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The snow fell gently over Storybrooke, blanketing the town in a soft, shimmering layer of white. Twinkling fairy lights were strung across the streets, casting a warm glow over the bustling Christmas Market. Emma Swan stood at the entrance, inhaling the crisp winter air, letting it fill her lungs with the sharp bite of pine, cinnamon, and roasted chestnuts.
She had never really done Christmas growing up. The foster homes she bounced between rarely celebrated with anything beyond a small plastic tree or a store-bought wreath. So, standing here now, surrounded by the laughter of families, couples bundled up in scarves, and the smell of hot cocoa in the air, she felt something warm and foreign swell in her chest— joy .
But it wasn’t just the lights or the snow that made it special. It was Henry, darting between the stalls with the unbridled excitement only a teenager could have, and Regina, standing beside her, watching their son with the softest of smiles—a look that seemed to thaw the coldest parts of Emma’s guarded heart.
“Mom! Mom!” Henry’s voice cut through the noise as he sprinted back towards them, a candy cane in one hand and a Santa hat slightly askew on his head. “Can I go hang out with Violet and the others? They’re meeting by the skating rink!”
Emma shared a glance with Regina, whose expression held a blend of maternal protectiveness and understanding. Regina arched a perfectly manicured brow. “As long as you stay where we can see you, and don’t forget you promised to help me pick out a wreath.”
“Sure, Mom!” he agreed quickly, before turning to Emma. “And you’re gonna help me find that perfect ornament for the tree, right, ‘Ma?”
Emma grinned, feeling that familiar tug of pride. “You bet, kid. Go on, have fun.” She ruffled his hair playfully before he dashed off, leaving a trail of laughter in his wake. Emma’s gaze lingered on him for a moment before it shifted back to Regina, who was already walking ahead, her heels leaving delicate impressions in the snow. Emma hurried to catch up, falling into step beside her.
“Are you sure he’s okay to go off on his own?” Emma asked, half-joking, as they navigated the crowd together, their shoulders brushing.
“Henry’s not a little boy anymore, Emma,” Regina replied, her tone gentle, her eyes flicking to the group of teens gathered around the Christmas tree. “He’s growing up… though I do wish he would slow down a bit.”
Emma chuckled. “You and me both.”
They fell into a comfortable silence, strolling past stalls filled with homemade ornaments, fragrant candles, and colorful scarves. Children laughed as they chased each other between the stands, their excited squeals rising above the Christmas carols playing from hidden speakers. Emma couldn’t help but marvel at how right it all felt—the three of them, Henry running off to be with friends, and her and Regina here… together.
Like a family.
She wouldn’t say it out loud, but that’s how it felt. She was beginning to see Regina not just as Henry’s other mom, but as family . Her eyes softened as she watched Regina examine a booth filled with sparkling glass baubles. There was a relaxed ease in Regina’s posture that Emma rarely saw, her smile genuine and unguarded.
When they walked by a booth selling handmade ornaments, Regina pointed out a delicate glass swan, and Emma smiled at the teasing twinkle in her eyes. “Very funny,” she said, nudging Regina’s shoulder playfully.
Regina chuckled, but before she could respond, a familiar and unwelcome figure made his appearance.
“Regina!” Robin Hood’s voice boomed, overly cheery. He pushed his way through the crowd, flashing Regina his most charming smile. “I was hoping to catch you here.”
Emma rolled her eyes, muttering under her breath, “Oh, come on…”
“A Christmas rose for the most beautiful woman in Storybrooke.” He offered her a white bloom with a flourish.
Emma’s patience, already thin, nearly snapped. Robin had been circling around Regina for weeks, despite her polite rejections, and Emma had had enough. She stepped forward, her voice light but with a distinct edge. “You know, Robin, I think the lady’s already got company.” She looped an arm casually around Regina’s waist, the brunette’s eyes widened slightly, then narrowed with amusement. She didn’t pull away; instead, she leaned into Emma’s side, letting out a soft, musical laugh.
Robin’s expression darkened slightly, but he forced a tight smile. “Of course. Another time then, Regina.”
They watched the man leave, and as soon as he was out of earshot, Regina’s laughter broke free—a sound that was warm and light, like the bells tinkling from a nearby stall. “Possessive much, Sheriff?” she asked, her eyes dancing with amusement.
