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#& everyone is just telling me i feel weird out of some?? misplaced kind of jealousy thing?? because i'm 'losing' my brother to his gf lol

xpeachesncream · 3 years

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please could you make taehyung jealous for the next perfectly wrong drabbles? 👉👈

perfectly wrong | drabble [3]: if it’s one thing taehyung truly has a love-hate relationship with, it’s the fact that you have such a sweet, kind and warm demeanor towards everything and everyone.

word count: 1.8k

warnings: pretty fluffy, implied sexual content, cussing, tae is petty but also pouty

notes: feel free to send requests like this to my inbox and i will get to them! it may not be right away but i promise i’ll take a look. it can be for anyone in the perfectly wrong series. same thing goes for off the grid. however, please note that there are certain things i won’t write about - extreme mental/physical/verbal abuse (we’re all about fun, lighthearted pettiness here and nothing serious), threesomes, orgies, any extreme, intense smut because i’m still not used to writing smut like that. basically anything that you might be uncomfortable with or wouldn’t do in real life, i most likely will feel uncomfortable too and will not write about it! pls keep that in mind, thank you! love you all tons! 💗

Taehyung will not hesitate to let people know that he's your man and your man only. You thought he might have learned from the entire Jungkook situation, in which in a sense he has; he no longer acts weird about how close you and Jungkook are, but that doesn't mean he doesn't get jealous outside of that bubble.

He was the campus fuckboy, after all. He knows the capabilities of the boys here. He knows the intentions of the majority. He's familiar with the stupid little games boys play. If anything, he helped play a role in the stupidity of many boys on campus. He was a champion, the walking fuckboy 101 bible - they wanted to be Taehyung and they did everything to follow his ways.

So, when he's ordering coffee and sees a guy trying to lay his sweetness on you, getting all googly-eyed and licking his lips like you're his last meal on Earth, he doesn't like it one bit because he knows that look. He's been there before, especially with you. It doesn't help that you're super approachable, welcoming anything and anyone into your arms like you're some kind of saint.

The anonymous dude [Taehyung can't tell from afar] apparently cracks a joke, because you're entertaining it and playfully shoving him aside. You're beaming from ear to ear, tears almost streaming down from whatever joke he's telling you.

You hadn't laughed like that with him in awhile, nor has he seen you smile so big like that. Obviously, it's the jealousy talking. You loved Taehyung more than anything, and he was the only one who could make you feel the way that you do.

"The fuck?" He mumbles to himself.

"Here's your coffee, Tae." The barista says softly behind the counter, her gaze going between him and the scene. He can't keep his eyes off of this interaction, praying to the heavenly being above that the boy will get the hint and leave before Taehyung can get there. But he doesn't. He continues to crack jokes or whatever the hell he's doing to make you laugh the way that you're laughing. You rest your chin on your palm as you look at the dude in front of you, head tilted, looking all cute and shit and you don't even know it. Tae's eyes widen when he sees you place a hand on his shoulder and give it a gentle squeeze.

"T-thanks, could you actually just toss it in a to go cup, please? I think we're gonna head out instead." He dug his hands in his pockets as he keeps watch, the barista silently doing as asked. Taehyung quickly grabs the coffee and heads out to where you're seated, the dude still all up on his woman like he had been waiting for the right opportunity to pounce on her ass all day.

"Wow, are you serious? Christian that's hilarious, I'm sorry. Maybe you should have gone for that installment instead. Either way, I think it'll look amazing. It'll look so good when you finish it." He hears you reassuring ol' dude. You look up to see Taehyung slowly approaching, his forehead furrowed like some kind of angry, old man waiting for kids to get off of his porch. Curls all defined and fluffy, he didn't look intimidating to you one bit - but Christian squirms in his seat, finally catching the hint that Taehyung was not happy about him sitting that close to you with his arm brushing up against yours. Taehyung's eyes were piercing right through him, colored lenses intensifying the look.

"S-sorry, I was about to—"

"No, please stay. Let's all gather around and talk about each other's day." Taehyung sarcastically scrunches his nose and does a shimmy to show that he's actually not fucking playing right now and Christian better know what's good for him.

"I was just asking her for some advice on art class." He stands to nervously dust himself off. Now, if it's one thing you know too well, it's how petty Taehyung gets when he's jealous. You quietly sit there, a little hot and bothered with how Taehyung is acting, but you also want to laugh at how people really find Taehyung so intimidating. If you all only knew how much of a baby bear he was behind closed doors.

"Cute. You do know the fucking art room is two steps behind you, right? You know, where the professor usually is at." He steps forward, jaw slightly clenching.

"Look man, I really didn't mean any harm." Taehyung nods. "I was just about to leave."

"Don't forget to pick up your googly eyes from the floor." Taehyung shoots him a finger gun and clicks his teeth. "Wouldn't wanna misplace those for the next time you try and use them on my girlfriend again." Christian leaves without saying anything else, causing you to snort.

"What was that about?" You chuckle.

"Let's go." He sternly says, handing you the cup of coffee.

"I thought we were gonna sit and drink this here?"

"Or we can just sit and drink this at home." You hurriedly get up to follow him as he starts walking towards the car.

"Are you really that upset?"

"Are you really that upset?" He mocks your tone as he continues to walk to the car.

"Real mature, Kim Taehyung." He looks over his shoulder to glance at you with those eyes before looking back at the car. He silently opens the door for you, avoiding all contact. You silently giggle to yourself because even though he could get annoyingly petty like this, he still found ways to be a gentleman and cater to you. You watch as he plops into the driver's seat, sipping his coffee as he stares out at the campus. "Tae, what are we doing?"

"You wanted to sit and drink this here, right?"

"You're annoying." You roll your eyes and sit back. Was he really doing this right now? Taking your ass to the car to enjoy your coffee, away from people?

"Says the one who was all it'll look so good when you finish it. Ouuuu, either way it'll look amazing." He mocks your tone. "If anything, you're the annoying one, acting all cute when you know these dudes have it out for you. Since when do you shower people with compliments like that? I thought I was the only one."

"No, they don't, Christian is just a good friend from class and I was just trying to help give him some solid advice."

"Oh, so he's a good friend now?" He raises his eyebrow. "Jungkookie is a good friend. Hoseok is a good friend. Yoongi is a good friend." He counts on his hand, showing you the three fingers he has up. "Where's Christian at? I don't see him on that list. Christian is not a good friend." He puts his hand out as if he's waiting for your response. "Wooooow, it's quiet, no back talk, ey?" You put his hand down. Did I tell you he was also a comedian at best?

"Babe, stop." You pout, but he shakes his head. "Why are you acting so jealous right now?"

"Cause! The way you were all smiley and laughing with him. Praising him. Playfully pushing him and shit. You barely do that with me."

"You have got to be kidding. I've done that with you time and time again, I barely spend time with anyone else but you. You always make me laugh and you always make me smile, much more than anyone else."

"A-and you were like squeezing his shoulder so sweetly. You had this soft touch when it came to him even though he was looking at you like he was thinking some foul shit. You just— You just give it so easily."

"Baby." You chuckle. "Okay, that's just way too far."

"I know it all too well. I know a boy's brain like the back of my hand. So yeah, we're enjoying this coffee in here whether you like it or not." He furrows his eyebrows. You give him a moment to calm down before you reach over and caress his cheek. He welcomes your touch and you can instantly feel him relaxing as you continue to touch him gently.

"You're too cute."

"No." He pouts.

"Taehyung, you know I love you. And you know you're the only one who can make me feel all sorts of ways - one being happy and incredibly giddy from your lame jokes."

"They're not lame."

"They're lame." You joke as you scrunch your nose. "But that's what makes them unique to you. I wouldn't have it any other way. And on top of that, you know I can never stop smiling around you no matter the circumstance. Like now." You smile at him because honestly, he was being too fucking cute and you wanted nothing but to cuddle him at home. He had such a jealous side to him that little things ticked him off, but you knew he cared and just wanted you to himself. You couldn't help but feel the same, hence the girl at the mall being all flirty with him.

"Honestly, you're gonna be the death of me." He looks at you, his cheek falling deeper into your touch while you giggle. "Seriously, it's not funny. You had me experiencing heart palpitations when you touched him like that, it's not a joke."

"Relax." You chuckle. "You're dramatic."

"You wanna talk dramatic?" He looks at you. "She got all flirty with you when she walked off and you didn't even say anything!"

"Okay, I get it!"

"Mhm." He wiggles an eyebrow. He begins to start the car and pull off, the ride pretty silent. You knew he just needed a moment to get over himself, so as soon as you step into your apartment, you put your things aside and throw your arms around him.

"Babe." You plant kisses all over his face.

"Mmm, no—" He says in between kisses. "You— don't— get to do that—- and expect to— win me over— just like that."

"Uh huh. Yet, you're still kissing back." You say, pushing him towards your room. All you had planned was just to cradle your big baby and cuddle him until he felt better. You've learned that's how Taehyung gets over most things. Truly.

"Y/N, I'm not joking." He lays on his side after tossing his keys and phone on your night stand. He throws his hood over his head, while you throw yourself onto him, being the bigger spoon.

"Hey." You forcefully turn him around to make him face you. He does nothing look at you, allowing you to place a soft, passionate kiss on his plump lips. He gives into it, deepening it while tugging you closer to him. "You know I only have eyes for this handsome guy right here, right?" You boop the mole on his nose.

"Good, cause I want you all to myself. Stop being such a fucking saint. Be mean for once. I know you can do it, since you always catch an attitude with me." You laugh.

"Whatever, Taehyung. If that makes you feel better."

"Good." He smirks. "Come here. I'm trying to show you that you're mine and only mine." He wraps his arms around you and snuggles tightly against your body until you hear him softly snoring into your chest.

#bts #bts fanfiction #taehyung fanfiction #taehyung #kim taehyung #taehyung x reader #kth x reader #writing #perfectly wrong #perfectly wrong drabbles #kth series #taehyung fluff #bts fluff #kim taehyung fluff #kth fluff

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welllpthisishappening · 5 years

Text

All Was Golden in the Sky (27/27)

Magic is dying.

Emma knows it. She can feel it, the emptiness rattling around in her, like it’s trying to make sure she disappears as well. What she doesn’t know is what to do about it, because, suddenly, there is a man in Storybrooke claiming she’s the Savior and a seeress certain a prophecy promises the same and the last thing she expects is for her minimal amount of lingering power to pull her away.

To New York City.

And another oddly familiar man with blue eyes and a smile that sinks under her skin and makes magic bloom in the air around her. Things are about to get interesting.

— Rating: Mature AN: Hey, uh, so this is a finished story. If you’ve stuck around for this mess of words that is, just, exponentially longer than the seven-chapters-max fic I originally planned, then I cannot even begin to thank you. Seriously. It’s very nice of you guys to click and read. Also a very loud shout of YOU’RE BOTH WONDERFUL to @distant-rose and @bmbbcs4evr for agreeing to read this while I was writing it and then actually finishing it, so as to assuage all worry that it only made sense in my head. Also to @resident-of-storybrooke for her art and @cssns for hosting the event.

