora’s feet were always cold; even when she layered on threadbare socks, and kept her feet in her boots. The only time she seemed to get properly warm was when she and everyone else in Goodneighbor congregated to the barrell fires that appeared in the street right along with the first chill of winter.

The only other time was with Hancock.

The first time he welcomed Nora into his lap it was awkward. Hunkered down on the couch in his office, wrapped in blankets and sniffling from the cold, Nora would have been ready to fight when he first pulled the blankets away from her if she wasn’t freezing. Before she could even manage to swear at him, Hancock pulled her into his lap and draped the blanket over the two of them.

Hancock burned a little hotter than the average man. He didn’t have an answer for why. He chalked it up to some ghoul thing. But from that time, and anytime thereafter, Hancock was willing to share a blanket, share a bed.

And that’s where she found herself when Hancock shook her shoulder and roused her from sleep. The room was still dark — or it was until he flicked on the flashlight on her Pip-Boy.

She grimaced and recoiled under the covers.

“Nora? Hey, babe, c’mon.”

“No you come back to bed,” Nora grumbled in reply. “It’s still dark, what are you even doing?”

“Will you just get up?”

The covers were pulled back and Nora groaned fitfully, her body tucking into a tight coil as she tried to preserve warmth. Her toes almost immediately succumbed to the chill of the room, and she hated that. She’d been warm, and cozy, and asleep and Hancock disrupted the whole damn thing.

“Hancock, please…”

“No chance, Sunshine. Get up.”

“Is it important?”

“Like so fucking important.”

“Do I need my gun?”

“No.”

“Can’t be that important then.”

“Nora…” The low drawl in his voice sounded borderline dangerous. It was a sound she had come to associate being kissed breathless, with wandering hands and the warm press of naked bodies.

Or tickling. It could also lead to prodding fingers along her ribs, and breathless begging of a different sort…

“Okay, okay…” Nora sat up slowly, and was instantly greeted to her vault suit being pressed into her hands.

“Get dressed, put your shoes on, and meet me in my office.”

He left the room, closing the door behind him. The cold of the room helped Nora get dressed in record time. She dressed in layers, throwing on some old thermals and thick woolen socks before slipping into her vault suit. Then she laced herself into her boots. By the time she left Hancock’s room her fingers were starting to feel the first pangs of cold.

The office door was open, filling the landing with light. Hancock stood just beyond the mirrored couches and the coffee table. He was at the counter. His back was to her, stirring the steaming contents of two ceramic mugs. There was a quilt folded up, resting just off to the side.

“So what are you up to, mister mayor?”

He looked back over his shoulder, greeting her with one of his slanted smiles.

“Hey, just in time. Come get the blanket will you?”

Nora did, immediately tucking her hands into the fabric. With the mugs clasped in his hands, Hancock tossed his head towards the balcony door. She was on the verge of complaining, making some comment about being pulled from bed to go out into the damn cold, but she didn’t.

Nora stepped side as she opened the door, letting Hancock step out into the frigid night. Nora followed a beat later— it was snowing. It was coming down in big fluffy flakes. It coated the ground, leaving the streets of Goodneighbor cold and sparkling under a blanket of untouched snow.

“Get out here with that blanket, wouldja?”

Nora unfolded the blanket and stepped out onto the balcony with a squeaky crunch of snow.

Hancock set the mugs on the railing, and they worked together to wrap themselves in the blanket. One end wrapped around his shoulders, the other around Nora’s. They stood close, shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip. Nora snagged one of the mugs, welcoming the heat as it seeped from the ceramic.

She took a delicate sip. Hot bourbon coated her tongue, the burn of alcohol eased with the earthy sweetness of honey, and zinging with a hint of citrus. The warmth pooled in her stomach and seemed to radiate outward to her chest, her legs. When she exhaled, her breath came out in billowing steam.

“So?” Hancock murmured as he took a drink from his own mug. “Worth it?”

Nora let her head tilt into Hancock’s shoulder. A snowflake landed on her cheek.

“Worth it.”

[sunmoonandeddie]

‘cause you are, you are

pairing: lumberjack!bucky barnes x reader

word count: 8,436

summary: Bucky’s found someone out on his front lawn during a snowstorm.  Well, Alpine found her.  If only he knew what he was getting into.

warnings: Bad words!  Violence!  Mention of kidnapping!  Mention of military violence/injury!  Mention of suicidal thoughts!

a/n:  So the song I listened to that kinda really inspired this is ‘Get You the Moon’ by Kina.  Also, this was commissioned by @buckysbunny​ and I really hope you love it, babe!

“Come on, Al,” Bucky said as he led his dog up the front steps of his cabin, carrying all the grocery bags inside.  He had a cigarette between his teeth, keeping it steady as he unlocked the door and let the gorgeous samoyed inside.  “Atta girl.”

The cabin was just as he left it three hours ago when he left to go grocery shopping.  As it should.

And Alpine was already standing at her bowl, wagging her tail.  She knew what time it was.

“You hungry, baby girl?” He asked with a grin as he grabbed the beef he’d been thawing in the sink and opened it up.  “Today’s a beef day.  We both know how much you love cows, yeah?”  He put a cup of beef in her bowl, powdering in her supplements.  “The best girl deserves the best food, yeah?” He asked as he cracked two eggs on top of it, before setting it on the ground.  Bucky couldn’t help but grin at the way that Alpine sat there in front of the bowl, waiting for the go ahead as her tail wagged aggressively.  “Eat.  Good girl.”

Kicking off his boots, he started up a fire in the fireplace.  The clouds were rolling in, the sun already setting.  He’d lived on the mountain long enough to know when the first real snow of the season was setting in.  They’d already had flurries, sure, but…  The first real snow was the first one that had everyone locked inside, unable to go anywhere for weeks.  He could smell it on the air.

Thankfully he was all stocked up on wood, so they’d be warm.  He’d already moved up Alpine’s dinner time so it would still be light outside when she needed to go outside to use the bathroom.  And they had more than enough food in the fridge and in the deep freeze to last them the entire winter, if they needed.  They’d be okay.

Honestly, his biggest worry was losing Alpine in the snow.  She was a big floof of white fur.  She always came when he called, but still.  It was the principle of it.

After she went to the bathroom, the two of them curled up on the couch while he ate and they watched whatever DVD he popped in.  He’d probably binge watch the box set of nature documentaries he’d gotten.

They were… relaxing.  After spending a few tours in Afghanistan, he needed relaxing.

It had been ten years, but… some things don’t fade with time.  Some things stick like gummy bears on a car seat in July.

It was past midnight when Alpine raised her head from his lap, a low whine in the back of her throat.  By then, he’d cracked open a beer and been fully ready to fall asleep there.

“Al?  Come on, baby girl, there’s nothing out there,” he said reassuringly.  It was snowing heavily, and he’d estimate there was already about seven inches deep with no sign of stopping.

But Alpine gets off the couch and runs for the door, barking sharply.

“What the hell has gotten into you?” He asked as he watched her.  “Alpine, come.”

For the first time in the four years since he’d gotten her, she didn’t listen.

Instead, she let out another bark as she clawed at the door.

“Al,” he groaned as he forced himself up.  He left the beer on the coffee table before heading to the door.  “There’s nothing out there.  Just snow.  You’re just gonna get cold and get the floors all wet.”

But, alas, he’s a slave to the desires of his puppy.

It’s kinda pathetic, really.  Not that he cared.

He opened up the door to let her out, frigid air blasting him.  The snow crept up onto the porch, and there was so much coming down it looked almost like a curtain.  “See, Al?  Nothing.”

But she ran out into the snow, nudging at what just looked like another pile of fluffy white snow.  She let out a whine, the only parts clearly visible of her being her dark nose and eyes.

And that’s when a head appeared, and his heart stopped.  What the fuck was a woman doing out in the middle of a snow storm?

Despite the fact that he wasn’t wearing shoes and he’d just changed into a fresh pair of sweats, he ran out to where Alpine was still trying to nudge her awake.  The snow was freezing his toes as he reached down and scooped up the girl, woman, whatever, and carried her inside.

“Come on,” he called out to the samoyed, who was following quickly after him, her tail tucked between her legs.  “You’re such a smart puppy,” he cooed as he laid the girl on the couch.  “You knew she was out there and made sure I got to her.  Good puppy.”

From the color of her lips, there was no doubt in his mind that hypothermia was starting to set in.  And from what she was wearing?  Come on.  She didn’t even have shoes on.  Just two pairs of socks.

Fuck.  He’d have to strip her down.  He needed to get her warm, and the clothes she wore weren’t doing anything to help her since they were thin and soaking wet. “You better not kill me when you wake up,” he grumbled as he pulled her clothes off of her, keeping his eyes averted.  She didn’t even have underwear or a bra on.

It wasn’t that he was some kind of creep.  He just felt awkward.  He didn’t know this woman and he wasn’t some kind of life saver.

Bucky was alarmed by the amount of bruises that covered her body, though it looked as though there was a purposeful lack of them on her face.  There were also what looked like fresh scrapes along her hips.

He wrapped her in every blanket he could find after grabbing fresh clothes from the laundry room and redressing her, cocooning her before shoving the couch closer to the fire so that it may warm her easier.  But she still seemed so cold.  He moved to the kitchen, taking a few hot water bottles from the first aid cabinet and warming them up before gently dabbing one at her face, the only part of her still exposed.

Bucky knew that the only thing he could do now was wait for her to wake up.  Pressing two fingers to her neck, he let out a sigh of relief when he felt her pulse.  “You’re not out of the woods yet,” he said as he grabbed his beer and took a swig.  It was going to be a long night.

Alpine was more than happy with the addition of a new person in their home, if not still a little worried.  She climbed up onto the couch and curled up against her, sniffing at her face and giving her a lick before lying her head down beside her.

“She’ll be okay, Al,” Bucky said quietly as he reached out to give her scritches right above her tail.  He wasn’t sure if he believed it, but…  Maybe Alpine would understand and calm down a little.

My first thought when I woke up was that I was warm.  Really warm.

I hadn’t been warm in such a long time.

My eyelids were so heavy, and I had no desire to open them just yet.

What would I find when I woke up?  If I was back in His possession, in his house, I…  I would need to resort to Plan B.

Technically, Plan B had been Plan A a few times, when things had gotten… especially hard.  But He had caught me before I could succeed.

The last thing I could remember was stumbling through the snow.  I’d managed to finally get out after planning it for months.  I waited until He’d gone out for his nightly trip to the bars before pulling on my two pairs of socks and slipping out through the broken basement window.

The broken glass that I had thought would cause me to freeze to death had become my salvation.

I had been going down the mountain, following the road.  But it had started to snow.  I’m not sure how long I had been walking when I could see the path anymore, or when I saw the light.

The first light I had seen in the stifling white.  It had been coming from a window, cutting through the storm like a beacon of hope.

The wave of relief I had felt at the cabin slowly taking shape in front of my very eyes had been euphoric.  I had started to think that if I was going to die, at least I wasn’t going to die in captivity.

But I hadn’t even made it to the porch steps.

Which brought me to where I am now.  Wrapped up in what I was pretty sure was several blankets.  But I could smell… dog?  He didn’t have a dog.  No pets allowed.

He also didn’t have a crackling fireplace, from what I remember of the few times I’d been allowed upstairs.

Yeah.  Definitely no fireplace.

I made sure to stay completely still as I felt two calloused fingertips press against the pulse point in my neck.

“Well, Al, her heart rate has increased…”

So it was definitely a man.

I’d gotten really good at pretending to be asleep over the years.  Like, really, really good.  It wasn’t often that He’d been able to tell that I was awake if I didn’t want him to know.

There was a whimper, and then a rough tongue licked across my face.  The dog.  Which was (hopefully) this ‘Al.’  I didn’t want to deal with more than one man.

The man sighed and walked away.  “You gonna keep watch over her, baby girl?  I gotta go get a shower.”

Did he think the dog was going to answer him?

As soon as I heard his footsteps going up a set of stairs, I took in a deep breath before slowly letting it out.  I needed to get out of there.  Immediately.

I just had to slip out without him hearing me or the dog making a scene.

I slowly opened my eyes, even though it still felt like I had washers glued to my lashes.

And there was the fireplace.  It was so nice and warm…  I hadn’t felt this toasty in years.  The basement was always so frigid, and with the lack of blankets provided to me, I was always at least a little cold.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to stay for a little while…

No.  I shook my head as I forced myself to sit up.  I couldn’t stay.  I had to get out and get down the mountain to civilization.

I gasped as I felt the rough tough on my cheek again, turning to see a huge white dog that looked more like a cloud than an animal.  “Shh…”  I had to work to get my arms out of the blankets to pet it, but it was then that I realized I was not in my original clothing underneath all the swaddling.  My heart sank to my stomach as I felt a wave of panic.

Had he touched me?  Was he no better than Him?

I got most of the blankets off and frowned as I looked down at sweatpants and the long sleeved shirt I was wearing.  They were far too big for me, but they’d have to do.

I kept my steps feather light as I looked around the space I had found myself in.  It was a living room, and rather cozy.  Rustic looking.  I could see the kitchen to my left, and a silent debate with myself started over whether or not I’d have time to grab food for myself before running.  From the way my stomach growled, I knew that I’d have to.

I hadn’t eaten since yesterday, since today was not my scheduled day to eat.

The cloud dog followed me to the fridge, its tail wagging as I grabbed what I could reasonably carry.  It took everything within me to not stop and play with her.  I hadn’t seen a dog in so long, especially not one so sweet.  Its tail kept wagging even as it watched me stealing food.

I was reaching for the jar of pickles when I heard the cocking of a gun, and I turned around to see a large, burly man pointing a handgun at me.  The food in my hands dropped to the ground as I threw my hands up, my heart racing.  The jar of pickles shattered, the glass flying all over the floor.  “I-I’m sorry!  I’m sorry!” I gushed, feeling sweaty under the pressure of the barrel being pointed at me.  “I don’t know where I am.  I j-just woke up and I’m s-so hungry.”

Bucky’s heart pounded as he got out of the shower, hearing a commotion downstairs.

His instincts took over, and he didn’t have time to even think things through before pulling on a pair of briefs and grabbing his handgun from his bedside table before slipping down the stairs.

He had the gun in both hands as he peeked around the corner, seeing a girl digging through his fridge.  It was the cocking of the gun that alerted her to his presence, and she whirled around.

She was pretty, he could acknowledge that much.

It was when she was rambling that suddenly he remembered.  The girl in the snow.  But he’d been certain that she wouldn’t wake up for at least a few more hours.

His startling blue eyes stayed locked on her as he flipped the safety back on.  But he still kept it raised.  “Who are you?” He demanded, his voice gruff, deep.

She gave her name, and he frowned.  Just a first name?  No last?

“Where did you come from?”

“U-Up the mountain,” she said quietly, a few tears rolling down her pretty cheeks.  “Please, I…  I mean no h-harm.  Please.  I’ll go.  I swear.”

He shook his head, slowly lowering the gun.  It wasn’t like she was much of a threat.  She clearly had no idea what she was doing.  “Don’t be stupid.  You already almost froze to death once out in the storm.  Leaving would just mean that you wasted my efforts to save your life.”

“Thank you,” she said stiffly, still not moving from where she was.  It sounded more like a question than a statement.

She was skinny.  Scary skinny.  Of course, he’d seen that when he’d undressed her, but it was even more alarming seeing her in his clothes, seeing how they draped from her frail, bird-like shoulders.

He nodded to the mess around her.  “Stay still.  I don’t want you cutting your feet on the glass.”  Luckily she had the sense to listen as he swept up the glass and pickles, picking up everything around her before mopping.

He didn’t like being close to her, and she clearly didn’t like being close to him either.  Good.  It meant they would be less likely to step on each other’s toes.

Bucky was already very aware that she was going to have to stay until the snow let up enough for her to leave.

“I’m assuming you’re hungry?” He said as he put the mop away.  “You can have food.  I’m not going to starve you after rescuing you.”

She nodded, her stomach grumbling.  “Yes.  Hungry…”

Pointing to the fridge, he leaned back against the kitchen island.  “You can get whatever you want.”  He watched curiously as she reached into the door and grabbed the container of cottage cheese.  “Did you want some warm food?”

“This is fine.”

“You sure?”

“Mhm.”

She was weird.  But he couldn’t really judge considering the fact that he had no idea who she was or where she had come from.

Maybe she was a Russian spy or something.

No, that’s stupid, he reminded himself.  Your military days are over.  No one is looking for you anymore.

He showed her to one of the guest rooms once she finished eating the entire container of cottage cheese, eyeing her in case she vomited.  He had no idea how the hell she did that.  He liked cottage cheese as much as the next person, but still.

“Um…  There’s a shower through there.  And I can… get you some more clothes and stuff,” he said softly.  He stayed far away, out of her reach, and he noticed her doing the same.

She nodded, chewing on her lower lip as she looked around.  “Okay.  Thank you.”

“I’ll let you… get to it then,” he said awkwardly.  A frown settled across his face as he watched Alpine jump up onto the bed as the girl looked into the bathroom.  “Traitor.”

“Can you show me how the shower works?” She asked, poking her head back out.  “And…  What are the… shower rules here?”

A wave of confusion spread over him.  Shower rules?  “Uh…  Just… let me know if you’re gonna shower soon so I know not to use all the hot water?”

“That’s it?”

“Uh… yeah.”

“Oh.  Okay.”  She glanced over at Alpine, who was lying on her bed.  “Are you…  Are you showering soon?”

Bucky’s head tilted to the side, his brows furrowed.  His dark hair was still wet, and he was still in his briefs.

The girl nodded, letting out a weak laugh as her face flushed.  “Right.  Sorry.”  She pointed to the bathroom.  “The… shower?”

“Right!”  He slipped past her into the bathroom, making sure he didn’t touch her, before showing her how to work the knob and change the temperature.  “There we go…  Uh…  Have a good shower.  And I’m James… by the way…”  He let out a huff of air as he stood there with his hands on his hips.  “Right, um…”  He felt a bit awkward as he left quickly then.

I waited until after James had left to lock the bedroom door, swallowing as I shoved the desk chair under the handle.

There was a low whine, and I turned to see the cloud dog still on the bed.  I had thought it had left with him.  “Hi.  I thought you left.”  I reached out and scratched behind its ear, the fur soft under my fingers.

After taking a few minutes to just pet the puppy, I headed to the bathroom where the shower was still running, the mirror fogged up.

It had been so long since I’d had a hot shower.

After locking the bathroom door, I stripped off the clothes I’d been given and folded them nicely, laying them on the counter.  I could see the scrapes along my hips and cursed, wiping off the mirror so I could attempt to see them better.  I was covered in bruises, and the scrapes were clearly fresh.

But I had no idea what James thought of them or where he thought I got them.  Fuck.

I’d have to come up with some kind of excuse unless I was ready to tell him just where I’d come from.

Which just felt like it’d be so much work.  I wasn’t ready for that yet.

I didn’t come out of my room for the rest of the night.  It was the first time I’d ever been truly alone in years.

Even when He was gone, I was never truly alone.  Not when cameras captured every square inch of the basement.

When I crawled into bed, the cloud dog curled up against me and rested its head on my back.

I slept better than I had in years.  Even if I did end up vomiting up the cottage cheese.

Bucky was still confused by the girl three weeks later.  The snow hadn’t let up, which he was kinda upset about because she’d eaten one of the two containers of cottage cheese her first night.

He liked his cottage cheese.  And she ate it.

Which, okay.  He had been able to tell she was hungry and she clearly needed the food more than he did, but still.  She couldn’t have chosen something else?

Now they were having to ration the cottage cheese.  They had about half a cup left and they were both waiting for the other one to finish it off.

He was about ready to just tell her to take it.

He also didn’t understand how she’d stolen his dog from him.  Alpine had transferred her love and loyalty over to the strange girl within thirty seconds of meeting her, and it appeared that there would be no changing that anytime soon.  The dog was always at her side and wouldn’t even go outside to use the bathroom unless she sat on the porch, bundled in one of Bucky’s coats and wrapped in a blanket, and watched her.  Al didn’t even sleep with Bucky anymore.  She slept with the girl, her head on her back as if she was ensuring that she was still breathing.

On one hand, it was absolutely precious.

On the other, Bucky had lost his cuddle buddy.

But they gave each other a wide berth.  They never touched, which he was grateful for.  He didn’t… like touch.  And he got the implication that she didn’t either.

“You know, you living here kinda reminds me of the 2020 pandemic,” he said nonchalantly as they sat in the living room watching tv.  He was on the recliner, and she was curled up on the couch with Alpine in her lap.

Her head tilted to the side as she tore her attention from the movie playing on the tv.  “The what?”

Bucky blinked.  And then he blinked again.  “The…  The 2020 pandemic?  The pandemic three years ago?” He said slowly, his brows furrowed.  “Covid-19?  Everyone had to wear masks?  America was literally a cesspool of selfish assholes who were so stupid they believed Trump?”

“Trump…  Isn’t he that celebrity show host?  He was on Home Alone?  The Lost in New York one?” She asked.

He was going crazy.  He was sure of it.

“What?” She asked, sitting up a little straighter as she crossed her legs applesauce style, causing Alpine to whine before settling back down in her lap.  “Did I say something wrong?”

Bucky leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.  “Donald Trump became president in the 2016 election.  Then Biden won in 2020.”

Her eyes were wide, her cheeks flushed.  “Oh.”

“How did you not know?” He asked.

She shrugged, wrapping her arms around Alpine.  “I… haven’t watched the news… in a while…”

The man could understand that, but the whole ‘not watched the news’ in a bit really only worked when it came to things like… like a celebrity doing something stupid or a law being passed.  Two whole presidential elections?  That was…  That was Amish levels of ignorance.  Even if she didn’t watch tv, there were billboards and signs and merchandise like those stupid Make America Great Again hats.

As if America had ever been great.  And he had a double right to say that, since he’d been a stupid eighteen year old kid that the military had preyed on, getting him to join up and head overseas when America had no reason to be there.

He’d lost his arm because of it.

“How long has it been since you watched the news?” He questioned, his heart racing.  He had a bad feeling about it.  A really, really bad feeling that settled in his gut.

