#swan said she liked my phone case lol

[dahyun]

my selfies with dosie and swan lol

[allyougottado]

HI Doodle! How have you been? I've been kinda meh bc of college but thats beside the point. About your reblog of sending you a character (or in this case, coach haha) I wanna see your list on either Maybel or Joshua or Lumen Brooks(I'm indecisive about those 3, they've been filling my mind lately aaaaaaa), even tho they dont have much lore, I love read others HC, so I'm eager to read yours^^(sorry if they wont fill all the list thingy:()

i’ll try to do all 3 cuz i rly like these coaches as well 😎 (i'm skipping fave line and song i associate them with because... ppl dont speak in just dance and i'm not creative enough to associate coaches with any song other than their own map LOL)

maybel‼️‼️

fave thing about them: her design is so cute!!!! i love yellow and her dress looks inspired by poodle skirts with the little line (phone cord?) spiraling down the skirt lol it’s so adorable. i especially love the alt. design cuz purple sleeveless jacket is CUTESY (also she looks like she’s matching with joshua with the sleeveless jacket hehe 🤭 very CUTE💯💯💯)

least fave thing about them: nothing to hate abt her 😍

brOTP: love you like a love song (this headcanon was subconciously created by looking at ur art btw LOL)

OTP: JOSHUA‼️‼️‼️

nOTP: i’m ngl i have never seen any other ship with maybel in it LOL

random headcanon: she’s a softie but the one thing she’s loud abt is her #LOVE!!!! i probz got this from the straightforward and aggressively-lovey vibe from call me maybe (and the dance too), but also a description from the JD twitter lol (they describe her as the sweet one hehe)

unpopular opinion: idk i’ve never seen too much opinions that i disagree with abt her

fave picture of them: it’s scrapped but this is kick ass maybel from puppet master lmao

joshua😎

fave thing about them: the fake personality i made for him in my head 😼 and also his yellow glove probably

least fave thing about them: i'm gonna be really honest this part will probably be empty for almost everyone i’m not a person who hates easily 😭

brOTP: i always thought that #thatpower extreme and sorry looked similar to him (i think everyone else did too LOL) so YEAH they’re totally bros to me. i also group epsilon with those 3 but if i explain it will totally derail :P

OTP: maybel 💛🩷

nOTP: haven't seen anything too hateable yet lol

random headcanon: kuudere lolz. basically the exact same thing i said for maybel but instead of sweet and soft (🥺) he's like cold and serious on the outside but super hype and chill when he's dancing or talking to ppl he likes

also he’s probz the most normal compared to #thatpower extreme and sorry lol

unpopular opinion: once again, i haven't seen too much opinions i can disagree with lol

fave picture of them: this screenshot i took from youtube lmao

lumen brooks!!!!!🎸

fave thing about them: ur gonna be so shocked when you hear this but i love his yellow raincoat i want it for myself. also he has TEAL HAIR! TEN MILLION CHARACTER DESIGN POINTS TO YOU UBISOFT (blue hair=looks like miku=good)

also i like rock so his map is so cool. i like how they went with a quirky weird rock map instead of a depressing dark one like the two they added in 2023 like yeahhhhh lets switch it up a little (no hate tho i fucking love evanescence BTW)

least fave thing about them: WOAH it’s a bit too soon to hate lolz

brOTP: probz p1 and p3, zephyr reef and crimson riff. i know they’re most likely not even real but i’d like to think he treats them as if they were his bros. also it would be rlly funny if he just has crazy flow powers and can make stuff he draws real harold and the purple crayon style

OTP: nothing rn

nOTP: also nothing rn… that game needs to come out so i have more brainpower to think of cool stuff to say 😾

random headcanon: when u think punk he doesn’t really look like one compared to crimson riff but he probz acts like one lol. would probably hate ppl like night swan and nithe long. and probably kids in america too (she’s falling for the propaganda… 😔 lol) also he’s loud. idk why i think that it just fits to me lol. also everyone probably thinks he’s #CRAYZAY 🤪 but don’t worry bro. i understand you 🤝

unpopular opinion: idk at first i thought he would be chill with scotty but i somehow changed my mind like scotty’s too much of a sweetie pie and lumen is too feisty (to me hehe) i still like fanworks with both of them in it tho they’re funny. like clashing personality stuff is still very entertaining to me

fave picture of them: idk he’s only existed for a couple of months so there’s not much pics of him… probz the little cartoony promo art from twitter cuz i like how huge they drew his rainboots here LOL

(also hiii mey i’m meh as well LOL when i typed the first half of this post i was out at the mall and i feel like i embarrassed myself so hard there 😭 embarrassment still lingers and it sucks cuz i love the mall but whatever… I’M SENDING MY ENERGY TO YOU SO COLLEGE CAN GET A LITTLE LESS SUCKY 🫶💓)

[i0-0na]

Entry 7: First Hang Out

Date: 15.04.2024

This week was quiet, I didn’t go out that much because I was busy focusing on university work, for Bristol UWE, as the initial deadline was slowly approaching. However, on Friday, me and some of the other students decided to meet for a little drink/picnic in Ueno Park. Public drinking is legal here, I was shocked but not surprised because of the number of stories or things you hear about with Japanese drinking culture.

However, before I met with the rest, I decided to show Dom around Harajuku real quick. Specifically, the backstreets, and boyyyy he literally fell in love lol. Ask him yourself if you ever meet him hahaha.

I did my makeup gal style (gyaru) that day, whenever I go to Harajuku, I always want to dress up extra, and slay harder than usual!! Also, whilst we were there, we decided to go to La Foret, this cool shopping mall which has lots of j-fashion brands. I ventured to nearly every floor and added so much to my mental wish list (if I were to buy everything, I liked there I would’ve gone broke lol). As I went to the lower floors, Dom and I stumbled upon this independent artist pop-up area. Again, I found so many things I loved but I actually happened to find this one illustration artist who I was already following on Instagram selling her stuff there! Like stickers and stuff. https://www.instagram.com/gyaruuuuuuuu?utm_source=ig_web_button_share_sheet&igsh=ZDNlZDc0MzIxNw==

She is also a fellow gyaru~ So I decided to pick up some of her stuff✨

However further exploring this area I found this one guy setting up his station, he was a fashion designer and we got to talking for a while and they even complimented my look! They were really chill! When I went more into the centre of this area, I found Fruits magazines! FRUITS MAGAZINES!!

FRUITS!!!!

MAGAZINEESSS!!! MULTIPLE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

For those who don’t know it’s this famous magazine which captures J-fashion street styles from the 90s-2010s, it went out of publishment not so long ago. This was because of the creator … saying that “there were no longer any cool kids in Harajuku anymore”, extreme I know but if you remember what I said a while ago about “the death of Harajuku J-fashion/subcultures” you could kind of understand. This is a very influential magazine, I’d say most people who are into J-fashion found out about it through fruits magazine, I’d say maybe 70% of people find out about it through that magazine. In other words, this is like my bible! I had to buy it no questions asked!!

A very funny interaction I had whilst was going to pay was that on my phone case there’s a little see through part which allows me to put a little image of whatever I want. Typically, idols, fictional characters, lovers, friends or whatever photo you want can typically go inside! I decided a while ago to put this drawing I made of a somewhat recent character I’ve been obsessed with, Miguel O’Hara ✨ From Across the Spiderverse. If you haven’t watched it you totally should its amazingggggg, the first movie I liked, but the second one, MWAH, its cult classic material I LOVE ITTTTTTTTTT. I like what watched it like 4 times in cinemas or something, 7 ish times in general of the top of my head it was soo good! However when I went to pay one of the cashiers I caught peering at my phone case, she asked who it was, I responded, and she knew of Miguel and the movie TOT!!! We both like fangirled for a hot minute. I love to see that fangirling is a global phenomenon hahahhahaa.

However, time was of the essence, and we needed to go and meet the others. So, we met Matthijs and Minnie around the entrance to Ueno Park, and together we walked a lap around the park. We saw street vendors, public entertainers, swan boats and sooo many picnics as it was Sakura season of course. Without a picnic blanket we decided to sit down and vibe together. Another person from student exchange came later, Anna. It was really nice to get to know everyone before university started!

We also asked some people to take a photo of us with Minnies polaroid, she says for her documentation of her stay that she’ll take a polaroid photo every day. So cool~ In an exchange the people also asked to take photos with us too lol.

Later on, we headed over to somewhere nearby to look for an izakaya for some food and drinks, it was super busy, but again a nice vibe!! And food!!! ------------------------------------

I still have so much coursework to finish. I want to relax and explore Japan, so the quicker I finish this assignment the sooner I can be free and have fun! I am having fun right now still though >-<

Bye for now~~~~

Song Listening to Now: Magnetic - ILLIT

[resident-of-storybrooke]

Nothing Good Happens After 2AM (Ch 4)

Rating: M (finally earning that for this chapter)

Words: 2900

Read: ao3, ff.net CH 1 CH 2 CH 3

Summary: Emma took Killian home for the holidays as a fake date. Things seemed to be going well…until it didn’t. What happens when two fools in love didn’t confess their love over the holidays like they planned and have to go back home to reality? This. This is what happened…(A twist on fake dating during the holidays)

AN: Well....shit lol here we finally are! I wish I had a good reason for the year and a half delay. Honestly, I got one not so great review and it shook me a bit and I was already iffy about writing. But thank you to so many incredible souls being so encouraging and supporting me to get back into writing. Thank you to @kmomof4​ who read all four chapters and edited them (make sure to check them out). I really hope you enjoy this last part as I’m so happy to finally have this out for you all. A very late and final contribution to @csjanuaryjoy

tagging some of the fam squad (please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed): @kymbersmith-90 @let-it-raines @artistic-writer @hollyethecurious @hookedonapirate @carpedzem @nowforruin @kmomof4 @wellhellotragic @thesschesthair @teamhook​ @winterbaby89​ @zaharadessert​ @stahlop​ @ultraluckycatnd @blowmiakisscolin​ @peggyswan​ @jrob64​ @klynn-stormz​​ @tiganasummertree​ @batana54​ @pirateprincessofpizza​​

ALL THE LOVE

Ruby made her way back up to the party, excited to see how the rest of the night would play out after her phone call to Emma. As she made her way back into Killian’s apartment she saw the Nolans as they gestured rather animatedly. Then Ruby rounded the corner and looked in to see who they were yelling at. 

Shit. 

It was Killian. 

And from the looks of it they were letting Killian have it. And he was just standing there taking it.  

What the hell did he get into in the last five minutes to warrant this? Ruby was both concerned, but mostly entertained because the sweet sunshine Charmings never yelled. She strolled into the kitchen with a grin, figuring she would enjoy the show. That was until the furious couple saw her - apparently she was their new target. 

“Ruby Elizabeth Lucas! You have a lot of explaining to do.”

Ruby was confused to say the least. How the hell was she involved in... whatever this was? 

“Um...I don’t know what you’re talking about?”

“Bullshit, Ruby!” She was completely taken back, Mary Margaret never swore. “You just told me that Emma thought Killian was dating Elsa. And last time I checked Killian and Emma have been together for the last three months. So please, explain yourself. Now.”

“I feel like it’s not really my place,” she said, darting her eyes toward Killian, but she could tell no one was buying it. “Listen, Snow White and Prince Charming, your poor sister felt pressured to bring a date home for the holidays. She and Killian decided to go to Ruth’s and tell y’all they were dating so you’d back the hell off. And it worked and everything was fine. Then Elsa showed up and spooked Emma because she thought she lost her chance with him. Because shocker,” she looked fiercely at Killian and had to restrain herself from smacking him upside the head, “they’re both in love with each other and are being absolutely idotic and not telling the other the truth.” She turned back toward the stunned silent Charmings, “And you two are not helping the cause!”

Killian looked up in complete shock, his eyebrows nearly reaching his hair. The Nolans stood gaping at her, obviously not expecting her brutal honesty. 

“Listen,” Ruby took a deep breath. “Cut them some slack. You two were acting like Emma was going to turn into some crazy old spinster if she didn’t find a date soon. Also, you two act as though you are a literal fairytale couple.” She shrugged. “Sometimes it’s hard to live up to your kind of love.”

As David stood in shock, Mary Margaret finally spoke up. “We went too far, didn’t we?” That’s when she turned to Killian. “We’re sorry, Killian. We shouldn’t have ever put you in this situation. We love you, we love Emma, and that wasn’t fair...I hope you can forgive our behavior this evening.”

Just as Killian was about to speak up, the door opened revealing an out of breath Emma Swan.

Emma was confused by the odd looks she was receiving as her welcome. She should be used to their bizarre behavior at this point, but this felt different. 

As she made her way over to the group her nerves set back in. She was here to tell Killian the truth. She was going to finally confess her love for her best friend. On his birthday. What could possibly go wrong?

“Right, well, this has been fun. Perhaps we should give these two some alone time.” Ruby elbowed the couple so Emma and Killian could have a moment.

As Emma walked towards Killian she finally took in her surroundings and realized how packed the apartment was. “I wish there were less people here…”

“Why, Swan? I love large parties, they’re so intimate. At small parties-”

“-there isn’t any privacy. I like it when you quote things to me.” Looking at him, she realized how close they were. She wasn’t even aware of her own movement toward him. Then she looked into his blue eyes. She missed them. 

She missed him. 

They stood there, taking each other in. It’d been weeks since they’d been together, really together. Neither one knew how to start. 

“Emma, you came.”

She wished in that moment she had something poetic to respond with, but that wouldn’t be Emma. “That’s what she said.”

The two instantly burst into laughter, the tension dying with every laugh. 

“I missed you, Swan.” Killian reached his hand out to tuck a loose strand behind her ear, Emma leaned into his touch. 

“I missed you too. I’m so sorry I ran…I wish I had a good excuse, but I don’t. I wanted to tell you so many times how I felt. I was going to tell you. On New Year's Eve. I was finally going to tell you. I had this whole plan. It was a good plan. And then Ruby fucking decided to be Chef Julia Child and give me food posioning. And then...I saw how happy you looked with Elsa and I thought, I thought, I’d lost my chance with you.” Emma finally found the courage to look up when she finished.

Killian’s eyes were full of unshed tears. When Emma opened her mouth to try and say something to break the tension Killian wrapped his arms around her. Emma finally took a breath. A breath she had been holding for weeks. He didn’t hate her. 

“Emma, my love, I promise nothing happened with Elsa. She was Liam’s fiance. She’s an old friend and nothing more. You though...you’re so much more than that. I’ve been a coward. I’ve hidden behind our friendship, behind the lie we told your family, and I will not do that any longer. I’ve had three words on the tip of my tongue since the night we met, I swear, and I will not waste another minute without you hearing them.”

Emma extracted herself from his grasp. “Before you do, I have something for you.” 

Killian lets out a sigh, “Really? Right now?”

Without another word Emma pulled the small red box from her clutch and handed it to Killian. He looked at her with curious eyes. “It’s your birthday, open the damn thing, Jones.”

“So demanding. Now what do we have here? It's a-” 

He stopped.  

Mistletoe. 

It was the most infuriating object that haunted his dreams - well, besides Emma. That trip to her home, the infernal garnish was everywhere. 

There was that kiss.

God, that kiss. He relieved it daily, prayed that it wasn’t the last kiss he’d ever share with Emma. Up until this moment he was convinced that would be the case.

“Well, Swan, this is quite the gift. I don’t know exactly what to say.” He scratched behind his ear, a nervous tick they were both well aware of. 

“I, um, do you wanna see if it works?” Killian’s eyes shot up to Emma.

“Well, love, seems only right I try it out with you since you were the one that gave me such a generous gift. Shall we...”

Emma cut him off with a bruising kiss, it caught him a little off guard, but it only took a moment for him to catch up. Killian didn’t give a damn that there was a party going on around them. He finally had Emma in his arms. Emma’s hands wandered to the nape of his neck, holding on for dear life. Killian’s hands roamed down her sides before anchoring on her hips, holding her tightly against him. He cursed the fact that Emma was wearing a dress, even if she did look bloody gorgeous in the tight red piece. He couldn’t wait to have that blasted thing on his floor.

They finally broke for air, still clinging to one another, foreheads touching. Killian was ready to dive back in when he looked up and remembered they weren’t alone. Mary Margaret was crying, Ruby was cheering, and David looked slightly annoyed but Killian saw the small smile he was trying but failing to hide. 

“Come on, love. I think it’s time we faced the vultures. And I’d like you to meet Elsa, if that’s alright with you?”

“Yeah, I think that’s a pretty good idea, Captain.” Emma reached down and grabbed Killian’s hand before they walked over. 

Maybe the trope board wasn't wrong after all. 

CSCSCSCSCSCSCSCS

As the party went on, Killian and Emma were inseparable; the two constantly touching the other. At one point, while talking to Mary Margaret and David, Emma laid her head on Killian's shoulder, something she'd done a million times, but this time Killian placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. 

The two were in their own happy bubble. They pretended to be engaged with those around them, but they couldn't ignore but feel the sparks ignited with each touch.  

"So, Emma? It's nice to finally meet you. I'm sorry for the miscommunication. I feel as though that was my fault." Emma was confused on how Elsa seemed to be privy to their issue, but then she saw Mary Margaret across the room and assumed her friend had filled her in.

"Please, don't be. I was...scared I lost my chance with Killian."

"Oh, honey. I don't think you could ever lose this one." Killian squeezed Emma closer to prove her point. 

Turns out Elsa was hilarious and had wonderfully embarrassing stories about Killian. Emma had a feeling the two were going to be good friends after tonight. 

The party eventually wound down a little after one, slowly the various couples left. That's when Emma realized she was alone with Killian. 

Finally. 

Suddenly, Emma felt her nerves grow. They'd declared their love and haven't left the others' side since, but she would be lying if she said she wasn't nervous. She absentmindedly threw out some empty cups as she tried to plan her next move.

"Love," Killian called for her from the living room, "can you come here?" Emma slowly made her way into the room as Killian stretched out his arms to embrace her. 

"Emma, I...I know that tonight has been a lot. Our relationship has always been a lot. And I know the future is uncertain, but there's one thing I want you to be certain of - I will always be by your side. For as long as you'll let me, my love."

She didn't even know a tear had slipped until Killian pulled back to wipe it. 

"I haven't always made things easy. I get spooked easily, but I'm tired of running. I want to be with you, Killian. I love you."

"And I you, my beautiful Swan." 

The kiss started off slowly, different than the one earlier, but no less passionate. Emma brought her hands around Killian's neck, playing with the nape of his hair. As Killian kissed down her neck, Emma didn't recognize the noises that escaped her mouth.

As their kisses continued, Emma was surprised when Killian's legs hit the couch and he fell down. She hadn’t been aware that they moved. Emma said she was tired of running, and she was ready to show him. So she straddled his legs and hovered over him for just a moment.

They felt like teenagers again, making out on a couch like this. She could feel him harden beneath her, driving her wild. But, it wasn't enough, she needed more. Emma started unbuttoning his shirt, the bastard already had the top three undone. Without a second thought, she began to rake her fingers through the coarse black hair. 

"I've been dying to do this since we first met. So soft," she murmured. Killian found a spot behind her ear that made her mewl. Emma brought her lips to his ear, "I've always wondered how it'd feel against my breasts." 

With that, Killian pulled back. "My love, are you sure? We can wait. Because once I have you, I'm never going to let you go." Emma nodded slowly. As she looked into his eyes, she could barely see a trace of blue. His pupils were blown. 

Before Emma could stand, Killian wrapped his arms around her to carry her to his bedroom. He only ran into the wall twice as Emma was no doubt leaving marks on his neck. Killian gently placed her in the middle of the bed. 

"I always swore that if we got here, I would worship every inch of you."

"Killian, please, worship later. I need you now."

"Just a taste. Patience, darling." Killian was beyond thankful at that moment Emma had opted for a dress as he quickly removed her thong.  

Before she could speak, he brought his mouth to her sex. "You're already drenched for me. You..fuck...you taste delicious."

Emma couldn't speak, he was overwhelming in every sense of the word. She grabbed a fistful of his hair, not that she needed to guide him; he knew exactly what he was doing. 

Killian replaced his mouth with two fingers. "That's it, Emma. You look so beautiful like this. I want you to come for me, darling. Come and then I'll give you what you really want."

His voice was deeper, accent thicker. Emma had a feeling she could finish from his voice alone, but right now, it was his fingers and mouth that were going to do the trick. 

Emma lost all control of her limbs as he sent her over the edge. He didn't let up though, he continued slowly licking as she came back down. As her breathing returned to normal, Killian kissed up her body. 

"Worship later, Killian,” she moaned again. “Please. I need you. Now."

"So demanding, Swan,” he observed, taking his pants and boxer briefs off. “I think I like this side of you, all in a commanding voice, chills really." 

He climbed back on top of her, but instead of responding, Emma hooked her legs around Killian and flipped him, so he laid on his back. He looked up in awe, he had never been so turned on than in this moment. 

Emma decided she was tired of waiting, but before she could sink down Killian stopped her. "Give me a moment, let me grab something, I -"

"I'm clean, and I'm on the pill. I...I don't want anything between us."

"Gods, Emma. If you're sure? I'm good too, I haven't been with anyone since...since we met." 

Emma dove down to meet his lips as she sank down onto him. Killian swallowed her gasp as she adjusted to his size. Of course, he lived up to every innuendo, and Emma couldn't be happier for that than in this moment. 

For first times, they were both surprised with how easy it was to fall into rhythm with the other. There were only a few slightly awkward moments, but that didn't stop them from enjoying this moment. Emma's hips met Killian's with each thrust, quickly driving the other wild. 

"So fucking glorious, Emma. You're so tight like this. Ride my cock, such a good girl. I want to feel you come around me this time. You're stunning when you come. That's...fuck... that's it Emma, take what you need, darling."

Before Emma could even respond, Killian decided it was her turn to be flipped on her back. "Now, if I remember correctly, you wanted to know how it feels with me on top."

"That's, ugh, that's not exactly what I said. But I'm not complaining."

Emma felt that familiar sensation growing in her stomach as Killian's pace intensified. "Killian, I'm close. Together, I wanna -"

"Aye, love, together."

Killian felt her tighten around him as she moaned out in ecstasy, pulling him right after her. He gave her a searing kiss as he spilled himself inside of her. Killian fell on top of her, too exhausted to worry about crushing her for a moment. 

"Killian? As much as I love how, uh, close we are now, do you think you can move? I can't breathe, and I need to clean up."

"Oi, you're gonna give a man a complex!" Killian slowly rolled off her, in awe of the glow Emma radiated at the moment. Emma couldn't help but giggle as he was being an annoying ass, but mostly he was still...Killian. 

They were still them. Except they just had mind-blowing sex. 

She could get used to this new addition to their relationship. 

"Stay here, love. Let me." Killian was back in a moment and helped clean Emma. When he finished, he placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, just like before. 

"What is it, Swan?"

"Nothing, I'm just happy. It's just so surprising."

"Aye, love, me too. But this doesn't change anything. I've loved you for years now, and we'll go at whatever pace we both see fit, but I'm in this for the long haul."

"As am I, Captain."

The two laid in bed, cuddled close, and shared lazy kisses. When Emma looked at the clock, she saw it was nearly three in the morning. A few weeks ago, Emma had thought nothing good happened after two am; it turns out she was wrong. 

"Swan? Can you tell me what the bloody hell a trope board is?"

[cheri-translates]

[CN] S2 Gavin and MC in Chapter 2 - Part Three

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for Season 2🍒

Be sure to read Part 1 and Part 2 first!

With the help of STF, the iron shutters are open and they escape

After getting simple bandages, Gavin continues with work

Eli tells Gavin to rest for a few days but of course he doesn’t lol

Gavin: I’ll send you back.

MC: The patient should go lie down.

Gavin: The doctor in the team said that I can continue with my normal activities.

MC: Considering the way you were glaring at him, would he dare to say no?

I recollect the scene just now when Gavin was being bandaged, and how he had glared at the doctor, and also glared at me.

[ flashback ]

Doctor: ...this wound needs to recuperate for at least...

Gavin: I should be able to continue with my activities.

Doctor: But you...

Gavin: Can begin with my activities.

Doctor: At the very least, you can’t engage in any strenuous activities...

Gavin: I’ll take note.

In the end, the doctor releases a heavy sigh, stamping his feet and leaving.

[ end of flashback ]

Gavin seems to be very concerned that his negligence would result in me getting dragged into danger, so he insists on sending me back.

I can’t win against him, so I trail behind him. Tang Chao looks at us from the side with a half-smile, walking us to the entrance of STF.

-

There’s a crowd outside consisting of media personnel and citizens

The reporters bombard her with questions on whether her company has been circulating the drugs, while citizens outrightly accuse her

Someone even calls her a murderer

Eggs get thrown at her, but a wall of wind causes the eggs to hover mid-air before they crack... on Tang Chao LOL

Tang Chao: Captain Gavin, this is a little too much.

I almost fail to suppress my laughter.

Gavin and I exchange a glance. I give him a light nod. He furrows his brows but doesn’t stop me. However, the wall of wind continues remaining in front of me subtly.

I stand before the crowd, straighten my shoulders, then bow deeply.

MC: Hello everyone. I’m the person in charge of [MC’s Company Name]. My name is MC.

MC: I’m sorry that everyone has been troubled by the [MC’s Company Name] incident.

MC: But [MC’s Company Name] has never been involved in any prohibited drug circulation or distribution.

MC: The STF has verified that [MC’s Company Name] is not guilty.

MC: I’m just like all of you. From the bottom of my heart, I despise the existence of the prohibited drugs.

MC: The so-called “hope” they bring to too many people only results in pain.

MC: As a person in charge of a media company, every job I take up, and every image I capture...

MC: Can present the reality of this world. I want to capture every trivial, normal “hope” in life.

MC: It could be a cup of coffee, a word of greeting, a hug.

MC: I think real hope has no relations to whether one has “Evol”.

MC: If there is an answer to this question of “Evol” in the future, I think it’s definitely unrelated to the drugs.

MC: It’s completely unrelated to anyone who snatches, poisons, forces, and lies in order to get them.

MC: That’s all I wish to say. Thank you.

I bow deeply again. When I lift my head, my shoulders remain straightened. Gavin stands by my side.

Gavin: Let’s go.

-

As we walk along the small road and the night breeze, I deliberately slow my pace, worrying about Gavin’s wound.

MC: I didn’t stutter just now, right?

Gavin: You didn’t. You spoke very well just now.

MC: That’s good.

The gentle moonlight illuminates the path home. The world is tranquil, and it makes it difficult to believe that we just stepped out of imminent peril.

Gavin’s phone suddenly rings. After answering it, he responds with a few short sounds of agreement.

It’s a pretty long phone call, so I take a few steps to the side, lowering my head and staring at the tips of my shoes.

Gavin: All right, I’ve got it.

He hangs up. Seeing me standing a few metres away, he smiles.

Light refracts into his amber coloured eyes, sparkling and flickering.

Gavin: What are you doing so far away?

MC: I was worried you might think I’m eavesdropping.

Gavin: If I didn’t want you to know, I wouldn’t have answered it in front of you.

MC: Really?

I scamper over to Gavin, looking at him expectantly. 

Gavin: You’re that happy?

MC: Just a little bit more than my usual happiness.

He releases a soft sigh, walking towards the direction of my home.

Gavin: The results of the drugs are out. To Evolvers, the drug does cause a segment of them to have heightened abilities, and its results vary depending on the individual. But after a certain period of time, it’d damage the structure of one’s genes, and become like a virus, spreading to other organs. At the end, it results in death.

As for humans, the “Small Syringes” don’t seem to stimulate Evol, though taking a large quantity may result in a small chance of Evol awakening - 0.0002%

But the confirmed results are still subject to research

MC mulls over what Gavin said, and thinks that perhaps many people are wiling to risk their lives for that 0.0002%

She doesn’t blame them though. The person she’s angry with is the person behind the prohibited medicine

MC: Gavin, if you had a choice, would you want to have Evol?

Just like in my memory, Gavin doesn’t hesitate. He nods.

Gavin: I would. because I have someone I want to protect.

-

The path home is much shorter than I imagined. Without realising it, we’ve already reached the first floor of the building.

MC: You have to walk slowly on your way back.

Gavin: I know.

MC: ...don’t force yourself to use your abilities.

Gavin smiles. Just as he plans to turn around, he suddenly pauses.