I’ll probably post some hockey fic on Thursday because I’ve got no self control, but other than that I’m not sure what’s coming next from me.

|| Also on Ao3 if that’s your jam ||

Emma needs to come up with another word.

She can’t.

All she can think about is fluttering. The letters bounce around Emma’s brain, ricochet off the inside of her skull and, possibly, the inside of her soul, which is a little weird, all things considered, but she’s also having a hard time paying attention to the wedding happening in front of her and Killian will not stop staring.

At her. Directly. Like he can also feel the fluttering in her soul.

On second thought, that’s probably just her magic.

And, maybe, on third thought, it’s something entirely different and wholly life-changing thing, but this is still not the moment and her eyes dart to her right.

One side of Killian’s mouth tugs up.

Emma lets out a quick breath, not quite a hiss because that would be distracting to everyone who is, in fact, watching the wedding, but it’s close. Her teeth press together, a burst of oxygen that barely makes its way through them, and Killian is legitimately smirking at her now.

It’s not fair.

It inspires more fluttering.

He licks his lips, tongue flashing quick enough that, for half a second, Emma is certain she imagined the whole thing, but then she realizes he’s doing it on purpose and maybe she won’t ever get to the moment at all. She’s going to kill him first. For teasing her.

During someone else’s wedding.

She takes another deep breath, a sharp inhale through her nose that leaves Ruby staring and Regina glaring, and Killian’s eyes might be getting bluer. Maybe it has something to do with that jacket. It’s ridiculous. She can just make out patterns stitched into the leather, bits of red on the collar that match the vest he’s wearing, the cut of which is probably meant to tease her as well.

That one dark corner two hallways over could work pretty well. For the moment. Or just to yank on the charms that hang around Killian’s neck, and Emma is only a little annoyed when her magic spikes.

Killian’s eyebrows leap up his forehead, disappearing behind hair that can’t be doing that naturally. It falls gracefully, coming dangerously close to his eyes and that only leaves Emma staring at his eyes and the whole thing is a vicious cycle that isn’t really all that vicious.

“Stop that,” he mouths, but there’s no real command in it. He’s not actually saying words.

Emma narrows her eyes. She can’t respond. She’s going to get yelled at. She’s not sure by who, but she’s certain it’ll be someone and this minister, bishop, religious figure of some sort is talking. She’s not listening.

Killian purses his lips when Emma’s magic doesn’t calm down. It flutters. Still. Constantly. Possibly for the next several months.

Gods.

And while his gaze doesn’t ever actually pull away from her, it does shift every so often, tracing across her face and the slope of her shoulders, an intensity to it that leaves Emma’s skin buzzing and her magic...fluttering and Gods, he keeps moving his eyes across her dress.

They’re all wearing white, a slightly different shade than Belle’s and Emma had been curious about that, but then she’d put the dress on and Killian keeps doing that thing with his face and, now, she’s very grateful to be wearing this very specific dress at this exact moment.

Everything about her current train of thought is ridiculous.

Well, maybe not all of it. The wedding is pretty nice.

That’s not a good set of words either. It’s better than pretty and nicer than nice, flowers hanging from the ceiling and color everywhere, sunlight streaming through stained glass windows and painting the floor and the fabric of everyone’s dresses.

The white makes sense now.

It’s beautiful. That’s a better word. And Emma’s been to her fair share of royal weddings, each one more ostentatious than the last, like they’re competing for a title that only married couples can obtain, but this wedding and these people, who’ve settled into brand-new lives, seem to have found something better.

It’s not royal, but it’s, maybe, more meaningful. Will’s thumb keeps brushing over the back of Belle’s wrist, hands twisted behind their back so the minister won’t see.

Jealous joins the fluttering, again, a twist that makes it hard to see straight, but then Emma’s eyes meet Killian’s and his expression hasn’t changed.

He tilts his head slightly, lips parted so she can see the tip of his tongue swipe the front of his teeth. It takes everything in her to keep her knees from buckling.

“Fine,” she says. She doesn’t really say it. She doesn't want to get in trouble. Killian doesn’t look convinced. So Emma does the only thing she can think of.

She focuses on her magic, funnels it so it pushes from the tips of her fingers and moves down each strand of hair, a warmth that wasn’t there a few minutes before. She breathes deeply, and she can’t actually see the magic move across the aisle, but she can tell the exact moment it reaches Killian.

His head snaps up, jaw tensing and eyes widening to a size that is absolutely going to earn them both reprimands.

Like children.

Who flirt. Constantly. At other people’s weddings.

Emma grins.

She doesn’t stop, fingers twisting and twitching at her side, moving the air around her until she’s certain every single particle is full of her magic. Killian’s chest heaves, makes the charms hanging there shift and she’s not all that opposed to this particular stare.

If only because this particular stare is somewhere between amazed and a little overwhelmed and he appears to be breathing through his mouth. She’s going to spend the rest of her life studying the color-changing properties of his eyes.

The minister is still talking.

“To understand the love that Will Scarlet and Belle French share, is simply to watch them,” he says, and Emma mouth goes dry. Gods, she hopes she doesn’t cry. The moment hasn’t happened yet. She can’t blame anything except her own romantic tendencies. “They are a pair who do not only challenge each other to be the best versions of themselves, but love each other in spite of those moments when they are not.”

Emma sighs. Mary Margaret sniffles. And Killian hasn’t blinked in days. At least.

He licks his lips again. Emma doesn’t think that’s on purpose.

“They aren’t two sides of the same coin,” the minister continues, “for that would suggest that they are, in fact, the same. Will and Belle are different, opposites in a way that compliment each other, that finds a happy medium and a quiet contentment in the contrast.” “Is this a good thing?” Will mumbles, and Belle, finally, has a free hand. It flies to her mouth, trying to smother the laugh she can’t keep entirely contained.

Mary Margaret’s sniffle is getting louder every time. “This is very existential,” Emma mutters. She leans back, Ruby hooking her chin over her shoulder and that was probably a mistake. Ruby is very clearly breathing.

“Gods, you are a disaster. It’s so obvious.” “Stop sniffing me.” “I’m serious, Em,” Ruby whispers, twisting her head until her lips are dangerously close to Emma’s neck and this is not how she expected these next few moments to go. “And if the pirate stares at you any harder, you’re going to turn to stone or something.” “That’s a misplaced joke.” “Shut up,” Regina fumes, and she never really mastered the art of whispering. Ruby’s whole body shakes against Emma’s back.

Belle hasn’t moved her hand. It makes it difficult to understand her when she starts speaking as well. “Ruby if you mess up my bouquet, doing whatever it is you’re doing to Emma’s neck, I’m going to make sure you don’t get a single dark corner to yourself tonight. Got it?” It takes some twisting for Ruby to actually salute, but then her hand is moving and Emma’s eyes roll towards the ceiling, timing up with Regina’s groan and Ariel’s laugh and Killian’s gaze has gone more than a little suspicious.

The minister chuckles. Loudly. He throws his head back, an arm wrapped around his stomach like that will help him maintain his center of gravity and Emma’s head snaps back towards Killian’s like there are magnets involved. Magic, at least.

He reaches behind his ear to tug at the hair there. And she’s not sure what any of her internal organs do at that, but it kind of feels like they’re combusting and expanding at the same time, a push and pull that’s almost comfortable because she hasn’t seen that particular tell in a very long time and now she’s the one doing the pointed staring.

She gapes at him, any sense of jealousy disappearing into something more akin to joy and it’s like she’s fallen backwards – straight into memories and past moments that will help set up this moment and he looks at her the same way.

Like she’s the sun and the North Star and the one thing that keeps him centered.

He doesn’t blink, holds her gaze and looks impossibly young, a sudden lightness that doesn’t match up with the obvious weight of the jacket he’s wearing and Emma’s going to enjoy pushing that same jacket on the floor later.

She’s not all that particular about which floor.

“Oh, that is the best thing there is, Will,” the minister says, answering a question Emma forgot about entirely, far too preoccupied with her thoughts regarding coats and eye color. “Love should not be a quest to find our duplicate. That’s an impossibility, even in a world like ours.” Emma’s magic does something, as if it’s aware it’s being talked about. She can see every one of the muscles in Killian’s throat move when he swallows.

And the minister isn’t done.

“Love is more than that. Because love is a magic that is far stronger than anything else in this realm.” Emma doesn’t think she imagines the way he glances towards her, looking down to make sure she actually hasn’t lit up. She hasn’t. They’re not in an actual church, but she’ll take the miracles when she can get them.

“It’s an understanding,” he adds, turning back towards Will and Belle and Will’s thumb is moving quicker now, “It’s belief. And growth. It’s mistakes and miscues and moving on from both of them, finding someone who will walk that same path with you, no matter what may be in the road. Most of all, it is understanding. It’s support without being blind. Love, of the truest kind, is give and take, a foundation on which to build everything else. And that’s what I see here.”

The minster looks out on the rest of the hall, and Emma didn’t realize she was holding her breath until it flies out of her. He smiles, soft and almost benevolent, a little too religious for her liking, but she supposes it’s also a wedding and--

“Will and Belle are not the same person, but they are people who have found something in each other,” he says. “Who have found happiness. And, today, we celebrate that happiness. We celebrate the journey that they will take. So,” he smiles again, a dramatic pause that feels a little heavy-handed at this point. Will pulls his lips behind his teeth. Belle lets her head rest on his shoulder. “Today, we bring together Will Scarlet and Belle French, we watch them commit their lives to each other and that same happiness they’ve found. And we encourage them to remember this moment, to cling to it when the shadows fall, because they will come, challenges that they’ll contend with together, remembering that they are not the same, but pieces of a similar puzzle, compliments to each other and a pair who deserve this. The moment.”

Another dramatic pause.

And Emma seizes it, more magic moving from her fingertips and, maybe, out of the heel of her shoe, flying from her toes and drifting across space, reaching up to curl around the fingers hanging at Killian’s side.

He smiles.

“Can I kiss her yet?” Will asks slyly, and Mary Margaret is not the only one who makes noise at that. Emma’s laugh rattles out of her, watery and a little shaky, tears blurring her vision, while Ruby’s soft exhale tickles the skin at the back of her neck.

The minister nods. “Yes, you can absolutely kiss her, but I should probably--”

He barely gets the words out before Will is moving, Belle’s laugh ricocheting off the windows and those beams of light that are still pouring through the panes. She slings her arms around Will’s neck, back arching when he actually dips her, a hand flat against her dress and the other cupping her head, lips pressed together with enough joy radiating in the air around them that Emma is certain she can actually taste it.

They don’t stop kissing each other.

They break apart, only to move closer together, hands tracing over skin and clothing in equal measure, laughter working its way into the space between kisses. Breathing is, apparently, overrated, anyway.