She buried her face in Alpine’s fur, her shoulders rising and falling as she huffed.

She’d put on some weight since getting there, thankfully.  He’d been making sure she got all her protein and started her on vitamins supplements he had.

“Eleven years…”

He paused, blinking slowly.  “Eleven years?  What the hell do you mean ‘eleven years?’”  He took a moment when he saw the way she flinched away from him.  He’d figured out pretty quick that she couldn’t handle any raising of the voice.  She’d shut down.  “I’m sorry.  I’m sorry.  But…  I still don’t know anything about you except your name.  Not even your last name.  I don’t know where you came from.  I still don’t know how the hell you ended up in my front lawn, half frozen to death.  I…”  He sighed.  “What happened?”

She was quiet for so long that he was sure she wasn’t going to reply.  He started to get ready to stand up, letting out a huff.

“I was thirteen,” I said quietly, my voice barely audible.  Alpine’s fur was so soft in my fingers and against my cheek.  It kept me grounded, kept me tied down to the Earth so I didn’t float away in the cloudy memories that covered the sky in my head.

Bucky was watching me closely, clearly surprised that I’d actually spoken.

My throat felt so dry.  “Um…  It was a few months after my birthday…  And I had just gotten a new phone.  It was… It was one of those sliding phones with a full keyboard?  It had a touch screen, and it was cherry red.”  I couldn’t help but let out a weak laugh as I remembered that stupid phone.  I’d been utterly obsessed with it, like any thirteen year old would be.  “I was in eighth grade and even though most people I went to school with already had an iPhone, that phone was the coolest thing ever.”

He was watching me in a way that was so intense, so focused.  I hadn’t ever had someone look at me like that.  Like he was actually listening.

“And, uh…  I used to walk to the river in the woods by my house,” I said, my voice growing soft again.  “I would go and sit and read on nice days…  I didn’t really have… friends.  I was a bit of a loner, and new.  We’d just moved there that April.”  My heart ached.  I missed that river.  I missed my parents.  More than anything.  “There was a man that I’d see sometimes at the river fishing…”

Bucky’s breath audibly hitched, and I could see his hands gripping his knees tightly.

“I was lonely,” I said, my voice cracking as I clutched onto Alpine that much tighter.  The puppy let out a whine as my eyes water.  “I didn’t have any friends yet.  I was an o-only child…  So, yeah, I’d talk t-to him.  I didn’t think it was wrong.  I f-figured if he was going to do something, he would’ve done it the f-first eighty times I s-saw him.”

“He took you, didn’t he?” He asked quietly, his voice gravelly.

Avoiding his eyes, I gave a short nod.  “Yeah.”

He stood up, his jaw set as he reached for his phone.  “We have to call the police.  If you were being held in a house on this mountain, then that means whoever took you lives close enough for you to have gotten here in a snowstorm.”

“NO!” I said as I scrambled up.  Alpine flopped to the side with a bark as she watched me scramble to knock his cell phone out of his hand.  “No cops!” I breathed out, eyes feral.

“Okay,” he said quietly, his voice soothing as he held up his hands in surrender.  “Okay.  No cops.  I won’t call the cops…”

I could see the confusion on his face, but a wave of relief washed over me as he agreed to not call the cops without asking too many questions.  I’d already shared so much.

“Do you want to watch a movie?” He asked, casually switching the subject as he sat back down.  He didn’t even grab his phone.

“Yeah.  Yeah, that sounds good,” I said as I took my seat again, swallowing thickly.  “Can we watch that one you were telling me about?” I asked as Alpine licked my face before settling in my lap once again.  “The…  The one about the Day of the Dead?”

An easy smile spread across his lips.  “Coco?  Yeah.  We can watch whatever you want.”

There was a shift in the air after she told Bucky about where she’d come from.  They still kept a generally wide berth, but… they were closer.  He was definitely in no hurry for her to leave.  Not when he could keep her safe in his cabin.

He felt a wave of protectiveness every time he thought of her.  He had someone to take care of now.  Other than Alpine and Steve when they were kids, he’d never had that.  Even Rebecca had been so independent growing up.

He liked having someone to protect, to take care of.  He liked checking in on her when he woke up in the morning and when he went to bed.

Which he’d started doing once she’d stopped locking her door at night.

Bucky liked preparing her breakfast and coffee for her in the morning, slowly helping her increase her food intake without hurting her tummy.  He liked checking in on her and making her laugh with his stupid jokes.

He liked… her.  She was easily the prettiest gal he’d seen, even if it was unassuming at first.

But he wasn’t a creep like the man who took her, whoever he was.  He wasn’t going to pressure her into being with him just because he was providing her shelter and food.

He wouldn’t use her like that.

And besides, it wasn’t as though she would want him.  She had just turned twenty-four that year, and he was forty-one.  There was a good seventeen year age gap, and it felt even wider once he’d realized that her education had effectively stopped at thirteen years old.

Of course, he’d started to remedy that.  He’d found some kind of online learning platform that he’d remembered from the pandemic.  Parents had started the free service in order to make sure that kids were still getting their education as schools shut down and they were pushed into Zoom classes in the autumn of 2020, after America failed and sent them back to school.

She was a lot smarter than she realized, and he made sure to tell her as often as possible.

They had a camaraderie that he hadn’t ever expected to find after he’d pushed Steve away.

Steve had been lucky.  He’d been good enough at drawing that he’d gotten a full ride to art school.  He didn’t have to enlist in order to have a future.

It wasn’t that Bucky was bitter about that.  Steve deserved it.  And now Bucky’s job was taking pictures of the mountains he lived on, and he got paid so much that he really only had to work a few months a year.

“You always talk about Steve,” she said softly one night as they ate dinner in the living room, as per their routine.  “Do you still talk to him?”

“Uh…  No,” he said quietly.  “Lately I’ve been thinking about reaching out, though…  I miss him.”

Her head tilted to the side as she looked at him, her spoon halfway to her mouth.  He’d made chicken tortilla soup, since that had apparently become her favorite.  “What happened?  If you don’t mind me asking…”

Bucky smiled weakly down at his own half empty bowl.  “Well…”  His spoon clinked against the side.  “It was hard after I came home… from overseas…  I’d lost my arm…  I wasn’t the same guy I was…”  He took a deep breath.  “I was angry… at everything… and I took it out on him, even when it wasn’t his fault…  And then one day I just packed up and left.  Found my way here.  I bought this place with the money I had and fixed it up…  It was a real dump.  Basically foreclosed.  But I spent an entire summer fixing it.  Had to get it done before the first snow.  And it also got me to figure out how to use my prosthetic.  It’s some… fancy experimental thing.”

There was a flicker of the lights, and then nothing.  It went completely dark.  The heater stopped, the clock on the top of the stove went off.

“Bucky?” She whimpered, the fear evident in her voice.

“Hey, it’s okay.  It’s okay.  I’m here,” he said as he used his phone flashlight to illuminate the situation a little bit.  “I’m gonna find some flashlights, okay?  You stay right there with Alpine.”

She nodded, setting her bowl to the side and wrapping her arms around the puppy.  “Okay…  H-Hurry back.”

Oh, he definitely would.  He didn’t wanna leave his bear cub alone for too long.

He found two flashlights in the basement before coming back.  “Okay, let’s get all the blankets and stuff together,” he said as he handed her one of them.  “It’s gonna get cold real quick without the heating working.”  There was no way he was gonna be able to get out to look at the generator with how heavy the snow was falling.

They piled all the blankets up on his bed before she crawled under the mountain of them, Alpine curling up next to her like always.

She watched as Bucky sat on the edge of the bed, watching the slow rise and fall of his back.  She could practically see the steam coming from his ears from how much he was overthinking.  “You can take your arm off, you know,” she said quietly, sitting up on her elbows.  “I’m…  I’m not gonna think it’s weird.”

Bucky let out a weak laugh.  “You sure, bear cub?” He asked, his voice wavering.  “I don’t want to freak you out…”

“Something that’s a part of you could never be bad,” she said quietly.

His heart stuttered inside his chest.  He didn’t know what to say in reply.  He’d never had someone say something like that.  His hand was shaking as he reached up and undid his prosthetic.  It was a whole thing he went through every night and every morning, since it was attached to his nerves.  He hissed as it finally came off, setting it in the open case on the ground as he rolled his shoulders a few times to get the tension out.

“See?” She said as she watched him, her eyes running over his back muscles and the scars that covered his shoulder.  “There’s nothing bad about you.”

Bucky slowly crawled under the blankets, staying on the other side of the bed.  He didn’t want to make her uncomfortable.

“You gonna stay over there all night?’

He blinked, and then he blinked again, his eyes staring up at the ceiling.  “I…  What?”

She was still sitting up on her elbows, her lower lip caught between her teeth.  Her eyes were flickering between the blankets and him.  “You don’t have to stay over there…  I’m not… gonna break if we cuddle, you know…”

Bucky’s heart stopped inside his chest as his mind went blank.  He suddenly wasn’t thinking anymore about how he might hurt her.  She wanted him.  Or at least… wanted him to cuddle with her.

Which he was more than happy to comply.

I scooted over a little closer to Bucky when I realized he was frozen staring at me.  He seemed to be in shock over the fact that I wanted to cuddle.

“Jamie?” I said softly, my fingers grabbing onto his arm and tugging him closer.  “Please?”

I watched as he swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he nodded.

“I mean…  You don’t have to,” I added quickly, feeling a flash of anxiety.  What if I had imagined everything?  The flirting?  The calling me bear cub?  “Not if…  Not if you don’t want to.”

Maybe my emotional growth was just as stunted as my educational growth.

But then moved closer to the center of the bed, his strong arm wrapping around my waist and pulling me close.  So close that I was lying on top of his chest.  He was so nice and warm.

And so strong.  He wasn’t like one of those guys in Hollywood or the bodybuilders that were all dehydrated in order to look like they had a twenty pack of abs or something.  He was the real kind of strong.

It was sexy as hell.

And it had been so long since I’d had a gentle touch…  Or had someone hold me just for the sake of holding me.

I hadn’t realized just how badly I needed it until Bucky was holding me close, his lips pressing to my forehead.

“James?  If you don’t mind me asking…  How did you lose your arm?”

I could feel the rise and fall of his chest as he took in my question.

“You don’t have to tell me.”

“No, I…  I want to,” he insisted as he brought me that much closer.  His chin rested on top of my head.  “I was on break…  And these little local kids loved playing hopscotch with us.  We’d draw out the hopscotch on the ground and we would use a little rock and all that…  Then one day, there was a truck out by the road.  One of ours.  We didn’t think anything of it even though it wasn’t where it was supposed to be.  We figured that out later.”  He pressed his lips to my head.  He was trembling, even if he was trying to hide it.  “We were searching for a good rock to use… and when I got close to grab a rock under the wheel… someone set off a bomb.  Blew my arm clean off.  It was all in… all in slow motion.”  Bucky sighed, shaking his head.  “I’d rather it be me then one of those little kids though.”

I sighed, squeezing him tight.  “You’re a good man, James.”  He clearly didn’t wanna think about it anymore, so I quickly changed the subject.  “Have you ever had someone braid your hair?” I asked as I reached up, running my fingers through his long hair.

“Can’t say I have,” he said, a chuckle reverberating through his chest.  “Why?  You wanna braid my hair for me, bear cub?”

I hummed, twirling a strand of his hair around my fingers.  “Mm…  I think it’d look real pretty braided…”

“Pretty?  You calling me pretty?” He snorted.

“Mmhm.”

“Why’s that?”

“‘Cause you’re pretty.”

By the blush on his cheeks, I could tell that he hadn’t ever been called pretty again.

And I knew I’d have to start calling him pretty a lot more.

Bucky had a shy smile on his face as he squeezed me closer to him, burying his face in my hair.  “You’re prettier, bear cub.”  He kissed my forehead again, humming.  “Get some sleep.  I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

It was another two months before there was a break in the snow long enough for them to be able to head to town for more groceries.  Plus, they needed to stop and get her some clothing that actually fit her.

Not that Bucky didn’t mind her wearing his clothes.  He liked it a lot, actually.  His little bear cub in his sweaters and such.

But she did want some pants that fit her proper and some underwear, at least.

And she was excited, but clearly anxious.  “Come on, Alpine,” she said happily as they ran out to the truck, Bucky following quickly behind.

“You’re adorable,” he said softly as he climbed in the driver’s seat.

“Shut it,” she said, covering her face in Alpine’s white fur.

He was falling for her.  Hard.  Even after the electric came back on, they hadn’t stopped staying in the same bed.  It just felt natural.  They hadn’t done anything more than cuddle, but he wasn’t exactly in a rush.  Bucky was very happily letting her take the reins when it came to how quick they moved.

But he did wanna talk to her about being together officially at some point.

The one thing he was really worried about was the fact that she still wouldn’t let him call the police.

He just wanted to find the man who had hurt her and wring his neck with his bare hands.

Or at least have him thrown in jail.  At the very least.

The first thing they did was get her some clothes and shoes so she could change into them, even though he was pleased to note that she did keep on his sweater.

She looked really, really good in green.

Like, really good.

“We need at least two containers of cottage cheese,” she said as she grabbed them, grinning.

“Oh, yeah?” He asked, coming up to her and wrapping his arms around her waist.  He couldn’t help it.  He loved touching her.  Preferred to have at least one hand on her at all times.  “Better make that three containers, bear cub.  From what I remember, someone ate an entire container in one sitting and then promptly threw all of it up.”

“I don’t know who you’re talking about.”  Her cheeks flushed as she nuzzled into him.  “And I only have two hands, James.”

A slow smirk spread over his lips as he looked at her pretty face.  He loved getting her all flustered.  “I didn’t say you had to grab it all at once.”  As if to make a point, he reached over and grabbed a third container, moving to set it in the cart.

It was when he had turned his head away for less than thirty seconds that he heard the sound of plastic hitting the ground, and saw cottage cheese splattered across the marble tiles.

“Bear cub?” He said in confusion as he looked around.  But she’d disappeared.  His brows furrowed as his eyes met Brock Rumlow’s, who was glowering at him for some fucking reason.  His eyes flickered down to his outfit, his heart stopping inside his chest when he saw the badge.

Brock Rumlow was a police officer.

His bear cub hated cops and refused to let him call the cops.

She’d disappeared when she saw him.

Fuck.

He didn’t like the thoughts that were running in his head.

Bucky had to find her before Brock did.

He didn’t even attempt to act nonchalant as he ran through the store, leaving the cart there.  His heart was absolutely racing.

Alpine wasn’t sitting outside the front door where they’d left her.

He rushed to the parking lot, breathing out a sigh of relief when he found her and Alpine in the truck, huddled down on the floor.  “Oh, thank fuck,” he breathed out as he got in the driver’s seat.  He didn’t even buckle before he was peeling out of the parking lot.  “He’s not gonna touch you, baby.  I promise.”

She looked up at him with glassy eyes, tears staining down her soft cheeks.  “H-He…  He’s the one who…”

“I know,” he said quietly as he reached over to take her hand, intertwining their fingers and squeezing.  He was flying up the mountain as fast as he could without spinning out, heading for the cabin.  “I know that it’s him.  But he’s not going to touch you, okay?  I’m not gonna let him.  I’m gonna protect you.”  He handed her his phone out of his pocket.  “Bear cub, can you go to my contacts and call Sam?  Tell him we need him as soon as possible.”

She nodded, her hands trembling as she found the name and called.  “H-Hello?  This is Bucky’s friend and w-we need someone at Bucky’s immediately.  Please.”

When they got back to the cabin, he rushed her inside.  “Go upstairs to our bedroom, lock the door, and then go to the bathroom and lock the door,” he said.  “Take the handgun in my bedside table with you.”

“J-Jamie, I’m scared,” she whimpered, her hands shaking.

He rushed forward, his hands holding her face as he pulled her into a kiss.  “It’s all gonna be okay.  But don’t come out for anyone that isn’t me, alright?” He said softly, caressing her cheeks.  “Take Alpine with you.”

She nodded, and he let out a sigh of relief as she went.

He grabbed the gun he had hidden in the living room, quickly loading it.  He knew that Rumlow would be coming up after them, especially if he was the one who had kept his precious girl kidnapped for over a decade.

He had a lot to lose.

But so did Bucky.  He’d just gotten his girl, and he wasn’t losing her anytime soon.

Bucky Barnes would not be losing the one person that made him feel human again.

And if it came down to it, and he died protecting her, he’d be okay with that as long as she was safe.  He’d just have to bring down Brock with him.

He stiffened as he heard the car pull into the drive with a roar and then the slamming of the door.  He knew it wasn’t Sam.  It would take him longer than that to get up there considering when they’d called.

Brock didn’t even bother knocking.  He shot through the lock and threw the door open.

It was all a blur.  Bucky shot at him and managed to catch him in the thigh, but Brock just kept coming.  He was pretty sure he had a bulletproof vest on, too.

“So this is where the little brat’s been?” Brock snarled, glaring as he pointed the gun at him.  “I figured she’d died out in the snow.  Would’ve been better if she had.”

Bucky wasn’t going to dignify it with a response.  He knew Brock was just trying to rile him up to get him to fuck up.  And he couldn’t let that happen when his girl’s life was on the line.

What he did do was aim at Brock’s hand and get him to drop the gun before he rushed forward and pinned him to the ground to wait for Sam.  He shoved him to the ground, glaring at him harshly.  “You will never touch her again,” he hissed, emphasizing each word as his hand wrapped around his throat and squeezed threateningly.  “And I’d fucking kill you now, but you don’t deserve a quick death.”  He spit in his face.  “I want you to get put in prison for life, and I want to hear about how your ass is getting kicked everyday for kidnapping and raping a little girl, and holding her hostage for over a decade.  I’m gonna personally make sure you never see the light of day again.”

As soon as the door opened and Sam came in with two other officers, he lifted his hands in surrender, getting off him once he knew that Brock wouldn’t be able to get out.

Before anyone could stop to question him, he ran upstairs.  “BABY?” He called out as he knocked on the bedroom door.

It took less than thirty seconds for his girl to open the door and throw herself into his arms, Alpine barking excitedly behind her.

“Hey, Alpine,” he said with a laugh as he scooped her up, wrapping her legs around his waist as she buried her face in his neck.  “Did you protect your mama?  Yeah?”

She let out a weak laugh as she nuzzled in further.  “Are you okay?” She asked, her voice cracking as she pulled back to look at him, holding his face as she checked him for injuries.

“Bear cub, he didn’t even touch me,” he said softly, holding her close.  “He’s in cuffs now, being put in the back of a cop car to go to prison…”  He kissed her forehead.  “He can’t ever get near you again.  They’re gonna search his place and it’ll all be over.  You never have to go back there ever again.”

I jerked awake, letting out a broken scream.  Sweat dripped down my back, tears rolling down my cheeks.

Alpine let out a worried whine from where she laid on my feet, keeping them toasty.

“Hey…  Hey, I’m here,” Bucky whispered sleepily as he brought me into his chest with his one arm.  His prosthetic had been taken off earlier.  “I’ve got you, bear cub…  I’m right here…”

I crumbled into tears as I was pulled onto his lap, my nose brushing against his neck.  “J-Jamie…”

“Was it the dream again?”

I nodded, my hands grasping at him to hold him close.  “I wa-was back in that basement…  W-With Him.”

He had gotten to see the basement first hand.  The concrete walls.  The dirty mattress that rested on the ground without any sheets.  The bugs and the rats that I had shared that space with.  The broken window that Brock had covered with a trash bag.  The cameras.

He’d seen me through the whole trial.

It didn’t take long for Brock to be put on trial and found guilty.  Hell, the jury only deliberated for an hour before coming back and giving their verdict.

With all the evidence from his cabin and his own poor defense, I didn’t even have to testify, which was a relief.

The piece of shit actually thought he’d get off easy.  But he got fifty years, and considering he was already over forty, it wasn’t likely that he’d ever get to leave prison again.

There was a bit of… question about what would happen to me after.  Where I would go.

My parents came to see me at Bucky’s, and they started talking about me going home with them and how they still had my room all set up.

But I just couldn’t leave Bucky and Alpine.  Not after everything.

And as much as I knew that me being taken wasn’t their fault, I didn’t feel safe with them like I did with him.

I thought Bucky was going to cry when I said that I wanted to stay with him.  He’d rushed to reassure them that he was going to take care of me and he was already working on helping me get my GED.

They seemed to like him, which was good.

And yeah.  The nightmares still came back sometimes.  I would always be haunted, even with my therapists’ help.

“I’ve got you…  He’s never gonna touch you again.  You’re safe,” Bucky whispered as he kissed my cheek.  He pulled back, his hand cupping my face.  “I love you.  And I’ll never let anyone hurt you ever again.  And you know Alpine won’t.”

“I know,” I said softly as I rested my head against his chest as he laid us down again.  “I love you, too.”

No, the nightmares didn’t go away.  But that didn’t matter when I had Bucky.

[vanchlo]

Effervescent

Blurb Synopsis: During your break, instead of going to the stuffy staff break room, you wander outside into the cool air by the waterpark. Unbeknownst to you, there you meet a bubbly stranger in the hot tub, and never again is your life the same. 

Genre: 2015 Harry, fluff, and romance.  

Word Count: 4.6k words

Pairing: Harry x Reader

Music Inspo: Champagne Supernova by Oasis (click to listen bc I love this song and it fits the theme I think?)

P.S. - Funny story, I found this in my Notes and I had started writing this in 2016. Crazy. I liked rereading it and figured I’d finish it, so don’t be too hard on me, please. Enjoy! ;) 

It was the dead of winter, but you couldn’t spend any more time inside, or in that lousy closet of a break room with your coworkers for another minute. They were well past getting on your last nerve, and you weren’t going to let them ruin your one slice of ‘me time’ today. 

Squeaky children’s voices and the sound of water hits your ears as you take a shortcut. The door opens with a little punch! when you press on the horizontal bar. Cold air meets your clammy skin quickly, refreshing you. A sigh of relief leaves your lips as your sweaty back meets the cold surface of the glass door. Pebbles grind beneath your feet and birds caw in the distance. When you turn to look around like any regular human being, you almost run right back into the door when you see the head of brown hair a few feet away, bobbing out of the water. 

