the naval officers' ball

She Steals the Sun and Shuts Out the Light

“Are people in your realm truly so little-educated in dancing?” He seems genuinely curious. “It seems everyone learned in the Enchanted Forest.”

Post-5B, super-fluffy domestic… uh, fluff. ~2600 words.


Emma takes time off. They take time off.

The first few days are a haze of sleep and soft sheets and making love and fucking (Emma’s noticed a distinct difference between the two depending on how desperate they are for each other at any given moment and relishes them both). They hardly come up for air at first, scarcely leaving the bed for the odd shower or trek to the fridge, but it never lasts long before they come together again in a dance of lips and tongue and skin.

The fog slowly lifts. They drink in their fill of each other again and again and again until it’s nearly been a week and they realize they haven’t really seen the sun in days, only soft light filtered through heavy curtains. As loathe as she is to leave their house (their house – it’s such a big idea that settles so easily in her heart) there’s something to it, walking down the street hand-in-hand to meet her family at Granny’s and then a detour to the grocery store on the way home.

It’s so simple, family lunches and perfunctory shopping with the man she loves.

She’s waited 28 years for this, to do these things. It’s been far longer than that for Killian and her heart aches at the happiness on his face, at how he’s relaxed and easy in a way she’s never seen before, his kisses no longer desperate, his hand at her back less protective and more content.

It’s like they can finally breathe together. It’s like they were meant for this.

Keep reading