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Chapter Text

Chapter 1: The Saviour is sick

It started with a sneeze. A violent, roof-shaking sneeze that echoed through the town like a cannon blast. Regina looked up from her book, scowling toward the sound coming from her front porch. Another sneeze followed, louder and more pitiful.

“Please don’t tell me that’s your father,” she muttered.

Henry peered up from his homework on the couch and winced. “It is.”

Another sneeze, and then a groan. Regina rolled her eyes.

“For the love of- why is he even out here? He should be at the loft.”

“He was mom, but the loft’s too loud. Grandma is raising the baby, and the baby doesn’t stop crying, and grandpa is fixing the bathroom using a nail gun.”

Regina arched a brow. “And what am I supposed to do with that?”

Henry turned those big, pleading, puppy-dog eyes on her. The ones that she can’t say no to. The ones that had once convinced her to get a pet, hamster, which died on next day.

“Mom..please. Just one night. He’s miserable. You can quarantine him in the guest room or make him sleep in the garage. Don’t send him back, pretty please. It’s giving him migraine.”

Another sneeze.

“Right now, I’m getting a migraine.”

“Please?” Henry leaned forward, almost hovering over her. “If he dies from the flu, I’ll never forgive myself.”

Regina’s lip twitched. “It’s only a cold, Henry.”

“Still fatal,” he said seriously.

With a heavy sigh, she rose to open the door. She’ll regret this.

Emmett Swan stood there, hunched in a red leather jacket, looking like a plague-ridden demigod. His golden hair was messier than usual, his eyes were red with fever, and his face looked pale but not healthy pale.

“Hi,” he rasped. “I brought tissues and despair.”

“And germs,” she corrected, stepping aside for him.

Emmett stumbled inside and dramatically walked to the couch. “This is the end of me.”

“Oh, please, shut up.”

He flopped onto her couch like a fallen warrior. Henry scurried over to tuck a blanket over him.

“You still alive, good sign, Dad.”

“I know,” Emmett wheezed.

Regina pinched the bridge of her nose. Here is the trouble to begins.

Dinner was an event: another word, a disaster. Regina had started a simple soup, something light and nourishing. She told Henry to keep an eye on it for three minutes while she went to the toilet. In those three minutes, he had added an entire stick of cinnamon, hot sauce, and something that he thought was needed in her soup. 

“I thought he’d like something sweet and spicy!” Henry protested when Regina stared at the red bubbling concoction like it had personally insulted her.

“Henry,” Emmett croaked from the couch, “I love you, kid, but I’m not trying to die tonight.”

Regina took over with a big sigh, just three minutes, and the war began. She’s shooing Henry away and testing the soup, her face is grimace. She’s fixing it with, adding herbs and balancing the flavor like a potion master.

“You didn’t poison the saviour,” she told her son. “Be proud.”

Henry beamed. Emmett tried to sit up, but Regina gently pushed him back down.

“Relax. You’ll pass out before you finish this soup.
“Fierce,” he whispered, grinning up at her through glassy eyes. “I like it,”

“I can hit you with the ladle.”

An hour later, Emmett was sitting at the table with a blanket over him because his jacket was feeling uncomfortable. Henry also had deemed him “Too sick to wear leather anyway.”

Regina placed the hot bowl of soup in front of him.

He blinked. “Thank you, Regina.”

“I’m not that heartless.”

He chuckled, then winced. “Ow. This headache will kill me.”

Henry, holding a spoon too close to his mouth, tried to feed him.
“Open wide!”

Emmett blinked. “What are you-”

Henry spooned the soup with such force that it almost went up Emmett’s nose.

“I got it, buddy. Thanks.” He gave Regina a help me look.

She sighed and moved around the table. Gently guided Henry back to his seat.

“I’ll feed him.”

“But-”

“I will,” she said firmly.

When Emmett looked up at her with mock tears in his eyes, she rolled hers. “Please, don’t.”

“What? I’m just..overwhelmed by the nurturing energy in this kitchen.”

“I’m about to nurture you into unconsciousness.”

Henry laughed so hard he nearly choked.

After dinner, Regina cleaned up while Henry showed Emmett her living room collection of candles. (“Don’t touch that one, it’s French.”) The smell of eucalyptus and lavender floated through the air, along with the soft hum of an old record player.

Eventually, it was bedtime.

“For me?” Emmett asked, stretching on the couch. Regina was giving him/magic him his pajamas.

“You didn’t have your bag with you.”

Henry, now in his Marvel pajamas, came bouncing down the stairs.

“Wait!” he shouted. “Wasn’t Dad supposed to stay in your room?”

Regina froze halfway through to tell him not to shout.

“I beg your pardon?”

Henry looked proud, like he’d just solved world hunger. “It’s warmer there! And it’ll be easier if he needs help. You know, in the night.”

Regina turned slowly, eyes wide. “Henry Daniel Mills.”

Henry grinned. “Just saying, it’s logical.”

“It’s not. It’s intrusive. He’s staying in the guest room.”

Emmett, smugly sipping tea like a little gremlin, raised his brow. “Only the guest room?”

Regina gave him a look that could kill. Henry giggled again.

“You are both impossible.”

But she led Emmett to the guest room anyway.

She opened the door of her guest room for him, and Emmett stepped inside. Taking in the soft light, the crisp sheets, the smell of chamomile.

“This is nicer than my room.”

“I choose what's best, dear.”

He turned to look at her. “Thank you, Regina. Truly.”

She nodded, suddenly aware of the way his voice rasped in a way that was…annoyingly attractive. 

“If you need anything, my room is on the right. End of hallway.”

He smirked. “Anything?”

She rolled her eyes. “Goodnight, Emmett.”

He chuckled as she walked away.

The next morning, Regina woke up with start to the sound of something shattering.

In her kitchen.

Quickly putting on her silk robe, she padded downstairs and stopped short.

Emmett Swan, sniffling, messy hair, doesn’t look any better than yesterday, was leaning over her stove, fighting something in a pan.

“What are you doing?” She demands.

He turned, grimacing. “Attempting to make breakfast.”

Regina crossed her arms. “By destroying my cookware?”

Henry burst into the kitchen with sleep in his eyes. “What happened here?”

“Your dad is destroying my kitchen.”

Regina took over without missing a beat, pushing Emmett gently aside with one hand.

“I suppose I should’ve known better than to let him near my kitchen.”

“Hey. It’s not that bad.” Emmett protested.

“Yes, it’s worse.”

They ate at the table together - Henry still half asleep, Emmett is sniffly and too warm to touch, and Regina is sipping coffee like it was lifeblood.

“I would marry you for your cooking,” Emmett said

“And I’m not regretting saying no.”
“What!..you wound me”

Henry groaned. “You two are so weird.”

Regina smiled faintly.

Later, when Emmett got up to leave, she followed him to the door.

“Are you sure you're feeling better?” she asked.

He nodded slowly, slipping into his jacket. “Thanks to you.”

She shrugged, pretending her heart didn’t skip for him. “You can stay for another night.”

He raised a brow. “That sounds like an invitation, Madam Mayor.”

Their eyes met. Quiet settled between them.

“I can stay in your guest room,” Emmett added with a wink, “it’s better than my room anyway.”

She smirked. “I have a garage, you know,”

“But it doesn’t come with breakfast. Or you.”

Before she could reply, Henry shouted from inside, “Dad, if you kiss her, I’m moving out!”

They both laughed.

Chapter Text

Regina Mills loathed fairs.

The noise. The crowds. The sticky fingers touching things that shouldn’t be touched. Children high on sugar are running like untamed wolves. It was everything she despised packed into one chaotic, overly festive afternoon.

And yet… here she was. Again.

“Smile, Madam Mayor!” called Archie as she passed the cotton candy booth.

She offered a thin-lipped grimace and waved like a queen on the verge of abdication. The only reason she tolerated this annual torture was because her son loved it—and apparently, so did his father.

“Regina!” came the joyful shout.

Speak of the devil, and he shall appear.

Emmett Swan jogged toward her with Henry perched on his shoulders, both of them holding matching caramel apples and already covered in suspicious amounts of powdered sugar and joy.

“Don’t you look thrilled,” Emmett teased, eyes sparkling.

“Deliriously,” Regina muttered, adjusting her fitted blazer.

Henry beamed. “We’ve already been on the carousel twice! And Dad almost threw up on the teacups!”

“They spin faster than I remembered,” Emmett defended, licking caramel off his thumb.

“Try standing still while supervising a town full of people pretending calories don’t exist.”

Emmett leaned closer, grinning. “You could pretend to have fun.”

“I am pretending. Very well, I might add.”

Henry pouted. “Please come with us, Mom. Just one ride? The Ferris wheel?”

She sighed. “You two are worse than the Evil Queen’s worst minions.”

“That means we’re winning!” Emmett declared, already dragging her toward the rides.

She ended up riding the Ferris wheel twice, playing ring toss (which she won because, of course, she did), and even accepting a suspiciously pink slushy. Henry clung to Emmett the whole time, and the two of them ran around the fairgrounds like giant sugar-powered toddlers.

Regina watched them with exasperated fondness. They were insufferable. Loud. Messy.

And she hadn’t laughed that much in weeks.

“Okay,” she finally said as they lined up for fried Oreos. “That’s enough. You’ve both exceeded your sugar quotas for the year.”

“But—” Henry started.

“No.”

“Just—”

“No.”

“Mom—”

She shut him up with one sharp raised brow.

Henry huffed dramatically. Emmett just grinned, cheeks slightly flushed from all the running and eating and probably flirting.

“We’ll switch to lemonade,” he promised.

“I don’t trust anything that comes out of a truck in a paper cup.”

It started raining sometime between the petting zoo and the popcorn cart.

Not a drizzle. Not a romantic drizzle.

A full, sky-cracking, shoe-drenching downpour.

Regina shrieked when a gust of wind caught her coat. Henry squealed and ducked under Emmett’s arm. Emmett was already trying to lead them toward the covered vendor stalls.

“Over here—!”

Regina slipped first, her heel catching on the wet grass. She reached out automatically—for stability, for survival—and caught Emmett’s jacket.

He was also slipping.

“ Regina—! ”

And just like that, they went down.

Right into the mud, a messy tangle of limbs and coats and...

Their lips collided.

Soft. Sudden. Surreal.

Her eyes flew open. He did too.

It wasn’t a kiss, not really—not intentional. More like a crash. But their mouths met. Warm. Close. Real.

For one strange heartbeat, neither of them moved.

Then Henry screamed.

“YOU’RE KISSING!”

Regina jerked back so fast she almost headbutted Emmett.

“I did not—that was—!”

“Are you—are you dating?!” Henry gasped, eyes wide as saucers.

“No!” Regina sputtered, cheeks flaming. “It was an accident! ”

Emmett raised his hands quickly, already trying to calm the storm.

“Buddy—hey—there was mud. Slipping. No romance. Zero percent.”

Regina stood, mortified, mud on her sleeve and mortification in every fiber of her being.

Henry squinted between them, suspicious.

“You both looked weirdly okay with it.”

“I was in shock,” Regina snapped.

“I was concussed,” Emmett added helpfully.

Henry crossed his arms. “Mhm.”

They got home drenched, muddy, and oddly quiet.

Henry ran upstairs to shower, leaving Regina and Emmett to awkwardly hover in her foyer, still dripping.

“Sorry,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “For the… incident.”

She sighed, pushing her wet hair back. “It’s fine. It was an accident, you didn’t do it on purpose.”

“Would’ve been smoother if I had,” he muttered under his breath.

She shot him a look.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he said innocently.

Henry thundered down the stairs in dry pajamas. “Dad! Stay the night!”

Regina groaned. “No—”

“Please?” Henry clasped his hands together like a little gremlin monk. “We’re all wet and cold, and you’ve already kissed, so it’s basically family night!”

“ Henry! ”

“I’m just saying!”

Emmett coughed, clearly trying not to laugh. “Well… I do know where the guest room is.”

Regina choked on her own breath.

“Excuse me?!”

Emmett blinked innocently. “I’m just saying. If I’m invited.”

Regina stared at him. Henry looked hopeful. She looked between the two of them—her chaotic son and his mischievous father.

And then she sighed, long and heavy.

“Fine.”

Henry whooped.

Regina glared at Emmett. “Guest room.”

He held up his hands. “Cross my heart.”

“You better not.”

Later that night, the house was quiet again.

Regina, curled up in bed in fresh silk pajamas, stared at the ceiling.

That accidental kiss—it meant nothing. It had to mean nothing.

But the warmth of it, the way his lips had felt—

She turned over with a grunt and buried her face in the pillow.

Stupid fair. Stupid mud. Stupid Emmett Swan.

The next morning, the smell of coffee and frying eggs drew him out of bed.

He padded into the kitchen in his shorts and found Regina at the stove.  

Emmett stared. “It’s smell nice.” Regina is startle with that.

Henry was at the table, already munching toast and kicking his feet.

“Mom made breakfast!” he announced.

Regina handed him a mug of coffee. Their fingers brushed.

She didn’t pull away.

He didn’t either.

“I added cinnamon for you,” she said.

Emmett grinned. “Thank you.”

Henry groaned. “Please, you two are weird now.”

Regina smirked. “Be quiet and eat your eggs.”

As Emmett set the plate in front of her, he leaned in and whispered, just for her—

“For the record… even accidental, it was a pretty great kiss.”

Her cheeks flushed.

Maybe she didn’t hate fairs quite as much anymore.

Chapter Text

Regina wasn’t expecting a knock at her door in the late afternoon. Especially not the knock that followed a text from Henry saying, “Dad’s being stupid again.”

She opened the door to find Emmett Swan leaning against the frame with a sheepish grin—and a bloody eyebrow.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake.”

“Hi,” he said, trying for charm.

“You’re bleeding.”

“I noticed,” he replied, before wincing. “You should see the other guy.”

“I should see the idiot who let himself get hit in the face. What were you even doing?”

“Leroy and I had little disagreement at the Rabbit Hole. Things got a little... dramatic.”

“Of course they did,” she sighed, ushering him in with one hand and already summoning a glowing ball of light with the other. “Sit down. You’re dripping on my floor.”

“I missed you too,” he muttered, lowering himself into the kitchen chair.

She stood over him, lips tight, inspecting the cut. “This’ll leave a scar if you don’t shut up and let me fix it.”

“You like scars,” he teased. “Battle-hardened, broody…”

Her fingers pressed a little harder than necessary. “Hold still.”

The magic shimmered at her fingertips, her brow furrowed in focus as she slowly closed the gash above his eyebrow. Emmett sat surprisingly still, green eyes studying her face rather than her work. Her hair was tucked behind her ear, jaw set, lashes dark against her cheekbones.

It wasn’t until she leaned in a bit closer that the tension shifted, almost like gravity pulled them in.

“You’re very close,” he murmured, voice softer now.

“I’m healing you.”

He tilted his head slightly. “And if I said I wanted another kind of healing?”

Regina didn’t answer. The air between them buzzed, thick with unspoken possibility. Her hand lingered near his jaw.

Then—

“Are you two going to kiss or something?” Henry’s voice called from the doorway, cracking the moment like glass.

Regina jerked back so fast she nearly knocked her chair over.

“I—Henry!”

“What?” he blinked innocently, biting into a granola bar. “It looked like one of those movie scenes. You know, the ‘almost kiss then a surprise entrance’ thing.”

Emmett groaned, touching his temple. “Such a brat.”

“Language!” Regina snapped, half-mortified, half-flustered.

Henry raised an eyebrow. “I’ll pretend not to know what that means, but I’m telling Mom you were gonna kiss.”

“I am your mom.”

“Oh yeah.”

Dinner that night was Regina's cooked for them: lasagna, garlic bread, and an unnecessarily elaborate salad. Cooking was her way of anchoring herself, and frankly, the kitchen was safer than accidentally flirting with Emmett in front of their son.

Emmett, for his part, obeyed orders and sat at the table with a frozen bag of peas on his eyebrow. His ego seemed far more bruised than his body.

“Do I get dessert for being a good patient?” he asked.

“You get to live,” Regina replied dryly.

Henry looked between them. “Are you two ever gonna get normal again?”

“This is normal,” Emmett and Regina said at the same time.

They stared at each other. Regina turned back to her salad with a quiet sigh.

After dinner, Regina clapped her hands once. “Alright. Showers. All of you. You’re both still sticky from being sweaty all day, and now you’ve added bar blood to the mix.”

“It’s not bar blood, it’s mine,” Emmett said helpfully.

“Shower. Now.”

Henry pointed at Emmett. “You first. You’re grosser.”

Regina looked skyward. “My life has become a disaster.”

With everyone clean and full, Henry made his final declaration of the night:

“Movie night.”

Regina opened her mouth to protest, but he had already tossed three blankets onto the couch and was flipping through the family-friendly section of Netflix like a small dictator. Emmett raised an eyebrow.

“You allow him to run the house like this?”

“I pick my battles,” Regina muttered.

They settled in eventually—Regina with a glass of wine, Emmett with a beer, and Henry in the middle like a smug little king.

Somewhere between the animated dragons and heartfelt voiceover, Henry began to doze. His head dropped against Regina’s arm, his tiny hand clutching the blanket. Regina smiled softly, brushing a curl off his forehead.

Emmett saw it. That smile. The one she rarely wore—unguarded, warm, just for her son.

He didn’t dare ruin it.

But she leaned back a bit after that, just enough for her head to rest gently against his shoulder.

He went completely still.

He could smell her shampoo. Feel the light weight of her against him. Her breathing slowed, gentle and steady. And he sat there, content and warm and terrified to move in case he ruined it.

It was the kind of moment he hadn’t realized he wanted so badly.

She trusted him enough to fall asleep like this.

He let his cheek rest lightly against the top of her head and closed his eyes.

When the credits rolled, Emmett stirred.

Henry was out cold, snoring softly against the blanket. Regina shifted, blinking awake slowly as Emmett gently nudged her.

“Hey,” he whispered. “Henry is already out.”

She straightened with a sleepy blink. “What time is it?”

“Late,” he said. “I’ll carry him.”

She nodded, still a little dazed. “Alright.”

Carefully, Emmett gathered Henry in his arms and stood. The boy barely moved, mumbling something about dragons in his sleep. Regina followed them to the hallway, watching as Emmett tucked their son into bed with surprising gentleness.

She waited by the door while Emmett pulled the blanket up and smoothed Henry’s hair. When he stepped out into the hallway, she offered a quiet, “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For… tonight.”

He smiled, soft and earnest.

“Good night, Regina.”

He leaned in and brushed a kiss to her cheek. Just a whisper of contact—enough to warm her skin without daring for more.

She didn’t stop him.

Didn’t flinch.

Her eyes met his for a long second afterward.

“Good night, Emmett.”

And maybe—just maybe—she didn’t annoyed of him being here as much anymore.

Chapter Text

Regina unlocked her front door with a sigh. Her heels clicked softly against the foyer tile as she stepped inside, shrugging off her coat with one hand and rubbing at her temple with the other.

Meetings. Endless meetings. Zoning disputes, department budget discussions, and a truly agonizing hour with a town resident complaining about squirrels stealing her garden gnomes.

She barely managed to take off her shoes before the smell hit her—pizza. Greasy, cheesy, unapologetically indulgent pizza.

She frowned. “Henry?”

“In here!” came his voice from the dining room.

Regina blinked in mild surprise as she walked in to find not only Henry seated at the table with a slice in hand but Emmett sitting beside him, sleeves rolled up, soda can in front of him, and an infuriatingly smug smile on his face.

“You ordered pizza,” she stated.

“Yes,” Henry answered brightly. “You said you will be late, and Dad said that’s basically permission to break the dinner rules.”

“I never said that,” Emmett said at the same time, grinning. “Except, yes, I absolutely did.”

Regina rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the tug at her lips. She was tired, and the house was warm, and it smelled like melted cheese and fresh basil. She was outnumbered. And, as usual, charmed against her will.

“Sit, Mom!” Henry said, already handing her a plate. “We saved you two slices.”

“Only two?” she asked.

“Emmett had four,” Henry tattled immediately.

“I’m a growing boy,” Emmett muttered.

“You’re twenty-eight,” Regina said, deadpan, as she took her seat.

“Exactly. That’s when growth spurts hit again, right?”

Regina poured herself a glass of wine instead of answering. It wasn’t worth it.

They ate together with a casual comfort that had started to sneak into their evenings, like this was the most normal thing in the world. Like they hadn’t spent years at each other’s throats.

Henry chatted between bites, mouth moving faster than his hands.

