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jrob64 · 11 months ago

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Hitting a High Note - A CS Modern AU Christmas Story

Merry Christmas everyone! While looking through my library of stories, I realized I've never written a Christmas story and decided to remedy that.

Special thanks and a very Merry Christmas to my loyal beta @hookedmom who has already agreed to stick with me and my muse through the New Year.

SUMMARY: Emma Swan talks her friend Killian Jones into going Christmas caroling, but she gets more than she bargains for when she hears him sing.

Rating: G (pure Christmas fluff!)

Words: 6227 (one-shot)

Also posted to Ao3 and ffn

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Killian Jones buttoned his black pea coat, then wrapped a festive green and gold scarf around his neck. After pulling a red knit cap onto his head, he checked his reflection in the mirror above his dresser and arranged his hair so that a few strands fell artfully over his forehead.

“I can’t believe she talked me into doing this,” he grumbled under his breath, but in truth, he absolutely could believe it. Emma Swan would be able to talk him into just about anything, seeing as how he was utterly and completely in love with her.

If only he was brave enough to tell her.

It wasn’t love at first sight for him. The first time he laid eyes on her was at the end of his second week in Storybrooke. She was tucked into her boyfriend’s side at The Rabbit Hole, a local hangout. That boyfriend happened to be Walsh Osterfeld, one of the most arrogant and irritating men Killian ever had the misfortune of meeting. He made the assumption then and there that the blonde who looked happy to have Walsh’s arm wrapped around her was just as bad as him.

But you know what they say about assuming.

In the weeks following that initial introduction, Emma frequently visited the library where Killian had just begun working. It turned out she was quite the bookworm, dispelling his theory that she wasn’t very intelligent, formulated solely because of who she was dating.

Usually, Killian politely waited on her while speaking minimally, but when she checked out a book written by his favorite author, he complimented her choice. Looking up at her when he handed her the receipt, he was frozen in place by the sparkle in her emerald eyes as she gave him a rather shy smile.

“Thanks,” she replied. “My ex told me he hated this author, and since he and I ended up not having much in common, I figured it was worth giving one of these books a try.”

“Your ex, huh?” Killian couldn’t stop himself from asking.

“Yeah, we recently broke up.”

“Sorry to hear that,” he mumbled, though he was not at all sorry.

“Don’t be. We dated just long enough for me to figure out he’s very annoying.”

“So, just a few minutes, then?” Killian quipped, then realized his mistake.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Why would you say that?”

He felt his face heat with embarrassment as he reached up to scratch nervously behind his ear. “Oh, um, I…I saw you at The Rabbit Hole a while back and you were, uh, pretty cozy with Walsh Osterfeld. I’m not a fan of his.”

Emma looked surprised. “How do you know him?”

“When my brother was setting up his accounting office, he and I went to Osterfeld’s store in search of furniture. He tried to sell Liam the most expensive pieces on display and when Liam said he wasn’t interested, Walsh treated him like he wasn’t worth his time. I convinced Liam to leave and we hired Marco Booth to make everything he needed for half the price of what Osterfeld was asking.”

“Doesn’t surprise me,” Emma responded. “He treated all of my friends pretty much the same way - like they didn’t measure up to his standards. I got tired of it rather quickly.”

Killian hummed, then leaned forward to tap his finger on the cover of the book she held. “Well, I truly think you’ll like this. Hopefully, I’ll be working when you return it and you’ll be able to give me your review.”

“Chances of that are pretty good, because you seem to be here nearly every time I come in lately. You haven’t worked here long, have you?”

“Only a few weeks. My brother and I moved here after I recuperated from surgery.” He held up the prosthetic at the end of his left arm. “Liam hated living in a big city and since I no longer had a job, I decided to make the move with him. Once tax season was over in April, he quit his job at an accounting firm in Boston because he was planning to open an office here. The bonus is that Storybrooke is a harbor town. Liam and I both like being near the water.”

“How did you find out about Storybrooke? It’s a pretty obscure place.”

“Do you know August Booth?”

“Yeah, he goes to my church. Marco’s son.”

“That’s the one. He’s my brother’s friend and former college roommate. He told Liam there weren’t any accountants in this town. ”

“I’ve seen your brother’s office. I’ll probably be requiring his services on April 14th next year.”

He chuckled. “Even though he’s very good, we hope not everyone in town waits until the last day of tax season to employ him.”

“You’re good at what you do, too,” she commented.

“Well, it doesn’t take a genius to work in a library.”