Emma is a little worried about the state of Belle’s spine.

“Hey, maybe he was right,” Ruby muses, “he and Belle are definitely going to be supreme couple at this wedding. Good for them.” Emma scoffs. “It’s their wedding,” “Yeah, but you’ve got a very particular scent to you, Em and--” “--Are they actually married?” Mary Margaret asks. “Because we said the moment and there’s kissing, but…” She trails off, shrugging slightly. Will and Belle must have magical lungs.

The minister laughs again, a quick nod and dismissive wave of his hand. “Oh, yes, yes, I suppose we should make it official, don’t you think?” “We’re all big fans of official,” David says. Emma resists the urge to glare at him. She’s fairly certain some of the meaning behind those words is meant for her.

“Of course, your highness. Uh--” He coughs slightly, and it does not work. Emma didn’t expect it to. Killian mumbles something under his breath, a curse that doesn’t sound particularly like English and might actually be something Emma heard Ariel use before, leaning forward to curl his fingers around Will’s shoulder.

He tugs. Hard.

“Holy fu--” Will growls. “What?” Killian nods, the minister blushing a bit now and they really are the least traditional royal family in the history of Misthaven. “Oh, right,” Belle mutters, clicking her teeth when she ducks her gaze towards her shoes. “Sorry, that was--” “--Way too long to be even remotely comfortable?” Killian suggests. Belle kicks at his shins.

“No dark corners for you either! And I know--” “--Oh my God,” David groans, and several people in the aisles laugh very loudly. It may just be Eric and Henry. And possibly Bash, but he’s also a child and laughs at anything he finds particularly amusing.

“Man and wife, right?” Mary Margaret asks. “That’s how it works.”

The minister is still blushing, but he also looks kind of amused and as far as moments go, even if it’s not the one Emma’s hoping to get eventually, this one is pretty goddamn enjoyable. Killian’s fingers are still bent. Like he’s trying to hold onto her magic.

Or her. She’s still not going to be specific.

“That’s absolutely right,” the minister smiles. He turns back towards Belle and Will, both of them looking a little nervous and not even remotely embarrassed. “I now pronounce you man and wife. We kind of already did the kissing, but--”

He doesn’t finish that sentence either. There’s more kissing. And a few whistles.

Emma taps her thumb on the iPod again.

That actually gets them to stop kissing for a moment because--”Is that the Four Seasons?” Will asks, laughter coloring every word and Belle’s smile stretches across her face when she curls against his side.

Emma shakes her head. “Technically it’s just Frankie Valli.” “Technically?” “It’s Mary Margaret’s iPod.” “It’s definitely just Frankie Valli,” Mary Margaret confirms, and Emma makes a noise in the back of her throat.

“See. We win.” Will scoffs, but his arm tightens slightly and Emma doesn’t hear the footsteps moving towards her. She flinches when Killian’s hand grazes the ridges of her spine, tracing across each one of her vertebrae like he’s trying to make sure she’s actually there and it’d be insane if she dropped the iPod.

She genuinely almost drops the iPod.

“Yeah, yeah, you win,” Will grumbles, a distinct lack of frustration in his voice. “Alright, so, uh--” “--You walk down the aisle now, Scarlet,” Ariel says. Bash is clinging to her side, a sudden appearance that Emma didn’t even notice and Ariel rolls her eyes before any of them can ask how that happened.

He salutes as well.

They’ve circled back around to ridiculous.

“C’mon,” Belle says, looping her arm through Will’s and tugging slightly. “Let’s see if we can scandalize anyone while they all come into the next hall.”

Ruby cackles. Mary Margaret has to use David to stay upright. And Will may actually sprint down the aisle, hardly landing one step before he’s moving onto the next, flowers thrown and doors flung open and Killian’s fingers are warm when they lace with Emma’s.

“You are getting awfully handsy, Lieutenant.”

He actually looks surprised. It’s not a bad look, even if Emma knows that he’s only doing it to continue teasing her, but none of the looks are ever bad and the fluttering gets stronger. More intense. Supreme fluttering. “I’m not sure what it is you’re suggesting, your highness,” Killian mutters, but that doesn’t ring exactly honest, particularly when he nudges her further into the corner of a different hall with more flowers, a low hum of people who all appear to be riding several waves of particularly strong romance.

Emma hopes that’s a theme for the rest of the day.

“Please,” she grumbles. That only makes his expression change slightly, surprise turning into incredulity and something drifting dangerously close to...dangerous. In a flirting, handsy, scandalize several reigning monarchs of a few different kingdoms kind of way.

“That’s still not an answer, darling.”

“Running the gamut of nicknames, huh?” “The first one was your title. That hardly counts.” “And the second one?” “An endearment,” Killian says, dropping his head and Emma’s whole body shivers when his teeth graze the curve of her jaw. He chuckles.

“Asshole.” “Ah, I believe you’re missing the point there, love.” Emma makes a low noise in the back of her throat, letting her head loll back against a wall she didn’t realize was there until just now. Killian grins, that flash in his gaze making her magic shoot through every inch of her and she’s absolutely going to count whatever his eyes do at that as a victory. Of the romantic variety.

Maybe this is the moment.

It’s not a bad moment.

It’d be a better moment with more kissing. And less people, music that Henry must have picked because, at some point, between walking down the aisle and closing the doors of another hall behind them, he had claimed he was going to be in charge of the songs. It sounds like he’s playing boy bands from the 90s.

Maybe this isn’t the moment.

She doesn’t remember moving her hands, palms flat on Killian’s chest when he rocks into her space, a quick bump of his hips against hers that leaves Emma biting back more misplaced sounds and she’s completely lost control of her magic.

“Tease,” Killian mutters. His hand has shifted too, dropping to the curve of her hip, thumb brushing over the front of her dress and Emma’s had magical surges before, but never exactly like this.

As if she could combust right there.

“That’s rude.” He groans, but the sound is very close to a growl and Emma focuses her magic. It’s not perfect, not quite as exact as it had been a few minutes before, but she’s going to blame his tongue and this very particular shade of blue in his eyes and Killian’s whole chest moves when he exhales.

“What are you trying to do, exactly?” “I really think we’re going in circles here.” “Your magic has been--” Killian inhales sharply, a quick shake of his head like he can’t quite believe what it’s about to say. “As strong as I’ve ever felt it. The last few days...it’s, well, it’s all I can do to think straight.”

“I’m not sure if that’s a compliment.” He smiles, barely moving his head when he nods. It seems unfair that his hair moves anyway. “It is. Distracting, honestly, but, uh---” Emma’s teeth find her lower lip when he rocks between his feet, hook coming up to brush behind his ear. Again. She’s absolutely counting. “Ever?” “Ever,” he echoes. “Like there’s...like there’s more of it.”

Emma can feel her eyes widen, and she hasn’t had to worry about the size of her tongue in a very long time, but she’s certain she can feel it expand right there, making it difficult to keep her mouth closed and her breathing even.

Her jaw aches. She can’t bring herself to loosen it.

It’s definitely the Backstreet Boys in the background. Anna keeps shouting questions. And just shouting. Elsa and Ariel may actually be dancing.

“Swan,” Killian says, a hint of worry in his voice that makes her stomach twist. “C’mon, love. Why the magic? And why the teasing during the wedding? That wasn’t playing fair at all.”

“Are you kidding me?” Killian laughs again, the sound pressed into the curve of Emma’s neck. “You keep asking these questions and I’m not sure I entirely understand them, Swan.” “What’s that one, then?” He hums in confusion, nosing at her skin and nipping at the shell of her ear and it would probably ruin the wedding if she did, in fact, just die right there. His thumb drifts closer to her stomach. “Is Swan a nickname or an endearment or--” The rest of the words get caught on her lips. They hang on the tip of her tongue and the minimal amount of space between them, her fingers reaching up to curl around the charms she’d been thinking about before and this may be the least surprising part of the conversation.

It’s like someone flipped a switch, so sudden she can barely catch her breath before Killian’s mouth crashes onto hers, hand leaving her side to cup her cheek She jerks back, which only serves to press most of her body into Killian’s, and one of them probably makes a louder noise.

She’s not sure which one.

It does not matter.

Killian’s thumb presses into her cheek, fingers curling around the back of her neck and pushing into her hair. And the switch flips again. It’s even quicker that time, heady and desperate evolving into something closer to reverent and adoring and she’s got to go back to school or something so she can come up with more appropriate adjectives in times like this.

He pulls away, fingers moving like he can’t stop himself from touching her and she’s not going to argue that. Ever. Gods, he knew her magic was going haywire.

She definitely makes the noise that time.

Emma presses up on her toes, and it’s difficult to think when she can feel how his nose scrunches against her face, but then there’s tongue and open mouths and she’s got to sling an arm around his shoulders if only to try and keep her balance.

“Cheater, cheater,” he mumbles, letting his forehead rest against hers.

“I don’t like pumpkin at all.” “Misplaced idioms, love.” “Yuh huh,” Emma laughs. She doesn’t know how many small victories she’s at now, but the look he gives her when she scratches at the back of his hair is like conquering several nations or something less violent. That’s inappropriate at wedding. “And this is absolutely your fault too. You can’t seem to stop touching me.”

He hums, gaze going slightly darker in a way that sends a thrill up and down Emma’s spine. “Have you seen this dress?” “I’m wearing it.” “Swan.” “What? That’s a legitimate question and you’re still keeping secret plans and--” “--Your magic is distracting,” Killian cuts in, not quite sharp, but a sound that makes Emma know he suspects something and they’re dancing around several possibilities without even acknowledging that NSYNC was a superior band to the Backstreet Boys. “And Swan, the dress is...you look…” “I know, right?” “Why aren’t you kissing me, again?” All things considered, complete and utter joy is a rather magnificent feeling. It’s warm and content and makes the magic that rushes under Emma’s skin turn to a low simmer, a buzz and a burst of energy and she thinks this particular shade of blue is somewhere closer to cornflower.

Softer. Calmer. Ever.

“Demanding,” she mutters, and she can’t make it sound like the insult it absolutely isn’t. Killian tries to wink. “Gods, you are so bad at that,” Emma laughs. Her body shakes against his, nearly standing on top of his shoes. “And what was this I heard about every single dance? You’re not living up to your suave reputation, pirate.” Midnight blue. Sharper. Intense. Still ever. As in happily.

“I think prefer dashing rapscallion, actually. Rolls off the tongue better.”

“Far too confident in your own humor.” “And getting you to smile, aye.” There are footsteps coming towards them and Emma knew they were on borrowed time, this corner not nearly dark enough for her to actually get the moment she wants, but her laugh nearly drowns out the sounds and she arches her back when Killian’s hook finds its way between her and the wall.