“So then Jack told Mrs. Blue that the science experiment exploded because he wanted to make a love potion, but really it was just baking soda and red dye—and now he has detention for ‘manipulation’ because he called it a real spell. Which, like… fair. He also said his mom’s gonna have a baby. They’re gonna name her Violet. Can I have a sister, Mom?”

Regina choked on her wine.

Emmett did not even attempt to hide his laughter. He leaned back with both hands behind his head, wearing that infuriating swagger.

“Easy there,” he said with mock concern. “Breathe, Regina. Breathe.”

She glared at him, dabbing at her lips. “Henry Daniel Mills.”

“What?” Henry asked innocently, pizza halfway to his mouth. “Everyone else is getting siblings.”

“I—” Regina blinked. “That’s not how it works.”

Emmett made a thoughtful sound. “Well, actually—”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” Regina snapped.

He smirked. “Wasn’t going to say anything inappropriate. Just that… the idea’s not terrible.”

Regina looked at him like she was moments from magically pinning him through a wall. He just smiled wider.

Henry, oblivious to the tension humming between his parents, popped the crust in his mouth. “I think it’d be cool. A little sister. Or a brother. But sister sounds more fun.”

Regina took a long sip of wine.

After the dinner table was cleared, mostly by Regina and Emmett while Henry went off to take his shower.

Regina retreated to her study to prepare notes for tomorrow’s meetings, assuming she would finally have thirty quiet minutes to herself.

Of course, she was wrong.

She heard the door creak open behind her a few minutes later.

“I’m working,” she said without turning around.

“Perfect. I’ll help,” Emmett replied, and then his hands were on her shoulders.

Regina tensed immediately. “What are you doing?”

“Helping.”

“With my shoulders?”

“Your posture is tragic, Regina. Honestly, this is more of a public service.”

His thumbs pressed into the base of her neck, and despite herself, a soft sound escaped her throat. Her eyes fluttered shut for one long second—then snapped open.

“You’re distracting me.”

“I’m motivating you,” he said.

“You’re worse than Henry,” she muttered, trying to swat him away.

“I’ve been told.”

She returned to her work with forced focus, while Emmett continued kneading his way into her concentration. It was infuriating. And wonderful. And impossible to think clearly.

After fifteen minutes of fighting the urge to melt under his hands, she sighed and pushed her notes away.

“Fine. You win. I’ll go to bed. You happy now?”

“Ecstatic.”

She stood, turning to face him. They were close again—closer than they needed to be. His hands dropped to his sides, but the warmth lingered between them.

“I could’ve gotten more done if you’d actually helped,” she said.

“I helped you remember how important sleep is. You’re welcome.”

She smirked. “Your ego is insufferable.”

“And yet, you haven’t kicked me out.”

Regina didn’t answer, just walked past him toward the hallway. He followed, of course. Always following her, always just close enough to touch.

They paused in front of her bedroom door.

Emmett leaned slightly toward her, his voice low. “Good night, Regina.”

He kissed her cheek again, feather-light and warm.

And for the first time, her eyes didn’t widen. She didn’t stiffen. She just... looked at him.

Soft. Quiet.

“Good night, Emmett.”

And when he walked to the guest room, she found herself standing in the hallway a second longer than she meant to, touching the spot where his lips had been.

Chapter Text

Storybrooke never really rested —there was always a festival, an incident, a curse-fueled emergency, or a wayward enchanted raccoon someone mistook for a pet. But, miraculously, the calendar offered one pristine weekend free of events and obligations.

And Regina had been cornered by two pairs of pleading green eyes she absolutely could not say no to.

So now, she was in the kitchen at six in the morning, packing a beach bag like she was preparing for a week-long expedition instead of a day trip to the water.

Sunscreen. Snacks. Two kinds of sandwiches. Aloe gel. Umbrella. Extra towels. Portable fan (for dramatic whining, she suspected). Two backup shirts for Henry. Sunglasses. First aid kit. Extra water bottles. Her favorite book—just in case. A beach-safe candle. She paused, blinked at the last item, and shrugged.

You could never be too prepared.

“Reginaaaa,” Emmett called in a sing-song voice as she emerged from the house with two bags strapped to each shoulder. “We’re going to the beach, not the apocalypse.”

“Says the man who would forget to bring a towel and then sunburn within fifteen minutes,” she said, marching past him with purpose.

“She’s not wrong,” Henry said from the car, mouth full of a granola bar.

Emmett held up both hands. “You wound me, woman. My memory’s not that bad.”

“You once packed nothing but a gun and a bag of Cheetos for a meeting trip in Portland.”

He frowned. “The gun was enchanted. And I stand by the Cheetos.”

The drive was short, Henry jabbering excitedly about seashells and sandcastles in the backseat, while Emmett leaned forward, changing the radio station far too often for Regina’s liking.

When they reached the beach, Regina squinted against the sun and scouted for the best possible spot—minimal wind, decent shade, far from splash-happy toddlers.

Once everything was unloaded and set, Regina made her boys sit still.

“Don’t move,” she ordered, uncapping the sunscreen bottle.

“Regina—” Emmett groaned.

“I’m not about to let you two turn into lobsters on my watch. Put it on your legs too.”

Emmett, sitting in a tank top and board shorts, rolled his eyes—but he obeyed, grumbling softly as she rubbed sunscreen across his arms, neck, and the bridge of his nose. She did the same to Henry, who fidgeted the whole time.

“There,” she said, dusting off her hands. “Now go. Swim. Be children.”

“You sure you don’t want to join?” Emmett asked, already walking backward toward the water.

“I’ll come in after I set everything,” Regina said, flipping open her beach chair and pulling a book from her bag. Sunglasses on.  “Someone has to stay dry long enough to supervise.”

“Live a little, Madam Mayor,” Emmett teased, then ran after Henry into the waves.

Regina rolled her eyes—but her smile lingered.

After ten minutes, she peeled off her cover-up and changed into her bikini behind the umbrella.

It was a tasteful set: burgundy with black trim, simple but elegant. Nothing too scandalous. Nothing she wouldn’t wear in front of Henry.

Still, when she stepped out into the sun, she noticed the shift.

Several heads turned. Eyes lingered. A few murmurs drifted on the sea breeze. She paid them no mind, laying back on her chair and basking in the warmth like a cat.

Out in the surf, Henry narrowed his eyes.

“Dad?”

“Yeah, bud?”

“Are all those people staring at Mom?”

Emmett looked toward the shore, squinting.

And then he saw her.

Sunlight on her skin, damp curls falling down her back, legs crossed, sunglasses perched on her nose, and a bikini that should be illegal for someone trying not to steal hearts.

He stopped swimming.

And then he started scowling.

Henry noticed. “Is this that thing where you’re jealous?”

“I’m not—well—maybe a little,” Emmett muttered. “What is she doing looking like that around them ?”

“She just exists, Dad.”

“Too successfully.”

They trudged out of the water and made their way back to her. Emmett didn’t miss the way a group of guys nearby tilted their heads a little too obviously when Regina adjusted her towel.

He walked straight over, grabbed the biggest towel they had, and dropped it over her with dramatic flair.

Regina blinked up at him. “What are you doing?”

“Protecting you from the sun.”

“I want the sun. I’m sunbathing.”

“There are… prying eyes,” he said through clenched teeth.

“Is this about the people looking at me?” she asked, bemused. “We’re on a beach.”

“Still.”

“You two are impossible,” she said, peeking at Henry. “Both of you.”

Henry shrugged. “It’s weird seeing people look at you like that. You’re my mom.”

“And my —” Emmett paused. “—uh, you know what, just… can’t you throw on a shirt?”

“Live a little, Sheriff .” She smirked at him and he groaned.

By late afternoon, the sun began to dip. Regina repacked the bags while Henry and Emmett helped dismantle the umbrella, though “helped” was a generous term for the sand fight they started halfway through.

By the time they reached home, everyone was worn out, sand-dusted, and sticky from popsicles.

Regina dumped the beach bags by the door and headed to the bathroom with a clear announcement:

“I am taking a bath. Do not knock unless the house is on fire.”

“No promises,” Emmett muttered as she vanished down the hall.

Later that night, Henry lay sprawled on the couch. 

“I think I’m done with beaches for a while,” he mumbled.

Emmett dropped beside him, hair still wet from the shower. “Too much sun?”

“Too much Mom being hot and weird adults noticing.”

Emmett chuckled. “Yeah. I feel that.”

Henry side-eyed him. “You think she’s hot, too.”

Emmett shrugged with zero shame. “Guilty.”

Henry groaned into a pillow. “I’m gonna need therapy.”

“Too late, kiddo. We’ve already damaged you.”

Regina poked her head in from the hallway, hair damp and wrapped in a towel. “I heard that.”

“We love you!” Henry called instantly.

“Stop it!” she groaned.

They both grinned.

Chapter Text

The air had shifted in Storybrooke. The once-summer breeze had cooled to a crisp, golden bite that carried the scent of falling leaves and wild pines. The streets were littered with orange, yellow, and red, and the townsfolk wore thicker coats and boots.

Inside Regina’s home, Henry was buzzing with uncontainable excitement.

“Mom! Dad! We’re gonna be late!”

“We’re not going to be late, Henry,” Regina said as she adjusted her blazer in the mirror. “You still have thirty minutes before the doors open.”

“That’s practically now !”

Emmett leaned against the doorframe, already in a fitted dark sweater and jeans. “I think he’s nervous.”

“I am not nervous,” Henry insisted. “I’m excited. There's a difference.”

Regina gave him a look. “You’ve already gone through a checklist four times and asked us to bring tissues in case we cry.”

“I said you might cry, not me.”

Emmett smirked, watching his son with a fondness that softened his entire face. “Well, if your piece is as good as you claim, I’ll be bawling like a baby.”

Henry grinned proudly. “It’s really good.”

By the time they reached the school gymnasium, it was filled with students, families, and a surprising amount of glitter. Strings of fairy lights hung from the rafters, and every table was decorated with small pumpkins and faux leaves.

They walked in together—Emmett on Regina’s left, Henry in between, chattering away like he’d consumed an entire bag of candy corn.

“And mine’s near the back, ‘cause it’s big, like a centerpiece. You’ll see, it’s got all the people I love in it.”

“Oh?” Regina glanced down. “Should I be worried?”

“Nope,” Henry said cheerfully. “You look really pretty in it.”

Emmett added, “So do I?”

Henry shrugged. “You look like you. Big shoulders, kind eyes, always hovering.”

“That’s how I want to be remembered,” Emmett said solemnly. “Big and hovering.”

They finally reached Henry’s piece: a vibrant, colorful painting of the three of them standing outside the mayoral mansion, trees surrounding them in full autumn bloom. Regina held a coffee mug. Emmett had a hand on Henry’s shoulder. Henry beamed, caught mid-laugh.

It was imperfect, of course—slightly too-big hands, lopsided eyes—but it was filled with so much heart Regina couldn’t speak at first.

“I…” she began, voice catching. “This is—beautiful.”

“I am crying,” Emmett admitted.

Henry smirked. “Told you.”

They mingled for over an hour, talking to teachers, complimenting other students’ work, and making small talk with parents.

It was halfway through the second lap around the gym when it happened.

A woman with two kids clinging to her legs approached, smiling warmly.

“I saw Henry’s work,” she said, eyes flicking between them. “His painting is just wonderful. You two make such a lovely couple.”

Regina blinked.

Her mouth opened slightly. Her eyes widened like she’d seen a dragon land in the parking lot.

Before she could speak, Emmett just smiled.

“Thank you. We’re very proud of him.”

The woman walked off with a wave before Regina could recover.

She turned to him slowly, frown tightening. “You didn’t correct her.”

He looked innocent. “Neither did you.”

“I was stunned into silence.”

He shrugged. “Still counts.”

She narrowed her eyes but said nothing. Mostly because another parent was walking toward them.

This one said, “Oh, I just love how you two support each other—that is good for Henry. I didn’t know that you two were finally together.”

Regina opened her mouth again. Closed it.

Emmett beamed like it was the most natural thing in the world.

They stayed for two more hours.

By the end of it, they’d been mistaken for a married couple six separate times.

Regina gave up correcting anyone. It seemed easier.

Or at least that’s what she told herself.

By the time they got home, Henry tossed his backpack near the stairs and stretched with a groan. “Ugh, can I live at school now? I feel famous.”

“You did great, kid,” Emmett said, hanging his coat near the door.

Regina kicked off her heels and padded toward the kitchen. “Yes. Very proud of you.”

Henry looked between them as he leaned on the counter.

“You know…” he said slowly. “You do look like a married couple.”

Regina froze mid-step.

Emmett leaned casually against the fridge. “Do we?”

Henry nodded. “Yeah. Dad’s basically moved in.”

“I have not moved in—”

“You’re here almost every night.”

“That’s just—”

“And you do everything together.”

“Because we have a child.”

“And you flirt.”

“That’s—okay, that’s fair,” Emmett admitted.

Regina gave them both a look.

“You have to be on good behavior, Dad, no shoes on the stairs,” Henry continued seriously, as he picked up his bag again. “Or Mom might kick you out.”

Regina shook her head, laughing under her breath as she poured herself a glass of water.

Henry yawned and started upstairs. “Night, married-but-not-married people.”

Later, after Henry was tucked in and the house had quieted, Regina walked down the hallway, arms crossed over her chest.

She stopped outside the guest room just as Emmett reached for the doorknob.

He turned and smiled, soft and sleepy.

“Are you gonna kick me out?” he asked lightly.

Regina hesitated. Then exhaled. “Well… if you’re on your best behavior, I couldn’t find a reason to do so.”

He grinned like a man who’d just been handed a crown.

“Good,” he said.

And then he leaned in.

Like he always did.

Only this time, it wasn’t just a cheek kiss.

It was slower.

Lingering.

Pressed just near the corner of her mouth.

Not quite on her lips, but not quite not either.

When he pulled back, her breath caught—and her hand was still resting on the edge of the doorframe, knuckles white.

“Good night, Regina,” he murmured.

She blinked, lips parted slightly, voice thinner than usual.

“Good night, Emmett.”

And this time, she didn’t close the door right away.

Chapter Text

It began snowing before sunrise.

By mid-morning, Regina stood by the window of her office in Town Hall, arms crossed as she watched thick flakes blur the horizon into a white haze. The snow hadn’t stopped since dawn, and the town was blanketed in a soft, deceptive quiet.

She tapped her fingers against her arm. A snowstorm was coming, and fast.

By late afternoon, she issued a warning through town broadcast and emergency alerts.

“Due to worsening weather conditions, residents are advised to stay indoors. There is a high probability of a power outage tonight. Please ensure you have extra blankets, water, flashlights, and food. Stay safe, and stay warm.”

She'd triple-checked her own home—stocked food, candles, extra logs for the hearth. Emmett and Henry were joking and tossing popcorn at each other as she came in from her last round of mayoral duties.

“Snowstorm’s hitting earlier,” she announced, removing her coat. “We might lose power tonight.”

Henry groaned from the couch. “ Noooo. That means no movie night! ”

Emmett raised a brow. “No power means no heat, no TV, no Wi-Fi.”

“No Wi-Fi ?!” Henry nearly dropped his bowl of popcorn in horror.

“Do you want to try climbing the roof to hold the Starlink up?” Emmett asked dryly.

Henry flopped back dramatically. “This is the end. I’ve lived a good life.”

Regina rolled her eyes, unamused but secretly enjoying the dramatics.

“At least we’ve had dinner,” she said. “And showers. You’re not freezing with soup in your hair, which is a plus.”

“But we’re cold ,” Henry whined. “The heater’s already slowing down.”

Regina glanced at the fireplace, then the rest of the living room.

Emmett stood, rubbing his hands together. “Alright. Operation ‘Camp in the Living Room’ is a go.”

Regina narrowed her eyes. “Operation what ?”

“It’s survival, Your Majesty,” he said with a teasing grin. “We will stack all the pillows and blankets, and huddle near the hearth. Body heat plus fire equals not freezing to death.”

Henry perked up. “Wait, like a fort?”

“A grown-up fort,” Emmett said seriously.

Regina sighed but found herself smiling faintly. “Fine. I’ll get the extra blankets.”

Within twenty minutes, they’d turned the living room into something resembling a cozy campsite.

Blankets were layered thickly across the rug. Pillows lined the floor and couch cushions were repurposed into makeshift walls. Candles were lit around the room, casting golden flickers across the snow-streaked windows. The fire crackled in the hearth, warm and steady.

Regina had even surrendered her plushest blanket—the heavy one she usually reserved for evenings alone with wine and silence.

“All set?” Emmett asked.

Regina looked over their creation, arms crossed.

“It’s decent,” she allowed. “A bit chaotic, but warm.”

Henry was already lying down, half-buried in blankets. “Best idea ever.”

“We’ll see how you feel when the Wi-Fi withdrawal hits,” she muttered.

They arranged themselves for sleep—Henry in the middle, of course. Regina on his right. Emmett on his left. Regina tried to keep a respectable distance between her and Emmett, but space was limited, and warmth was a higher priority.

“Night,” Henry mumbled, already halfway to sleep.

“Good night,” Regina and Emmett echoed softly.

The fire crackled.

Outside, the wind howled.

Inside, everything was still.

Regina stirred first.

The fire had long since dimmed into embers. Early morning light peeked through the curtains, faint and silvery. Snow still fell softly outside.

She became aware—slowly—of weight on her chest.

Her first thought was: cat? Which made no sense, she didn’t own one.

Then she registered warmth. A head. Soft breathing.

Oh no.

Henry was curled across half her body, one arm flopped over her stomach.

Okay, she reasoned. That’s normal.

Then her eyes drifted down.

Emmett.

On the other half of her body.

His arm draped over her waist, his body curved along hers. His head— his face —was resting on her chest. Mouth slightly open. One of his legs tangled with hers under the blanket.

She couldn’t breathe.

Or move.

Do not panic, she told herself. It’s just physics. Body heat. Shared blankets. Nothing inappropriate.

But still.

He was— good gods —snuggling her like a teddy bear.

She swallowed. Her heart was thumping.

Henry snored softly.

She risked a slow movement, trying to inch away.

Emmett shifted with a faint groan—and nuzzled closer.

Nope.

Absolutely not.

This was an ambush.

Finally, after several excruciating minutes, Emmett blinked awake.

“Hmmph…”

His lashes fluttered. Then he froze.

Green eyes met hers.

She raised one eyebrow.

He opened his mouth. Closed it. Then whispered:

“…Morning.”

“Get. Off.”

He slowly—very slowly—lifted his head from her chest, trying not to jostle Henry.

“Not how I imagined waking up on you,” he murmured, voice low and raspy.

“Emmett.”

“Not that I’m complaining. ”

She shot him a glare, cheeks flushed.

He rolled to his side—carefully—and sighed.

“Henry’s still asleep. Thank gods.”

“Exactly. If he saw you using me as a personal teddy bear.”

“He’ll be exciting.”
She buried her face in her hands.

Emmett chuckled softly, stretching.

“Well,” he said. “At least we didn’t freeze.”

“No,” she muttered. “Just died of secondhand embarrassment.”

“Next time, I call the spot on your other side.”

She threw a pillow at him.

Eventually, Henry woke up with all the energy of a sugared-up puppy.

“Did the storm pass?” he yawned.

“Mostly,” Regina said, brushing his hair back. “Power’s still out, but it’s calmer now.”

“Awesome! Can we make pancakes over the fire?”

Emmett raised a brow. “Now that’s a snow day plan.”

Regina groaned. “I suppose. But if you burn my pan, I’m locking you out in the snow.”

They spent the morning cooking over the fire and laughing while Henry pretended he was a pioneer. Regina eventually smiled through it all, warmth spreading through her chest in more ways than one.

She found herself watching Emmett more than once—how he laughed easily, how he helped Henry without being asked, how he moved through the house like he belonged.

And when he caught her watching, he only smiled.

Still smug.

Still warm.

And this time, she didn’t look away.

Chapter Text

Henry was gone for the night.

School camping.

It was only one night, only a few miles outside town. Still, the house felt oddly empty without the patter of his feet, his constant talking, or his dramatic declarations about homework and snack preferences.

Regina had almost convinced herself to enjoy the silence.

She lit a candle in the kitchen. Stirred a pot of pasta. Tried to focus on her planner and notes.

It didn’t help.

The quiet wasn’t peaceful.

It was loud .

She sighed, pouring herself a glass of water and setting the table. Two plates. Two glasses. Habit. Emmett wasn’t even—

Knock. Knock.

A pause.

Then again, softer this time.

She frowned, stepping to the door and pulling it open—

Emmett.

Wearing a black turtleneck, sleeves rolled to the elbows, a bottle of wine in hand, and that smile on his face.