“Maybe not, but it does take someone who is helpful, knowledgeable about books, and treats people with respect. I’m Emma Swan, by the way,” she said, offering him her hand.

He shook it. “Killian Jones, at your service.”

That was the beginning of their friendship. He started to look forward to her frequent visits to the library and their impromptu discussions about books and other things. He found himself telling her about the accident that cost him his hand and job in construction. He explained that with the settlement he received from workman’s compensation, combined with his savings, he was able to afford to move and take a job that, although it paid less, was far more enjoyable.

Soon, they were meeting in the mornings for coffee before she left for her job at a flower shop, and watching movies at each other’s apartment on evenings when he didn’t work. Her friends became his as they hung out together at The Rabbit Hole on the weekends, and attended the same church.

When the announcement about Christmas caroling appeared in the church bulletin, Killian didn’t give it a second thought. Singing in the shower was one thing, singing in public was quite another. But when Emma asked him to come along, explaining how much fun it was to sing to people who were shut-ins, lonely, or just needed some Christmas spirit, he caved. Now he’s a man in love with a woman who liked him only as a friend, doing something that took him way out of his comfort zone.

He had never been Christmas caroling before, so he wasn’t sure what to expect. He did know it would only be a small group of them singing though, which made him a little nervous. He felt more comfortable fading into the background in the middle of a crowd.

When he was growing up, his vagabond father moved their family often, not staying in any one place longer than a year or two. Liam took it as a challenge, making new friends and trying to fit in at every new school and neighborhood, but Killian grew more withdrawn and quiet. Even as an adult, he avoided situations which would draw attention to himself.

His phone buzzed on the dresser. Pulling himself out of his morose thoughts, he picked it up and read the message.

E: See you in 10 if you don’t chicken out.

The gif of a squawking chicken accompanying the text made him laugh. Emma had a knack for finding funny gifs and memes, which always brought a smile to his face. His thumb hit the microphone key and he spoke into his phone to record a return message.

K: I won’t chicken out as long as there are donuts & hot chocolate afterwards, as promised.

E: There better be, or I’m gonna be one cranky caroler.

After sending a laughing emoji, he stuffed the phone into the front pocket of his jeans, checked his reflection one more time, and left the small house he shared with Liam.

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Emma fluffed out her blond hair over the collar of her red winter coat and adjusted the buffalo plaid scarf around her neck. After tugging a gray beanie onto her head, she checked her reflection in the mirror, applied some tinted lip gloss, and gave herself a small nod of approval.

She felt a little guilty being so concerned with how she looked, because the idea of Christmas caroling was to make other people feel good. Besides, she was going with a group of her best friends, so it wasn’t a matter of trying to impress anyone.

Except Killian Jones.

“You are such an idiot,” she quietly admonished herself. “He’s just a friend and you’re not supposed to be looking for someone to date. Remember the promise you made to yourself after you broke up with Walsh?” she asked her reflection.

Just thinking about her ex-boyfriend made her cringe. She kicked herself many times over agreeing to go out with him. He was pompous, domineering and snobby, all things she despised in a person. Although, to be fair, she didn’t know those things when she first started dating him. They came to light gradually as she spent more time with him, leaving her with the feeling that she wasn’t a very good judge of character.

She didn’t think she was wrong about Killian, though. He was sweet, sincere, considerate and humble; any woman would be lucky to date him. Maybe she should try setting him up with someone. He was still fairly new in town, and hadn’t met all of her friends yet. Belle had just gotten out of a bad relationship, and Mary Margaret’s teacher friends, Aurora and Jasmine, weren’t seeing anyone.

She wondered if he was even interested in dating. In all the time they’d known each other, he never mentioned a significant other. Maybe he had a girlfriend back in Boston and just didn’t talk about her. Or maybe, like her, he’d been in a bad relationship and swore off dating.

Regardless, she was going to be late if she kept musing about him. Grabbing her purse off of the bed, she dug through it for her keys, then left her apartment and hurried outside to her car parked along the curb.

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Emma and Killian pulled up to the church simultaneously and parked beside each other. After unbuckling her seatbelt, she swung her car door open, got out and slammed it shut. She might love her little yellow bug, but it had some issues, such as the door popping back open if you didn’t shut it hard enough.

“Hey, Jones,” she called, walking around the back of her car to meet him. “Went with a sock hat, I see.”

“Pardon me?” he asked, puzzlement apparent on his stupidly handsome face.

“Your hat. I thought you would wear something different.”

She watched him scratch behind his ear, a habit she found quite adorable. “What were you expecting?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “Maybe a top hat with a sprig of holly?”