Gavin: MC, erm, do you know about the secret experiment by Black Swan 17 years ago?

I freeze, an image of how Gavin looked back then flashing across my mind.

MC: Are you referring to that experiment in the orphanage?

Gavin nods, then shakes his head. He doesn’t speak. For a moment, I have no idea what I should say.

MC: ...is this the reason why you’re back in Loveland City?

Gavin: There is a very important investigation here. But to me, what’s more important is that it’s a verification.

MC: Verification?

Gavin’s smile gradually fades. The dim lights from the streetlamp are on his face, casting his expression into darkness and gloom.

Gavin: Don’t think about it too much. Rest early. If you really get arrested by STF next time, you won’t be let off so easily again.

After saying this, he gives me a wave, then turns around, walking into the night.

I release a soft sigh, standing in place as I watch his receding back get swallowed by the moonlight.

-

💙 MOMENTS 💙

Gavin’s Post: For the photoshoot this time, why did the collaborative partner give a carton of water as a present? 

MC: It’s to wish everyone a healthy life of course~

Gavin: That’s actually very practical. 

-

Gavin’s Post: For the photoshoot this time, why did the collaborative partner give a carton of water as a present?

MC: In that case, may I ask this fortunate collaborative partner what present he wants?

Gavin: Nothing much. The current gift isn’t bad.

-

Gavin’s Post: For the photoshoot this time, why did the collaborative partner give a carton of water as a present?

MC: You could also get an exchangeable ticket for a serving of home-cooked stewed dishes.

Gavin: That sounds a little better. How do I make the exchange?

-

Phone call: here

[incarnateirony]

after jared has now confirmed on that podcast that the last scene of the show will just be sam + dean, i hope everyone can stop speculating about cas being there. he is not. (that of course doesnt mean hes not in the ep at all)

For those who WANT to actually listen, you can see it here (https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/jared-padalecki-returns/id1256754097)

While I intend to talk on this statement left by the Nonnie there's a few other things to talk about. For those specifically interested in THIS QUOTE, it’s part “Ten” in my notes.

Before I go on, lemme say, I keep saying Misha *isn’t* in the final *shot.* I can also say *ten thousand times* that “the final shot” is NOT THE SAME THING AS THE “FINAL SCENE.” I don’t know how many times I have to beat this into people’s heads. The “Final scene” may not even BE the final shot because for all you know, the last final scene is something like around scene 50 and the last 10 shots are some Swan Song montage with a dialogue. Scenes are also composed of *multiple shots* on the regular, and *very rarely* shot in order. So actually, it depends on what you even consider a ~scene~ but a shot and a scene are not the same thing. No matter how many times people choose to misunderstand this, this will continue to be true. 

As it is, the board already going up to 47 was high. Not unheard of, but high. I absolutely do not think anybody should be surprised if that’s actually closer to the last 5 minutes of the episode and the next 10+ shots are literal full blown montage. Because once again, and I can not emphasize this enough, they are not teleporting to a bridge at the end of the fucking show. I repeat, they are not, in the last 20-40 seconds, teleporting to a bridge at the end of the fucking show. And they weren’t on that location any other day. 

But I also know this fandom takes anything that’s in shorthand and blows it up into the worst case extremization, so I’m actually going to address this and even tag @curioussubjects and @winchestersingerautorepair and point out that Jared talks about “the last time Sam and Dean see each other” -- so enjoy that. See you on the other side, brother.

Okay so first, as a general note related to everything, that particular podcast is a mess. There is literally 17 minutes of nothing related to Jared at the start. It's a mix of sadness about how he knew a relative was dying, sadness, people's sad facebook messages which I get, losing someone is sad--but then a bunch of nonsense about ads and swag and sponsors. Like to anyone preparing to actually listen, you can skip to about 17 minutes in.

One: Confirmed they started quarantining (J2 at least) on Aug 2. 14 days gave them a few days before filming. But they refused to break quarantine even to walk the dogs to not reset the quarantine period. (This is one of the first things they talk about after the barrage of ads and other things)

Two: Jared has some great insight on how and why to let a dog go. He jumped it a little sooner than I would I think, but he talks about knowing when they're in pain or suffering. He gave assistance to her bad hips and other things through late life but saw when the spark left her and she wanted to go. Someone will probably try to problematize this but as someone that witnessed someone refusing to put down their dog while she spent half of her day having seizures and shitting herself, huffing, being terrified and unable to move, that was impressive. (This starts somewhere around 22 and goes to about 31:30, it's about a ten minute segment.)

Three: after this they actually go into the show, it also lets us know that the podcast is *recorded early on in filming*. It's talking about the first few days he left for filming. This wasn't just-now recorded. This is a few weeks old, like most Inside of You podcasts are.

Four: Jared ignores social media a lot, he confirms.

Five: He goes on having to talk about saying goodbye to a 15 year friend, never having gone more than 5 months without playing Sam, the process of being in the moment. It boils down to staying distanced from social media and your phone to be in the internet, which can actually add to feeling alone. (This may not be true for everyone, but I can definitely see why it feels so for Jared--he admits it's somewhat escapism.) Rosenbaum debates what counts as connection, but Rosenbaum also doesn't deal with a bajillion shitty comments from all his fandom lanes. He uses the podcast as an example, which is entirely different than Jared talking about ignoring twitter or instagram.

(Commercial break at 39 for a counseling/therapy service, runs to about 41 then one for a toothbrush rofl goes to about 43:15, so basically a 4 minute commercial break)

Six: Jared talks about his clinical anxiety impact on the final shooting and everything and why it was so important to have his dog with him during quarantine. He started terrified about it but got 4-5 days in and realized it was great. The wife and kids even considered going with him but he said it was okay and declined. After 45 he goes on complimenting his wife and the work she does at home.

Seven: He goes back to March 12 being the last day of filming back before covid and everyone had to run home on Friday the 13th of March LOL. So Supernatural got cursed on Friday the 13th. Rolling back to everything Gen has to do with the kids and the routine, goes back to talking about her. Talks about being the New Toy from dad being home so much. But then back to August first day of shot as an outdoor shoot. How early it was. So 21pt1 was an outdoor shoot. They continue to go on and on about how hard having kids is, if rewarding, until after 50 minutes. This converts into a conversation with his psychiatrist about his kids, his mom's birthday during social distancing, and all kinds of other commentary. Difference of psychologist vs psychiatrist. Loves sugar cuz he couldn't have it as a kid, etc.

Eight: This bit carries them all the way out past the hour mark. Just before the hour is where the "pain" section from the promo comes from. It turns into mortality and fear of death. Turns into stuff like natural childbirth. So from an hour to 1:03:00 it goes on, then it turns into another ad break that goes to about 1:07:15

Nine: How emotional the ending is, reading the script every day, remembering places start after the 1:07:15 commercial end. First week they shot up the old highway for example. Jared saying goodbye to locations he knows. Very bittersweet. There are no pickup shots because of covid.

Ten: The final scheduled moment, what you're talking about, and Jared tried very very VERY difficultly. (1:08:30 or so) -- he struggles and says "The last time Sam and Dean see each other is the last time Jared and Jensen see each other, if that makes any sense." He refused to say what the last scene was. It will be the last filming camera moments together. Which unto itself uh, hi, yes, welcome to every speculation I ever had, see you on the other side brother. Because it's the last time they see each other.

Eleven: After a bit about being emotional, they talk about Jared’s arrest, the trolling about orange jumpsuits from the crew, and asking what happened. Jared doesn’t even entirely know what happened, says it’s not an excuse, but the cliff’s notes are he was filming in Van, then he flew to Austin, he had a double date with Gen and two friends, he went to his friend’s bar (we alllll know Stereotype), they split some wine, a cocktail, hadn’t eaten, hadn’t slept, bachelorette parties and show fans bought him drinks, he doesn’t know what even happened, he thinks he was blacked out, got pulled down by his hair and thought he was in a fight. He hasn’t had a drink since, he was like absolutely fucking nope. He literally wonders if he was drugged in the drinks he took from other people, but either way, he’s completely stopped drinking. It goes into them settling and actually the people thinking he was drugged, which is why the legal followthrough was light.  This goes out to almost 1:20:00.

Twelve: Around then he goes on about Walker’s pickup period, how and when shooting normally works, and it’s all kinda in the air because of Walker, shortseasons because of covid etc. 

Final question blast:

Supernatural movie?: Jared hopes so

Channel chuck norris?: Make Walker his own, has nothing to do with Chuck’s walker even if he grew up watching it in texas, new character, new story, new era.

Paranormal experiences of his own?: He has seen some things, experienced some things he can’t explain, but as far as specifically, “definitively no but possibly yes.”

Talked with Chuck Norris at all?: Not talked to him directly, their “people” have talked, had to give his blessing though because Chuck Norris co-owned the rights. Part of the EP group and ownership.

If you had a chance, what superhero would you play: He’s heard Nighthawk from fans, he kinda sits there quietly thinking and has a hard time. Screentested for the Superman McG movie in 2004 but didn’t get it.

The car wasn’t in either of their contracts. Jared actually goes on that despite images Jared’s actually the car guy more than Jensen. It wasn’t in either of their contracts but they kinda just knew it was gonna happen. He goes on about his favorite cars, his car books and parts books since he was a kid, etc.

-----------

Following through on this, I HAVE to keep saying. 47/A47 is, I would bet 5 dollars on it right here and anyone that wants to bet against it can leave a comment in the notes so I know who owes who money, Sam and Dean having their final talk already post major resolutions with a few more ends to tie up, saying their pre-goodbyes, and shot 60 is Sam and Dean’s final shot of going separate ways, with Sam on one side and Dean on the other. 

[ohmightydevviepuu]

For the fanfic asks - #5 and #16 please?

Which WIP is first on your list to complete this year? Will you post a snippet?

technically i don’t have any posted WIPs but i do have two other things that i’m currently writing.  i’ve already shared several snippets from one so i guess it is time to unveil a piece of the procedural i’ve been talking about.  for a year.  *gulp*

Emma Swan gripped the steering wheel of her ancient Beetle and prayed it wouldn’t skid in the rain.

She needed a new car.

The yellow Bug had six-digit mileage and a cloned VIN and a bad transmission but she refused to trade it in.  She couldn’t afford it, for starters.  She didn’t want to, for another.

Emma Swan was many things--not sentimental, exactly, but mindful, always (see also:  ‘guarded’, ‘prickly’, ‘broke’)--and the Beetle was a reminder.  On her better days it was a reminder of how far she’d come.  On her worst days it was a reminder of how far she still had to go.  And, really, she should start by getting a new goddamn car.

But, again, she was broke.

The engine light flashed and Emma swore.  She’d just had it in and Gus said it was fine, but people lied.  Often.

Always.

And Emma Swan could always tell.

That’s how she got paid.

Speaking of:  Her phone buzzed on the seat next to her and Emma swore again, because she was going to be late and Milah hated it when she was late.  Milah had rules.

Emma hadn’t grown up with too many rules.  That’s what happened when you got shipped from home to home.  Sometimes she’d had to be on time for dinner, sometimes no one cared.  Sometimes she had chores.  Sometimes she had to hide her stuff.  Sometimes she had to hide, in general.  

Even the basics--don’t lie, don’t steal--had gotten distilled down to don’t get caught.

(Emma hadn’t even been able to do that.)

But Milah had rules and she’d tried to instill them; some lost, long-dormant almost-motherly instinct coming to the surface twenty years too late, as if she wanted to be motherly and had just forgotten how.

It might be, literally, true.  Milah had a kid--and an ex--and neither of them was ever spoken of.  Ever.  Emma had done some digging over the years and came up empty every time, which meant that Milah had gone to great lengths to render herself untraceable.  Invisible.  Emma didn’t even know the age or gender of either the spouse or the kid.  It felt unfair when Milah knew everything about her and in the most embarrassing way possible.

Their relationship was not an easy one, but it was the only one Emma had.  That’s what happened when you were fresh out of prison and on the run at eighteen--it didn’t leave a lot of opportunities for family ties.  But thanks to Milah, Emma was good at her job.  Better than good--she was great.  

And she followed the rules.  Usually.

Big meeting tonight and Emma needed more than the money, she needed the exposure, the chance to make a good impression on a client who could keep her in Pop-Tarts and Netflix and fucking car parts for the foreseeable future.  

Regina Mills had made a fortune defending wealthy clients accused of serious crimes.   Every photograph, every second of her on newscast B-roll showed her in one of her trademark pantsuits:  simple, impeccably tailored, so expensive they made Emma’s wallet hurt just to think about them.  There was nothing masculine about her, though--exactly the opposite.  Regina Mills was not ashamed of her femininity.  She flaunted it.  It was part of her style and part of her strategy down to her blood-red lipstick and matching nail polish as her smile and demeanor went from charming to soothing to terrifying and back again all within a single question.

High-stakes, high-pay, high-profile, and she was the best in the game.  Like she snapped her fingers and poof, magic, her clients got off. 

But to do what she did, Regina needed people like Emma:  someone who would do the work, to find the truth--good, bad or ugly.  PI work wasn’t glamorous but Emma was good at it, and she enjoyed the challenges of cases like Regina’s in between skip-chasing for deadbeat dads or waiting for hours in the car on the money-shot of a cheating spouse.  Emma had, very slowly and very carefully, built up a record with Regina--thanks mostly to Milah, who kept her behind the scenes but was always happy to throw a little work Emma’s way.

Until today.

Do you have that one fanfic that you wrote a ton for, ages ago, but never posted? Will this be the year, come hell or high water, that it WILL get finished and posted?

i do, and the answer is a HARD NO.  deep in the recesses of my google drive i have about 30 chapters--and that’s just the “final” draft--of a pretty epic pretty solider sailor moon moon kingdom --> present day --> crystal tokyo fic.   (lol you have no idea what any of that means)  the reasons i will never post it are numerous but chief among them is that it is based too heavily off of other authors’ work--an amalgamation of a bunch of stories and ideas i loved that i played with putting into one story and one timeline and then extended.

the reason i keep it is simple:  i loved writing it.  it gave me joy in difficult times and places.  it gave me focus.  and i still occasionally harvest the pieces of it to incorporate into other things. 

let’s start 2021 with some fic asks, shall we??

[nerdypictures13]

My coming out story I guess

Okay so idk I just randomly got the urge to tell the “story” and I thought what better place than this hellsite lol. So about 7 years ago I realized that I liked women. Coincidentally that was also just after I had joined tumblr and been exposed to the world of fandom specifically the ouat fandom and swan queen. Finally little things about my life started to make sense and that was that for a while. I’m 19 now and I finally decided it was time to tell people, I’d told people before specifically my high school best friend who is also gay (unfortunately no longer my friend but that’s a story for another time) but other than that I hadn’t told anyone. It kind of happened by accident my decision to tell people it started with my best friend/ basically my sister/ favorite person ever. I was having a dilemma about a girl, I had invited her over to hang but she lived an hour away and ended up inviting herself to sleepover and I wasn’t quite ready for it yet but I didn’t know how to say no. So I called my bestie and told her about the girl but used gender neutral pronouns then she had to go so we continued to text and she asked me who the person was and I told her. She did probably the best thing I could of asked for, she just continued on with the conversation as if nothing had happened but made sure to tell me she loved me and that nothing would ever change between us and it hasn’t which is just about the greatest possible outcome. Once I told her it felt like a weight had been lifted off my chest so I knew I was gonna tell my parents and I started planning to tell them at thanksgiving. I then decided to tell my brother (who’s only 12) and he handled it amazingly he basically said “ok and?” Then he asked if I’d told out parents yet and when I said no he deleted the text evidence of our convo “just in case they look through my phone” he said. After such amazing reactions from some of the closest people in my life I decided I couldn’t wait to tell my parents. I FaceTimed my mom and dad and I told them then immediately hung up. My mom called me back and asked why I thought it was that big of a deal and she said she’d suspected for a while. My dad on the other hand was the one I was worried about (he was raised as a jehovas witness and has conflicting views sometimes even though he isn’t religious anymore) he didn’t say much that night and I knew he’d have to process it for a bit so I went about my business. Two days later he called me and gave me the whole spiel on how he’d prefer that I liked men and married a man and gays go to hell etc. I countered with a few bible verses and the fact that the Bible was mistranslated and then let him process that. We let it go for a while after that then fast forward to thanksgiving and we’re talking about how I turn 21 and he turns 50 in the same year so we should have a big party and he says that we should go to Vegas. I told him that I wasn’t a big fan of gambling and he said that we didn’t have to go gambling but that we should go to the strip club and while I looked confused he said “you know because you like girls it’ll be fun” and in my dads way that was him telling me that he accepts me and that he’d worked through everything he needs to work through. Now I know that might not seem like much to everyone (if anyone actually read this whole thing) but to me it was amazing and it felt like that final weight I had on me was lifted. Again, I didn’t really have a point to sharing this story but it felt good to do it. If you read this whole thing thank you so much!

[lapushandforks]

Paul Lahote New Story?!?!?!

Enjoy the intro :) As always *I don’t own any Twilight names or ideas, all goes to the amazing creators* warnings: laungae as I tend to swear and triggers as mention of ra*e (not detetailed just the word but wanted to throw a warning just in case!)

I will be updated this on WattPad as well becayse why not lol 

“Charlie?” I answered my phone confused. Why would Bellas dad be calling me in December?“Hey Madison, I know this is out of the blue, but Bells needs a friend, can you fly up here to see her for a few weeks? It would mean a lot to us, I can buy the ticket, I asked your parents and they would love for you to see her.” “Oh, Charlie of course! I miss her, and you! When can I come?”2 weeks later I hugging my parents goodbye at the airport, excited to see my best friend. Its been almost a whole year since she moved, we used to talk a lot, but after her birthday we talked less and less, until one day it stopped. I just figured she met more friends, and that boy she mentioned, and got busy. But Charlie’s voice had me worried, so it was my job to spend the next month cheering her up. After a long flight and drive, I arrived at the Swan residence, I visited one summer with Bella so she wasn’t so alone, but that was years ago. Charlie was also like a second dad to me, but the complete opposite of my own father. Charlie was very quiet and reserved, not much for words, just like Bella. I walked in the front door to see Bella sitting on the living room floor, staring at nothing, in a daze. “Bells, Maddies here.” Charlie declared, Bella not even moving she mummed what sounded like a hi.“Come on Maddie lets take your bags upstairs then we can go get dinner.” I followed Charlie upstairs and the second we were out of earshot, I asked in a whisper.“What happened to her?” I mean sure Bella was always quiet but not like this.“That Cullen kid left her and she’s been a wreck, barely eats, has nightmares, that’s why I thought she needed you, she won’t come to me about anything, shes blocked out all her friends and just walks around like a zombie, I’m getting worried. I thought of taking her back to Reene, but I don’t wanna see her go.” It was the most Charlie has ever spoken, and I realized how bad it was. “Don’t worry, she’ll be back to old Bells soon.” I smiled as we went down the stairs.“So Bella I didn’t come to the freezing cold northwest for nothing, so what’s good around here?” I said sitting next to her laying my head on her. She said nothing but laid her head on mine, a small step I assume to Charlie because he looked surprised she moved.After sitting in the living room for a while I was getting hungry. “So do you still cook or has Charlie finally learned some knife skills?” I joked. Bella slightly smiled as she got up.“No, I still cook for him.” She started to cook up dinner as I sat in the kitchen rambling on about Phenix and our old lives, getting some smiles or one word from Bella. Charlie came in and looked amazed at Bella, and gave me a squeeze on the shoulder. Of course, I could turn Bella back, I am her best friend. A few days passed with walks, meals, sitting and reading, but still this empty Bella in front of me. “What about a movie? This town has to have a movie theater?”Bella chuckled at this, “try 30 minutes away.”“Perfect!! Let’s go!” I pleaded with my eyes.She sat for a moment, looked at Charlie, who was eyeing her and she sighed, “Okay girls day. Do you care if I invite friends from school?”“The more the merrier” I smiled at her, wrapping myself in a half hug knowing I won this battle. The day of the movie came and Bella had invited one friend, Jessica, who was just as outgoing as me but kept making side marks about people as we left the movie, Bella didn’t say anything until we came to an ally where some men started to yell at us.“We got beer and bikes!” One yelled.Bella started to walk towards them when I looked.“Are you crazy!” Jessica and I yelled together. What the fucked was she thinking.A few moments passed and Bella was back, surprisingly in one piece.“What was that?!” I screamed at her.“I thought I knew one of them, wow what a rush.” She muttered.“Oh so you’re an adrenaline junkie now great, you can go bungee jumping! You don’t jump on the back of some losers motorcycle!”The ride home was silent, I didn’t say anything to Charlie, knowing it would make it worse for him. I waited until later that night when he was sleeping to ask.“What the hell Bella? You could have been kidnapped, killed, or rapped, do you not realize how much danger you were in? For what? A moment of a rush? What has gotten into you?” She stayed silent, not even an apology. I was beyond annoyed at her. I left home, my friend, my boyfriend, my family, everything to help her and she wasn’t even going to try for me. I got up and went downstairs to call my mom.“Mom? Hey I know its late, I need to come home.”“Honey, is everything okay?”“No, Bella is crazy, I can’t help her.”“Oh, honey.”“I’ll talk to Charlie in the morning, I’ll be home soon, I love you.”The next morning, I got up early, before Bella and sat down with Charlie.“Charlie, Bella needs some serious help, I can’t help her. I’m sorry.” The tears were coming, I wanted to help her, she was my best friend, but last night, I saw how far gone she was. I couldn’t bring her back, she didn’t want to come back.“Hey kiddo, it’s okay, she was better than when you got here, and that’s something, maybe you can come back for Spring Break? Who needs a sunny spring break anyways?” He hugged me as I cried harder, I didn’t want to promise him anything, I didn’t want to come back to this Bella.“Maddie?” I heard Bella say.“Yeah?” I whipped my tears as I turned to face her.“I’m sorry.”The next morning I was hugging Bella and Charlie goodbye as I boarded my flight home. I told Bella to call me if she needed anything, anything at all I would pick up. I was scared to leave her, but she didn’t want help, I couldn’t be there to watch her hurt herself. I boarded the plane and set home.

Part 2 coming tonight! :)

Check out WattPad: https://www.wattpad.com/975651507-a-push-in-the-right-direction-intro

[honeypiehotchner]

Trust -- part thirty-five

It’s been a moment, hello! My mood took one of worse turns it has in a while the past couple weeks, but I think I’m back on track now (go to therapy, kids).

Also! I move into college in three weeks, and I won’t have as much free time. My goal is to finish this story before I move, though, so this is your warning that the end is near. Love you guys xx.

(Listen I don’t really like this part and idk if it’s my brain still in the weird mood or if it genuinely does suck, so be gentle lol)

“Sherlock,” you call, tucking your legs underneath you on the sofa.

           “Hm.”

           “When was the last time you went out?”

           He gives his violin a strange look – he’s tuning it before he plays – but you know that look was meant for you if he wasn’t preoccupied. “What do you mean?”

           “A case,” you clarify for him. “When was the last time you and John went out on a case together?”

           “We just did a case last week.”

           “No, that wasn’t a case, that was a small outing and you solved it in five minutes,” you reply tiredly. “I mean an actual case.”

           “Oh,” he hums, lifting his violin to his chin. “I don’t know.”

           “I thought you didn’t like not knowing.”

           A glare is the next expression sent your way as he picks up his bow and begins to play. He’s been working on a waltz for John and Mary. He’s told them (promised, more like) he’ll play it for their first dance at the wedding, which, again you try not to think about the dreams you had. But it’s incredibly hard when life is appearing to imitate them in the smallest of ways.

           “I’m just saying,” you speak over his playing. “I think it’d be good if the two of you got out and did a case together.”

           The violin falls from his neck as he gives you a pointed stare. “What’s wrong?”

           “Nothing’s wrong,” you chuckle. “I just don’t want to be the reason you’re stuck in this flat for the rest of your life.”

           “You’re not,” he replies firmly, lifting his instrument once more. “If I wanted to leave, I would. My brother’s security won’t be reason to stop me.”

           “I know that,” you breathe. “Speaking of, if you were to go out, I’m sure Mycroft would send an extra guard. Or I could ask Mary to come over. Speaking of Mary, what time did they say they were coming over?”

           “Noon,” comes Sherlock’s short reply.

           It’s barely ten now. This is one of the rare mornings where you and Sherlock are actually awake in the morning.

           “Well,” you heave out a sigh, standing to your feet. “I’m going to get dressed. Try not to make the waltz minor. I can hear it drifting that way.”

           You’re not trying to annoy Sherlock necessarily, but you’d be lying if you said you aren’t trying to push his buttons a little more.

           He’s been cooped up in this flat with you for two weeks now. Yes, you’ve gone out occasionally, but after one instance of cameras swarming the two of you in a café, you’ve kept the outings to a bare minimum. The “case” last week was less hectic, you’re assuming because reporters didn’t want Lestrade arresting them, but it was short lived.

           You’ve both become somewhat of a celebrity couple since returning from the hospital. It became known that Sherlock and his girlfriend – that’s you, even though, again, you and Sherlock still haven’t discussed labels – investigated and brought down a religious cult right here in London.

           The case alone was intriguing enough for people to praise Sherlock, but throw in the fact that this seemingly emotionless human being has a romantic partner? Everyone is all over that now, and it hasn’t died down like John had hoped.

           Which is why Mycroft still has security stationed at the bottom of the stairs, and eyes all on Baker Street at all times. You’re – meaning you and Sherlock – are no longer allowed to take cabs. Mycroft has a driver – his name is Ed, he’s nice – for the both of you and that is how you are supposed to get around. You think the only reason Sherlock doesn’t protest is because he knows how much of a concern your safety is – especially to him.

           But still. You and Mary have been talking. Even John is a little antsy. The wedding planning is in the final stages, and the last thing really to tackle is seating and fitting for the bridesmaid dresses. Mary has her wedding dress, John has his tux, as does Sherlock, but the bridesmaids – you included as Maid of Honor – don’t. You’ve got the color, at least.

           The point is, you and Mary have seen that both of your boys need to go out and work a case together. Just to get them out. And to give you two some girl time, but that’s irrelevant. You need to get them out of the house again, like they used to do.

