#so I was NEVER allowed to one-up him in any way because ‘killian’s sooo strong and smart and has never been cut by a blade actually’ SHUT UP

[sunnibits]

this is why he needs to die btw

just realized that because I’ve left my jackass DM’s campaign (therefore giving me full control over Dimitri’s story and lore) I could totally draw Dimitri killing my least favorite NPC with hammers and NOBODY can fucking tell me that it isn’t canon

[ineffablecolors]

Number 6? Or number 11? I’m always a sucker for when Emma’s grinchy heart grows three sizes as she discovers Killian really isn’t an asshole.

Thank you, anon! This is definitely not finished but I’m too excited to share it and hear what you guys think. Sooo probably expect part 2 toward the end of the week :D 

I’m doing winter prompts from here. If you like them, check out ‘Tis The Season and if you really really like them, check out my brand new book which also contains a selection of Christmas stories. :))

11. you’re the asshole of our group and we don’t get along, but then i find out you make soup for the local shelter

you’re such an assh- oh. [Part 1] [Part 2]; ~ 3, 200 words; FF.NET || AO3

“Love, you know Isteer clear of all that.”

Emma suppresses theurge to roll her eyes at his deep timbre, the way he rolls the word “love”around and flutters his eyelashes slightly – all obviously meant to charm MaryMargaret and let him have his way. As always.

“Oh, come on, Killian.You can let me have this one. It’s just a fortune, you don’t even have to showit to us.”

Jones sighs as ifdrawing a fortune slip out of the Christmas hat MM has been thrusting at eachof them in turn is the biggest sacrifice he has ever been asked to make. Emmafeels only slightly petty about the way she pointedly strides over and plungesher hand into the red felt.

Truth be told, Emmaisn’t the biggest fan of MM’s numerous Christmas activities either – the SecretSanta, the cookie exchanges, the ostentatious dinners, and now the Christmasfortunes, but there are few things she will not do for the sake of her bestfriend. There are also few things she will not do to spite Killian Jones.

If the way he doesn’t suppress his eyeroll at heractions is anything to go on, he knows it too.

“What did ya get, Ems?Please, let it be one of the saucy ones I wrote!” Ruby somehow manages to clapwith the glass of wine in her hand.

Emma pulls the pieceof paper out of its miniature envelope and groans at how many times it’s folded– by the time she has managed to get it all smoothed out Ruby is making dyingnoises.

“Alright, alright. Iswear this is made for people with miniature fingers. Here – A selfless good deed is the thing to make aheart sweet.”

This time she doesn’tsuppress her eyeroll. Her only consolation is that Ruby huffs in displeasureand drops back into her armchair, clearly displeased with Emma’s less than “saucy”fortune.

“Oh, that’s lovely,Emma!”

She puts on a smilefor Mary Margaret’s sake and looks back at the piece of paper. She has nodesire to “sweeten” her heart but doing a good deed over the holidays doesn’tsound like such a bad idea actually. Truthfully, Emma feels a little bad abouthow impersonal most of her holiday “good deeds” have been. She usually donatesto some organization aiding homeless people and sends some presents to anorphanage of her choice – both close to her heart, but she has never actuallygone and gotten involved personally. Maybe this will be the year.

She is drawn out ofher thoughts by the little jingle of the Santa hat that Mary Margaret is nowliterally shoving in Jones’ face. If the guy wasn’t such an asshole, Emma wouldactually sympathize with him.

“Come on, Killian.”

Especially when MMbreaks out her most winning smile. It’s as effective as Jones’ charms, if notmore so. Not that those have ever worked on Emma.

Honestly, she has noidea how such an arrogant man as Killian Jones wormed his way into the friendcircle of people such as David and Mary Margaret Nolan, Belle French and GrahamHumbert. Sure, she and Ruby aren’t without their thorns but their places in thegroup were solidified by their statuses – hers as Mary Margaret’s best friendand Ruby’s as Belle’s girlfriend, and they are always willing to take part inany group activities and eager to be with their self-made family.