“I agreed to Christmas carol, not to look like I belong in the ‘Christmas Carol’,” he replied, rolling his eyes.

Emma giggled. It seemed nobody could make her laugh more than Killian Jones, with his dry but sharp sense of humor.

“Are you ready to do this?” she asked, beginning to walk up the sidewalk to the church.

He fell into step beside her. “Uh, I guess.”

“You don’t sound very sure.”

“I’ve never gone caroling before,” he admitted.

She threaded her arm through his left elbow. “Well, there’s a first time for everything. It’ll be fun, you’ll see.”

He hummed and patted her arm with his right hand. “If you say so, Swan.”

“I do.”

They entered the church lobby and saw that most of the other carolers were already there. Ashley and her husband, Shawn, Mary Margaret and David, Ruby, Belle, Elsa, Anna and her fiancé Kris, and a few other people from their church - around fifteen in all.

“We’ll be singing to eight elderly church members and then going over to a nursing home,” Mary Margaret informed them as soon as they joined the cluster of people. “Since they’re spread out all over town, we’ll need to drive from place to place. We’ve already determined who is driving and who will be in each car. The two of you will be with us in my car. David will drive.”

“Why can’t I drive?” Emma asked.

“Perhaps because we all value our lives,” Killian teased, tongue in cheek.

“Hey!” Emma protested. “I’m an excellent driver!”

“It’s not your driving skills we question, Swan. It’s that dodgy excuse for a car.”

She glared at him. “Insult my car at your own risk, Jones.”

“I just did,” he assured her.

They realized the rest of the group had started to file out of the church, so they followed along, still arguing about her car. In front of them, Mary Margaret and David shared amused looks.

Just as Emma and Killian were settling into the back seat, there was a knock on Emma’s window. She looked over to see August peering in at her. “Got room for one more?” he asked, loud enough to be heard through the glass.

“Uh, sure,” Emma said, opening the door, then sliding over to the middle of the seat. August squeezed in beside her and she scooted even closer to Killian.

“Thanks,” August said. “I lost track of the time and was afraid I would be left behind.”

“It’s good to have you with us,” David commented as he put the car in drive and followed Kris’s vehicle out of the parking lot.

“Hey, August,” Killian greeted, leaning forward to speak around Emma.

“Hey, yourself,” August smiled. “Is Liam in one of the other cars?”

“No, I invited him to come, but he’s an old Scrooge and said it was too cold. It’s probably for the best, though. He’s a terrible singer.”

Emma elbowed him sharply. “Be nice.”

“Ouch!” Killian exclaimed. “Are you trying to break a rib, Swan?”

“Stop being so dramatic. You probably didn’t even feel it through all your layers of clothes.”

He continued to rub his side. “Once you hear my brother sing, you’re going to realize I was right, and then you’ll owe me an apology for bruising me.”

“I hate to say it, but I agree with Killian on this one,” August piped up. “Liam and I were fraternity brothers at college, and hearing him sing the Alma Mater had me wishing I could transfer to another university.”

Everyone in the car began to laugh. “Poor Liam,” Mary Margaret said when it died down. “We shouldn’t be making fun of him when he’s not even here to defend himself.”

“Liam is plenty talented,” Killian said. “Just not in singing.”

“Oh, don’t forget to buckle your seatbelts,” Mary Margaret stated, ever the designated mom of the group.

Killian felt Emma’s hand reach down between their hips and brush against his butt as she searched for hers, and he leaned toward her to say, “Um, that’s not your seatbelt, Love.”

She jerked her hand away quickly and he chuckled when he saw color fill her cheeks. “Sorry,” she mumbled.

“Think nothing of it.” He reluctantly moved closer to the door and pulled the buckles between them free so they could fasten their belts. “Maybe someday I can return the favor,” he continued, flirtateously waggling his eyebrows at her.

As he expected, she rolled her eyes at him playfully, then turned to ask August a question. Killian rubbed his gloved hand and prosthesis against his jean-clad knees, and looked out his window toward the sideview mirror, only to see Mary Margaret’s face reflected in it. His eyes widened and he felt himself blush when he saw the sly smile and sparkle in her eyes as her gaze bounced between himself and Emma.

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The first stop was a learning experience for Killian. He stood in the middle of the group and sang along softly, but mostly just watched the rest of the carolers and the recipients of their songs. Observing the smiles on all of their faces, his heart filled with the joy of the season

Marco’s house was the next stop and after they piled out of their car, August went inside to get his father. While they waited for him to bundle up and make his appearance, Killian edged closer to where Emma stood chatting with Mary Margaret.