“Didn’ mean t’ scare ya, love, ‘m sorry,” the mannish-boy says, pushing his long wet hair off of his face with his ringed fingers. 

“N-No it’s fine. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude, I’ll just-.”

“No, ’s okay. Ya gonna have a smoke or sumthin’?” he questions. Your head goes from side to side in answer. Meanwhile, he nods as steam rises from around him out of the round bubbling hot tub he sits alone in. His tattooed arms float on the surface, moving with the water slowly. 

“I was just getting some air on my break. I couldn’t stand to be in the break room not getting a minute to myself alone.”

“Ah, I can’ blame ya. I hate people like that when ‘m not in tha mood, they’re bloody annoying. Neva shut up, it seems,” he quips, his long pink lips spreading into his flawless white smile. 

“Yeah, you have no idea.”

He continues to smile at you, and the nagging thoughts poking at your mind all day are gone for a moment. “Why dontcha come over here? Gimme some company, how ‘bout?” he suggests, trying to wave you over. Water falls fast and long from his tall round bicep. Yeah, nope.

“I don’t think I should,” you respond, but those words couldn’t be further from the truth. 

“Ah c’mon, love, ‘m bored as fook by meself out ‘ere. Come talk t’ me, will you?” he says, moving slowly. Part by small part, you see more of his tan chest as he sits on the underwater bench with his back against the dark tiles. Black swallows fly under his collarbones, and a gleaming silver necklace surrounding his throat dangles down his chest. 

“I don’t want to get in trouble, or something.”

“Yer not gonna cuz yer not botherin’ me. Even if somebody said anythin’, why would I have any reason t’ back ‘em up, huh? Yer not causin’ me any harm, and I wann’ talk t’ ya,” he continues, and it’s hard to refuse. He’s a good negotiator, and you’re slowly becoming an icicle second by second. 

“Aren’t you here with anybody?” you ask as your feet slowly pad on the gray cement over to him. He leans forward absentmindedly playing with the bubbles, while still keeping eye contact. 

“No,” he answers softly with a helpful shake of his head. Your eyes follow his hands that cup some of the bubbly foam in his long fingers. 

You sink to your knees and then your butt when he gives you a look. His green eyes hold a question as his thick brown eyebrows furrow along with his rose lips. Wincing when your butt touches the cold cement, you cross your legs as your arms go around your tall legs. 

“Here,” he mumbles out of nowhere. A fluffy white hotel towel lands at your side in a blink. “Don’ wantcha t’ freeze yer bum off.”

Your lips drop a short ‘thanks’ as you awkwardly place it under your bottom to ward off the cold. You make the mistake of meeting his eyes and you giggle a rosy cheeked laugh. 

“Wha’?” 

“Nothing,” you sigh with the laugh beginning to wear off, cheeks pinched with red and warmth. 

“Ya got a pretty smile, ya know that?”

“You’re so cliche, do you know that?” you reply and he scoffs, with a held out ‘ruuuude’ leaving his happy lips. “But thank you.”

The hot water bubbles against the side only inches away, so close and yet so far away. Your sweaty Converses and gross socks covering your clammy feet itch to join him. A black polo shirt and khaki skinnies don the rest of your shivering body. A tinge of awkwardness hangs in the air between you and this stranger. Frequent shared glances holding tiny smiles and questions you know the both of you want to ask float between you. 

“How long have ya worked here?” 

“Too long,” you quip, and his lips turn up again. You realize that you really like it when you make him smile, no matter how little. He has a pretty smile, and it goes past the chill and warms you up to the bone. 

Water droplets cling to his skin every place and everywhere. The heat in the water flushes his skin, especially his cheeks which remain a soft pink. It doesn’t compare to the warm pink of his lips that he plays with, with both his tongue and his fingers. Please never wake me up from this dream. 

You play with the frayed laces on your black low tops, the muffled screams from inside tickling your ears along with the somewhat calming sound of the bubbling water. It invites you in, more and more. 

“C’mon, you,” he mumbles. You look up, startled to find him sitting before you, floating in the water. His wet hands wrap around the tan ankles of your pants, and you nearly yelp. 

“What do you think you’re doing?!”

“Get yer shoes off already, at least dip yer toes in. Makin’ me feel all bad, cuz ya look like yer freezin’ yer bits off sittin’ there. I wish ya could  come in with me,” he replies. By now, he’s already worked one of your shoes off. 

“No, please. You don’t want to do that.”

“Yesssss, I do. They’re jus’ feet, darlin’, we all have ‘em,” he titters, flinging the shoe to the side and then the other one. That leaves you in a mismatched pair of ankle socks; blue and red stripes on the left and a Batman one donning your other foot. 

He makes a grinning comment about ‘your cute socks’ as his warm fingers tickle the sliver of skin between your pant leg and socks. 

“Alright, buddy,” you tell him, trying to pull your legs away. His hands encircle both of your ankles and he looks back at you, grinning with his tongue poking out between his teeth. 

“No, jus’ dip yer feet in, pleaseeee.”

“Okay fine, just let me take them off myself. I don’t need a stranger getting comfy feeling up my nasty feet,” you joke, looking up briefly to catch his reaction. The cute as fuck dimples in the middle of his cheeks are beginning to fall and grow deeper before a laugh rumbles through his chest. 

How cute can he get?

“Suit yerself. I woulda taken up tha offer, but tha’s jus’ me.”

“That’s because you’re a weirdo,” you answer, voice breaking into a laugh as you roll up the socks into one ball and set them to the side. You thank your past self for getting that cheap ass manicure the other day. 

“Takes one t’ know one,” he comments, holding his hands up like you’d do when you say ‘I don’t know’ as his wet hair begins to curl at the end. It’s long and almost touches his broad shoulders, and you continue to have a hard time believing this shit is real. That he’s real, and talking to you. 

It takes a second to get used to the water when you dive in, well the few inches that swallows up your feet, give or take. You admit it feels good, but you wouldn’t admit it out loud to him, because it’d only fuel his witty fire. 

He splashes water at you, but you get him back quickly. He even blows bubbles with his mouth and then spits the water at you. You retaliate by jabbing him in the side with your feet under the water. Uncalled for jokes fly from him, and sometimes good comebacks from you. These float into aloud thoughts about favorite foods, ranging from cold ice cream, to slushies, and to chocolate cake. Begging comes from his side about you ditching the rest of work and joining him for real. 

It all sounded so good, and it was so good. 

He’s humming some song you know but can’t put a name to, making little noises with his lips. His fingers tickle the bottom of your feet, every now and then. When you rarely take your eyes off him, you notice more about him. His skin remains flushed, and when your eyes fall to your watch, you feel yours flush too. You sense your heart drop inside your chest, which makes you feel dramatic and lame, but you can feel it there hanging heavily a little lower. 

You look back to him, sitting close to you with his head leaned back on the edge of the fake rock surface. His eyes are closed and lips humming a song again. With a quiet sigh, you draw your feet back and out, drying them with the towel, trying to leave it still usable for him. Slipping your socks back on is a sticky process with grunting. At the sound of the second or third one, his swimming green eyes open and dart to you questioningly.

“What, where’re you goin’?” he asks, sitting up and turning towards me.

“I have to go back to work, my break is up.”

“What, no,” he frowns and you giggle. He’s funny, but you know he doesn’t mean it. You hardly know him, and he doesn’t even know you. It was fun while it lasted, a nice little distraction, but now you have to go back to reality. 

“I’m sorry.”

“’s okay,” he replies, looking away from you and down, playing with the foamy bubbles with his pruney fingers. 

“Thanks for . . I don’t know what to thank you for really.”

“Don’ worry ‘bout it. Thank ya, too,” he smiles at you as you stand up. Maneuvering your heel into your right shoe, that’s always the tricky one, it slips in after a few seconds of trying as he stares up at you. Although an understatement, it pains you to leave. 

“Bye, love.”

“Bye,” you mumble quietly, walking to the door and stealing one last look at him as you open it and step inside. You’re granted to never see him again - the cute and sweet hot tub guy. No, don’t go making up nicknames for him now. 

You wish that you could thank him, but you don’t even know his name. 

*

The day dragged on, turning up rooms and putting them back together. You cleaned this and that, and everything in between. At times, you were sweating like a whore in church, and your back and feet ached constantly. 

By the time your shift ended, it had grown dark and the stars were peeking out from the black of the sky. Getting off the elevator, you walk down the hall and find the lobby. Suddenly, your feet bring you somewhere else, through the emptying water park and to the fogged up door. Your fingers wrap around the cold metal bar and you prepare yourself, or try to.  

What will you say? What will you do?

Slowly opening the door, you realize those few seconds talking yourself up were futile because the hot water is still. The lights in the water shine clear against the dark night with no disturbance. Because he's gone.

Turning around and walking back inside, you try to hide your frown as you go to clock out and leave. Disappointment floods your veins, making you feel stupid and pathetic. With a sigh, you walk out the doors into the cold trying to remember his laugh, and his smile. 

Ones that you’ll never see again, and you hate how awful knowing that makes you feel.

*

The next day when you showed up for another exhausting day of work, a light shown at the end of the tunnel. Although your shift was tiring, the only good thing about getting up early was to get off early. That fact kept you sane throughout most of the day, despite the thoughts that have been nagging at you to quit this lousy housekeeping job that you’ve stuck with for far too long. Sure, it paid alright, but it was hard on your body and some of the things you had to endure were ridiculous, you thought. 

Before you knew it, you were bypassing the employee break room and walking through the lobby. The keys on your lanyard jangled and only were silent when you used them to open your car. Now with a jacket around your shoulders, your steps were covered in snow on the way back to the sliding doors, that is until you heard a voice. A voice calling your name. It took you a second to realize where it was coming from, but when your eyes ventured to the left side of the building, it all clicked when you saw the steam rising into the air. 

“‘s you, innit? I thought so! Hey, two days inn’a row. Come say hi, love. ‘m here all in me lonesome ‘gain,” the stranger calls to you from across the parking lot. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you mutter under your breath, but your words leak of lies as a smile curls among your lips. “I guess, but I don’t want you touching my feet again!” 

“Deal, but ya gotta take off yer shoes yerself then, or else ya can’t come!” 

Luckily, the hotel doesn’t have a fence or barricade around the outside hot tub like most do. Instead, a low rock wall shields it from view, but you’ve always found it tacky and worthless. 

“On our break again, are we?” he hums from the confines of the hot tub as you approach him, glad for your jacket this time. You nod a reply as you grab the plastic chair somebody had dragged out here and left, both things they weren’t supposed to do. “Noooo, don’t sit so far away from me. Come dip yer toes in again, please,” he whines, waving a wet hand at you. 

You relent and begin to toe off your shoes as he giggles from his spot across from you, leaning against the edge of the tub. The sight makes you feel warmer than you actually are in the December air. More tattoos peek out amongst the glistening skin of his arms spread out on the lip of the tub, resting there. 

“Do you do anything besides sit in here?” you question, rolling your two socks into a ball before he hits you in the chest with a towel. 

“Not really. ‘s too bloody loud inside with all tha kids, and my hotel room ‘s too quiet.”

“Wow, it sounds like you have such a rough life,” you joke, the temperature of the water surprising you when you dip a foot in. His revelation does as well, although you’re not sure why. Regardless, it still causes you to wonder if you’ve been into his room recently if only to deliver towels. 

“Oh, so rough,” he confesses dramatically, arms falling into the water when he sinks down into it. You laugh at how he becomes a noodle in the water, and soon the sound is stolen away when he drifts over to you. His warm hand comes around your ankle and tickles along the bottom of your foot. 

“That’s whatcha get fer bein’ mean, make me sound all shallow and that rubbish,” he teases while loud laughs and protests jump from your lips. 

“Stop!” you repeat again and again until he relents, but your right foot remains in his hand as he seemingly kneels on the bottom of the hot tub. 

“Hmmmm, blue toes. That’s a new one,” he hums, running a finger over one of your painted toenails that you painted teal last night. 

“I said I didn’t want you touching my feet, you weirdo. Do you have a foot fetish or something?” 

“No, don’t be bloody rude. I can’t comprehend how people get that kinda satisfaction from feet, sumthin’ must be wrong with ‘em,” he tsks, shaking his head of drying curls as he releases your foot. Your agreeing smile is replaced with a sad one when he disappears under the water with a groan, appearing seconds later with a tense face. “Sumtimes wish I could spend forevea unda there.”

“You must be a water bug, like me,” you note aloud, savoring the sight of his thick arms reaching to his head, pushing back his long wet hair back. Now, it touches his shoulders with the help of the balmy water. 

“Think so, always loved swimmin’ since I was a kid. ‘d be in tha pool if a dozen kids weren’t hoggin’ it, and if tha winter didn’t make me feel so damn cold all tha time,” he remarks with a smile as you slip your other foot in, letting the water reach to the middle of your lower legs. “Yer a water bug too, huh?”

“Yeah, I swam competitively all throughout high school. I feel at home in it.”

“Hmmm, sounds like some kinda psychology theory t’ me. ‘m sure it’d say somethin’ happened in yer brain through all o’ that, y’know ya been in tha water so much ya feel at home in it, blah blah,” he says, bringing his golden arms to the edge of the hot tub to your right where he lays them. His stubbly chin comes to rest on them as you accidentally touch his ribs with your foot, but he doesn’t even notice, it seems. 

“Thank you for the lecture, professor, it was really fascinating,” you respond, fake dramatics shining in your voice as you clap your hands. He rolls his eyes before splashing warm water at you. “Hey, I have to go back to work in these clothes, so you better not get them as wet as you did last night.”

“Ya? What’re ya gonna do ‘bout it, love?” 

You reply with a tight-lipped sigh that elicits sing-song laughter from his rose-colored lips that await below you. Your eyes trail to his long torso and legs blurry under the water, short yellow swim trunks donning his waist. 

The thoughts that bloom inside of your mind, like wondering how tall he is and what the rest of him looks like out of the water, escape you when you see the time. 

“Noooo, don’ leave ‘gain, we jus’ got talkin’,” he whimpers when you tell him, sticking his bottom lip out at you. 

“I can’t not go back to work,” you explain, drawing your feet from the warmth only to return to the chill. 

A sad noise sounds behind his frowning lips, and a matching expression paints his flushed face. You wish you knew his name when he won’t let go of your leg, making you suddenly glad you had shaved them again last night after your run-in with him. 

“When d’ya get off?”

“Eight,” you respond, earning a nod from him. 

“Alrighty, well stop by again, I might be here.”

“Okay,” you answer simply as you slip your shoes back on, a feeling growing in your gut unpleasantly. 

“Have a good day,” he smiles at you as you walk away. “And smile, cuz ya have a pretty one!” 

*

The hallways were quiet with few guests remaining outside of their rooms, and the parties occupying the waterpark now over. The big slides and arcade were closed by the time you slipped back into the emptying cavernous room. You forced smiles at lifeguards and the coworker behind the food bar on your way to the door leading outside. The entire way there after clocking out, you seethed with regret from forgetting a swimsuit earlier today. When your feet take you outside to the fluorescent lights playing along the chlorinated water, you’re unsure which you regret worse - forgetting to bring a swimsuit, or getting your hopes up only to find his messy head of brown hair to be missing from the hot tub. Again. 

*

You had the next day off from work, which had you thanking the high heavens to be free from that prison. You were brimming with thankfulness, and yet you found yourself standing in the hotel lobby the next morning, a bag over your shoulder holding a swimsuit and towel. Once you had gotten a day pass from a coworker, although not free as you had hoped, you wandered into the deafening waterpark. The foggy door across the large room called your name, and soon you found your palm pressed to the warm metal pushbar once again. The brisk winter air is a shock when you enter it, and you find your mission to be fruitless when the bubbling water is empty.

Your tennis shoes squeak on the slippery cement as you turn to leave. Thoughts muddle your mind, and your day depressingly empty of any plans pulls you back to the singing water. After sliding off your shoes and stepping out of your clothes, the water welcomes you in your bathing suit. At first, you’re grateful that you’re alone and no noisy kids are interrupting your peace and quiet, but it doesn’t last long. You spend the time playing on your phone and replying to text messages, even playing a game or watching a YouTube video. 

Half an hour or so had passed already, and by then you had moved around the large space. This included sitting on the varying height of steps when you grew too warm, perched on the ledge with only your legs in, or sometimes almost sitting on the bottom of the tub. 

Tucked in the corner near the little opening to swim in from the inside hot tub, you hear the outside door open. The first smile of your day tickles at your lips when you watch who the door spits out. He doesn’t notice you at first surprisingly, consumed by his phone in his hands. The same couldn’t be said for you as you marvel at the sight of him, and how normal of one it is. The water seems to grow hotter by the second while you watch him peel off his Fleetwood Mac shirt to leave him in those same banana colored shorts. A shotty whistle leaves your lips before a giggle follows it, and you’re graced with the arrival of his smile when he turns around to find you there. 

“Hey, stranger, funny meeting you here,” you mumble, a jet of water pounding against your spine. Dimples collapse into his cheeks as his smile grows, his long chestnut hair tickling his face. 

“Hullo, love. Looks like I finally got me wish,” he says, setting down his phone on the nearby glass table, right across from your own. 

“Really, what’s that?”

“This,” he answers, nodding at you as he turns to face you. He sure is a sight for sore eyes, you wonder as your eyes run over his long body painted with black ink. “I can splash you all I want now,” he finishes, kicking a foot towards you as he saunters down the stairs, a spray of water hitting you square in the face. 

“Hey!” you exclaim, dragging your hand through the water to hit him in the chest with it. 

“So ‘s gonna be that way, huh?” he argues, dipping both hands into the rolling bubbles to drench the rest of your dry hair. 

You groan loudly, and it doesn’t end when your arms go around his toned waist to yank him into the water. He falls but catches himself too late, getting dunked into the water. The chuckle leaves your lips that very second and grows louder when he emerges from the water, a disappointed look on his face as he moves his hair off his face. 

“Yer a feisty one, arentcha?” he quips, wagging a finger at you, receiving your nod. “Silly me.”

The giggle dies down when nerves overcome you as he sits down beside you on the underwater concrete bench, his leg brushing yours. 

“You never told me your name,” you mutter quietly, crossing and then uncrossing your legs anxiously. 

“Dunno why I should afta all that,” he responds lightheartedly, still fixing his hair that refuses to cooperate much to your amusement. “‘s Harry, if ya must know.”

“Harry, hmm, that fits you,” you hum, finding the dark and light speckles in his green irises that sit so close to yours. Dark stubble lines his cheeks all over, you notice, as well as the tiny tattoos that hide amongst the larger ones claiming his body. 

Your name flows from your lips and he mocks you, saying something about how you look like your name. The sound of the rolling bubbles and jets fills your absence of conversation as you lean your head back. 

“How many days are you here for, Harry?” you inquire, admiring the tiny snowflakes that begin to fall, immediately melting when they hit the water. 

“A couple mo’.”

A few greasy pepperoni pizzas, cherry slushies, stale tortilla chips with goopy nacho cheese, and over buttered popcorn fill the rest of your day. A few appearances on the waterslides and in the pool occupy your time, as well as him throwing you in more than once. The laughs never seemed to be shy to either of your lips, whether on the tube slide or in the corner of the hot tub. 

The sun had set long ago, and your skin had grown pruney far before then. You were both exhausted after your day spent in the waterpark and in the hot tub you had returned to, the chlorinated water always seeming to get the best of you no matter your age, like now. Harry’s eyes were closed beside you, and they didn’t open when you tapped his nose with your finger. A raspy question escapes his smirking lips, and when you don’t answer them, you find tiredness adorning his greens. 

“The waterpark closes soon,” you murmur, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. He nods as his long fingers card through his dark locks. He lifts a finger and inches it towards himself, calling you to him. “What?” you ask, feigning annoyance. 

“Wanna tell ya sumthin,” he whispers, the sugary smell of his second cherry slushie tickling your nose. You relent and scooch closer to him, until your thigh is flush against his. “Think we could do this again t’morrow, and tha day afta that, and afta that?” he asks, a smile transforming his blushing face only inches from yours. A nod shakes the wet tendrils of your hair automatically, and quickly the prickly nervousness that had disappeared hours before, returns. 

“Good, I can’t wait. Wanna go sumwhere t’ get dinna, ‘m starvin’?” 

“Yeah, we should go then, the attendants will be shutting off stuff in a few minutes,” you insist, but all thoughts fleet you when his hand settles on your arm. 

“That’s okay, I only need a few minutes t’ do one last thing,” he murmurs, and your eyebrows raise in question. 

They remain stuck there as he nears you, and only do they relax a few seconds into the kiss he plants on your lips. The sickeningly sweet taste of artificial cherries graces your lips as yours move with his. Your cheek tingles when his hand brushes against it, drawing you nearer to him when it finds a place there. He giggles into your mouth as he knocks a foot against yours while his fingers explore your hair. His taut arm is slick under your touch and yet it feels better than you could have imagined, eliciting another titter from him when he flexes it on purpose. When he begins to pull away, your hand drifts to his sloping back. Your fingers press against his warm skin there until the taste of cherries consumes your lips once again, drowning out his name. 

Maybe this job isn’t too bad, after all. 

[princecharmingmendes]

Paris | Day Three

When your parents decide to travel with your best friend’s family that you haven’t talked to in a while, who you have a massive secret crush on, what could go wrong, right? Right?! (best friends to lovers)

*Word Count: 3.5k

*Warnings: cursing, drinking, fluff and more fluff

*Posted: December , 2019

        day one  |  day two   

                                                        -*-

I woke up the next day and headed straight to shower, I needed to get my hair clean. Stepping out of the shower/tub combo, I wrapped myself in a towel and started to apply a basic layer of makeup and blow dry my hair for the photos we would be taking that day, obviously, it’s not like I’m trying to have someone’s attention. Especially not Shawn’s. And it’s cold outside, my skin gets messed up and I don’t want to catch a cold due to wet hair.

Going back to the room wrapped only in a white fluffy towel and my lace underwear I almost had a heart attack as I see a sleeping giant spread all over my bed. Thank God he’s asleep. I quickly grabbed the robe that was hanging in the small wardrobe and wrapped it around me, dropping the towel on my way to my bed.