           And you’ve got a plan.

~~~

“Need to work on your half of the church, Mary. Looking a bit thin.”

           You roll your eyes at Sherlock’s statement as Mary answers him. “Ah, orphan’s lot. Friends, that’s all I have. Lots of friends.”

           You reach over and squeeze her hand gently, earning a small smile. Mary’s past has always been a sore subject, and one that isn’t brought up often – except by Sherlock, in moments like these.

           “We should have the organ music to begin at precisely 11:48—”

           “But the rehearsal’s not for another two weeks, just calm down.”

           “Calm? I am calm. I’m extremely calm.”

           “Sherlock, love,” you chime in, ignoring the way your brother’s eyebrows raise at your use of the word love. “I’ve never seen you more stressed. Just – take a deep breath.”

           “Let’s get back to the reception, come on,” Mary suggests, ushering him over.

           You nod your head, urging him to join her. You sit curled up in his chair with a book, planning to help Mary after Sherlock and John leave, but of course neither of them know they’re going to be leaving just yet.

           “John’s cousin, top table?”

           Sherlock scrunches his nose. “Hm. Hates you. Can’t even bear to think about you.”

           “Seriously?”

           “Second-class post. Cheap card. Bought at a petrol station. Look at the stamp. Three attempts at licking. She’s obviously unconsciously retaining saliva.”

           “Aw, let’s stick her by the bogs.”

           “Oh yes.”

           You watch at Mary discreetly looks over her should, clearing her throat before asking, “Who else hates me?”

           And of course, Sherlock being Sherlock, he hands her a list.

           “Oh great, thanks.”

           You snicker at Mary’s way of dealing with family troubles, not that John cares either way. He’s been scrolling through his phone the entire time.

           “‘Priceless painting nicked.’ Looks interesting.”

           “Table four?” Mary continues.

           “Done,” Sherlock replies quickly.

           John chuckles. “‘My husband is three people.’”

           “Table five?”

           “Major James Sholto. Who he?”

           “Oh, John’s old commanding officer. I don’t think he’s coming.”

           Your ears perk up at the mention of him. You’ve always known John was in the military, but he never talks about it all that much. And he’s especially never mentioned an old commanding officer before.

           “He’ll be there,” John speaks up, so he’s clearly listening.

           “Well, he needs to RSVP, then,” Mary counters.

           “He’ll be there,” John assures her once more, still gazing at his phone.

           Sherlock looks about as confused as you feel. He’s clearly curious about this and you’re almost certain you’ll find him Googling Major Sholto later.

           “‘My husband is three people.’ It’s interesting.”

           You give John a strange look.

           “Says he has three distinct patterns of moles on his skin.”

           “Identical triplets. One in half a million births. Solved it without leaving the flat,” Sherlock speaks quickly as he suddenly stands and floats (as you like to say) down to the floor. “Now, serviettes. Swan or Sydney Opera House?”

           “Where’d you learn to do that?” Mary’s excitement and surprise is clearly written all over her face as Sherlock proudly displays the napkins. You even crane your neck to see.

           “Many unexpected skills required in the field of criminal investigation—”

           “Fibbing, love,” you call out, shaking your head.

           He sighs. “I once broke an alibi by demonstrating the exact severity of…”

           “We’re not John, we can tell when you’re fibbing,” Mary interrupts.

           “Okay, I learnt it on YouTube.”

           You snicker. “That’s more like it.”

           “Opera House, please,” Mary chooses, satisfied that she got the truth. “Oh, hang on, I’m buzzing.”

           Your eyebrows raise slightly. That’s the first code phrase.

           “Oh, hi, Beth!”

           And there’s the other.

           You close your book, standing and following Mary into the kitchen. Sherlock is too busy folding serviettes to notice you’ve gone, and you smack John lightly on the shoulder as you pass.

           “Yeah, yeah, I don’t see why not,” Mary continues the act.

           You stand over by the kettle, actually putting it on because you would like some tea, which gives you a plausible excuse for being in here.

           “Actually, if that’s Beth, it’s probably for me, too. Hang on.”

           John walks into the kitchen a second later, giving both you and Mary a tired look.

           “He knows we don’t have a friend called Beth. He’s gonna figure out that it’s code.”

           “He’s YouTubing serviettes,” Mary hisses.

           “He’s thorough.”

           “He’s terrified!”

           “Of course he’s not.”

           “He is,” you mutter from the kettle, looking up to John. “He is.”

           “Right, you know when you’re scared of something, you start wishing it sooner just to get it all going? That’s what he’s doing.”

           “Why would he be scared that we’re getting married?”

           You leave the couple to continue bickering, part of you wanting a small private moment with Sherlock while they’re occupied.

           You walk over to Sherlock where he’s quickly folding, and you make him pause, your hand smoothing over his shoulder. He turns his head to look up at you, his free hand bringing your knuckles to his lips.

           “Would you fold me a swan?” You ask.

           “Of course,” comes his reply, and you didn’t exactly mean for him to fold it for you right then, but he does, and a few seconds later, he’s handing you a swan.

           “Thank you,” you chuckle. “I love it.” You carry it gingerly over to the mantle and place it next to where he’s got something stabbed onto the wood. “What is it now, love?” Upon closer inspection you see it’s a note. “Another one?” You ask.

           Sherlock barely nods and hums.

           You sigh. “And how long has this one been up here?”

           “Two days.”

           “Where did you get it?”

           “Homeless network.”

           “Someone in your homeless network handed you a note with ‘I O U’ written on it? Are you joking?”

           “No,” Sherlock replies. “But Mycroft has them now.”

           “So, your brother knew, too,” you mutter. “Lovely.”

           “Don’t be cross. It’s only out of—”

           “Sherlock Holmes,” you turn around to glare at him. “If you tell me you’re trying to protect me, I’m going to throw you out that window.”

           He smirks as he stands, ushering you to come over to him, which you do. He’s like a damn magnet, this man.

           “No need to throw me out the window,” he murmurs, tilting your head back to look in his eyes. “I only didn’t want you to worry.”

           “You realize to me it seems like you’re keeping things from me.”

           “I apologize.”

           “Hm,” You fight back a smile. “Not good enough.”

           He hears what you’re implying, so he leans down, pressing his lips to yours. “Better?”

           You nod. “Better. One more.”

           He grants your wish, pressing a kiss to your lips once again, pulling your body up against his in a way that would promise something more if John and Mary weren’t in the kitchen.

           But they are, so you pull away, grinning. “I forgive you.”

           “Seriously?”

           “No,” you shake your head. “But you are a good kisser.”

           He hums again, getting interrupted by Mary practically shoving John out of the kitchen. Your older brother stumbles into the room, giving you and Sherlock a weird – but not disgusted for the first time – look.

           “Uh, kettle’s just boiled.”

           You nod. “I’ll go help Mary with the tea.”

           Leaving Sherlock and John in the living area, you disappear into the kitchen to help Mary with tea. When you round the corner, she’s sitting at the table, sipping tea and looking through a newspaper.

           “They’re talking,” you whisper. “Fingers crossed.”

           After a few minutes, Mary taps you on the arm. Time to see if they ever decided on anything.

           You wrap your hands around the warm mug, raising your eyebrows expectantly as Sherlock and John fumble through an explanation on where they’re heading.

           “Why don’t you go with socks?” You ask.

           “You’ve gotta get the right ones,” Mary adds, earning a serious nod from both men. “It’ll take a while, right?”

           “Yeah, my coat…”

           “In there,” you nod. You flash Sherlock a smile that he returns. “Have fun.”

           “Text me if you need me.”

           “Mary is going to be here with me, Sherlock. Go out and have fun. And don’t come back for a while. We need some girl time.”

           “Okay. The guard is just downstairs, and Mycroft—”

           “I know!” You laugh. “Now get out of here.”

           Sherlock and John disappear down the stairs for what seems like the first time in absolute ages. You and Mary let out of a shared sigh of relief as the front door closes.

           “Now,” Mary begins, giving you a look. “Now that he’s gone, I have to ask, how are you doing?”

           “I’m fine,” you reply, sipping your tea as you sit down on the couch. “Why do you ask?”

           “Well, with all this marriage talk, I just wondered how that head of yours was dealing,” she moves to sit next to you. “Have you mentioned it to him?”

           “No, God no,” you laugh. “We haven’t even talked about whether or not we’re ‘dating,’ which sounds ridiculous. The papers say I’m his girlfriend, but he and I haven’t even talked about it.”

           “I think it’s safe to say he is your boyfriend.”

           “It sounds so primary school when you say it like that,” you grimace.

           “Well the two of you act like you’re in primary school because you haven’t talked about it!”

           “Okay,” you give her a look. “I don’t mind that we haven’t talked about it.”

           “You don’t want clarity?”

           “Maybe?” You shrug. “And maybe when I do, I’ll ask him, but right now, I’m happy with where we are. I’m content just being with him.”

           “Alright,” she pats my leg. “I can tell he makes you happy. And I think John is coming around.”

           “I think so, too,” you smile. “Or I hope he is, at least.”

           “No, I think he is,” Mary nods firmly. “I’ve talked with him about it and I think he sees how protective Sherlock is and he values that. John wants someone that’ll keep you safe. And Sherlock does.”

           “I feel safer than I ever have when I’m with him,” you admit quietly. “I felt safe with Tony, sure, but never like this.”

           “And that’s what I like to hear,” she smiles brightly. “Now, what’s for lunch?”

           You sigh. “I might be able to convince the guard to let us out.”

           She grins, a bit mischievously. “Let’s do it.”

[leotanaka]

call the midwife season 1, episode 4: liveblog and thoughts

was there a phone booth on early corner? or did people have to run/walk for ages to get to one? because if that was the case, it must have been nerve wracking. especially if there was someone in trouble and you had to leave them for an unprecedented amount of time in order to get help.

“During my years in the East End, I cycled through sunny streets. Mothers were safely delivered of their babies 'and the whole world seemed to shine. It was easy to forget the sparks of darkness in the diamond, 'the shadows in the corners of the brightest day.”

what is that kid dressed as? 

chummy ruining trixie’s eavesdropping on jenny lol

i’m guessing that magaret and her husband used to live, probably somewhere posh and upper class. she just doesn’t look like she belongs here. 

chummy and the constable, whose name i can’t remember are absolutely adorable together :) 

OMG! MARGARET! 

she lost the baby :( wait, doesn’t have long? does that mean she’s dying? 

following this right til the end... it is going to be incredibly distressing for cynthia

“he was the perfect gentleman.” “damn! how disappointing.” 

i love that trixie has been waiting for all the juicy details and all she gets is the mundane facts that noakes and chummy talked about. 

trixie always wears black and is looks great on her :) 

“i’m not miserable. i’m tired.” 

this whole thing with margaret is definitely getting to cynthia.

i really feel for sister bernadette - she would clearly love to be out there with them but can’t. 

cynthia is blaming herself... that would definitely explain why she doesn’t seem herself but this isn’t her fault. this could have happened, even if she had seen margaret. 

“You have to be brave to be in love, don't you? I mean, knowing your heart may get broken at some point along the way.”

why would you leave the baby outside? is this what they used to do back then? 

getting emotionally involved like this really isn’t healthy.

poor shirley :( it must be so hard - not only losing your child but having so many people assume that you were responsible for it.

...i know that voice!

either mr jones doesn’t understand what is happening or he’s in denial about it. 

“some people... need permission to die from those they love the most.” 

MARY!!!!

i don’t like seeing trixie and cynthia at odds with each other :( 

“I didn't realise how much my mum loved me till I was a mum. It's the kind of love that only goes one way. Forward.”

“i stepped through a door into the past. there were ghosts in these shadows. the ghost of an encounter where love had tried and failed.”

oh, mary... that’s not kathleen. isn’t this what jenny said would happen? that losing kathleen would destroy her and it seems like it has but she can’t take someone elses child, put them through what she went through in order to get through this. she needs proper help. 

asking those parents to help mary get away with taking their child is... it really is asking a lot of them after what she put them through, even if it is understandable. 

shirley is going to help mary :) 

“For just as the swan's last song 'is the sweetest of its life, 'so loss is made endurable by love 'and it is love that will echo through eternity.”

[lifeinahole27]

CS ff: “Love So Sweetly” (Part 2 of 2) (au)

Summary: If you ask either of them, they’ll both claim it isn’t their fault. It starts with feuding musicians, a pair of handcuffs, and the evolution a relationship can go through over the course of 24 hours.

Rating: M

Warnings: handcuffs?

A/N: My goodness. It’s finally finished. AND I had to bump the rating back DOWN for once. WTF is that?! Lol. Sorry all. This is a first in my book, too. Much love to all the usual players for their help, especially @phiralovesloki and @captainstudmuffin for their phenomenal beta and proofreading duties. And to the Discord ladies for putting up with the fact that I only pop in ever three days to randomly yell something and promptly fall asleep. Special side dedication goes to @let-it-raines for the most recent time I ran in and screamed something in there. LOL. All right - without further ado... I hope you all enjoy this!

Find it on Ao3 or FFN!

-x-

Trying to sprint after a hint of Granny was maybe not his brightest idea. Now he’s even more exhausted than he was before, and he can feel Emma dragging along beside him as they turn another corner to find it barren of all humanity.

It’s only then that he becomes aware of how quiet it’s gotten. This late at night, all of the stages are shut down and even the dance parties that sometimes happen after hours seem to be missing tonight, probably due to the lurking clouds in the distance. They’re deep in the campgrounds, and he can hear music drifting from some of the different tents and yurts, various styles and levels of skill, but gentle music surrounds them.  

“Killian, we have to stop. I’m too tired. We’ll find her in the morning. Let’s just… head out.”

“Aye, love. Sorry we lost her again,” he grumbles, wanting nothing more than to sleep for days after the evening they’ve had.

“God, and all I have to look forward to after all of this is to figure out how we’ll both fit on my stupid bunk!” Emma grouses as they slowly wander through the campgrounds.

He blames the fact that the tent they’re passing has some spirited amorous activities going on it in for why it takes him so long to connect what she’s just said with their current predicament.

“You only have a bunk?” he asks with the rise of an eyebrow. He’d just assumed she was up in the swankier trailers on the top of the hill – it’s where all the other headliners seem to have congregated for the duration of the festival.

“Yeah,” she says distractedly, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. Her eyes shift over to the tent he’s been trying to avoid and her eyebrows go clear up to her hairline when she looks back at him. There’s a hint of a smile hiding in the corners of her mouth but she says nothing.

“On a bus?” he asks, trying to distract them both from a fireworks-worthy ending as they pass the lovers.

“Yeah,” she repeats a little harsher this time, and Killian suppresses the chuckle that comes unbidden. Her tone speaks of something more than frustration at the conversation, and while there’s a temptation to prod and see what responses he could elicit, he chooses the higher road. Well, sort of.

“Oh, love, for once I finally get the upper hand with you. Turn to your left up here. We’ll go find my humble abode.”

“Killian, I’m not sleeping on a pile of rocks in some flimsy tent.”

“Where on earth would you get the notion I was sleeping in a tent? Those things are bloody miserable. Unless you’re those people, of course.” He hitches his thumb at the tent that’s now almost out of view and he smiles.

“I just – “

“Assumed that’s where I would be staying with my much smaller named band?” He cuts in, more amused than offended, and takes charge in leading them away from the truly muddy path to the less-trodden grass around them. With a few searches for landmarks and a couple more turns, he gestures in front of them to the small yurt he’s rented out. “Behold! My pirate’s lair!”

“You take this pirate crap way too seriously, for one. Also, it’s not the exterior that counts, Jones. You said it yourself. I want to see the inside of this before I pass judgement.”

With a smug grin and a lift of his eyebrows, Killian unlocks the door and pushes it open, finding the switch for the lamp next to the door to bathe the area in a soft glow. Emma whimpers at the sight, clearly seeing their sleeping arrangements for the evening as acceptable.

“Bed,” she whispers, following automatically as Killian pulls her in the rest of the way and shuts the doors behind them. From outside, the soft sounds of rain begin, and Killian is thankful they didn’t have to do another soggy dash to safety this time.

He secures the latch from the inside and goes to move towards the bed, only to realize they’re still fully clothed. With one tap of his boot to hers, Emma snaps out of it and struggles to unstick the zippers from the mud that’s begun to cake them. Killian kicks off his own before holding her steady as she balances to pry each one of hers off in turn.

Funny, when he had originally decided to full-on rent a yurt, it was for the idea of bringing back a lady friend for a night or two. He had no idea this was going to be the end result.

There’s a hidden intimacy in the delicate dance they do in the doorway, trying to ready themselves for sleep when they are both so far outside their comfort zones. He imagines, suddenly, the context being different as she brushes an errant strand of hair off her face and waits for him to grab the lamp from its hook and lead her over.

He looks disparagingly down at the both of them, but reasons with himself that the bedding is all old stuff specifically brought along in case it gets dirty, so it doesn’t exactly matter. What matters is that there’s an inexpensive mattress and pillows and they’re finally about to relax for the first time since either of them woke up yesterday morning.

“Phone,” he says, holding out his free hand to her. When she doesn’t automatically do anything, Killian smiles patiently. “I have a power pack that’s fully charged. And I have any type of cord you need. Surely after a day of running around, you’ll need a charge, yeah?”

She grumbles out some response, digging her phone out of a pocket on the side of her leggings and handing it over. They both shift to the side for a moment so he can plug in their phones and set down the lantern on the side he reasons he’ll be sleeping on.

They do another shuffle to get to where they’ll need to be in order to get into the bed before they both collapse onto the foot of the bed, pushing up and maneuvering until they’re under the covers. Side by side, they both exhale in relief as their heads hit the pillows. Emma, in a fit of wanting to be comfortable, insists on removing her leggings, and Killian endures the five-minute process of having his shoulder jolted until she’s happy.

The leggings get tossed off the side of the bed, and then he makes her go through the same thing as he pulls off his jeans. He could’ve withstood wearing them, but if she’s going to make herself at home, he’s going to do the same.

“Thanks,” Emma says quietly, after they’re both settled. “And I mean, for everything. Not just the bed. This could’ve been a disaster, but it hasn’t been the worst day I’ve ever had.”

“Same to you, love.” He pauses, taking the opportunity to roll on his side the best he can to look over at her. When she shifts as well, they both bring their hands up to tuck under their pillows. It leaves them practically nose to nose with the length of the chain.

“Your first festival, huh?

“Aye, and it was luck we got into this spot.”

“How long had you been trying?”

“This was the third attempt.  The only reason we got the invite is because another band double booked for the weekend and since they’d participated a few times in the past at this one, they decided to give up their invitation.”

“It took us four tries before we made it in, and that first year, Regina was here to see another band. Once she saw us, she signed us almost immediately and the band took off. I still can’t believe it sometimes.”

“You’re a hero, Swan. I’ve seen your fans. They adore you.”

“Yeah, well, so are you. I got to see that firsthand today.”

He has no response to that, other than a flustered shrug. It’s a risk to reveal too much – he knows this, and yet, he can’t stop himself from telling her more. “You know, I rather fancy you when you’re not yelling at me.”

“Yeah?”

He hums out affirmation, letting his eyes roam over her facial features and take in all the details he’s seen in pictures. There’s different flecks of colors in her eyes that the photos just can’t capture, and he watches the faint light dance there. Her laugh lines are peeking out with the way she’s barely smiling. Barely, but still…

“Good,” she says after a moment. It’s like permission and acceptance all at once. He watches her eyes start to flutter, her body finally succumbing to the length of their day. “Goodnight, Killian.” Her quiet sentiments drift through the space between them, and he’s overtaken again by the urge to kiss her. It would be so easy, but it would mean so much more than just one night at this point.

“Sweet dreams, Swan.”

With no further preamble, he finds the switch for the lantern and flips it. It doesn’t take her long to fall asleep, and Emma is a turbulent sleeper as he soon finds out. She ends up wrapped around him shortly after her breathing evens out. Her head rests near his shoulder, and he’s thankful for the still darkness surrounding them. Unable to sleep, the best he can do is hold his breath every time she shifts and twitches next to him.

As the night chills further, he’s thankful for Emma’s improvised pullover. Or step-into. It was quite the ridiculous process but she never seemed cold from that point forward, so he’s pretty sure it was a total success. Now, that same item is keeping him warm as the summer temperatures fluctuate to their low.

Finally, after what seems like hours, Killian’s body fully relaxes and he slips into sleep, unintentionally pulling Emma closer as they both flutter through their dreams. He’s surprised then, to be awoken shortly after that, after he’d already entered a dream where they held hands without being locked together.

It’s way too early when Emma shakes him awake, and the space around them is still dark in pre-dawn bliss.

“I’m sorry,” she says when he finally wrenches open his eyes. “I have to use the bathroom.”

She’s so close, her breath fanning across his neck when she speaks, and he feels the sleepy surge of want roll through him. Instead, he clears his throat and rubs at his eyes, trying to push away the image in his head of kissing her until they both forget about the calls of their bodies.

With a yawn, Killian waves away her apology and motions her to follow him out of the bed so he can grab a pair of track shorts to slip into. He’s shoving his feet into a pair of sneakers when he turns and sees Emma, one sock lost to the covers and her legs bare. The sweatshirt from the day prior falls just to her thighs, and he swallows hard as his eyes trail back up the length of her body to meet her eyes.

“Would you like, um, for the walk?” He holds up a pair of clean boxers from his stock, trying hard to stop from transfixing on her legs some more.

She shakes her head, seemingly unaware or totally uncaring of her half-dressed state as she rips the second sock from her right foot and slips back into her boots. It’s an utterly ridiculous outfit – boots up to her knees and sweater only, from appearances, but suddenly Killian has to go through chords in his mind as he wills his body to stay neutral to the woman beside him.

“Let’s go,” she says, waiting just long enough for him to secure the lock on the outside before they wander off in search of a better bathroom than the portaloo experiences they had yesterday. All of the trips were necessary but always very uncomfortable.

After a few turns, they can see the VIP section at the top of a hill, and Killian sighs in relief. This will have stalls, where they can both stand inside, even if that’s slightly more awkward. At least they’ll be clean, with running sinks. They start the trek upward, but it doesn’t take long before Killian’s shoe loses grip on the incline.

“Oh, son of a –“

“Hey, whoa!”

The moment his footing is gone, so is Emma’s, and the both of them slide back down on their hands and knees. They stay there for a moment, the shock and the exhaustion just weighing on them for a moment.

“Fuck,” Emma exhales.

It takes three more attempts for them to get up the hill, and it’s with no lack of attitude that Emma fishes her badge out from beneath the hoodie and swipes them into one of the trailers reserved for those with the clearance for them.

First comes rinsing off their hands to avoid getting mud in places they really wouldn’t want it, and then business, of course. He hums a medley of Beatles tunes to keep them both distracted from the situation. They switch spots when she’s done, and they hum together through the last of his turn. It’s as they’re washing all their collective hands when Emma realizes there’s a shower stall where he initially thought there was another accessible toilet. She nudges him, directing his gaze with a nod in that direction.

They hadn’t come up with a plan, not really, but this might be able to get them minimally less muddy before they get back to his accommodations. There’s also some splattered along the braid that Ruby twisted her hair into sometime after their set.  

“You can go first, if you’d like,” he tells her, motioning toward the potential of being clean.

She’s slowly picking at the safety pins holding the jumper on her shoulder, but something is holding her back. For once, their hands swing un-joined between them, but as she considers something, her pinkie finger reaches out and brushes against his.

“I mean,” she starts, her eyes focusing on anything but him. “It would be easier if we were in there together.” For a moment, he thinks that yeah, it would be easier if they got in there together. And her fingers slowly slide against his, her thumb brushing along his as she shifts a little closer.

When the words and their meaning finally sink through his sleep-addled brain, Killian snorts. “Why, Emma Swan, did you just proposition me to shower with you?” He tugs at their joined hands to bring her attention back to him, and there he finds several emotions flickering through her expression.

She wants; that much is plain to see just by looking. She’s uncertain, and he doesn’t blame her. It’s a bit of a risk to sleep with someone you’re undeniably stuck with, and sometimes a risk to sleep with someone you can immediately walk away from. What strikes him most is that her eyes reflect a level of passion he was not expecting. When she looked at him at the end of their set, she set his blood pumping harder than it had been from performing. Now to see it reflected back is quite the unexpected turn.

“If you don’t think you can handle it…”

“I’m pretty sure you’re the one that couldn’t handle it,” Killian counters, his eyebrow flicking up in challenge. This is it. This will be the moment that decides their course of action. Much like the anticipation during their disagreement, he waits for her next move.

And wait he does; Emma stands there immobile for what feels like hours before she yanks him down by the collar of his shirt and kisses him. She crowds him into the outer chamber of the shower, shoving the door shut behind them as she angles her head for a kiss deeper and stronger than the last.

He has kissed all sorts of women in his lifetime, but one thing is startlingly clear very quickly: Killian Jones has never kissed a woman like Emma Swan, and he could spend the rest of his life trying to recapture the way she feels and never again find it.

There’s heat and desire in the way she moves against him, and Killian will blame it on the sleep deprivation that he doesn’t consider the thousands of outcomes this moment might have. Instead, he’s intent on pulling the band from the end of Emma’s braid and slowly unwinding the thick plait with his free hand. Their joined arms are caught between their bodies, hands clasped tightly as they dive deeper into the kiss.

Removing clothing is quite the obstacle. They work together to unpin the sweater from her shoulder, leaving it hanging from one of the hooks in the small dressing space outside of the actual shower.. The stall itself is pristine, likely unused by any of the festival participants if the walls are still this sparkling white, so neither of them take much issue with kicking off their shoes and stepping into the vinyl area after removing as much as they can. His shirt, for instance, ends up balled up along the chain, along with the top she’s wearing. His now-muddy shorts end up with their shoes, water be damned.

It’s not everything – it could be but there’s some unspoken agreement between them that it’s just not feasible right now. They’re down to just underwear, but it doesn’t leave anything to the imagination as they both find each other under the steady-but-unimpressive spray of water falling down on them. He wants to look, but he’s more interested in the way Emma’s mouth fits against his, and the way the slick skin of her back feels beneath his palm.

Their shower is stilted, interrupted by intimate touches and wandering hands, as well as figuring out the logistics of how to hold their joined arms so the clothing they can’t get rid of doesn’t weigh them down. They do the best they can, though, and struggle to dry off with the towels provided. They wring out their shirts from where they still got wet, and Killian balls up his shorts with her sweatshirt to take back to the yurt. It’ll be cold outside but if they hustle, they’ll be warm again soon enough. With as much as necessary back in place, they push out into the predawn light hand in hand.

They carefully pick their way across the campgrounds to stay as close to clean as they can. As they walk, Emma hums a familiar tune, and Killian does his best to find the harmony as she continues. It speaks volumes more than anything they could say; he resists the urge to sing the lyrics as they fit the circumstances just a little too well.

My honey I know with the dawn that you will be gone. But tonight, you belong to me...

The sun is just barely cresting over the horizon, but that doesn’t dissuade them from shutting the door to the rented space, locking themselves away from the outside world for just a few hours more.

They may currently be chained together, but Killian genuinely has no idea where the next day will take them. This far in, this far deep, he knows he may walk away with a heartache if it all fell apart in the light of day.

-x-

While everything had remained dormant on their trip back to the yurt, Emma is pleased when Killian is already meeting her halfway when she turns to him inside the door. With impatient movements, they leave their shoes by the door, and she urges him to drop the clothes he’s still holding. They make their way back to the bed, and Emma crawls into his lap and presses their linked hands into the mattress by Killian’s head as her mouth turns greedy.

She wants him bare, she wants all of him, dammit, and he growls into the kiss as if he knows this as she fists her free hand in his hair to hold him steady against her, their lips devouring. She wants, wants, wants, but Killian pulls back for a moment, halting her in her tracks.

“Emma, before this goes any further, I have to know that you’re sure about this.”

The fact that he asks makes Killian one of the most considerate men she’s ever gone to bed with. Here she is, in his lap, half-naked, chained to him, and he’s still willing to give it all up if she just says the word.

There’s some part of her that almost takes the out: this could get weird. They’re likely going to be spending the rest of this festival together if they can’t get ahold of Granny tomorrow. Not that there’s much more festival to contend with. After their set in the afternoon, her obligations are completed. She could always get him back to Storybrooke and get Billy to cut off the cuffs if she has to.