When the dark-haired woman noticed his presence, she gave him a conspiratorial smile and subtly took a step to the side, leaving a gap beside Emma, which Killian filled immediately. He always liked listening to her voice as she sang the hymns in church and wanted to hear her sing the beautiful Christmas carols.

He watched her bounce on her toes and rub her upper arms briskly, breath coming out in steamy clouds. “Cold, Swan?” he asked.

“A little, but I don’t mind. It just makes me look forward to the hot chocolate even more.”

“I’m sure Marco will appreciate our caroling,” he said, stepping closer to her, hoping to block the wind a bit.

“Yeah, he will. He appreciates everything. I love his cheery outlook on life.”

“Aye, he’s a sweet soul…”

At that moment, the front door opened and Marco stepped out, followed by August, who descended the steps to rejoin the group. Mary Margaret began singing “Hark, the Herald Angels Sing” and everyone else joined in immediately.

When the song ended, Marco applauded, a smile lighting up his weathered face. “Now don’t be afraid to sing a little louder,” he said. “These old ears don’t work so well anymore!”

They appeased him by adding more volume to “Jingle Bells” followed by “Up on the Housetop”, complete with all the hand motions.

“Let’s do one more,” David said.

“Dad’s favorite carol is ‘The First Noel’,” August shared.

Everyone nodded their agreement and once again, Mary Margaret started the song. By this time, Killian felt more comfortable and confident in his singing, his clear tenor voice gaining volume. Every now and then, he saw Emma glancing at him, giving him a somewhat quizzical look. He briefly wondered what she was thinking, but he was enjoying himself and didn’t dwell on it.

When he hit the high note on the final ‘noel’ of the song, he was watching Marco’s beaming face, so he failed to see the look of awe on Emma’s.

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After bidding Marco goodbye and returning to their cars to travel to the next place, Emma sat wedged between August and Killian, trying to evaluate the feelings washing over her. Of course she liked Killian, and of course she found him attractive. She was a heterosexual female, after all. But after months of convincing herself that he was nothing more than her friend, suddenly her eyes were opened to the truth - she had feelings for him that went much deeper than simply friendship. It was as if that high note he sang hit her right in the heart.

“Alright there, Swan?”

She startled at his question and shook herself out of her musing. “Oh, um, yeah. I’m fine, just a bit chilly,” she replied, not looking at him. She didn’t want to risk him reading her thoughts.

Killian reached over to adjust the temperature setting on the console in front of her. His arm brushed against her leg, causing a rush of warmth through her that had nothing to do with the car’s heating system.

“Thank you,” she murmured, wondering why she hadn’t thought of doing that herself, while at the same time knowing it was because her mind was elsewhere. For the rest of the ride to the next location, she engaged August in conversation.

As the evening progressed, Emma somewhat successfully redirected her thoughts to the fun and joyful activity. Whenever they gathered to sing, she intended to put some distance between herself and Killian, but was magnetically drawn to him and his melodious voice.

After caroling at all of their scheduled stops, they made their way back to the church, where volunteers had coffee, hot chocolate and donuts waiting for them in the community room. Emma picked up her warm beverage and snack, then busied herself talking to Elsa and Anna. She saw Killian sitting with David and Mary Margaret, but didn’t join them as she normally would. Once her conversation with the sisters was over, she noticed Killian heading her way and quickly tossed her trash in the bin, then ducked into the restroom.

When she emerged several minutes later, Killian was leaning against the wall beside the door. “Swan, are you avoiding me?” he asked.

“What? No!” she immediately responded. “What makes you think that?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. It just seems like you’ve been talking to everyone except me this evening. Have I done something to upset you?”

Her fingers began toying with the chain around her neck, a nervous habit of hers. “No, Killian, you haven’t done anything wrong. I just…I guess I was busy catching up with some of my other friends.”

Killian scratched behind his ear, a nervous habit of his own. “Sorry, Swan. I didn’t mean to accuse you. Of course you have other friends and want to talk to them. I shouldn’t have been so sensitive.”

Emma felt bad. Here he was apologizing when she had been avoiding him most of the evening. “Don’t worry about it, Killian. Like I said, you didn’t do anything wrong.” Looking around, she realized many people were getting ready to leave. “I think I’m gonna say goodbye to Mary Margaret and David and call it a night.”

“I think I’ll do the same.”