“Shawn?” I barely whispered touching his shoulder lightly but I got no response “hey, Shawnie, wake up” I said a little louder and he just grumbled something, nuzzling his face deeper in my pillow “hey, big guy, whatcha doing here?”

“M’tired n it smells like you” he mumbled with his eyes still closed.

“You need to go get ready so we can eat breakfast”

“Nah, lay here with me just five more minutes”

“Fine, but no shower for you unless it takes five minutes”

“Whatever you want” he said grabbing my wrist and pulling me to his chest, wrapping his arms around me and holding me tight against his warm body “you smell so good right now, baby...” he said nosing my hair.

“Good, just got out of the shower, that’s what I intended” I said trying to kill those damn butterflies and keeping it funny, but he didn’t laugh. He simply continued.

“Your skin is so fucking soft, I could spend the whole day just rubbing my fingers on you” he said gently caressing my back up and down “you’re so tiny and cold compared to me, I just feel like holding you all the time, to keep you safe and warm, and your eyes... damn I could spend my whole life just looking into them” he said finally and just stopped, seaming to be sound asleep.

What the hell was that? Why do I feel so much warmer now? Why do I feel like crying AND kissing him?! AT THE SAME TIME!

I waited a little bit more before brushing a curl out of his face.

“Shawn, honey, you need to get ready” I said softly, kissing his chin “please, wake up, we can take a nap later, I promise” and with that, he slowly opened his eyes but closed them again shortly after, nodding.

So I got up and picked up an outfit that was a little more dressy to match the place we’re going, which is the Versailles’ Palace and styled my hair real quick. When I was putting on my accessories, Shawn appeared from his room looking a lot more awake.

“Hi, sleepyhead” I said smiling at him through the mirror.

“Hi, sorry about that, I don’t know what got into me”

“It’s okay, you ready?” I asked turning to him.

“Yes, ma’am, even respected your five minute shower rule” he said with a light chuckle, grabbing my phone and purse for me.

So he remembers what he said?!

“Shall we?” He asked opening the door for me.

“Sure” I said following him to the elevator, only to meet Liyah and Flo already waiting on it.

“Hi, did you guys sleep well?” Flo asked.

“Like a log” I replied grinning.

“Yeah, we figured”

“It took me a while to get to sleep, but after that everything was fine” Shawn said as the doors opened and we started a light conversation about whatever.

We had a great breakfast, with a lot of laughter and random subjects flying around us. Our parents showed up a little later and sat beside us, also eating and then we hopped on a transfer or whatever and went straight to the Palace. The place was mesmerizing, completely breathtaking. And the further we got into the building with the tour guide and stuff, my jaw dropped even more. Everything was perfect, from the floor to the ceilings, all the windows and shit.

“Dude, imagine living in here!”

“Don’t ‘dude’ me, we talked about it already, but yeah, it would be sick” Shawn said playfully and I rolled my eyes.

“It would be a lot more than sick, it out be phenomenal, imagine being a prince and having all of this to yourself”

“Yeah, but I wouldn’t fit in here”

“You?! Shawn Mendes! Shut up!”

“I’m serious here, honey, I wouldn’t be a good prince”

“Of course you would, you are extremely kind and generous, and loving and caring” I said looking at my feet as I said “Shawn, you would be the perfect prince! Just like Prince Charming!” And with that he chuckled.

“Not really, I like walking around shirtless and with just socks on my feet”

“Like that’s exactly what would make you less then an amazing prince”

“You’re saying all these like you wouldn’t be a perfect princess yourself”

“Me?! Are you insane? I know you love me and stuff, but Shawn, I can’t even walk with proper posture”

“That’s all about practice, and you danced when you’re younger”

“Ages ago!”

“And? You’d look amazing dressed as a princess”

“Oh, stop it!” I said feeling my whole face heating up.

“I swear, cross my heart and hope to die”

“Thanks...” I said blushing even harder and biting my lower lip.

“Honey...” Shawn said closing his eyes momentarily “please, don’t”

“Don’t what?” I asked and he just shook his head “oh no! Don’t you dare keep that to yourself, you’ve been doing this a lot lately”

“Sorry” he said running his thumb across my cheek, cupping my jaw in the process and I just nodded, completely lost in his eyes “good, baby”

“Y/N?” I heard my mom call but I couldn’t seem to do something about it, I was on another place.

“Baby, your mom’s calling” Shawn said stopping his thumb above my lips and I just hummed in response.

“Y/N!” Mom said louder and I turned my whole body on her direction.

“Yes?”

“It’s almost four, we’re leaving for lunch, are you staying or going with us?” Mom said smiling at us.

“Hm, my feet actually hurt, I was thinking about grabbing something fast and heading for the hotel to rest a bit”

“Okay, darling, what about you, Shawn?”

“I guess I’m going with her” He said laying his big hand on my lower back.

“Okay, see you guys tonight for the boat ride” Karen said waving.

Then we called an Uber and headed back. But in the middle of the way, I noticed that we were too close to the hotel to grab lunch.

“Shawn?”

“Yes, honey?”

“Where are we going?”

“I’m taking you to the hotel because of your feet, then I’m gonna run to that fast food restaurant on the next block and grab us lunch”

“God, I love you so much” I said and he grabbed both of my legs to place it on his lap.

“Love you too, baby, how bad it hurts?”

“A little... bit too much” I murmured trapping my lower lip between my teeth.

“Baby...” he said looking away and squeezing my ankle lightly.

“Sorry”

“Do you even know what you’re apologizing for?”

“Hmm... no?” I said and he chuckled, getting out of the car and helping me out of it, thanking the driver. Pulling me into the lobby of the hotel “where are you going?”

“Upstairs?”

“To...?”

“To be your company”

“Just to leave five minutes later?”

“Yeah...?”

“Just go, don’t want to bother you even more, I’ll just wait in your room, or I can go upstairs real quick and change shoes”

“But they’d still be hurt, just rest”

“Are you sure? I don’t mind”

“Oh, but I do, just go” he said and I giggled, stepping towards the elevators.

I got to our floor and into our room, removing those damn heels and feeling that known pain of finally having a plane surface under it, and my toes not being pressed anymore by the pointe shoes. So I went to my bathroom and removed my makeup, pulling my hair in a messy bun and taking my pants and coat off. And then I went to Shawn’s room to turn up the temperature a little bit higher and I ended up finding one of his massive hoodies laying on his bed, and it seemed so cozy and warm, so I just putted it on to warm me up a little and took a seat at the end of his bed to find a movie.

A few minutes later I heard the lock of the door being opened and Shawn’s incredibly angelic voice filling the room, making me smile instantaneously. He was looking at his phone, hugging to huge paper bags with his other arm and I jumped out of the bad, reaching for the bags to help him. And then he saw me and he seemed to freeze in place. And that’s when I noticed that I was still wearing his hoodie, and basically just it and a pair of fuzzy socks. Shit!

“I’m gonna go change and...”

“No!” He cut me right away biting his lips, making my whole body tingle “please, don’t”

“Are you sure? I’m so sorry, I was just using it to warm up a little, but I got distracted and...”

“Shhh, it’s okay, honey, you look so cozy and insanely se...cute in my clothes, keep it”

“Oh, okay” I said flushing “so... let’s eat?”

“Yeah! I grabbed your favorites and tones of fries”

“You’re perfect, where are we staying?”

“Here, let’s sit on the bed and just relax”

“Deal” I said crawling up the bed and sitting with my back against the headboard. Shawn quickly mimicked me sitting by my side with our food.

We ended up picking a random movie on his Netflix account, one from the list of the ones he had watched recently and ate happily our junk food. In the middle of the movie, all the bags tossed nicely in the corner of the room, I felt something bumping my thigh and I ignored it first. But then, I felt the pads of fingers tracing little patterns on it, giving me goosebumps. A few strokes latter and he placed his whole hand above my thigh, giving it a little squeeze, making me bite my lips.

“Honey, please don’t do that” he said lower than normal.

“Sorry” I murmured locking my eyes on the TV.

He started running up and down like he had the whole time on the planet, making me stomach do back flips inside me. When his hand slipped  to my inner thigh my breath got caught on my throat and I almost choked. He noticed and got completely still, so did I, cause I mean, this is everything I’ve ever wanted, but by his reaction, he didn’t do it with the same intentions I’d like him to. Plus, that could possibly ruin our relationship, since he doesn’t feel anything about me in that way, and I do. So, anyway, that would only end with my heart shattered in a billion of pieces.

“So... great movie, eh?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m really tired tough, I’m not paying that much of attention”

“Do you wanna take a nap, baby?” He asked softly and I just nodded, slipping on the bed, burying on the comforters and Shawn, apparently, wasn’t happy with that, so he maneuvered me to lay on his lap “just so you can get more comfortable”

“M’kay” I said nuzzling into his warmth even more, and I felt his fingers combing through my hair, making me sleepy.

“Shhh, relax, babygirl, I’ll wake you forty minutes before we have to go so you can get ready, okay?” He suggested softly and I dozed off.

What felt like ages later, I heard someone mumble something really close to my face and I felt the bed moving lightly. When I opened my eyes, I met Shawn’s neck and that got me startled, making me sit up immediately.

“No, come here” he mumbled pulling me back to his chest.

“Shawn, what?”

“I fell asleep too, but I did set an alarm clock”

“And it rang”

“Yeah, but now we need ten more minutes”

“I need to get ready, big guy”

“No, you don’t, you always look fantastic” he said opening his eyes slowly and I felt my heart melt with those hazel orbes.

“Shawn...”

“Hm?”

“You can’t do this to me”

“Do what?”

“You just can’t, okay?”

“Why?”

“I gotta go, sweetheart” I said Kissing his forehead and sitting up.

“Y/N”

“Come in if you need anything” I said rushing to my room.

God, it’s only been like, three days and I almost spilled everything! What’s wrong with me?!

                                                        -*-

“Honey? Liyah called and asked me to do something for her, so I guess we’ll meet downstairs? Is that okay?” Shawn’s voice came from the other side of the door separating our bedrooms since our vibe was completely off. THANKS TO ME.

“Yeah, yeah, sure, I’m almost ready, see you in like... ten?”

“Okay, Y/N, see you”

Oh, I’m screwed, he called me by my whole first name.

I shook my head and focused on my makeup. I decided since today was a fancier dinner and stuff I’d go with a matching outfit. I picked a pair of black tights proper for really cold weather (kind of a thermal thing} and topped with a little red satin dress, that was loose on the right places, and obviously thigh high boots, a scarf and a heavy overcoat.

I curled my hair nicely, my make up was light but there, with fake lashes and red lipstick. I’m so damn nervous. What if he didn’t like it? No. Stop it. You’re doing this for yourself, you don’t need anyone else’s approval. If he likes you, he would like you in anything you’re wearing, if not, thank u, next!

Okay. I’m done.

I grabbed my purse, sprayed a little bit more of perfume and unplugged my phone from it’s charger, and then left the room. When the doors of the elevator opened, I saw my sister, Aaliyah and Shawn sitting on the corner of the lobby, so I made a bee line in their direction, being quickly stopped by a hand gripping my arm, making me turn around and met a pair of really blue eyes.

“Can I help you?”

“I think you dropped this” he said showing a little lipstick that was indeed mine.

“Oh, thank you” I said smiling politely and grabbing the little tube.

“You’re welcome, I’m Charles, hm... I’m sorry, but can I have your name?”

“Oh, yeah, Y/N”

“Oh, that’s beautiful”

“Thanks” I said with a tight lip smile.

“I’m sorry, but... are you alone?”

“Me? No, I’m...”

“Honey?” I heard Shawn’s voice from behind me.

“Oh, hi” I said turning to him and smiling.

“You look amazing, again”

“Thank you, you don’t look bad yourself” of course not, he looked like he just got off a runaway.

“Who’s him?”

“He’s... I’m sorry, you are...”

“Charles”

“Yeah, that’s it! He was just giving me something I dropped”

“Oh, thanks, dude, can we go? Your parents are here” he said placing his arm around my waist.

“Yes, thank you... Charles?”

“Yeah, that’s it, yeah, whatever”

Shawn and I turned around and walked to our families.

“Was he bothering you?”

“No, he was whatever, I was just going to tell him I was going to meet you guys”

“Uh, sorry”

“It’s okay, thank you for coming after me anyway” I said and he grinned at me.

“Hm... when I said you looked amazing, again, I wasn’t lying, you look so good right now”

“Thanks” I said feeling my cheeks flush and my legs turn into jelly, he just smirked.

“I love that it’s so easy to make blush”

“Oh, come on, it’s not that easy!”

“Maybe for others, but for me is the easiest thing besides...”

“Besides...?”

“Oh, you look so good, sweetie!” Karen said as we got closer, interrupting our conversation.

“Oh, thank you, you do too” I said smiling and she winked at me.

“Someone has to” dad said making everyone laugh.

“Yeah, like you’re the hottest guy alive” Manny said rolling his eyes.

“What can I do? I just am”

“Oh, God, dad”

“What?”

“Just don’t” Flo said shaking her head.

“Our transfer is here!” my mom said smiling and approaching.

And then we all got there, me, the girls and Shawn at the back. The ride was fine and pretty quick, and then we got to where we were going to board the boat, where Shawn helped me due to my heels. Inside we sat at the open part where we could see the Siena river. Shawn quickly sat beside me.

Dinner was pleasant, with light chatter and jokes around the table, and then Flo turned to me.

“Do you want to go upstairs and take some pictures? Me and Liyah are going”

“Sure” I said getting up and going with them.

“So... you and my brother?”

“What’s between us?”

“You and all that mood around you”

“I don’t understand”

“What Liyah is trying to ask is when are you guys going to do something about the sex tension around you?”

“Florence! Are you guys insane?” I whisper-yelled at them.

“Oh, come on, we know you have a big ass crush on him”

“No, I don’t! I used to! Like... ages ago!”

“Aham, sure, come on, we know you” Liyah said smirking.

“Dude, stop”

“Okay, Okay, I’m just saying you should figure your shit out, I don’t know, kiss each other just to make sure”

“This isn’t happening, can we just stick to the pictures, please?”

“Okay, whatever”

So there we were, I was leaning against the little wall, with my upper body slightly inclined front, with my arms leaning on the bannister, the wind making me have goosebumps all over my arms and shiver a little, since I took off my coat for some quick photos. Suddenly I felt warm engulfing my whole body and the scent of his cologne. So I look up, meeting his eyes that were looking straight into the ocean.

“Hi” I murmured, not sure if he heard it because of the wind, but my doubt quickly faded as his eyes fell to my face and a beautiful smile graced his rosy lips.

“Hi, baby” he said kissing my forehead “your skin is so cold right now”

“You’re so warm” I said pressing my back further into his chest.

“Yeah, but still, you should put your coat back on”

“You should, the pictures are amazing, now I’m gonna take a few of Liyah” Flo said winking and pulling Shawn’s sister with her.

“Here” Shawn said holding the coat for me to put on, feeling warm again pretty quickly.

“Thanks” I said turning around to face him.

“You’re so beautiful, Y/N, sometimes I still get star struck by you”

“You’re tipsy” I said smiling to his way too rosy cheeks.

“Just a little, but I believe you’re way tipsier than me”

“I doubt that”

“Well, you haven’t complained about the fact the I’m still holding you, or that I came out of nowhere and hugged you, or that I keep complimenting you, which you generally do because you’re to shy and cute to accept”

“Okay, maybe I’m tipsier than you, specially because I’m agreeing with your non sense”

“God, sometimes I hate you” he said smiling at me.

“I hate you all the damn time”

“Oh, yeah?” He said with a boy-ish grin all over his beautiful face. Okay, I had too much wine.

“Uh, yeah!”

“I’ll sure remember that next time you need a foot rub or just someone to warm you up”

“Uh, I’m so scared of your threat”

“Oh, and I’m gonna lick your whole face until you admit you love me”

“How old are you again?” I said trying to push him away, but his arms were locked around me in a vice grip.

“Three and a half” he said with his face dangerously close to mine. Shit.

“It shows” I said placing my hands on his chest to push him away, which was also useless, so I just closed my eyes instead.

I felt the first hot wet strip across my left cheek and I cried out in disgust, hearing him chuckle.

“Do you love me?”

“I fucking hate you, Mendes”

“Okay” he said leaning closer again and I felt his hot breath on the other side of my face, but this time, closer to my mouth.

“Okay, I don’t hate you!” I said as soon as I felt the tip of his tongue against my skin.

“Yeah?”

“Yep, I love you just a tiny bit” I said opening my eyes and looking up at him.

“I love you too, but just a little” he said smiling.

“Good, we should head inside, it’s kinda cold”

“We should”

                                                        -*-

*Please reblog or like this post if you liked it so I'll know if I'm supposed to keep posting this series thing.

*I'm sorry if there are any spelling mistakes.

*Please do not repost this without giving me the credit, this is a completely original piece and I do not give permission to copy this!

*Hope you guys enjoyed it!

*xoxo*

-🌙

[ineffablecolors]

CSJJ Day 12: Not One of Those Lives

I’ll try to keep this brief (and probably fail). First, I have to thank everyone who has read and enjoyed this verse - it is most certainly my favourite thing I’ve ever written and all the love and support and excitement for it brings me so much joy and inspires me to keep adding to it. And I’ve added quite a bit - this is the most I’ve worked on a OS/part so I hope you like it and thank you - you are magical and truly my muses! 

Second, thank you to @csjanuaryjoy and everyone involved in it (especially all the gorgeous ladies in the Discord chat that has also added so much joy to my January!) - you are all so talented and inspiring and I haven’t read a single fic written for this that hasn’t melted my heart!

Not One of Those Stories was written for last year’s CS January Joy but you do not have to necessarily read any of the previous 4 parts to get this one (but I’ve heard they are not too bad).

“So she never used to rent nice apartments because she knew she’d be vacating them at some point anyway. She never used to buy the extra fluffy blankets and pillows because she knew they took a lot of space when moving. She never used to get the fruit that caught her eye at the market because of some irrational fear that it will spoil before she even got the chance to eat it. She never got a dress she truly wanted to own because of the very rational fear that her next perp might ruin it to hell and the very rational assumption that she won’t be going on any dates she would want to dress up for.

Emma Swan had learnt her lesson. She didn’t get to keep things like that. Hers was not one of those lives.“

Not One of Those Lives; ~ 14,500 words; FF.NET @icecubelotr44 || AO3

About 8 years into her existence Emma Swan learnt how to navigate life. From then on – well, it wasn’t easy but at least it was manageable, at least she didn’t make a fool of herself and she didn’t let others make a fool of her either.

The trick was to accept that, while she might have good things from time to time, she never got to keep them. Because everyone lucked out from time to time, even Emma. It’s not statistically possible to be dealt a bad hand every single time, every day of your life. Emma caught a break on occasion as well, it’s just that her breaks never seemed to last.

A fair newborn baby girl Emma should have been out of the system in no time. And she was. And then she was back. 3 years old and carrying the damning brand of the “returned”.

She had a family – one she hadn’t even known wasn’t her own, and then she didn’t. She was a family member and then she was unsatisfactory (unneeded) merchandise. And the thing about returned merchandise is that it’s very hard to resell. You try telling people that the previous “owners” just decided to produce their own merchandise. Everybody wonders what the problem was, what was wrong with her. No one wants someone else’s sloppy seconds.

She remembers that phrase like it was thrown at her yesterday and not 27 years ago. She still perfectly recalls the curled lip of the little girl, the inflection on the words. Sloppy seconds. That was her.

It took her another year to learn that all important lesson but yes, at the ripe age of 8, Emma Swan thought she’d found the answer to her life. She watched the little blonde cherubs that had never been brought back with the receipt get into the white SUVs of their new families and knew hers was simply not one of those lives.

She watched the girls in her school showing off their pencil cases and backpacks to each other – the brands that were in, with the most popular fictional characters on them. (She used the box from some colouring pens as a pencil case.) She watched the kids who sat together at recess – their lunchboxes colourful and full to the brim.

Later she watched men running around cars to open doors for their wives or girlfriends and tried to roll her eyes and scoff. (Neal ran around the Bug alright, whenever he was in a rush to get inside so they wouldn’t get caught by another guard in another convenience store.) She watched couples inside restaurants, sharing intimate smiles over candlelight.

Those pretty, colourful and well-lit lives were not hers to have.

Frankly, the system can fuck you up in a myriad of ways. Emma went through some shit but she managed to avoid the worst of it. A few hang-ups here and there are nothing to cry about, if you ask her.

So she never used to rent nice apartments because she knew she’d be vacating them at some point anyway. She never used to buy the extra fluffy blankets and pillows because she knew she’d only have to constantly drag them around. She never used to get the fruit that caught her eye at the market because of some irrational fear that it will spoil before she even got the chance to eat it. She never got a dress she truly wanted to own because of the very rational fear that her next perp might ruin it to hell and the very rational assumption that she won’t be going on any dates she would want to dress up for.

Emma Swan had learnt her lesson. She didn’t get to keep things like that. Hers was not one of those lives.

Emma Swan is carrying a shopping bag containing a dress that she won’t fit into for at least another five months. It’s a soft pink, elegant, billowing skirt and lovely lacework at the hem. It’s a dress made for an evening out and she does not regret buying it.

What she does regret is pulling this stubborn shit on Killian and insisting that she will finish off the month and then stop going into work.

It’s December, it’s freezing, she is 7 months pregnant and she had fuck all to do at the office all day. Now her feet are cold and her back hurts and she just wants to get home and not think about life lessons that she has been gradually unlearning.

She might have bought the dress to make a point. To fate or the universe or the snotty shopping assistant that was looking at her like she’ll never fit into a dress like that again. It might have cost as much as half of all her other dresses combined. She doesn’t have that many. It’s not that bad. She was making a point.

She sighs in relief at the sight of their apartment building. Then once inside she groans at the sight of the staircase.

“Sure, let’s get the place without an elevator. Cardio is good for you. It will help us stay in shape. Ugh. Idiots.”