And in the meantime, she thinks, here Killian is beneath her, the hard length of his cock pressed almost exactly where she wants it to be. She doesn’t have to sleep with him, she knows this, but they can certainly have some fun. Any guy willing to track down the best onion rings at the festival for her is worthy of that, in her opinion.

Something suddenly clicks in her mind, something about the food from yesterday. “Killian,” she says, her eyes trained on his. “How did you know about the onion rings? How did you know to offer me that specific food?”

It’s equal parts totally endearing and hilarious to watch Killian’s face turn red. Right to the tips of his ears and down his neck are all a tomato red she never anticipated and he blinks several times in surprise.

“Lucky guess,” he says, but it’s a lie. She can tell just by the intonation, by the way his eyes flutter so he’s not fully meeting her gaze.

“Try again.”

He sighs, shifting his focus away from her and looking somewhere at the top of the yurt. When he does speak, it’s muttered, and she has the distinct feeling that he’s hoping she can’t hear him in the quiet stillness of the solitary space. But oh, she hears him loud and clear. “Everyone knows that Emma Swan’s favorites are grilled cheese and onion rings, and hot chocolate depending on the weather. With cinnamon,” he adds at the very end, finally chancing a look at her again.

This is the first time he’s openly admitted that he’s one of her fans – in fact, when they started arguing yesterday about whatever it was that started the argument, she was sure he was totally oblivious to who she was.

“You follow me on Instagram?”

His face morphs into something distinctly mortified, but she doesn’t wait for him to answer. Instead, she bites her lip to stop the laugh that wants to escape and leans down to kiss him again. She pushes all thoughts of his previous knowledge of her to the back of her mind, instead focusing on the way his tongue is tracing along her top row of teeth before he suddenly sits up. His free arm wraps around her waist to hold her steady as he pulls her down hard against him and she gasps at the sensation.

There’s a startling thought in her mind that she could get used to this - the push and pull of who has control. They shift the dominance often enough that her stomach swoops every time he gains it back, knowing he’ll turn to putty in her arms again in a matter of moments. There’s no chance they’ll be able to be naked for this experience, so they come to a mutual understanding that they’ll take what they can get. This can be good enough, because it has to be for now.

The real question is whether or not the “for now” part will turn into “to be continued” for them. Where the thought even comes from is beyond her, but just as suddenly, their future possibilities flee her mind because Killian lines up perfectly, his erection pressing through their underwear to slide just right against her clit and her breath hitches as she buries her head against his neck, letting her teeth graze along his skin to taste and tease.

With the blood rushing in her ears, it takes her a while to grasp that Killian is repeating her name like a mantra, perfectly timed with his thrusts, and she can feel how close the both of them are by the tension in his shoulders and the way she’s clutching tightly to any part of him she can. And then she’s there, climax quick but powerful, her thighs shaking as she sits astride his lap, and she cries out softly against him as she holds on tight. It doesn’t take more than a few more thrusts until he’s following behind her, his body going rigid for a few seconds before he coaxes her head back to kiss her again.

“You’re a bloody marvel, Swan.”

His voice, his smile, the sincere look in his eyes – it’s all too much and not enough all at once and Emma closes her eyes to kiss him again, suddenly terrified of what this all means. She hasn’t felt like this in so long, and not just the boneless pleasure of a good orgasm. Killian is the first person who hasn’t dangled her fame in her face or used that as the badge to get into bed with her. It strikes her again that it took nearly the length of a whole day for him to even admit he was a fan prior to their meeting.

All of a sudden, she’s exhausted, dealing with both the physical toll their last day has had on her and the emotional toll that she just did that with him, and so she lets Killian shift her to stand and shuffle them around until he can reach his stash of clothes. This time, she accepts the boxers he hands her in favor of swapping out her underwear. They stand side-by-side, changing in tandem, and they both seem to respect the unsaid rule of no peeking.

She doesn’t have a chance to overanalyze after that; Killian leads her back to the bed, going so far as to maneuver in a way that he’s pressed against her back, their clasped hands nestled against her chest. She’s asleep in no time again, lulled by the sound of whatever Killian is humming and the gentle pressure of his lips against her shoulder.

She wakes to the sound of their phones both ringing. She’s so tired, though, that she reaches out with her right hand and stops short when she realizes it’s still attached to Killian’s left. She grunts, then, switching hands as Killian stirs, murmuring something about shutting off their alarms as he burrows into her hair.

Without looking, she silences the ringtone and lets her arm fall back to the bed. Of course, the ringing starts right back up and Emma finally wrenches open one eye enough to look at the caller ID on her screen. She flicks at the screen, accepting the call and shoving the phone against her ear.

“What?”

“Emma, ping your damn location right now so Granny can get those cuffs off. We play in two hours. Do you hear me? Two hours.”

It takes a couple minutes for Ruby’s rushed words to connect in her brain, and then Emma’s gasping, sitting up in a tangle of arms and not even paying attention as Ruby rants on while still connected.

“I’ll ping it,” she blurts out, hurrying to end the call so she can share her location with her friend in order for her to locate the yurt in the camp. “Killian, get up,” Emma urges. She shakes him the best she can, turning in their pretzel to face him and leaning down to press her lips against his frantically. “Hey, wake up!”

He seems much happier to rejoin the land of the living when she’s kissing him, but it can’t last. She has to hurry. Besides, the intimacy of that move after such a short period of time has her rattled more than she expected it would. There’s a part of her that wants to just keep kissing him, wants to stay in this bed in this little cocoon they’ve created for themselves. And while she knows she could have that, theoretically...

“We’re about to have company,” she tells him, finally breaking through his sleep haze.

“Somebody to join for a threesome, then?”

She smacks his shoulder for that, biting her lip against the chuckle that wants to break out. “No, unless you want me to step outside while you and Granny have a good time,” she says. His eyes pop open at that.

“Oh, then we’re getting out of jail?” He lifts the chain for emphasis before he struggles to sit up. They scramble off the bed like that, and Killian unlatches the door just in time for a golf cart with Granny and Ruby to pull up right outside.

“Finally! Have a good night, lovebirds?” Ruby’s already dressed, her make-up and hair impeccable, and her smile is wide and bright. “Here,” she says, leaning off the cart to hand them the key and handing it back to Granny when they’ve each unlatched the offending metal.

Emma and Killian both take a moment to rub at their wrists before Ruby interrupts to remind Emma they’re on a deadline.

“Sure, of course, gimme just a minute, okay?”

The way Ruby’s eyebrow raises up is all Emma needs and she gives her friend a pointed look while slipping back just inside the door to find her leggings and boots. She wraps her sadly dirty hoodie around her waist before she looks at Killian.

“Well, I guess this eliminates the need to find another song to duet today,” she remarks, trying to put some humor into the moment. He does chuckle, but it’s dry and solemn.

“Aye, but that’s okay. You’ll enjoy your show more when you’re able to move around without me holding you back.”

There’s something in the way he says it that punches at her heart despite the way he smiles when he says it. So it’s only natural that she’d soothe that statement with a kiss. This one is a tinge desperate and apologetic because she’s about to dash away for her own performance and they’ve just left everything a giant question mark.

“I’ll see you around,” she breathes out, a smile tilting up her lips as she runs her fingers along the back of his ear, her thumb playing with his earring for just a second. Without further ado, she plants one last kiss directly on his lips and darts out the door. She does her best to not look back and instead focuses on the day ahead of them.

Ruby’s words are ringing through her brain as they speed back to the bus where Emma can shower and change. She flashes through the water as fast as she can, only cleaning her body and leaving her hair naturally wavy as it dried last night.

“Is Killian coming to watch?” Mary Margaret asks from her left as Emma painstakingly applies her makeup. Her hands are shaking, just the tiniest bit. It’s probably the lack of sleep, and so she pauses from applying her eyeshadow to take another deep gulp of the coffee that they had waiting for her.

“I don’t know,” she answers, trying for a dismissive tone. She doesn’t have the mental capacity to deal with anything surrounding that topic right now so she hopes that Mary Margaret drops it. Her hand shakes a little more and she takes a steadying breath before swiping on her eyeliner as carefully as she can. With practiced speed, she coats her lashes in mascara and stands, giving herself one last look.

If there’s a word to describe how she feels she looks right now, it’s “softer.” It’s more than just the hair and the lack of false eyelashes. The outfit she’s wearing is the same as she would always go on stage with. The jeans are practically painted on, her backup boots are up to her calves, and the tank top she’s wearing flows freely around her torso to give her room to breathe. So she guesses it must be something about her expression, about the small smile that won’t go away no matter how stern she tries to look as she makes one last fix to her lipstick.

“Let’s get this show on the road,” Emma says, giving Mary Margaret the broadest smile she can manage as she picks up her leather jacket from the back of her chair. She doesn’t need it, not really, but it’s like armor to her. Her friend looks at her carefully, tilting her head to the side for a moment and raising her eyebrow like she’s also trying to puzzle out the difference in Emma’s demeanor. But she just smiles, holding out her hand to take Emma’s as they leave the bus and join Ruby and Mulan outside.

It’s an easy trip to the main stage, with security leading the way and Mulan assisting. It helps that they’re not making a mad dash to the other side of the festival, and that she’s not being yanked in a thousand directions. Twice now, she’s caught herself reaching for a hand that isn’t there, though.

She is surprised to find a bit of a crowd in their backstage section. There’s David with his charming smiles and supportive words, extending beyond the woman he is so clearly enamored with. And Robin and Regina are actually standing less than five inches apart which is closer than she’s ever seen her manager standing to anyone else. There’s a suspicious lack of their third, however, and Emma stifles her disappointment best she can. She wants to ask, even opens her mouth to question David, but they’re being ushered on to the stage and he gives her a shrug and a final call of encouragement.

It’s all come down to this, Emma thinks - the lights are blaring even though it’s a bright and sunny day. She’s glad she left her leather jacket back stage because she’d already be roasting if she had it on. With that in mind, she pulls deeply from the water bottle she brought with her and turns to her bandmates for the start of their show. More than once, she can hear a yell from a fan about the lack of Killian on stage, and she tries to laugh it off.

“Sorry, folks. This is a solo-Emma adventure,” she says, forcing a smile on her face when a sudden wave of loneliness comes over her.

It goes so quickly from that point forward. She takes up her guitar when it’s called for, sits down at the keyboard for one or two songs, and grabs the ukulele she uses for just two of their songs right before they make it to the halfway mark of their set.

They finish the first of those songs to wild applause and cheers, and Emma smiles as she takes the microphone off the stand. It isn’t until she brings it back up to her mouth that she realizes it’s her left hand, her right arm still dangling at her side despite her natural inclinations. She even put back on the stupid wristband that he bought them to stop the cuffs from chafing their skin. She huffs out a chuckle, closing her eyes and smiling while Ruby and Mary Margaret wait for her cue to start the next song.

She looks back to them, seeing Ruby tilt her head to call her over. Emma clips her mic back on the stand and wanders over, away from the amplifying devices. “Mulan told me that a bunch of the fans have been asking about Killian. They’d heard about some kind of publicity thing with handcuffs and were excited to see it in person.”

“Should I --?”

“Yes,” Ruby says, and Mary Margaret echoes from five feet away where she can tell what’s being said. Emma groans with nerves, bouncing on the balls of her feet for a second before going back to her place.

“I seem to have exorcised my demon too soon,” Emma says thickly into her microphone. “Turns out he may have grown on me a little. So Killian, this next song is for you.”

This wasn’t the next song on their set - not one she’s ever played in public. They mostly stick to their own original works, but sometimes she finds the best way to express herself is using someone else’s music and lyrics instead. The chords and words of “Tonight You Belong to Me” are ones she knows by heart, and it echoes their early morning trip back from the bathrooms where he hummed along right with her. Ruby and Mary Margaret both hang back, instead letting her solo with the ukulele.

When the final note rings out, the crowd cheers, the frenzied yells making her freely laugh. She glances to the side of the stage and sees both David and Robin frantically trying to text. Mulan is recording the whole thing, as she’s sure a lot of the audience members are. It’s not every day fairytales come true, apparently. Now to just hope it works.

It all gives her courage to chant the syllables of his name so they’ll all catch on. If his band members can’t get a hold of him, maybe the entire main stage can. Mary Margaret and Ruby follow suit, wide smiles on their faces as their voices join in over the sound system. She has no idea if he’s even going to hear her, hear them, but she has to try. For once in her life, she wants things to work out.

It’s astonishing to hear all these people chanting his name, and Emma can’t fight the smile that’s breaking out as she keeps it up. Not knowing if he can hear her, or if he’s on his way, or what his progress is if he is on his way, she takes a bit of a chance.

“Killian, if you can hear us, I want that second duet, after all.”

It’s like a tidal wave when it happens: the cheers start in the back - the very, very back - and she watches as the wide crowd parts little by little and the cheers get louder and closer. If she tries, she can see the figure that’s moving them, his hand shooting up once when he’s halfway back to show the matching wrist band. She watches with ever-growing fascination as he moves through the audience. As the ripples of awareness travel upwards, they move easier and suddenly he’s sprinting towards them, a look of pure determination on his face.

It takes some help from the security at the front, but then he’s there in front of her, breathless but smiling, his left hand reaching for her right to link their fingers together.

“So you missed me then, love?”

“Shut up and sing with me,” she says, smiling as he inches a little closer.

“May I kiss you hello first?”

To this, she doesn’t respond. She reaches for his t-shirt and pulls him closer, leaning up on her toes to kiss him and then laughing through it when the whole crowd goes wild behind him. “Now can we sing?” she asks.

“Aye, love. What’s your choice?”

“You know ‘Always By Your Side’?”

He flushes in clear answer to her question, and Emma smiles. It’s the first single that made it onto the radio, and even more fitting now given where they began the day.

“Good. Also? You wouldn’t have held me back, just so you know,” she says away from the microphone. There’s more to be said - this isn’t where their conversation is even close to ending - but he ducks his head in a surprisingly bashful nod. They’ll have time to discuss it all later when they’re not ticking down their stage time.

The videos of their duet on the main stage end up going viral. There are pictures everywhere of them singing, eyes locked together, matching smiles on their faces. He posts a shot of their joined hands on Instagram later that he simply captions “Best festival ever” underneath, with an emoji of chains afterwards.

The next year, when they’re both invited back, they’re booked back to back on the mainstage with one act melding into the other as they sing together to close out one set and open the next. The year after that, he posts the same picture of their hands linked together, but Emma’s left hand is clasped over top of their joined ones, the ring just catching the sparkle of the dim light of their festival lodgings. His caption this time reads “Amendment: THIS was the best festival ever.”

And really? She can’t disagree with him on that one bit.

[johnlockficclub]

Discussion Recap: Just talk!!!

Well, we survived week two! What a fab discussion and thanks to @sherlock-nanowrimo​ for the recap this week since neither @yorkiepug​ nor @lediona25​ were able to take part. Much appreciated!

“You’re such an idiot sometimes.”

Only sometimes?  Jealous trash can John made an appearance this week.  And wasn’t Greg a marvelous specimen for John to be envious of?  Younger, fitter, served more tours, and even has a better therapist:

LOL Like there was SO MUCH DETAIL ABOUT GREG FROM JOHN'S POV and then Stacy it's like "I think she was in a bikini? And it was blue?" – @inevitably-johnlocked​

Bless his jealous broken heart – @benzedrine-calmstheitch​

Like trying to tell himself he doesn’t still have anything to offer Sherlock – @inevitably-johnlocked​

The problem with the jealousy is that it resulted in the aforementioned idiotic behavior:

John is such an idiot for offering to leave. Sherlock OBVIOUSLY wanted to make a move while they were alone. - @one-thousand-splendid-stars​

Massage, John. How is your shoulder? - @tildathings​

Me, after the whole hot tub thing - @almosttomorocco​

And then the next morning, John’s over-the-top reaction to the menfolk congratulating Sherlock:

Oh god John’s little snipe to Sherlock about not getting too into their cover broke my heart – @benzedrine-calmstheitch​

John being so hung up on not wanting to be thought of as a bottom that he sabotaged himself - @wildishmazz​

Internalized homophobia party of JOHN – @benzedrine-calmstheitch​

We had a great discussion about that particular conversation and what it said about these men and John’s view of sex.  Were they just giving a thumbs up to sexy times or were they really insinuating that John was a bottom or a conquest or both?  I think we all agreed that it’s a bit not good to have the view that in sex someone has to be a conquest.  Or to view bottoms in the same way.  Mostly we think John’s just suffering the effects of jealousy and unresolved sexual tension.

Meanwhile, we were also wondering what was Sherlock’s deal:

He’s just, so distant, he seems so angry. WHY????? - @hpswl-cumbercookie​

wtf was Sherlock talking about that put him in such a huff immediately afterwards? - @wildishmazz​

We were also frustrated that we might have gotten a hint what he wanted if it hadn’t been for the text:

I reallly wanted to know what Sherlock was going to say to him back in the room after the hot tub  - @one-thousand-splendid-stars​

THAT GODDAMN PHONE – @benzedrine-calmstheitch​

Speaking of the text, his silence about some aspects of the case are just making John’s already jumbled feelings even worse.

Wonder how long Sherlock is going to keep the additional clues from him. - @srebrnafh​

Sherlock better let John in soon or there's going to be A Big Misunderstanding™ – @inevitably-johnlocked​

I feel like there must be a reason he is keeping john in the dark - @almosttomorocco​

So yeah, as much as we’re annoyed with John, Sherlock gets a portion as well.  They are both a mess:

JUST TAAAAAAALKKKK - @almosttomorocco​

I think with both of them, their emotions are at the surface. And having to pretend must be frustrating - @sherlock-nanowrimo​

It didn’t help that they kept getting reminders of Mary, both with the wedding stuff and other things that John is only now realizing may have affected Sherlock:

I loved how John caught that Sherlock thought John was “being like Mary” about the origami – @inevitably-johnlocked​

And that she wasn’t joking - @wildishmazz​

Not that we were pulling our hair the whole time:  

The spaghetti squash talk was so sweet, but we wanted more “Like BOYS, do THAT, but with YOUR FEELINGS – @inevitably-johnlocked​

John is so THIRSTY and I love it – @benzedrine-calmstheitch​

I loved Sherlock being self-conscious of his body when he knows John is checking him - @one-thousand-splendid-stars​

I loved that John was wishing he could get to know Sherlock better, that they could share personal things, not just casework - @sherlock-nanowrimo​

John thinking Let Me In?!? I DIED – @benzedrine-calmstheitch​

Boy, allow him closer and stop sniping at him, maybe he’ll be more willing…. - @srebrnafh​

As for the case itself, we’ve got a lot of speculation going.  Theories and suspicions:

Sounds like the horseradish sauce was deliberately removed to make her look in the freezer - @wildishmazz​

Also, the head cook’s fiancé leaving her for his girlfriend that he then married? And that’s the exact same scenario of the destination wedding the wedding planner arranged? – @benzedrine-calmstheitch​

But the three victims all at the same wedding in Jamaica suggests to me that we’re on the cusp of discovering that, and how, all six of them were connected - @wildishmazz​

See, I worry for Jodie because I think she’s the next target what with all these new Jamaica developments - @hpswl-cumbercookie​

Jodie may be a victim, but maybe she is the killer? - @srebrnafh​

I don’t think the chef is good for it at all - @hpswl-cumbercookie​

Red herrings that make the case so good - @tildathings​

We also gave kudos to John for his investigative skills:

I really liked that John was the one to make that important connection  - @one-thousand-splendid-stars​

Also, can I just say – I LOVED John being like…Fuck it, we are a team.  It may not be going well right now, but WE ARE A TEAM - @almosttomorocco​

Leaving with a final thought – was there any symbolism to the sudden appearance of the swans?  Romance? Impending peril? Or comic relief?

And with that - we hope to have some more answers (and action) next week! See you then!

[resident-of-storybrooke]

Under the Mistletoe

Rated: We’ll go with M for language

9.6k words...apparently I was making up for lost time this year lol

Read: AO3 or fanfic or wattpad

Summary: Killian is Emma’s favorite barista. Emma is Killian’s favorite customer. But what if Killian wants more and Emma needs a date to take home for the holidays? Will they get burnt, or will they be brewing in love? 

AN: I am excited to finally share, @nevertothethird​, tis I your Secret Santa!!! It has been an absolute joy getting to talk to you these last few weeks. I hope you have an epic road trip, and I hope that you enjoy your gift. This the first proper thing I’ve written all year and boy does it feel good to write again. Thank you @cssecretsanta2k19​ for putting this all together, blessed to be a part of the event for the third year now. And MASSIVE thank you to @kymbersmith-90​ for beta-ing the hell out of this bad boy for me, couldn’t have done this without you, my friend! 

tagging some of the fam squad (I don’t have a tag list, please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed): @kymbersmith-90​ @let-it-raines​ @artistic-writer​ @hollyethecurious​ @hookedonapirate​ @carpedzem​ @nowforruin​ @kmomof4​ @wellhellotragic​ @thesschesthair​ @doodlelolly0910​ @welllpthisishappening​ @flslp87​

Please enjoy and ALL THE LOVE!!!

Killian would rip the bloody chimes down if he knew that  Belle wouldn't be pissed about it. Every time someone comes in or out of the coffee shop, the light tinkling sounds acts as a reminder. A reminder that he lost Liam eleven years ago. A reminder that he fled England the year after spiraling without his brother. He doesn't hate his job; honestly, it's not a bad gig; he’s thankful that Belle took pity on a fellow expat and gave him the opportunity. It just that sometimes listening to peoples' ridiculous coffee orders annoys him - hence why he spends most of his time in the back baking. Well, that was until she walked in a few weeks ago. 

He didn't know much, only that her name was Emma and she liked to order the same drink every time, never once considering anything else. Sometimes she splurged on a baked good that always seemed to align with the days that Killian had spent baking. He always took pride in his work, but ever since Emma walked in, he had upped his game.

Killian didn't believe in love at first sight, but there was something there he couldn't deny it. She was a ray of sunshine in his otherwise dull rainy days. The first time Emma had stopped in all those months ago, Killian swore his heart had skipped a beat. That Tuesday had felt like any other day, until she’d stepped through the door. The shop wasn’t overly crowded or loud that day, but there seemed to be this peace she brought into the room with her. Killian might have been too distracted by his haze of admiration to actually listen to her order. It wasn't until he’d heard her laugh that he realized she was laughing at him. 

 "Uh...um, wow...yeah, sorry, love. What can I get for you?" 

She stepped closer to the counter, acting like he couldn't hear her giving him an out. "Can I have a large hot chocolate with whipped cream and cinnamon on top, please?" 

 "Cinnamon? Really?" Killian usually didn't care much to interact with his customers. Still, he knew this was a fleeting moment and he was going to do everything in his power to enjoy every second of it.

 "Yeah, it adds a nice little kick.."

 "Ah, well, perhaps I'll have to give it a try myself, love." Killian knew he could be charming, but he also knew he laying it on a little thick at that moment. However, that didn't seem to bother Emma as her cheeks soon had the loveliest shade of blush gracing them. 

 "Name?"

 "If I tell you mine, you have to tell me yours. Deal?"

 Killian couldn't help the grin that overtook his face. "Aye, we have an accord."

 "Emma. My name is Emma." 

 "Emma...beautiful." Then he heard her laugh again and realized like a git he’d said her name aloud. "Uh, sorry about that. I didn't mean -"

 "No worries…"

 It took him a moment to remember side of the deal. "Killian, the name is Killian Jones." He reached out his hand, and thankfully Emma gave him hers, but instead of shaking it like a normal man would have, Killian brought her hand to his lips, and placed a gentle kiss on the back of it.

 They only interacted briefly. Killian made sure to take her order and that he was the one to serve her as well. He didn't normally do that for anyone else. The moment Belle caught on, she teased him relentlessly; however, she never got in the way of Killian's fleeting moments with Emma. Belle was a good boss and an event better friend for that. 

 He wished that one day he would grow a pair and actually talk to Emma, beyond taking her order, maybe one day. And perhaps that day was coming soon.... 

 Emma entered with a huff and went right to her seat. Somehow, it was always empty whenever she came in. Killian grabbed her usual and a chocolate cinnamon cookie because she seemed to need something sweet. But as he walked over, he realized she was on the phone.

 "Yeah...no...of course...I'll be home. Yeah yeah yeah, I know, Ruth. I'll make sure to bring him too. I know you're excited to meet him. He's excited to meet you all." 

 Killian felt his heart fall. She was with another man. The fantasy of a future with Emma finally came crashing down. He almost dropped the cup of hot chocolate and ran off, but managed to hold himself together long enough to set it down on her table. Right before he could make an escape for the backroom, Emma grabbed his arm.

 "Killian, here, let me pay you for this." As she reached into her purse, Killian tried to ignore the spark that ignited inside of him at the feel of her hand on his arm.

 "It's on the house, love." She looked up, thankful, to say the least. 

 "But Killian, are you sure?"

 "Aye, you're here enough; you've earned a free treat. Besides, it sounds like you have a lot going on. It’s the least I could do."

 Emma's face fell in confusion and then she seemed to realize what he meant. "Oh, the phone call? Yeah, my mom is expecting me to bring my boyfriend home."

 Killian tried not to let that crush him; obviously, she was distressed and needed to share her burdens with someone. He just didn't understand why it needed to be him. "What seems to be the problem? Does he not want to meet your family?” 

 "Ha, God, I wish. No, um, you see I - oh God, it's gonna sound so stupid - I lied about having a boyfriend." Killian stood there in shock. "Ruth, my mother, is great and everything, but she’s been begging me to bring home a guy for a while now. I skipped out on Thanksgiving for a case, in favor of going home. And instead of telling her that, I may have lied and said I was staying here with my boyfriend."

 "The boyfriend that doesn't exist, right?"

 "Yeah, way to keep up there, Jones. So...I don't have a boyfriend and apparently, Ruth is organizing some massive holiday party where I am expected to make a debut with him. And I'm slowly realizing that this was probably the stupidest thing I could have ever come up with. I mean, I'm a grown woman. I should've just told her the truth. And now I have to go back home - without a boyfriend - and deal with -"

 "I can go."

 "What did you just say?

 Killian realized that his brain must no longer be connected to his mouth, because only an idiot would have said he would go. But then he saw the look on Emma’s face. There was something in her eyes - maybe it was hope - or maybe it was desperation. He hoped it was the former.

“I said,” he sat down next to her, “I would be more than willing to go home with you, Emma.” Her eyes immediately met his, and she could tell he was serious about his offer.

 “Killian, that’s sweet but we barely know each other. My brother is going to be there. He’s a cop. Actually - a detective. He’s good at sniffing out the truth so he’ll through the charade the moment we step through the door.”

 “I know, love. But maybe I’ve been waiting for an opportunity to learn more about you.” Emma looked away as she blushed. “I’m serious about my offer. I’d be more than happy to accompany you home and make this the best Christmas for you.”

 “You’d really do that for me?”

 Killian could see the tears in her eyes, barely held back. “Aye, love. I think you’ll find I’d do anything to make you smile.” He brought his thumb to her cheek and gently wiped the stray droplets away. “So, just who are you, Emma?”

 “Wouldn’t you like to know,” she said, chuckling as she tried to defuse the tension.

 “Perhaps I would, love.”

 Emma gave him a disarming smile - and that was when Killian knew he was in trouble. 

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 Killian had two weeks to learn everything possible about Emma Swan. The first thing he learned was that her last name was Swan, and he found that it fit her well. He’d also learned that she was a bail bonds person, she liked dogs and cats (but dogs more) and she looked up to David (her brother) more than anyone else. Killian had shared that he had been in the Royal Navy with his brother; and that he missed home (but he preferred the weather here in Boston). And, of course, that he enjoyed a glass of rum every now and then. 

 The drive from Boston to Storybrooke, Maine wasn’t long per se, but nonetheless, Emma was a bit on edge. Killian tried his best to keep her calm during the six-hour car ride. Seeing Emma at ease, without a care in the world, was sublime. He could tell it was something she rarely got to experience, and now it was his mission in life to give her the moments more often.

 After their rousing version of carpool karaoke that would put James Cordon to shame, they decided to finalize their cover story once more. 

 “We met at a Fourth of July party where-”

 “Where you just found me too irresistible and-”

 “You wish.”

 Killian took his eyes off the road for a moment to gaze upon Emma. “Aye, love,” he agreed, and added a wink for good measure. 

 Emma rolled her eyes and continued their fib of a love story. “You just happened to work at the local coffee shop around the corner from my place...”

 “And eventually you realized I’m a dashing rapscallion that you couldn’t live without.” Emma gave another of her non-infamous eye rolls and Killian added, “Scoundrel?” He could see Emma tense up suddenly, and Killian realized that perhaps he had made her uncomfortable. “Love, I’m sorry if I crossed a line. I was merely jesting.”