They walked together to the table where the couple still sat. After chatting with them for a few moments, Killian helped Emma into her coat and donned his own, then they exited the building. There was an awkward silence as they walked side-by-side toward their cars and she knew it was her fault. They usually spoke so freely and easily to each other, but now, her discomfort and confusion over her newly discovered feelings was driving an invisible wedge between them.

They reached her car and Killian yanked the driver’s side door handle, but it wouldn’t budge.

“You have to have the magic touch,” Emma stated. After breathing on the side of her balled fist, she rapped it on the doorframe just above the handle, then grinned at him triumphantly when she pulled on it and it instantly opened.

He was unimpressed. “I don’t think you need the magic touch, I think you need a tow truck,” he said dryly, rolling his eyes.

Giving a little huff, she settled behind the steering wheel. “My car might not be as fancy as yours,” she said, eyeing his Chevy Chevelle parked beside hers, “but it gets me where I want to go.”

“If you say so, Love,” he sighed. “Drive home safely.”

“I will,” she promised, then closed the door and fastened her seat belt. The VW’s engine roared to life, she pushed in the clutch, then shifted into reverse. After backing out of the parking space and putting it into gear, she waved at him and pulled out of the parking lot.

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Killian watched the dilapidated bug until it turned the corner, before he got into his own vehicle. As he traveled home, he wondered about Emma’s behavior throughout the evening. Everything seemed perfectly normal for the first couple of stops, but after caroling to Marco, she hardly said another word to him.

He racked his brain to figure out what he did to upset her, but couldn’t come up with anything. When they were in the car, she was either talking to August or appeared to be lost in thought. After arriving back at the church, he thought she would join Mary Margaret, David and himself at their table. He didn’t think anything of her talking to Elsa and Anna instead of sitting with them, until he was walking over to ask if he could get her another hot cocoa. She still had a small piece of donut left, but when she saw him coming, she tossed it in the trash and hurried into the bathroom.

It was at that point that he realized she was avoiding him for some reason. Even though she walked with him to her car, she still hardly said anything to him.

The Christmas caroling was fun. He thoroughly enjoyed the fellowship with the other singers and seeing the obvious pleasure the caroling brought to the recipients, but as he drove home, he had a hollow feeling in his gut. He wished he knew why Emma suddenly seemed uncomfortable in his presence.

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Emma couldn’t sleep. Once she got home after Christmas caroling, she soaked in a hot bath for a while, then tried to read, but her thoughts kept drifting, so she finally gave up and went to bed. Now, she was lying wide awake, while memories of the last seven months ran through her mind.

When had she developed romantic feelings for Killian Jones? And more importantly, what was she going to do about it?

She never had any luck with dating. Oh, she’d been asked out plenty of times, but it usually ended up being a one time thing. The only two guys she went out with more than once were Neal and Walsh, and both turned out to be losers. Maybe the problem was that she set her standards so high, nobody could meet them.

Killian Jones might just prove her wrong…if she gave him a chance.

Rolling onto her side, she stretched to grab her phone off of the nightstand and checked the time. Seeing that it was only a few minutes after eleven, she sighed. She felt like she had been in bed for hours, tossing and turning, trying to clear her mind of the swirling thoughts.

Almost subconsciously, she tapped on her messages app and scrolled through until she reached the thread with Killian. They sometimes texted late in the evenings, so she was sure he wouldn’t mind.

E: Are you awake?

K: No. Sound asleep.

E: Liar.

K: What’s up?

Emma hesitated before answering, debating whether or not to take a risk. Killian had become a good friend and she had no idea if his feelings were anything like her own. If she admitted them, would it ruin their friendship, or lead to something wonderful?

Finally, she made a decision.

E: Can I call you?

Within seconds, his name appeared on her screen as an incoming call. Taking a deep breath, she steeled her nerves and answered, “Hey, I hope you don’t mind me texting you so late.”

“Not at all, Swan. What’s on your mind?”

“I, uh, I wanted to apologize for tonight. You were right - I was avoiding you.”

There was a long pause before he replied in a quiet voice, “May I ask why?”

It was her turn to pause as she tried to establish what she wanted to say. “I didn’t know you had such a great singing voice.”

“My voice is what caused you to avoid me?” he asked incredulously.

“No, I…it’s just that I…” She heaved a sigh. “I’m screwing this all up.”

“Screwing what up?”

“My apology and my…confession.”

“Confession?” he asked, his tone heavy with confusion. “What are you confessing?”

“I…you know what? Just forget it. This is a conversation I’d really rather have in person.”

She heard him clear his throat. When he spoke his next words, she had to strain to hear him. “I can be there in fifteen minutes, Emma.”