The fact that she actually considers calling Killian and making him come down to carry her up the stairs the way he has threatened to do a couple of times already is testament to exactly how absolutely exhausted she is. It takes her twice as long as it should to reach their door.

When she walks in, she is surprised she couldn’t feel the heat radiating off said door.

“God, Killian. What’s going on here?”

He comes out of the kitchen, wiping his hand on his sweatpants before he cups her cheek and brings her into a soft kiss.

And here we have the reason Emma Swan has gone back on the life philosophy she’d held since she was 8 years old.

Killian Jones is the very best thing that’s happened to her and she decided some time ago that she is most definitely keeping him.

Emma hums and pulls back, only to be greeted with a frown instead of the smile she was expecting.

She has a love/hate relationship with the fact that Killian never fails to greet her with a kiss when either of them comes home. Alright, mostly just a love relationship but it leaves her all melty and totally unprepared for when it turns out that he is actually in a mood.

“You’re chilled. Please tell me you took a cab home?”

She tries not to cringe and smiles innocently instead.

“I took the subway?”

“Emma.”

It’s not a whine, Killian doesn’t really do whining. It’s worse – it’s deep and gruff and a little frustrated and probably has the exact opposite effect on her to the one he was aiming for.

“I am not taking the Bug out of hibernation or hailing a cab for a few blocks,” she slides into his personal space as much as her baby bump allows. “Look on the positive side, my love – you get to warm me up now.”

Killian gives her a look that clearly says that he is neither amused, not deterred.

“Oh, I will.”

He takes off her hat and murmurs his displeasure when she tries to take her coat off herself. Her scarf goes and then the coat. He glowers at her gloveless hands and she tries on another one of those innocent smiles. Nothing. Damn.

“I really gotta start preparing for the role of the fun parent,” she mutters half to herself.

Killian bends down without a comment and tugs lightly on one of her boots, only lifting her foot when her hand has settled securely on his back, leaning most of her weight on him. She furrows her brow and scrunches up her nose, wondering if her feet smell after a day in thermo socks and winter boots. They should really get one of those small shoe cupboards for the hallway – just so she can sit on them and take her own damn shoes off. She switches hands when he switches feet and can’t help but wiggle her toes happily in the soft slippers.

She is promptly taken to the couch and covered with a throw blanket.

“Really now?”

His look advises against her trying to get up. It’s only as Killian heads to the kitchen and Emma realizes how hot she is that she remembers her initial surprise.

“Why does it feel like our flat is a walk-in oven?”

“Because you were walking outside in the frigid cold for five blocks.”

“This is not human temperature,” she yells in the general direction of the kitchen even though she knows it really annoys him when she insists on having a conversation from separate rooms – she is really not helping her case.

“I assure you, Swan” his head pops around the corner and really, she’ll argue that the kitchen and living room are basically one big room anyway. “It is the outside temperature that is not advisable for humans.”

“And boiling alive is all the rage this season?”

He is gone. Emma sighs and finally fully sinks into the couch. OK, so this is not terrible for her aching back and tired feet but he really doesn’t need to know how much she hated making the trip from the subway. Or going to work in general.

She feels the movement inside her seconds before the light kicks start. Her hands settle over the spot where their baby is making her presence known.

“Is someone happy to be home?”

She twists her head around to find Killian leaning over the back the couch, his hand holding out a mug of tea. She keeps one hand on her daughter and wraps the other around the warm porcelain.

“She missed you.”

“Oh?” he struggles to go on with his teasing despite the smile that’s deepening the lines around his mouth. “Is she the only one?”

And Emma is about to pick up his tone and the little glint in his eye and tease right back, and then just like that she feels her own eyes fill with tears instead.

“No. And I’m not going into work anymore. I’m not going out at all.”

“Emma?”

He is beside her in a second, taking her mug again and setting it on the coffee table with a hasty thud before he pulls her into him. She is all too willing to bury her still cold nose in the scorching heat of his neck, her hands wrapping all the way around him.

“Shhh. Swan, what’s wrong? I’m sorry I was a pain—“

She shakes her head against him, squeezing him tighter.

“No, no, I— I was bored and restless and uncomfortable all day. And I just sat behind my stupid desk and that chair is absolute hell and my feet have been cold all day and then on the way home and—“

She sniffs a little, trying to hold back the tears from actually falling. Killian has never once used the phrase “pregnancy hormones” but Emma uses it plenty.

“And that means she was cold,” she whispers against his warm skin and can’t help thinking that their daughter would never be cold, if she was with Killian all the time.

“Oh, Emma. You know that’s not true.”

“Yes, it is.”

He says okay and continues to rub her back with his stump and her belly with his hand until both girls calm down and only then he goes back to contradict her.

“Darling, it is biologically impossible for her to have been cold. It is also impossible because you’ll never let that happen.”

“But I did.”

“Swan—“

“Why am I still going to work?”

That shuts him up. They both know Killian suggested that she start her maternity leave a month ago. They both know the #1 reason he sold his cabin in Storybrooke in a hurry – even outranking his definite lack of desire to ever go back – was that she will be able to take as much time off work as she wants when the baby comes.

“Why am I out in freaking December?”

He frowns at that.

“Swan, I know you, you’ll go stir crazy, if you—“

“What does it matter? So I go a little crazy? This is already risky ‘cause I’m over 30—“

“The doctor said—“

“I’m keeping her! We are—“

“What are you on about? When was this even a question?”

There is a tinge of panic mixed in with his confusion now. Almost unnoticeable, unless you are Emma, unless being attuned to Killian’s emotions is one of your life goals.

“No, never, I— not like that, I just— Oh, God. Killian, I…”

She drops her forehead on his shoulder and breathes deeply, grateful that his arms are still around her, grateful that he hasn’t pulled back in his confusion.

“I was just…,” she sighs heavily and wraps her arms around his left bicep, rolling her head back and forth, trying to order her thoughts. “My mind’s been so… all day. And I guess I’ve been thinking how nothing good ever lasts for me and... I freaked out. Sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize, love. I think I’m still ahead in the freak outs tally.”

She snorts and it’s choked and watery and she reaches up to wipe his shoulder.

“Also,” she feels the rough pad of Killian’s finger under her chin, angling her head to the side and up until she meets his gaze. “I thought I classified as a good thing that’s currently lasting.”

He sounds almost shy about it and she will laugh, if she wasn’t worried that laughing might lead to crying. So she sighs instead and smiles in a way that she thinks most people will probably define as smitten.

“Yeah, we’re just hoping you’re not the exception that proves the rule or something.”

“Emma—”

“I know, I know,” she straightens a little and Killian smooths out her hair and tucks it behind her ears.

“Everything is going to be alright. We’re going to keep you both warm and happy over the winter and in a couple of months you’ll have another exception to your frankly outrageous rule.”

Her hands settle on his cheeks, the stubble prickling her pink and oversensitive fingers and she drops her forehead to his and smiles.

“I’ll call my boss tomorrow.”

“You don’t have to rush—”

“No, really, I’m not… even if I had actual work to do, there’s no way I’ll be able to concentrate. All I can think about is if we need more baby bottles.”

“We have four packs of different baby bottles.”

“I know, I’m surprised I didn’t buy another one today.”

“You didn’t?”

She pinches his left ear.

“No. I bought a dress I might never fit into again.”

Killian’s eyes darken a little and he leans further into her, his hand sliding down her spine and boldly helping itself to some of her ass.

“Tell me more.”

“About the dress I won’t fit into?”

“It matters not, darling. If you don’t fit into it, you’ll just be naked that much sooner.”

Her burst of laughter is probably not the reaction he was going for but it seems to satisfy him nonetheless.

///

She finishes her tea and manages to talk Killian into dinner on the couch, using how warm and comfy she is as her unbeatable arguments. Now her feet are tucked under his thigh and she is appreciating the way he rubs her calves and only half paying attention to what Kevin McAlister is doing on her laptop.

“So, Christmas?”

Killian blinks at her and she pushes up the black frames that have almost slid off his nose.

“You want to do something different?”

“Well, I’m afraid we’re gonna have to break the wine and tragic backstories tradition.”

“Thank the gods, I was running out of ruined relationships to tell you about.”

“Ha ha.”

Actually Emma has always been quite proud of how non-Grinchy she and Killian are. Sure, they’re not overly zealous about it and haven’t really bothered with a tree or many decorations the last couple of years but for the most part they seem to have avoided letting their aloneness and their loneliness spoil the family holiday for them completely.

“I actually had an idea of sorts,” Killian lets go of her leg and tugs on his beard.

It’s getting long again. She kinda likes it – all the black and white and ginger mesh together beautifully.

Emma bends her knees further and shuffles closer, propping her elbows on her knees and her chin on her palms. She looks up at her boyfriend and blinks expectantly. He huffs in undisguised amusement and cards his fingers through her hair.

“I was thinking that we’re rather lowkey about the whole holiday.”

“We specifically put on Home Alone for the second night in a row and last week you tried to make me a peppermint hot chocolate.”

“I did make you a peppermint hot chocolate, the fact that you dubbed it “totally gross” is another matter altogether.”

“Totally the same matter,” she fires back even as she leans her head to the side so his hand can slip lower and massage her neck. “I eat like a billion times better thanks to you but your taste in hot drinks is shit, my love.”

“That is not at all what you said the first time I made you a proper Irish coffee.”

Killian might not whine but Emma most certainly does. It’s plaintive and just a little angry.

“Why would you say that right now? Coffee and alcohol are two of the things I miss the most.”

He leans over and replaces his fingers with his lips, leaving a damp trail along the curve of her neck.

“My apologies, Swan, but there are other Irish things you can have any time you wish.”

She hums in faux contemplation.

Emma would be a shameless liar if she said she didn’t freak out a bit around the fifth month of her pregnancy when she realized exactly how limited their sex life was about to get and exactly how unsexy some parts of her were already getting. If Killian’s indignation and reassurances took her 70-75% of the way to being secure in her sex appeal again, his sex drive (and her own for that matter) over the last couple of months have definitely boosted her up to around 90%.

So she untucks her feet (still in their Christmas-y socks – what is he even on about – they have holiday spirit to spare) from under Killian and carefully swings one leg over him, adjusting herself so she doesn’t completely crush him but she can press her full breasts (that side effect she isn’t complaining about) against his chest.

“Tell me the thing first and then I’ll take a closer look at those things.”

“So demanding.”

“Killian.”

“Alright, alright. Hmm, just the short version or…”

His fingers come up to play with the zipper of her hoodie and she can feel his left forearm tapping a nervous rhythm against his own thigh so she reaches out and grabs both, bring their hands between them. Killian tugs her knuckles to his lips and she mirrors the action with his left arm. His breath hitches a little. Emma has his stump all mapped out and she can navigate with almost perfect accuracy the parts that have no feeling in them and the little spots that are almost hypersensitive.

“Long version. You know I always want the long version.”

He snaps his slackened jaw shut and his eyebrow shoots up and yeah, alright, she walked right into that one.

The thing is, she is still caught by surprise sometimes. Turns out Killian Jones likes few things better than a good innuendo. Emma thinks it started only after they moved out of Storybrooke though she can’t remember the precise moment. What she does remember is sliding to the floor from too much laughter, Killian leaning on the kitchen counter and looking down at her with sparkling eyes and her asking where on earth he came up with that stuff. She remembers the way the skin under his scruff reddened slightly, the way he cleared his throat and focused on his drumming fingers – caught somewhere between embarrassment and amusement – as he joked that it’s an old skill she has made him rediscover. She remembers that last part – coupled with his looking at her from under his lashes and biting his lip – working for him better than most of the ridiculous innuendoes.

By now she is perfectly capable of recognizing the signs – the way his brows twitch, the mischievous little sparkle brightening his blue eyes, the way his tongue pokes out and swipes over his chapped lips. Basically the way he looks right about now.

“Focus, my love,” she chastises. “Storytime first, playtime after.”

“How do you know there’s a story to it?”

“You’re nervous about it.”

He huffs and the eyebrows settle, his eyes flickering all over the room for a moment.

“It’s not… it’s not nervous per se.”

She lifts a skeptical eyebrow.

“I just want you to tell me honestly, if it sounds silly. I don’t want you to automatically agree because there is a sentimental aspect to it.”

She narrows her eyes.

“Killian?”

“Mm?”

“Remember the first snow last year?”

“Errr… I suppose?”

“Remember telling me about how you and Liam used to bury each other under the snow – the way normal people bury each other under sand on the beach – to see which one of you will last longer?”

He rolls his eyes and sighs.

“Do you?”

“Yes, Swan, I remember. You made that same “normal people” point back then.”

“And did I agree to do that with you?”

“You most certainly did not.”

“Proceed.”

He gives her a look and she just grins smugly, fully aware that he is more than satisfied with the point she has made, even if he is all huffy about the way she made it.

“Alright. Well… I’m a little fuzzy on the details. It might have been Liam she did it with and I just helped. Or it might have even been both of us. But… I’m pretty confident it was me and my mum. I think we only did it for a couple of years before she took ill and all.”

She squeezes his hand and nods. It seems they simply can’t do Christmas time without some backstorytelling. Wine or no wine.

“The house wasn’t large by any stretch of the imagination but there were still plenty of brilliant hiding places. And I remember searching for hours sometimes. I think she gave me hints sometimes. Like a game of hot and cold?”

“What were you looking for?”

“Christmas gifts.”

“Oh.”

“Aye. I… I think she hid a bunch of them – little things really, just… a lolly, a pair of socks – things like that. Yes, it might’ve been both Liam and I looking… There was always something hidden around the house, every day of the week leading up to Christmas. Or maybe just for a few days— I don’t—“

He shakes his head and frowns at his inability to recall the obviously happy memory completely. Emma feels her heart clench a little – she knows the feeling. Some of her happy memories are nothing more than vague feelings of warmth, yet she can still recite word for word the cruel words thrown at her 7-year-old self. It’s not fair.

“No matter, it’s just that… I was putting a book away the other day and I thought “this would make a good hiding place for a present”. Yet it was obviously too small to hide Christmas gifts. And then I remembered that game. The search, the excitement.”

“It sounds like a super sweet thing to do.”

“Aye. And I was thinking we could do it for…” his hand lets go of hers to settle over her belly.

Emma looks down and then her eyes shoot back up. Her eagerness must be plain to see because Killian grins happily back at her.

“Yeah?”

“Yes! Totally! We can start with really easy places when she is little and then make it harder and harder until she is too old to bother with us.”

Killian laughs her favourite laugh – deep and joyful and absolutely unrestrained.

“That’s the idea, yes.”

“It’s brilliant.”

“Well, I’m glad you think so, love. Because I was also thinking we could test it out on you.”

“On me?”

Killian nods simply.

“There are only about five days till Christmas but if you’re amenable, I might be prepared with your first couple of gifts.”

“Really?”

“Mm, I thought what’s the harm – if you didn’t want to play, I’ll just give them to you on Christmas. And they’re nothing special, just—”

“But I’m not prepared.”

“Prepared?”

“With tiny presents for you.”

Killian laughs again and smiles at her.

“Darling, I’m a bit too old to play hot and cold. Or to receive multiple gifts on Christmas.”

“Well, that’s bullshit.”

“Swear jar.”

“Ugh, whatever. She can’t even hear me yet.”

“Oh but she can hear when I tell her bedtime stories?”

“Yeah ‘cause your voice is deeper and it’s… like… different wavelengths.”

Killian lifts an unimpressed eyebrow and just nods in the general direction of their brand new swear jar.

“Fine. Whatever. But if I’m scavengerhunting for gifts then so are you and that’s that.”

“And if we pick the same places? We only have so many rooms.”

“So we just laugh at how cute we are and pick different places.”

Killian sighs in a way that always signals that he knows he has lost the argument but is not ready to admit it just yet.

“You’ll have to worry about finding me things and—“

“No, I won’t, I love buying you presents.”

Another sigh.

“Swan.”

“What?”

“I wanted to do this for you.”

“Yeah, I can see that, my love. And it’s so stinking cute I’m pretty sure I haven’t processed it yet.”

He chuckles and slides his hand down to her lower back, pressing gently to bring her closer for a kiss. She keeps just out of reach.

“I just feel like it’s gonna be even more fun, if we both get to play the kid.”

“Alright then. But I warn you I have already found a couple of marvelous hiding places. If you turn this into some sort of competition, all you’re going to do is embarrass yourself.”

She gasps in indignation and pulls away to glare into his laughing eyes.

“Oh, yeah? See if the first thing I hide aren’t your glasses. Then we’ll see who’ll be embarrassed, old man.”

“Experienced, Swan. Us old people prefer the term “experienced”.”

“Do you now? And do you have anything to back up that “term” with?” she punctuates her questions with the slow grind of her hips against his and smirks triumphantly at Killian’s gulp.

“Indeed.”

His grip on her tightens, wrapping her legs more securely around his waist and he whispers a raspy “hold on” in her ear before he stands up with a groan.

“Killian!”

Her hands clamp around him and her thighs squeeze him in a vice grip even though she knows he just needs to release them and she’ll safely reach the ground.

“Now. About those Irish delicacies we were discussing,” he huffs into her shoulder and turns in the direction of their bedroom.

“Put me down. You’ll fuck up your back again.”

“Swear jar.”

“Killiaaan.”

“Swan, you’re toying with my fragile male ego.”

“You don’t have a fragile male ego. You are 5.9 and have a fully grown beard and a very nice cock.”

His laughter shakes them both.

“No abs though. Also – swear jar.”

“Cock is not a swear word. Abs are overrated.”

Her arms tighten automatically around his neck as Killian starts slowly lowering her down onto their bed.

“So says you.”

She rolls her eyes and pulls him to stand between her thighs, her hands eagerly slipping under the hem of his t-shirt.

“And here I thought you cared about what I say.”

Killian tosses his glasses on his nightstand and drops to his knees so she can easily tug his t-shirt over his head.

“Always,” he murmurs in the space between her breasts. “Especially when you tell me how you want to have me?”

“Mmm, such a good question. Is it a multiple choice? ‘Cause I happen to have multiple answers.”

///

“Warmer… warmer… and now we’re getting cold again.”

“Ugh, I’ve checked every corner of this room! Where the fuck did you hide— I swear to God, Killian, if you say the words “swear” and “jar”, I will throw something at you.”

“You have to put a dollar in the glass container for expletives and obscenities.”

“Jesus, you’re infuriating.”

“Mildly annoying at worst.”

“No, you’re infuriating. Being a smartass only makes you more infuriating.”

“Ah, ah, you’re heating up again, Swan.”

“I’ll heat up your ass!”

“Is that a promise?”

“God.”

///

“Emma, love…”

“Shut up.”

“I do not wish to judge but—“

“Seriously, shut up.”

“The bathroom cabinet? I must say, I’m insulted more than anything else.”

“It was behind my pads!”

“Alright?”

“It said it was the best place to hide something from your boyfriend!”

“What did?”

“The internet!”

“Love… did you… google hiding places?”

“Remember when I told you to shut up?”

“Bloody hell, you’re adorable.”

“Jones—“

“Oh, love, come here.”

“Go away.”

“I love you.”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I’ve never played hide and seek, ok? Or this… hot and cold thing.”

“Well, that’s why we’re playing now. So you can have some practice, or our little lass will run circles around you.”

“She will anyway.”

“Probably… Did you really google “where to hide things from my boyfriend”?”

“… maybe.”

“Bloody hell, that sounds wrong.”

“Yeah… I don’t think any of those articles and forum entries were made for the purpose of hiding presents from your significant other.”

“They also give rubbish advice.”

“I’ll have you know, the pads and tampons thing was everywhere.”

“Darling, I buy you those most of the time.”

“Yeah, but… yeah, ok. Shit advice. For shitty boyfriends… and shitty girlfriends when you think about it.”

“Just go with your gut from here on, yeah? I’m confident it will yield much better results. No need to cheat, Swan.”

“Ah! I did not cheat!”

“Of course not. I jest. This was most certainly not a very unsuccessful attempt at cheating. ”

“Shut up.”

///

Emma finishes her chapter and leafs through the pages of the next. 15. Then she drops the book on her lap and looks up into the amused eyes of her boyfriend.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Nothing her ass. Now the corners of his mouth are twitching as well.

“You don’t have nothing face.”

“No? What kind of face do I have?”

“A very nice one.”

He huffs a little laugh but his ears immediately turn a shade pinker.

“Ah, excuse the inaccuracy. What kind of an expression do I have?”

She looks around. No one in the café is looking at them and Emma is not even sure why she feels self-conscious saying it but—

“The one you get when you think I’m doing something cute.”

Now Killian flushes with pleasure, the lines around his eyes crinkling along with his smile.

“You are doing something cure. Endearing, if I may use a more appropriate term.”

“You may also tell me what it is.”

She lifts her knee a bit so the book doesn’t slide off her lap and reaches for her cocoa. Killian purses his lips and narrows his eyes, seemingly in deep thought. Emma rolls her eyes over the rim of her mug and gives him a look.

“Oh, come on.”

He sighs but smiles nonetheless and sets his newspaper on the table between them. It’s a nice table. It’s a nice place.

Emma’s life was not one of those lives. Nice cafés, quality hot cocoa, a man who finds her “endearing”. And now—

She wasn’t a “regular” before Storybrooke. That’s to say she never really cared to have her name and order memorized by a barista whose name she was also aware of. She didn’t visit the same burger joints all the time, she didn’t order from the same pizza places and she most certainly didn’t go to the same coffee shops and sit around, making herself at home.

Storybrooke of course didn’t give her much of a choice. You either ate at Granny’s or you cooked for yourself. But once they moved to Boston she naturally fell back on her nomadic ways.

Killian was a whole different story. If he’d ever been a regular at Granny’s, that was over and done with long before she arrived. So Emma really didn’t expect him to develop a partiality for some random diner or coffee shop when they moved.

Then again, The Caffeinated Bookworm is hardly any random café. It is, Emma has not too begrudgingly come to admit, one of the most charming places she has ever been in, made even more so by its multitude of bookshelves you can borrow from, its extremely friendly and enthusiastic owner named after the most bookish princess of them all and its small but extremely well-mastered collection of beverages.