The same cannot besaid about Killian Jones. Sure, he is a friend of David’s but he seems toaccept their invitations about as often as he turns them down. He never takes part in the Secret Santa. Henever hosts movie nights at hisplace. He rarely joins on day trips.He rarely joins them for dinnercelebrations, choosing to slink in when they are already at the bar instead. Hehas even missed a birthday party on occasion. Emma – with how much this groupof people means to her – thinks he is not nearly as appreciative as he shouldbe of how David has allowed him into their family and how they continue toinvite him to everything despite his flakiness.

At least he got overhimself enough to draw a fortune. Mary Margaret is positively beaming at him.Emma is trying to put a limit on her eyerolls allowance for the evening.

“Well, what does itsay?”

Jones seems startledby her question. His cough is incredibly uncomfortable and he looks around asif—

“Would you mind, love?”

He extends the littleenvelope toward Mary Margaret and she and Emma both look confused for a moment.MM seems to get with the program much faster.

“Oh, of course!”

She thrusts the hatwith the rest of the fortunes at Emma and takes Jones’ fortune. It’s only whenher slim fingers work their way into the small envelope and start on thetedious process of unfolding the tiny slip of paper that Emma realizes that’s apretty not one-hand job.

“Do you want me toread it out loud?”

Killian shrugs.

“If you wish.”

Mary Margaret looksdown at the fortune and Emma has just enough time to get confused by the slightblush that quickly works its way into her cheeks before MM glances at Ruby andit becomes clear that Killian has drawn one of Ruby’s “saucy” fortunes.Figures.

“Ummm,” MM swallowsand passes it to him and Emma is shocked to see that whatever is on the pieceof paper makes even Jones’ ears turn a little bit pink.

He stuffs the fortuneinto his back pocket and he and MM share a look that obviously swears them bothto secrecy in seconds. Emma’s curiosity is warring with her desire to show nointerest to the extend that she even considers sneaking the thing out ofKillian’s back pocket. Which she will never do. Of course not.

“More wine, Ems?”

“Eh.”

With obviousreluctance she holds her glass toward Ruby and one of the bottles of red Jonesbrought. Emma is not a snob. Not by a long shot. But Killian Jones has trulyhorrendous taste in wine. Or, more likely, he truly cannot be bothered to pickand buy a good one. It’s just another little thing that shows her how little hecares about the group of people who have welcomed him so warmly.

Emma has spent ashocking amount of time thinking about ways to fulfill her fortune. She hassettled on getting more involved with the two initiatives that she generallyjust donates money to. So three weeks before Christmas she finds herself at ashelter in a less than thriving neighbourhood, dressed in her oldest jeans anda dark hoodie under her thick winter jacket.

“Hello, may I helpyou?”

Emma looks at theblonde woman before her and her first thought is that she looks like she isrunning a law firm rather than a shelter’s kitchen. Her hair is pulled backinto an immaculate braid and her white sweater is absolutely spotless. Emmafeels like it’s mocking the safety of her hoodie.

“Hi, I’m Emma? Icalled beforehand to ask when you might need volunteers?”

“Oh, yes, Emma! Thankyou so much for coming! We’re still setting up in the kitchen but I canintroduce you to everyone and show you to the station. We should be opening inanother 15 minutes or so,” the woman gives a brisk nod and starts walking. “Oh,I’m Elsa, by the way.”

By the look and soundof Elsa, Emma is sure they will be opening in exactly 15 minutes.

“So, tonight you’ll bemanning the station with Leroy – he is a veteran here so if you have anyquestions, he will know the answer.”

The short man givesElsa a nod while Emma just receives a suspicious once-over.

“Don’t let the scowlfool you, he is here every Christmas and will never refuse to show you theropes,” Elsa assures her and continues on, deaf to Leroy’s grumbling behindthem. “My sister Anna and her fiancé Kristoff should be joining you any minute. They have the bad habit ofcutting it pretty close quite often.”

Elsa’s pursed lips arenot exactly frightening but they sure don’t invite one to consider tardiness avirtue. Emma would be more put off but she considers that it probably takes astrong hand to organize and run such a thing.

“And don’t worry – ifthey are a bit late, Killian will come out to help you start off.”

Killian? Wha-

“Jones?!”

The guy stirring theenormous pot of soup gives a little jump and whirls around, the spoon in hishand splashes a little and Elsa must have put some sort of magical protectionon her sweater because it remains miraculously white and spotless despite herproximity to the stove.