“This is the last time I’m ever going to do this, do you two understand?” Ruby announces, hands on her hips when Emma glances over Killian’s shoulder. He doesn’t turn around. “Like. No more. I’m not doing the interrupting thing for the rest of our lives.” “No one suggested you come over here, Lady Lucas.” She bares her teeth. “Incorrect. Because you two have wedding obligations and the pirate--” “--Rubes,” Emma chastises, but that’s another losing battle and she’s got to stop thinking in military terms.

“The pirate is, somehow, the best man and the maid of honor and apparently there are toasts to be made and speeches and also,” she scrunches her nose, “Robin Hood would very much like to meet both of you.”

Emma refuses to be blamed for whatever noise she makes. She feels a little drunk already. She’s not sure what she’s going to do when there are toasts to be made. As it is, she’s more than content to let her head fall forward, crashing into a chest that is also shaking with laughter and Killian’s arm tightens.

He kisses the top of her hair.

“Did she say it with a straight face?” Emma shakes her head. “Not even close.” “Does this mean we get to meet her girlfriend?” He twists, bringing Emma with him and she doesn’t try to pull herself away from him. “Did she bring her little dog too?”

“Has anyone ever told you you’re an asshole?” Ruby snaps.

“Swan, like, a few minutes before you got here.” “What? Really?” Killian hums, Ruby’s eyebrows pulling low and Emma’s magic jumps. It makes her left knee buckle. She’s going to curse all of them to have less judgmental eyebrows. “Oh, huh,” Ruby adds with a shrug, “well, that’s one way to do it, I suppose. Also, I’d just like to point out, for the record or whatever--” “--Hook,” Ariel calls from the other side of the room. “We’re going to toast to love and happiness and all that, so, uh...if you want to pull yourself out of that dark corner, then maybe we can actually drink whatever Kristoff brought.” Killian groans. “Gods, if Kritoff brought it we may all die before we get to the dancing, Swan.” “Shouldn’t have spent so much time talking about my magic, then.”

Ruby freezes. Emma ignores that. She tries, at least. It doesn’t work. Particularly when Ruby moves again. So she can laugh. Uproariously. “Ariel stole my point and I think it’s very unfair because I was totally going to shove the fact that you are, in fact, Captain Hook in your face, but you’re very busy flirting with your girlfriend, aren’t you, Jones? Your girlfriend.” “Thank you, Lady Lucas.” Ariel yells for them again, brandishing a bottle as if that will get them to move quicker. “Tick tock, tick tock, Hook.” Emma laughs that time. So does David. They might have moved on to New Kids on the Block. Mary Margaret’s going to have to explain her iPod library. “That’s a joke,” David shouts, and Killian nods petulantly. “Did you get the joke?” “Your fiancé has horrible taste in music,” Emma argues. “Henry, you’ve got to play something better than this.” “Freebird,” Will says, voice not quite even and it appears he’s already gotten into whatever Kristoff has brought.

“I don’t have that,” Mary Margaret mutters. “No one actually likes that song.” Emma snickers. “It’s a bold claim, M’s, but I suppose someone had to say it. Can we get out of the 90s though, Henry? Honestly?” Henry winks better than Killian, a flash of a grin and suddenly determined expression as if picking the next song will be the most important thing he’s ever done. It takes a few moments, the hum in the hall getting louder and Killian’s fingers find Emma’s again when they start walking towards a table with an almost comical number of glasses artfully piled on top.

The music starts.

“Is this--” Emma mutters, Will already singing and Belle bobbing on the balls of her feet and her breath hitches when she hears Killian in her ear. His voice is soft, barely more than a whisper, and it probably shouldn’t be romantic to be serenaded by Uptown Girl, but that may just be the life they’re living and the contingent from DunBroch seems to really enjoy Billy Joel.

“Why do you know all the words to this?” she asks, leaning back against his chest. It’s easy to feel his smile against her cheek.

“I think that means your impressed.” “Curious, at least.”

He doesn’t answer, just keeps barely singing lyrics while his fingers trace patterns on her dress. She might be swooning a little bit. Kristoff starts pouring drinks, explaining not to chug this, seriously and there’s a general nod of agreement and understanding and--

Emma almost jumps when she feels Mary Margaret’s fingers against the back of her wrist.

She takes the cup out of her hand, a quick switch that Emma hopes no one sees. And chugs it. Immediately.

“Oh shit,” Mary Margaret breathes, Emma biting on her lip to stop herself from making noise. It doesn’t matter. Both Belle and Elsa do. They gasp.

Ruby may actually giggle. The woman next to her looks a little confused.

Killian doesn’t notice. That may be the biggest victory so far.

“To Belle and Will,” he says, “that always feel like they’re drunk on Arendelle, what is this?” “Wine, actually,” Kristoff answers. “Just, you know...strong.” “Right, right, right, well, here’s hoping they always feel pleasantly buzzed and--” “--This is not the best, Hook,” Ariel grumbles, already taking a sip.

“Stop that, Fisk. To Belle and Will,” he repeats. “That they always feel like this, happy and a bit like they’re walking on air and that they don’t kick anyone else out of an apartment so that they can do unquestionable things on every surface.” Belle scowls. Kind of. She’s also very clearly drunk. “You know, if you want to get technical, us kicking you out of the apartment is how you found Emma in the hallway, so--”

“You’re welcome,” Will shouts. “It was us all along. The true heroes of the story.” “Or at least something coming full circle.” Killian nods, one side of his mouth pulling up. “Something like that,” he concedes. “Alright, to you guys. And your unneighborly ways. And romance.”

“To romance,” the group of them echo and every one of them gags as soon as they drink the Arendelle wine.

Robin Hood is, in fact, a pretty good dude.

He smiles and laughs, makes a face when forced to drink the Arendelle wine because--”That’ll show you’re part of the group,” David reasons, but David also may be a little drunk now and it probably hurts when Regina rolls her eyes into the back of her skull.

She sticks her entire tongue out after she takes a sip.

“Gods,” Regina groans, curling over the arm that hasn’t moved from her waist since she and Robin left the dance floor. She and Robin were dancing. “That is atrocious.”

“We think it’s a requirement,” Ariel reasons. Bash has long fallen asleep, whisked away by a woman with a kind smile and Eric looks a little unsteady on his feet now. “Isn’t that right, Elsa? Royal decree of the alcohol of Arendelle?” Elsa scowls. “That is not how it works. And--” she adds, falling forward slightly until Killian catches her around the wrist with his hook. “--whatever Lancelot and Guinevere brought is ten-thousand times worse. Gods, are we still playing Billy Joel?”

“Scarlet demanded it,” Killian grins. He’s got his head resting on the side of Emma’s, enough that she’s certain she can feel the way his mouth moves even through her hair, but that might be wishful thinking and Mary Margaret is starting to look a little green.

She keeps tugging cups out of Emma’s hand without asking.

It’s very nice.

It’s slightly ridiculous.

That’s also a theme.

Gods, she wants to dance.

“I did not do anything like that,” Will growls, most of the venom disappearing because he’s still smiling. He’s lost his jacket at some point, a color to his cheeks that doesn’t seem like it’ll fade any time soon and joy, it appears, is catching. “Els, did you really try that stuff Lancelot brought? I think it had a warning label on it.” “And they brought that to a wedding?” David balks. “Should we be concerned by that?” “I don’t think that’s a sign of open war,” Robin reasons. “He seemed like--” “--Please say a good dude,” Emma whispers, fully expecting the narrow-eyed look she gets from Will. “You’re still smiling, Scarlet, you can’t be all that insulted.” “It is my wedding day.” “We should have gotten that on a sign,’ Belle says. She’s also lost her shoes, wandering around the hall barefoot with the force of several suns in her smile and Will lets his head loll back as soon as she wraps an arm around his middle. “Hey, babe.” “Oh hi, wife.” “How long is this going to last?” David groans. They are all really horrible at making their words sound frustrated. Emma supposes joy will do that to people. She curls her fingers around Killian’s hook, Billy Joel still playing loudly with magic that she can’t entirely temper yet and--

Anna’s hand flies to her face. “Look at that,” she hisses, stabbing a free finger into the air and everyone of them turns in tandem.

David curses. Killian tenses. Will nearly falls over.

“Well, no wonder we’ve been dancing like we’re a wedding on Long Island,” Belle laughs. “Our DJ is distracted.”

They’re all staring. It’s obvious. In a parental, extended family with enough magic and full circles to fuel several sweeping epics, kind of way. Henry doesn’t notice -- far too preoccupied with the person in front of him, a girl that looks about his age and, if the style of her dress is any indication, is also from Camelot.

They’re crowded close together, heads bent and smiles barely visible. Henry’s hand keeps flexing at his side.

Mary Margaret has started to cry again. “What?” she challenges when Ruby gapes at her. “I am so drunk. It is--it’s honestly absurd how drunk I am.”

“Yeah, ok,” Ruby agrees. “That’s fair. But, uh---what was it you were saying about signs of open war, Robin Hood?” Regina’s eyes are going to get stuck that way. “You do not need to use his title every time.” “Oh, but it’s so much more fun that way.” “Wait, wait, wait,” Anna stutters, waving both hands now. “Look, they’re moving!”

“Is this weird that we’re doing this?” Elsa asks. Anna waves both hands again. Not at the same time. “I think that means it’s weird.” “Please,” Will scoffs. “Killian and Emma are like Henry’s parents and--” His eyes bug, darting between Emma and Killian and back again, before shifting towards an unable-to-stand-on-her own Mary Margaret, lips parting with an almost audible pop while Belle does her best not to laugh too loudly. “Parents,” he repeats. “That’s--”

Mary Margaret really does her best to glare. It’s not great.

“I think he just asked her to dance,” David says, and Emma isn’t sure if it’s actually a distraction or just years of experience, but she’s going to have to do something for both him and Mary Margaret. Once she sobers up.

None of them move. None of them blink. They watch Henry take a few unsteady steps forward, the Camelot girl trailing close behind and--

“Oh shit,” Ruby says, Dorothy laughing next to her. The Camelot girl grabs Henry’s hand. He snaps his head around, visibly stunned and even more obviously nervous and Killian grumbles under his breath.

“What?” Emma asks, chancing a glance up. It’s a mistake as soon as her gaze meets his, a look she hasn’t seen, maybe, ever, but is quickly coming to love more than just about anything else. He kisses between her eyebrows.

“He’s stealing all my moves.” She can’t say what again. Her tongue is way too big. It’s gross.

And she’s way too distracted anyway -- by the music, somehow, still goddamn Billy Joel, but slower and getting closer to almost romantic and Killian’s fingers are warm when they curl around hers. He bows.

Ridiculous. Ridiculous. Perfect.

This may be the moment. Or getting there. Full circle.

“Your highness,” he mumbles, brushing the words over the bend of her knuckles. Emma swallows, hoping that does something to help her magic, but she’s not really a great field general or however the metaphor should work, and it’s even harder when she sees one side of Killian’s mouth tug up.