“Killian, I’m not asking you to come over in the middle of the…”

“I know you’re not asking, but I’m offering. Is that alright with you?”

Emma plucked at her blanket, knowing she probably wouldn’t get any sleep until she talked to him. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”

“Positive. I’ll change clothes and be there as soon as possible.”

“Thanks, Killian. Drive carefully.”

After his assurance that he would, she hopped out of bed and tugged a hoodie over her pajama top. Then she began pacing the floor as she waited, trying to compose in her head what she was going to say.

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Killian was never so glad that Storybrooke was small, since Emma lived on the opposite side of town. It also worked in his favor that the streets were nearly deserted and the town sheriff was likely snoozing in the police station, because he couldn’t help going a little over the speed limit to try to get there quicker.

His mind was racing, replaying what Emma said over the phone. A confession. What could that mean? Was she going to confess she didn’t want to be his friend anymore, or maybe she was dating someone? Engaged? Secretly married?

Stop it, he commanded himself. Of course she wasn’t married or engaged, or surely he would have found that out in the last several months.

Still, a confession usually meant something that was hard to admit. Could she possibly have feelings for him that went beyond friendship? Dare he hope for that?

Finally arriving at her apartment, he pulled up to the curb, cut the engine, and took a couple of deep, calming breaths. In a few minutes, he would find out whatever it was Emma wanted to confess. He just hoped he could handle it.

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Emma was still trying to figure out what she was going to say, when she heard a soft knock on her door. Always the gentleman, she knew Killian wouldn’t want to wake her neighbors by knocking too loudly.

She gave herself a quick pep talk as she crossed the living room, then turned the knob and opened the door. If she hadn’t been so focused on the upcoming conversation, she would have laughed at her friend’s untidy appearance. He wore a pair of baggy gray sweatpants and a navy blue hoodie with ‘Adidas’ emblazoned on the front in white letters. His usually neatly combed hair looked like he’d run his hand through it numerous times and she saw a bit of toothpaste at the corner of his mouth.

Stepping aside, she waved him into the room. “Thanks for coming over.”

“Not a problem, Love,” he said.

She closed the door and turned to face him. It was obvious he was just as nervous as her by the way he rubbed at the nape of his neck. “Do you want to sit down?” she offered.

“Uh, sure.”

He sat on the edge of the sofa and she dropped down onto the other end of it, fidgeting with the drawstring of her hoodie. After several moments of tense silence, she said, “I guess I owe you an explanation for why I acted the way I did tonight.”

“You don’t owe me anything, but I’ll listen if you want to tell me.”

She gave him a small smile and he encouraged her with a slight nod. “I…we, um, we’ve known each other for over seven months now, right?”

“We met in May, so that sounds about right.”

“You’ve become a good friend to me, Killian. You’re easy to talk to and you always make me laugh, no matter how bad of a mood I’m in. But tonight, when I heard you sing, it was…it was like a switch flipped and suddenly I realized I feel…different towards you.”

When she paused for a few moments, he coaxed her to continue. “What do you mean by different, Swan?”

Slowly, she pulled her eyes up to meet his, and the gentleness she saw in the blue depths gave her the courage to go on. “My feelings have gone beyond friendship. I…I think I’m falling for you.”

Holding her breath, she awaited his response. The stunned expression on his face had her rethinking her decision to tell him, but the grin that slowly stretched across his handsome features soon pushed that thought away.

“I’m really happy to hear that, Emma, and I must say that it’s about bloody time!” he blurted, his eyes sparkling with happiness.

It was her turn to be stunned. “Wha-...does that mean that…that you…”

“I’m falling for you?” he said, completing her question. “I already did a long time ago.”

“Y-you did? But why didn’t you tell me?”

He nervously scratched behind his ear. “I didn’t think you were ready to hear it and I was afraid my confession would drive you away.”

“That’s why I was hesitant to tell you, too.” She paused and squinted at him. “You said a long time ago. Just how long?”

“Remember that day in August when you talked me into going to the beach with you? I was so self-conscious about taking my prosthesis off and letting you see my stump, but you grabbed me by the wrist to lead me out to the water like it didn’t bother you at all.”

“Of course it doesn’t. I’m a fan of every part of you, Killian,” she said, reaching out to take his prosthesis in her hand. “That was a long time ago. You kept your feelings hidden really well.”

“It wasn’t easy, but now,” he said, moving closer to her on the couch, “I don’t have to hide them anymore."