 He peeked over to see she was looking out the window, lost in thought. Four songs, not that Killian counted, played before she spoke. “It’s not that, Killian. It’s just...do you think we can do this? We have to make my family believe that we’re halfway in love with one another for the next week. Are you really ready to commit to that?”

 Little did she know, Killian thought, he was more than halfway in love - if not already there himself. But he still took a moment to consider the consequences of their silly little plot, and how they would be greater for Emma than for himself. He pulled off to the side of the road and said, “Emma, I swear to you I wouldn’t have agreed to this if I didn’t believe in us. I promise I will do everything in my power to make you feel comfortable these next few days,  and to be the best date you could ever bring home.” 

 Killian held his breath as Emma stared at him. He could see the caution in her eyes, the weariness of the whole nefarious scheme. But then he saw it. There was hope in her eyes. Maybe it was reflected from his, but he swore at this moment, Emma believed they could do this. 

 She didn’t say a word, merely nodded her head, and Killian got the car back onto the road. The rest of the drive went without a hitch. In fact, they were a little ahead of schedule when they arrived in Storybrooke.  

 “Would you, um...like to see where I grew up?” Emma said, a bit unsure of how to act now that they had arrived. 

 “I would be honored to learn more about your beginnings, love.” Emma gave him the same tentative smile from earlier and directed him around the small town. 

 Killian felt an odd sense of familiarity, as they explored the town. Storybrooke reminded him of the village he grew up in back in England. As they drove around, Emma pointed out some of her favorite places. The first being Granny’s, a diner that apparently had the best grilled cheese and onion rings Emma had ever tasted. She also showed him the sheriff’s station, where she may or may not have spent some “time” after being caught with a boy underneath the bleachers in the wee hours of the night. Emma shared  the story of how Ruth had let her off easy after being left in the cell for ten minutes. Emma had been worried Ruth would kick her out, but apparently, she had just laughed, and suggested Emma find a different venue - and better yet, a different boy. Killian chuckled at that. He already owed a debt to Ruth for finding his Swan and giving her a home, but he could see this woman had changed Emma’s life in many different ways, and for that, he could never repay her. 

 As their little tour came to an end, Killian pulled up to Ruth’s house, and Emma began to fidget in her seat once more. “Swan, it’ll be okay,” he promised. She simply stared at the house in silence. “Emma, I promise it’ll be the best week of your life. I’ll do everything in my power to make it so.” 

 Just as Killian made a move to unbuckle his seatbelt, Emma leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek. Both instantly turned red at the display of affection, and Killian realized they needed to get this out of their system if they were going to convince everyone they’d been dating for months.

 After climbing out of the car, Killian moved confidently around the trunk to grab their suitcases. When Emma began to protest, Killian told her it was what a good boyfriend would do before he shot her a cheeky wink and then headed for the door.

 They didn’t get the chance to ring the doorbell. Ruth had already opened the door and pulled Emma in for a hug when Killian made it to the doorstep. He took a moment to enjoy seeing Emma with someone who cared so deeply for her, and whom she cared for as well. 

 “Ah, well, don’t you think you should introduce me to your man here, Beans?”

 Killian swore he heard Emma grumble at the embarrassing nickname, and he very much looked forward to hearing the story behind it. “Ruth, this is Killian Jones. Killian, this is my mother, Ruth.” As Killian reached his hand out, Ruth completely bypassed it and went right for a hug. Killian had lost his mother when he was a lad, so the maternal display of affection was unfamiliar but not unwanted. 

 “M’lady, it is a pleasure to finally meet you,” he said as he  reached for her hand once more and placed a kiss on her knuckles.

 “Oh, now I see why Emma’s been hiding you away. You are far too charming for your own good.”

 Killian was unsure if the woman meant it as a jest or was somehow already seeing through their facade. He stood there with a nervous smile. 

 “Speaking of charming, where’s David and Mary Margaret?” Killian was thankful for Emma’s quick thinking. He needed to chill out if they were ever going to make this work.

 “Oh, they’re already inside. Come on in, you two!”

 As Killian stepped inside the old Victorian home, he couldn’t help but feel that this was a loving home full of special memories. When he made his way out of the foyer, he saw the wall - practically a shrine - full of photographs of Emma and David. The pictures of Emma only started in her teens after Ruth adopted her, but there were just as many of her as there were of David. 

 Killian only got to enjoy those for a moment, as Emma tugged on his arm to continue into the living room. Inside there was there he saw a man around his height with sandy brown hair and to his left, a much smaller woman with a pixie haircut dancing around. Killian recognized David instantly from the pictures in the hallway, and he knew that the woman dancing was Mary Margaret - David’s very pregnant wife. The two seemed to be lost in their own world as he entered the room, but the moment. As soon as Mary Margaret caught a glimpse of them, she ran over to Emma, nearly tackling her with the force of her hug.

 “Oh, jeez, M’s! I didn’t know that baby bump was part bulldozer! A little warning next time.” 

 Mary Margaret laughed at Emma’s comment. “Well, you see Emma, it has many perks. The best being a table for when I’m sitting.” 

 The two women started to gab about the pregnancy and life in Storybrooke, which left Killian awkwardly standing there. Ruth handed him a drink, which he believed it was eggnog (he’d never had it before). While he sipped his drink, Killian stood there watching Emma enjoy reuniting with her family. Though he had always been able to tell that she had a kind heart, Emma definitely kept it hidden from most of the world. Killian relished the thought of being the one to put her heart out there, and hoped that she wouldn’t feel the need to hide from him.

 He was interrupted from his musings when David stood from his seat to approach the newcomer. 

 “David Nolan, Emma’s big brother. It’s nice to meet you.” 

 Killian reached his hand out. “Killian Jones. It’s nice to meet you as well, mate.” 

 “So, Killian, how long have you been with my sister?” 

 Killian tried to keep his composure, as this was the first real test to see if he and Emma could make it through the week without an incident. 

 “Well, you know your sister, mate. It can take her a minute to trust someone. I recently moved to the area-”

 “From England?”

 “Ah, though the accent may say otherwise, I have lived in the States for nearly a decade now. But I’ve, I just moved to Boston to work at my friend’s coffee shop. I’m the baker. Emma’s actually frequent flyer there, and we just started chatting a bit. She was kind enough to show me around the city, and I help her with her perps sometimes. Realized we were practically dating-”

 “And I realized that I’d found a good one, and I should hold onto him for a bit. Maybe, haha.” Emma had come from nowhere and wrapped her arms around him. For a moment, Killian wished this was more than pretend, that Emma wanted to be with him and wasn’t just doing this for show. However, he knew he needed to get it together if they were ever going to make it through this week, and have some form of friendship after it was over. 

 As if on instinct, Killian leaned down slightly and placed a gentle kiss on the top of her head. He heard Emma’s breath hitch and tried not to take it personally. 

 The answer seemed to appease David enough for the moment. 

 “Oh, I forgot to show you to your room! Sorry about that, Killian. Follow me and we can get your things up to Emma’s old room.” Ruth seemed excited to show Killian the rest of the home.

 “Oh, I can show him the room, Ruth. There’s no need for you to go up there for that!”

 Emma grabbed his arm and practically dragged Killian, up the stairs to the bedroom. That’s when he realized why she was so insistent on showing him his room alone. It was their room. They would be forced to share Emma’s childhood bed for the week. 

 “Swan, I can take-”

 “I’ll take the floor.”

 “Love, it’s more than fine. What kind of gentleman would I be if I made you sleep on the floor? That’s not an option.”

 “Killian, you’re already doing all of this. The least I could do is sleep on the ground.”

 Before Emma could get another word out, David barged into the room, almost as if he anticipated interrupting something. “What do you want, David?”

 “Mom just wanted me to grab you, dinner is ready,” he was silent for a beat before he turned his attention towards an extremely nervous Killian. “I’m watching you, Jones,” was all he said, before he left the room.

 “Sorry about that. They really don’t believe in personal space in this house.”

 “Ah, which is why, and only why, I suggest we may have to share the bed.” Emma immediately opened her mouth to argue with him when Killian stopped her. “Love, you just said they don’t respect boundaries, even in the bedroom. What are they to believe when they see you in the bed and me on the floor? That’s only going to lead to more lies and headaches. I promise, Swan, I’ll completely respect your boundaries if that’s what you’re concerned about.”

 “It’s not that, it’s just...I don’t trust myself…”

 “Afraid you won’t be able to keep your hands off me?”

 “Actually, yes.” 

 Killian looked at Emma, as she stood on the opposite side of the bed. The distance felt much further. He could tell that she had instantly regretted saying that, but he wouldn’t let her for another moment. 

 “Emma, I won’t deny my nerves as well, but I believe that we can both be adults here. As I said, I would never put you in a situation that made you feel anything less than comfortable. If you’re truly unsure, I’m willing to sleep on the floor and set an alarm to get into bed just in case they barge in.”

 “No, no, that’s silly. Like you said, we’re both adults. We can share. Now come on, it’s time for dinner.”

 “As you wish.” 

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 The rest of the first night continued without a hitch, most of the attention on Mary Margaret given that she was nearly the end of her pregnancy, as the baby was due in February. David remained silent throughout most of the dinner, continuously eyeing Killian, but he tried to ignore the other man’s suspicion. 

 The first night in bed, however, was anything but comfortable. Both tried to act as though the other was not there and continue with their normal bedtime rituals. But the silence was unnerving, and neither of them knew how to relieve the tension. Killian didn’t help when he removed his Henley, and Emma saw him shirtless for the first time. He hadn’t thought that through because when he turned around to face her, Emma couldn’t hide her gaping mouth and wide eyes. He wouldn’t lie, it felt good to have an affect on her. Killian knew he was a handsome man, but he hadn’t been concerned about female attention in a long time now - not until Emma had walked into his life. He saw the blush rise in her cheeks and though he wished he could see how far that blush went, he decided it was probably best that he put a shirt on. 

 Emma was the first to break the silence. “Um, what side of the bed would you like?”

 “Whichever side you do not prefer, love. I have no qualms, either way, I assure you.”

 “Do you always talk like that?”

 “Like what, Swan?”

 “Like you’re much older than you actually are. Like you’ve just stepped out of some Jane Austen novel?” Emma finally made her way into the bed, and Killian slide in next to her. 

 “I’ve talked this way since I was a wee lad. I guess it stuck with me. Does it make you uncomfortable? Would you rather me say ‘Psh, you can pick whatever side you want, boo?’”

 Emma lost it at his horrible American accent and rolled over to laugh in his face - but froze when she saw how close they were. “No, um, no, it doesn’t make me uncomfortable. It’s just...I...I’ve never met anyone like you, Killian Jones.”

 Emma locked eyes with him, and he saw it again, that hope was back from earlier in the day. “Aye, love, I’m one of a kind.” Killian could still sense her nerves so he suggested, “Perhaps we should get some shut-eye? I think I heard that we’re going Christmas tree shopping in the morning. David said he was going to put my muscles to the test, whatever that means.” 

 “Oh, he’s gonna see if you can carry the tree by yourself - which you won’t be able to. And neither can he. I’m sorry he’s coming off like such a-”

 “Like a big brother? It’s nothing to fret over love; my brother was the same way.”

 “Wait, you have a brother?” 

 Killian cursed himself for letting that slip out. “I had a brother. Liam, he passed away about a decade ago.”

 Emma fell silent for a moment before she said, “You told David you moved here ten years ago.”

 It wasn’t a question, but Killian knew what she meant, “Aye. I left England after his death. I couldn’t be there anymore. He was the only family I had left, and it was just too much being there without him. I made my escape and never looked back.”

 “Do you miss it?”

 Killian took a deep breath in, “I miss him. I miss the trouble we got into as lads and the pub that was on the corner of our street,” that got a laugh from Emma. But I do not wish to move back. I’ve found a home here, and some people I truly care for.”

 “I’m sorry about Liam. if you ever want to talk about him, I hope you know I’m here for you.”

 “Thank you, Emma. I appreciate that greatly, perhaps one day I’ll share a tale or two with you.”

 “I look forward to it. Sleep well, Killian.”

 “You as well, love.”

 He’d never meant to share that part of his life with Emma. Not right now. However, he couldn’t help but feel relieved that she’d welcomed him to share his stories. It was almost like she genuinely cared for him. So, Killian fell asleep with a smile on his face and a heart full of hope that perhaps this wasn’t going to be a big mistake.

 The mistake, in this case, happened when Killian woke up. Emma was using him as a pillow and their legs were intertwined. He finally had her in his arms and Killian relished that moment. She looked so at ease and comfortable, almost like she was meant to be there and he was meant to hold her. 

 Then she awoke.

 Emma’s peaceful smile quickly fled, and panic took over her, the blush rising once more, as she stuttered an apology.

  “I assure you love, I have no issues with being a body pillow. Perhaps though, I should wear a shirt where your drool-”

 “I do not drool!”

 “The stain on my shirt proves otherwise, my dear.”

 “Well, I...uh...shit, sorry I’ll just go get ready.”

 Killian quickly reached for her hand to diffuse any concerns she had. “I promise, love, it’s not anything to fuse over. I was merely making a joke.” He held onto her hand as she nodded, and then bent forward to place a gentle kiss on her hand, just as he’d done the first time they met. Emma, still in some form of shock or panic, freed her hand and then hurried from the room to get ready for the day. 

 Killian fell back onto the bed moaning, thankful she’d missed the part of his body that also seemed to enjoy her close proximity. He needed to take care of that at some point, but perhaps not in her childhood bed. Killian decided to make his way downstairs, and he would bring Emma some hot chocolate as a peace offering. Peace from what, though? From him? He continued to war with himself until he heard a voice.

 “What do we know about him? I mean really, she didn’t tell you his name until a week ago!”

 “David, that’s enough! He seems to be a charming young man who cares about your sister.”

 “So did the last one, and look how that ended! I don’t trust him. Something’s going on between the two of them and I don’t like it.”

 “Exactly, David, something is going on between them and it’s something serious. I know she’s your sister but she’s also a grown woman. She can make her own choices and Killian seems to be a good one. Did you see how he was looking at her? It’s the same way you look at me, David. He loves your sister that much is obvious. And I don’t think it’s one-sided.”

 “What do you mean, Mary Margaret? You think she, that she…”

 “You can say it, David. I think your sister loves Killian -  if not yet, then she’s getting there. I’ve known her for a long time, and I’ve never seen her like this. Not with Walsh, August, or even Neal.”

 Killian was torn on what to do at that moment. Obviously, this was a conversation not intended for his ears. He couldn’t help but wonder what Mary Margaret was hinting on about with Emma’s ex-lovers, but now was not the time for him to ask.

 A lull in their conversation finally gave him the proper time to make his presence known.

 “Good morning everyone.” Killian tried to act normally and not as if that conversation was going to replay in his mind for the remainder of the day. 

 “Oh, good morning, Killian. How did you sleep?”

 “Like a rock, love. And you? I hope the babe is letting you get some rest before he makes their grand entrance.”

 “Ah, he was kicking up a storm last night so not too much sleep. Would you like some coffee?”

 “Actually, I was coming down to make Emma some hot chocolate. Do you happen to have some chocolate in the house?”

 “Are you going to make it from scratch?”

 “Aye, I never give her the premade stuff. I know better than to get in the way of Emma and her sweets.”

 “Smart man,” David said, finally acknowledging Killian’s presence. Mary Margaret grabbed everything he would need without question, Killian went to work quickly on the hot chocolate. He made sure to add her cinnamon on top, and everyone in the room seemed impressed that he’d remembered it. 

 Just as he was finishing, Emma came into the kitchen and went right for the cup without a second thought, she pushed herself onto her toes and kissed Killian on the cheek. The group made breakfast together, except for Emma who was a well-known disaster in the kitchen. Killian enjoyed his time with Mary Margaret and Ruth. He’d always had a knack for cooking and baking, so Killian felt at ease for the first time all day. 

 As they finished their meal and put away the leftovers, David and Emma started prepping the living room for the tree. They bickered back and forth on what size they wanted versus what would work in the room. 

 “Yes, they’ve always been like this.” Ruth said as she came from upstairs.

 Killian was caught off guard by the comment, “Seems as though they love each other, regardless of their differences opinions on Christmas trees.”

 “This is nothing. You should’ve seen them when they were younger, lord, there were days that I questioned if I could handle two teens.”

 “Though my opinion may not mean much on the matter, you obviously did an amazing job with the two of them. I know I’m biased when it comes to Emma, and I don’t know David well, but they both seem lucky to have had a mother such as yourself.”

 “Thank you for saying that, Killian. Will I get a chance to meet your parents soon. They must be proud of having such a wonderful young man for a son.”

 Emma and her family really had a knack for hitting on sensitive subjects, it seemed. “Unfortunately, my mother passed when I was eight and my father became overwhelmed by everything. He left my brother and me one night. Luckily, my brother was eighteen at the time and was able to gain custody of me. We lived together for about a decade until a drunk driver took his life.”

 Ruth didn’t say anything and although Emma was not hers biologically, he could see the same look upon her face as when Killian had told Emma his story. “Well, please know you are always welcome to join our family. I’m happy that Emma’s found you. I think you’ll both be good for each other.”

 “Aye,” Killian was overwhelmed by the woman’s kindness. “she’s the best thing I have in my life, if I’m honest.”

 Thankfully, Emma came over and seemed to sense the tension, as when Killian reached his arm out for her, she instinctively curled into his side. Ruth smiled at the couple, truly delighted that her Emma found someone as wonderful as Killian.

 Everyone gathered their coats and gloves and made their way to the van to head for the Christmas tree farm. David and Emma continued their conversation on which tree was the best and what size they were looking for. Killian enjoyed witnessing the small family moments and desperately wished he could have done the same with his mother and Liam. 

 When they arrived at the farm and had climbed out the van Emma reached for Killian’s hand. Even through the gloves he could still feel that spark. “Everything okay?” Emma asked. 

 “Aye, love. Why wouldn’t it be?”

 “It’s just, you’ve been really quiet since we left the house. Is it because of what happened this morning, cause-”

 “Oh, no, love, it’s nothing like that. It’s just, I mean, I told you a bit about my past. But I’ve just never had a real Christmas tree before. It wasn’t something Liam and I felt was important when we lived together. And seeing you with your brother, arguing over which one to get, reminds me of what I’ve been missing out on for some time now.”

 “Well, for this week, you’re a part of this family. So you can argue about the tree if you want.”

 “Funny, your mother said the same thing.”

 Emma pulled away for a moment. “My mother said what to you?”

 “That I was a part of the family, or I could be, if I wanted to.”

 “Do you?”

 Killian paused for a moment, not because he needed to give it any thought but because he knew his answer could make Emma run. “Aye, love, I would be honored to be a part of anything with you.” He looked down at her and saw a single tear running down her face. When he reached out to wipe it away Emma grabbed onto his hand. He didn’t know why, but he had the urge to kiss her at that moment, and she didn’t look too opposed to the idea when he saw her eyes linger over his lips. Just as he started to move towards her, they were interrupted. 

 “You guys, you better hurry otherwise David will - oops sorry! I didn’t mean to ruin the moment. Maybe I can come back after you’ve had your...uh...moment?”

 Killian sighed in defeat, “Perhaps we should get a move on, Swan? Don’t wanna hear you complaining about the tree not being perfect when we get back home.” Emma laughed and lightly shoved his chest.

 The hunt for ‘The Great Christmas Tree of 2019’ was on, and Killian did everything in his power to ensure David wouldn’t hate him by the end of the day. 

 The two men bickered often, but it reminded him of the way he and Liam used to act. As the day went on, David eased up on him, and even offered to help carry the tree the van instead of making Killian hike it back himself. 

 It was when they’d finally gotten the tree home and started work on decorating it that Killian began to feel like this was where he was meant to be.  That him offering to be Emma’s fake date was not a horrible idea but, in fact, the start of something great for them both.

 Ruth announced that she was calling it an early night, and the couples decided to have a little movie marathon. David and Mary Margaret claimed the sofa so she could spread out, which left Emma and Killian with the love seat. It sat two comfortably, but only if the two were comfortable sitting close to one another. Killian tried to keep his composure as Emma laid the blanket over both of them their legs and snuggled. He draped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her in a little closer - just to keep up the ruse.

 Killian had no idea what movie they watched, all he was concerned with was Emma’s hand, which had been drawing nonsensical patterns on his stomach. He truly believed she had no idea what she was doing and when he looked at her, she stopped - but for a moment. When Killian kissed the crown of her head, her hand continued it’s patterns. 

 After the third or fourth movie, Killian realized that Emma was fast asleep at his side. David and Mary Margaret talked about putting on the next film, but Killian told them he was going to take Emma to bed. While he knew the logical idea was to wake her up, he didn’t want to disturb her peace. So, Killian carried her up the stairs and into their bedroom. When he gently placed her down on the bed, he saw her scrunch up her nose and put her hands out, as if she were looking for someone. 

 Killian quickly changed and go into bed. It only took a moment for Emma to curl into his side once more and when she did, Killian welcomed her into his arms.

 When he woke the next morning, Killian found himself in a different position. Emma’s back was towards him  and he, for all intents and purposes, was spooning her. One hand was wrapped around Emma (because apparently, he liked to cling to her possessively in his sleep) and the other was tucked under his head. It didn’t take long for Killian’s body to react to Emma’s close proximity. He tried to keep his thoughts pure; to think about literally anything else. But nothing seemed to distract him from the goddess in his arms.

 Killian truly though he had slipped into some sort of alternate universe when he felt Emma move. It wasn’t to wake up; she was slowly grinding her body against his. He knew he was playing with fire, so he quickly detached himself from Emma, and decided that he would need a cold shower to try and diffuse the situation. 

 He tried to clear his head, but the feeling of Emma’s body against his was enough to lose his mind. Killian refused to find release in her bathroom. He wasn’t sure how much longer his body was going to handle the pent up tension. They had only arrived Saturday night, Christmas was Wednesday, and he needed to survive until after Ruth’s big Christmas party Friday evening. 

 When he finally regained his composure, Killian finished his shower and shut the water off. Just before he could reach for the towel, the door opened, and Killian slid the curtain back to hide from whoever had entered. 

 “Hello? Killian?” It was Emma, thank god, he thought.

 “Aye, I was taking a shower.”

 “Oh, shit, sorry! I didn’t hear the water and was confused about where you went.”

 Killian poked his head out from behind the curtain. Emma was still in the bathroom, despite his current state of undress. “I just finished up, I’ll be out in a moment. I can make you some hot chocolate if you want, love?”

 “I, uh...no...I’m good. I’ll, shit, I’ll just let you get dressed in peace. See you downstairs!”

 Emma ran into the wall, and Killian chuckled until he realized why she was so discombobulated. He had apparently revealed more of himself than he thought, luckily his most private part was covered, but not much of anything else was. 

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 As the next two days went on, Killian and Emma continued to blur the lines, neither one shied away from affection in front of others, but they were also not afraid to remain close when they were alone. After the third night, Emma said she didn’t mind waking up in Killian’s arms. It wasn’t the most romantic phrasing, but Killian took it in stride. Hearing Emma admit that she was enjoying being close to him made him feel as though he wasn’t the only one who felt that connection between them.

 Before they fell asleep on Christmas Eve, Killian heard Emma murmuring something to herself. He couldn’t make it out and decided it would be best not to ask her. He figured she would share whenever she was ready.

 Christmas Day was overwhelming, to say the least. The house woke early, not to open gifts, but to drive to the town over and volunteer at a homeless shelter. Killian knew the family were good souls, and to see it in action reminded him that there was still goodness in the world. 

 After spending most of the early afternoon at the shelter, the group returned home and opened their gifts. Emma and Killian had given David and Mary Margaret some items off their baby registry that they hadn’t been gifted at the baby shower. Killian had gotten them an extra gift, much to Emma’s surprise, of a little pirate stuffed toy. At the looks of confusion over the small pirate, Killian explained how back home, everyone would gift a new baby a doll. He told the couple that an old wives’ tale said that the dolls were protect the child, and while people found it silly, David and Margaret seemed to appreciate the sentiment.

 David and Mary Margaret had gotten Emma an Easy Bake Oven and a cookbook for dummies, everyone thought it was hysterical, even Emma. And since the couple did not know Killian well, they went off the basic knowledge that he was a baker and got him an apron that said: “This is my pretend I can bake apron.” 

 While everyone scattered to make cookies, Emma and Killian stayed by the tree.

 “Oh, before I forget, I got you something, Killian.”

 “Emma...you didn’t have to get me anything.”

 She rolled her eyes at his protests, “I know I didn’t have to, but I wanted to.” She handed him the small box wrapped perfectly neat with a bow on top. Killian was surprised to find a Christmas ornament shaped like the hook Captain hook would wear inside of it. “I remember you saying how much you loved that story and that he was your favorite.” Killian looked at the hook. He was in awe of the thoughtfulness of Emma’s gift. He didn’t know when she’d had time to find such a gift; as he’d only told her that story during their car ride to Storybrooke. 

 Emma sat there waiting for his response, he could see her fidgeting in anticipation. Without a second thought, Killian placed the gift back in the box and leaned forward for a kiss.

 It was soft and sweet. Her lips felt just as he’d always imagined they would when pressed against his own. He pulled back, much too soon in his opinion, but Killian remembered where they were and why they were there. Emma still seemed to be in shock, but it only lasted for a moment and then she was leaning back in for another kiss. This time, Killian placed his hand on the back of her head, gently holding onto her golden locks. The kiss deepened slightly and was only stopped by some obnoxious coughing obviously coming from David. 

 The spell was broken, but Killian swore at that moment nothing had ever felt so right. The two got up and joined the others back in the kitchen to help with the cookies.

 Killian was placed in charge as he was a baker by trade. The group followed his directions but decided to make it more interesting by doing a decoration competition, where Ruth would be the judge. 

 In the end, everyone presented their plates to Ruth. David had attempted to create a dog, like the one that was at the shelter he worked at, but it more so looked like a blob. Mary Margaret had decorated hers to be in the shape of a onesie for a baby. Killian had to admit he was rather impressed with her natural skill. Emma merely threw on every sprinkle and candy she could get her hands on. It was a mess, and Ruth was a bit concerned about the taste, but let it slide since it was Emma. Killian’s creation was the most realistic of the bunch. He designed his cookie to look like a mug filled with hot chocolate. But the design inside of the cup is what grabbed everyone’s attention. It was a swan. 

 Emma recognized it instantly, Killian had made a similar creation back in Boston. She looked up at him and found that he was blushing while scratching behind his ear. It was a nervous tick Emma recognized instantly. Killian won the design off, and by doing so was able to choose their dinner, Chinese food.

 For the rest of the night, Killian was surprised to find Emma nearly glued to his side, it was not unwelcomed, and Killian decided to make the most of this gift. 

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 As the week progressed, Killian knew that at the end of all this madness, he was going to sit Emma down and explain his intentions. He loved her. It was that simple. He wanted to live a life where Emma was not just a part of it, but the star of it all. He had grown accustomed to waking up with her hair in his mouth and his arms wrapped around her. He loved how she was so thoughtful and kind to others. He had known for a while she was someone special, but this trip put in perspective that she was the most special person in his life, and he would do anything for her to see that.

 Still, Killian was nervous that she only saw him as a friend. It terrified him that at the end of this, there was a possibility she could walk away without a second thought. He tried to keep those doubts buried, as there was no need to stress over something he couldn’t control. But that was easier said than done.

 Tonight, was the town’s Christmas party, although gala was perhaps the more appropriate word. Everyone was there to help set up for the event. Killian was pleased when Emma introduced him to some of her high school friends. He found her group to be a mishmash of personalities and yet, they all fit perfectly together. There was Elsa, who was probably personality-wise the closest to Emma. Jasmine, who had also transferred in late like Emma, and then there was Ruby. Ruby was loud and her mind seemed to live in the gutter. Killian knew that if given a chance, they’d probably be great friends too.

 At one point, David asked for Killian’s assistance on a task that clearly needed one person. Which suggested that the other man had an ulterior motive in asking for help. 

 “So, Killian, I think it’s time you and I have a little talk. What exactly are your intentions with my sister?”

 Killian knew it was coming, but he was still caught a bit off guard at how abrasive David was being. He thought he had grown on the man throughout the week, but David’s stance demanded an answer from him. “My intentions are to make her happy, by whatever means necessary. I don’t need to tell you that she’s been through a lot. Her trusts means the world to me. Her heart is precious, and I intend to care for it as if it were my own. Your sister is the most important person in my life, and I wish to stay around for as long as she lets me.”