Emma cringes at the thought of ever setting foot in a Starbucks or a Costa again. Though she definitely misses the muffins but Belle keeps saying she can’t bother with all the permits she’ll need.

It didn’t take nearly as much convincing to get Emma to come to The Bookworm again and again and again as she thought it would. Mostly because it’s now Killian’s favourite place to spend a Saturday, if they are not at home, and maybe because she wanted to see this Belle with all the good book recommendations and the fantastic coffee.

She loves Belle now, don’t get her wrong. She just—

“You do this thing.”

Emma blinks a couple of times and focuses on Killian who is looking at her with his head tilted to the side and oh – his eyes are really soft now.

“What thing?”

“I can always tell when you’ve finished your chapter because you always leaf through to see how long the next one is.”

He says it likes it’s this miraculous thing she does and not just a silly quirk.

“Well, I like to be prepared.”

Killian laughs and reaches across the table to take her hand, bringing it to his lips.

She will do the silliest things 24/7, if they make him smile like that.

“This is a public place, you know?”

They both look up to see Elsa standing beside their table, a perfectly formed eyebrow cocked up in barely suppressed amusement.

“Yes, and we are so indecent.”

Emma rolls her eyes as Killian hides his smile into another kiss to her knuckles before he gets up.

“The way you’re looking at each other is. Don’t think I don’t know how this happens.”

Elsa waves at her baby bump and Emma tries to laugh off her blush.

“I should hope so. Otherwise sex ed in Norway must be truly appalling,” she looks at Killian shrugging into his coat and gathering his phone and newspaper and frowns. “You’re not staying?”

“Ah, afraid not. There is a… project that needs some finishing touches. I thought I’ll make use of the time while Elsa keeps you company.”

She narrows her eyes slightly, knowing he is not working on any boats in the dead of winter, but decides to let it go. He gives her a grateful smile and a kiss that might go on a couple of seconds longer than Elsa will deem “decent”.

“I can’t believe you still buy an honest-to-god newspaper,” Elsa grins at Killian teasingly and kisses him on the cheek.

“They still sell them.”

Emma thinks forty years ago he might have stuck his tongue out at the other blonde but Killian just grins at Elsa’s eyeroll and winks at her before he leaves.

Elsa goes to get herself a cup of coffee and when she comes back Emma can see the suspicion in her eyes. To be fair, Emma’s grin is a bit evil.

“You know you’re one of my closest friends,” she starts. “But for future reference, you really shouldn’t kiss the man of a pregnant woman right in front of her.”

Elsa laughs one of her rare laugh – loud and unexpected, shaking her shoulders slightly, her braid reaching her seat as she tips her head back.

“Alright, tell me about that lab girl.”

Emma’s expression sours.

“Ugh, don’t get me started.”

“It was obviously what you were angling at, seeing as I’m pretty sure you’re not jealous of your very devoted husband and your very asexual best friend.”

“Not my husband yet.”

It’s been more than a month since they talked about it and she still has two wedding rings stashed in her jewelry box but no ring on her finger.

Not that a month is a lot. Or that she needs a ring. She doesn’t. She doesn’t need anything but to be 100% that Killian wants it as much as she does, that it’s one of those things that she can give him – that they can give each other.

Elsa just hums and takes a sip of her drink, her back perfectly straight again and her elegant, pale fingers wrapped securely around the little cup. She is waiting. Emma sighs.

Emma’s life was not one of those lives either. Best friends she could talk to about boys. Boys she’d want to talk about. And now it is.

“So we were getting my regular blood tests done, right? And Killian’s there, of course. And there’s this lab assistant or whatever, I don’t know, she wasn’t even the one taking my blood so I have no idea why she was hovering around. I mean – I do. She kept going on about how wonderful he is, how nice it is when the father is so involved, how few men are, blah, blah.”

Elsa’s light cough might have been a laugh. Emma just glares.

“I know, ok? I just… ugh, she was so… ugh.”

“What did Killian say?”

Emma rolls her eyes and leans back in her chair.

“He didn’t see it until I said something. Then he found it hilarious, said she could be his daughter.”

Elsa lifts an eyebrow.

“Look, you do not flirt with a pregnant woman’s man. Do you know what is going on inside our heads? And inside like… everything?”

“Yeah, Anna was the same.”

“Your sister?”

“The one and only. She got pregnant just a few months after they got married. Kristoff was working on this reindeer farm back then. She went absolutely mental over how much time he was spending with the owner.”

“Well, can you blame her? Work environments can be very—“

“Emma, she was a lovely woman in her late 50’s with a husband and three children.”

“Oh. Well…”

Elsa laughs her delicate, barely audible laugh this time but her eyes are warm and sparkling.

“It’s just… the two of you have two of the most honest and faithful men I’ve ever met and—“

“I know, I know,” Emma waves her hands around before she drops them on her belly, laughing a little as well. “It’s… It’s not a real thing we’re really worried about just…”

“Flirty nurses are a bit much.”

“Way too much… She definitely wasn’t a proper nurse.”

///

“Names.”

“Hmmm?”

“Names, my love. How have we still not talked about names?”

“Because we’ve been too preoccupied with making sure everything was alright with the babe and procuring any amenity she could possibly need?”

“Mm, when you put it like that… it doesn’t make us the horrible parents I was afraid we might already be.”

“Never. It is simply impossible that you will be anything but wonderful. So much so that you will hardly allow any of my shortcomings to turn truly horrible.”

“I’m not even going to argue with this. I’ll just wait and let her come out and be all smug when you’re amazing at everything.”

“Let me get this straight – you will be smug over me being amazing at everything.”

“Of course. I totally get to be smug about picking you to procreate with.”

Killian chokes.

She giggles, kisses the space behind his ear and moves back to her chopping board.

“I love you.”

“Emma.”

“What?”

“Stop. I cannot bare for my love for you to grow anymore because you use the word “procreate” in casual conversation.”

“It’s a word. Also, this is not just any conversation, we were discussing baby names.”

“I don’t think we ever got that far.”

“And we should. Names, Killian. Girl names.”

“Have you ever thought about it?”

“Procreating with you? Repeatedly.”

“Swan.”

He sounds like she’s physically torturing him. It might have something to do with the fact that his only available hand is currently engaged in stirring some sauce that apparently needs to be stirred constantly. If the way his jaw is ticking is any indication, he wants it to be engaged in other ways. She laughs and goes back to chopping walnuts into really tiny walnuts.

It’s her assigned task. She doesn’t know why. Killian is not very good at explaining recipes.

“Sorry, sorry. Baby names? Not seriously. I mean… yeah, okay, I… I had some moments with Neal. Not when I thought I might be— Before that. Before it all went to shit.”

God, Neal was an asshole. She can’t believe she considered having babies with him. It’s probably not fair comparing— No, you know what, screw that, it’s totally fair. Neal was nearing 30 when they met.

Man, someone would think she has a thing for older men which she honestly wouldn’t mind, she doesn’t see anything wrong with it when both parties are adults. Except she doesn’t like how it seems to cheapen what she has with Killian. She didn’t like Neal for his presumed maturity or experience. She loved him with her own inexperience and innocence and insecurity. Mostly she loved him with her need to be loved.

And she would be lying, if she said she doesn’t like Killian’s moments of staggering sensibility and measured maturity, his old-fashioned manners and considerable experience. But that’s like, just somewhere down the very long list. She loves Killian with everything she is, with her certainty and her confidence and even her crankiness. Mostly she loves him with her need to love and her faith in being loved.

“Emma?”

Killian is in front of her, his hand cupping her face. His thumb runs slowly across the rounded edge of her jaw. His fingers are rough but his touches are always so soft.

“Everything alright, darling?”

“What happened to your needy sauce?”

Even his chuckle is soft.

“It will survive. My attentions are yours and yours alone until a certain little lass comes around.”

“Hmm.”

“Where did you go?”

“Nowhere. Just thinking how much my taste in men has improved.”

“I selfishly hope it will not continue to improve.”

“Nope. I have officially peaked.”

He hums, kisses her cheek and takes a few steps back to check on his demanding sauce.

“Good. So would it be rather strange, if you told me the baby names you considered back then?”

“No. I mean, I don’t think so? I didn’t like, actually consider them for a baby I actually wanted to have. It just… made me think about it for the first time. But if you mind—“

“I don’t mind. What did you like?”

“I liked Angela for a girl. Or Alexandra. I dunno what’s with the A’s.”

She chuckles and it sounds nervous even to her own ears.

“I like Alexandra,” he says lightly, softly. “I like that you can shorten it to Alex.”

“Yeah, but…”

“No?”

“No. I mean… I still like the names but… there’s nothing special about them. They’re just names I like the sound of.”

Killian hums in understanding. As if her ramblings make perfect sense. She supposes they do to him at this point, he is very good at listening to her ramble and has been doing so for over two years now.

He is also really good at letting her get to her point or letting her talk herself to whatever decision she needs to make. She has developed the questionable habit of calling him, saying what she needs to figure out and then just talking until she has come to a conclusion or a decision, Killian mostly just humming and guiding her along with the right questions. Maybe she feels like she can figure anything out when he is there to watch her do it. That makes it sound less silly.

“So would you like to look up names with certain meanings?”

“Maybe. Although I don’t really feel like naming our daughter Lucasta.”

“Are we big enough fans of Lovelace for that?”

He says it so seriously, brows furrowing in contemplation. She can’t help but laugh. She swears she has laughed more since she met Killian Jones than in all the years that came before. It makes perfect sense to her.

“I don’t know, my love, you’re the resident bookworm. But I don’t really like Lucasta. I just looked up names meaning “light”.”

“Light. That’s quite lovely, Swan.”

She shrugs as she feels her cheeks heat up a little. She just googled it, it’s not like she knows stuff like that. Killian probably knows stuff like that but—

“But I thought maybe…”

“Maybe?”

“Well, this is really all up to you, since I can’t be of any help whatsoever in that department—“

“I’m sure that’s not true.”

“No, I really can’t, I’m not being modest or some bullshit like that.”

Killian has finally taken his damn sauce off the stove. He comes up behind her and his teeth sink lightly into her shoulder, so tender she almost doesn’t realize the bite is meant to be an admonishment.

“What happened to that swear jar?”

“I said “bloody” should count as a swear.”

“Ah, right.”

She tilts her head back and sticks her tongue out at him.

“Are you offering that to me, love?”

She sticks it out further and keeps it that way until he leans in and draws it into his own mouth. She licks lightly at the roof of his mouth, tickling him on purpose until he bites at her lip. She still doesn’t feel admonished though her neck is staring to ache a bit.

Killian pulls back first, leaving a series of kisses on her forehead – so innocent she would laugh, if she wasn’t worried that will make him stop.

“So what is this thing only I can do?”

“Oh.”

She draws her own lip under her teeth even as his mouth continues to press lightly now to the top of her head.

It’s— She didn’t realize how much she wanted it until it’s time to ask him. Shit, she really hopes he says yes. And she really hopes she can temper down her disappointment, if he says no.

“Do you have any… family names you might like us to use?”

Killian stops kissing her. That’s never a good thing in Emma’s books no matter the situation. He pulls back and turns her around carefully so he can see her face fully and she can see the perplexed way he is blinking at her. He might be floored, he might be upset. She really hopes for the former.

Her hand slides up his neck, her pointer finger fitting perfectly behind his right ear and stroking the lobe gently.

“Like… a grandmother… or your mom’s maybe?”

“You—“ Killian clears his throat, it sounds very businesslike to her but then his voice comes out a little breathless the way she has only heard it a few times. “You want to name her after my mother?”

“Only if you do.”

“Have I ever told you her name?”

Emma shakes her head. He has told her a lot of stories about Liam but very few with his mother or father present. Their little Christmas game is one of the few. She supposes those are a bit more painful. She doesn’t think he has ever mentioned their names.

Part of her wonders if he doesn’t want to tell her too many family stories that she can’t meet with any of her own. She should tell him she wants to hear more.

“Umm,” his tongue flits restlessly over his lips, a sure sign that he is a little nervous and she settles her other hand over his heart. “My grandmother’s name – my mother’s mother was Catriona. I think my father’s was Nora but I never met her and I can only remember him mentioning her a handful of times.”

She nods encouragingly and tries not to look too eager.

“My… my mother’s name was Alice.”

Alice.

He swallows and looks at her from under his lashes.

“Do you like it?”

His voice is so soft – a little uncertain, more than a little hopeful.

God, Emma wishes she could say that she wouldn’t have saddled her kid with some difficult, old-fashioned name but she is looking into the blue, blue eyes of the love of her life and she is just damn grateful her daughter lucked out with such a beautiful name.

“I love it.”

If she comes off a bit breathless and emotional – well, this is a pretty damn big moment. They just picked their kid’s name. She hopes.

“Truly?”

She really hopes the way Killian’s eyes are shining is a good sign. She nods.

“Can we? Please?”

“Bloody hell.”

His lips crash onto hers almost violently, almost like he couldn’t quite wait to determine the strength with which to drop his mouth on hers. She doesn’t mind. She doesn’t mind one bit. His beard really needs trimming though.

“Of course. Emma— Gods, of course, I— You truly wish to?”

“I may or may not be incapable of imagining giving her another name now.”

Killian groans in what is definitely approval and delight and a whole lot of other emotions. And then he kisses her again.

///

“Swan.”

She beams at him, her hands clasped behind her back and an unapologetically self-satisfied smile on her lips.

“This is not a little present, love.”

“Actually it’s pretty tiny. It fits in your palm.”

“You know it is not the size that matters.”

“Huh. I never thought you would need to use that phrase.”

“Swan.”

He doesn’t give so she sighs and sways closer, her eyes earnest and bright.

“You eye it every time we go to The Bookworm.”

“I eye yachts at the marina as well.”

“Yeah, well, those weren’t going to fit in my shoe box. I had to compromise.”

Honestly, if she could, she would’ve gotten him every yacht in the damn marina. If she could, she would get Killian Jones every single thing he could ever wish for. Unfortunately, she has to be content with what’s within her power to give him.

Killian sighs and gently sets the small book on the table before his hand and stump settle on her hips.

“Thank you,” he leans down, his nose brushing hers sweetly, reverently, before his lips press against hers – the skin of them rough and warm.

“Is it my turn?”

If her eyes shine with excitement and slight impatience now – sue her. No one has done anything like this for her.

She used to date a guy. A few years after Neal. She was wary at first, the way she was with every guy after Neal. But he kept calling her and he kept buying her flowers and then he started buying her lingerie and then jewelry.

Emma likes to think she is not a material person. There have been times in her life when she went hungry, there have been times when all she had were the clothes on her back. Emma is the kind of girl you can impress with a single flower and a cup of coffee, some seashells and a pair of gloves. But maybe that was exactly why the expensive presents seemed all the more fairytale-like, why they seemed to imply such strong feelings. If people who got you pizza and tickets to your favourite movie, cared for you, what could a man who bought you dozens of roses and gold bracelets feel?

Apparently, anxiety that you would find out he was married. Or maybe guilt over two-timing you and his wife. She didn’t stay long enough to find out.

Emma never cared for lavish gifts. And after that she became downright suspicious of them.

She was most certainly not suspicious of the gorgeous pair of earrings Killian got her for her last birthday and yet. She likes this better. All the small presents that he found for her that make so much sense – from the exclusive hot chocolate flavours and orange and cinnamon candle to the duckling socks and the Princess Bride bookmark – all the thought that obviously went not only into the presents but into their hiding places as well, seeing as she has yet to find one in under 19 minutes and 30 seconds.

“Aye, your turn.”

Killian takes a deep breath and she smiles at him in amusement. He is acting as if he is about to be scouring their apartment for half an hour. That’s her average time.

“Alright then.”

She looks around eagerly and heads for the small hallway.

“Warmer.”

Good. Three options then – bathroom, bedroom or their soon-not-to-be-spare bedroom. They’ve both used the bathroom already so she puts her hand on their bedroom door.

“Colder.”

Killian’s breath stirs the hair on the back of her neck and she feels the goosebumps erupt under her sweater.

Alice’s room it is then. She opens the door and feels Killian right behind her.

“Warmer,” they say in unison.

“Confident are we?” he teases but his voice sounds the tiniest bit uncertain and Emma grins – she can already taste her victory.

Killian’s record for gift-finding is a whooping 6 minutes and 46 seconds. She is sure he has put on the timer and she can’t be more than a couple of minutes in. She looks around the room and heads for the large window. She learnt not to rule out any place after she found one of her presents literally hanging among the drapes in the living room.

Pulling the ephemeral white curtain however reveals no secrets and Emma rolls her eyes at herself. Of course he wouldn’t use the same trick twice. She looks around again. There is the changing table folded in the corner, the crib whose assembling alone would’ve bankrupted them if they’d stuck to the rules of the swear jar.

She is just about to check it from all sides when the mobile above it catches her eye. Or rather the way it is slightly leaning to one side. Emma circles the crib and grins. There, in one of the small boats, is an even smaller box.

She can’t hold in her little whoop of triumph as she reaches out and relieves the boat of its cargo.

“I hope you set the timer because this was definitely less—“

Emma turns around, holding the box proudly.

“Oh.”

He probably didn’t set the timer. What with the kneeling and everything.

“Emma Swan—“

Killian’s voice comes out very hoarse and as he clears his throat, she feels her fingers clutch the velvet box so hard that it dents a little under them.

“I-I know this is far from a grandiose proposal. And, believe me, I have debated every way, place and time that I could do this so it will be… so it might at least come close to what you deserve.”

She bites her lip and tells herself to be quiet. Knowing Killian, he has most certainly thought way too much about what he will say and the last thing she wants to do is cut him short.

“But… nothing about us has ever been grandiose except… except how we feel… how much we… bloody hell.”

He swallows again and Emma lifts her free hand and actually bites on the side of her thumb in an attempt to stop herself from smiling like an idiot. If Killian’s relieved little laugh is anything to go by, she is probably not doing very well. He smiles right back at her and this time his voice comes out stronger and clearer.

“Emma, my darling, my love, I never could have imagined you. Even in my wildest dreams and hopes, I never could’ve conjured up anyone as brilliant, as passionate and beautiful and kind. And I would’ve never dared to.”

No, Emma would’ve never dared to imagine that she can have someone like him either. Someone who will look at her like that. Someone she can keep forever. Hers was not one of those lives.

“Having you in my life at all, having your friendship… changed everything for me. It brought me back to… It quite literally gave me new life. But you and only you would dare to take it so far, to take us both so far, that we end up here.”

He looks pointedly around the room and she can’t help the laugh that comes out or how watery it sounds.

“You have filled my poor old heart with more happiness than I thought it could handle and it is nothing but yours. It will never wish to be anything but yours. And I’m hoping – I would be so bold as to say I believe – yours would be willing to be mine just as long.”

She feels herself nod and she sees Killian smile up at her, though he is a bit blurry.

“Right. Well then… Emma Swan, would you fulfill our hearts’ desires? Would you, once again, take me further than I have ever thought it possible to go? Would you marry me?”

There’s no amount of wishing or fantasizing or watching movies or other people’s happiness unfolding that can ever prepare you for the moment when your whole world is one person and the whole world is yours.

Maybe hers is one of those lives. It’s so much better than she could have ever imagined.

Emma bends her knees slowly, Killian meeting her half way to help her kneel down easily. The permanent crease between his brows deepens – simply from concentration as he helps her but her thumb reaches for it on instinct, smooths it out, preparing the ground. In the next moment her forehead meets his and she exhales – loud and long, something between a laugh and a sob.

There’s a “yes” somewhere in there as well. She repeats it about a dozen more times just to be sure.

She has no clue who initiates the unceasing rain of kisses but somehow she manages to pull away. She has good reason. She really wants that ring on her finger. So she opens the box and she takes it out and she places it in his palm.

Killian grins at her and his lips are more kiss-swollen than she has seen them in a while, they are too dry and chapped from the winter winds at the docks and there is a little blood in the corner where the skin of his upper lip has split open under the pressure of her kisses. She leans over to kiss it away as softly as she can. Like the weirdo she is all she can think about is how symbolic it feels somehow.

“God, I love you so much.”

His eyes sparkle and his grin grows and he captures her mouth again and again – uncaring toward the tender skin unlike her.

“And I you.”

He pulls back and nudges the hand pressed to his chest with his stump as his own hand brings the ring between them again.

“Shall we see if this fits?”

It needs a bit of a push and Killian seems to hesitate for a second.

“A bit tight.”

“No, it will be perfect once I’m back to regular size.”

He huffs a little but laughs along with her and with a bit of encouragement pushes the ring all the way onto her finger. She looks down at it and can’t help the little flutter of pride, of possessive preening. And then—

“I can’t believe you gave me shit for an old book when you got me a diamond ring!”

Killian’s eyes go wide for a second – probably just as stunned as she is that that is what came into her mind right now – and then he bursts out laughing. He doesn’t stop until she cradles the back of his head and pulls his lips back to hers.

They stay there until their knees start to hurt. It’s only as Killian helps her up and she looks around that she becomes aware of the tear tracks on her face.

“I can’t believe I didn’t see it coming at all.”

She can hear the awe in her own voice and Killian wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her in so he can kiss her forehead.

“It was alright, aye?”

She looks up at him in shock. There might be a bit of indignation there as well.

“Uh, no. No, it wasn’t “alright” – it was perfect.”

He grins proudly at her.

///

Emma doesn’t know if it’s the little kid inside her or if it’s the kid inside her that wakes her up bright and early on Christmas day. She can feel the early morning light on the back of her eyelids. She can use some more sleep. Maybe.

She runs her hand over her face and feels the press of cool metal. Her lips pull up. Or maybe she could get up and make her fiancé breakfast. The combination of his schedule and her own reluctance to leave their warm bed earlier than absolutely necessary rarely allow her such an opportunity.

But then she turns her head to the right and sees that once again Killian has made it out of bed before her.

“Damn.”

She will probably have to settle for being the recipient of breakfast in bed. Again. Hers is not an easy life. Emma stretches and grabs her phone, scrolling for a few minutes before she realizes how quiet it is in the apartment. Curiosity manages to overpower her innocent laziness and she drags herself out of bed.

Killian is nowhere to be found though. Bathroom, kitchen and baby room are all empty and quiet.