“Well,” she said, raising a brow. “This is… dramatic.”

He lifted the wine. “Didn’t want you to suffer alone.”

“Wine solves that?”

He grinned. “It’s a start. You gonna let me in or make me drink alone on your porch?”

Regina held the door, stepping aside. “By all means.”

As he walked in, she added: “How generous of you. Inviting yourself and bringing bribes.”

“Old habit,” he said. “Charm the queen, avoid the wrath.”

Regina tried not to smile. Tried.

Dinner was simple—pasta with a rich garlic sauce, roasted vegetables, and fresh bread.

They sat at the dining table like it was any other evening.

Except Henry wasn’t there to fill the silence.

Except the air felt thicker, warmer.

Every glance held a little too long.

Every smile lingered on the edge of something else.

“This is good,” Emmett said. “You didn’t even burn the garlic this time.”

She glared at him. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that while eating my food.”

He held up a hand, grinning. “I meant it with love.”

“Careful, Swan. I have knives.”

“I’d still come back for seconds.”

The way he said it made something flicker in her chest. She sipped her wine quickly.

Later, they moved to the living room with their glasses—another bottle open, a bad romantic comedy playing on the TV as soft background noise.

They sat close.

Not quite touching, but closer than usual.

Regina curled one leg under her. Emmett leaned an elbow on the back of the couch.

She could feel the warmth of him beside her. His scent—pine, something darker, something uniquely Emmett —was far too distracting.

They were pretending to watch the movie.

They were failing.

She felt his eyes drift to her again.

“You’re staring,” she said, not looking away from the screen.

Emmett didn’t even pretend to deny it. “Yeah. I am.”

She finally turned to meet his gaze.

“Well?”

He tilted his head slightly. “Can you blame me? You’re… beautiful.”

It wasn’t the first time she’d heard the word.

But it was the first time she believed someone meant it this way.

Regina felt heat creep up her neck and into her cheeks.

Emmett smiled softly as her face flushed, her lashes lowering for a beat too long.

“I hate how easily you get under my skin,” she muttered.

“I love it.”

They sat in silence for a long moment. Wine half-finished. Movie forgotten.

Then he looked at her lips.

And he didn’t look away.

Regina swallowed.

Everything around them blurred—the flicker of the TV, the soft hum of wind against the window, the fire’s dying embers.

Emmett leaned forward slowly, close enough for her to feel the breath between them, but he didn’t kiss her.

He just waited.

For her.

For once— for once —he gave her the choice.

She didn’t hesitate.

She closed the distance.

The kiss began softly, almost hesitantly. A gentle press, lips brushing like a question.

Then it deepened—heat blooming from their mouths to their fingertips.

He cupped her face with one hand, the other slipping around her waist as he pulled her closer. She moaned softly against his mouth, her fingers curling into his shirt.

Possessive.

Raw.

Hungry.

Their teeth clashed. His tongue licked into her mouth like he’d been starved for her. She gasped when his hand found her hip, clutching at her like a lifeline.

Regina pulled back first, barely panting.

His forehead rested against hers, their breath mingling.

“If we don’t stop,” Emmett whispered, voice ragged, “I don’t know if I can control myself. I’ve wanted this too long.”

Her eyes met his. Dark. Honest.

Vulnerable.

She took his hand, threading her fingers with his.

“Then let’s not torture ourselves.”

He stilled.

She stood, gently tugging him with her.

They walked in silence down the hall, hand in hand.

At her bedroom door, she turned, standing on her toes.

“Good night, Emmett,” she whispered—and kissed him again.

This time slower. Deeper. Her fingers on his cheek. His hand was gripping her waist.

When they parted, her lips were swollen, eyes glazed.

She slipped into her room and closed the door behind her.

Emmett stood frozen in the hallway, dazed and drunk on her taste.

He leaned his head back against the wall, grinning like a madman.

“Damn woman,” he muttered under his breath, touching his lips. “You’ll be the death of me.”

Then he turned and went to his room, barely holding himself together.

Chapter Text

Regina hated camping.

The bugs. The dirt. The absolute lack of basic civilization. Why people voluntarily removed themselves from hot water and soft bedding for fun was beyond her.

So naturally, Henry and Emmett insisted they all go.

“You need to unplug, Mom,” Henry had said, wide-eyed and pleading.

“She needs to breathe fresh air and realize how glorious trees are,” Emmett added, clearly enjoying himself far too much.

Which was how Regina found herself in the middle of a forest , surrounded by overly enthusiastic boys and the distinct scent of pine and impending regret.

And now, staring at the one tent they had managed to bring—Regina felt her blood pressure spike.

“ What do you mean you forgot our tent? ” she asked, trying to keep her voice calm.

Henry winced, looking sheepish. “I thought I packed it. I really did.”

Regina pinched the bridge of her nose. “This is why we check the list. The list I gave you.”

Emmett coughed into his hand. “In his defense, your list was about three pages long. I think he got overwhelmed by the survival kit you packed.”

She shot him a glare.

“Now,” she said tightly, “you all thought I packed too much.”

“Yeah,” Emmett admitted, even though it sounded like a question, watching her pull out another roll of spare socks. “And now I’m very grateful.”

Dinner was something suspiciously charred over the fire. Regina poked at the skewered sausage with mild suspicion while Emmett and Henry gleefully declared it ‘camp gourmet.’

Afterward, they took turns washing off in the lake. Regina stood waist-deep in water that was colder than expected, scrubbing her arms quickly.

“Mom,” Henry called from a rock nearby, “didn’t you used to live in a forest or something?”

She turned to him, wringing out her hair. “ Not a forest, honey. I lived in a castle near a forest. Big difference.”

He shrugged, splashing at Emmett. “Same thing. You had animals and birds and stuff, right?”

“I had gowns and gold and an army. Not bugs in my pants.”

Emmett snorted, muttering something about ‘spoiled royalty’ under his breath.

When they finally crawled into the tent for the night, Regina could barely contain her exasperation. One tent. One Henry. One Emmett. Two blankets.

Someone was going to freeze. Probably her.

“I’m really sorry, Mom,” Henry mumbled, already wrapped up in the fluffier of the two blankets.

Regina’s tone was patient, but her eyes said You are never packing again . “It’s okay, sweetheart. Just… maybe next time let me double-check.”

From the corner of her eye, she saw Emmett smirking.

She ignored him.

They arranged the sleeping bags—one large that Emmett brought and one smaller fleece she’d packed as backup. Regina lay on one side, Henry in the middle, and Emmett on the other end. Of course.

It felt strangely familiar.

Like déjà vu .

Henry sighed contentedly, already half-asleep. “I like camping,” he mumbled.

“Yes, because you’re not old enough,” Regina muttered.

Emmett reached over the boy and gently brushed Regina’s hair from her face.

“Good night,” he said quietly.

Her lips parted slightly.

“…Good night,” she whispered back.

She closed her eyes, not trusting what would come out if she looked at him.

In the morning, everything was a mess.

The sun filtered softly through the canvas of the tent, golden and sleepy.

Regina was warm.

Suspiciously warm.

Henry was sprawled over her like a starfish, one arm slung across her stomach. That was fine—he always cuddled in his sleep.

The problem was the other warmth.

Emmett.

He was behind her. His entire body pressed flush to hers—his arm draped over her waist, one hand resting just beneath her ribs. His face was nestled in her neck, breath warm against her skin. She could feel the slow rise and fall of his chest, the strong beat of his heart against her back.

It was… intimate.

Too intimate.

She opened one eye, groaned quietly.

If I move, I’ll wake them both.

So she stayed still. For a moment. Maybe more. Let herself enjoy the warmth. The quiet.

Then came the yelp .

“ WHY ARE YOU HUGGING MY MOM?! ”

Henry's voice cracked with horror.

Regina flinched violently. Emmett groaned and half-woke, blinking against her shoulder.

“Hh… wha—?” he mumbled, voice gravelly and confused.

Henry was sitting up now, pointing dramatically. “You’re spooning her!”

Regina buried her face in the pillow. “Oh god.”

“I wasn’t—” Emmett blinked again, slowly pulling his arm back. “It’s cold. I found body heat. It’s science.”

Henry gaped. “You were nuzzling her neck!”

“I was asleep ! I didn’t know where my face was!” Emmett sat up, hair a mess, shirt wrinkled. “I’m not trying to corrupt your mother.”

“You already kissed her!”

“Henry!” Regina barked.

He crossed his arms. “I’m just saying—this is exactly what happens in romantic comedies before people fall in love.”

There was silence.

Regina’s ears were flaming.

Emmett looked at her, lips twitching.

Henry huffed and dramatically rolled out of the sleeping bag. “I’m gonna make marshmallows over the fire. Or die trying.”

Once he was gone, the silence in the tent stretched.

Regina exhaled slowly. “Well. That went well.”

“I’m so glad that happened,” Emmett said, deadpan. “It was exactly how I wanted our morning to go. Public shaming included.”

Regina chuckled despite herself.

He grinned and looked at her, brushing sleep from his eyes. “I didn't mean to get that close, you know.”

“I know.”

“But I also didn’t mind it.”

She didn’t answer at first. Her gaze dropped to his hand.

“I didn’t either,” she said finally.

The rest of the morning was filled with awkward side glances, Henry giving them suspicious looks, and Emmett trying too hard not to smirk.

It was chaotic.

Messy.

A disaster waiting to happen.

And Regina loved it more than she wanted to admit.

After they've done packing, and now hiking.

Regina didn’t like hiking.

Scratch that—Regina ‘hated’ hiking.

But somehow, these two—the bright-eyed boy and the smug, too-handsome man—had managed to drag her out once again. And while she grumbled under her breath about rocks, bugs, and dirt, watching them laugh ahead of her made the ordeal feel almost... bearable.

Almost.

Until the rock betrayed her.

One step. That’s all it took.

A sharp twist, a stab of pain—and suddenly the ground tilted, her foot slipped, and she stumbled forward with a hiss of breath.

She caught herself before she fell completely, brushing her hand over her thigh as if that could smooth out her pride.

Henry didn’t notice. He was too busy pointing out birds.

But Emmett... Emmett saw everything.

She kept walking, teeth gritted, hoping to push through it. But her steps became uneven. Every movement of her right foot sent a twinge of pain up her leg. She bit down hard on the inside of her cheek, refusing to make a sound.

Until finally, she couldn’t anymore.

Her foot gave a sharp throb, and she froze mid-step, hissing.

Emmett was at her side in an instant. “Regina?”

Henry turned around. “What’s wrong?”

She exhaled through her nose. “It’s nothing.”

Emmett crouched down, already scanning her leg. “Doesn’t look like nothing. Sit down.”

“I’m fine.”

“Sit,” he said gently, but firmly.

She did.

Reluctantly.

The second she pulled her boot off, the damage was clear.

Her ankle was already swollen, the skin tinged with a faint purple. She winced as she flexed it slightly.

Henry’s eyes widened. “That looks really scary, Mom.”

Regina gave him a tight smile. “It’s just a little sprain.”

Emmett pressed two fingers gently around the joint. “I think it’s sprained. It could get worse if you keep walking.”

“And if I don’t walk, how are we going to get back?” she snapped.

They were deep into the trail now—too far from the car to limp all the way back. Magic was an option, sure. But she didn’t want to use it—not today. Not in front of Henry. Not when she had something to prove.

“I’ll carry you back,” Emmett said.

Like it was nothing.

Like she didn’t weigh a damn thing.

She raised an eyebrow. “You’ll—what?”

“Carry you.” He shrugged. “You’re little. I’ve got this.”

“Excuse me?”

Henry nodded helpfully. “He’s right. You’re like... travel-sized. Dad could carry you all day.”

Her mouth opened in outrage. “Travel-sized?!”

Emmett laughed. “I mean, it’s true.”

She stared at both of them, incredulous. “Unbelievable.”

But when she tried to stand, her ankle screamed, and the choice was made for her.

So that was how Regina Mills ended up with her arms around Emmett Swan’s neck, bouncing gently on his back as he hiked effortlessly through the forest.

She tried not to enjoy it. Tried not to breathe in the scent of pine and leather and something purely his. Tried not to rest her cheek against his shoulder or notice the way he adjusted her weight without complaint every few steps.

He carried her like she meant something.

“You okay back there?” he asked softly, his voice rumbling in his chest.

“I’m fine,” she muttered. “Just bruised. In every possible way.”

He chuckled. “Your pride will heal.”

“I doubt it.”

Behind them, Henry trudged along, trying to catch up. “Hey, wait for me! I wanna help too!”

“You can carry her next time,” Emmett called over his shoulder.

Regina groaned. “There will be no next time.”

Once they got back home, Henry helped gather ice packs and pillows while Emmett set her gently on the couch like something precious.

“I can walk, you know.”

“Sure,” he said. “And I can sprain your other ankle while we’re at it.”

She huffed, but let herself sink into the cushions.

Henry handed her an ice pack like it was a royal gift. “I made it extra cold.”

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

They watched a movie after that. Something animated and ridiculous, but Henry insisted it was a classic. Regina didn’t pay much attention—her ankle throbbed, and the day’s exhaustion pulled at her.

Eventually, Henry yawned widely and declared he was going to bed.

“Night, Mom. Night, Dad.”

Regina’s heart skipped. She looked at Emmett. “Goodnight, kid,” Emmett called as Henry padded upstairs.

The living room grew quiet again.

Emmett returned to the couch, sitting down beside her—not close, but not far. His presence filled the space. Warm. Solid.

He glanced at her ankle. “Still hurts?”

“A little. It’s not the worst pain I’ve had.”

“I know.”

“I’ve known you to behead a man with a flick of your wrist.”

She smiled, amused. “And you still thought hiking was a good idea?”

“I like seeing you out of your element.”

“Because you like watching me suffer?”

“Because you still look beautiful. Even when you’re pissed.”

She blinked. Then looked away, biting back a flush.

There was a long pause.

Then she felt it—his head gently coming to rest against her shoulder.

A slow exhale from his chest.

His hand found hers, resting over her fingers lightly.

She didn’t move away.

Not when he kissed her temple.

Not when she leaned slightly into him.

Not when her hand turned, fingers curling into his.

She felt it in her bones then—this strange, impossible thing blooming between them. A kind of safety. A kind of home.

He loved this. All of it. The chaos, the bruises, the boy upstairs, the domestic quiet.

He lo-like her.

And damn her, but she was starting to love it too.

Chapter Text

Emmett had never liked Christmas.

Not because of the snow or the cold, he could deal with that. Not even the songs, though they played endlessly in every store and hummed from every car radio.

No, it was the hope of it all.

The way everyone smiled too easily. The cheer in the air was like static. The sense that something, love, forgiveness, magic, was just waiting around the corner.

He had never known that kind of Christmas.

And yet, here he was. Sitting cross-legged on a living room floor covered in glitter, hooks, and tangled lights, holding a box of ornaments he had no idea what to do with.

Henry sat next to him, eyes bright, unwrapping each bauble like it was treasure. “This one goes on the top! It’s the star!”

Emmett examined the plastic gold star with a raised brow. “Doesn’t the tree go first?”

Henry rolled his eyes in dramatic exasperation. “ We (meaning Regina and Henry)  already put the tree up while you were buying the firewood.”

“Right,” Emmett muttered. “Teamwork.”

In the kitchen, the sound of spoons clinking and soft music drifted through the air. The smell of cinnamon, nutmeg, and sugar curled through the house, warm and comforting.

Regina was baking gingerbread.

Every once in a while, she hummed a soft, familiar tune. He didn’t know the words. But he liked hearing it.

It was the strangest thing.

They felt like a family.

Like the kind of life he had chased without knowing, the kind he’d thought didn’t exist for men like him.

But here they are, his son happy beside him, the woman he could never stop watching just a room away, and a tree waiting to be dressed in memories.

He picked up a small wooden reindeer. Henry had painted it lopsided red.

“You made this?” he asked.

Henry nodded proudly. “Second grade.”

Emmett smiled and gently handed it to him. “Then you hang it. It’s yours.”

Henry beamed.

For a moment, Emmett just watched him. Watched how carefully he chose branches, how excited he was about stringing popcorn, how he wanted things to be perfect . Just like his mother is.

He’d never had this, not as a child, not even as a man.

And now he did.

Because of them.

Because of Regina.

The thought curled warm in his chest, making it hard to breathe.

That night, as gingerbread cooled on the racks and the tree glowed in soft hues of red and gold, Henry sat bundled on the couch under a too-big blanket.

“Can we go to the Christmas market tomorrow?” he asked between bites of a cookie. “There’s hot cider. And lights. And a big Ferris wheel!”

Emmett raised an eyebrow. “A Ferris wheel in the snow?”

“Yeah! And there’s a big skating rink too.”

Regina wiped flour from her hands, leaning on the back of the couch. “I’m booked tomorrow, sweetheart. I have meetings all day.”

Henry groaned loudly. “Who works the day before Christmas Eve?!”

“Your mother does,” she said dryly.

“You’re a Mayor. Shouldn’t you be... Christmas exempt or something?”

She laughed, walking over and brushing a hand through his hair. “I promise, on Christmas Eve, we’ll do everything. Market, cider, skating... whatever you want.”

“Including the ice rink?”

She gave him a dramatic face. “Yes. Including that.”

Henry fist-pumped.

Emmett smirked at her. “You skate?”

“I try not to.”

“You’re doing great at promising things you’ll hate.”

“I’m a mother,” she said simply. “It comes with the job.”

Later that night, the house grew quiet.

The tree lights glowed gently in the corner. The cookies were packed in tins. Snow whispered softly outside the windows, flurrying down in sheets.

Regina stood in the hallway outside Henry’s room, arms crossed lightly as she watched the boy sleep.

Emmett leaned against the doorframe beside her, quiet.

They didn’t speak for a while. Just listened to the rhythm of Henry’s breath, steady and deep under the layers of flannel.

She turned to him. “He’s so excited, it’s almost contagious.”

“Almost,” Emmett echoed softly.

Her smile turned wry. “Still not a fan of Christmas?”

He shrugged. “Never had one worth remembering.”

“Well,” she said, glancing back at her son, “you will do now.”

He looked at her. Really looked.

And something in his chest gave.

There she was–standing in flannel pajama pants and an oversized sweater with a smear of flour still clinging to her cheek, her dark hair slightly messy from baking, her eyes tired but kind.

She was beautiful.

And real.

“Good night, Emmett,” she said softly.

She leaned in, meaning to press a kiss to his cheek like always.

But his hand caught her waist, just lightly, just enough to pause her.

Their faces close, breath mingling, eyes locked.

“Good night, Regina,” he murmured.

And he kissed her.

Not rushed. Not wild.

Soft.

A brush of lips that deepened slowly, gently, like a truth he’d been waiting to say.

She didn’t pull away.

She let him in—parted her lips to his, let the warmth grow until his hand slid to the small of her back and hers curled lightly in his shirt.

They pulled apart just an inch.

She looked up at him, eyes unreadable. But she didn’t let go.

Neither did he.

Then, slowly, she smiled.

“Don’t get used to this,” she whispered.

He grinned, brushing his thumb across her hip. “Too late.”

She kissed him one more time, quick and warm, before slipping into her room.

He stayed in the hallway a moment longer, eyes on her closed door.

Snow kept falling outside.

And for the first time in a long, long time, Emmett Swan thought maybe Christmas wasn’t so bad after all.

Chapter Text

The Christmas Eve air was sharp with cold, the town glittering under fresh snow. Lights hung in loops across every lamppost, trees sparkled in shop windows, and music played from hidden speakers in the market square. Regina held her coat tighter as they stepped onto the cobbled path, but Henry was practically vibrating with joy.

“Hot cider first?” he asked, already pulling at their arms.

Emmett grinned. “You’ve got your priorities straight, kid.”

They strolled through the market, Henry bouncing between them, dragging them to every stand: cider, cookies, candied nuts, ornaments, and a snow globe booth where he begged for the one with a little skating family inside.

Regina tried to play the stern mother, but it didn’t last. She handed over the cash before Henry could finish pouting. Emmett just smirked.

After cider and cookies, came the skating rink.

Regina had tried to find a way out of it. Her ankle was still aching from the last time they tried hiking. But Henry was relentless, and Emmett, to her surprise, was more than willing to try.

That was a mistake.

Emmett Swan was horrible at skating.

Not just bad. Not just unbalanced.

A disaster .

He fell twice before they even made it to the middle of the rink. The third time, Regina nearly got taken down with him, grabbing his arm and slipping herself in the process.

“Okay, okay, that’s enough,” Emmett huffed, half-laughing and half-mortified as he struggled upright.