“Swan?!”

“I see I don’t have tomake introductions here,” Elsa seems pleased by this development.

Emma is still stuck onthe fact that Killian Jones is makingsoup at a homeless shelter.

“So I’d say you candirect any questions at Killian. He has just as much experience as Leroy and heis much nicer to newcomers. Or justmuch nicer, period.”

Elsa laughs for thefirst time since Emma met her. Killian seems uncomfortable with praise for thefirst time since Emma met him. Emma has no clue what is happening and beforeshe can truly absorb it all Elsa waves at some place where the aprons are keptapparently and floats out, leaving her alone in the small kitchen with the lastman she expected to find there.

“You’d better grab oneof those before you get started, Swan. Can get quite messy after a couple ofhours.”

“What are you doinghere?”

She cringes a little.That was a bit too accusatory when asking why someone is being charitablearound Christmas.

“Same as you, I’mguessing.”

She looks at KillianJones and tries not to think that she is seeing him for the first time. It’shard though – especially when the tension in his shoulders is clear as day andshe can tell that his tongue is running restlessly over his lips even though hehas turned his attention back to his soup. The soup that he apparently made.That he often makes. For the homeless.

“You do this?”

His shoulders do thisrippling thing and now they are tight with another kind of emotion.Frustration, if she has to guess. Emma is surprised at how well she can readKillian’s emotions right now.

“It’s not the Ritz,Swan. You can chop some vegetables and stir some soup even with one hand.”

That’s not what—

“That’s not what I mea—“

“You meant why I’mdoing something other than throwing back beers and flirting my way into women’spanties for a change?”

She opens her mouth.Then she closes it again. Well, it kinda is what she meant, she just didn’tthink he—

“Yes, I’m well-awareof what you think of me. I’m sure finding Graham or David here wouldn’t havebeen such a shock.”

No, it wouldn’t have.But the bitterness in his tone is almost as much of a shock as his presence.

“I just—“

She is really not surewhat she would have said, she is really grateful for the girl that suddenlystorms in – Anna she will soon learn – chattering a mile a minute.

“Oh, you must be Emma!”

Somehow, in the spanof a second, Anna manages to introduce herself, give her a quick and veryunexpected hug, whirl around, kiss Killian on the cheek and whirl back aroundin time to introduce Emma to her fiancé.

“You should really puton a—“

“Here,” Killian thruststhe worn apron into her hands and turns back to his soup.

Anna beams at Killian’sback, oblivious to the tension that still lingers in the room.

“Lesson number 1,Killian is a lifesaver, if you fuck up – spill something, burn yourself, cut yourself,just come here and he’ll fix you right up.”

Emma is almost certainthat Killian mutters something along the lines of “I’m sure she’d rather not”but Anna is already dragging her out the door and talking about how Elsa’sschedule is law and must be abided at all costs.

She spends three hoursladling out soup that Killian Jones made for the less fortunate. It gives herplenty of time to think about things. Or more like, to keep going in circles.As soon as she has convinced herself that she has wrongfully labeled KillianJones an asshole, the cynical voice in her head pipes up and insists that onegood deed does not a good person make. As soon as that happens, another smoothor wrinkled face beams at her as she hands them their full bowl.

The thing is that thisisn’t just “one good deed”. Killian is obviously an almost permanent fixturehere. Elsa, Anna and Kristoff obviously know him quite well and think nothingbut the best of him. Some of the people that come in even ask about himpersonally. Anna lets a particularly excited little boy back into the kitchenand Emma is pretty sure he was clutching a handmade Christmas card and—

Her cynical voice isreally losing this one.

She heads to the backto leave her apron and take her jacket, still lost in thought, convinced thatJones must have gone home by now and she has some time to consider what thehell she should say the next time she sees him.

“You can leave that overthere with the rest. Elsa will collect and wash them.”

She doesn’t yelp buther eyes almost pop out of her head. Thankfully, Jones has his back to her again,though he has now moved to the sink.

“Jesus. What are youstill doing here?”

He sighs and Emmamentally slaps herself. Maybe it’s time she stops questioning his presence.

“As I pointed outearlier, Swan, this is not the Ritz. The “chef” and the dishwasher are one andthe same.”