 David’s features were neutral throughout Killian’s little speech, and then finally, he let a small smile slip. “Welcome to the family then, Killian.” 

 Killian offered him a smile of his own. He was thankful that David finally seemed to trust him with his sister’s heart. The two men spent the rest of the day helping one another, laughing, and finally being at ease. 

 Killian was on his way to grab some chairs from the closest when he once again walked in a conversation not meant for his ears.

 “Spill. Now.”

 “Ruby, I don’t know what you want me to say!”

 “How about the truth, Emma Marie Swan! No texts, no calls, not so much a word. And then you show up here with Killian? Emma, I know you’re reserved but you would’ve told me if you were dating someone. Shit, you’ve told me about one-nightstands before! What’s the deal with you and Killian?”

 Emma sighed in defeat, “We’re not really dating. It’s all pretend.”

 “Emma, are you serious?” 

 Killian didn’t hear her reply, he assumed she nodded her head.

 “Yeah, okay? It was all for pretend. He just offered out of pity, I think. He’s my barista from back home, and he overheard me telling Ruth I was bringing a guy home. And now? Ha! Everything has gone to hell...He’s just a fake date.”

 Killian had heard enough. His heart felt as though someone had reached into his chest and crushed it. He walked away, not daring to listen to any more of how she actually saw him. Just some guy. Some fake date that’s gone too far. Killian stormed out of the building and went for a walk to clear his head. 

 Emma watched as he left but unfortunately, Ruby still had her corned. “So?”

 “So what, Rubes?”

 “Are your feelings for him fake as well? Cause honey, I can tell you his most definitely are not.” 

 Emma knew that deep down, Killian was no longer acting. And somewhere along the line, she had stopped too. Ruby seemed to take her silence as her answer, smirking at her friend as she walked away. 

 “Oh, and Emma? I would tell him sooner rather than later the truth because otherwise, you’ll be under that mistletoe alone.” Ruby knew when to drop the mic and walk away, which always impressed Emma. She just never liked being on the other end of those moments. 

 Emma tried to find Killian, but he seemed to have disappeared from the building. When she went home to change for the party, he kept his distance and never stayed in the same room with her for more than a moment. It didn’t take her long to realize something must have been bothering him, but she chalked it up to him feeling overwhelmed with his current situation.

 Ruth stayed at the venue and changed there, so the two couples decided to ride together. Mary Margaret was wearing an elegant white long dress, and David was dressed in a navy-blue suit. They looked like royalty together. 

 Emma had decided on a black dress that was laced with beautiful patterns and hugged every curve. Killian was in awe of her beauty but tried to hide his emotions. He had decided during his walk, that it would  be best for him not to think of Emma as anything more than a friend. 

 “You clean up well, Mr. Jones.” Killian had trimmed his scruff and wore a black suit, coordinating perfectly with Emma.  

 “Thank you, Swan. You look lovely as well. Shall we go then?” No one else seemed to notice that Killian was off except for Emma. In recent days, he’d been calling her love, darling, and most recently mo ghra. Emma still hadn’t looked up what it meant, she knew his mother was from Ireland and had assumed it was an Irish term of endearment. 

 The entire car ride there Killian didn’t so much look at Emma. He couldn’t, he was weak and would not be able to stop himself from falling more in love with her every second that passed. He needed to be strong and realize this facade of a relationship would be over the moment they returned to Boston. 

 As they entered the building, Killian spotted the mistletoe that had been hung above everywhere. He knew that had not been the original plan. Damn, now he would have to avoid walking through a doorway with her.  

 The party continued without any incidents. Emma had asked to dance with her on a number of different occasions, but he always found an excuse to avoid it. He felt terrible. He could see she was upset by his rejection, but he figured it was for the best. They’d nearly been caught under the mistletoe four times now, and it was starting to feel like Emma was deliberately trying to catch him.

 As the night wore on and couples began to take their leave, the DJ announced it was time for the last song, and invited everyone onto the dancefloor. Killian saw Emma standing off to the side. She looked deflated and he couldn’t stand seeing her that way. Without care for his heart, he stood and offered Emma his hand. 

 There it was again. That hope had returned to her eyes once more.

 As they began to dance to an old Christmas song Killian wrapped his arms around Emma’s waist, and her own came up to settle over his shoulders so her hands could play with his hair, like she had done for most of the trip.

 “Killian, I just want to thank you. If you hadn’t offered-”

 “It was the right thing to do, love.”

 “Why did you do it? Why did you offer to come with me?”

 Killian felt his resolve breaking, he wanted so desperately to say it was because he loved her, but he bit his tongue. “All I know, Emma, was that you deserved to have a special Christmas. One filled with precious memories, not concerns regarding your dating life. And I, uh, I couldn’t imagine you going home with anyone else. The thought of that was unsettling.”

 “You didn’t want me to go home with someone else?”

 “Truth be told, love when I heard you on the phone and you mentioned you were with another, my heart sank. I thought I had lost my chance.”

 The two of them danced in silence, as Killian prayed that he hadn’t crossed a line. 

 “I know you heard me make my wish, you know?”

 Killian gave her an odd look, confused by what she meant. 

 “On Christmas Eve. I know you weren’t asleep.”

 “Oh, that? I was confused by what you were saying. It’d been a long day and I thought you were mumbling something in your sleep.”

 “No, um...it’s a silly thing I’ve done since I was a kid. Christmas Eve, before I fall asleep, I make a wish. The first year I did it, I wished for a home; two months later, Ruth found me. It’s silly and usually nothing happens, but-”

 “It’s charming, Swan. We all could use a little hope every now and again.” The irony wasn’t lost on Killian at that moment. He hoped so desperately that Emma would see him as more than her fake date. 

 “Aren’t you going to ask me what I wished for?”

 “Isn’t that bad luck, love? I wouldn’t want your wish not coming true because of me.”

 “There’s only one way to find out,” she whispered, but Killian still caught it over the music. 

 “What did you wish for, mo ghra?”

 Emma smiled brightly. During the night, she’d looked up what that phrase meant. “Love. I wished for the man I love to love me back.”

 “Emma?” Killian stopped dancing. He stood still and prayed he’d heard her correctly. “Are you...do you...please say it. Please tell me I’m not dreaming.”

 Emma stepped further into his space and held his gaze.

 “I love you, Killian Jones.”

 Killian kissed her as though his life depended on it. And at that moment, felt like it did. 

 “I love you, Emma Swan. More than you’ll ever know.”

 The two barely made it home before they could express their love in a physical way. They didn’t tell anyone that it was fake at the beginning, until the night before their wedding. Emma finally confessed to her family when Ruby inadvertently mentioned it. David had a field day with the news, but Mary Margaret was amazed at their acting. Ruth simply told them that they had never really been faking it. They were merely hiding the truth from each other.

 She wasn’t wrong.

[spoonzdotjpeg]

1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10,11,12,13,14,15,16,17,18,19,20,21,22,23,24,25,26,27,28,29,30,31,32,33,34,35,36,37,38,39,40, >:((

 this is exactly what i was expecting. HERE WE GO I GUESS

1. What was the name of the first person you ever had a crush on? Why did you like them? Jeremiah. He was my closest friend when we were both like 5 and I always had the best time with him. The next person I had a crush on was Matthew, he was the cutest boy in Kindergarten and just looking at him made me smile. We also shared the same tae kwan do class.

2. What is one thing you regret having done or not done in your life? Um, I don’t think my list of regrets is really big. I can’t really think of anything super prominent. Maybe trying so hard to fit into a crowd that wasn’t meant for me back in middle school. That haunts me.

3. Which parent do you identify with the most? My dad, hands down.

4. What do you think you cook or bake the best? I make some killer scrambled eggies. And if my mom guided me, I could make some good flan.

5. If you could change your first name what would it be? Ooh boy, there’s a LOT of names I really like. LOVE the name Jack and Leonidas though Leonidas feels too badass for me. I’ve tried getting my friends to call me Lee, that’s my middle name.

6. Can you hula hoop? Maybe 2 loops

7. What embarrasses you the most in front of other people? Stuttering

8. Have you considered running for president? I was an avid candidate in first grade.

9. If you had to choose one thing you were most passionate about, what would it be and why? Art, it’s my greatest expression and I’m already passionate about. I wish I was passionate about the acting side of art, but my anxiety and stage fright over shadows it far too much.

10. Who are you most envious of—real or fictional—and why? Always been mad jelly of Beast Boy because I always wanted to be a dog and not a kid with responsiblities, I also always wanted to fly. His voice and the little fang poking out was always so freaking cute to me. And Jeffree Star. Gosh, did you just see his closet vault video? I have a very hard time believing someone has enough money to live the way he lives.

11. Where is the most beautiful place on earth and why? On my last visit to Puerto Rico, my family and I took a day trip to the most gorgeous place I’d ever been. It was this water fall hidden in some forest. I don’t remember what it was called or what city it was in. All you had to do was pay $5 for parking. Getting down there was kind of scary because there was no railing and it was a poorly made pathway down to the waterfall. The closer you got to the water, the muddier the path got, but once you were down there it was so worth it. It was perfectly shaded by the tropical trees. The water was CRYSTAL CLEAR. A bunch of people had brought lawn chairs and coolers and speakers with their own music, don’t ask me how they brought it all down there. Tons of people climbed up the waterfall and jumped down into the pool at the bottom. I never again saw something as beautiful as that and I often dream about it. I hope to go back again one day.

12. Are ghosts real? I don’t want to call my friends liars because they’ve experienced it, but I guess I’m a believe-it-when-i-see-it person in this case, which is so weird because I’m kind of religious too.

13. Are aliens real? Why else are they so secretive about Area 51??

14. How old is the most expired item in your fridge? oof don’t make me get up. My mom doesn’t let shit sit in there for more than 3 days lmao. it’s probably one of the condiments though.

15. What are your favorite style of underwear? I call them lady boxers. They’re closer to boxer-briefs, but like super short. They’re body hugging and make my butt look gr8.

16. What’s the saddest song you’ve ever heard? Um, The cover of Zombie by Bad Wolves makes me really sad rn.

17. How about the sweetest song? Northern Lights by Prototype Raptor makes me feel really good all the time.

18. Do you know how to play dominoes? Yes, surprisingly!!

19. What’s under your bed? My bed doesn’t have an under, it’s a mattress on the floor. Oh, but I have a sketchbook under it because it got bent lol.

20. Have you ever prank called someone? When I was like 8, I wanted to call my dad, but I got the number wrong. I apologized and wound calling the same number a few times, but I didn’t know what was wrong. The lady who answered was forgiving at first, but then the next few times she got really mad and I think that’s where my telephone/social anxiety started. That’s also the closest I got to prank calling. I did eventually get the number right and called my dad.

21. 100 kittens or 3 baby sloths? I have 3 kittens in my backyard rn, so gimme 100 sloths.

22. Are you proud of what you’re doing with your heart and time right now? Um…half yes half no. That’s a loaded question.

23. Why or why not? Healing from some drama, but I feel stuck in life right now, so I’m tryingggg to get unstuck.

24. How many bones have you broken? Exactly Zer0, knock on wood.

25. Have you ever won anything? Big or small? I won an art contest in elementary school. And recently I won a giveaway, I was the 4th winner. But my place expired if I didn’t claim my prize that night, and I saw the email 2 days too late.

26. If you could buy one material thing, and money was not an issue, what would it be? A whole ass house.

27. What’s your favorite movie from your childhood? I always loved The Trumpet of the Swan.

28. What food will you absolutely not, under any circumstances, eat? OLIVES

29. What’s the best way to comfort you when you’re having a really terrible day? The company of my friends.

30. Has anything/anyone every saved your life before? My mom did. I was like 7 at a local water park. I went down a waterslide and I fell off the tubing when it hit the pool at the bottom. I couldn’t get my footing and was losing air, OOF. The lifeguard didn’t move to help me or let my mom grab me because I “had it.” Iin fact did not have it. My mom had to push past the lifeguard and scoop me up. Pretty sure that would’ve been the end of me.

31. Would you ever adopt a child? Hm, maybe.

32. What is one thing you’re embarrassed to admit you want to try? You trying to make me embarrass myself? Um, okay I wanna try sensory deprivation and being in a vacbed. Maybe at the same time, who knows?

33. If you were a cake which cake would you be? NAPOLEON

34. What is the most important material possession you have and why? I have a feeeeew. TV, PS4, Laptop and drawing tablet, and my phone. They keep me entertained and connected with the world/help me express myself. If I didn’t have them, I’d probably just lay in my room and stare at the ceiling.

35. What is the most important memory you have and why? The memories of my 2005 Disney vacation with my family. I felt true happiness then.

36. When was the last time you cried? Hm, probably a few weeks ago.

37. How old was your mother when she had you? 28

38. Which famous person would you like to be BFFs with? Shane Dawson looks fun to be around, I feel like I’m already friends with him lmao. Oooh and Oliver Tree is a riot.

39. Is there something you wish you had said sorry for but never did? I’m constantly apologizing so no lmao.

40. Have you been on your first date? If so, how did it go? Never been on a date. Prince Charming, I’m here. Come take me.

Finally, we reach the end. If you read all that, then you’re a real one.

[idristardis]

The Writing’s On The Wall - CSLB

Summary:  Normally quiet and sleepy, Storybrooke, Maine has been going through the polar opposite of a crime wave. There hasn't been even so much as an incident of shoplifting in MONTHS. Until the day an anonymous graffiti artist starts leaving murals and street art all over prominent town buildings. Who's behind it? Why don't the townspeople want to press charges if/when the "vandal" is caught? And what does all of this have to do with Sheriff Emma Swan and local bakery owner Killian Jones?

Rating: Mild T (mainly for a little kissin’ and a little swearin’)

Word Count: 15,000 on the nose!

Possible triggers: I’m not really sure I’d consider these triggers, but this fic does contain mentions of past!Millian and past!Gremma (both in a positive light) and past!Swanfire (in a negative light), so if none of those things float your boat, I’d recommend taking a miss on this one.

Tropes: Mutual pining, friends-to-lovers, modern au (no magic), Henry-being-too-smart-and-cute-for-his-own-good, Zelena-being-Zelena, the author makes many jokes (lovingly) at Will Scarlet’s expense.

Background pairings: Snowing, Outlaw Queen, Frozen Jewel.

A/N: It’s hard to believe this day is finally here!! I felt like I ate/slept/breathed this fic for so long and then ended up having to wait the whole month of February to post, lol. Seriously, though, it’s humbling to be the “grand finale” of the CSLB, and I only hope my work lives up to the honor. This month has once again proved the depth and breadth of talent possessed by the writers and artists in the OUAT and CS fandoms. You guys all rock and should be very proud of what you’ve achieved!!

This fic was a labor of love - and it’s the longest thing that I’ve written and completed in forever - so I am extremely excited to share it with you all. I couldn’t have done it without my amazing beta, Hollie aka @the-captains-ayebrows​ who helped me refine the plot and pacing in so many ways - this story wouldn’t be half of what it is without her input - and my wonderful artist, Bianca i.e. @shipsxahoy​ who made the beautiful banner at the top of this post and a seriously awesome gifset that you can find HERE. I also want to thank the mods and the entire team at the @captainswanbigbang​ for running such a wonderful CSLB event (and for putting up with my frequent down-to-the-wire check ins and over-the-top word counts). You ladies have done a wonderful job and I’m so grateful to have been a part of it!! Now, without further ado (too late!!), The Writing’s On The Wall.

Also on AO3.

February 13th - Midday...

In retrospect, Emma thought, I really should have seen this coming.

Life in Storybrooke had been quiet – almost freakishly so – for the last few months. Not that the small, sleepy coastal Maine town she called home was normally a hotbed of criminal activity, but usually there was something going on that required her to flash her badge and threaten the local riffraff with a night in one of the cells at the sheriff’s station.

But not lately. It was mid-February and quite literally nothing arrest-worthy had happened since early December when she’d locked up Will Scarlet for attempting to steal the holiday decorations off the town common.

She knew for a fact that had been the last arrest she’d made, as Scarlet’s motives had been memorable. Apparently, he’d had some half-cocked idea of holding the decorations hostage until the mayor agreed to “ransom” them back for a hefty fee. (Emma had laughed for a solid minute when he’d explained. As if Regina would ever have gone along with that).

Since then, though - nothing. 

No bar fights, no petty theft, no DUIs, no domestic disturbances, no vandalism...not even any cats stuck in trees.

Emma’d had little to do except catch up on backlogged paperwork and finally start converting the sheriff’s department’s oldest files from hard-copy to digital.

In other words, she was bored out of her freaking mind.

Or she had been.

Because now, suddenly, the crime drought had ended rather spectacularly.

Emma had practically stumbled on the scene of the crime when she’d left the station a little before noon. She’d already been running late for Galentine’s Day lunch with Mary-Margaret - a longstanding tradition they’d kept up since meeting at the University of Southern Maine nearly ten years ago - when she’d seen it.

It had been hard - if not impossible - to miss.

“What the actual hell?!” Emma exclaimed, stopping dead in her tracks and staring at the building opposite the station. The response felt entirely appropriate when confronted with fifteen foot tall graffiti that absolutely hadn’t been there that morning. Whoever the culprit was, they were pretty talented, but also extremely brazen. They’d vandalized the brick wall of a two story office building in broad daylight, not twenty-five feet away from the sheriff’s station. Apparently, they didn’t care if they got caught, Emma mused. I mean, it’s beautiful, but that’s pretty damn cocky.

Sighing, Emma pulled out her phone to call Mary-Margaret and let her know she was going to be running even later for lunch, and that she’d explain when she got there.

All the while, her eyes barely strayed from the wall looming above her, adorned with a stunning multitude of simple (yet gorgeously painted) hearts in varying sizes and shades of pink, red, white, and purple.

(If she took a few more photos than were strictly necessary for the case file, that was her secret).

January 19th - Late Afternoon...

The bell above Second Star Bakery’s door jangled loudly, signaling that said door had been thrown open with considerable force. Though he would’ve liked to offer a sharp word to the culprit about the civilized way to enter a room, Killian kept his attention on the cupcakes he’d been in the middle of frosting, slowly looking up towards the source of the noise. The polite, “customer-service” smile on his face melted into something more genuine when he saw who his visitor was, and he approached the front of the shop with a spring in his step.

"Henry, what brings you by on a Friday? I wasn't expecting you till tomorrow afternoon for your usual visit with your Mum," he said, leaning on top of the display case nearest to the door and looking curiously at Henry Swan. The boy rocked slightly on his feet, shifting his weight side-to-side and averting his eyes when Killian’s gaze landed on him.

"I know, but I needed to talk to you about something and it couldn't wait any longer.” He was unusually fidgety. It struck Killian as odd, but before he could ask about it, Henry’d started speaking again. "Um...can you take a break for a few minutes?"

A tendril of concern tickled the back of Killian’s mind, but he tamped it down. Henry’d always been a good lad, and Killian was sure that, given a chance, he would explain what was on his mind. “Of course I can,” he nodded at Henry before pointing to the case in between them. “Now, how serious is this conversation? Does it require cupcakes, cookies, or eclairs?”

Henry shook his head, and his brow briefly furrowed in thought. “Pie,” he replied firmly after a few moments of careful consideration.

Killian arched an eyebrow. “Ah, that is serious,” he said, bending down and fetching the nearest pie out of the case. “Apple spice alright?”

Henry nodded and moved through the cafe tables dotting the bakery floor, heading for one towards the back. Leaving one of his sales associates, Wendy, in charge of things up front, Killian warmed a couple of healthy-sized slices of the pie and put them on a tray. Propping the tray on his left forearm, he steadied it with his good hand and carefully navigated between the tables. (Times like these always made him wish he had full use of his left hand, but an accident nearly seven years ago had taken his naval career - and much more - with it. He’d never regained full range of motion in his left hand, but he’d adapted to the injury - the other losses had been harder to recover from). Sliding into the chair opposite Henry, he waited while the boy dug into his pie.

And waited.

And waited.

Though he was determined to give Henry enough time to bring up whatever was on his mind, after several silent moments stretched between them, Killian couldn’t resist nudging the conversation along. “Henry...I thought you wanted to talk. Are you sure everything’s alright?”

Though his attention had been focused solely on his pie until that moment, at Killian’s question Henry sat back in his chair with a sigh. His eyes flicked up to meet Killian’s hesitantly. “If you thought that...someone liked you...like...that way...but they hadn’t really said anything, what would you do?”

Ah, Killian thought, inwardly relieved. Girl problems. This I can handle. I think.

He folded his arms on the table and leaned towards Henry, regarding him with a grin. “Well, first things first. Are the feelings mutual?”

Henry’s gaze locked on his. Killian had the distinct (and slightly unsettling) feeling the boy was trying to read him - but what exactly he was looking for, Killian wasn’t sure. He seemed to find it after a moment, nodding thoughtfully as he replied. “I think so. I mean...” He paused to take a large bite of his pie. “...I’m pretty sure.”

“Well,” Killian scratched lightly behind his ear. “I think you have to figure that out for definite before you decide how to approach this other person. It could be pretty awkward otherwise.”

Henry put down his fork and opened his mouth as if to speak before closing it again immediately - an action he repeated twice more before a look of determination crossed his features and he blurted, “okaywellhowdoyoureallyfeelaboutmymomthen?”

The tinny strains of a Mumford and Sons tune floating out from the kitchen were suddenly the loudest noises in the entire bakery.

But the only thing Killian could hear was his heartbeat skidding to a complete halt before promptly lurching into overdrive.

“Pardon?” he asked, sure he must have misheard Henry’s (admittedly rather garbled) question - yet simultaneously sure he hadn’t. “Say that again? Perhaps with breaths between the words?”

Henry slumped back in his chair. “I said how do you really feel about my mom?”

Right, so the lad did say those words. In that order. Right.

Killian took a deep breath, trying to school his features into something closer to nonchalance than panic. (He had a feeling he failed based on the way Henry was looking at him).

“Henry,” he began cautiously, “I don’t understand...I thought you were asking me about someone at school...someone who you thought fancied you.”

“Nope,” he said, shaking his head vigorously before pausing to contradict himself. “I mean, yeah, there kinda is someone I think I might like, but that’s so not the point of this conversation,” he finished before renewing his previously abandoned attack on his pie.

“Not the point...” Killian echoed faintly, scrubbing a hand over his face and back through his hair. This was, quite literally, the last thing he’d expected when he’d opened up shop in the morning. For the first time in the slightly more than three years since he’d owned the bakery, Killian was actually glad there were hardly any customers - with the wildfire nature of Storybrooke’s gossip mill, this conversation was the last thing he wanted anyone overhearing.

He can’t know, Killian thought. He can’t.

But then why bring it up? His inner voice countered in annoyingly logical fashion.

“Henry,” he tried again, “why would you ask me that?”

Henry stopped just short of rolling his eyes. “I was just doing what you said.”

That didn’t clarify anything. “What do you mean?”

“What do you mean, what do I mean?” Henry asked, putting his fork down. “You said finding out if the feelings were definitely mutual was really important before figuring out how to talk to the other person. So that’s what I was doing. So,” he asked again, “how exactly do you feel about my mom?”

Killian still could not fathom that this conversation was really happening, but Henry seemed as though he could - and would - stay planted in his chair until Killian answered him, so he chose his next words carefully. “You know I care a great deal for your mother, lad. We’ve known each other for several years now - her friendship means the world to me, and I wouldn’t trade having her in my life for anything.”

Henry simply looked at him for a few moments before throwing his hands up in the air. “Friendship?! Really?! That’s what you’re going with?!”

“Aye,” he said gently. “It’s the truth, Henry.”

Now, the boy did roll his eyes. “Yeah,” he scoffed, “but not all of it...especially not when I think my mom might be in love with you.”

February 13th - Lunchtime...

“Well, whoever did this...it’s gorgeous,” Mary-Margaret mused, handing Emma her phone back after looking at the photos of the mural.

“Yeah, but...unfortunately, it’s also a crime,” Emma replied, pocketing her phone after taking one last glance at the photos. “Or it should be.”

Mary-Margaret tilted her head inquisitively. “What d’you mean?”

Emma sighed, leaning her elbows on the table and picking at her last few onion rings. “I canvassed the people who work in the building, but only a couple of the offices are actually occupied, and neither tenant was bothered by the graffiti. In fact, they really liked it.” Mary-Margaret hummed thoughtfully before Emma continued. “It’s one of the few buildings in town not owned by the immortally cranky Mr. Gold, and when I called the landlord to notify him, he’d already heard about the incident and didn’t want to press charges when and if we found the ‘artist’ in question. Said it sounded like it improved the value of his property.”

The pair sat in silence for a moment. “Well,” Mary-Margaret said eventually, “I guess that’s actually lucky for you, right?”

“How so?”

“Now that you don’t have to chase down leads on this mysterious artist-vandal, you won’t have to work late on Valentine’s Day. See? Lucky!!”

Emma chuckled and shook her head. Mary-Margaret was an eternal optimist who saw the best in everyone. Emma was convinced it was this innate decency and kindness that had led Mary-Margaret to befriend her when she was a 20 year old freshman and single mother commuting to USM’s Portland campus from some no name town an hour up the coast.

Though a junior when they’d met, Mary-Margaret had been the same age as Emma, and had slipped into her life as if she’d been there forever. The fact that Mary-Margaret had gotten a job teaching at Storybrooke Elementary after graduation, and had married Emma’s friend and co-worker David Nolan ensured she probably would be in Emma’s life for the foreseeable future. Her sunny disposition generally balanced out Emma’s more pragmatic (some would say prickly) take on things - but occasionally, they just didn’t see eye to eye, and when it came to Valentine’s Day, they couldn’t be further apart.

Of course Mary-Margaret, being so kind-hearted, would be enthusiastic about a holiday devoted to love and romance. Emma didn’t have anything against actual love and romance, but an overly commercialized holiday devoted to a sappy version of it? That she could do without. “Just because I don’t have to work late doesn’t mean I don’t have to work,” Emma replied. “It’s not that lucky.”

Mary-Margaret shrugged in response, her optimism undeterred. “Well, do you at least have any plans for tomorrow night?”

Emma narrowed her eyes. “I don’t think I like where I think you’re headed with that question.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Mary-Margaret’s eyes were wide, her tone a shade too innocent.

“Uh huh,” Emma muttered. “Sure you don’t.”

Mary-Margaret frowned briefly before finishing her coffee and putting the cup down with a sigh. “I only want you to be happy, you know that, right?”

Now it was Emma’s turn to sigh. “I’ve got a wonderful family, friends who care a frankly ridiculous amount about me,” Emma raised an eyebrow, causing Mary-Margaret to chuckle, “and an amazing kid. I am happy.”

“I do know that - and I’m glad,” Mary-Margaret said, though her words were laced with concern. “But you know that’s not the kind of happiness I’m talking about. When’s the last time you went on a date?”

“I don’t need to have romantic plans on a made up holiday in order to be happy, Mary-Margaret,” Emma said, weariness creeping into her tone. They’d had similar discussions before.

“I know you don’t have to, but-”

“Besides, I’ve had dates on and off over the past few years,” Emma cut in. “You’re really talking about more than that.”

“Yeah, I am,” Mary-Margaret conceded. She paused, her gaze flicking to Emma’s before proceeding hesitantly. “It’s been almost four years since Graham died...I’m just afraid that between dealing with losing him and the impact of your past with Neal, you’ve closed yourself off. I don’t want that for you, Emma.”

Emma didn’t really have a comeback for that. Neal had been a con and a cheat, not to mention too old for her teenage self, and the only good thing he’d brought into her life had been Henry. Her history with him featured frequently in conversations about Emma’s lackluster love-life (generally with Emma tossing a good amount of expletives in his direction), but Mary-Margaret didn’t usually bring up Graham.

Graham had been everything Neal wasn’t - kind, patient, funny, and sweet. They’d fallen into an easy relationship not long after Emma’s post-college return to Storybrooke. Under the former sheriff, Art King, they and David had been co-deputies in the Storybrooke Sheriff’s Department. Graham had charmed her effortlessly almost from the start. They’d been happy for about eighteen months, until he’d collapsed one day during his morning run - ripped away out of the blue by an undiagnosed congenital heart defect.

Emma took a deep breath and released it slowly. If she were being honest, she’d have to admit that after Graham’s death, she’d turned inward - protectively walling off her heart against further hurt. She hadn’t really had a serious relationship since - but the pain of losing Graham was only one reason.

Yeah, but you can’t exactly admit that the other major reason you’re not actively looking for something serious is that you’ve gone and developed feelings for Killian, Emma thought. At least, not without Mary-Margaret completely freaking out on you and trying to get you to actually do something about them.

“Emma?” Mary-Margaret’s soft voice broke through Emma’s internal musings and pulled her back to the present. “I’m sorry if I pushed - I just care about you and I want the best for you. Sometimes I get carried away”

“It’s alright, you didn’t,” Emma said, reaching out to squeeze Mary-Margaret’s hand. “Honest. But I’m really fine - and you have my word that I’m happy. I promise if that changes, you’ll be the first to know.”

Mary-Margaret nodded, squeezing Emma’s hand in return. “Deal.”