Regina wiped snow off her gloves. “You sure you’re not cursed?”

“This is unnatural,” he muttered. “Shoes aren’t supposed to slide.”

Henry was laughing so hard he had to sit on the ice.

When they finally crawled back to the safety of solid ground, Regina handed Emmett another cider.

“Never again,” he vowed.

She smiled behind her cup. “Agreed.”

They stayed out until the sky turned dark and the lights in the market glowed brighter, casting everything in soft reds and golds. Snow began to fall—fluffy and quiet—turning the world into a snow globe come to life.

And then it happened.

They were walking past a row of booths when Henry gasped and stopped short.

“IT’S MISTLETOE!” he shouted, pointing dramatically overhead.

Regina froze.

Emmett raised his brows with a slow grin. “Oh no…”

“It’s the rules!” Henry said, completely serious. “You have to.”

Regina glared at the tiny plant tied with a red ribbon above them. “Who even hangs mistletoe outside?”

“Someone with excellent timing,” Emmett said, stepping a little closer.

“Henry,” Regina began.

He folded his arms. “Mom. Don’t ruin Christmas.”

She shot a look at Emmett, who was practically glowing with amusement. “You’re enjoying this far too much.”

“I’m enjoying you ,” he murmured.

And just like that, before she could talk herself out of it, Regina tilted up and kissed him.

It was meant to be quick.

But Emmett leaned in the moment their lips met. His hands settled at her waist, pulling her just slightly closer. The kiss deepened, slow and warm, like melting snow.

When they broke apart, Henry was already walking away, unfazed.

Emmett, however, was grinning like a madman.

Regina groaned. “You’re never letting me forget this, are you?”

“Not a chance.”

By the time they got home, they were exhausted hearts full, stomachs warm, and limbs aching from cold and too much activity. Henry barely made it to his room before collapsing into bed. Regina helped him out of his coat and kissed his forehead.

“Tomorrow’s Christmas,” he murmured sleepily.

“I know, baby.”

“You kissed him under mistletoe.”

She bit back a laugh. “Yes.”

“Good.”

Regina blinked. “Good?”

He yawned. “Means you’re happy.”

Her chest softened. “Go to sleep, Henry.”

“’Night, Mom. ’Night, Dad.”

Emmett leaned in and ruffled his hair. “Night, kid.”

They tugged his blankets up, turned off the light, and closed the door.

The house was silent, except for the soft creak of floors and the distant wind against the windows. Regina padded into the kitchen sometime past midnight, wrapped in a robe. She poured herself a glass of water and leaned on the counter, eyes distant.

Then came the quiet footsteps.

Emmett.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just walked in, Tank top, hair tousled, eyes still heavy with sleep.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he said.

She offered him the glass.

He drank, watching her the entire time.

Regina hesitated, then said softly, “You can sleep in my room tonight.”

He blinked.

She raised a brow. “To sleep, Emmett.”

A slow smile spread across his face. “I promise.”

She led the way back to her bedroom, heart fluttering with nerves she couldn’t quite explain. When she slid under the covers, Emmett followed, keeping a respectful distance at first.

But then he reached for her gently, as if asking.

She turned into him.

Their kiss was slow and deep, the kind that curled toes and made the world outside disappear. His hand cradled her jaw; hers rested on his chest, steady over his heart.

“Good night,” she whispered against his lips.

“Good night, Regina.”

She woke to warmth.

A strong arm was wrapped around her waist, a solid chest pressed to her back. His breath was soft against her neck.

He was spooning her.

And it felt good.

Too good.

Then the door burst open.

“WHY ARE YOU IN MY MOM’S ROOM?!”

Regina groaned.

“Oh gods, help me.”

Henry stood at the door in snowman pajamas, eyes huge. His jaw dropped in betrayal.

Emmett blinked awake, groggy and confused. “What?”

Henry pointed accusingly. “You were in her bed ! You were cuddling !”

Regina sat up, flushed and stunned. “It’s not—! We just—!”

But it was too late.

Henry’s gasp was loud enough to wake the neighbors.

Emmett blinked again, then smirked.

He kissed Regina’s cheek, earning another horrified gasp from her son.

“You kissed her again?!”

“Okay, okay,” Regina tried to hold back laughter. “Let’s all calm down—”

But Henry launched a pillow directly at Emmett.

War broke loose.

Feathers flew, laughter erupted, and Emmett lunged across the bed to retaliate. Regina shrieked as she got caught in the middle. Henry giggled uncontrollably as Emmett wrestled him down, both of them laughing like boys.

Regina fell back against the pillows, breathless and laughing, watching her two boys, both wild and beautiful, playing on her bed.

This was her life now.

And she wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Even with the embarrassment, the chaos, the snow in her slippers...

It was one of the best Christmas mornings she’d ever had.

Chapter Text

Henry had always been a sharp kid—too perceptive for his own good, and definitely too perceptive for Regina’s comfort. So when he sat both his mom and Emmett down on the couch one evening with his arms crossed and a very serious look on his face, Regina braced for disaster.

Instead, he said simply, “I’m okay if you two are together.”

Regina blinked.

Emmett froze.

Henry shrugged, as if this wasn’t a life-changing announcement. “You obviously like each other. I just want Mom to be happy. And Dad… you’re kinda cool. When you’re not growling at people.”

Emmett snorted. Regina tried to cover her laugh with a cough.

“Also,” Henry added, “you already live here basically.”

Regina and Emmett exchanged a glance.

He wasn’t wrong.

By the end of the week, Emmett had officially moved in. His clothes were in her closet. His boots by the door. His scent threaded through the house, faint but constant.

But her bedroom remained hers alone.

Not because she didn’t want him there.

But because it mattered. To her.

She needed time. Needed to be sure. Needed them to be sure.

And he respected that—never pushing, never asking, just waiting, quietly devoted in the way only Emmett Swan could be.

Then Robin Hood showed up.

And with him, the whirlwind of green eyes, smug smiles, and one infuriating fairy named Tinkerbell.

“A tattoo,” she said brightly, pointing out the faint green glow that flickered between Regina and Robin. “See? He’s your soulmate!”

Emmett’s jaw clenched so hard Regina could hear it grind.

But he didn’t say a word.

Not then.

Not when Robin kissed her hand with a bow.

Not when Tink gave her that told you so smile.

Not even when Henry asked if Robin was going to stick around for dinner.

He was polite.

Cool.

Controlled.

And furious .

The week spiraled.

He snapped at a courier for slamming the door too hard. Broke a pen clean in half when he missed a call. Snarled at Hook over a casual comment about “new housemates.” Even Henry noticed.

“Are you okay?” he asked one afternoon as Emmett sat silently on the porch.

“Fine,” Emmett said, too quickly.

Henry frowned but didn’t push. Regina, however, knew better.

By dinner, the tension in the house was thick enough to cut with a knife. Emmett was unusually quiet, his jaw locked, fingers drumming against the table as if he were counting seconds. Henry talked to fill the space, but even he slowed as the silence stretched.

Then Regina reached across the table and placed her hand over Emmett’s.

He flinched—barely—but it was enough.

She stood. “Henry, could you clear your dishes, please?”

Henry caught the tone and didn’t argue. He glanced between them, then retreated dishes into kitchen without another word.

Emmett still hadn’t looked up.

Regina cleared the table slowly, waiting. When he didn’t speak, she moved to stand beside him.

“Talk to me,” she said softly.

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Emmett.”

He finally looked up.

She met his gaze without flinching. “You always say you can tell when I’m lying. But don’t you know, I know you, too?”

He looked away.

His voice dropped to something almost broken. “I’m afraid I’ll lose you.”

She blinked.

His jaw clenched again. “To him. Robin. Your soulmate. I saw the tattoo. I felt the pull—magic or fate or whatever bullshit it is. I know what it means.”

Her fingers found his, twining together gently.

“And you think I’m just going to leave?”

He didn’t answer.

“Emmett…” she whispered.

He still wouldn’t meet her eyes.

She lifted his hand, pressed it over her heart. “I choose my own fate.”

His breath caught.

“I choose you.”

Finally, finally, his eyes met hers.

“You make me laugh,” she said. “You drive me insane. You’re infuriating, reckless, and you take up all the hot water.”

He huffed something like a laugh, broken and quiet.

“But you also make me feel safe. Wanted. Seen. You make me happy , even when I don’t want to be.”

His fingers tightened around hers.

“You’re the one who gets under my skin. The one I think about before I fall asleep and the first face I want to see in the morning.”

His walls cracked.

And then collapsed.

He surged up, pulling her into his arms, kissing her like he couldn’t hold it back another second. It was desperate, deep, full of every emotion he’d been choking down all week—fear, longing, love.

She kissed him back, fingers curling into his hair, breath catching as he cradled her face like she was something precious.

When they finally pulled apart, they were both breathing hard.

“Come with me,” she whispered, tugging his hand.

He followed without a word.

The moment they stepped into her bedroom, something shifted.

It wasn’t about sex. Not yet.

It was about belonging .

About finally letting him into her space.

About choosing him, not with words, but with action.

She pulled back the covers. He hesitated.

“Are you sure?”

She nodded.

“I just want to sleep beside you,” she murmured.

“I know.”

They climbed into bed, and for a moment, it was quiet.

Then his arms slipped around her waist, pulling her gently back against him.

He buried his face into her hair, inhaling the scent of her—warm, soft, familiar.

Regina let herself relax fully into his hold.

“Good night, Emmett,” she whispered.

His voice was a soft rumble against her ear. “Good night, Regina.”

He kissed her temple, then her shoulder, and finally her lips—slow and reverent.

And in that quiet moment, under dim light and soft sheets, every fear, every doubt, every storm from the week melted away.

She had chosen him.

And he would never forget that.

Chapter Text

Robin Hood wasn’t going away.

Despite Regina’s polite rejections, each one firm but graceful, he remained an irritating constant in the background. Showing up at Town Hall with coffee she didn’t ask for. Leaving flowers at her office door. Offering to walk her home even when she had Emmett and Henry beside her.

It would’ve been funny, if it weren’t so pathetic.

Emmett wasn’t laughing.

“I hate that guy,” he muttered one evening as he tossed his coat over the couch.

Henry, lounging with a comic book, didn’t look up. “He’s kinda lame.”

Emmett smirked. “See? This is why you’re my favorite kid.”

“I’m your only kid.”

“Still counts.”

Regina stepped in, rolling her eyes as she tossed her keys in the bowl. “You two are terrible.”

Emmett slid an arm around her waist. “We’re honest.”

“You’re cavemen.”

“Is that a compliment?” he said with a grin, nuzzling her neck as she swatted him away.

Henry groaned from the couch. “I can still hear you, and I’m trying to read.”

The weekend arrived with blue skies and warm breeze—the kind of rare Storybrooke weather that practically begged for a picnic.

They packed a basket together. Regina made sandwiches and lemonade, Emmett grabbed extra blankets and a football, and Henry insisted on bringing their old Polaroid camera for “memories.”

The park was crowded but peaceful. Families sprawled under trees. Kids flew kites. Laughter and wind wove through the air. For once, everything felt easy.

Until he showed up.

Robin sauntered over like he belonged there, smiling charmingly, eyes locked on Regina. 

“Regina,” he greeted warmly, ignoring Emmett entirely.

Emmett’s jaw ticked.

Henry leaned over and whispered to his dad, “He really doesn’t get it, huh?”

“Not even a little.”

Regina was polite, as always. “Robin. Hello.”

“I thought I might find you here,” he said, setting down a bottle of wine like it was an offering.

Emmett rolled his eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn’t fall out of his head. He got up with an exaggerated sigh and grabbed the football. “Henry. Let’s go throw something before I throw something else.”

Henry grinned. “Yes, let’s go.”

They stalked off together, father and son, matching expressions of irritation on their faces.

Regina gave Robin a strained smile. “It’s family time. I’d appreciate some privacy.”

“But I am family,” he insisted. “The tattoo—”

“Does not decide my life,” she said, firm but kind. “I decide. I have a life. A family. And I’m asking you to respect that.”

Robin looked like he wanted to argue, but something in her tone made him falter. Still, he lingered.

Too long.

Too close.

Too unwanted.

Emmett noticed.

He wasn’t going to make a scene—not in front of Henry.

But he wasn’t going to let this go either.

The bastard didn’t listen to words? Fine.

Emmett would speak a language Robin couldn’t ignore.

It was almost time to go. The sun dipped low, casting golden light across the park as families began packing up. Regina folded the blankets while Henry announced he had to use the restroom and darted off toward the nearby building.

Robin was still there.

Still hovering.

Still pretending like he belonged.

Emmett walked up without a word.

Regina turned to him, an apology already in her eyes. “I was about to—”

He silenced her with a kiss.

A deep one.

Possessive.

Showing.

Right in front of everyone.

His hands cradled her face, his body pulling her close. It wasn’t aggressive—but it wasn’t gentle, either. It was the kind of kiss that said mine , that said don’t even think about it , that said you lost.

She didn’t pull away.

She melted into him.

Her hands gripped his shirt, her mouth opened for him, her heart raced in tandem with his.

And when he pulled back, her lips were flushed, her cheeks pink, and her eyes wide.

She didn’t speak.

But she didn’t need to.

Robin was still standing there.

Frozen.

Like someone had just slapped him.

“I hope that clears things up,” Emmett said coolly.

Regina exhaled, half-annoyed and half-amused. “Subtle.”

Emmett smirked. “Didn’t feel like being subtle.”

Robin left after that.

No more wine.

No more smiles.

No more pretending.

Henry returned just in time to see Robin walking off and his parents sitting a little too close on the blanket.

“Did I miss something?”

Regina arched a brow. “You were gone five minutes.”

“Yeah, and in that five minutes, Robin ran away, Mom looks like she got kissed silly, and Dad’s smirking like he won a war.”

Emmett threw an arm around both of them and leaned in. “Best picnic ever.”

Regina snorted and shook her head—but she didn’t pull away.

She leaned into him, just a little.

And let the whole town see.

Chapter Text

Regina had survived curses, betrayal, heartbreak, and even her own demons.

But small-town gossip?

Apparently, that was her final boss.

It was everywhere.

The looks. The whispers. The thinly veiled snickers behind coffee cups at Granny’s. Even her receptionist paused awkwardly before passing her the morning’s paperwork, eyes darting toward the newspaper headline she’d left not-so-subtly on the edge of Regina’s desk:

SHERIFF AND MAYOR: TANGLED IN MORE THAN POLITICS?

Subtle, Storybrooke was not.

She didn’t regret it—not the kiss, not the intimacy, not even the public declaration that she was Emmett’s and he was hers.

But gods, did he have to do it like that?

Now, she suffered.

Even worse, she suffered alone. Emmett, on the other hand, strutted through town like he’d won the lottery. Probably because he had, in his mind. The smug smile, the puffed chest, the little touches he sneaked in whenever they were together in public—hand on her back, kiss to her cheek, fingers brushing hers just because he could now.

And Henry?

Henry was thrilled.

“Mom! MOM!” he shouted as soon as she walked through the door. “So what’s next? Are you gonna get married?”

Regina barely had time to take off her heels. “Excuse me?”

“Married. You know—ring, tux, cake, me throwing flowers?”

“You throwing flowers?”

“I watched videos. I can do the spin and everything!”

She blinked. “What—why—Henry—where did you even get this idea?”

Emmett walked in just then, clearly having heard everything, and leaned against the kitchen doorway with that dangerous twinkle in his green eyes.

“Don’t look at me,” he said, hands up. “I didn’t say anything. Yet.”

“Yet,” she muttered. “Which means you were going to.”

He smiled. “I was waiting for the right moment. But hey—seems like the kid beat me to it.”

She turned back to Henry, who was still practically vibrating with excitement. “Sweetheart, calm down. We’re still… figuring things out.”

“You’ve been ‘figuring things out’ for years,” he huffed, crossing his arms like a tiny, exasperated adult. “When’s the part where we do something?”

Emmett laughed. Big, loud, unhelpful laughter. Regina gave him a look that could’ve turned an ogre to stone.

“Henry,” she said slowly, carefully. “We’re happy right now. And we’re taking our time.”

“Yeah, but like... can’t you take your time married?”

Emmett stifled a grin. “He’s got a point.”

She turned on him. “Don’t encourage this.”

“What? I’m just saying—marriage doesn’t have to mean rushing. It could be a long engagement. Years. Decades.”

“Don’t put ideas in his head.”

“But he wants a sibling,” Emmett added, with mock innocence.

Henry perked up immediately. “YES. Yes, I do. Please. I want a baby sister. Or a brother. I don’t mind. Maybe both!”

“I’m going to faint,” Regina whispered.

“You don’t have to be married for that,” Emmett said casually.

She actually gasped. “Emmett Swan!”

“What? I’m just stating facts.”

Henry nodded solemnly. “That’s true. You and Dad already live together. You kiss. You cuddle. I saw you spooning.”

“I’m going to bury myself alive,” Regina muttered, massaging her temple.

Later that night, when Henry had finally gone to bed—still mumbling about sibling names and baby toys—Regina found herself curled up on the couch beside Emmett, her head on his chest, a blanket over their legs.

He played with her hair idly. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you. Really.”

“I know,” she said. “You just… made it impossible to live like a normal human being for a few days.”

He chuckled. “You were never normal.”

“Thanks,” she drawled, elbowing him.

“Regina…”

His voice was softer now, more serious.

She looked up.

“I don’t need a wedding or a label,” he said. “But I meant what I said. I’m not going anywhere. And if you ever decide you want all of that—marriage, family, chaos—just say the word.”

Her eyes softened. “Chaos is already here.”

“Yeah,” he smiled. “But the good kind.”

She kissed him. Slow and deep

And when they pulled apart, she whispered, “I’ll think about it.”

“About marriage?”

“No,” she smirked. “About not murdering you for that stunt in the park.”

“Fair.”

Chapter Text

School break had barely begun, and already Henry was bouncing off the walls.

“Camping! Can we go camping again? Overnight this time?” he asked for the third time in an hour, practically vibrating as he sat at the kitchen counter.

Regina blinked at him, coffee halfway to her lips. “Overnight?”

“ Yes !”

Her fingers tightened around her mug.

“Absolutely not.”

“Mom!”

“I don’t camp overnight,” she said firmly, already dreading the thought of cold forest floors, bugs, and a lack of indoor plumbing.

“But we’ll get a cabin this time,” Emmett chimed in helpfully from the fridge, where he was stealing a second slice of leftover pizza. “I’ll handle the fire, and the food, and—”

“You can’t even toast marshmallows without lighting them on fire.”

“That’s a talent,” he grinned. “Not a failure.”

Henry joined in. “Pleeease, mom?”

She sighed. “Let me finish my work first. Then we’ll talk.”

The week was a whirlwind.

Back-to-back council meetings. Budget reports. An infuriating Zoom call with a delegate who didn’t understand the word deadline . She came home late three nights in a row, exhausted, with a headache that wrapped around her temples like a vice.

The boys noticed.

On the second night, Emmett had tried to lure her into a bubble bath with wine. It lasted until Henry spilled orange juice on the bathmat and Emmett nearly dropped the wineglass.

On the third night, Henry made “snack dinner,” which consisted of toast, fruit, a slice of cheese, and a “gourmet” pickle plate. Emmett added hot wings.

Regina didn’t touch half of it, but she smiled because they’d tried.

By the fourth night, she managed to cook for them. A proper meal—salmon, roasted potatoes, and vegetables. They helped clean, Henry drying the dishes while Emmett playfully flicked him with the towel.

After Henry was tucked in, sleepy, happy, murmuring about cabins and s’mores, Regina escaped to her study.

Work called again.

But barely half an hour later, she heard the door creak open and soft footsteps pad across the room.

“You need sleep,” Emmett said.

She didn’t look up from her laptop. “I will. Just after this is done.”

“Then I’m staying with you.”

She smiled faintly. “Suit yourself.”

He sat across from her for nearly an hour, mostly quiet, occasionally reaching over to refill her tea or just watching her with that unshakable gaze.

By midnight, her eyes burned. Her shoulders ached. She gave up.

“Alright,” she sighed, closing her laptop. “You win.”

“I always do,” he said smugly, standing and offering her his hand.

“Keep talking, and you’ll sleep on the couch.”

They changed into pajamas—her in a silk nightgown the color of cream, him in low-hanging shorts that did nothing to hide the curve of his abs and that ridiculous V-line.

She tried not to stare.

Tried.

But gods, the man was unfairly built.

He noticed, of course. Smirked. One of those infuriating smirks that said he knew exactly what effect he had.