“Lieutenant.” He nips at the back of her palm, looking up from underneath eyelashes that may be half the reason her magic is doing whatever it’s doing. “I think we’ve wasted more than enough time, don’t you?” “Ah, that’s rude,” Will mutters, Ariel stepping on his foot. “Also, I think it’s really unfair that David isn’t making comments on this. It’s not your wedding yet.” Killian’s eyes flash, another kiss to Emma’s hand and part of her brain does, actually, pick up on that. The rest of it is short-circuiting.

“If you’d do me the honor, ma’am.”

Emma nods. She thinks. Her hair shifts though and she’s passably familiar with the properties of gravity and something about Isaac Newton. “It’d be a pleasure,” she breathes, any thought of seventeenth-century scientists disappearing as soon as Killian pulls her towards the dance floor.

She’d been ready to make fun of him for the walking on air comment before, but the longer they spend on that dance floor, Killian’s hand on her waist and Emma’s fingers wrapped around his hook, the more it starts to make sense.

She doesn’t feel like they’re moving, really, more like gliding and drifting, occupying the same few inches of space like they’re each trying to orbit the other. He spins her, laughter ringing out around them and it takes Emma a few moments to realize -- it’s coming from her.

The muscles in her face threaten to get stuck, frozen in permanent happiness and, she supposes, that’s not that bad. She supposes, hopes, maybe after everything, they both deserve this.

Her breath catches when Killian pulls her back, a low chuckle in her ear. “Oh, don’t sound so smug,” Emma mutters, and she’s got to get him out of this jacket at some point.

“I’m not sounding like anything, Swan. I’m having fun. Are you not enjoying yourself?” Emma clicks her tongue, tilting her head up and the smile she’s met with is equal parts disarming and the only thing she ever wants to see again. She reaches up, brushing a few wayward strands of hair away from his brows and Killian’s eyes shut, an ease and a calm and she can’t imagine how they’re still moving.

Dancing.

Finally.

“I never said that,” Emma argues. “I was only pointing out that you are looking a little pleased with yourself and I told you so is not exactly attractive when I’m trying to figure out all the ways to get you into less clothing.”

It’s cheating. She knows it. Killian knows it. Several members of a variety of different royal families know it. She says it anyway, because it garners exactly the reaction she’s looking for -- as if he’s stunned and surprised, again.

Emma drinks it in, relishes every shift and every line, the crinkles around his eyes and the slight curl to his lips when he looks at her. Killian doesn’t blink, like that will snap them out of whatever they’ve fallen into and the music gets louder.

And the kiss she gets out of it is in the realm of searing, a hook pressed into her back and hips flush against hers.

“The magic, Swan,” he mutters, pulling her closer. She should tell him. She doesn’t. She presses her cheek into his shoulder, breathes deeply and tries to let this sink into every inch of her.

“Is it going to be weird if I tell you that you also look pretty incredible?”

Killian breathes out a laugh, and he must shake his head because she can feel his chin brush over the top of her hair. “No, that wouldn’t be weird. Although I was pretty certain of it when you started flirting during the ceremony.” “That wasn’t flirting.” “No?” Emma sighs, another noise she refuses to take responsibility for when they spin again. It’s all she can do to keep her balance, holding on to him tightly and that was probably the point, but it’s a pretty good point and Killian doesn’t seem all that frustrated by it.

“Seemed like flirting,” he adds, still sounding far too smug. So, Emma reacts. Again. She doesn’t close her eyes, wants to see exactly what he does as soon as she does it, a pulse of magic that she’s surprised isn’t visible when it shakes out of her.

“Hardly playing fair, love. And, incidentally, I wasn’t going to say anything close to rehashing my dance credentials.” “No?” “No,” Killian says, each letter sounding like a promise. “I believe what I’m trying to say, your highness, is that you appear to be a natural at this.” “Is this even a waltz?” “Take my compliment, Swan.” “Aye aye.”

He scoffs, a fondness to the sound, and they’d only stun a few people if Emma magic’ed them out of that hall. Maybe to some library stacks. “Should I repeat the bit about teasing?” “Only if you think it’s not a fact.” “That’s not fair either,” he says, straining on all four words. Emma grins. She pushes her fingers into his hair, light scratches at the back of his neck, and the sharp inhale he makes leaves her magic threatening to burst out of her veins.

Killian hisses, head falling to her collarbone and that feels like a mark in Emma’s win column, but then there are also teeth involved and--”We need to get out of here,” he says, sounding a little desperate. She has to lick her lips.

“Yeah, ok, that’s--” “--This is the plan, love,” Killian interrupts, eyes falling to the ends of her hair when they start to emit a faint glow. He catches her lips, not nearly long enough to be even remotely satisfying, but they’re sneaking out of another event and Emma’s head is spinning. “C’mon,” he adds, finding her hand, and those words are laced with an excitement that she’ll think about for a very long time. And talk about longer. “I know a place.”

“Where are we going, exactly?” Killian doesn’t respond, just clicks his tongue and the horse they’ve, possibly, kidnapped breaks into a trot. “Seriously, did you steal this horse?” “Swan, give me some credit, love.” “That is not an answer.” “This is the best horse in this entire kingdom,” Killian says, Emma tightening her hold around his middle. “And I borrowed it. Without anyone noticing. We’ll bring it back.” “Probably.” “Absolutely,” he amends. She hums, not entirely convinced, and if she weren’t so preoccupied with her own plan and the possibility of moments, Emma would be embarrassed that she hadn’t realized where they were going.

It is, she imagines, because it’s been so long since she’s been there.

She never went back. Even after curses and True Love. She avoided it, pretended this place didn’t exist and these things were nothing more than wisps of memories and hints of nightmares and she can hear herself breathe heavier as soon as Killian slides off the horse.

He offers her his hand.

“I promise, love,” he says, not quite an explanation. She takes his hand anyway. Still warm. Because she’s always trusted him, believed and wanted, maybe more than she ever deserved, and it’s been the simplest thing in the world to do.

From the very start.

No matter where they might be.

Every single time.

Even in the same goddamn field where he died.

She takes a steadying breath, not expecting it to work, and her first step forward is disappointing. Emma wobbles slightly, weight falling between her toes and her heel, threatening to turn her ankle and Killian squeezes his hand.

“Is this where you went?” she asks, voice dropping low and that’s also kind of embarrassing. Her throat feels like it’s shrinking though, every word a challenge as if they have to scratch their way out, but this place is--

She freezes.

Killian’s hand tightens again.

“How--” Emma breathes, eyes not able to land on one thing. Her gaze darts around so quickly, she’s briefly worried about the headache she’s going to give herself, but that thought only lasts as long as she can process the words, eyes moving again and--”How long has it been like this?” This is not the field they left behind.

It’s not the field Rumplestilskin destroyed, no hint of darkness or death or anything except life. In its purest form. There are flowers everywhere, enough to rival any of the halls Belle could have decorated, colors that aren’t dulled by the moonlight above them, full trees and leaves that shift under a slight breeze.

Emma isn’t sure if that’s because of her magic.

Or--

“Holy shit,” she mutters, and Killian’s whole face changes, another switch and more joy and Emma’s feet leave the ground. She didn’t have to be worried about the ankle thing at all.

Her arms find their way around him as soon as his wrap around her middle, and he doesn’t kiss her the way she expects. The way she wants. This is better.

This is the moment.

He holds her, tight enough that her lungs don’t all together appreciate it, but her heart wishes it were even closer, hopes for less space and more feelings, the light in his eyes reverberating through her entire goddamn soul until Emma is flush with emotion and magic in equal measure.

She hopes she doesn’t cry.

She blinks.

And the tears land on her cheeks.

“Damn.”

“Gods, I love you,” he says, kissing away the tears that suddenly won’t seem to stop. “That’s, I--with everything I’ve got, Emma.” “Cheater.” “I don’t like pumpkin either.”

Emma’s laugh is shaky, but that may be more to do with the lack of oxygen she’s getting at the moment. “But I don’t--” she starts, feet still hovering above the ground, “--How is this possible. I...how long has it been like this?” The tips of Killian’s ears go very red, very quickly.

“Babe?”

“I don’t know if it was today, specifically, but this is the first time I've--” He shifts her weight, eyes falling towards the ring that’s moved over the front of her dress. She exhales. That’s not helpful at all.

“Oh.” “It’s a rather depressing story, Swan. Which isn’t part of the plan, at all.” “No?” “No, I’d rather we steered well clear of that particular emotion.”

“Nautical pun.”

He hums, nosing at her cheek and her jaw and his arm must be tired. “When we were in Neverland,” Killian says, “and that magic wanted us to relive our worst memories, I--it wasn’t what you thought it was. At least not entirely. It was here, but it was…” He licks his lips, pulling his eyes back up and there’s no name for that color. Emma brushes her fingers across the scruff on his face, aimless patterns that make his breathing even out slightly. “I kept coming back, Swan. Not always because I wanted to. The Darkness, sometimes...it wanted a reminder, could feel me drifting and I’d end up here and I’d remember what happened and how much I--” “--I love you,” she cuts in, not sure if it’s right or fair, but it’s true and it always has been.

“I know. And that’s why it kept bringing me here. It never wanted me to believe that, but...well, darkness is a funny thing, Swan. It creeps up in you and there’s got to be something to pull you back or it’ll consume you.”

Emma can’t bring herself to ask the question. She wants to. Desperately. Wants to hear the words and let them sink into the moment as well, but it also feels a little selfish and that’s probably not right and--

“It was always you, Swan. Every single time.”

She’s still crying.

Still ridiculous. Still perfect.

“But I’d come here and nothing was ever alive. It was as if everything good had been ripped away and then stuffed into me and I--” Killian sighs, eyes going glossy, “--When we came back, I kept thinking about it. What might have happened to this place after the Darkness was destroyed because this was…” “The power of True Love?” Emma suggest.

He kisses the bridge of her nose. “Aye, exactly that. I came back once, before we left to find the Jolly, but it was exactly the same. Nothing. There was nothing here, like nothing had ever been here at all, even. And then we found Henry and I thought that might make a difference. Belief and what I--”

He keeps cutting himself off. Emma’s very selfish about sentence structure right now.

“That didn’t work?” she asks, well aware it’s a silly question. Killian shrugs. “But that’s...I mean, how is that possible? Darkness was gone and we’re…” Maybe sentence structure is overrated.

Killian smirks, a quirk of his eyebrows and lips that trail down the side of her neck. “My thought exactly,” he says. “This has been a rather involved plan, love.”

“Yeah?”

“Years, curses, bartering with a jeweler in Agrabah.”

Emma falls back to the ground. She’s surprised her jaw doesn’t land there as well. And Killian’s smirk gets stronger, the tip of his tongue pressed to the corner of his mouth. “Are you kidding me?” she demands, but he just keeps smiling, reaching into one of the pockets inside his jacket.

“It’s probably good I didn’t take the jacket off, huh?” “You are not funny.” “Hysterical,” he objects. “Although admittedly very late. I apologize for that, your highness.”