“Huh.”

Emma feels her daughter moving inside her and places her hands on her stomach, smiling down at her.

“What do you say, baby girl? Shall we make breakfast for when daddy comes back?”

She connects her phone to the little Bluetooth speaker on their kitchen counter and puts on her favourite playlist as she goes about making Killian’s favourite breakfast.

///

“Swan?”

“In the kitchen, my love.”

“The one time you were supposed to oversleep.”

Emma hears him mutter more to himself than her and quirks an eyebrow.

“Could you perhaps go into the bedroom for a spell?”

“I will but I’ll have you know I made French toast and eggs just the way you like them and you are being difficult.”

“You are an angel and I should like nothing better than to enjoy your efforts. In exactly five minutes.”

Emma rolls her eyes and leaves the prettily arranged – if she does say so herself – plates on the counter and heads toward their bedroom.

“I’d appreciate it, if you come and get me when I’m no longer under bedroom arrest.”

“Your wit is one of the things I love most about you, Swan.”

She snorts and grumbles but she doesn’t even think about peaking over her shoulder. Killian isn’t one for over the top surprises and he has yet to pull one that she has not loved so Emma plops down on their bed with a little smile and a healthy dose of excitement fluttering inside.

Less than five minutes later there is a gentle knock on their door and she resists the urge to roll her eyes at it.

Killian pokes his head inside and beams happily at her.

“Good morning, my wife-to-be.”

She closes her eyes and leans her head back, humming in undisguised pleasure.

“Oh, I do like the sound of that.”

She gasps in surprise when she feels his lips on her throat.

“Sneaky,” she breathes out and feels his laugh against her skin.

“Just a spot of payback for all those times you’ve snuck up on me.”

“I haven’t been sneaking up on you nearly as much recently.”

“Well, you are a wee bit bigger now.”

Her eyes pop open. Her gasp is laughably dramatic, the slap to his shoulder is very much for real.

Killian grunts and chuckles, catching her hand so he can bring it to his lips.

“My apologies. Perhaps you will accept your Christmas gift as penance?”

“My Christmas gift?”

“Aye,” his eyes sparkle with excitement but all she can do is gape at him.

“What do you call this?”

She waves her hand in his face almost aggressively.

“I call it an engagement ring, Swan.”

“Yeah,” she nods. “And a pretty solid gift.”

Killian shakes his head resolutely.

“No, no, no. That is a completely separate affair. I am rather offended you thought I was going to use our engagement to kill two occasions with one gift.”

“One? You’ve been buying me gifts all week.”

“So have you.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Are you trying to say that you do not wish to see your gift?”

“No. I’m just saying… you’re showing me up.”

“Nonsense. You have given me the best present by accepting to wear this,” his thumb strokes slowly over the ring on her finger. “And you made French toast.”

She rolls her eyes and uses his shoulders to push herself up.

“Come on, smartass. I want my present.”

“There’s my girl.”

///

Emma is kneeling on her daughter’s bedroom floor for the second time in the last 12 hours. Her palms run over the smooth wood – rich and dark with a gorgeous red tint to it. Maybe it’s cherry. It swoops beautifully, the chair legs turning into arm rests or maybe the other way around – it all flows so smoothly. Forming the shapes of two swans – supporting, guarding the soft seat between them.

“Oh my god.”

She rocks it gently with her hand, not daring to sit down just yet.

That corner has stood empty the whole time they were arranging the room. Right beside the window. They always knew they wanted a rocking chair there, they just could not seem to find the one. And now it was here.

“Where on earth did you find it?”

She hears Killian move behind her. He kneels and spreads his legs, caging her between them. His arms come around her and his chin settles on her shoulder.

“I didn’t it.”

“What do you mean you didn’t?”

“I didn’t find it, Swan.”

His hand runs over the dip of her waist the way hers runs over the chair’s leg.

“Did you… make this?”

She twists around, her nose bumping his cheek. She feels the moisture and she’s not sure if it’s the emotions choking her or simply how wide her eyes are right now. His own blue eyes are warm in the morning light and his smile is both shy and a little sleepy and full of delight.

“I was given advice and directions from someone far more experienced. Did you know August’s father is a carpenter? Marco?”

“You talked to August?!”

He chuckles and looks down.

“Come now, love, I’m a grown man. I can be civil.”

“Sounds like you were more than civil.”

“Not to alarm you but I believe I got along with the old man better than with his son.”

She laughs lightly and shakes her head. When she looks up he is staring at her with a hint of trepidation.

“There are some imperfections, you’ll see. Marco was rather kind, said they give it character but—“

“Killian, it’s… God, I sound like a broken record but it is perfect. I can’t believe you made me a rocking chair.”

“Now, Swan, let’s not be greedy. I made us a rocking chair.”

She shakes her head again and turns further in his loose embrace.

“Thank you.”

She kisses him – quick and sweet and so happy. She never knew she could be this happy.

“Shall we test it out then?”

Killian gets up and gives her a hand then he turns and drops into the chair, letting it rock him for a moment until the motion slows down. Then he gives her hand a tug and pulls her into his lap, her legs thrown over one swan armrest and the rocking motion starts anew.

“Hmm, it’s like we’re at sea.”

“Do you think she likes it?” he asks softly, his hand settling over her baby bump.

“Mhm. We’ll make a sailor out of her.”

“I have just the boat in mind.”

She snuggles further into the softness and warmth of him.

“My French toast is getting cold, Swan.”

“Just a minute.”

He hums in slight protest but his arms only tighten around her.

///

The morning slips into an unseasonably sunny day and after bundling up (or rather bundling each other up – Killian insisting she wear gloves and Emma wrapping him up in the scarf and hat she gave him their first Christmas together) they venture outside despite the chill in the air.

Emma has never been afraid of awkward silences. Aging out of the system comes with a whole lot of waiting around in hallways and offices, in bare bedrooms that she was moving into or moving out of, on lumpy sofas or in the back of cars. New families meant awkward silences, new schools meant small talk that inevitably lapsed into awkward silences, social workers meant questions that made you long for awkward silences and new group homes meant a very specific kind of silence – the silence that underlines too much noise that you are not a part of.

By the time she was “out in the world”, she was used to awkward silences and she preferred them to intrusive questions or insincere niceties.

But the concept of comfortable silences was more or less completely foreign to Emma before she met Killian Jones. To her people fell into 3 categories – ones that wanted to talk about themselves, ones that wanted to make her talk so then they could talk about themselves and ones that were silent and she did not see the point of hanging around to be silent with.

Killian doesn’t like talking about himself too much. Yet, he wants her to know him and she wants to know him and Emma can always tell when he just naturally starts telling her something personal without even realizing it and when he is consciously making an effort to let her in. She likes to think that it’s been more of the former recently. He doesn’t try to make her talk either, but when she starts, he doesn’t wait for his turn in the conversation – he sits and listens.

But it’s the silences that get to Emma the most sometimes. Because when Killian doesn’t seem to have anything in particular to say to her, he is perfectly content to just walk beside her or read his book with her half on top of him and just… be. And Emma is perfectly content as well – with him, together, silent or not, whenever, wherever.

It took her awhile to realize this is what people mean by comfortable silences, that this is what it feels like to want to be with someone even when you’re not really doing or saying anything. When you are just holding hands and wandering down the street, looking at closed shops and people carrying presents under their arms and others walking their dogs and yet others – good god why – jogging on Christmas day, walking to the same slow rhythm and swinging your hands between you just because and looking at each other from time to time and letting your breaths mingle and that’s that.

And it’s lovely. They’ve been walking in perfect silence for over half an hour and it’s just… lovely.

And then he is licking his lips.

“Stop doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“That thing you do with your tongue.”

His eyebrow reaches the edge of his beanie and his grin is overly smug.

“That’s not what you usually say.”

She doesn’t even spare the second to roll her eyes.

“I’m serious. It’s freezing, you shouldn’t lick your lips. That’s why they get chapped and split.”

Killian takes more than a second to roll his eyes at her.

“Are you saying you don’t like kissing me anymore, Swan?”

“I’m saying the exact opposite,” Killian huffs a little but when she wraps her hands around his arm, he pulls her a little closer. “I’m saying I want to kiss you all the time and I’d like to not cause you pain when I do.”

“Never,” he turns around and kisses her cheek to prove his point.

She kisses his split lip to prove hers. It hasn’t had the chance to heal, they’ve probably had too many occasions that required a whole lot of kissing. Like him winning all the “best Christmas present” awards, which—

“Let’s head home. You still have to open your present.”

///

“You are not excited to open your present.”

He shakes his head and she can see the amused little smile in the corner of his mouth.

“I’m excited about all Christmas traditions with you, darling. I simply have more self-control than a young lad and it’s time for lunch.”

“Yup, I’ll definitely get to be the fun parent.”

She thinks it is quite possible she fell irrevocably in love with Killian Jones when she first heard him laugh. But she is absolutely positive she has been falling further every time since.

“I have no problem with that, Swan. But you should really start your grilled cheese now, if you want it to be ready when the soup is.”

She mock salutes him and goes to take the cheese and butter out of the fridge. So they cook and eat and wash and dry the dishes and, deciding to play hard to get with Killian Jones for the first time in her life, Emma starts taking out cookies for desert afterwards.

The cookies, much to Killian’s chagrin, are so hard they can only be eaten with milk. This is fine by Emma. She arranges the slightly burnt and very misshapen stars and swans and Christmas trees on a plate and waits for the milk to warm up, all the while feeling her fiancé’s eyes on her.

If he is on to her game, he is not yet willing to say anything.

But when she hands him a mug and settles comfortably on the couch with her own drink and cookies and her computer in her lap, Killian finally seems to run out of that I’m-not-a-child-on-Christmas patience.

“Swan?” his chin fits perfectly between her shoulder and her neck, watching her browse the Spotify Christmas playlists.

Her only response is a deliberately distracted little hum. She can’t see if he rolls his eyes at her but she feels his nose skip over her bare skin before his lips press lightly.

“Can I have my present now?”

“Oh? Don’t you want to wait until New Year’s?”

He sighs and lays his head fully on her shoulder, his soft hair tickling her chin and her neck. She almost feels bad. She supposes that Killian’s exasperating patience and unconcern with his own presents has less to do with his age and more to do with him still being very out of practice with receiving any. Not that she has that much experience either. Which definitely shows in her mediocre presents. Dammit. She really shouldn’t have built this up.

She turns her head and buries her nose in his greying hair, inhaling the scent of his peppermint shampoo and sighing deeply. Killian doesn’t care how good or bad she is at buying and hiding presents. She repeats that to herself a couple of times before she gets up.

When she comes back, Killian has taken over two and a half of the three cushions and has a cookie stuffed in his mouth as he scrolls through her playlists, and Emma feels the tension between her shoulder blades release a bit. The way his eyes widen when he sees the rather large box in her hands helps as well. Or not.

“Ok, don’t get excited,” she warns way more sternly than she intended before she lowers herself onto the floor.

Killian follows suit so that the box rests between them and he is definitely curious at least. Nervous insects taking up residence with their baby aside, she doesn’t mind the way his eyes sparkle at her.

“So you know how men get their girlfriend lingerie and pretend it’s not a present for themselves?”

“I cannot deny that part of me would be flattered, if you got me a box full of lingerie but—“

“That’s not—“ she rolls her eyes and tries to give him a look but she still has to let him open this so it’s probably more nervous than reprimanding. “I mean that it’s kinda a present for me. I mean, it’s for both of us but I—“

“Emma.”

He grabs the hand that she is waving around way too much and smiles at her and—

She reaches over and runs her thumb over his bottom lip.

“Open it.”

Killian’s eyebrows furrow in confusion but he dutifully opens his mouth and her laughter is so loud compared to the soft Christmas song coming from the speakers.

“The box, Killian.”

It might be the quickest she has ever seen him blush. He ducks his head and lifts the simple lid to reveal all the other boxes inside.

“Ok, so this,” she reaches for the smallest one and shakes out the lip balm. “Is for your lips. It has no colour but it’s pomegranate flavor so you’ll like it.”

She doesn’t really look up to see his reaction, just powers on and grabs the next box.

“Since we definitely don’t have space for a dishwasher in that kitchen, hand cream it is. Mine is rosewater and yours is cucumber but we can totally exchange if you want. OK, on to the serious stuff.”

She keeps shoving boxes in his hand and sharing the information she spent more than a week accumulation. Unisex body lotions, a series of bath products that are supposed to help with loose skin – post her pregnancy, and sore muscles – post Killian’s every work day, an oil that is good for both old and new burns – and Killian keeps acquiring those in the kitchen, sunscreen with the highest factor and special protection against salt water, capsaicin cream and gel meant to help alleviate phantom pains, creams and lotions for her stretch marks, and a series of other ointments recommended for deep scars or muscle strains.

She is about to move on to the rolls and massagers when she looks up. Killian’s jaw seems a bit more slack than usual.

“Too much? Too girly?”

He doesn’t laugh, he shakes his head and pulls her into a kiss. She shoves the boxes to the side so she can move closer.

“Not at all. I hope that strawberry and vanilla one is for me,” he says against her lips and she laughs and nods.

“Whatever you want, my love.”

Before Killian, there were only a handful of times when Emma entertained the idea of a serious relationship with an actual living and breathing human, but there were plenty – especially when she found herself in a particularly dreary apartment or her neighbours were a particularly cute couple – when she hypothetically wondered what being in a comminuted, full-time relationship will be like. To be quite honest, her mind also strayed that way when she got particularly lazy in the winter and stopped shaving for a month or two or when she woke up in the middle of the night with a little bloodstain on her bedsheets.

Overall, she gave a thought or two to how exhausting being in a full-time relationship might be – having to always be in a state in which you wouldn’t mind your significant other seeing you in, having to reign in your less than charming or downright disgusting habits.

And she honestly has no clue if people keep worrying about all that once they are in a relationship but frankly, now – there is no state in which she would mind Killian seeing her. No, when she thought “Shit. Pregnancy stretch marks.” her following thought was “Oh, I’ll get Killian to give me massages.”

And Killian – Killian was all about lights off, clothes on, “no, it’s fine”, “let me spend an hour between your legs but oh, no, you don’t have to” at first.

Now – she has to remind him of the benefits of sleep pants every other month and when he pulls a muscle at the docks, he doesn’t wait for her to offer him a massage so much as he butts his head into her arm or thigh like an over-eager puppy until she gives him her full attention. And she is far from displeased when—

“I do have a question though,” Killian picks up a bottle of body milk with aloe. “How is this at all similar to purchasing lingerie?”

She grins and turns her head to nibble lightly on his ear.

“Well… I don’t mean to underestimate you but these things are much easier to use with two hands.”

“Indeed.”

“So you might require assistance.”

“Emma, love… did you get me an outrageous amount of skin care products just so… you can regularly get your hands on me.”

He looks both shocked and so absolutely delighted by the prospect that Emma can literally feel her whole body sputtering in confusion, unsure whether she should blush or laugh or scoff or—

She buries her head in his chest and pulls the ends of his cardigan closer to hide herself. Killian folds her further into his arms and whispers silly things like how much he loves her.

She pulls back eventually, smoothing her hair away from her face and trying for a serious tone.

“Let’s get one thing straight though – I fully expect you to reciprocate.”

“Swan, have I ever been opposed to—“

“No, but this is not gonna be like… fun times. There will be like two months of no fun times. And you gotta help me do post-pregnancy damage control. While we take care of a baby.”

Killian smiles at her – lovingly and way too serenely in her opinion.

“I’ve… God, this is so stupid and vain and just— I’ve just really enjoyed being your young and pretty girlfriend, ok?”

His eyes are very blue. Also very wide, unnaturally wide.

“First, the word “pretty” is an insult to your radian beauty.”

She snorts and she blushes and yeah. This is her life now. Her husband-to-be says stuff like this.

“Second, you will always be my young and much-more-than-merely-pretty girlfriend and no marks of aging or stretching or anything could ever diminish that. Least of all ones that result from you giving birth to our daughter. And, bloody hell, if you worry about that, how am I supposed to feel?”

Her hand makes it under two layers of clothing for the delight that is Killian’s bare skin under her fingertips and she leans down to kiss his neck.

“You’re supposed to feel very good and very much like trying a few of these out with that woman who is constantly looking for reasons to get her hands on you.”

“She is a pain.”

She pinches his side.

“Ah-ah! But I supposed I should oblige her.”

“You’re such a gentleman.”

“I’m getting the strawberry and vanilla.”

Killian unearths the desired bottle from the pile beside them and helps her to her feet.

“You do realize I’m the worst massage partner one can have, yes?” he asks even as he tugs her toward their bedroom and Emma just frowns up at him in a mix of confusion and offense. “I have just the one very rough hand.”

He slips said hand below the stretchy waistband of her sweatpants and Emma feels anything but deterred.

“For the sake of honesty, I admit nobody else has given me a massage.”

Killian was rather outraged when he first found that out even though it works both ways.

“But, also for the sake of honesty,” she attacks his buttons with a speed that might be unbecoming for a pregnant woman but Emma really can’t bring herself to care. “I should say I’m perfectly satisfied with the arrangement.”

For what it’s worth, Killian doesn’t seem to find anything about her unbecoming as he assists her with the express undressing.

“Not yet. But you will be if I have anything to say about it.”

For the sake of honesty, she should add that nobody has ever touched her as softly as Killian does, as carefully, deliberately, reverently – his hand fitting perfectly around her ankle, along her calves and thighs and in the dip of her spine.

For the sake of honesty, she should add that the only thing she loves more than Killian’s hand on her is her hands on him – running the expanse of his shoulders, connecting all the little dots and marks on his back like a treasure map, her thumbs fitting perfectly in the dimples on his low back as her palms fit over his ass.

For the sake of honesty, she should add that she has never been more certain than she is in the golden afternoon light, with Killian spread out on their bed and their bedroom smelling of strawberry and vanilla, with her ring turning round and round – slippery from all the lotion on her hands, and her daughter making her presence known inside her – she has never been more certain that hers is not one of those lives she longed for and knew she should never have.

It's better.

[takemedancingmaine]

Unpack Your Heart

Third and Final(!) Part of ‘Greenlight’ for @deathbylowden (Mary, I got a bit carried away with this one). Part 1 | Part 2 

Listen - Unpack Your Heart by Phillip Phillips

Two days. You've got two days left in Scotland before you're due home for two weeks for the winter Holidays.

It's not just two days left in the country you've fallen in love with that's got you upset.

It's that soon you'll have to leave Jack as well. Leave him behind here in Scotland while you fly back to Chicago and freeze to death for the next two weeks. Not even the promise of Portillo's chocolate cake was making you excited to head home.

You were still trying not to think about leaving, to ignore the pang in your chest when you thought about it, but the end is so close to you it's starting to creep in like an unwanted darkness spreading and blacking out all the good you'd managed to find in this impossibly green wonderland that Scotland is.

Together you and Jack are spending the penultimate adventure day here just on a beach in Portobello. You are staying at Jack's family home tonight, meeting his mum and dad (ma and da, as he calls them). He'd warned you about his ferocious dog, too.

But you'd seen pictures, he wasn't fooling anybody: that dog was bound to be a fluff ball of love and cuddles.

"Wait," his voice pulls you from your thoughts about voyagers sailing from this very spot.

You'd been looking out at the waves, your camera tucked away in your bag, and just taking in the sight before you.

It was cloudy, little pokes of light peeking through even with the threat of rain from some of the darker clouds above you.

The sea ahead was a mixture of green and grey and blue, all the angrier shades of the respective colours mixing together in order to create the impression of the cold swirling water that lies beneath the shimmering surface.

You couldn't explain the draw you felt to it. Before you'd known what you were doing, you were slipping out of your boots and pulling off your socks.

"Are you mental?" Jack looks at you as you roll up your jeans to about the midway point on your calves.

"Probably," you smile up at him before you move on to your other pant leg to roll it up as well.

"That's the North Sea," he points out, his face clouded with concern, his voice becoming a bit more strained. "It's gotta be less than ten degrees!"

"Right," you nod. "Yeah, it'll be a bit cold." You stand up to full height again and drop your bag beside your shoes before looking at him, smirking at his discomfort as you take a small step backwards, toward the water line.

"A bit?"

"It's all about the experience," you smile. "Have you never done a polar plunge?"

"No, and I didn't have any plans to," he gives you a look.

"Your loss then," you shrug and turn, speeding off toward the water at a bit of a jog. You're only a few feet away, just where the sand turns thick, damp and cool when you're stopped by an arm slipping around your waist and hoisting you up.

"What're you doing, not even waiting for me?" His mouth is right beside your ear, his beard tickling your neck as he holds you flush against him with your feet off the ground. You try not to think about how strong he is if he's lifting you with only one arm.

"What do you mean?" You pant out, grateful he can't see your flushed cheeks from his vantage point.

"Well I'm not going to let you go it alone, am I?" He asks.

"But you said-"

"Changed me mind, didn't I?" He cuts you off. "Now if I put you down will you wait for me to take my boots off?" His breath is mixing with the wind, and your not sure which is making the baby hairs on the back of your neck rise up. You have a pretty good hunch though.

You bite your lip and nod.

He chuckles a bit and places you back on the ground; you immediately notice the loss of contact, and when you turn you see him bent down untying his boots and mumbling to himself.

"What was that?" You ask with a smirk.

He glances up at you from rolling his pant legs up, his hair windswept, his eyes alight, filled with humour.

"Didnae say anything," he shakes his head as he stands back up fully beside you.

"Shit you didn't," you roll your eyes.

"The things you get me to do," he says with a smile. You're not sure, but you're pretty sure he's referring to the One Direction listening session you'd forced upon him in the car last week, on top of this, of course.

"You've got free will," you shove his arm a bit and he reaches for your hand to hold it.

"Not around you," he mumbles under his breath. You're not sure if you were meant to hear it, but you definitely did.

"SHITE FUCK JESUS CUNT-"

"Inappropriate," you cut him off with a laugh at his antics as he attempts to continue his tirade while the water slides over your feet and the sand, sending shocks through you and Jack.

"Like hell it's inappropriate," he complains and tries to run back before the next wave comes in to cover your toes.