“Eyes up here, Mayor.”

“I was looking at your smug face.”

“Sure,” he said, climbing into bed beside her. “Just checking out my personality.”

She rolled her eyes, pulling the blanket up. “Good night.”

“Night.”

They kissed, softly and slowly, a routine now, comforting. But his hand, as always, found its way to her waist. Then her hip. Then her side.

And then—without warning—he slid his palm over her chest, giving one breast a slow, deliberate squeeze.

She gasped, slapping his arm. “Emmett!”

He nuzzled into her neck, unfazed. “I love your breasts. They’re full and soft. Perfect .”

“You’re such an idiot.”

“Umm…” He hummed low against her skin, dragging his lips down to her shoulder. “Your idiot.”

She groaned. “Don’t start something you can’t finish.”

He shifted closer, the heat of his chest pressed to her back, voice deep and close to her ear. “I always finish what I start.”

She turned in his arms, eyes narrowed. “We’re not doing that now.”

He grinned and pulled her closer, spooning her, lips brushing the back of her neck.

“No. We’re just sleeping. I promise.”

But his hands didn’t stop roaming, warm and slow, over her stomach and hip. Just enough to make her skin heat without crossing the line.

“You’re incorrigible,” she mumbled, pressing her back to him.

“I’m in love,” he whispered.

She froze for a second.

Then relaxed.

“…Me too,” she murmured.

And just like that, they slept.

Together. Warm. Home.

Chapter Text

“I still don’t believe you’re letting him drive your car.”

Henry’s voice was laced with disbelief as he stood beside the parked Benz, backpack slung over one shoulder, his other hand shielding his eyes from the sun. He stared pointedly at Regina, who stood at the front porch of their house, keys dangling from her fingers.

Regina merely smiled and tossed the keys at Emmett.

“Catch.”

Emmett caught them midair, spinning them on one finger like a show-off. “Guess I’m special.”

“You guessed right,” she murmured, brushing past him to open the trunk.

Henry gasped dramatically. “She really trusts you now. Don’t ruin it, dad.”

Emmett smirked at that and winks at him.

“I won’t,” he promised, ruffling Henry’s hair before pulling open the car door. “Now get in before your mom changes her mind.”

Inside the car, Henry scrambled to the backseat with his snacks and tablet, while Emmett adjusted the mirrors and slid into the driver’s seat like it belonged to him. Regina buckled herself in without a word, her eyes fixed on the road ahead.

Then she felt it.

His hand.

Warm, familiar, resting on her thigh like it was second nature.

She didn’t flinch.

She didn’t look at him.

She only turned toward the window, her fingers relaxing on her lap. A small, secret smile curved her lips. Outside, the trees blurred past, but the quiet peace inside the car was louder than any song playing on the radio.

They were heading out of Storybrooke. Just for a weekend. A cabin in the woods, something Henry had begged for and they had finally agreed on. A cabin—not tents, thank the gods—with heating, showers, Wi-Fi, and most importantly, beds.

Two bedrooms.

A fact Henry had been excited to announce the moment they arrived.

“I want my own room this time,” he declared as soon as they walked into the modern wood-and-stone cabin nestled near the edge of the forest. He kicked off his shoes and dropped his bag by the larger bedroom door. “I’m almost a teenager.”

“Barely ten,” Regina muttered, brushing snow off her coat.

“I’m evolving.”

Emmett chuckled and gave Henry a dramatic bow. “Then your highness shall sleep alone.”

Regina rolled her eyes as she moved into the kitchen. The place was surprisingly nice—well-lit, open layout, a big living room with an actual fireplace and a massive couch. She noticed the wine glasses lined neatly in the cabinet and made a mental note. Maybe later.

Henry had already claimed the guest room and connected to the Wi-Fi like his life depended on it.

Regina and Emmett settled into the master room—quiet agreement, no discussion needed anymore.

It felt like… home.

Later in the evening, the snow began to fall outside. Soft, light flakes gliding down from the sky, covering the woods in white. The three of them had spent the afternoon in the nearby clearing—Emmett and Henry attempting to make a snow fort, which collapsed twice. Regina sipped hot cocoa from her thermos and laughed when Henry threw snowballs at both of them.

By the time they returned to the cabin, cold and damp, she made them all shower before dinner.

She cooked—pasta with creamy mushroom sauce, garlic bread, and salad. Henry called it fancy. Emmett called it perfect.

They ate together at the long wooden table. Afterward, Emmett helped her clean while Henry prepared the board games.

They played late into the night. Monopoly, which Henry nearly flipped when he landed on her hotel, then Clue, where Emmett accused everyone too fast and lost spectacularly.

By bedtime, Henry was yawning so hard his words slurred.

They tucked him in, Regina kissing his forehead, Emmett ruffling his hair, and both of them standing in the doorway for a moment longer than necessary, just watching him drift off.

“Goodnight,” Regina whispered, her voice soft.

“Night, kiddo,” Emmett added.

Then they closed the door.

And the cabin was quiet again.

The bedroom was dim, lit only by the soft flicker of the fireplace across the living room and the distant snow-glow leaking through the frosted windows. Regina padded silently to the edge of the bed, her bare feet chilled on the hardwood floor as she slid her silk nightgown over her shoulders. Soft, black lace hugged her curves and stopped scandalously high on her thighs. She’d packed it as a joke, half teasing herself, but now it felt like a reckless invitation.

She turned to the side, smoothing her hair with both hands. Behind her, the door creaked.

Emmett leaned against the frame, already shirtless. His chest bare, skin golden in the firelight, toned from years of fighting and running. His grey lounge shorts hung dangerously low on his hips, and the amused look in his eyes when he saw her didn’t help her composure one bit.

“I forgot how short that thing is,” he said, voice low.

“I didn’t,” she replied, walking past him to switch off the light. “You’re staring.”

“Hard not to,” he murmured, following her. “You’re kind of…” He trailed off as he stepped closer, fingers brushing lightly down her spine, “...unfair sexy.”

She turned to face him. “Are you going to stay with me tonight?”

“If you let me,” he said. His voice was soft, without bravado.

Regina nodded, slowly. “No funny business.”

“Scouts honor.”

She tilted her head. “You were never a scout.”

“Fine. bounty hunter’s promise.”

She almost smiled. But something in her eyes flickered, something deep and unreadable, and he caught it.

“What are you thinking?” he asked, reaching to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.

“That I’ve never…” she swallowed. “I’ve never had this.”

“This?”

“This… peace. A bed that feels like more than just mine. A family. This quiet.” Her voice softened, broke slightly. “And I keep waiting for it to fall apart.”

Emmett’s fingers stilled on her cheek. “It won’t. Not if I can help it.”

She leaned into his hand.

“I know.”

The moment hung between them like breath on a cold window.

He bent down, gently, brushing his lips to hers. “You can say no.”

“I know.”

Their kiss deepened—no longer soft, but slow and consuming. He cupped her face, then her waist, pulling her gently closer, letting her decide the pace. Her hands came up, resting on his bare chest, and he felt the flutter of her fingers against his skin, tentative but wanting.

Her lips trembled as she pulled back slightly. Her voice was a whisper.

“Make love to me.”

His breath caught. He didn’t respond not with words. Instead, he kissed her again, more fiercely this time, more reverent, as if she’d just given him the world.

They moved toward the bed together, stumbling slightly in the dark. He lifted the comforter and let her slip beneath first, then joined her on the mattress. The warmth of their bodies pulled together, skin against silk, and Emmett felt her every curve press against him.

“I want to take my time,” he murmured against her throat, “I want to remember every second of this.”

She exhaled, eyes fluttering closed. “Then do it.”

He started with her neck—slow kisses down the slope to her collarbone, one hand cradling the back of her head while the other smoothed across her waist. She arched under him, breath catching as he traced the lace of her nightgown with his fingertips.

“This,” he said, voice hoarse, “drives me insane.”

Regina let out a soft laugh that turned into a gasp as he nuzzled the edge of the fabric, lips brushing the tops of her breasts.

“I love your breasts,” he whispered, mouth brushing against her skin. “Full. Soft. Perfect.”

“You’re such an idiot.”

“Your idiot,” he replied, and kissed her again.

She didn’t stop him when his hands slipped lower, tugging the hem of the nightgown slowly up over her thighs, then hips, until he could peel it off entirely. He took his time, as promised—hands and mouth exploring her with quiet reverence. He kissed her stomach, her hipbones, the inside of her thighs, until she was trembling beneath him, one hand clutching his shoulder.

“Emmett—” she whispered, voice thick.

“I’m here.”

His own body ached with restraint, but he didn’t rush. He wanted her to feel everything—wanted to worship her until she forgot everything but him. He pressed open-mouth kisses across her chest, took one nipple gently into his mouth, and she cried out, only to slap a hand over her lips a second later.

“He’s next door,” he breathed.

He smirked against her skin. “You’ll just have to be quiet.”

“You’re evil.”

“You like it.”

She didn’t argue.

He moved lower again, kissing down the line of her stomach. Her legs parted instinctively, and he slid his shoulders between them, hooking her knees over his arms. She whimpered when his mouth touched her, soft and deliberate, teasing her clit with careful precision. Her back arched.

“Emmett—please—”

Her voice was strangled, so soft it was barely breath.

He growled low in his throat and obeyed, tongue circling slowly, then faster. She twisted beneath him, hands in his hair, panting as he drove her to the edge and held her there, until she was begging, truly begging, silent but desperate. Her release broke through her like a wave—shaking, moaning, only to bite into the sheet to muffle the sound.

He kissed his way back up, licking the taste of her from his lips. She was trembling, flushed, eyes heavy and dazed.

And then it was her turn.

Regina shifted beneath him, rolling until he was flat on his back and she was straddling him. Her hands smoothed across his chest, then down to the waistband of his shorts.

“Let me,” she whispered, and he let her.

She pulled them off slowly, her eyes dropping to his length and then flicking back up, cheeks flushed. He was painfully hard, and she wrapped her hand around him—slow, testing strokes that made him groan low in his throat.

“I’ve wanted this,” she said, her voice shaky. “Gods, I’ve wanted you .”

He pulled her down and kissed her, hot and hungry. Their bodies aligned, her slick heat brushing against the head of his cock, and he froze, hands tightening on her hips.

“Are you sure?”

She nodded. “Never more sure than this.”

He pushed in slowly inch by inch until he was seated fully inside her, and she was wrapped around him like silk and fire. They both shuddered at the feeling.

She leaned down to kiss him, their rhythm slow, deep, deliberate. Every movement was a word unsaid, every moan a prayer. The cabin’s silence was broken only by their breath, the creak of the bed, the occasional gasp muffled against his chest.

They moved together, building slowly, her hands gripping his shoulders, his lips on her throat. He kissed her jaw, her collarbone, her lips again and again until she shattered above him with a soft, broken cry.

When he came, it was with her name on his lips.

Afterward, they lay tangled together under the sheets. Regina rested her head on his chest, one leg draped over his hip, his arm curled around her back protectively.

Outside, snow still fell. Inside, warmth bloomed.

Neither of them spoke for a long time.

Then Emmett whispered, “That wasn’t just sex.”

She lifted her head. “I know.”

He kissed her forehead. “I love you.”

Regina pressed her lips to his chest.

“I love you too."

When Regina stirred, the morning light was soft and cold, filtering through the half-closed curtains. A haze of snowfall blanketed the world outside, but inside the cabin, it was warm, quiet… safe.

Her legs were tangled with his. Her cheek rested on his shoulder, her hand still splayed across his chest, feeling the gentle rise and fall of his breath. Emmett was still asleep, or maybe not—his fingers lazily traced her spine, slow and aimless, as if savoring the feel of her skin even in sleep.

She smiled to herself, something small and private.

She hadn’t felt this kind of peace in years.

Regina tilted her head slightly to look up at him. His lashes were long, unfairly thick. His mouth—always so smug, so sharp—was relaxed now, curved ever so slightly in sleep. And gods, that man radiated warmth like a furnace. No wonder she hadn’t needed another blanket.

“Are you awake?” she whispered.

One eye cracked open. “Was trying not to be.”

“You talk in your sleep.”

“Do not.”

“You said something about lemon tarts and fighting off squirrels.”

His eye fully opened, narrowing. “Lies.”

She chuckled softly and pressed a kiss to his jaw. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re trouble.”

“Mmm,” she hummed against his skin. “You didn’t seem to mind last night.”

He turned to her then, full and awake, his eyes softened but still dark with that same hunger from the night before. “I could spend the rest of my life proving how much I didn’t mind.”

She rolled her eyes but blushed anyway. “Smooth.”

“Worked, didn’t it?”

They kissed again—slow, warm, sleep-soft kisses under the covers, with her leg sliding along his thigh and his hand smoothing over the curve of her hip. They moved like they had all the time in the world.

Regina sighed against his lips. “We should get up.”

“No, we shouldn’t.”

“Henry’s probably already awake.”

“Henry’s got his iPad and pancakes in a box.”

She arched an eyebrow. “That’s parenting?”

“It’s vacation parenting.”

She laughed. “We’ll corrupt him.”

“He lives with the Evil Queen and the town’s savior. He’s already ruined.”

They both burst into quiet laughter, the kind only shared between people who have seen each other at their worst—and still stayed.

Eventually, the moment passed, and they rolled out of bed—though not without more kisses, more lazy touches that lingered too long to be innocent. Regina wrapped herself in a robe, Emmett pulled on sweats and a hoodie, and together they padded out into the kitchen, sleepy and warm.

Henry was indeed already awake, cross-legged on the couch in front of the fire, crunching into a granola bar with his iPad balanced on one knee.

“You’re awake!” he grinned. “You guys sleep in or something?”

Regina opened her mouth, but Emmett beat her to it.

“We were cuddling.”

She smacked him in the chest with the back of her hand.

Henry didn’t even blink. “Gross. But I respect it.”

Regina sighed and went to the kitchen. “Who raised you?”

Henry shrugged. “A queen and a savior. Pretty sure I’m unbreakable.”

“You’re ridiculous,” she muttered fondly, pulling open the cabinets.

Emmett ruffled his hair on the way past. “And proud of it.”

Breakfast was simple, scrambled eggs, toast, hot cocoa and surprisingly domestic. Henry talked a mile a minute about some ridiculous cartoon theory, and Emmett added his own wild speculations. Regina listened with amused tolerance, sipping her coffee in peace.

At some point, Henry leaned over the table, elbows propped up, and narrowed his eyes at them.

“So…”

Here it comes.

“Are you guys together now?”

Regina blinked. “We’ve been together for months.”

“Yeah, but like together together.”

Emmett grinned and wiped his mouth with his napkin. “What does that even mean?”

“You know what I mean!” Henry rolled his eyes. “Like… ‘no one else in the picture,’ kissing in public, buying groceries like a couple, adult things.”

Regina choked on her coffee.

Emmett laughed and leaned back in his chair. “I think we can confirm the groceries part.”

“Emmett.”

“What?” he said, all innocence. “We’re exclusive. We kiss. We… live together most days. And we’re planning things. I’d say that’s adult.”

Henry perked up. “Like what?”

“Like… trips. A bigger house, maybe. Schools. Vacations. Things like that.”

Regina watched him carefully, her heart softening as Emmett spoke so casually, so naturally, about a future she wasn’t sure she’d ever believed she could have.

Henry seemed satisfied. “Okay, good. Just wanted to make sure. I like this. It’s normal. Not weird normal. Like good normal.”

She leaned over and ruffled his hair. “You’re a strange little man.”

He beamed. “I’m your strange little man.”

Later, after breakfast and dishes, and another short walk in the snowy woods. They returned to the cabin, and Regina stood at the window for a long time looking out at the trees. Emmett came up behind her, sliding his arms around her waist.

“You okay?” he murmured into her ear.

“I think I am,” she whispered.

“You seem far away.”

“Just… thinking.”

“About?”

She leaned back into his chest. “How lucky I am. How scary that is.”

He kissed the side of her head. “You don’t have to be afraid.”

“I always will be. That’s how I protect myself.”

His grip tightened slightly. “You don’t have to protect yourself from me.”

“I know.”

They stayed like that for a while—quiet, warm, whole. No magic. No monsters. Just the three of them and the snow, and a fire, and a cabin tucked safely away from the world.

For now, that was enough.

Chapter Text

Storybrooke greeted them with gray skies and bureaucratic vengeance.

Regina barely made it a day before the meetings began. Town budget reports, angry townsfolk, plumbing issues in the west district, and three requests to open new businesses—two of which were wildly inappropriate. By midweek, her calendar looked like a cursed scroll, and her head throbbed with every knock on her office door.

Even Emmett could barely get her to slow down. They’d had one dinner together since returning from the cabin, and she’d excused herself halfway through it, eyes glassy and skin pale. Henry had looked concerned. Emmett had nearly followed her to the bathroom before she waved him off with a weak glare.

Now, she lay curled in bed, wrapped in blankets, her hair a mess, and a cold compress on her forehead. Her skin was flushed, body aching and hot, like she was burning from the inside out.

“Gods,” she groaned. “This is the end of me. This is how I go. Death by council meetings and teenage boys.”

From the hallway, a crash.

“Henry!” Emmett’s voice barked. “No metal in the microwave!”

“IT WAS A FORK! It was ONE TIME!”

Regina closed her eyes. “Why did I let them into my home?”

Footsteps padded in moments later, and Emmett appeared with two cups—tea in one, soup in the other.

“Cracker soup delivery,” he said cheerily. “Don’t ask. It’s from Granny.”

She accepted the cup of tea and took a careful sip. “Hmm… This is actually good.”

“I appreciate you still being alive. Henry tried to boil an egg in the cooker rice.”

“I said it was an experiment!”

Emmett pinched the bridge of his nose. “He’s grounded from science.”

Henry appeared in the doorway, his hair askew, proudly holding a plate of burnt toast. “I made breakfast for dinner!”

Regina coughed into her hand. “It’s six-thirty at night.”

“Exactly.”

She chuckled weakly. “Sweetheart, thank you. That’s very thoughtful. But maybe just… stick to Granny?”

Henry sighed like he carried the weight of the world. “No one appreciates culinary innovation anymore.”

Later that night, Regina dozed while Emmett sat on the edge of the bed, watching her with furrowed brows.

Her skin was still warm, but not feverish. Her breathing was steady. But something… something wasn’t adding up. It had been days, and she wasn’t bouncing back. Regina Mills didn’t not bounce back. She powered through wars with eyeliner on.

“Are you sure it’s just a cold?” he asked quietly.

Her eyes fluttered open. “What do you mean?”

Emmett hesitated. “I mean… just that. Are you sure you’re only sick? Not… something else?”

“What else would it be?” she frowned, sitting up slightly. “I’m not cursed. There’s no magic acting up. I don’t think there’s any—”

“Wait,” Henry said from the doorway, frozen mid-step with a glass of water in his hand. “Are you saying Mom’s pregnant?!”

“What!?” Regina sat up sharply, her voice nearly a shout. “No!”

Emmett blinked. “I didn’t say that.”

“You implied it!”

“I was just saying maybe we should check! It’s possible, isn’t it?!”

Regina looked absolutely stricken. She opened her mouth. Closed it. Thought. “I—I mean… no, we didn’t… did we? We used—oh gods.” Her hand covered her face. “No. No, we didn’t use anything. Did we?”

Emmett blinked slowly. “I was… distracted.”

“You were naked!” Emmett tries to defend himself

Henry made a noise that could only be described as a horrified squawk. “Okay! Ew! Gross! I’m gonna go drink bleach now!”

He fled, shouting as he went, “But if you are pregnant, I want dibs on naming the baby!”

“I am not pregnant!” Regina shouted after him, red-faced. She turned to Emmett and smacked him with a pillow. “This is your fault!”

“Ow!”

“You started this.”

“I was trying to help!”

“By accusing me of being knocked up?!”

“I didn’t accuse—! Look, I was concerned! You’ve been dizzy, nauseous, flushed—”

“I’ve also been working sixteen-hour days and living with a teenager and you.”

Emmett held up his hands in surrender, lips twitching. “Fair. That might do it.”

Regina groaned and flopped back onto the pillows. “Why is my life like this?”

“Because you’re hot when you’re angry?”

She threw another pillow at him. “Stop talking.”

Emmett caught the pillow with a grin and crawled up beside her, lying down carefully so he didn’t disturb her too much.

He looked over at her, voice softer now. “You really okay?”

She hesitated. Then nodded. “I will be. Just… sick. Tired. Burnt out.”

“You know I’ll take care of everything, right?”

“I know. But it’s not the same. It’s my responsibility too.”

He kissed her shoulder gently. “You’re not alone anymore.”