“As far as tomorrow, I wouldn’t have time for a date anyway. I’ve got to get Henry ready for the school dance and embarrass him by taking as many photos as humanly possible,” Emma said. “That’s all the Valentine’s excitement I need.”

Emma felt slightly guilty for not revealing she did, in fact, have plans with Killian after Henry went to the dance. It wasn’t a date, so technically she wasn’t lying, but she was aware if Mary-Margaret knew, she’d take it the wrong way. Emma just didn’t have the energy to convince her that movie night with Killian, beer, and a giant pepperoni pizza was completely and totally platonic.

(Not that she wanted it to be. But the one thing she wanted more than exploring a relationship with Killian was to not lose him from her life. Anything that had the potential to wreck their friendship - like the fact she’d been well on her way to in love with him for most of the past year - was firmly off limits).

January 19th - Late Afternoon...

Killian gaped at Henry, positive his jaw was on the floor. He tried - and failed - to form words several times before finally finding his voice.

“I’m fairly certain you’re mistaken,” he said. “Granted, your mother and I are very close, but we’re just friends.”

Henry shook his head. “C’mon, Killian. I’m twelve, not stupid - and I know what I heard.”

That got Killian’s attention. “What are you talking about?”

“It was a few weeks ago,” Henry explained. “Just before New Year’s Eve. It was late, and I was getting ready for bed, but I’d forgotten some of my school books in the kitchen. When I went downstairs to get them...I overheard my mom talking to Auntie Elsa on the phone.”

“Eavesdropping is bad form, lad,” Killian admonished.

“I know - and I didn’t mean to. But she sounded kinda sad and I wanted to make sure she was okay, so I stayed and listened for a few minutes...and she was talking about you.”

Killian’s stomach churned at the thought that something about him had upset Emma. Causing her any sorrow or discomfort was the last thing Killian wanted. Against his better judgment (this felt far too much like gossiping behind Emma’s back), Killian asked, “why was she upset?”

Henry averted his gaze for a moment before looking back at Killian. “She said something about not being able to change how she feels, but not being able to tell you the truth either...and something about not knowing what to do. Then she just said ‘yeah’ and ‘uh huh’ a lot while Auntie Elsa must have been talking.”

“You still shouldn’t have listened to your mother’s conversation, Henry,” Killian said. A headache was starting to form behind his temples. “But all I can ask is that you not do it again.” He pushed back his chair and stood up, gathering their plates and cups. “I’m afraid I have to get back to work, but you know you’re welcome anytime.”

“That’s it?!” Henry cried in disbelief, following Killian towards the counter. “You’re not going to do anything about this?!”

Kilian dumped their plates into a rubber kitchen tub earmarked for used dishware and turned to face Henry, crossing his arms over his chest. “What exactly do you want me to do? I don’t think what you heard means your mum’s in love with me. Just that there’s something she feels she can’t tell me right now.”

“Yeah,” Henry retorted, “It’s that she loves you!”

“Henry, listen-”

“I’m pretty observant,” Henry cut in, “and I know both of you look at each other differently than you do anybody else - by the way, you should know it’s really sappy - and you spend a ton of time together, and...you care about each other, like, a lot. Plus, you take care of each other all the time. You’re...you’re almost as coupley as the Nolans!” he finished triumphantly, as if that statement alone proved all of his points.

“Nobody’s as coupley as the Nolans,” Killian rebutted. “Henry...I want you to know I’ve heard you,” he said seriously, “but the friendship I have with you and your mum is precious to me...I don’t want to do anything to risk it.”

It was as close to an admission of feelings as he could bring himself to allow.

Henry shook his head,disappointment filling his gaze. “But don’t you think you’re losing out on something even more special if you don’t take the risk?”

Killian didn’t quite know what to say to that, and before he could come up with an appropriate response, the bell over the door was jingling once more, signaling Henry’s departure.

January 24th - Dinnertime…in Storybrooke, at least...

“H’lo?” the voice slurred out a greeting after the person on the other end of the phone finally picked up.

“Liam?” Killian asked, before catching sight of the clock and doing a quick mental calculation. “Ah, shit...sorry. You were already asleep, weren’t you?”

“Almost,” his brother sounded slightly more alert now. “You caught me just in the nick of time, little brother. Now, to what do I owe the honor of this late night transatlantic call?”

Killian bit back the automatic correction of younger brother that itched to leap off his tongue. He felt badly enough for not thinking about the time difference before calling - he didn’t want to get sidetracked by protesting a habit Liam was never likely to change. Besides, he really needed advice. “I need your opinion on something, Liam.”

“Must be important - I can hear the nerves in your voice from here,” his brother quipped.

Killian nodded, even though he knew Liam couldn’t see him. “Possibly the most important thing.”

“Ah,” Liam said knowingly. “Must be about Emma, then. Finally decided you want to tell her you’ve been in love with her for ages, but haven’t been able to actually do it yet?”

“How in the world did you guess that?!” he blurted, speaking over Liam’s chuckle. “Have you been talking to Henry?”

Liam was silent for a long moment before responding, a bit of hesitance in his voice. “Actually, Elsa.”

“What?!” Killian was truly boggled. “When?!”

“We’ve been in touch a bit since I visited you last year,” Liam said briskly, clearly trying to change the subject - though Killian definitely filed it away for further discussion later. “Anyway, she sees the way you two moon about over each other as clearly as I do. We’re both a bit puzzled at why it’s taken this long for one of you to do something about it.”

“We’re friends,” Killian replied instantly. “She’s...my best friend, actually.”

“I’m going to pretend that doesn’t hurt, Kil,” Liam said dryly. “But truth be told, you wound me.”

“Git,” Killian replied.

“Wanker,” Liam answered, the laughter bleeding into his voice at their habitual sparring. After a brief pause during which Killian could hear him yawn, Liam spoke again, his tone more serious. “So, she’s your best friend. How long have you known her?”

“Four years. You know that, Liam.”

“Aye. You met her even before you fully moved there...it was when when you visited for your mate-”

“Robin’s wedding, yeah,” Killian cut in, unsure of where his brother was going with his trip down memory lane.

“Right - he married that mildly terrifying woman, didn’t he?”

“Regina - though I wouldn’t let Robin hear you say that,” Killian replied, impatient for Liam to cut to the chase. “What’s your point?”

“My point, little brother, is you’ve known Emma for a very long time...and you’ve each had a rough go of it. Life dealt both of you shit hands...and what’s always struck me about you both is that neither of you have ever let anything stop you from fighting for what’s important to you. Why should it be any different now, when what you want is each other?”

“You’re so certain she feels the same way?” Killian asked, afraid to let himself hope.

Liam sighed, but when he spoke again, his tone was gentler. “Elsa didn’t betray any of Emma’s specific confidences, but given what she did say...I don’t think you have to worry...and if it’s any consolation, from what I observed of you two myself when I was there, I’d say she’s right.”

Killian exhaled slowly. “It’s a big leap to make. I haven’t felt this way about anyone since…”

“Milah,” Liam finished for him. It wasn’t a question. Killian had fallen hard for Milah Clarke when he’d only been a few years into his naval career. Losing her in a car accident not long after the incident that had crushed his hand and ended his career had sent Killian reeling and it had taken him a long time - and no small amount of help from Liam - to pull himself out of his grief and heal.

“Yeah,” Killian replied. “So you can see why I’m terrified of screwing it up. I just...what if I tell her I want to be with her, and she says no?”

“Mm,” Liam hummed in agreement. “You’re forgetting one thing, little brother.”

“What?” Killian asked, pressing the phone tighter against his ear, as if he could absorb Liam’s words through sheer force of will.

“You’re not with her now, and if you never say anything there won’t even be a chance of that changing. Be brave, Kil. It’ll be worth it.”

Valentine’s Day - Mid-morning...

KJ: Alright. Operation The Writing’s On The Wall is a go!

HS: Excellent! And Killian?

KJ: Yes?

HS: I’m glad you decided to take the risk. :)

KJ: Me too, lad. Me too.

HS: Oh, and Killian...I think I’m gonna take a risk too.

KJ: ?

HS: I’m going to ask Violet to dance tonight at the school’s Valentine thing. Wish me luck!

KJ: Best of luck, Henry.

Killian sent the final text, pocketed his phone, and picked up the first can of spray paint, ready to enact the plan he and Henry had concocted during ad hoc “strategy sessions” at the bakery. The lad had been persistent - showing up at Second Star after school every day for a week with different pieces of “evidence” supporting his case. All that, plus Liam’s recent advice, had convinced Killian to take action.

Thus, Operation The Writing’s on The Wall had been born.

(The name had been Henry’s idea).

Henry had also opened up a bit during their conversations about his blossoming affections for one of his classmates, Violet Clemens. Killian was touched Henry had turned to him for advice, though given the state of his own romantic affairs, he wasn’t sure he’d been able to help him very much.

He still wasn’t sure this wouldn’t end in spectacular disaster. Though he’d known deep down for some time that he’d been falling in love with Emma, because of past hurts he’d been afraid to explore it. But he’d come to realize Henry and Liam were right, he couldn’t keep holding back the truth. No matter how this turned out, he had to at least try to tell her. He didn’t know if this was the best way, but Henry had convinced him if Emma were going to take his declaration seriously, he needed to get her attention in a big way.

When did I start taking romantic advice from a pre-teen? He thought with a shake of his head. Contemplating the stretch of blank wall in front of him he hefted the can, adjusting it slightly to get a better grip with his good hand. No matter. In for a penny, in for a pound…

He raised his arm and took a deep breath. As he exhaled, he let the paint fly in graceful arcs across the brick, nearly closing his eyes as he lost himself in the rhythm of the work.

If this works, it’ll all be worth it... 

Valentine’s Day - at night…

Emma shifted from foot to foot, cradling a warm pizza box in her arms and waiting impatiently for Killian to respond to her fervent knocking. After another moment or two had passed without any sign of him coming to let her in, she reached up and thumped on the door again. “C’mon, Jones!” she shouted for good measure. “The pizza’s getting cold...and so am I!!”

Finally, she heard shuffling footsteps coming down the hallway and the door to his seaside cottage swung slowly open. Killian grinned at her. “Evening, Swan. Patient as ever, I see.”

“Uggh,” she groaned, pushing past him with a good-natured bump of her shoulder against his. “I was freezing my ass off out there. Quite literally.”

He chuckled as he closed the door behind her. “Now, that would be a shame, it’s true.”

Her stomach swooped and she felt herself flush a little - to hide her reaction to his teasing, she turned and put the pizza box down on the kitchen island. Arching a brow at him. “I’d think you’d have a little more sympathy, especially considering I brought you pizza. Instead, you’re mocking me for falling prey to the vagaries of Maine winter weather.”

“Vagaries?” Killian asked, quirking his own eyebrow at her, he moved to the cabinet to get them plates. “Interesting word choice.”

She shrugged. “Hey, I do listen when you fancy-talk. Sometimes.”

He snorted and set the plates down next to the pizza. “How kind of you.”

“You know I try,” she said with a laugh before walking back to the entryway to hang up her coat. She paused as she passed back through the open plan living area, taking a moment to soak up the room’s coziness. It was one of Emma’s favorite places. An inviting, squishy-soft sofa faced a series of built in shelves crammed with books, knickknacks, and photos. The shelves flanked a squat fireplace lit with a warmly crackling fire. Killian’s television sat in one corner, and an armchair that matched the sofa was in another. Above the mantel hung a beautiful seascape that had been painted by Killian’s late mother, Alice.

(Apparently, Killian had taken after his mother artistically - though he’d long denied it, saying his talent never amounted to more than “doodling.” It frustrated Emma greatly that he’d never shown her much of his work).

When she returned to the kitchen, Killian had slipped two slices onto each of their plates and was rummaging around in his fridge for their beers. “So...what are we watching tonight?”

Killian handed her the plates, tucked a roll of paper towel under his left arm, and picked up the beers with his good hand, nodding in the direction of his television. “You can look over the selection yourself,” he murmured. “I had a bit of trouble deciding.”

“Really?” she asked, glancing over her shoulder at him as she moved to sit. “That’s not like you.”

He chuckled softly as he followed her and sat down on the other end of the sofa. “Yes, well,” he said, trading her one of the beer bottles for one of the plates of pizza. “Your list of off-limits movies was rather lengthy.”

She rolled her eyes. “I just didn’t want to be hit over the head for two hours with soppy romantic cliches. I get enough of those when I do movie night with Mary-Margaret. I’ve hit my quota for the year already, I think.”

“That is impressive, seeing as we’re only halfway through February,” he grinned, before taking a pull from his beer.

“Mm, well that’s Mary-Margaret for ya,” Emma concurred, leaning forward to look at the DVDs spread over the surface of the coffee table. There were action movies, a couple of selections from Marvel, and - predictably, where Killian was concerned - Star Wars. But a DVD set slightly apart from the others caught her eye. She grinned. Perfect. “Hmmm...how about that one?”

Killian nodded and got up to put Garden State in the player. They fell into a comfortable silence for a while, enjoying their pizza and beer, sometimes watching the movie and sometimes ignoring it in favor of trading their more colorful stories from the past week. (When Emma recounted the tale of her mysterious and artistic vandal, an odd expression flashed over Killian’s face, but it was gone and he was telling her about one of his amusing regulars at the bakery before she could process what had happened).

Around the point in the film when Zach Braff and Natalie Portman were standing on top of construction equipment at the bottom of a quarry and screaming their heads off, Killian glanced over at her, a soft smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. “How’d it go...getting Henry ready for the dance?”

She sighed and rolled her head to the side so she could look at him without sitting up from where she was slumped into the couch. He was closer than he’d been before - the two of them had gravitated into each other bit by bit during the course of the film. “You just had to bring that up, didn’t you? Part of the point of this movie night was to help me forget that for a while.”

He chuckled, shifting closer as he spoke. “C’mon now, Swan. Surely it couldn’t have been that bad.” He nudged her shoulder gently with his own. “It must have been at least a little bit exciting.”

Emma didn’t answer immediately, staring at the television without really seeing it. Finally, she nodded, albeit reluctantly. “It was...a bit...but also kinda terrifying...realizing he’s old enough to be excited about going to school dances.” She let herself lean further into Killian, dropping her head on his shoulder. Normally, she’d hold herself back more - casually touching him made her want things she was sure she couldn’t have, and she usually made sure to only do it in the smallest of doses - but tonight she just needed the comfort of his solid presence. “Is it horribly cliched if I say it felt like he was a toddler just a few days ago?”

“Not at all, Swan,” he murmured, curling his arm around her shoulders and pulling her further into his side. This is comfortable, she thought to herself. Dangerously so. But she couldn’t bring herself to pull away, soaking up Killian’s warmth as he continued. “It’s only natural you’d feel that way since the lad’s started showing an interest in dating and-”

She jerked upright, the motion causing his arm to fall away from her. But the flicker of regret she felt at that was mixed with a much larger dose of astonishment. “Dating? Who said anything about Henry dating?! Do you know something I don’t know? Killian, has he told you he likes someone?! Who?”

The apples of Killian’s cheeks flushed ever-so-slightly pink, which Emma secretly found adorable - but she pushed down the flip-flopping sensation in her stomach and waited him out. She needed answers about Henry too badly to think about how Killian somehow became even more handsome when he was flustered.

Finally, he spoke, tilting his head down and glancing up at her from under a slightly furrowed brow. “The lad...err...he does talk to me from time to time, Swan. Without betraying his trust, I can say there are...things...of a slightly romantic nature...that an almost-teenage boy doesn’t exactly want to share with his mother,” he said softly, reaching out to rest his left hand gently on her knee, “no matter how close the two of you may be.”

Emma considered that for a moment, swallowing down the nervous flutter caused partly by the thought of Henry taking his first steps (however tentative) into the world of dating, and partly by Killian’s proximity. She must have been lost in her thoughts for longer than she’d realized, because Killian had started speaking again, this time rather hesitantly.

“I...I do hope it’s alright he came to me Emma. You know I would have shared it with you - or urged Henry to do so himself - if I thought it were anything for you to be worried about. I hope I haven’t overstep-”

“No!” she cut him off, dropping her hand on top of his and interlacing their fingers. His eyes followed her action, seemingly transfixed by the way she’d reached for his injured hand without a second thought. “You didn’t - not at all. Killian,” she paused, waiting for him to look up at her before continuing. “I’m glad he feels he can talk to you about things like that...you have to know, I’m so glad he has you.”

“He does,” Killian agreed earnestly, his gaze never leaving hers. “You both do.”

Emma’s pulse picked up as the air around them thickened and grew warmer. Her mouth was suddenly dry and nothing could have torn her gaze away from Killian in that moment. For his part, he seemed equally transfixed, his eyes finally breaking from hers to flick down to her lips. Is he getting closer or is that me? Emma wondered. Maybe it’s both of us. Killian opened his mouth to speak again - to say what, she didn’t know - when suddenly her phone started ringing.

Craaaaaaaap.

-/-

Killian watched as Emma leapt off the couch, struggling to yank her phone out of her pocket before the caller hung up. She managed to answer it just in time, mouthing sorry at him before disappearing into his kitchen to take the call.

He flopped into the cushions with a sigh before scrubbing his hand through his hair. How the bloody hell did that happen?! One minute they’d been having a totally normal movie night, and the next they were bang in the middle of what had felt like some sort of relationship changing moment. Almost. The truly boggling thing was that they had reached that point, but not at all in the way Killian had anticipated.

Of course, if you’d gotten over your own nerves and eased into declaring your feelings the way you’d planned, things might have been very different right about now...one way or another.

Glancing over the back of the couch, Killian could see Emma pacing around the kitchen with increasing speed, her phone still glued to her ear. She was gesturing emphatically with her free hand, the tone of her voice rising in pitch. Though he couldn’t really make out what she was saying, he had no trouble catching it when she semi-growled “are you fucking kidding me, David?!”

Killian wasn’t sure whether he was grateful or disappointed that it seemed their evening were coming to an abrupt and unexpected end. The ache of his as-yet unconfessed feelings mingled unpleasantly with relief that he hadn’t done something to utterly screw up their friendship.

“Hey, I’m so sorry, but I’ve gotta run,” Emma said, striding back into the living area, her words pulling him from his reverie. “You would not believe what I’m going to have to go deal with.”

Killian got to his feet, following her towards the entryway. He leaned against the wall, watching her bundle herself back into her coat. “Scarlet?” he guessed. She nodded. “What’s he done now, then?”

She whirled to face him, her expression a picture of exasperation. “Disturbed the peace, for one. He had the oh-so-brilliant idea that serenading his ex on Valentine’s Day would be the best way to get her back. It seems that neither she, or her new girlfriend, agreed.”

“Oh dear,” Killian said with feigned sympathy, his eyebrow quirking up. “That is unfortunate.”

“Yeah,” Emma grumbled. “Ana’s neighbors didn’t take too kindly to it either, as he decided he was going to stand under her window and belt out love songs for half an hour. David’s still on scene taking statements. I get the fun job of picking Scarlet up at the hospital and arresting him once they’re done treating him.”

“What?”

“Oh, yeah...the best part is I’m also going to have to charge him with public indecency. He decided the perfect way to carry out his plan was dressed as Cupid.”

“In Maine? In February?!” Killian asked incredulously. “What was he thinking?!”

Emma shoved her beanie back down over her curls. “Who the hell knows what, or if, he’s ever thinking. Apparently, his...loincloth or whatever...was very, um, skimpy. David mentioned they’re worried about frostbite.”

“Jesus,” Killian muttered, “I actually almost feel sorry for him.”

“Yeah,” Emma nodded. “I guess his heart was in the right place...but some guys are just not cut out for grand romantic gestures. Anyway,” she looked up at him, her gaze unmistakably tinged with regret, “I’m sorry I’ve gotta cut our movie night short, especially for this nonsense...but I’d better get a move on.”

“Don’t worry about it, Swan,” he said. “I understand - duty calls. Maybe we can get lunch this week.”

“I’d like that,” she said with a soft smile before turning to leave, her reluctance to go sparking a fresh wave of hope that perhaps he wasn’t alone in his feelings.

He shivered in the burst of cold air that swept in when she opened the door, watching her go and raising a hand to wave as she jogged down the walkway towards her car.

As the door swung shut, he leaned against it, his head falling against the wood with a thunk. He scrubbed a hand over his face and back into his hair, sighing heavily.

The plan - at least this part of it - had been simple. Movie night with Emma had already been on tap before he and Henry had concocted their “operation.” Whereas Henry had argued for boldly taking romantic action, Killian had thought highlighting the familiar would be comforting - he’d theorized it would put Emma at ease.

So this had been the compromise - dramatic romantic graffiti to get her attention, and then a quiet night in where he’d reveal that he was the artist and then tell her he was more than halfway to being in love with her. Simple, right? It had proved to be anything but. He sighed again and pushed himself off the door when something Emma had said suddenly struck him. A grin spread across his face, a new version of the plan beginning to take form in his mind.

Scarlet might not be able to pull off a grand romantic gesture...but I certainly can.

February 22 - Mid-Afternoon…

“I take it you know Kristoff finally proposed?” Elsa asked, her expression discernibly wry even through their less-than-stellar Skype connection.

“Um, yeah,” Emma laughed. “If the approximately thirty texts Anna sent me over the past week hadn’t given it away, Ingrid came around the other day to share the news.”

“And to gently probe about your own love life, right?” Elsa arched a knowing eyebrow.

“Let me guess, she called you?” It wasn’t really a question. Emma knew her adoptive mother well, and she’d been expecting her visit from the moment Anna had sent her first exclamation point riddled text. It wasn’t hard to fathom Ingrid would have contacted Elsa too.

When she’d been bouncing her way through the foster system as a kid, Emma hadn’t imagined someone like Ingrid Fisher - a fierce and protective foster mother who hadn’t given up on her even when she’d run away, met Neal, and come back to Storybrooke pregnant and alone. Ingrid had adopted Emma as well as Elsa and Anna (her two orphaned nieces) and had never looked back. It hadn’t always been easy, but eventually the four of them had become the family Emma’d never dared to let herself dream of - something she was grateful for every day.

“Yup,” Elsa confirmed with a sigh. “She was fairly disappointed to hear that work’s been keeping me so busy lately. She hid it pretty well, though. I’ll give her credit.”

“Mm,” Emma hummed in agreement. “I got pretty much the same reaction when I told her I’m more focused on figuring out Henry’s love life than my own right now.”

Elsa laughed before catching herself. “Wait a minute, are you serious? Henry has a love life? When did that happen?”

“I’m not really sure,” Emma’s brow furrowed, and she reached for the cup of cocoa sitting on the kitchen table. “He hasn’t really said too much to me about it - I only found out because Killian spilled the beans when I was over at his place last week.” She took a sip of cocoa. “Apparently, Henry’s been talking to him about someone at school that he likes, and he came home from the Valentine’s dance with a goofy grin and a friendship bracelet I’ve never seen before. I’ve tried to give him his space, but…”

“I’m sure he’ll tell you more when he’s ready, Em,” Elsa reassured. “You know you’ve got a good kid there.”

“A great one,” Emma agreed. “I just...I don’t want to pull an Ingrid on him, but...I guess I’m understanding how she feels a bit more. It’s tough when your kid gets their first real crush - he’s growing up faster than I can deal with.”

Elsa looked at her sympathetically for a moment. “If anyone can make it through the terrible tween years, it’s going to be you and Henry, Emma.”

“I know. I do. Really.” She smiled at her adoptive sister gratefully. She was still a bit rattled by Henry’s burgeoning romance and the fact he didn’t seem to want to share too much about it with her, but talking with Elsa always had a way of calming her down and making her see things more clearly. “Anyway...I know you must want to hear about all the crazy things you’ve missed out on here this past week.”

Elsa laughed. “True. I know that Anna’s engagement can’t have been the only big news. I need my weekly dose of Storybrooke gossip.”

Emma spent the next forty-five minutes filling Elsa in on the happenings of their small hometown, and listening as Elsa related the news of her week in Boston. She missed her sister deeply, but was so proud of her for pursuing her legal career even though it had taken her away from home. Weekly phone or video calls were their way of staying close even when they couldn’t be in the same space and Emma cherished them.

She was just wrapping up telling Elsa about the absolute insanity that was the ongoing Will Scarlet saga when a thoughtful expression crossed Elsa’s face. “What’s that look for?”

Elsa hesitated, then looked directly at Emma, her gaze piercing even through the computer screen. “You said earlier you were at Killian’s last week, and you just mentioned you were at his place when you had to go take care of Scarlet. Did you and Killian spend Valentine’s Day together?”

“Oh,” Emma was caught short, not having expected that. “Um...kind of.”

“Kind of? What exactly does that mean, Emma?”

“You sound like Ingrid,” Emma grumbled, putting her now nearly empty mug down and crossing her arms over her stomach.

“Emma,” Elsa chided, leveling her with a look that demanded answers more effectively than anything she could have said.

“It was a movie night. Just like every movie night we’ve ever had since we’ve been friends. Nothing else,” she replied, though she couldn’t meet Elsa’s eyes.

“Huh,” Elsa responded. “Then why are you blushing and not able to look at me?”

“Jeez! Are you this persistent in court?” Emma muttered.

“Yes,” Elsa replied calmly. “Especially when I know I’m on to something. ”

“Oh my God, El!” Emma exclaimed, finally locking eyes with her. “It was a normal movie night - it was,” she reiterated at Elsa’s skeptical look, “but then...it got a little weird.”

“In what way?”

Emma shrugged. “We started talking about Henry...that’s when I found out he’s been talking to Killian about dating...and things got a little...emotional. Killian said something about always being there for both of us and...wealmostkissed,” she finished, speeding through the last few words before she chickened out.

Elsa looked thoughtful, but not surprised. “Don’t you think this invalidates your argument?”

“Huh?” She stared at her sister in confusion.

“What we were talking about at New Year’s,” Elsa said matter-of-factly. “When you claimed you couldn’t tell Killian you were in love with him because he absolutely and positively only saw you as a good friend. Seems like that’s not so much the case, is it? I mean,” she continued, “he was about to kiss you too, right?”

Emma nodded weakly. “Yeah,” she murmured.

“Oh, Emma,” Elsa sighed ”I hate to see you so twisted up about this. You’ve got to tell Killian how you feel.”

The two women simply stared at each other for a moment, Emma spoke. “What if I’m wrong though?” she asked quietly. “Or what if he does want something more too, but it doesn’t work out? He’s one of my best friends. I can’t lose him,” she finished, emotion rendering her voice little more than a whisper.

Elsa regarded Emma candidly. “First, anybody who sees the two of you together can tell how much you care about each other. When I was back home for Christmas the amount of heart eyes the two of you were making at each other was off the charts. Plus, you spent most of Ruby’s Christmas party glued to each other’s sides.” Elsa chuckled. “You’re almost more coupley than David and Mary-Margaret.”

“No one is more coupley than David and Mary-Margaret,” Emma shot back instinctively, a hint of a smile finally breaking through the tension that gripped her.

“That may be true,” Elsa conceded, “but the two of you looked pretty darn together for people who aren’t actually dating. Liam agrees with me, by the way,” she finished before her eyes widened and she clapped her hand over her mouth.

“Oh he does, does he?” Emma queried, noting that Elsa suddenly looked like she wanted to slide off her chair and out of sight. “Just how long have you two been comparing notes?”

Elsa straightened, shaking her head firmly. “Oh no...no deflecting. This is not about me.”

“Hm, countering my deflecting with evasion,” Emma mused. “That means it’s been at least a few months. Oh!” she brightened, a thought striking her. “I bet it’s been since his last visit here - you were home then for Ingrid’s birthday. Is he the real reason you’ve not had time for dating lately?”

“Emma!” Elsa said sharply, a pink blush staining her normally pale cheeks. “I will tell you all about it. Later. I promise. Right now, this is about you, and you have to remember a couple of important things.”

“I’m listening,” she murmured.

“As you yourself said, Killian is one of your best friends...and he’s Killian. Do you really think if you tried being together and - for whatever inconceivable reason - it didn’t work out, he’d just cut you out of his life? You know him better than that, Emma. That man is as loyal as they come.”

Emma pondered her sister’s words. Elsa did have a point - Killian wasn’t the sort of person who would just cut her, or Henry, out of his life if a romantic relationship between them flamed out. She thought back over their friendship - meeting him four years ago when he’d flown over for Regina’s wedding to a childhood friend of his, and re-meeting him when he’d moved back to Storybrooke to start his bakery. Graham had died in the year in between the first and second times she’d met Killian, turning Emma’s life upside down.

But Killian had been just who she’d so desperately needed back then - her other friends had all been too concerned, too worried, too much. Killian hadn’t been a total stranger, but he’d been enough of an unknown quantity that being around him had been peaceful, a way of escaping the sometimes smothering shared history she had with all the people in her life who’d known and loved Graham too. Killian had slowly revealed his own hurts and losses, and his reasons for wanting a fresh start in a fresh country. Gradually their friendship had deepened, taking on a life of its own beyond comparing the battle wounds life had given them. He’d become her rock - and over this last year, she’d realized friendship just wasn’t enough to encompass everything he meant to her. She knew it was a cliche, but she’d gone and fallen into the deep end of love with her best friend.

Cautiously, she nodded. “You may have a point,” she acknowledged. “You said there were a couple of things, though. What was the other one?”