“No, you don’t,” she agreed, moving easily into his arms and peering up into his face; the look of pure adoration he wore melting her heart, while at the same time, making it beat faster.

Without a doubt, she knew she made the right decision.

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

It has to be a dream, Killian’s mind was telling him. Emma just confessed having romantic feelings for him and now she was in his arms, looking for all the world like she wanted to kiss him. This couldn’t really be happening, could it?

There’s only one way to find out, he reasoned. Closing the distance between them, he brushed his lips against hers, then pulled back enough to see her chasing after him, clearly wanting more. Who was he to deny her?

The moment their lips connected in a deeper kiss, the sparks flew. What he had been thinking for months was confirmed; he truly was in love with Emma Swan.

He would have happily continued kissing her for the rest of the night (or of his life), but a need for oxygen superseded his plans. Slowly opening his eyes, he took in the look of complete bliss on her face. “Emma?” he whispered.

When her beautiful green eyes blinked open, he saw the same happiness he was feeling reflected in them. “Yeah?” she breathed.

“I’m way past falling for you. I’m in love with you.”

It was his turn to hold his breath as he waited for her response, but not for long. Immediately, she surged forward to kiss him again. Then, as her fingers played with the hair at the nape of his neck, she replied, “Good, because I love you, too.”

Another breathtaking round of making out followed their declarations. Since neither of them was ready to let go of the other yet, they stretched out side-by-side on the couch, cuddling and kissing under a fleece blanket, while listening to Christmas music set to a crackling fire video on TV.

Soon, they were asleep in the arms of the person they loved. When Killian woke up In the morning with a crick in his neck from sleeping in an awkward position, he considered it well worth the pain.

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

Emma sat in the church on Christmas Eve, listening to Killian sing a solo of ‘O Holy Night’. It had been a year since she declared her love for him and a lot had happened since then, not the least of which was him asking her to marry him.

When he hit the high note towards the end of the song, Emma felt the now familiar tingle run down her spine. She was sure his smooth, mellow voice would always have that effect on her. As the final notes of the song faded away, she met his eyes and knew he would see all of the love and pride shining in her own, even in the dimly lit sanctuary.

He rejoined her in the pew and she entwined their fingers, then leaned in to whisper, “It was absolutely perfect, my love.”

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

A year ago, Killian didn’t want to sing loud enough for other people to hear; he never would have been brave enough to sing a solo in front of the whole congregation. Having Emma’s love changed that, along with so many other things in his life.

One thing that hadn’t changed was the fact that Emma is his best friend and soulmate. Having so few friends growing up, he cherished having someone with whom he could share everything. She is always there for him - listening, discussing, and cheering him on. Proposing to her was the easiest decision in the world.

It was her idea for him to sing a solo for the Christmas Eve service. As he prepared for it, he once again asked himself how she talked him into it, but the answer was the same as it was last year, when he made the momentous decision to go Christmas caroling.

He was utterly and completely in love with Emma Swan.

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

Wishing all of you a very Merry Christmas and a New Year that hopefully has lots of new Captain Swan content!

Tagging: @hookedmom @kmomof4 @cs-rylie @qualitycoffeethings @grimmswan @wyntereyez @the-darkdragonfly @ultraluckycatnd @paradiselady19 @xarandomdreamx @motherkatereloyshipper @julesep3026 @courtorderedcake @lfh1226-linda @pawshapedheart @vampcoffeegyrl23 @tiganasummertree @captainswan4life85 @bluewildcatfanatic @eleveneitherway @elfiola @kday426 @julieenchanted-swans @gingerchangeling @andiirivera @djlbg @jonesfandomfanatic @snowbellewells @huntressandlioness1 @anmylica @booksteaandtoomuchtv @pirateherokillian @cocohook38 @ilovemesomekillianjones @laschatzi @zaharadessert @jennjenn615 @yasbio2015 @lyssapup27 @nachocheese-itsmycheese @singersdd @mie779 @undercaffinatednightmare @winterbaby89 @xsajx @jackieorioncat @teamhook @bdevereaux-blanche @soniccat @searchingwardrobes @jarienn972 @apiratewhopines @softkilly @goforlaunchcee @kymbersmith-90 @captainswan217-blog

#csff #CS Christmas #CS modern AU #Hitting a High Note #jrob64 #art by jrob64 #cs fanfic #Christmas fluff #Christmas caroling #friends to lovers

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booksteaandtoomuchtv · 11 months ago

Text

Weekend Getaway (1/3)

AO3 | 2 | 3

RATING: M

SUMMARY: When Emma's roommate drags her to get a live Christmas Tree, she ends up trapped at a Christmas Village for the weekend. Fortunately, the village had a bar and a bartender that Emma wants to get to know better.