She turned her face toward him. “Sometimes it’s still hard to believe that.”

“Then let me keep proving it.”

Henry, of course, would not let the pregnancy topic drop for days.

“I’m just saying,” he said the next morning, “if it’s a girl, you could name her Hope. Or maybe Star. Or something epic, like ‘Galaxy Blaze Mills-Swan.’”

“We are not naming a child Galaxy Blaze,” Regina said flatly.

“Okay, fine. But what if—”

“I am not pregnant.”

“But if you were—”

“She’s not.”

Henry scowled into his cereal. “You two ruin all my fun.”

Emmett reached across the table and mussed his hair. “We’re parents. That’s our job.”

Regina watched the two of them bicker like overgrown children and took a long sip of her tea, her headache finally beginning to fade.

Sick or not, pregnant or not, life was chaos.

But it was hers.

And for once, she didn’t mind so much.

Chapter Text

By day five, Regina was no longer dying.

At least, she didn’t feel like she was anymore. Her fever broke late the fourth night, and by morning, she was upright, showered, and brushing through her hair with minimal groaning. The house still looked like two unsupervised teenagers had tried to survive a week without her, but at least no one had been electrocuted or arrested. Yet.

Emmett and Henry were out for “boy time,” which apparently involved tools, yelling, and burritos. Regina had no interest in any of that, which was perfect, because she’d made herself an appointment, an annual checkup. That’s all it was.

That’s what she told herself the entire ride to Dr. Whale’s office.

That’s what she repeated in her head while sitting on the crinkly paper sheet in an exam room with a faint headache, wondering if she should’ve eaten something more than coffee.

“Everything looks good,” Dr. Whale said, reading her chart. “Blood pressure’s solid, hormone levels are balanced, and—before you ask—no, you’re not pregnant.”

Regina blinked. “I wasn’t going to ask.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Sure you weren’t.”

“I—well.” She exhaled sharply. “Thank you.”

He scribbled something down and stood. “You’re healthy, Madam Mayor. Try not to let the boys stress you into another cold.”

She left the office feeling lighter. Relief, mostly. No pregnancy. No disaster. No sudden life change in the form of tiny socks and midnight feedings.

Except now, the idea lingered. That spark Henry had lit days ago refused to go out completely.

Did she want that?

Another child?

Her life had just started feeling stable again. The town is running smoothly. Henry is growing. She had Emmett, loyal, protective, aggravating Emmett, who treated her like glass and steel all at once. Did she want to shift everything again?

Her hands rested unconsciously on her belly in the car before she sighed and shook her head. ‘Not now. Not yet. Not never, maybe… but not now.’

They were supposed to have a simple dinner at Granny’s.

Emmett promised it would be casual. Henry had even worn a button-up shirt—unbuttoned halfway like a little punk—but still, it felt normal. Familiar.

Regina should’ve known the universe would spit in her soup the moment she stepped inside.

Robin Hood was there.

And so were his merry, unemployed, uninvited, and boisterous men.

She felt Emmett stiffen beside her the moment he caught sight of them. His hand, which had been lazily resting on her lower back, became firm. Possessive.

They ate quietly. Regina kept her eyes on her plate, Emmett on the room. Henry chatted, trying to bridge the tension with tales of whatever boy nonsense they got up to earlier. It almost worked.

Almost.

But of course, the loudest, dumbest of the group—Will Scarlet—had to ruin it.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” he said too loudly. “Looks like the Evil Queen really did corrupt the Savior. You’re glowing, Swan. Stockholm Syndrome looks good on you.”

Regina’s fork paused mid-cut. Emmett’s breath went sharp.

“Henry,” he said with unnerving calm, “go wait in the car.”

To Henry’s credit, he stood up immediately. “Yep. On it.”

Regina closed her eyes. “Emmett, don’t—”

But it was too late.

The chair scraped. He was up, fast and deliberate, walking toward Will with that slow, heavy gait that preceded absolute violence.

“You wanna say that again?” Emmett asked, jaw tight.

Will grinned. “I said—”

The punch echoed through Granny’s like thunder.

It was fast, clean, brutal. Will flew backward and knocked into a table. A coffee cup shattered. Two of his buddies rose, ready to jump in.

But one look at Emmett’s stance, shoulders squared, hands still coiled into fists, lips curled in warning and they thought better of it.

Regina sighed and calmly paid the bill at the counter as chaos rippled behind her.

Back home, Emmett sat in the kitchen with a split lip and a raised eyebrow. Regina pressed a cold pack against his cheek with little sympathy.

“You’re worse than Henry.”

“You should see them,” he muttered.

“I was there. Remember? The one paying for the damages?”

Emmett winced. “I didn’t even break a chair this time.”

“You broke a man’s face.”

“He asked for it.”

She snorted and moved the ice pack lower. He sat still on the kitchen chair while she stood between his legs, dabbing carefully with a cloth. Her dress—low-cut, form-fitting, inappropriate for battle—hung dangerously close to his eye-line.

Emmett was trying so hard to behave.

His hands twitched against his thighs, dying to move to her hips. His eyes flicked up briefly, only to land squarely on her cleavage.

“Eyes. Up here, Swan.”

“I’m looking respectfully.”

“You’re sleeping on the couch tonight.”

He gasped, scandalized. “You wound me.”

She rolled her eyes and pulled back, tossing the cloth into the sink. “You punched someone in public.”

“You like it.”

“I did not.”

“You absolutely did.”

“Maybe a little.”

They stood in silence for a beat, the domestic air between them warm and buzzing. He looked up at her again—not with heat this time, but with something softer.

“You thought about it, didn’t you?”

Regina tilted her head. “About what?”

“Being pregnant.”

She stiffened.

He read it immediately and reached for her hand.

“You don’t have to answer,” he said. “I just… saw it in your eyes. When you got the results.”

“I was relieved,” she said quickly.

“I know.”

“But I did think…” she hesitated, looking down at their joined hands. “For a moment, I wondered.”

He brushed his thumb over her knuckles. “I wouldn’t be mad, you know. If you want to wait.”

She looked up at him, startled. “You… wouldn’t?”

He smiled. “I’d be sad. But no. Not mad.”

Her throat tightened. “I don’t know if I could do it.”

“Then don’t.” He stood, tugging her gently into his arms. “We don’t have to decide anything now. Or ever. Henry’s a handful. And I already have my hands full with you.”

She scoffed. “Charming.”

“But if you did want it,” he said, his voice lower now, close to her ear, “if you ever decided… I’d be honored to raise another hell-raising little monster with you.”

She didn’t answer right away.

She just leaned into his chest and let his arms wrap around her.

Later, despite her very clear couch sentence, she found him tucked up next to her in bed.

“Thought you said couch,” he murmured sleepily, hand curling around her waist like it belonged there.

“I changed my mind,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to his bruised jaw. “This is more satisfying than exile.”

“Mm. Told you.”

He shifted closer, arm wrapped tighter, breath evening out against her neck.

And in the dark, with the house finally quiet, Regina found herself wondering again...

Not if, but when.

And whether her body could ever carry love again the way her heart already did

Chapter Text

The annual Storybrooke Formal Fair was the kind of event that Regina both adored and loathed in equal measure.

As Mayor, she had a civic obligation to make it as smooth and polished as possible, coordinating permits, ensuring safety, handling egos (mostly Snow’s), and, unfortunately, playing hostess with a smile that threatened to crack if one more person asked if she missed her Evil Queen days.

This year, Snow and David had decided to go all out. Royal-themed. “Nostalgic,” Snow had said sweetly. “A chance to remember who we were.”

Regina had smiled through her teeth and nodded, thinking only of how much wine she would need to survive the evening.

The fairgrounds had been transformed. Fairy lights strung between trees. Candlelit booths. Lace-trimmed tents and long banquet tables. People dressed like knights, ladies, huntsmen, pirates, and everything in between. A blend of modern glitz and Enchanted Forest flair.

Of course, if she were going to suffer, then so would her boys.

“Suit up. And don’t complain,” Regina had declared that morning, pushing garment bags into their arms.

Henry had groaned but didn’t fight too hard. He looked absolutely adorable in his charcoal vest and matching slacks, a silver pin gleaming on his lapel. She had taken at least seven photos before they left.

Emmett, though. Gods help her.

He stepped out of the bedroom in a navy three-piece suit that looked like it had been tailored by angels. The dark color made his green eyes sharper, brighter. His blonde hair was styled back just enough to show off the line of his jaw. She almost tripped over her heels.

He gave her a once-over too, but slower. His eyes roamed down the length of her dress, short, navy silk, low-cut but not scandalous. It hugged her figure in ways that made his hand flex.

“I’m going to kill someone tonight,” he muttered.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he smiled, taking her hand and kissing it. “You’re stunning.”

From the doorway, Henry blurted, “You guys look like a married couple. Same color and everything.”

Regina flushed. Emmett just smirked and winked at Henry. “We match because we’re a team.”

Henry rolled his eyes. “Whatever, just don’t kiss in public, please.”

The event itself went smoothly for the most part.

Many women attempted to flirt with Emmett, despite his very obvious presence at Regina’s side. He ignored them all, green eyes fixed on her like she was the only one that existed. It was both flattering and unnerving.

But the same couldn’t be said for the men. Apparently, some of them had death wishes.

A pair of younger men from the lumber mill tried their luck. One was brave—or stupid—enough to brush his hand against Regina’s bare arm while complimenting her.

Before Regina could respond, Emmett had stepped in. His hand landed possessively on her lower back, pulling her closer. He didn’t say a word, just offered the man a stare so cold it could've frozen fire.

The guy backed away without a second glance.

Regina didn’t object to his protectiveness, not tonight. Not with the way his thumb was drawing lazy circles over her spine, or the way he kept leaning in to whisper things like, “That dress should be illegal,” or “I can’t wait to take it off you.”

She whispered back, “If you’re good.”

The drive home was quiet. Henry had passed out in the back seat before they even left the fairgrounds, his little head tilted, lips slightly parted.

Emmett’s hand slid onto her thigh halfway home, warm and firm.

She didn’t push him away.

Instead, she placed her own hand on top of his. No words. Just soft silence. Contentment. That rare kind that curled under the ribs and spread slow and golden.

When they arrived, Regina gently nudged Henry awake, but he only murmured something unintelligible. “I’ll carry him,” Emmett offered, already unbuckling and slipping out of the driver’s seat.

She nodded, watching as he lifted Henry like he weighed nothing, carrying him in with practiced ease. Father and son. Her son. Their son.

Regina headed to the bathroom, washing the night off her skin, letting her makeup melt and her curls loosen. The silk robe she slipped into clung softly to her damp skin.

She padded down the hall and peeked into Henry’s room.

Emmett was sitting at the edge of the bed, smoothing the blankets. His hand brushed through Henry’s hair once before standing. He turned to find her in the doorway and smiled.

“I just came to say good night,” she whispered.

“I’ll take a shower and join you,” he said. And with a little smirk, “Unless you banished me to the couch again.”

She rolled her eyes and leaned forward, brushing her lips against his. “You earned the bed tonight.”

“I always earn it,” he whispered against her mouth.

She gave him a soft shove before turning away with a soft laugh, making her way to Henry’s bed. Her heart is lighter. Her life messier, warmer, more whole.

And maybe—just maybe—she wouldn’t mind if it stayed this way forever.

The bathroom door creaked open, steam still clinging to his skin as he emerged. A towel slung dangerously low around his waist, damp blonde hair dripping over his temple, chest gleaming with droplets sliding along sculpted muscle.

Gods, he was unreal.

He looked up and froze when he saw her watching him.

Regina didn’t say a word. She moved—graceful, determined, her robe falling open slightly as she closed the distance.

She grabbed him by the towel, yanked him in, and kissed him—deep and hard and hungry.

He responded instantly, hands flying to her waist, dragging her flush against him. The towel gave up its fight and dropped to the floor. He was already hard.

Her fingers tangled in his wet hair as he crushed her mouth with his, walking her backward toward the bed without ever breaking contact.

His hands were everywhere, palming her breast, cupping her perfect ass.

“You know I love your ass,” he muttered against her lips while squeezing its. Then, without hesitation, he leaned down and captured one breast in his mouth, sucking hard through the silk of her robe.

She gasped—sharp and breathy. “Emmett!”

“And your boobs,” he growled, biting just enough to make her yelp.

“Shh! He’ll hear,” he warned, though his voice was laced with heat.

“Then don’t bite!” She said with a glare.

He rolled her eyes—only for a second—before he caught her thighs and gently laid her down on the bed like something precious he was about to destroy.

He peeled the robe off her like unwrapping a gift, kissing every new inch of revealed skin. Her collarbones. The dip between her breasts. Her ribs. Her hips.

She trembled under him, already wet, already needy.

But Emmett didn’t rush.

He kissed lower, then lower still, until she was panting and arching and begging—his mouth buried between her thighs. He devoured her, hands gripping her thighs to keep her in place as she tried to squirm away from the overwhelming pleasure.

She came hard, crying out into the pillow as her fingers clawed the sheets.

Only then did he rise, lips glistening, eyes dark and feral.

“Now you’re ready,” he whispered, positioning himself between her legs.

He slid in slowly, reverently, and her moan turned soft and broken.

They moved together, slow at first. Deep. She clung to his shoulders, nails digging in. He kissed her neck, her lips, her jaw. Worshipping her with every thrust.

But it didn’t stay soft for long.

She pushed him off, breathless, straddling him.

Her hands on his chest, her body rolling over him with slow dominance, driving him insane. She rode him with a rhythm that made him groan, made his hands grab her waist, made him sit up and pull her breast into his mouth again, teeth grazing until she gasped.

He flipped her over after that—couldn’t hold back anymore.

He took her from behind, one hand tangled in her hair, the other gripping her hip. The sound of skin meeting skin echoed, broken only by her moans and the sharp slap of his palm on her ass.

She tried to glare over her shoulder. “Really?”

“I can’t help it,” he groaned. “You know I’m obsessed with your ass.”

The glare faltered into a whimper when he angled just right and she came again, body clenching around him.

“You’re unbelievable,” she panted, now trembling under him. “That’s three.”

“I’ve only come once,” he murmured darkly, leaning down to kiss her shoulder. “I’m not done.”

She rolled onto her side, chest heaving, eyes half-lidded. “I am.”

He didn’t believe her.

His hand slid down her front, fingers slipping between her thighs, teasing her slick folds while the other cupped her breast.

She whimpered and turned her face into the pillow. “No—Emmett—I can’t again—”

“Yes, you can,” he growled in her ear.

He pushed back into her, her body somehow still ready. She tried to crawl forward, overwhelmed, but he caught her hips and held her still, dragging her back against him.

“You’re not running from this,” he said, voice hoarse. “Please...”

She cried out—loud, helpless—and he kissed her cheek, then her shoulder, then her jaw as she finally surrendered again.

He didn’t stop until she was trembling so violently she couldn’t breathe. He came with a groan, deep and long, pressing as far inside her as he could and staying there.

He stayed still for a moment, just breathing, hand gently cupping her between the thighs.

His touch was no longer demanding, just tender.

“That’s amazing,” he whispered into her damp skin.

Regina was too far gone to protest. Her eyes fluttered, her body limp.

But her fingers curled into his wrist, holding him close.

Chapter Text

It started with Henry poking his head between them on the couch, popcorn in hand and eyes unusually serious.

“You know,” he said, eyes on Emmett, “you should probably propose soon.”

Regina choked on her wine. Emmett blinked.

“Come again?”

Henry shrugged like he hadn’t just dropped a bomb on both their lives. “I mean, you live with us. Everyone already thinks you two are married, you’re basically her husband now.”

Emmett glanced at Regina, who was still recovering with a wide-eyed.

“You really okay with that?” he asked Henry, quieter now, more cautious.

Henry nodded like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You love her. She loves you. You both act like you’re married anyway. Plus, you make her laugh even when she’s trying not to.”

Regina arched a brow, but Henry grinned and retreated with his snacks, job done.

Emmett sat there for a while after, long after the show ended and Regina wandered into the kitchen.

He thought about it. A lot. 

For days.

And then...he did something about it.

He waited until she was busy at City Hall, stole one of her rings from her dresser (which he returned sneakily later), and brought it to the jeweler in town.

He chose a gold band, elegant and clean, with a single deep red ruby in the center. It shimmered like her magic. Like her strength. It was perfect. Just like she deserved.

He kept it hidden. For now.

Life continued like a smooth rhythm.

Mornings with coffee and soft kisses. Henry’s school. Her work. His work. Quiet dinners and quiet nights. But something about that ring burned in his chest every time he looked at her.

That Friday, while they were eating takeout on the couch. Regina with her usual glass of wine, Emmett with his beer and Henry dropped his next bomb.

“I want to go to Disneyland,” he said casually, mid-noodle bite.

Regina paused. “Disneyland?”

“With castles and magic and characters and churros!” he added enthusiastically.

“You do realize you’re living in an actual enchanted town with real castles and actual magic, right?” she said dryly.

Henry gave her the best pleading face he could. “But they have fireworks and Mickey.”

“Come on, Regina,” Emmett said, already joining the other side, of course. “Could be fun. We’ve never gone on a real trip together.”

Regina looked between them. One man-child. One actual child. Both with the same puppy eyes. She sighed heavily. “Fine. I’ll try to fit it in my schedule.”

“Yay!” Henry bolted off to his room like he’d just won the lottery.

Emmett leaned in, grinning. “We make a good team.”

“You mean, a manipulative one.”

“Same thing.”

They ended the night curled together on the couch, the TV murmuring in the background. She rested her head on his shoulder, his arm wrapped lazily around her waist, her wine glass nearly forgotten on the coffee table.

“I’ll book everything,” he murmured.

“No,” she said immediately. “I’ll handle the details. You’d accidentally get us a room in the middle of nowhere and forget sunscreen.”

He didn’t argue. Just kissed her temple.

Later, they kissed Henry goodnight, tucked him in while he mumbled something about “Mickey ears” in his sleep, and turned off his lamp.

Back in their room, Regina crawled into bed, he followed soon after. It’s feeling too domestic to ignore.

The ruby ring waited patiently in the drawer of his nightstand.

Not tonight. But soon.

When it felt just right.

The first day at the Disneyland Resort was, in one word.  CHAOTIC .

Henry was on a sugar high and an adrenaline surge that not even Regina’s magic could tame. He wanted to see everything . Every ride, every show, every snack cart. And Emmett? He was no better. He wore Mickey ears unironically and got way too excited about lightsabers and churros. At one point, Regina caught both of them arguing over which princess had the strongest magical abilities.

She loved them both dearly. But gods, she was exhausted .

By late afternoon, her feet were burning, her shoulders aching, and her patience threadbare. And then someone a sweet old lady standing behind them in line, smiled at them and said, “What a beautiful family. Are you two married?”

Before she could correct her, Henry chirped up: “Yes! They are! I’m just waiting for my little sister or brother!”

Regina turned a dangerous shade of red. Emmett just grinned like an idiot and wrapped his arm tighter around her waist. “Working on it,” he said under his breath.

She elbowed him in the ribs. “Don’t make me turn you into a toad.”

They barely made it back to their hotel suite before collapsing. Henry fell face-first onto the bed, already snoring before she could even take his shoes off. She followed shortly after, curling into Emmett’s chest and mumbling something about needing a vacation from their vacation.

The second day was a bit slower, though still chaotic. There were fewer lines, more wandering. They ate ice cream for lunch and took silly pictures with characters. Henry pulled them into every photo arms around both his parents, grinning like he had everything he could ever want.

Regina smiled more. Laughed more. Let go a little.

By sunset, they’d claimed a spot near Main Street to wait for the night parade. Henry sat in Emmett’s lap, clutching his glowing Mickey wand and half-asleep already.

By the time they got back to the hotel, he was out cold. Emmett carried him in his arms, kissed his head as he laid him gently into bed. Regina watched from the doorway, heart aching in that soft, full way.

The third day was quiet. No rushing. No must-do list. Just existing together.

They wandered through the park at their own pace, sipping coffee, people-watching, enjoying the warm sun. Henry wore his Mickey ears proudly. Regina wore a casual dress, simple and comfortable, her hair soft and loose. Emmett looked good in his usual too-handsome-to-be-real way, in a black shirt rolled at the sleeves and that lazy, cocky smile he always saved for her.

They paused in front of the castle.

There were people everywhere…tourists, kids, music, laughter and yet somehow it felt like the world slowed when he turned to face her.

She was admiring the stained glass windows when she noticed he wasn’t beside her anymore.

She turned and gasped.

Emmett Swan was on one knee.