“You already love him, Em. You’ve admitted as much to me a few different times. Those feelings haven’t gone away, have they?”

Emma shook her head. “You know they haven’t.”

“Exactly. So things between you are already different because you have made that leap - in your heart, at least. You can’t unfeel what you feel...If you tell him, either you’ll be able to work through it and let it go, or the more likely thing will happen.”

“Which is?”

“You’ll be ridiculously and disgustingly happy together and unseat the Nolans for the Cutest Couple in Storybrooke title,” Elsa finished triumphantly.

Emma rolled her eyes, but her smile grew. “That is not possible. They’ve reigned for too long. Buuuuut...I think you’re right about the rest of it.”

“I know I am.”

Emma hesitated for a moment. “I’m scared, El.”

“Of what, exactly?” her sister asked, patience coloring her tone.

Emma had the feeling Elsa knew what she was going to say, but Emma forced herself to speak anyway. “I can’t lose him the way I lost Graham.”

Elsa was silent for a few moments. When she finally spoke her tone was serious, and her question, once again, was unexpected. “Do you regret being with Graham?”

“No!” Emma’s responded instantly. “But losing him was horrible and Killian...I know it’s not fair to compare them...but he means even more to me. I don’t know how I’d cope if we were together and he…”

Elsa nodded. “If you’d known what was going to happen, would you still have gotten involved with Graham?”

Emma sighed. “Of course. I’d never trade the time we had together.”

“I thought you’d say that,” Elsa said, her tone slightly smug. “So why wouldn’t that be true for you and Killian too?” Emma looked up to find her sister smiling at her through the screen. “The prosecution rests,” she said with a grin.

“Very clever, counselor,” Emma said with begrudging admiration.

“Thank you. Now, what are you going to do about Killian?”

Emma sighed again. “I don’t know. I’ve got to think of the right way to bring it up.”

“Well, personally I’d suggest blurting it at him and then tackle-kissing him,” Elsa teased.

Emma laughed, the tension starting to leave her body. “Just because that worked for Anna and Kristoff, doesn’t mean it’s going to work for me.”

“I know,” Elsa replied. “But whatever you decide to do...don’t wait too long. For both your sakes.”

February 23 - Early morning…

Emma left the house feeling upbeat, her conversation with Elsa the day before having instilled a new sense of determination in her to finally, finally talk to Killian about her feelings.

That determination lasted all of twenty minutes, and fizzled out abruptly when she approached Second Star after dropping Henry off at school. She’d planned on walking right into the bakery, grabbing her usual order, and confidently asking Killian if he wanted to get dinner that evening - somewhere other than Granny’s. Then at dinner she would tell him - she’d spent a lot of time the night before figuring out the best way to ease into it - and hope that Elsa was right and it wouldn’t ruin their friendship.

But as she walked up to the bakery, admiring the way the warm light from inside spilled out its wide front windows into the gray wintry bleakness of the overcast day, her steps slowed and then stopped.

What if Elsa’s wrong? It’s not like this is a gigantic town - we won’t be able to avoid each other...maybe this is a mistake. Being friends is good. It’s enough.

Except the moment she spotted Killian through the windows, emerging from the back room with a tray of freshly baked muffins, the warmth that shot through her system and the fluttering feeling that burst to life in her belly proved her a liar.

You can do this, Emma.

With that final internal pep talk, she closed the remaining distance to the bakery and pushed inside. The bell over the door jangled merrily as she entered and Killian’s gaze followed the sound. As soon as his eyes caught hers, he grinned. “Why Swan, to what do I owe this pleasure? I thought you were covering the early shift this morning.”

“I am,” she replied, “but you know me...the earlier I have to go in, the more I want bear claws to offset the pain of doing paperwork. Care to help a girl out?”

“You know it, Swan,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows ridiculously as his tongue darted out to wet his lips. Emma fought the urge to moisten her own in response, biting her bottom lip instead. Killian moved towards the front case and grabbed a couple of the biggest bear claws, dropping them into a light blue bag emblazoned with the Second Star logo and handing them to her. “Should still be warm - I put them out just a few minutes ago.”

“Thanks,” she said softly, swallowing hard. This is it - now or never, Emma. “Hey listen, I was wondering if you were free-”

Before she could finish, the door swung open with such force its bell didn’t just ring, it nearly flew off. A gust of icy wind followed the entrance of a statuesque and elegantly dressed redhead who made a beeline for the counter without sparing a glance at Emma or bothering to close the door. “There you are, Killian darling!” she exclaimed in a lightly accented voice. “I’m just bursting with news!”

Emma felt her eyebrows shoot up in surprise. He glanced in her direction briefly before responding to the other woman. “Good morning, Zelena,” he said quietly. “Lovely to see you again. Give me just a moment and I can give you my undivided attention.”

The woman - Zelena, Emma mentally corrected - whirled around, noticing Emma for the first time. A smile, bright but tinged with something a bit frightening around the edges, lit up her face before she turned back to Killian. “Alright,” she practically purred, “but don’t keep me waiting too long.” With that, she brushed past Emma and moved towards the corner table, gracefully sinking down into one of the chairs and pulling out her phone.

Emma looked at Killian, whose attention was still on the woman in the corner. She had no idea who this woman was or why she was treating Killian with such familiarity, but suffice it to say that the big moment she’d been gearing herself up for was gone. Gesturing to the door, Emma broke the brief silence that had fallen between them. “I, uh, actually do have to get going,” she said, “but I’ll text you later, alright?”

What looked like disappointment flickered across Killian’s face, and he opened his mouth to say something, but Zelena piped up, her voice piercing the silence. “Whatever you’re doing tonight, cancel it,” she said, her words clearly aimed at Killian. “We’re going to need to celebrate and I’ve got just the place in mind.”

Suddenly, Emma couldn’t stand being in the bakery for one more moment. Barely meeting Killian’s eyes, she muttered a quick goodbye and stepped out into the coldness of the day, the freezing air seemingly penetrating her heart instantly. She thought she heard him call her name, but didn’t stop or look back. She was finding it hard to draw breath and emotions she refused to name had tears pricking at the corners of her eyes.

There’s probably a rational explanation. Killian would have told you if he were seeing someone new, she tried to reassure herself. Wouldn’t he?

The uncertainty followed her all the way to the station, and she had trouble concentrating for most of the morning. She was actually grateful for the call that came in just before lunch. It seemed the artistic vandal had struck again, this time down at the Cannery.

Thankful for anything to take her mind off Killian, she picked up her radio, let David know they had a case, and headed for the docks.

-/-

As Emma bolted from the bakery, not even stopping when he called after her, Killian’s heart sank. He’d been so glad to see her, but Zelena’s somewhat unexpected appearance and ill-timed interjections had thrown everything off. He needed the large contract she was offering him - supplying baked goods for the local chain of B&Bs she owned with her partner would have a huge impact on his business - but he wished she’d shown up at literally any other time.

Turning back to her after it was clear Emma was truly gone, he mustered up a smile and agreed to meet Zelena and her partner, Cruella, at a quiet restaurant near the waterfront that evening to sign the contract and - as she put it - “celebrate properly.” As soon as they’d confirmed their dinner plans, she whirled back out the door in a flurry of red curls and a cloud of expensive perfume. He was momentarily frozen in place as he processed the events of the morning before shaking himself out of his stupor.

Before he could meet Zelena he had to finish setting out the rest of the items he’d already baked that morning, and in the afternoon he and his head bakery assistant, William Smee, had to start on several special order cakes. But first, he had a very important errand to run. He finished putting the muffins into the front case and headed back to the kitchen.

“Smee,” he said loudly in an attempt to get the other man to look up from where he was piping thin streams of melted chocolate in elaborate shapes onto waxed paper. Smee didn’t respond and Killian belatedly realized he’d popped headphones in. “Smee,” he repeated more loudly, tapping him on the shoulder. Smee startled, smudging one of the chocolate designs with the side of his hand.

“Oh dammit,” Smee muttered, dropping the piping bag on the counter and reaching for a rag. Pulling his headphones off, he glanced up at Killian. “Was that really necessary?”

“Sorry,” Killian replied, “but I need to head out a bit earlier than planned for that errand. Wendy should be in soon to cover the front, but can you finish setting everything else out and keep an eye out in case there are customers before she gets here? I’ll be back after lunch and we’ll get going on the first of those orders.”

Smee nodded. “Sure thing, boss. Hey, would you mind bringing back-”

“A tuna melt on rye and a double order of fries?” Killian guessed, and Smee nodded again. “Not a problem. See you in a bit.”

Killian took off his apron and hung it on a peg by the back door before grabbing his jacket, keys, and a satchel filled with several canisters of spray paint. Pulling his hat out of his jacket pocket, he tugged it down over his ears as he shouldered the door open and stepped out into the cold, crisp air. Walking down the alleyway that ran behind Second Star, he moved with purpose in the direction of the waterfront.

He was about to take the next step in his plan to court Emma - he only hoped it worked.

-/-

Emma stared at the back wall of the Storybrooke Cannery, her mouth slightly open in awe. Writing scrolled across the entire back wall of the building in looping, elegant lines. She’d not been immediately familiar with it, but a quick websearch had revealed it was part of a Shakespearean sonnet.

Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,

But bears it out even to the edge of doom.

She gazed at the words - lines of green and gold boxed them in like a frame - for a moment longer. There was something vaguely familiar about the swoop and swirl of the writing, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on where she’d seen it before. She turned to Eric Prince, the Cannery’s day shift supervisor, with a frown. “You’re sure no one saw who did this?”

Eric shrugged. “The first shift was in full swing and all my guys were on the line - it’s pretty quiet back here unless it’s lunchtime or shift change.”

Emma nodded. “Of course,” she said, feeling a bit defeated that once again she had nothing to go on. “Do you want to press charges when we find who did this?”

Eric looked at her, then up at the graffiti. “That’s not really up to me - I kind of like it. But you’re going to have to ask the owner.”

Emma sighed. Talking to old Mr. Svendsen, whose family had run the Cannery practically since Storybrooke had first existed, was not high on her list. (He was a sweet man, but getting on in years and notoriously hard of hearing - conversations with him tended to last forever and she just did not have the time). Still, she knew she had to see this through. “Alright,” she said. “Is he in his office?”

“Uh, yep.” Eric turned towards the building and Emma followed him inside.

Emma found, after a roughly half hour conversation, that Mr. Svendsen didn’t want was to press charges. He apparently liked the graffiti, and decided it gave the building a nice change of pace.

Shaking her head as she stepped back outside, she turned to look at the graffiti once more. “I’ve got to be missing something here,” she muttered. “Twice in a month? In this town? It’s got to be the same person...but no one wants to press charges. I don’t get it.”

“Talking to yourself, Emma? That’s not good,” David said with a grin as he came around the corner of the building.

“Ha ha,” Emma rolled her eyes. “I’m just frustrated this has happened again and we’re no closer to figuring out who’s behind it than we were the first time - and that the building owner doesn’t want to press charges this time either. I mean, it is a crime.”

“Well,” David said thoughtfully, “I see your point...but this isn’t the worst thing we’ve had to deal with on the job. It’s actually kinda romantic, isn’t it?”

“Not you too!” she cried, throwing up her hands in disbelief. “That’s practically the same thing that Eric and Svendsen said.”

“Well maybe we’re onto something,” he said with a grin, falling into step beside her as she headed back towards the cruiser.

“It’s more like you all have some kind of Valentine’s hangover,” she grumbled. “We’re supposed to enforce the law, David, not admire the work of vandals.”

“I know that,” he said jovially. “But we can’t do anything if the owners don’t want to press charges...besides, you’ve got to admit, that,” he pointed over his shoulder at the graffiti, “is not just vandalism...whoever’s doing this is really good.”

“I guess,” she conceded, though privately she did agree with David. “Still wish we had some clue to go on though.”

David looked at her thoughtfully as they got in the cruiser and backed out of the parking lot. “I think that’s the real root of the problem.”

“What is?”

“It’s not that this is - technically - a crime that’s bothering you,” he replied. “You’re more upset you can’t figure out who did it.”

Emma was silent for a moment before she groaned. “Okay. Yes. Fine. There are no real clues and no one will press charges so I feel like it’d be kind of pathetic if I keep investigating anyway, and the not knowing is driving me nuts, I’ll admit it. Okay?!”

“As long as you admit it,” David said, trying - and failing - to muffle his laughter.

“You are impossible,” she said, doing her best to inject a glare into her tone since she couldn’t take her eyes off the road long enough to actually look at him.

“Yeah, but I put up with you, so…”

“You’re just asking for it, aren’t you Nolan?” she replied, teasingly. “Well, just for that, you’re buying lunch,” she said as she parked near Granny’s.

They got out and headed towards the diner, David grumbling good-naturedly. As they reached the steps, the door swung open. Before Emma knew it, she was face to face with a slightly harried looking Killian.

After their encounter at Second Star earlier in the morning, Emma had hoped to have a bit more time to process her jumbled thoughts and emotions - but as she’d been actively trying to avoid thinking about how awkward it had been, she hadn’t actually dealt with anything she’d been feeling.

All of which led to more awkwardness now. They stared silently at each other for what felt like an absurdly long amount of time. Killian recovered more quickly, breaking their shared gaze and looking down at his feet for a moment before glancing back up at her. “Swan, I’m glad I bumped into you. You left so quickly this morning, I never got to explain-”

“You don’t have to explain anything,” Emma cut in, acutely aware of the fact they were standing in Granny’s open doorway and David was only a couple of feet behind her. “I had to get to work, you had plans to make. We’re both adults,” she said, dropping her voice so David couldn’t overhear her. “Not everything we do has to revolve around each other’s schedule.”

She’d been aiming for breezy and unaffected, but her tone must have come off as slightly bitter, because Killian flinched before plastering on a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Right, of course. I know that, but I rather enjoy spending time with you, Swan...and I’d hoped you did too,” he muttered, before raising his voice to a more normal pitch and addressing both her and David. “Got to head back now. Smee gets disgruntled if I don’t feed him regularly,” he joked, lightly shaking the bag of food he had clutched in his hand.

He brushed past her gently, giving her one last fleeting, emotion-filled glance before heading down the steps. She didn’t have time to react before he was gone and David was urging her inside.

She muddled her way through lunch, only half paying attention to David’s theories about the art vandal and his stories about what he and Mary-Margaret had done last weekend. She responded in the appropriate places, but part of her attention was elsewhere.

She was still thinking about Killian when they headed back to the station for the rest of their shift. As they walked into the office, Emma’s phone buzzed. Fishing it out, she was a bit nervous to see a text from Killian. But when she read it, the tension she’d unconsciously been carrying leached out of her body and a smile spread across her face.

KJ: Sorry if I was a bit rude when I saw you earlier, Swan. Big business dinner tonight - that slightly scary woman you met this morning is a new client who’s been keeping me on my toes.

She breathed a sigh of relief, which was quickly followed by a cringe of embarrassment - she couldn’t believe she’d been so ready to be jealous of someone who turned out to be a client of Killian’s. She was the one who owed Killian an apology for acting so strangely that morning - but she couldn’t really apologize without explaining why she’d been out of sorts in the first place, and confessing your undying love for your best friend over text message just seemed unbearably like something out of one of Mary-Margaret’s beloved rom coms.

ES: Nothing to apologize for - I was the one who got kinda short with you. Sorry about that, btw. Hope all goes well tonight. Tell me all about it soon. Lunch tomorrow?

His affirmative response came back nearly instantaneously, and Emma smiled. Her day was suddenly looking up, and tomorrow she’d have another chance to try to change things for the better between her and Killian. This time, she wouldn’t screw it up.

Late February-Early June…

Emma didn’t screw up that second chance with Killian - but it wasn’t due to any great show of bravery on her part.

Their lunch the day after their awkward encounter at Granny’s had been interrupted by Leroy, one of the workers at the town’s mine, getting into a fight with a group of bikers. Emma had had to dash out of the diner mid-lunch, apologizing profusely to Killian. He’d understood and they’d agreed to try for a movie night the following week.

But then Henry’d come down with the flu and Emma’d spent two weeks taking care of him and all thoughts of movie nights - and confessing feelings - were strictly off the table. When Henry was finally feeling better, it was Killian’s turn to be less available. The Easter season was always busy at Second Star, and ever since he’d signed the contract to be the main bakery supplier for Zelena and Cruella’s local chain of inns, he’d been flooded with work. He’d had to hire and train two new bakers just to keep up with the orders for the inns so he and Smee could focus on the rest of the bakery’s pre-existing workload.

In the middle of all of that, Elsa had spontaneously visited for Ingrid’s birthday in late April, and, in a move that pretty much confirmed Emma’s suspicions about the two of them, Liam had turned up for an extended vacation around the same time - he’d stayed until almost the middle of May. Killian had been grateful to have the time with his brother (not to mention another set of hands in the bakery - the pair of them had practically been raised in their aunt and uncle’s bakery in England. Liam was almost as skilled as Killian, even if he’d not pursued baking as a career), but by the time Liam had headed back home to London the spring had flown by.

Emma also had been pursuing the artistic vandal all over town. In March, the side wall of the flower shop, Game of Thorns, was painted with “If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more,” from Jane Austen’s Emma. April saw the convent’s garden retaining wall get decorated with a portrait of a woman. Her face was mostly hidden, but her long golden hair seemed to float on an invisible breeze and her arm was outstretched. Most striking of all, she held a vibrant crimson heart in her hand.

In May, the artist (Emma had finally given up on calling him a vandal) was back to Shakespeare. This time it was a quote from Much Ado About Nothing - “I were but little happy if I could say how much. Lady, as you are mine, I am yours” - covering the sidewalk in front of the middle school. The words were outlined and embellished with golden flourishes, and followed by a pair of clasped hands, the fingers interlaced. Something familiar about that image tugged at the back of Emma’s brain, but it refused to cohere into a usable clue.

Emma was still frustrated she couldn’t uncover the artist’s identity - particularly since after the art at Game of Thorns and the convent, it had become clear that whoever this artist was, they intended these messages for her. A little voice in the back of her mind had wondered - at first - if she should be creeped out by that.

But there was just something about this art that was familiar. It made her feel warm and safe, as though the artist’s emotions were bleeding through the work, reaching out, and wrapping around her. It made her feel cherished - she couldn’t bring herself to take a cynical view of it. After several pieces had appeared around town, she created a photo array of them all at the station, and spent far too many hours staring at them when she should have been working.

(If a little voice in the back of her head insisted it was Killian...well, she chalked it up to her own wishful thinking and forced herself to set the thoughts aside).

The last several months had also wrought a difference in her relationship with Killian. Though they’d never really talked about the Valentine’s Day Near Kissing Incident, and the circumstances of their hectic lives had kept Emma from making another serious attempt to discuss her feelings with him, things had slowly and subtly shifted between them.

In the few times they’d been able to spend any significant time together over the past few months, they’d been far more tactile - Killian curling an arm around her shoulder at Ingrid’s birthday party, Emma looping her arm through his as they strolled through the park, his hand on the small of her back as they listened to Liam tell stories about his work, and on and on.

They were almost testing the waters of couplehood without explicitly discussing it - afraid if they examined what they were doing too closely, they wouldn’t have the courage to actually keep doing it.

Emma wasn’t sure what had prompted it, but she was definitely enjoying it - it had made her even more hopeful that when she finally got a damn moment to make her confession, it would be well-received.

But she was beaten to the punch before she could ever put her newfound resolve to the test.

First Saturday in June…

“Hey Mom?” Henry’s voice preceded him down the stairs of their apartment, his heavy footfalls thunking from his room to the kitchen where Emma was sitting at the table enjoying her morning coffee and flipping through the Storybrooke Mirror.

“Yeah, kid?” she replied, looking up as he plopped himself down across from her.

“Could we go to the library today? Like, soon-ish? There’s a couple of books I need for a project, and uh...I really need Belle’s help finding them,” he said, fidgeting as he waited for her reply.

“Why’s it so urgent?” she asked, raising a brow expectantly. She had a feeling that she knew what was coming - she just needed Henry to say it.

“I, uh, didn’t exactly start it as soon as I should and...I can get it done in time, don’t worry!” he reassured her, “but I need to go pick up these books today if I’m going to make it happen,” he said, flashing her his best i’m-cute-and-usually-better-prepared-than-this-so-please-don’t-punish-me-for-leaving-homework-till-the-last-minute-just-this-once grin.

After holding his stare for a moment, Emma shook her head and laughed under her breath. “Sure kid.” She had no doubt Henry would create something amazing, and it really wasn’t like him to leave things late, so she wasn’t worried it would become a habit. “But why do you need me to go? Usually, you head down there on your own.”

“Yeah,” Henry agreed, “but I was kinda hoping we could go to Granny’s for pancakes after.”

“Ahhh, now the truth is revealed,” Emma laughed. She pretended to think for a moment, but really, Henry had gotten to her the moment he’d said pancakes. “Alright, kid. Let’s go.” 

-/-

Emma should’ve suspected something was up when - after they’d finally left the library and headed for the diner- she started getting slightly strange looks from the townsfolk. Everyone was smiling at her, and a few people gave her a thumbs up - most disturbingly, Leroy winked at her.

Shrugging it off and following Henry into Granny’s, she noticed her son was absorbed in his phone, texting with dizzying speed. “What’s up?” she questioned as they slid into a booth.

“Huh?” he looked up for a moment before his phone buzzed and he was engrossed again. “Oh, um, it’s just Avery...we’re trying to figure out plans for tomorrow. He was asking if I could come over for the afternoon. Can I, please?”

“Maybe. If you get that project finished first, okay. Do that and then we’ll talk.”

“That’s fair,” Henry said with a grin as the waitress arrived at their table.

“I’m glad you think so,” Emma said with a chuckle. They ordered and spent the time waiting for their pancakes to arrive chatting about what Henry had done in school the prior week and some of the plans they’d already been making for his summer vacation (which, according to Henry, couldn’t start soon enough).

It wasn’t until Emma was paying their bill that Henry’s phone started buzzing again. He looked at it briefly and fired off a text before they headed out the door. As they descended Granny’s front steps, Henry spoke again. “Mom, do you mind if we walk home by the park?”

“Yeah, sure...You still need to get to your homework as soon as we get home, but I don’t see why not as long as we don’t stay too long,” she agreed. “It’ll help work off the mountain of pancakes we just inhaled.” They turned in the direction of the park, enjoying the warm breeze and dappled sunlight as it fell through the trees lining the wide streets.

Though Emma began to regret agreeing to Henry’s suggestion as even more passers-by shot odd looks and smiles her way. Seriously, what is UP with everyone today?!

She didn’t have much longer to wonder. As they approached the park, Emma saw her name, painted in large, looping curls and swoops, stretching across the sidewalk in front of the main entrance gate. An arrow, outlined in gold, pointed down the walkway leading away from the gate, and she could just make out the clustered shapes of several hearts a few feet beyond that. “What?” she asked, dumbstruck. “Henry, did you know this would be here?” she glanced back at her son, who had stopped a few feet behind her.

Well, this certainly explains all the strange looks.

“Uh, maybe?” he replied sheepishly, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Yes, kinda,” he corrected. “Okay, yes.”

“Wait a minute,” she turned back to face him. “Do you know who’s been behind this? Have you known the whole time?”

“Look, Mom...but don’t you want to find out who’s at the other end of that path?” he asked. “I’m going to head home and get started on my project, and,” he continued, seeing she had opened her mouth to interject, “I’ve asked Mary-Margaret to come around and keep an eye on me - so don’t worry. I’ll be fine. Go!” he smiled at her encouragingly and shooed her towards the park entrance.

“Don’t think you’re getting out of telling me every single thing later, Henry David Swan,” she warned, though the grin tugging at the corner of her mouth made her words far less stern than she’d intended. He nodded and took off down the street as she turned back to the park entrance.

She gazed at her name again for a moment before stepping into the park and onto the path. As she followed the arrow to the cluster of hearts, her pulse accelerated and a sense of nervous excitement settled over her. A little further into the park, the path diverged and she looked around in momentary confusion before spotting more words painted on the left-hand path, the one leading towards the gazebo in the center of the park.

“This is it. This is life...” she murmured aloud, reading along with the words. There was something vaguely familiar about the phrasing - it tugged at her memory, and she must have recognized it on some subconscious level, because her pulse kicked up even further.

She followed the path a bit further and saw more words painted on the old, cracking asphalt.

“...And I'm in love with you...I think that's the only thing I've ever really been sure of in my entire life…” she whispered, again reading along with the text. Another group of hearts and another golden arrow followed that part of the quote, which she now recognized was from Garden State.

In that moment, she was certain.

She’d had her suspicions - and hopes - as to who the mystery artist was. But that quote cemented it. Her steps picked up speed as she headed for the last stretch of the path, looking ahead as she approached the gazebo.

There, stretching along the last section of the pathway, were the final words. “... I don't want to waste any more of my life without you in it.” Killian stepped out from under the roof of the gazebo, a small smile on his face. “Hello, Swan,” he murmured.

She didn’t stop moving, she didn’t slow down - in fact she sped up as she got closer to him, and when she reached him, she promptly punched him in the shoulder.

“Oi!” he cried, “what was that for?”

“It was you all this time?!” she shouted. “Do you know how crazy you’ve been driving me?!”

“I’ll have to admit, I’d envisioned you saying something like that - but in a decidedly different tone,” he muttered, wincing a bit and reaching up to rub at where she’d punched him. “Look...I realize this might’ve been a rather...elaborate...way of confessing my feelings...but you have to know, Emma. It’s you...it’s been you for quite some time now, and that’s not going to change.” He raked his hands through his hair, nerves visibly increasing as her silence continued. “I’m trying to say I love you, Swan, and thinking of how to tell you has been bloody terrifying-”

“So you decided to do it in the most public way possible?” she asked, finally finding her voice. “That was a big risk.”

“Aye,” he said, taking a few cautious steps closer to her. He reached out and cupped her face in his hand, his fingers sliding just into the hair behind her ear as his thumb brushed her cheek. “But you deserved the grandest of romantic gestures, love. I was willing to take the chance.”

Her arms wound around his waist as she stepped even closer to him, until there was really no space left between them at all. She took a deep breath. Here goes. “I love you, Killian. It was you...all this time,” she continued, her tone infinitely softer and laced with her abundant affection. She pressed up on her tiptoes, whispering, “do you know how crazy you’ve been driving me?” against his mouth before sealing her lips to his.

They sank into the kiss, their embrace growing closer and closer until Emma’s arms were draped over Killian’s shoulders and his were wrapped firmly around her waist. They had difficulty parting from one another, even when breathing became a pressing issue. They dove back in for kiss after kiss, becoming lost in each other.

It’s really amazing how different this is when you love someone so deeply, Emma thought hazily as Killian nibbled at her lower lip. She gasped sharply at the sensation, his tongue flicking out and soothing the spot before darting into her mouth to curl around her own. Just like that, their kiss took on another dimension, growing more passionate, hotter, wetter, and deeper - and Emma could no longer think at all.

Long moments later, they finally drew back, but kept their foreheads pressed tightly together. As they tried to regain their breath, Emma chuckled.

“What, love?” Killian said, a soft smile on his face.

“Oh, just...clearly Henry was in on this whole thing, I know that much now,” she said, pulling back to look at him. “But you’re going to have to tell me how you pulled all of this off without anyone wanting to press charges over any of the paintings...how much of the town was part of your master plan?”

“Well, love,” he said with a grin, taking every chance he could to use her new nickname. “That sounds like a perfect story for our first date.” He turned and started walking back up the path away from the gazebo, curling his arm around her shoulders when she fell into step next to him. “Can I pick you up tomorrow night at seven?”

She looked up at him, her face feeling like it would split in two from the force of her grin. “That sounds perfect.”

One year later…

The graffiti appeared once again, after another sleepy year in Storybrooke - but this time, Emma had no doubts as to its source. One morning when she opened the door of the seaside cottage she and Henry now shared with Killian, the simple question, Will you marry me, Swan?  looped its way down the front walk to the welcome sight that was Killian, down on one knee, at their gate.

(His smile was bright, his cheeks were flushed, and while one hand held a very particular type of jewelry box, the other nervously tugged at the hair behind his right ear).

Killian grinned when she used her own can of spray paint (shoved in her hand by Henry before he’d nudged her out the door) to write her simple, but perfect, response right next to his knee.

Yes.