Emma scoffs, far too charmed by the whole thing. “What were you waiting for?” Killian’s smirk disappears, replaced by something serious and determined, a look she’s only seen a few times. The same look when she’d given him the sword and he promised to come back. He did. And so did she.

It just took them a few tries.

“I’d think about that day sometimes,” he says. “I’d come here and the Darkness would play tricks, try and change what I remembered. And it never really worked. I could remember it perfectly. Turning the corner and you were there, light in your fingers and hanging from your hair, and I could feel it. I knew--Gods, Emma I knew then. That you’d already worked your way into the center of everything, a brightness I wouldn't ever be able to recover from.” “That hasn’t always been a good thing.” “No,” Killian admits. “It hasn’t. And I won’t say that’s made it worth it. I would have--” He chuckles, brushing away more tears. “--I would have given up quite a bit of treasure if it meant we got a few moments uninterrupted. No crises, no prophecies, just...us.”

“We’re alone now.” “Aye, love, that was the point. This place, it’s--I took a step forward that day and my whole life changed, but you’re the one who found me, Swan. Over and over. Even when I didn’t want it.” “You were cursed.” “You’re really having a hard time taking compliments, aren’t you?” She laughs, tugging lightly on the charms around his neck. “I love you, Emma,” Killian continues, “and I have for as long as I could remember, even when I couldn't remember. And I wanted--well, I told you years ago that I would always be by your side, if you’d have me, and that’s never changed, love. I know there’s always going to be prophecy and some crises, but I am tired of waiting. I came here today and this was alive again and I--”

Emma curses. It’s not dignified. It’s not particularly royal. It’s certainly not romantic.

Killian blinks.

“Oh, I understand,” Emma gasps. Her teeth find her lower lip, realization bubbling in the pit of her stomach and working its way up her spine, mixing with magic and love and something else, something that needs words and confirmation and the petals around them move when the wind shifts again.

“Swan, what--” “--I didn’t even need David’s thing.” “What?” “Gods,” she exclaims, and she doesn’t know what to do with her hands. Killian is still holding a ring. From Agrabah. That he’s had for years. “It was us. This is us. We did this.” "You’re speaking in tongues, love.” “No, no, that’s--oh, Gods, this is not the way this was supposed to work.”

He blinks. And opens his mouth. Only to close it. More than once. He blinks again. “This? The field? Swan, I think that’s just magic and--” “--Exactly. That’s...that’s exactly it. It’s our magic.”

“Ours?”

Emma nods, enough fluttering that she’s a little worried it will make her buoyant at some point. “Yeah. Ours, it’s uh--” She’s never been good at words. She doesn’t think. She acts. She responds. She grabs Killian’s hand and places it on her stomach. His jaw drops.

“Emma.” “It’s probably good we got to the plan. There might be a royal scandal otherwise.” Killian shakes his head slowly, eyes never leaving where his hand rests and his thumb has started moving again. “How long have you known?” “I didn’t really. I, um...well, there were suspicions and my magic has been--” “--As strong as ever?” “Yeah,” she whispers. “And I, well, I might have had a plan too, but I wasn’t sure and then David had some charm and I got distracted trying to fix the iPod and--” Killian snorts, head falling to her shoulder. He’s going to dislocate his arm. That doesn’t seem to bother him either. “Anyway, I’m still pretty certain and now this is a thing. I think...I think it’s us, babe. True Love and a new start and probably something about life.” “The magic’s always very on the nose isn’t it?” “Yeah, exactly.” “You want to say it?” “Do you?” Emma challenges. “I haven’t heard any actual prop--” “--Will you marry me?” he asks, quick and earnest and she’s nodding almost immediately.

“Yes.”

He kisses her. She kisses him. Obviously.

And the ring fits, which is very likely a sign, but then Killian’s staring at her and it’s her turn or something less call and response.

More emotion.

Every emotion.

She rests her hand on his chest again, magic under her touch, and Killian’s fingers grip the front of her gown. That makes it easier.

“I’m pregnant.”

He lets out a sound unlike any Emma has ever heard. It rattles around in her, settles between her ribs and finds a rhythm with her pulse, a steady beat she’s going to think about every day for the rest of her life.

And she barely has a chance to take a breath before his lips are back on hers, soft and not, all at the same time, an opposite that doesn’t make sense, but is everything she’s ever wanted, tied up in one perfect moment.

Emma doesn’t know how long they stay there, but the moonlight never fades and she’s the one wearing the coat on by the time the first bird lands on the nearest branch, a piece of parchment tied to his leg. Killian chuckles, waving it off and--

“Just a few moments longer, love.” “Yeah, ok,” Emma nods, but they don’t go back to the castle, a burst of magic and the smell of salt, falling asleep tangled together with her head on his chest and his arm wrapped around her middle.

#cs ff #captain swan #cs fic #captain swan ff #all was golden in the sky #that stupid witch fic #the inevitability of me writing killian and ariel in the enchanted forest is very high #so if you're into that let me know and i'll probably just send you the doc

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let-it-raines · 5 years

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I wonder if you might be up for a silly/sweet/fluffy prompt... Very drunk Killian outs the CS relationship to all their friends by declaring his very taken status (get away you handsy nameless girl!) and his very very deep love for his Swan (quite loudly). Emma is exasperated cause they said they were gonna wait a bit longer but he’s too cute to deny at this point. Oh and she loves him too ;)

I know I haven’t written a prompt in awhile, but life has been busy and my other stories were getting top-billing when I sat down to write. But here’s a short little drabble that kind of matches up with this prompt. I may have altered a few details :D

It’s not every day that a furious man comes barging into her apartment, slamming doors that shake in their frame and tearing through cabinets in search of a bottle of rum, haphazardly misplacing glasses and plates all while murmuring curses under his breath. If this did happen every day, she’d be concerned, mostly because it would mean an upset, emotional man is breaking into her apartment. But today it’s her boyfriend, his inky black hair sticking up in several different directions like he’s been running his hands through it, something he only does when he’s frustrated.

He hasn’t said a word to her since he came inside, just muttered something about the rum and then started banging around her cabinets. If he wanted rum, he probably should have headed home or waited until they went out to celebrate Ruby’s thirtieth birthday tonight.

But instead he’s throwing some kind of fit all while she watches him from her spot on a barstool next to the island.

Finally the cabinets stop slamming and he turns around, his usually bright blue eyes a cloudier gray than usual, and his beard somehow unkept even though she knows that he shaved this morning. She knows because she watched him carefully do it. He’s got a bottle of water in hand, probably the exact opposite of what he was looking for, and a heaviness settles in her stomach. Something must have seriously upset him, which doesn’t happen often, and she has no idea what it could be. How could she have no idea?

She’s supposed to know him. He’s supposed to confide in her.

“Babe,” she cautiously begins, tentatively reaching up and brushing down his wild hair, nails scratching his scalp in the way that she knows he likes, “would you like to tell me why you’re being all dark and broody?”

“No.”

“Okay, then tell me what’s wrong. And that’s not a question.”

He huffs, looking up at the ceiling and clenching his jaw, his skin ticking underneath the scruff. She can’t remember the last time he got this frustrated with something. “I got passed over for the promotion at work.”

Oh.

She didn’t…she didn’t even know he was working for a promotion. He didn’t say anything. Her dad didn’t say anything. She thought that he was happy, content with what he was doing, but even if he was, this has to sting. He must have really wanted this, and she can see how much it’s hurting him.

It’s hurting her.

Why didn’t he tell her?

Her hand falls from his hair to caress his cheek, his skin hot to the touch, before she lets it fall down his arm and to his hand, tugging on his palm until he reluctantly follows her to the living room, plopping down on the couch. She straddles his lap, her knees going on either side of his thighs until she settles down in his legs with her hands wrapped around his neck and his hands resting on her hips, a heavy presence that steadies her despite everything.

He won’t look at her, though, his gaze trained on the living room window as emotion dances through his eyes, the cloudiness only increasing as they get a bit watery. The only reason she knows that he hasn’t zoned out is because he keeps tapping three dots into her side, something he’s always done to silently tell her that he loves her.

It happens anytime they’re somewhere out with their friends, their own secret way of sharing their feelings, and it makes her smile every damn time, even when he’s being obnoxious and tapping (smacking) her on the ass when she’s trying to get ready for work.

She taps him back, hitting his cheek with her forefinger three times, and it’s what gets him to look back at her, a tear escaping his eye that she quickly wipes away.

“Tell me, Killian.”

“I don’t want you to think less of me.”“Never.”

He scoffs at that, the self-loathing practically radiating off of him in waves. “I’m a bloody asshole who’s done nothing but screw up and then screw up again. And then I finally get on the right path, finally try to do something right, and then for what? Just to be dejected and rejected every damn time?”

“First of all, you are not a screw up or an asshole. You can be an ass sometimes, but you’re not an asshole.”

He rolls his eyes, looking up at the ceiling before looking at her with an emotionless stare, putting his mask back on. So obviously now was not the time to make a joke. Usually she can lighten the mood with her bad jokes. Killian’s the only person in the world who thinks she’s funny nearly all of the time.

“Killian, tell me what happened at work. I didn’t even know you were going for a promotion again. To what? Deputy Sheriff?”

“Aye.”“And what happened?”

“Your father gave it to Graham.”

Well that explains half of the anger. Her dad gave her ex-boyfriend a promotion over her current boyfriend…which is a weird situation that she doesn’t think anyone else outside of soap operas has ever been in, but here she is.

Her dad also doesn’t know about she and Killian. No one does. So she and Killian are literally the only two people who know about the weird dynamic that’s going on at Storybrooke’s police station. It’s…complicated.

“Graham is good at his job. You know that.”

“Fucking hell, Emma. You think you’d like to support me a bit.”

“Hey,” she bites, anger beginning to stir within her, “I support you in everything you do, but I’m not going to be here for some kind of testosterone-filled jealousy, got it?”

“Aye,” he groans, clenching his teeth, his grip on her hip tightening for a moment before he loosens it, seemingly realizing what exactly it is that he’s doing. “I’m sorry…I didn’t…I’m pissed off, and I’m obviously not thinking clearly, not that it gives me a right to be a jerk but – ”

“It’s fine,” she sighs, knowing that he’ll keep rambling and go into some kind of self-loathing stupor if she doesn’t stop him. “Just tell me.”

His jaw moves and his tongue clicks, but he nods, tapping her hip three times.

“A few weeks ago your father came to me and told me that he was looking to promote a new Deputy Sheriff. Obviously, I was never under the impression that I was the only one up for the job, but out of everyone there, I’ve been there the longest, I’m always on time, I have the best success rate over all of the other officers. I know it’s cocky to think I was pretty much a lock, but I…I thought I was going to get it.”

“You should have gotten that.”

He should have. And yeah, maybe she’s a little biased, but she also knows that it’s true. Killian kills himself at work almost every day in an attempt to prove something to himself, to prove that he’s not still the man who fell apart after his brother died. She doesn’t know why he does it, why he thinks he has something to prove, but she knows it must make him feel better in his own personal battle.