Right there, in front of Sleeping Beauty’s Castle, on a busy morning in the middle of everything.

Henry’s eyes widened to cartoon size. “Oh my god!”

Emmett held up the ring gold, elegant, with a ruby that gleamed in the sunlight.

“I’ve been waiting for this day for years,” he said, voice steady and warm. “And now I finally have the chance.”

Regina covered her mouth. Her eyes already glistened.

“I love you, Regina. I love the way your smile reaches your eyes, the way you laugh even when you’re mad at me. I love your smart ass and your stubbornness. I love the way you make this life feel real, and better. You make me happy. More than I ever knew I could be.”

She was already crying, quietly, shaking her head in disbelief.

“I want to wake up to you every morning and fall asleep with you every night. I want to build the rest of our life together. Regina Mills, will you do me the honor of making me the luckiest man in the world? Will you marry me?”

She dropped to her knees in front of him, nodding furiously through her tears. “Yes. yes, yes, I will!”

The crowd around them clapped. Henry whooped with joy, jumping and yelling, “She said YES !!”

Emmett slipped the ring onto her finger, and she stared at it like it was spun gold from a fairytale. He kissed her quick and soft and a little shaky. She laughed, giddy and overwhelmed.

“I can’t believe you did that in front of everyone,” she whispered against his lips.

“Had to make sure there were witnesses,” he grinned. “You’ve got a habit of running.”

She swatted his chest, kissed him again.

Henry barreled into them both, hugging them tightly. “ Best. Day. Ever .”

And it was.

It was official now.

She was his wife.

As he was hers.

And they had never been more certain.

The returning to Storybrooke felt surreal after Disneyland.

The fairytale world they’d stepped into for a few days had faded into the mist of memory, but it left behind something far more lasting. Regina’s engagement ring, which glittered proudly on her left hand, catching every beam of sunlight and every pair of curious eyes.

Henry was utterly incapable of keeping the secret. He announced it to Granny before they’d even unpacked their bags. Then to Snow. Then to Archie. Then to anyone within earshot.

By the time Regina showed up at Town Hall, she didn’t need to say a word. The ring did all the talking.

Everywhere she went, someone gave her a smile, a knowing wink, a congratulatory murmur. Storybrooke wasn’t known for keeping gossip quiet, and now, the question was on everyone’s lips:

“When’s the wedding?”

She didn’t have an answer. Not yet. Not because she doubted him but because she didn’t want to rush. Neither did he.

There was a quiet understanding between them, unspoken but ever-present: they belonged to each other already. The rest could wait.

And Emmett is perfectly content. He doesn’t need to prove anything to anyone anymore, her ring finger carried it just fine. She wore his promise, and it soothed something in him. He didn’t feel lighting spark of jealous when men looked at her now, didn’t tense or growl. He just wrapped his arm around her waist and smirked. She was his. And he had nothing left to prove.

Their days fell into a rhythm,a life they had built without realizing it.

Mornings meant coffee and shared breakfasts, Henry rambling about school while Emmett teased him over toast. Afternoons brought work, routine, a little chaos, and evenings brought peace. They played games, watched shows, or curled together on the couch. And at night, they fell into bed wrapped in each other, as if their bodies instinctively knew where they belonged.

One evening, as the fire flickered low and Henry had long since gone to bed, Emmett leaned into her side on the couch. Regina sat curled with a blanket around her legs, her wine glass cradled gently in her hand.

“Can I ask you something?” he said softly.

Her head tilted in response, eyes still on the flickering fire.

“Do you want a wedding?” he asked.

She didn’t answer right away.

Her silence stretched for a moment. Her eyes flickered not with fear, but with memory. Pain. Something old and sharp still lodged in the shadows of her past.

“You know I was married before,” she said at last, her voice quieter than usual. “It wasn’t… pleasant. He was brutal. Controlling. Everything about that union felt like a prison, Emmett.”

He shifted, closing the space between them, and reached for her hand. His fingers threaded through hers gently, grounding.

“Hey…” His voice dropped, soft and steady. “Regina. Look at me.”

She did.

“If you don’t want a wedding, that’s fine. You never have to do anything for me that you don’t want to. I won’t force anything on you not now, not ever.”

Her breath hitched, and tears welled in her eyes.

“You mean that?”

“I’d wait forever for you to be ready,” he said, without hesitation. “And if you’re never ready, that’s okay too. You’re already mine.”

That broke something in her a fear, a wall, something old and cold that had long outstayed its welcome.

She leaned forward and kissed him, soft and slow. A thank-you more than anything.

When they parted, she rested her head on his shoulder, her fingers playing absently with the fabric of his shirt.

“Maybe one day,” she whispered. “Not for the crowd. Not for tradition. Just for us.”

His smile was gentle, warm. “Whenever you say the word.”

They stayed like that for a while entwined, quiet, peaceful.

And later, when they curled into bed, he held her a little tighter. Not to keep her, not to claim her, but simply to remind her that she was safe.

She didn’t need a wedding to feel like a wife.

And yet, somewhere deep in her chest, the idea of walking toward him..just him, dressed in white, with Henry smiling in the front row, began to bloom like something new.

Something hopeful.

Something hers .

Chapter Text

Henry’s birthday.

Ten years old. Two digits now. Double digits, he kept repeating proudly all week, as if the world would treat him differently for it. Maybe it would.

Regina had been planning for weeks coordinating food, decorations, and an activity list tight enough to rival a royal summit. The backyard looked like a carnival crashed into a castle. Bright streamers twisted from tree to tree, balloons floated in clusters, and a rented magician (with barely passable sleight-of-hand skills) had already made three kids cry and one hamster disappear.

Snow and David arrived early to help. Ruby came fashionably late, carrying a gift almost bigger than Henry. Then came Archie, Belle, even Leroy and seemingly every child under twelve in town.

Regina’s once-serene backyard now felt like a battleground of sugar, glitter, and high-pitched shrieking. She barely sat down once, ushering children to the bouncy castle, wiping frosting off faces, and fielding questions like, “Where’s the bathroom?”, “Can I have more soda?”, or “Why does the place  smell like cinnamon?”

Through it all, Emmett was at her side.

Calm and steady.

He manned the grill like a war general burgers flipped with precision, hot dogs rotated to golden perfection. He even wore the ridiculous paper crown Henry made him, a red “King Dad” label in glitter glue across the front. He took it seriously, giving mock commands like, “Bring me more ketchup!” and “Squire, fetch me soda!”

Regina rolled her eyes so hard she nearly saw her own brain. But she couldn’t deny how much she liked seeing him like this at ease, grinning, silly with their son.

Cake time came like a thunderclap. Emmett carried it out two tiers, chocolate-fudge with vanilla bean frosting, and Henry’s name in gold script across the middle. The kids sang off-key but loud, and Henry beamed. He made his wish, eyes squeezed shut tight, then blew out the candles in one breath.

Later, as the last guest finally left. Regina stood at the doorway, waving goodbye, wine glass dangling from her fingers like a lifeline.

“I am never doing that again,” she said flatly, her voice hoarse.

“Yeah, I heard that before.” Emmett reminded her with a smirk as he stacked chairs with one hand.

“This year, I mean it.”

“You always mean it.”

She raised her glass in mock salute, “Then I hope you’re ready to host his eleventh.”

“Hell no.”

They both laughed.

Henry was barely keeping his eyes open when Regina finally gathered him in her arms. She tugged the golden birthday crown from his hair and kissed his temple.

“Happy birthday, my little prince,” she whispered softly.

“I’m not little anymore,” Henry mumbled sleepily. “I’m ten.”

She raised her brows and gave him a crooked smile. “Ten still fits under ‘little.’”

He opened one eye. “You’re never gonna let me grow up.”

“No,” she said without apology.

Emmett leaned down, brushing Henry’s hair back gently. “Happy birthday, Henry. You’re growing up so fast.” His voice dropped into that low, sincere tone Henry always responded to. Then, he kissed his cheek.

Henry gave a dopey grin before nodding off completely.

They stood there a moment longer, watching him breathe softly, his chest rising and falling in rhythm.

Regina tucked the blanket higher, then slowly rose. “He’s not a baby anymore.”

“No,” Emmett said quietly, “But he’ll always be ours little prince.”

She didn’t reply. She didn’t need to.

They slipped out of the room and into their own. Regina flopped on the chair second the door closed. Her feet ached, her dress was frosting-stained, and her hair was falling from the bun she’d pinned up this morning.

“I feel like I’ve aged ten years,” she muttered, grabbing a makeup wipe from her drawer.

“You look good for someone who survived a sugar hurricane.”

She shot him a look. “Flattery will not get you out of cleanup tomorrow.”

“Worth a try.”

He pulled off his shirt, tossing it into the hamper before collapsing back onto the bed with a groan. She joined him a minute later, changed into a cotton slip and face freshly washed. She sighed as her head hit the pillow.

“Finally. Peace.”

Emmett turned to face her, reaching to pull her close.

“You know,” he murmured into her hair, “We make a good team.”

“We’re terrifying together,” she agreed.

He chuckled, hand splaying across her hip. “I wouldn’t want to do this with anyone else.”

Her lips curled into a tired smile. “Neither would I.”

They lay like that in silence for a while before they take turn showering and getting ready for bed.

Regina drifted slowly, peacefully.

Just as her mind began to fog into dreams, Emmett whispered something she barely caught.

“Double digits… next thing we know, he’ll be bringing home a girl.”

She groaned. “Don’t remind me. Can we keep him ten forever?”

“Sorry, love. Time doesn’t take bribes.”

“We’ll see,” she murmured sleepily. “I know magic.”

He laughed, deep and quiet, and kissed the crown of her head. “Goodnight, Regina.”

“Goodnight, Mr. Pain-in-my-ass.”

Peace, finally.

Their little prince was ten.

Their little family was everything.

Chapter Text

Three months.

That’s how long until Emmett Swan’s birthday, and for once, Regina wanted to plan ahead. 

Not just a dinner. Not just a gift. This year, she wanted to give him something that meant something.

Something that was real.

A wedding.

It wasn’t a decision made lightly. Regina had been thinking about it quietly for weeks, weighing every doubt, every fear… and every look Emmett gave her that melted it all away. He never pressured. Never rushed. Just stood by her with that soft look in his eyes that made her feel safe, and smiled back like an idiot.

And this time, she wanted to say yes with her whole heart. On his birthday, she would give him what he deserved.

The evening air was warm, Henry sprawled sideways on the couch with popcorn all over the cushions. The TV was playing, but none of them were really watching. Regina sat between them, legs folded neatly, her hand resting on Emmett’s thigh in that casual, natural way that had become so… normal.

Emmett’s arm draped around her shoulder as he took a long sip of his beer. Henry munched a handful of popcorn then tossed a few into the air, catching one in his mouth and missing the rest.

It was the perfect time.

Regina looked between them her family. Her boys.

“I’ve decided,” she said softly, “that we’ll start planning the wedding.”

The words hung in the room like magic. For a beat, no one spoke.

Emmett’s beer paused halfway to his lips, mouth parted slightly as his brain caught up.

Henry gasped. Then beamed, eyes wide and practically vibrating. “You Mean It?! We’re having a wedding?!”

Regina gave a gentle, amused smile. “Yes. We’re having a wedding.”

“Yes! Yes yes yes!” Henry leapt up and did a weird half-dance around the coffee table. “I’m gonna make the list! I’m starting now! We’ll need cake, and balloons, and maybe a unicorn—”

“No unicorns,” Regina deadpanned.

“Maybe one,” Emmett teased, finally breaking into a wide grin. “You sure you want him planning it?”

“I said I will do the list,” Regina muttered, already regretting saying anything in front of her overzealous child. “You will be the ring boy.”

Henry puffed up proudly. “Ring man, mother.”

“Sure,” she said with a smirk. “A very small ring man.”

Emmett still hadn’t said a word. He just stared at her. Then at the both of them.

And then suddenly, bam, his arms wrapped around them both at once, lifting them into an unexpected group hug so tight Regina squeaked.

“Emmett!” she gasped.

He kissed Henry’s head and then bent down, crushing Regina’s lips with a deep, desperate kiss that made her toes curl and Henry groan in dramatic horror.

“Oh my god—That’s gross! That’s not what I meant by bonding!”

Regina tried to glare but she was smiling too hard. “Stop traumatizing our son,” she whispered against Emmett’s mouth.

“Can’t help it,” he murmured. “You just told me you’re going to be my wife.”

Henry flopped onto the couch in theatrical defeat. “You guys are so embarrassing.”

Regina raised a brow, hiding her fond amusement. “Wait until the wedding speeches.”

“I’m writing mine tonight,” Henry said firmly. “I’m putting in the part where you almost burned the kitchen down because Dad broke your favourite plate.”

“That was reasonable,” Regina said.

“It was an accident,” Emmett tries to defend himself. “I just startled with your beauty, and then it fell.”

“Unbelievable,” she muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose. “And flatter won’t get you out off your troubles”

Henry sat up a little, curious. “Do you know the date yet?”

Regina glanced at Emmett, then back at their son. “On your father’s birthday.”

That wiped the grin right off Emmett’s face. His eyes widened, chest visibly rising with the breath he sucked in.

“You’re… serious?”

She nodded softly, eyes twinkling. “The best birthday present, don’t you think?”

He looked like he was fighting the urge to literally leap. His jaw worked once. Twice. Then he played it cool...barely. “Well, I am worth celebrating.”

Regina snorted.

Henry rolled his eyes. “Just wait until I throw you a bachelor party.”

“Absolutely not,” Regina said quickly.

“Absolutely yes,” Henry shot back.

Regina groaned. “What have I done?”

They stayed up for a while longer, mostly letting Henry brainstorm wild ideas about fireworks, chocolate fountains, live doves, knights parade and magic dancing.

Regina exchanged a look with Emmett that screamed: ‘Please help.’

He just winked and took another swig of his beer.

When they finally got Henry to bed..after much convincing that no, he could not build a wedding throne out of cereal boxes they returned to their room in a quiet hush.

The kind of stillness that hummed with something electric.

Emmett stood near the window, arms crossed, still absorbing everything. Regina peeled off her cardigan and rubbed her neck slowly.

“I think I’ve doomed us to the most chaotic wedding of the decade,” she sighed.

Emmett crossed to her, slowly, gently pulling her into his chest. His hands slid up her arms and curled around her neck, thumbs brushing her jaw.

He looked at her like she hung the stars.

“Thank you,” was all he said.

She swallowed the sudden emotion in her throat and gave a slow nod.

“I’m going to take a bath,” she said, voice smooth and casual. Then she met his gaze with a hint of mischief. “Do you want to join?”

His eyes lit up like fireworks.

He didn’t answer. He just ran.

Straight to the bathroom.

Regina laughed, shaking her head as she followed.

It was going to be a long, warm night.

And a beautiful, chaotic future.

Steam curled thick in the bathroom, the scent of her shampoo swirling with heat. Regina stood beneath the rainfall shower, her head tilted back, eyes closed as water slid over every curve of her body bare, glistening, perfect. The light from the sconces above caught the droplets tracing her collarbone,the valley of her breasts, her waist. She looked like a goddess standing in her temple, unaware, or pretending not to notice, the man watching her like a starved wolf.

Emmett leaned against the wall for a moment, just… watching. Letting the image sear into his memory.

Then he stepped forward.

His hands reached for her slowly, reverently. One palm slid over the slope of her back, down the smooth arc of her hip, kneading gently at her ass. His other hand came around to cup her breast, thumb brushing over her hardened nipple as she sighed, tilting into his touch.

He dipped lower.

His fingers found the sensitive lips between her thighs and stroked softly, teasing her open. Her breath hitched, a low moan escaping her lips as her hand reached behind to grab at his hip.

“Emmett…” she whispered, her voice thick with need.

She turned to face him, hair wet and wild around her face, skin flushed and dewy. Her fingers slid between them, curling around his cock, stroking slowly until he was hard in her hand, thick and ready.

He groaned against her neck as she worked him with deliberate intent, her palm twisting, teasing. She was sin in the shape of a woman, his woma, and she was driving him mad.

He didn’t wait.

He grabbed her thighs and lifted her easily, pressing her back against the cold tile wall. She gasped at the chill, then moaned louder as he pushed inside her in one smooth, hungry thrust.

“God—” she choked, wrapping her legs around him as the shower pounded down.

He moved fast, needy, the sound of their wet bodies meeting echoing off the tile. Her hands clutched at his shoulders, nails digging in, moaning into his mouth as he took her hard and deep. It didn’t take long before her body tensed, a high cry leaving her lips as her release tore through her. She clenched around him, pulsing, gasping.

He held her through it, breathing hard against her shoulder, then slowly pulled back.

“We’re not done,” he growled.

She was too boneless to reply, just nodded weakly as he carried her out, still dripping water onto the floor.

They collapsed onto the bed, wet skin against sheets, breath still ragged. He kissed her hard, slow, before pressing into her again. This time, slower. Deeper. Each thrust carved something sacred between them an ache, a stretch, a pleasure that built until she could barely speak.

She clung to him, mouth open, voice lost in gasps. His name slipped from her lips like prayer.

“Too much…” she whimpered. “Almost…”

“Almost,” he echoed darkly, driving into her deeper, slower. “Yes.. you can take it. You always do.”

She shattered around him again, eyes fluttering, lips parted, soundless.

He followed her over the edge, thrusting deep and still as he came inside her, groaning low into her throat, his whole body trembling with the force of it.

They lay there, tangled in sweat and breath and love. He kissed her temple, then her jaw, pulling the sheet up gently over her shivering form.

Then, as silence settled, his hand drifted down her belly, resting lightly. She stilled.

He didn’t say a word.

He didn’t have to.

The weight of his palm was promise enough. Future. Life. Something unspoken.

She placed her hand over his and nodded once.

And then his hand kept moving.

Lower.

Without warning, two fingers slipped inside her, still wet and swollen from him.

“Em—!” she gasped, slapping at his wrist.

He grinned..that grin…dark, wicked, smug.

“What?” he whispered. “Just making sure it stays in.”

She growled and tried to turn away but he pinned her, pressing his fingers deeper, curling them until she whimpered.

“You’re such a—oh god—”

A third finger joined, stretching her. She moaned into the pillow, clenching hard, legs trembling again as he fucked her with just his hand, slow and maddening.

When she came again..her third time tonight, it hit her like a wave, crashing through her with a cry she couldn’t contain.

Emmett kissed her bare shoulder, then leaned in close to her ear.

“Your’re so beautiful like this” he murmured, fingers still buried deep. “And don’t push it out.”

Regina let out a half-laugh, half-moan. “You’re idiot.”

“Your idiot.”

He finally withdrew his hand and tugged her close, wrapping around her like a possessive lion. She nestled into his chest, boneless and warm, her legs still twitching from aftershocks.

“You’re lucky I love you,” she mumbled sleepily.

He smiled against her hair. “I love you too.”

And they fell asleep like that wet, tangled, full of each other. 

Dreamless...

Chapter Text

Everything was going smoothly.. almost too smoothly, Regina would think more than once. The wedding plans, despite the chaos she had braced herself for, were surprisingly under control. They worked like a team: she handled the ceremony and Emmett kept the stress off her back. Henry, of course, insisted on being part of every decision, from the cake to the color of the tablecloths. It was like co-parenting on steroids, wedding planning and raising a bright ten-year-old with a wild imagination. But somehow… it worked.

Until one afternoon.

Emmett was working late at the sheriff station, neck-deep in paperwork. Regina had picked Henry up from school like usual, but something felt off from the moment he climbed into the car.

He was quiet.

Not the dreamy, happy kind of quiet either but the tense kind. The something’s-wrong-but-I’m-not-saying-it kind. His shoulders were stiff. His answers came in one-word replies. When she asked how his day was, he only shrugged.

At home, he disappeared into his room without another word.

Regina tried not to panic. She gave him space, started dinner like always. Chopped vegetables. Put the water on to boil. Checked her phone twice to see if Emmett had texted. He hadn’t.

An hour passed.

Then another.

She knocked softly on Henry’s door. “Dinner, sweetheart,” she called gently.

No response.

She opened it anyway, careful not to startle him and froze in the doorway.

He was sitting on the floor with his back to the bed, a closed notebook on his lap, knees drawn up. His eyes were red. Puffy. Wet trails streaked down his cheeks. He’d been crying, and trying hard to hide it.

Her heart ached at the sight.

“Henry,” she said softly and moved to kneel in front of him. “Honey, what’s wrong?”

He looked away, sniffling, blinking hard to keep fresh tears in. But when she reached for him, he didn’t pull back. The second her arms wrapped around him, he broke.