Emma flushed, very aware of how close they were standing. She dropped her arm and tried to shrug it off. “I just… he’s… persistent,” she mumbled, feeling heat rise to her cheeks despite the cold. There was something about the way Regina was looking at her, a softness in her gaze that made it hard to breathe.
“Persistent, yes,” Regina said with a gentle lilt, her tone like a warm tease, but there was something deeper in her eyes—a warmth that drew Emma in, even as it made her feel strangely exposed. For a moment, the world around them seemed to shrink, the bustling market sounds dimming. Emma’s senses narrowed down to the feel of the icy snowflakes landing on her skin and the steady rhythm of her breath hanging in the crisp air.
Emma’s heart pounded as Regina’s hand moved, fingers reaching out to touch the edge of her red leather jacket. Emma felt the gentle tug, and the sudden proximity sent a rush of heat through her. Regina’s face was so close now, and Emma could see the delicate dusting of snow on Regina’s dark hair, the way her breath misted in the frigid air. Time seemed to slow, each second stretching out like the falling snowflakes, suspended and weightless.
“But you’re bold, Miss Swan,” Regina whispered, so close that Emma could feel the warmth of her breath against her lips. Emma’s own breath hitched, and before she could overthink it, before she could pull back or laugh it off, Regina’s lips were on hers—soft and certain.
Emma’s eyes fluttered shut as she leaned into the kiss, her senses drowning in the warmth that radiated from Regina’s touch. The chill of the evening vanished, replaced by the gentle pressure of Regina’s mouth, the way her fingers curled into the collar of Emma’s jacket. A shudder ran down Emma’s spine, a mix of cold and heat as she wrapped her arms around Regina’s waist, drawing her closer. For a brief, perfect moment, nothing else existed—the music, the chatter, the market lights—it all faded into the background, leaving only the taste of the kiss and the feel of Regina’s cool fingers brushing against her neck.
When they finally pulled apart, Emma’s eyes opened slowly, her breath catching as she saw the expression on Regina’s face—a softness, a vulnerability that made Emma’s heart twist with something she hadn’t let herself feel in years. She wanted to say something, anything, but words wouldn’t come, her breath fogging the space between them as they stood there, inches apart.
Regina gave her jacket a gentle tug, a half-smile curving on her lips. “Finally,” she breathed, her voice barely audible over the hum of the market.
Emma opened her mouth to respond, but her gaze was pulled away by movement in the crowd. She spotted Henry by the hot chocolate stand, waving at them with a goofy grin. He lifted a steaming cup in mock celebration, giving them a dramatic thumbs-up that made Emma’s heart swell. She chuckled, the sound shaky and light, a release of tension she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Warmth spread through her, settling deep inside like a glow that refused to fade.
“Looks like he’s okay with this,” she said, turning back to Regina, who hadn’t let go of her jacket.
Regina’s smile softened, her fingers sliding down until they found Emma’s hand, linking their cold fingers together. The chill from Regina’s skin met the heat of Emma’s, and Emma’s heart swelled with a fierce, protective warmth. She squeezed Regina’s hand, feeling a rush of certainty that made her chest tighten.
They stood there for a long moment, the snowfall blurring the edges of the world around them. The sounds of the market returned—muffled laughter, the rustle of evergreen wreaths, the soft strains of a Christmas carol drifting on the breeze—but none of it mattered. Emma’s eyes caught the glow of the fairy lights above, casting a soft golden halo over Regina’s face. She let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding, feeling the last of her doubts melt away.
“Come on,” Regina said gently, her voice grounding Emma in the moment. She gave Emma’s hand a small tug, and Emma followed without hesitation, their fingers still entwined. They walked together through the bustling market, the air filled with the scent of roasted chestnuts and spiced cider. Snowflakes drifted lazily down, catching in Regina’s hair and on the shoulders of her coat, and Emma felt something shift deep inside her—something she hadn’t let herself believe in for a long time.
She glanced over at Regina, who was talking about the wreath they needed to pick out, and something in Emma’s chest settled—a sense of rightness, a feeling like home, not tied to any place but to the person walking beside her. She squeezed Regina’s hand a little tighter, feeling the gentle pressure of Regina’s fingers in return, and she knew that this—whatever this was—was real.
The lights of the market twinkled above them, and for the first time in years, Emma let herself smile without holding back, believing—just a little—in the magic of Christmas.