“I got that, I’m notsome spoilt princess that stumbled here by mistake, you know?”

“I’m not questioningwhy you’re here,” he says emotionlessly.

Right. That’s her job.

“I can help with theclean up before I take this off.”

She motions to herapron and before Killian can approve or disprove of her suggestion, she reachesfor one of the huge pots. That’s her first mistake. Her second one is assumingit’s empty.

“Shit!”

Water with bits ofvegetables spills all over the floor and her shoes. And her old jeans. Fuck.

“Bloody hell!”

“Shit! Sorry! Shit,shit!”

“Go find Elsa. She’llfind you a change of clothes.”

“I’ll clean this and—“

“Swan,” Killian fixesher with a serious look that looks surprisingly calm and not angry. “It’s notanywhere near warm in here. Go get changed, I’ll clean this up and we’ll getyou a cab.”

She opens her mouth toprotest but snaps it shut and actually does as she is told.

Killian finds heroutside ten minutes later – soaked jeans and all.

“Before you startberating me, Elsa had just left – some engagement with her aunt.”

Jones sighs and runs ahand through his messy hair. His hand is very pink, probably something to do withwashing a mountain of pots and ladles.

“And cabs seem to beallergic to this street.”

“The neighbourhood ingeneral,” he mutters and his hand reaches toward his hair again when Emma feelsthe full body shiver wrack through her.

Killian’s hand freezeshalf way up and he sighs in resignation and drops it back to his side.

“Come on, Swan.”

He starts walkingbefore she can so much as blink at him in confusion. Emma is only a little putout that she feels compelled to follow.

“Where are we going?”she asks as she catches up to him and tries to ignore the way the cold windplasters her wet jeans to her flesh.

“I live just aroundthe corner.”

“You do?”

Killian doesn’t sayanything.

It’s not a niceneighbourhood and it’s not a nice building. But Emma is much too cold toconsider much of anything until Killian Jones is waving her into his apartment.

“Sorry, it’s not—“ hedoesn’t finish, just waves his hand in the air and hurries to turn up the heat.

He really doesn’t haveanything to apologize for – the place is tidier than her apartment has everbeen. Everything seems to have its place and nothing is just thrown around eventhough it’s basically one room – his bed and wardrobe at the far wall with twoprecariously high columns of books instead of a nightstand, a worn couch and asmall IKEA table in the middle and a kitchen corner to her right.

It’s not exactlypleasantly warm inside but Emma is not numb with cold anymore. She is awareenough to read the new tension that has settled on Killian’s shoulders. Not thestrange and unfamiliar one that Elsa’s praise put there earlier but one thatEmma is a bit more acquainted with – the one that always seems to fall over himwhen he is faced with some task that he cannot perform one-handed. Shame.

“I think these willalmost fit you.”

She snaps her headaround and looks down at the sweatpants that Killian is holding out to her.

“You can…” he waves atthe only door in the apartment that probably leads to the bathroom. “I’ll tryto get you a cab or an Uber.”

“Thanks, I—“ she lookshelplessly between him and the sweatpants, then she takes them and feels a bitsilly over the way she clutches them in front of her chest. “Thanks.”

His bathroom is justas spotless as the rest of the place and just as small and sparsely decorated.Emma puts down the toilet seat and leaves her jacket, wallet and phone on itbefore she bends down to unzip her boots.

She cringes at themuddy footprints that she has left on the blue tiles.

“Great.”

Is it something abouttonight in particular or has she always been the worst? Now, Jones isdefinitely never inviting them to—

The position shefreezes in must be comical to an outsider. In her socks, trying to avoid herown muddy footprints, one hand tugging the wet jeans off one leg and the otherclutching at the sink. It’s not comical to Emma. Emma is too busy having anepiphany about Killian Jones.

Killian Jones whoregularly helps out at a homeless shelter. Killian Jones who lives in a smallapartment in a bad neighbourhood. Killian Jones who never hosts movie nights. KillianJones who never takes part in the Secret Santa. Killian Jones who never joins themfor dinner in the kinda trendy restaurants that Ruby makes them spurge for fromtime to time. Killian Jones with the busy schedule. Killian Jones with thecheap wine.

Fuck.

“Fuck.”