“They said…” he hiccupped, pressing his face to her chest. “They said when you have your own baby… you’re gonna forget about me.”

It hit her like a slap.

Regina stiffened but only for a moment. Then her hold around him tightened, fiercely protective. Anger boiled under her skin. Who said that? Who dared to plant that thought in her son’s head? But she swallowed it down. Right now, Henry needed her calm, not her fury.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she whispered, pulling him tighter. “No. No, no, no…”

She tipped his chin up gently with her fingers.

“Look at me,” she said, voice soft but firm. “You are my son. From the moment I held you in my arms, you were mine. You’ll always be mine. No baby could ever replace you. No one could ever make me forget you.”

His bottom lip wobbled. “Promise?”

“I swear on everything I am.” She kissed his forehead, then his cheeks, then hugged him so tightly he made a soft little laugh through the tears.

“I love you, Mommy,” he mumbled into her shirt.

“And I love you, so much” she said fiercely. “Don’t you ever forget that. No matter how big you get or how many people try to tell you otherwise you will always be my little prince.”

He nodded quickly, tears still fresh but heart slowly stitching back together. He pulled back to look at her, eyes brighter now.

“Can I help with dinner?” he asked quietly.

Regina smiled. “I thought you’d never ask.”

They set the table together. He fetched the silverware and folded the napkins in messy triangles that she didn’t dare correct. By the time everything is lay on the table including salad bolw, which making him grimace a bit.  Henry’s mood had lifted.

He glanced up at her while arranging the glasses and said, “You know, I won’t be jealous. If you have your own baby.”

She raised a brow, intrigued. “No?”

“Nope.” He puffed out his chest. “Because I’m gonna be the best big brother ever. I’ll teach him or her how to sneak cookies when you’re not looking.”

Regina laughed, setting the casserole dish down. “Should I be concerned?”

He grinned. “Only a little.”

She paused, tilting her head.

“Are you still thinking about it?” he asked, more seriously this time. “Having a baby, I mean.”

Her smile softened.

“I’m open to it, but don’t forget that I’ll forget about you,” she said.

Henry beamed.

The front door clicked open a minute later and Emmett’s familiar boots thudded into the house. “Something smells good!” he called from the hallway.

“In the kitchen, Dad!” Henry called back, practically glowing now.

When Emmett walked in and saw them Henry smiling again, Regina looking relaxed for once and he paused. He didn’t need to ask what had happened. He just knew something had. He kissed Regina’s temple, ruffled Henry’s hair, and said nothing. He will ask her tonight.

The table was set. The food was warm. The air was peaceful.

Chapter Text

Regina was drowning in wedding plans, and oddly enough, she didn’t mind it. Between coordinating venues, tasting cakes, negotiating seating charts with Snow (who somehow believed she had a say in everything), and managing Storybrooke’s ever demanding citizens, her calendar was jam-packed.

So when Emmett offered to take Henry out for a “men’s day,” she didn’t hesitate.

“Fishing,” he said with far too much enthusiasm.

“Lovely,” she replied dryly. “Please don’t ask me to go.”

“I wasn’t going to.”

“Good.”

She kissed Henry’s forehead and sent them off with sunscreen, snacks, and one firm rule: “Don’t come home with any wild animals. Or any weird creatures in your pockets.”

She watched them go with a little smile tugging at her lips, grateful for a peaceful afternoon with spa and some time to relax. She loves them both, but they also give her a headache.

Meanwhile, beside the gently flowing river just outside of town, Emmett and Henry were settling everything near the river. Got themselves an old wooden log to sit, the water was calm and  the air smelled like grass and sun. The fish were determined not to cooperate.

Neither of them really knew what they were doing. This was the first time of father and son go fishing together.

Emmett had a line cast, Henry had already tangled his reel twice, and neither had the patience for silence. Their little tackle box sat half-forgotten beside them, more like a snack box now. Emmett had abandoned trying to teach proper technique about ten minutes ago.

Still, it was quiet. Peaceful. Until Emmett finally spoke.

“Your mom told me what happened a few days ago.”

Henry’s fingers twitched around the rod, eyes dropping to the water. He didn’t say anything, didn’t meet Emmett’s gaze. But when Emmett reached over and gently took his hand, he didn’t pull away either.

“Wanna tell me about it?” Emmett asked softly.

Henry shook his head. “Not really.”

“That’s okay.” Emmett gave his hand a squeeze. “Just… you know you can, right? Anytime. Anything. We’re here for you, kid. Always.”

There was a pause, and then Emmett pulled him in for a side hug, firm and solid.

“You’re not getting replaced,” Emmett added, voice low but certain. “Not now, not ever. You will be always our little prince forever”

Henry nodded on his shoulder with grimace at how he said ‘little prince’. 

“I just… I don’t want things to change.”

Emmett nodded too, holding him tighter. “I get that. Change is hard. But some change? Like this family we’re building? It’s not about replacing…it’s about adding. You’re part of the core, Henry.”

Henry looked up at him, lip twitching. “You mean you’re stuck with me.”

Emmett smirked. “Exactly.”

They sat like that for a few quiet minutes. Then Henry cleared his throat and said, “We’re really bad at fishing.”

Emmett chuckled. “The worst.”

“We’re too loud.”

“And we talk too much.”

Henry grinned. “Wanna go get ice cream instead?”

“Now that we can do.”

When they got home three hours later, the sun was setting and both looked suspiciously full.

Regina opened the door, arms crossed. “Do I have to guess where you guys were?”

Emmett gestured toward Henry, who licked chocolate from his fingers. “He scared them off.”

“Hey! You were too loud!”

Regina sighed, amused but her voice firm with raise of her perfect eyebrow. “So?”

“Just mint chip,” Emmett said innocently.

She arched a brow. “You took him to ice-cream.”

“He insisted.”

Henry ran to her and wrapped his arms around her waist. “We were terrible at fishing.”

She smoothed his hair, kissing the top of his head. “You’re terrible fishermen and you smell like waffle cones.”

He looked proud. “With rocky road flavour.”

She glanced up at Emmett, who shrugged with a crooked smile.

“What can I say?” he said, pulling her in with one arm. “He’s mine.”

Regina is grateful that she already had her time otherwise this duo will get in troubles.

Chapter Text

The morning was chaos—flowers late, David nearly losing the rings, Snow rearranging centerpieces like her life depended on it. Ruby was running around in heels that should've been illegal for coordination, but Regina stood in the center of it all like the eye of a storm, serene and grounded.

She hadn’t expected peace today.

Her dress hugged her like a second skin—ivory lace with long, sheer sleeves and a plunging back that revealed just enough to remind the world she was one of the goddesses alive. Appropriate, elegant, but sexy. When she looked in the mirror, for once, she didn’t see someone pretending to be okay. She saw someone ready to begin again.

She clutched the bouquet tighter when the bell rang.

Time to walk toward her future.

Toward him.

Henry stood in front with his tiny tux and proud grin. Snow, David, Ruby, Archie, even Gold was there.

And at the end of the aisle, Emmett stood tall and immovable, green eyes locked only on her.

This time, she walked with her head high—not to impress, not to perform, but to claim what was hers. Her steps were steady. Her heart raced, but not from nerves.

Because this time, it was her choice. He took her hands gently when she reached him, unable to tear his gaze from her.

“You’re stunning,” he murmured.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” she whispered back with a smirk.

Their vows were short. Honest. Promises wrapped in simplicity:

“I choose you today, tomorrow, and always.”

“I vow never to walk away when things get hard.”

Then came the rings gold and diamond, with the quiet strength of forever. And then—

“I do.”

“I do.”

The words weren’t just tradition. They were thunderous. Loud enough to silence every shadow of doubt that had once lived in either of them.

When they kissed, the crowd erupted in cheers. Henry clapped the loudest, beaming as Ruby fluffed her hair and wiped a tear she denied having.

The reception was cozy, loud, and full of magic that had nothing to do with spells. Snow and Ruby had planned it all—twinkling lights, candlelit tables, simple music that made everyone sway in uncoordinated bliss. Henry ran wild with cupcakes and compliments.

“David winked at me,” Regina muttered to Emmett during their first dance.

“He told me to ‘enjoy the night,’” Emmett replied with a roll of his eyes.

“He’s not subtle.”

“Nope.”

When the sun began to dip, Ruby cleared her throat and clapped her hands.

“Alright, lovebirds, we’re stealing your kid for the night. Go be disgusting adults.”

“Be good for them, okay?” Emmett knelt to Henry’s level and ruffled his hair.

Henry nodded solemnly. “I will. And I saved you two a cupcake each.”

Regina kissed his cheek, lingering there. “Goodnight, sweetheart. I love you.”

“I love you too, Mom.”

Emmett walked him to the car with ease. Regina kissed him again before David and Snow drove off with their precious truck.

The moment they stepped inside their quiet home, Regina kicked off her heels with a sigh that came from her soul.

“I’m taking a shower,” she murmured, voice soft with exhaustion.

“I’ll help you get out of that dress,” Emmett said, already stepping behind her.

She smirked. “So helpful.”

His fingers moved with exaggerated slowness, tracing the line of her spine as he undid the tiny zip from the lower back pass her rear. He kissed the bare skin reverently, his lips hot on her back. By the time the dress was fully unzipped, she was breathless.

He slid the dress off her shoulders, letting it pool to the floor like a whisper. She stepped out, only in her panties, and walked to the bathroom with the grace of a goddess who knew her power.

He stood frozen for a second, then took all of his clothes in one go.

They took turns in the shower—mostly. She went first, and he joined partway through, arms wrapping around her wet waist, pressing soft kisses to her neck.

But it wasn’t about urgency tonight. It was about touch. About quiet. About their first night as husband and wife—not new lovers, but bonded souls.

She kissed him softly at first—slow and lingering, her hands exploring the hard lines of his chest, the sharp dips of his abs, her palms warm against his skin.

Emmett groaned, already feeling her heat melt into him. “Okay... you’re little minx.”

Her lips brushed against his jaw, her breath hot and thick. “Hmm... no, I’m not. I’m the queen,” she whispered, her voice husky, teasing dangerously.

His pupils dilated. That voice was a siren’s call. “Then we won’t sleep tonight.”

He flipped her onto her back before she could say another word, pinning her wrists above her head and kissing her hard. Her body arched up, pressing into him as his hands roamed—gripping her breasts, kneading her ass, dragging her closer until her thighs bracketed his hips.

She moaned into his mouth, soft and aching. He swallowed it greedily.

Her nightgown was light silk, barely there. He peeled it from her body inch by inch, as if unwrapping something sacred. Her bare skin shimmered under the moonlight bleeding through their window, and he looked at her like she was made by the god himself.

When her fingers reached for his waistband, he shifted to help her. She tugged his briefs down, and he kicked them off without missing a beat. They were naked, warm skin against warm skin, chest to chest, breath to breath.

He went down on her slowly, trailing kisses along her belly, down to her inner thighs. She was already wet, already open for him.

His tongue flicked once, twice, and she gasped, head falling back into the pillows.

“Emmett,” she whimpered, breathless.

He didn’t answer. He devoured her.

Sucking, licking, and stroking with his tongue until her thighs trembled around his head. Her fingers tangled in his hair, and she cried out when the orgasm hit sharp and sudden and hot enough to make her toes curl.

She was panting, dazed when he crawled back up her body.

“Stand up,” she said suddenly, voice low and dark with intention.

He blinked. “What?”

Her gaze was direct. “You heard me.”

His brow raised, amused and curious, but he stood off the bed anyway, muscles taut and glistening. He didn’t know what to expect.

Then she slid off the bed and knelt before him.

His jaw dropped slightly, eyes widening almost comically. “Regina…”

Her hand wrapped around him, firm and confident, and before he could form another thought, her lips closed around the head of his cock.

He grunted, gripping her hair hard.

“God... Regina.”

She worked him slowly, deliberately—tongue teasing the underside, hollowing her cheeks, taking him deeper until his thighs trembled. She looked up at him through her lashes, and the sight almost made him lose it.

He was panting, groaning, on the edge of falling apart.

Before he could come, he grabbed her and lifted her in one motion, throwing her onto the bed with a deep growl. “You’re really a minx.”

She smirked. “You love it.”

He didn’t answer. He kissed her until she forgot the smirk, until her breath hitched and her body melted under him again. And then he took her. Hard.

He lost track of the positions her legs wrapped around his waist, her back arched, her mouth open and moaning his name. Then, on her side, her ankle over his shoulder. Then riding him, slow at first, until he grabbed her hips and thrust up deep and rough, watching her break apart all over again.

He flipped her onto her stomach, dragging her hips up so she was on her knees. She trembled, exhausted, but still offered herself.

He slid into her from behind, a low groan ripping from his throat. She was soaked, swollen, overstimulated, but still gasping for more.

His hand came around her front, finding her clit and rubbing it in slow, tight circles. She tried to hold herself up, but her arms gave out and she collapsed forward, cheek against the sheets, whimpering.

“E-Emmett—I can’t—”

“You can,” he said, voice thick with love and lust. “You’re perfect.”

He thrust deep three more times—long and hard—and buried himself inside her, spilling everything he had.

When he finally stilled, sweat-slick and panting, she was limp beneath him. Her body used, kissed, loved. 

Worshiped.

He pulled out gently, kissing her back, her shoulder, her cheek.

He turned her over and pulled her into his arms, one hand resting flat on her lower belly.

He said nothing. But his fingers splayed there in silence, a promise of something more.

She didn’t speak either. Just covered his hand with hers, and smiled softly.

But when his fingers slid lower, two sliding inside her with no warning, her eyes flew open, and she slapped his wrist instinctively.

He only grinned—dark and cocky.

“Emmett—!”

Three fingers stretched her open again, and despite everything, she came fast, helplessly writhing as he held her down.

She laughed breathlessly. “You’re ridiculous.”

He smirked but kissed her softly with passion and love.

When they finally curled into each other, tangled in sheets and sweat and love, sleep took them both.

Finally, whole.

Chapter Text

Morning came slowly, tangled in warmth.

Golden light spilled through the sheer curtains, dancing lazily across the sheets and their bodies. Regina lay curled against him, bare and flushed, her hair a dark halo across his chest. The air still smelled of sex and heat and something sacred.

Emmett stirred first.

Sated, satisfied, and yet somehow still hungry. His green eyes cracked open, trailing down the lines of her spine, the swell of her hips pressed to him, the faint bruises and love marks dotting her perfect skin. She was soft against him, warm and pliant.

His hand wandered.

Down the slope of her waist, over the curve of her thigh, and between her legs.

She was still slick there, wet and warm and swollen from everything he’d done to her last night.

He parted her gently, savoring the way her folds glistened. His fingers teased her entrance, and he slowly pushed one inside. She moaned softly but didn’t wake. Her thighs shifted instinctively.

His lips curled into a dark smirk.

He leaned in and kissed her cheek, her neck, the soft spot behind her ear. He remembered everything. Her mouth around him. Her knees were digging into the mattress. The way she whimpered his name while she rode him, until her body gave out.

He slid in a second finger.

She squirmed now, her breathing hitching, her mouth parting in a quiet gasp.

Still not fully awake.

He licked down her neck and sucked hard. It would leave a bruise, and he wanted that. A mark, a memory, a sign that she was his.

“Good morning, wife,” he murmured against her skin.

She yelped when he lined himself up and thrust into her with one deep, slow push. Her eyes fluttered open, dazed, her voice caught in her throat.

“E-Emmett,” she gasped.

He moved inside her gently at first, waiting for her body to wake before her mind did. Her legs shifted, her hands pressed against his chest, trying to keep up. But she was sore and tired.

“Not too deep, please,” she whimpered.

Instead of complying with her, he gripped her wrists and pinned them above her head.

His hips drove into her harder, deeper. The bed creaked beneath them. She arched, freeing her hands from his grip. Her palms were flat on his abs, but he was relentless.

She came again and again, trembling and soaked, her eyes glassy and mouth open in a silent plea.

When he finished, it was deep inside her, the last thrust shuddering through him like a storm. She collapsed beneath him, limbs limp, skin damp with sweat.

He pulled out slowly and looked down at his work.

Her thighs were trembling. Her lips were red and puffy. Her skin marked with bites and bruises, a masterpiece of ruin.

By the time she stirred again, it was midday. She wrapped a robe around herself and walked slowly into the kitchen, muttering something about her legs being useless.

“Everything hurts,” she said as she sat gingerly on a stool. “You’re a menace.”

Emmett was already at the stove, shirtless, humming something low and smug.

“You loved it,” he said without looking at her.

She shot him a glare, but it lacked heat. “I didn’t love not being able to walk properly.”

He turned around, grinning like the devil. “You’re glowing.”

She scoffed. “I’m limping, you fool.”

He brought her a plate of warm food, set it down, and kissed the top of her head. His hand slid over her waist, down her hip, then casually cupped her between the legs.

She slapped his hand away instantly. “Emmett!. We are not doing that again, not until I can feel my legs.”

“No promises,” he murmured against her neck.

Henry wouldn’t be home until tomorrow. And Emmett had plans.

They had the house to themselves, and he was going to make every moment worth it.

Dinner was quite peaceful, even.

The rain had started to fall gently as Emmett served the last of the roast chicken and potatoes, his hands brushing hers every chance he got. Regina sat with her legs tucked beneath her, still sore, but full of that golden ache that came with being ruined by the man she now called husband.

The house was quiet except for the occasional clap of thunder rumbling low in the distance. A storm was forming. The windows glowed with candlelight, the kind that made everything feel softer, more intimate.

After dinner, they curled up on the couch, Emmett with a bottle of beer, Regina with her favorite red wine. The fireplace crackled low. The television flickered, playing something forgettable. Neither of them really watched it.

They had just hung up a video call with Henry. He was curled up at the loft with Snow and David, happily showing them his list of wedding moments to scrapbook. He looked safe, warm, and completely himself. Seeing him like that melted the last of Regina’s guilt.

“I miss him already,” she said, sipping her wine.

“I know,” Emmett murmured, his hand resting on her bare thigh. His fingers traced slow circles along her skin, kneading softly.

“He told Snow we were ‘probably kissing a lot.’” Regina rolled her eyes.

Emmett laughed, deep and gravelly. “He’s not wrong.”

“Still. He’s ten.”

“Smart kid.”

She snorted and leaned into him. The silence between them was heavy with want. The kind that pulsed just beneath the skin, slow and steady, like the drumbeat of a storm approaching.

“I want to have a baby with you,” he said quietly, lips brushing her temple.

Regina turned her head, raising an eyebrow. “You’re obsessed.”

“Damn right I am.”

She smirked. “You’re already a father.”

He shifted, pulling her into his lap. “I want to see you swollen with my child. I want to feel them kicking.”

She rolled her eyes at his intensity, but her breath caught when his hand slid higher on her thigh. He wasn’t joking.

“God, you’re insane,” she whispered.

“And you love it.”

She kissed him then, slow and warm at first, her lips brushing his with the weight of something deeper. His hands gripped her hips, anchoring her as the kiss turned greedy. Tongues tangled. Breath hitched. Her glass clattered to the table as she grabbed his face, pulling him closer.

Moments blurred. She lay back on the couch, her robe parting around her like petals. Her legs opened for him, bare and waiting. The flicker of lightning painted her skin in silver light.

He didn’t ask.

He didn’t need to.

His body covered hers, his hand guiding himself to her entrance, still sore and sensitive from the morning. He pushed in slowly, filling her inch by inch. A moan tore from her lips.

“God—Emmett—”

Her hands pressed to his abs, trying to slow him. But he was already moving deeper. Already bending her knees back to her chest.

“Don’t fight it,” he growled in her ear.

The couch creaked. Her body gave way, wet and desperate. He found a rhythm—a hard, punishing rhythm that made the windows rattle louder than the storm outside.

Thunder cracked. The lights flickered.

They tumbled off the couch and onto the carpeted floor, limbs tangled.

The lightning flashed again and caught his face above her—eyes dark, jaw tight, slick with sweat and hunger. His hips snapped into hers with vicious precision. Her cries filled the room, half drowned out by the pounding rain on the roof.

She was breathless beneath him, helpless—completely, utterly at his mercy.

And he knew no mercy tonight.

Her fingers clawed at his back, her legs trembling around his waist.

She shuddered with his name on her lips, barely able to scream it. He chased her into oblivion, then followed with a deep, guttural moan—loud enough to rival the thunder.

He collapsed on top of her, panting, heart racing.

The storm outside roared on.

Inside, she lay beneath him, filled and shaking.

His mouth brushed her ear, voice ragged but full of that same dark promise.

“Still not done.”