Your hand is still in his though, and you're not letting go, despite him trying his best to pull you backwards.

Instead, much to his disbelief and his disgruntlement, you take another step forward and plant your feet into the damp sand. The coarse texture both smooth and rough under your toes as you wiggle them around a bit and watch the next wave--the one that Jack had tried valiantly to get away from--come in and cover your feet.

Jack squeezes your hand and tries to give you a little tug, but you don't acknowledge him. Instead, you take a deep breath of the sea air and close your eyes, raising your face to the sky a bit as you just feel: no photographs, no article to write about the place, nothing.

It's just you, Jack, and the sea.

"Three-hundred?" You stare at him, open-mouthed as he drives along the road his family home is found on.

"That's a generous sum, too," he nods and glances at you from the corner of his eye. "Back when I was a kid, it was two-seventy. I doubt that's been added to."

"Two-seventy to win," you murmur and blush when he gives you a confused look.

"America joke," you shrug, the blush making your way down.

"Ah," he nods. Still not getting it but going along with it anyway.

"Is that it?" You point out the front windscreen.

It's a small cottage-style home that's coming into view and immediately a feeling of comfort and excitement settles into you at just the sight of it.

Beside you, Jack nods and smiles. "That's home."

It's his voice. There's a tone that's just absolutely perfect for the setting you've found yourself in. A rustic cottage snug on a hill in the smallest town you've ever been, a dog running up to the car to greet you as Jack pulls in the drive, the greens and greys of the trees and they sky blurring together when the wind blows through them. The temperature swiftly dropping since this afternoon and yet the feeling of warmth that settles within you when you see his face gaze upon home, the delight of seeing his pup again is enough to keep you from getting a chill.

You hope that you adopt that tone when talking if Scotland and you're time here in the very near future. You've never felt more of a connection to a place.

Perhaps it's also the company rather than just the place alone, a voice whispers in your mind as you both push your doors open and exit the car. You try hard to keep that voice quiet.

"Hey, laddie!" The good boy is jumping on Jack's legs, barking and panting in delight at the sight of him. Jack, ever the pushover you've found him to be, crouches down and begins to pet him, burying his face in the fluffy fur.

After a few moments, Jack nudges the dog away from his face so that he can smile up at you.

"This is Archie," he introduces you. Archie, having realized there's another person, reacquires all the energy he'd just expended saying hello to Jack and turns it on you.

With a laugh, you give him the backs of your hands so he can smell and assess you when he leaps over from Jack to you. He seems to decide to trust you.

"Good boy," you coo and bend down, as Jack had, to pet him while he tries to lick your face and neck.

"Oi!" Jack teasingly chastises Archie. "The world's changed, mate. You'll get in trouble if you don't ask her consent first."

"Are you saying it was okay before?" You arch an eyebrow at him while petting the pup.

"Course not," he shakes his head. "I'm just tryna keep my best mate from getting locked up for it."

"I think he's fine," you laugh and finally push yourself back up to standing. "He's quite a killer, though. All bite and no bark."

"You're such a comedian," he rolls his eyes and takes your hand, leading you to the front door with Archie hot on your heels.

"We're off to bed, you two," Jack's mum, clicks off the hallway light as her and his dad make toward the stairs.

It's half-eleven in the evening.

Your night had consisted of meeting Jack's parents, playing a rather lopsided game of fetch with Archie, doing the washing up despite the indignation Jack's mum felt and the rather persistent shooing she did to try and keep you away, and finally while she and Jack's dad sat in the study and did a crossword together while listening to Frank Sinatra--seriously how cute was that?--you and Jack had been sat on his sofa watching the first few episodes of The Marvelous Mrs Maisel.

"Night," Jack calls back with a wave and small smile over his shoulder.

"Goodnight," you turn quickly and his mum nods at you with a warm smile before following her husband to disappear up the stairs.

"Mum likes you," Jack says quietly from his spot. The two of you are sitting against opposite arms of the sofa, your legs stretched out side-by-side in between you. Multiple fluffy and soft blankets are strewn haphazardly across you as you shoot him a look in confusion.

"It was the washing up," he shrugs.

"I thought she was going to murder me for doing the washing up at one point," you raise an eyebrow at him.

"She'll never admit it, at least, I don't think she will, but she really admired that you did it, appreciated it," he shrugs and turns back toward the show only to realize the credits were going.

"She's only known me a couple of hours and she's probably the nicest human being I've ever met," you tell him honestly. "And your dad," he turns back from the credits to you, "he seems really cool as well. Really enjoys his Scottish history."

"You didn't think I got my admiration from no one, did you?" Jack asks, amusement colouring his features.

"It's all making sense now," you kick his thigh with your toes.

A quietness falls over the two of you, neither of you making a move to start the next episode, neither of you saying anything.

"What're you thinking about?"

Jack's soft voice pulls you from your reverie a few minutes later.

"About you," you say truthfully before you can stop yourself, your cheeks flushing red at your admission. "About Scotland and how much I'll miss it. About how it's going to be a full thirty degrees colder when I get home. About how I'll have to always schedule layovers in Glasgow and Edinburgh from now on," you start smiling. "Mostly about how I really don't want this trip to end the day after tomorrow."

His gaze locks in on yours from across the sofa, he puts his hand on your calves.

"It has been pretty good, hasn't it?" He asks.

"All thanks to you," you nod your head. "My editor is so pleased with the work I've done. Says it's my best yet," you add. "I told him it's probably a one-time thing."

Jack laughs quietly to himself, biting his lip as his dimples flash and make you feel some kind of way. He's embarrassed as the insinuation he's behind your best work.

"I'm sure I'll never bump into another stranger in a cafe to judge my guidebook and then offer to take me around himself," you nudge him again with your toes.

"I hope you don't," he gives you a look. "Stranger danger and all tha," he smirks, but there something in his joking tone that doesn't fit well with his words, with his expression. It's poking you, trying to get you to decipher it.

So you keep talking, hoping it'll help you to figure it out.

"I trusted you, didn't I?" You point out. Poke.

"I'm different," he defends himself.

"Different? Different how?" Poke.

“I dunno,” he shrugs. “I’m me. I’m special.”

“How so?” You’re not letting it drop. You’re going to keep poking this secret until it’s out in front of you because you’ll never figure it out on your own.

“I just am,” he says.

“Bullshit,” you narrow your eyes. Poke. Poke. Poke.

“You’re going to make me say it?” he asks.

You don’t say anything. You just raise an eyebrow.

“Because I’m me,” he says and when you actually physically poke him again with your toes he narrows his eyes back at you. “Because I don’t want anyone else to fall in love with you like I did,” he says in one, rushed, very low breath. “I don’t want anyone else to have that privilege.”

Nope. That can’t be it.

You freeze and he pulls his legs up, wrapping his arms around them and resting his chin on his knees as he looks at you so earnestly in the low light. You’re not even sure you’re breathing; maybe the lack of oxygen is causing hallucinations. That’s it.

Because there’s no way he just said that.

None.

“I hate that I said that word,” he shakes his head a bit and bites his lower lip.

You blink.

“It’s not that it’s not true, but I feel like it’s hard to believe that I love you after only knowing you two weeks,” he whispers, almost to himself. “I’ve been in love before, I know that sometimes it takes a while to be nurtured and to grow, and I’m not saying it was love at first sight, but… I love you. That’s what I’m saying. I’m different because I’ve fallen in love with you.”

You blink again.

He’s still taking.

“I think I knew I would,” his words are soft, caressing your ears. “I think that’s why I stopped, why I teased you about going to Loch Ness, why I offered to take you around. I think I knew then, but I didn’t actually know until just this afternoon when you dragged me into the sea with you.”

You finally manage a breath.

“I just wanted you to know before you leave,” he gives you an impish grin. “You don’t have to say anything or pretend to feel the same way, but I didna think I could live with myself if I didn’t tell you. And I only figured it out myself a coupla hours ago as it is. This all seems so ridiculous. And of course, you’re letting me ramble because you can’t think of words to tell me how stupid I am and how you’re going to be glad to be rid of me tomorrow and how I’m such a fool about-“

“Shut up.”

He clamps his mouth shut and looks at you. Fear, rejection, hurt, loss… all of these things flash behind his eyes as he watches you.

You untangle yourself from all the blankets as you stand up from your spot on the couch and kneel on the floor beside where he’s sat on the couch. Your head is level with his as he turns and watches you. You place your hands on top of his and pull them towards you, feeling them between your fingers like it’s where they’re meant to be.

“Every day,” you whisper calmly.

Confusion crosses his face when you pause.

“Every day since I met you I’ve been telling myself not to fall in love with you,” your voice is surprisingly even as your thumbs stroke patterns across the backs of his hands.

His breathing stops.

“And every day, despite my better judgement, despite my trying everything in my power not to… every day I fell more and more in love with you.”

His breath leaves him with a heavy sigh, but he doesn’t take in another just yet. He’s waiting.

“I didn’t love you until today,” you keep on, still surprised at how calm you are about this all. “I didn’t put that final piece together to make a whole until just this afternoon when you, despite everything, followed me into the sea and stood with me. In the frigid water, you just stood there holding my hand and taking it all in.”

It’s his turn to blink at you.

He’s breathing now, at least, though.

“I didn’t want to admit it because I’m leaving so soon and I figured you’d never feel the same way. I just wanted to go home and sulk and have you move on and forget about me-”

“I’d never,” he whispers.

“That’s what I was thinking though,” you lean your forehead against his own, feel his breath against your cheek. “I was hoping you’d go and fall in love with someone else, someone who would be around all the time, who wouldn’t constantly be leaving you. I wanted better for you than me-“

“I don’t.”

You let out a short laugh. “I wanted that for you,” you tell him. “But I don’t anymore. I want you, selfishly, more than I want it to be easy for either of us.”

“I want you too,” Jack’s hands move from yours, one hand cupping your cheek, the other slipping around your back.

“Even with my terrible taste in tourist traps?” You ask.

“I’ll admit, that makes it harder-“ he’s cut off when you let out a laugh. “No,” he shakes his head, his beard scratching deliciously against your cheeks. “No, I don’t care you have terrible taste in tourist traps.”

“But what about my constant travelling?” you ask.

“I’m always the one leaving someone behind,” he says, his eyes searching yours, and you feel yourself freeze again. “Even if I’m leaving you to film, even if I’m not with you and you’re leaving me to travel, I’m not leaving you behind. We’re both individually happy people, but we’ve fallen in love and despite how hard the circumstances may come to be, we can figure it all out. Together.”

You unfreeze.

“You could come to Chicago for New Years,” you offer. One of your hands goes up to cup his face and the other tangles into the short hair at the back of his neck.

“Hogmanay,” he says with a laugh.

“Excuse me?” You pull back a bit to make sure you’re not missing something important.

“Scottish for New Year,” he smiles.

You roll your eyes.

“But yes, I can come to Chicago for it,” he leans in a bit.

“You want to kiss me, don’t you?”

“So badly,” his breath mingles with your own.

“Nothing’s stopping you now, Lowden. Man up a bit and-“

He’s kissing you. Soft and tender, but his hands on you are pulling you closer. You find yourself lying beside him on the couch, chest to chest, your leg is thrown over his hip—because why not?—as you make out like your lives depend on it.

“So we’re making this work?” he asks after a while. His eyes alight, his lips red and swollen, his hands tracing circles across your skin.

“Making what work?” You ask, your tone aloof.

“You’re going to pay for that,” he growls and despite your giggles at his reaction, he captures your lips with his again, holding you close to him for as long as he’s able.

[dontshootmespence]

Frozen Feet

A/N: I just needed to write a little bit of Jemily. Domestic, funny, fluffy Jemily. @coveofmemories @sexualemobitch @jamiemelyn @unstoppableangel8

                                                              ----

“Why won’t the heat work faster!?!” Emily pouted, gently beating her head against the wall of JJ’s house. After a long week, and with the kids over by Will, Emily had decided to spend the week, but the second she walked in the house, the power went out...which meant the heat went out...which meant Emily would be cold. She hated being cold. “Baby, make the heat come back!” she screamed.

JJ couldn’t help but laugh at her new girlfriend. After years of pushing away those feelings, she couldn’t do it any longer and so had ended her relationship with Will. At first, she thought things might change because the nature of their relationship was changing, but she was still herself and Emily was still Emily - the same pouting Emily that hated being cold as she always had. “I’m sorry, Em,” she laughed. “The power was out for an hour and this house loses heat fast, so you’re gonna have to wait, but since the power is back on, how about we watch a movie? I can cuddle with you until the house gets heated up again.”

Emily pouted some more and digressed. “Alright, let me go get changed. Then maybe we can watch The Devil Wears Prada?”

JJ rolled her eyes. Of course that would be the one she picked. That’s the one she always picked. it was her favorite after all, and JJ had come to love it too. 

After washing her face and getting changed, Emily returned to the couch in an oversized t-shirt and flannel pajama pants. JJ returned with the movie moments later in a big, fluffy sweatshirt and shorts, determined to huddle up inside of it once she’d made them both some hot cocoa. “You’re making me cocoa?” Emily asked. “You do love me.”

“Of course I do,” JJ said, heading back towards the couch with cocoa in hand. She bent down to kiss Emily on the forehead, both of their eyes fluttering closed at the featherlight touch of JJ’s lips on her skin. Emily reached her hand up and cupped the back of JJ’s head, bringing her closer until they were consumed by each other and nearly forgot about watching their movie all together.

When she pulled away, Emily pouted again, causing JJ to giggle before she set herself back on the couch huddled up inside her sweatshirt. As the movie started, Emily found that her feet were still cold, and she had this thing about socks. They were fine when she had to wear shoes, but wearing them plain annoyed the ever-loving crap out of her, so instead of going to get them she slowly and sneakily tried to sneak her feet underneath JJ’s sweatshirt.

The second she did though, JJ pushed her feet away while she hissed at the iciness of her girlfriend’s feet. “Oh my god, Em, what are you, dead?”

“Yes, my feet are killing me.”

“Put on socks.”

“You know how I feel about socks,” Emily replied with a chuckle. 

For a while, they continued the movie with no interruptions, but Emily’s feet just felt colder and colder, and over and over again she tried to warm them against JJ somehow. It became a game inside her own mind to see how long it would take JJ to notice that her feet were inching closer and closer to warmth. 

“TOUCH ME WITH YOUR COLD FEET ONE MORE TIME!!!” JJ screamed, laughing as she turned toward Emily and lunged on her. “Your feet are fucking freezing. Get them away from me!”

“But I thought you loved me!” Emily exclaimed. “My poor feet are cold! Help me! What would you tell Henry and Michael to do?”

“Wear socks, you weirdo!” 

Emily’s head snapped back as she laughed, only being silenced when JJ crawled on top of her and took her mouth in a heated kiss. “How about I warm you up then?” She winked. 

“That might just be acceptable,” Emily laughed. JJ kissed her girlfriend all over, her skin leaving prickling hot spots behind. As they consumed each other, Emily burrowed her feet into the couch cushion that JJ had been sitting on.

Meanwhile JJ continued to kiss down Emily’s frame in pursuit of warming her up from head to toe. Once she got down to her lower legs, she noticed where Emily’s feet were. “I see you’ve found a solution to your problem that didn’t require touching my butt with your freezing feet.”

“Problem solved!” Emily laughed. “And I get kisses. Couldn’t be better.”

[narisjournal-blog]

In a Shroud of Wings

To keep you warm at night. ❤

Castiel x Reader Word count: 1,375 Warnings: Mild language Fluff. It’s soooo fluffy, metaphorically and literally. This fluff will get all up in your hair and everything. You’ll be finding it for days.

My beta reader/husband asked why he needed to be topless. Because he doesn’t want to rip his shirt…Obviously.

**DISCLAIMER: I spell it ‘Cass’ like in the show and the script. If it bothers you, I don’t mind if you imagine away the second ’S’.

__________

Imagine… Castiel warming you up on a cold night with his wings…

You close the motel room door quickly behind you to preserve what little heat there is inside. The icy wind follows you in, and the cold from the snow seems to have seeped into your bones. Your body is convulsing in uncontrollable shivers.

‘Fuck Winter,’ you utter through chattering teeth. You make a bee-line for the bed, unable to bear the thought of removing any clothes, but knowing how uncomfortable you’ll be if you don’t at least take off your bra. You pull the old school changing rooms trick and pull it out through your sleeve.

You tentatively remove your boots and hop up onto the mattress quickly, keeping your jeans and hoodie on. You wrap the quilt around you and bury your face into it too. you sit there curled up for a while, still shivering. The quilt offers minimal warmth. You try to wriggle about a bit, but you are too tired to keep it up, not that it does any good anyway.

You slump down onto the pillows, curled up in the bunched quilt. What you wouldn’t give for a heater or a hot water bottle right now. Or a warm body next to you.

The day swirls around in your head, and your tiredness becomes a heavy weight that overcomes you. You wouldn’t call it sleep, though. You are still shivering, the cold preventing you from really relaxing. His face flutters through your mind. His face and those deep blue eyes and the kindness he showed you today. His name rattles around your head.

Castiel.

They tell you to think warm thoughts. Well, the angel is a warm thought. You imagine his trenchcoat as an extra layer to keep you warm, his arms wrapped around you.

You think you must be dreaming because you hear the flap of wings. Then silence.

You daren’t lift your head from under the covers to look. the cold air will find you. ‘Cas?’ you chance, your voice muffled by the quilt. You hear movement, and the mattress sinks beside you.

Adrenaline surges through your body, your heart pounding.

What if it’s not Cas? What if it’s some other supernatural being skulking around the dark room?

‘You were praying,’ he says softly. You feel his hand on you through the sheets. ‘Are you hurt?’

His misunderstanding brings a smile to your cheeks. His concern fills you with a different kind of warmth.

‘No,’ you mumble.

You sigh. He can just see the round shape in the covers deflate. You imagine his tilted head and furrowed brow.

You wriggle your head out of the quilt and feel the sharp air bite at your nose. Your hair is a static mess, flopping over your face and sticking out wildly at odd angles. Your eyes find his in the dark.

‘I’m fucking freezing.’

If you squint, you can see the penny dropping.

He is still touching you, on your waist, in fact, and he looks down at his hand. His fingers curve round your shape so he is almost gripping you, and before you have the chance to let your mind devour this fact, you feel the warmth pooling, spreading through your body from his touch. A soft glow emits from his hand, lighting up his face and those glittering eyes that are fixed on you.

You can’t help but groan as the heat fills up your body. Pins and needles start to tingle in your previously numb toes. You feel all your muscles relax.

‘Better?’ he asks, not taking his hand or his eyes from you.

‘Mmm.’ You say. ‘Thank you.’

Finally, he removes his hand from you. Immediately, you feel the cold air begin to creep back in again. You must be tired, and desperate, because you actually whimper. You whimper, for fuck’s sake.

Castiel sighs.

‘This quilt does not seem sufficient,’ he remarks, the offending item slipping over his fingers.

You begin to shiver again, and despite his comment being true, you pull it closer around yourself.

He stands up, because you feel the mattress spring back into place. You squint up at him and notice he is removing his coat. Such a gentleman, you think.

But he continues removing his jacket, his shirt, carefully laying them on the chair. For a moment, you even forget to shiver as you wonder what exactly he proposes to do next.

Your eyes have adjusted to the dark, but you can still see mostly a shadowy figure. In the dim moonlight, you could be forgiven for thinking you imagined what you saw next.

Behind Castiel, two large shadows emerge and unfurl, soft and unkempt. Bold and magnificent. His wings fold up behind him as he kicks off his shoes and kneels again on the bed.

He tugs at the quilt. ‘Take this off,’ he says. You blink up at his shadowed face, tugging it back and pulling it round you.

‘It’s cold.’ you whine. ‘Aren’t you cold?’ You can see him roll his eyes even in the dark, his shoulders slumping impatiently.

‘I’m going to warm you up.’

You let the quilt slip from your fingers as he pulls it off. Another whimper emits from your throat, and you hug your knees to your chest.

Cass shuffles in behind you so you are sat between his legs, and he slides his arms around your middle. Before you have the chance to dwell on his thumbs brushing against the bottom of your breasts, you are enveloped in a warm shroud, soft feathers brushing against your face. You gasp.

Castiel rests his chin on your shoulder, and you feel warmth pooling into your body again. You sigh and relax into him, his wings wrapping further around you. You hold onto his arms, which are still around your middle, and as the effects of the cold dissolve, you follow the urge to lift a hand to the feathers in front of you.

They are soft and warm as they slide through your fingers, the vanes stroking across your skin.

Castiel lets out a sigh into your neck.

‘How come I’ve never seen these before?’ you ask, now combing through the softer, downier feathers.

‘Because you can only see them if I want you to,’ he answers simply. He leans back against the head of the bed, and you slump into him, snuggling back against his bare chest. Castiel kisses the top of your head.

‘You should get some sleep,’ he murmers. You can feel the warmth that is locked in behind his wings relax your body and your eyelids are getting heavy.

‘mmm,’ is your only response.

He pulls you close to him, then slides both of you down so you are laying down, both on your sides. you bury your face in his firm chest, his dark wing draping over you. With your legs curled up, the long, lower feathers reach past your toes, and you can feel them even through your socks. You also feel the soft bed of feathers beneath you and realise that you might never have been this comfortable in your life.

You feel yourself drifting, his feathers still settling and twitching occasionally when you move. Soon, a warm, soft, peaceful sleep envelopes you like Castiel’s wings.

*

You wake up when you hear your phone alarm, and you open bleary eyes to dim daylight seeping through the thin curtains. You fumble around for your phone, finding it and tapping the screen several times to get it to shut up.

You push yourself to sit up, feeling a warm flush in your cheeks, as if your whole body is glowing. Your heart sinks a little to find that Cas is no longer there. You begin to wonder if you dreamed the whole thing.

But then you look down at the bed around you, and it is littered with fluffy, blue-black feathers. You even find one in your hair and stuck to your jeans. You laugh as you pull them out. As you stand up to freshen up and sort your hair out, you notice a note on the nightstand. It reads:

Sorry about the mess. You fidget a lot. I guess I moulted. Cas x