But he doesn’t have anything to prove. She doesn’t think so. She wasn’t around then, wasn’t around for the days that he says he doesn’t want to relive, but she sees the good in him now. She knows that he’s a good man.

God, he has to be hurting when she knows he’s been hyping himself up over this for the last few weeks.

“You only say that because that’s what you’re supposed to say.”

“No, I mean you really should have gotten it,” she promises. “Graham is good at his job, but you’re better. And you’re better at being in charge as well. Yeah, he’d probably make a good deputy sheriff, but you’d make a damn good one. I’m going to go talk my dad.”

She gets up, only for him to tug her back to him, his lips finding the corner of her mouth. “No, Swan. Don’t do that. I don’t want to get a job because I’m with you or because you talk to your dad. I want it because I earned it. Let’s just forget about it and go get ready for Ruby’s birthday.”

“You did earn it.”

He smiles sadly at her before shrugging his shoulders. “My time will come.”

-/-

“Damn,” Ruby whistles, sliding into the booth across from her, “dear old Jones looks nice tonight.”

He does. She thought that when they were leaving her apartment. He hadn’t bothered to go home before they went out, so he grabbed one of his Henley’s and an old plaid shirt of his that she likes to wear when cleaning. It’s tight on his arms, making his muscles obvious beneath it, and he’s got on her favorite pair of black jeans that have holes at the knees. She has absolutely no idea why he has those jeans, but she’s not going to complain.

The only thing that she’s going to complain about is the fact that he looks as good as he does, and she can’t do anything about it, not while they’re out with everyone.

Not until they decide to stop dating in secret.

When she first realized what they were doing, she felt like she was in some bad movie, but it…it was exciting, honestly. It was exciting to have this secret that only she and Killian knew about. And then after they became comfortable being together, it was nice not having to tell anyone else, nice not having anyone else try to interfere.

Their friends, well, they have boundary issues. Like, seriously. Emma can’t pee without someone walking in without a second thought. And as someone who likes her space, that just doesn’t work with her. Mostly, though, they have boundary issues when it comes to relationships. If she’s not in one, they’re trying to set her up on a date every other day. If she is in one, they might as well be going out on the dates with her.

Don’t even get her started on her mother. That may be the worst of all.

No, definitely the worst of all.

When it comes to she and Killian, well, they’ve been friends for so long, over half of a decade, and everyone always called them inevitable. It was like they didn’t have a choice, like they couldn’t be with someone else because everyone was always talking about how they should be together. And she knows that she didn’t have to listen to any of them, that Killian didn’t have to listen to any of them, but some things just managed to work themselves inside her head.

So she resisted. She firmly planted him in the “just friends” category, no switches, replacements, or substitutions necessary.

And that is pretty much the exact moment that she also knew that the “just friends” thing would never be true. It happened slowly, them realizing they were dating. He’d come to her apartment for dinner, she’d go to his to watch a movie. They’d go out to eat and to baseball games. Hell, one time Killian took her to New York for a weekend so she could see Wicked on Broadway simply because she mentioned really liking the clips she’s seen for her entire life.

“I found a discount, love,” Killian tells her when she asks why the hell he bought these tickets. He reaches up to scratch behind his ear, and she knows that he’s lying. But she’s not going to call him out on it. She’s just going to let him have this. It’s a sweet gesture, and who is she to complain.

She takes a step closer and wraps her arms around his neck. “Thank you, Jones.”

It was like a gradual progression of a relationship if she’s ever seen one. They’d say goodbye with a simple hug, then it was a kiss on the cheek, and then it was a long embrace. When they watched movies at one of their apartments, they started off on opposite sides of the couch only to continuously move closer together like it was the most natural thing in the world.

According to everyone else, it was.

But it was like she was living in the montage scene of a rom-com where they play some upbeat music and fast forward through life so that they don’t have to show actual relationship development. And then when it was over, they kissed.

It was a damn good kiss.

Like, fantastic.

Like, she wanted to experience that every day fantastic.

So she did.

And absolutely no part of her regrets it. Except for right now. She kind of regrets it right now because the man she loves is being ogled by several women in the bar, including her best friend, and she can’t really do anything about it. Not that she thinks Killian would even consider any of their advances. He’s flirtatious and can be raunchy sometimes, but he’s loyal to her. He loves her.

No part of her doubts that.

“He does look nice,” she tells Ruby, picking up her drink and taking a sip.

“By nice, you know I mean hot, right? Like, I need a fan and about ten minutes alone to calm myself down hot? Like, I want him to do a tequila shot off of me hot?”

A bit of anger burns within her, but she can’t let it. She won’t let it. She hates jealousy, hates the way it makes her feel, and she won’t let it consume him. She won’t.

“Yeah, I got that, Rubes.”

“I’m going to go ask him to dance with me. It’s my birthday after all.”

At that, Ruby gets up from her seat and practically sprints over to where Killian is sitting with Robin and Victor at the bar. Somehow she doesn’t trip in her heels and is quickly standing by Killian, running her fingers up his arm. She sees him protest the slightest bit and then Ruby must say something because he’s smiling and nodding his head as he gets up from his stool, taking one last sip of his rum so that he drowns out the glass.

The dancing is, well…the dancing is Ruby. It’s bold and seductive and full of her ass being grinded into Killian’s groin while he stands there swaying to the music, his shoulders a bit tense. He’s definitely awkward, and she doesn’t know what she’s supposed to do. Like, at all. Does she stay sitting in this booth watching? Does she excuse herself to go to the restroom? Does she go out there and dance with Ruby just as a way to get her best friend to stop grinding on her boyfriend?

(What a weird world this is.)

But before she can even make a decision, Killian is leaving the mosh of people dancing and heading back to the bar, holding his finger up and being handed another glass not a minute later. He downs it in one gulp, and she cringes imagining how that has to burn.

Her own glass is completely forgotten as he suddenly stalks toward her, a purpose in his step and a determined look in his eyes. She has no idea what’s happening, is still confused by everything that’s transpired in the past fifteen minutes, but suddenly his rough, warm hands are cupping her cheeks as he pulls her in for a kiss.

It’s…everything. At first, it’s shocking, and she doesn’t know what to do, her eyes staying open in surprise. But she’s kissed him who knows how many times. She knows how to do this, how to respond in kind, and most of all, she wants to. For a moment she doesn’t care about all of the hang ups she has with their friends, and she kisses the man she loves, sliding her lips over his and tasting the spice of the rum on his lips while her fingers thread in his hair.

His kiss is sloppier than usual, likely because of how much he’s been drinking, but she doesn’t care. She gives as good as she gets, flickering her tongue against the corner of his lips so that he growls, the sound that she loves to hear. It goes on and on and on until she can no long breathe, and when she pulls back, Killian’s looking down at her with wild blue eyes that are alight, alive even, nothing like the cloudy gray that they’ve been since he got home from work.

“What was that for?”

He taps his finger against her cheek three times, and she knows. “I love you, Emma.”

“I love you.” She caresses his face, pushing his hair back. “Why now? I thought we were waiting and sitting everyone down to talk.”

“Honestly?” he huffs before kissing her nose. “I’m about one drink away from being plastered, and I have spent all night talking about you. Seriously, all night. And I figured hell, why talk about how wonderful you are when I can just be with you?”

“You’re so romantic when you’re drunk.”“I am romantic all of the time, my love.”

“It’s a freaking birthday miracle,” Ruby squeals, poking her head into Emma’s vision. “Also,” she slaps Emma’s shoulder, “I can’t believe you just let me dance with your boyfriend like that.”

“Consider it my birthday gift to you, Rubes. But never again.”“Got it. Never again.”

-/-

When her dad steps down from his job two years later, Killian runs for Sheriff and wins.

Sheriff Killian Jones has a nice ring to it.

The ring on her finger is nicer.

#cs prompts #cs fic #cs ff #captain swan

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byunnct · 6 years

Text

new years fireworks [jaehyun nct]

pairing: jung jaehyun x reader

summary: college!au. it seems you become jaehyun’s new year’s resolution

a/n: in celebration of me having no plans for nye, here is a poorly written nye party with jae!!

When you think of New Year’s Eve, you usually end up thinking of a New Year’s kiss not long after.

Whether it’s a stranger, friend, close friend, boyfriend, girlfriend, person, it’s an exciting tradition that you think is valued too much, but is a fun idea nonetheless. With that kiss to welcome the year in mind, there’s students everywhere chatting up strangers in hopes they will have someone to kiss at midnight. It’s entertaining to watch people both succeed and fail and how they deal with it. You’ve watched the same boy get rejected three times now. He’s not losing hope, though.

You wish you had his confidence and perseverance. Maybe then you could get over that damned Jung Jaehyun.

The tall, handsome, very pale bread-looking schmuck has ruined your life since the day you met him. You’re still angry that he had such an effect on you the first time you met, rendering you to short, quiet sentences and a furiously beating heart. He’s a person whose always had attention from everyone – whether it be romantically, platonically or just to appreciate his God-like appearance. You’d maybe go as far as to say he’s the heartthrob of your college, drawing people in with his good looks and keeping them with a personality to die for. Jaehyun’s popularity is undeniable, and you’ve witnessed confessions to him on several occasions and had to watch disheartened classmates awkwardly scuffle away after being rejected.

Your best friend, Johnny, who coincidentally is how you’re more familiar with Jaehyun than the average person, always tells you to give Jaehyun a chance because “you two would get along so well!” but in some weird, backward defence mechanism, instead of befriending him, making things easier for Johnny (as he always complains), you find yourself avoiding him at all costs.

No casual ‘hello’s in passing, no small talk if you’re behind him in the line at the coffee shop, no associating with Jaehyun in any way especially if someone comes to you with the idea that “since you know Johnny..”, and definitely no meeting up with Johnny when you know they’ve been in the same lecture or even in the same proximity.

Better safe than sorry, you tell yourself. Keep a good distance.

In hindsight, you think it’s because you’re so focussed on Jaehyun in your head that you don’t realise the real thing is in front of you, waving a too good looking hand, looking confused but still with a smirk on his lips. He says your name (it sounds beautiful) and his smirk softens, “I thought you were ignoring me for a second,”

“Ah, sorry, must be the alcohol.” You smile. You’re lying, you’ve had two sips of whatever is in your cup, but you’re panicking a little and you’re unsure of how to act or of what Jaehyun wants.

“It’s cool,” He moves to stand next to you against the wall and takes a sip of his drink, “How’re you enjoying the party?”

You take a deep breath in, “As far as I’m aware no one’s thrown up yet, and to me that means everything is going swell so far.”

You notice Jaehyun laughs a little too much at your response and then glances around the room. “Yeah, let’s hope neither of us are around when all of that goes down.”

With a nod, as casually as you can you ask, “So who did you come with?”

“Just me.” He smiles.

You expected that he had come with someone, anyone, whether it was friend or love interest or at least Mark, a boy in the lower year who is adored across campus, but before you can question it Jaehyun is speaking again.

“I’m here for someone, though. Not with, for. I’m keeping an eye out for them.” He looks strangely smug and stares directly into your eyes.

Jealousy flares inside of you. His words hurt more than you’d like to admit, the fact that he’s here for someone that isn’t you but is here talking to you, wasting time before the one he’s waiting for arrives, and then you feel angry because he seems smug after breaking your heart, even though he has no idea he’s done such a thing. You still blame him.

“Oh,” You say, stepping away, preparing to leave, “Well I hope you find them.”

You turn and begin to leave but there’s slim fingers wrapping around your arm and Jaehyun has grabbed your wrist.

“Let’s go outside and talk,” He says gently.

You really don’t want to but at the same time you really want to. You’re conflicted and confused, you want to leave the party and never look back and pretend this encounter never happened, but you also want to go outside with Jung Jaehyun, the person you refuse to believe you’re crushing on but totally are, and use this rare opportunity to get closer to him. You stare at him and curse under your breath; you can’t say no to his face when it looks so angelic.

Good looking people have it so easy.

When you walk into the backyard there’s a large pool that’s surrounded by wooden loungers, enough to seat at least the college’s sports team. The trees and bushes have been decorated in celebration of New Year’s Eve, fairy lights of mainly white and a blue hue strewn across the leaves of the bushes and branches of the trees. There’s some leftover Christmas decorations still dotted around and you make a mental note to buy yourself a light-up snowman next year. Even with the misplaced Christmas décor, the garden looks.. romantic.

Jaehyun directs you to one of the loungers by the pool and when you sit you expect him to take the lounger next to you, but the entire chair shifts slightly when Jaehyun places himself right next to you, arm pressed against yours.

He asks you about New Year’s resolutions and you tell him something simple off the top of your head, something to do with experiencing firsts, and you feel your cheeks burn when he responds, “I bet you’ll do that easily!” with a warm, wide smile. In return you ask him if he has any and he smiles cryptically and says, “Nothing special. Keep my grades up, that kind of stuff. I’d like to get closer to certain people.”

You’re worried of what the reaction would be if you pried about who he was talking about, so you elect to not bother asking. There’s a part of you that doesn’t want to know anyway, since you’re sure you are not one of the people he’d like to get closer to.

You talk for a while, and you think everything’s going just fine when Jaehyun suddenly says, “You don’t like me very much, do you?”

You laugh nervously, startled, “What? Of course I like you-”

“Johnny already told me.”

You sigh, “Johnny.”

You’re not entirely sure what Johnny could’ve said, it’s not like you’ve said anything too offensive or stand-offish regarding Jaehyun. You prefer to avoid the topic of the boy altogether, purposely not saying anything when he’s mentioned or brought up in conversation.

Jaehyun, however, isn’t really offended by the ‘rumour’ that you don’t like him. Johnny’s said a lot about you, mainly good since Johnny’s just a good guy, and when it comes to you and Jaehyun all Johnny’s said is, “Y/N doesn’t really say anything about you.” Which Jaehyun thinks is a little worse than you bad-mouthing him behind his back. The real feelings of dislike come from how you avoid him, how you obviously withdraw yourself from a conversation if he’s brought up, and how you think he doesn’t notice, but Johnny is a common interest for you two - he plans to use this to his advantage so he can talk to you for longer.

“Yeah,” Jaehyun giggles, “He’s a special one, right?”

You look exhausted as you say, “He stood up and did his parrot impression for the entire party earlier.”

Before he can respond, people start flooding out of the backdoor of the house, stumbling into the garden and accidentally spilling some of their drinks onto the grass. Some are chanting some song or ritual, and others are shouting something about how the countdown will begin after fireworks.

“Maybe we should move away from the pool,” Jaehyun mumbles. As you walk towards a tree near the back, you can feel Jaehyun’s hand hovering around your waist and a voice in your head whispers about how’d nice it’d be if he just.. moved a little closer so he was touching you.

The backyard becomes so crowded it looks as if you’re part of an audience for a show. You’re completely surrounded and it makes you feel somewhat helpless, like if you wanted to walk away from Jaehyun now you wouldn’t be able to. Whatever happened, you would have to deal with it and the consequences. Maybe you should’ve left when you had the chance.

At one point, a particularly drunk girl comes staggering through the crowd and pushes you slightly, causing you to take a step back into Jaehyun who is right behind you. Instinctively Jaehyun gently puts his hands on your waist, stabilising you. He’s so close you can feel his hard chest against your back and he mumbles a quiet, “are you okay?” directly into your ear. You twitch slightly and curse him in your mind; you swear he purposely sounds breathy as he speaks just to cause the colour in your cheeks.

The fireworks are finally let off, shooting into the air and it’s a beautiful sight with a mixture of colours that complement each other in the night sky. You flinch a couple of times from the loud bangs and Jaehyun gives a little chuckle every time from behind you, causing his chest to rumble and you feel it - it’s so nice and warm you want to scream.

Then the countdown to the New Year begins.

Everyone around you starts shouting numbers, couples already coming together to look at one another as the clock ticks down. Jaehyun pinches your side slightly, saying, “Y/N,” and turns you around to face him.

The look on his face makes your heart speed up too fast for your liking. He looks nervous, as if he’s not sure what to say or do, but he’s smiling so his dimples show and his cheeks are bunched up and make his eyes smaller. Despite the nervousness, there’s also a look of warmth and anticipation on his face. It’s endearing.

Just as the countdown reaches zero, Jaehyun moves his arms to wrap around your waist and he softly asks, “Can I kiss you?”

Instead of answering you lean up, wrap your arms around his neck and place your lips onto his. Everyone starts cheering and even though you know everyone is cheering because it’s the New Year, you can’t help but feel like everyone is cheering for you and Jaehyun because you’ve been wanting this for so long (and Jaehyun has too).

You decide there and then that 2018 will be a year of firsts, 2018 will be different, and that’s solidified by the sparkle in Jaehyun’s eyes when he looks at you after you pull away.

#nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct u scenarios #nct 127 scenarios #jung jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun scenarios #kpop scenarios #times like these i realise i really.........have a long way to go as a writer #i hope everyones 2018 is beautiful

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thebeltanequeen · 7 years

Text

Usagi vs. Chibiusa! An Epic Battle of Personality and Power!

A problem I have ALWAYS had with the series has been the blending together of Usagi and Chibiusa, in any form of SM. Why do the girls need to share the same birthday, blood type, name, powers and Mamo when Chibs was being weird about it?? In the anime they even have the same dress!!!! It drives me crazy!!!! They are individuals!!!! I was so happy when I read the manga to find out that Chibs wasn’t actually a brat, was a tiny cinnamon bun, and had HER OWN FREAKING DRESS. I CANNOT TELL YOU HOW MUCH I APPRECIATE THAT. Because first of all, Usagi is the number one protagonist (my Usagi Stan is coming out… I don’t apologize). The show is GASP about Usagi!!! Not to say Chibs isn’t extremely important or that she doesn’t deserve development. But one huge reason I dislike Super S more now is because it made it about Chibs. Sailor Moon isn’t about Chibs. It is about the Sailor freaking Moon of the present.

However, it is also about how much insecurity these two characters have about their identities already. Usagi is worried about not being good enough or strong enough for her loved ones, so let’s add in a bratty clone who constantly makes fun of, disrespects and embarrasses her. Ugh.

In the manga, precious Chibs is insecure because her mom is legit the most Powerful. Person. Ever. Who wouldn’t be insecure about stepping up to the plate?? She’s worried about being in her mother’s shadow, being constantly compared to her, living up to the name and legacy her parents eventually pass down to her. Not to mention people think she is a freak because she has been a child for nine hundred years. People claim she isn’t a real princess. That sucks!!! The last thing Chibs needs is to become a carbon copy of Neo Queen Serenity/Usagi. It only makes it easier to compare herself to her mother!! And who actually wants to have the same birthday as anyone (but especially a family member), the same name (in part), and the same FREAKING PRINCESS DRESS (will never not be salty) as their mom??

My mom is the most important person in my life. I love her more than anything. I am her miniature in practically every way. PRACTICALLY. But here’s the thing…. I’m not my mom…. GASP!! We have a lot of differences, even though we are so similar. Shocking right?? Please. This is one thing the classic anime nails. Usagi and Chibs have a ton of similarities but also vast differences in personality. For one, Usagi isn’t the legit worst (ahem moving on), but they weren’t the good kind of differences usually. Point is, my mom and I are individuals. And we have lots of little things that make us so. These little things being how we like to dress every day, how we react to situations, our birthdays, our favorite colors, our favorite foods, our hobbies and yes even our blood types are different. You can be strikingly similar and not be a copy of someone.

I don’t want to be a carbon copy of my mom. Who does?? I want to be myself and I want my mom to be herself. And we love each other that way. Usagi and Chibs deserve more individuality. I know Usagi grows a lot as a person when Chibs comes along, but she can still do that WITHOUT them having to share everything. And Chibs should be allowed to grow into her own version of a future Sailor Moon without worrying about people constantly expecting her to act like her mom. And about Usagi’s selfishness and her jealousy (though some of it is definitely misplaced) you gotta think about this realistically. If you are going about your teenage life, hanging with friends and smooching your boyfriend, and all the sudden your future CHILD came into the picture and is TOO MUCH like you and wants to live your life, would teenage you NOT have been upset?? I would have been pissed!! After the initial shock, fascination and excitement anyway. I would have been like “This is great, I’m glad I have a child in the future, but this isn’t your time yet kid. This isn’t your life to live. This isn’t your youth, it is mine.” If my future child was disrespectful, tricked my entire family into believing she was there all along, and was copying me in every way I would get DAMN annoyed for sure. You didn’t give birth to them yet! You don’t have that connection in your time! So they don’t 100% feel like your kid! I know Chibs was forced to go back in time, but I am trying to get you to see this from Usagi’s point of view. I constantly see people sticking up for Chibs, which they should because she went through a super tough time, but I am sick of everyone in the show blaming Usagi for everything. She is legit 14 when it happens. It’s not like she was mentally prepared to be a mother and to have the selflessness and patience motherhood requires. She is just acting her age. Anyone else would do the same.

It is Usagi’s present. Chibs is in her mom’s world, not the world she belongs in. I am wholeheartedly on board with manga Chibs getting her own story as a senshi and kicking ass with the Amazon quartet. Actually, that would be fantastic GIVE IT TO ME NOW!! But it needs to be a separate journey. It needs to be Chibiusa’s journey. Sailor Moon is not it. It is Usagi’s time to come into her own, ascend to the throne and take her place as Queen and champion. Chibiusa’s time will come, but it is not her story. It is Usagi’s. And Usagi deserves to be the only princess with that dress dammit all.

#sailor moon #90's sailor moon #chibiusa #usagi tsukino

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