Tagging: @anmylica, @deckerstarblanche, @elfiola, @goforlaunchcee, @jrob64, @kmomof4, @pirateswhore, @stahlop, @teamhook, @tiganasummertree, @undercaffinatednightmare, @xarandomdreamx, @zaharadessert - DM me if you would like to be added/removed from the list.

"You're coming with me," Ruby announced as she banged into the flat. The front door crashed against the wall before closing behind her. Wearing a red knit sweater with a Christmas tree on it that actually lit up and arms heavily laden with shopping bags, she was the bright spot - literally - of Christmas Cheer that Emma was certain she did not order.

It wasn’t that Emma hated Christmas or anything quite so dramatic. But if given the opportunity to skip directly to New Year’s Eve after Halloween, she would happily accept. There was no escaping how dreadfully lonely her life had become since she’d driven away from Storybrooke after - Nope, not going there.

"We are getting a live tree this year! Get your jacket, let's go." Ruby continued, not waiting for Emma to acknowledge her.

"Those are fire hazards. Plus, where would we put it?" Emma gestured at their tiny, crowded living space.

Ruby grunted as she deposited the bags on the nearest chair. She grabbed Emma's boots and threw them at her, "Put 'em on."

Scowling and grumbling, she clicked off the TV and shoved her feet into her boots.

It was impossible to deny Ruby anything. They came to the city together a few years ago to get over their broken hearts and discover a life outside of their small town. They'd helped nurse each other through the heartbreaks, acted as both wing-woman and excuse for one another - depending on what the night demanded, and endured the challenges of being artists in a big city together. Ruby had landed a part on an off-broadway play and Emma was in her second season at the New York City Ballet. It took several failed auditions, many pints of ice cream, and the constant support from one another to get them this far.

"Let's burn down the building then."

"That's the spirit!"

§§§§ §§§§ §§§§ §§§§

They drove for hours, leaving the city behind for the snow-covered, rolling hills of the upstate. While singing and dancing to old favourite songs, they passed several signs advertising various Christmas tree farms. Ruby would shake her head and drive by them. After the tenth one, Emma finally asked where they were going. “I found the perfect farm online.”

At Emma’s sceptical look, Ruby continued, “I promise, there is something special about the one we are going to," Ruby explained. "I can just feel it, you know?"

Emma released a resigned sigh. Ruby was impulsive and spiritual, believing her intuition was a powerful force that should not be ignored. Emma needed something a bit more concrete to guide her decisions.

Ruby slowed at a lane that was much like any other they had passed all day, except this one sported a faded red pickup truck with rounded fenders that was wrapped in fat, colourful light bulbs. A hand-painted sign welcomed guests to the Jones' Christmas Tree Farm for sleigh rides, hot cidre, hot chocolate, and to cut and carry home their very own tree from its stand on the stained wooden slats in the bed of the truck.

As they bounced along the uneven lane, Ruby cleared her throat. “Don’t kill me…”

“No promises.” Emma tore her attention from the endless rows of firs and spruces lined outside her window to glare at her old friend. The ice in that glare would have stopped the hearts of mere mortals. But, this was no mere mortal. This was Ruby Lucas and nothing could hinder Ruby’s excitement once it gained momentum.

Ruby smiled brightly at Emma and pulled a duffle bag from behind Emma’s seat. “I booked a cabin for us for the weekend. We were just saying that we needed a little break and they had so many fun things and, wait until you see the farm, it is beautiful!”

Emma had planned to set up a station on her couch and binge-watch garbage telly. Not spend a weekend on a farm, much less a farm that would doubtlessly be filled with families and couples buying trees the entire time. This was definitely worse than the countless movies featuring smiling men and women in red or green sweaters in front of a highly decorated tree that were beginning to populate every channel she surfed, right? Yes, she decided, it was. Ruby had driven her directly into the ridiculous small town that featured in the background of one of those ridiculous movies and was making them stay for the entire weekend. This was not what she had in mind when they were talking about their holiday. Sun, sand, and sangrias had featured in her dreams. Not snow, cidre, and Santa.

“They’d better have hard cidre or spiked egg nog,” Emma muttered.

“Like I would spend a sober weekend in a cabin on a farm!” Ruby shot Emma a wounded look.

Emma snorted and shook her head. “Well, that’s something, at least.”

“Oh, hush. This will be a weekend to remember.”

The lane opened up to reveal a stunning farmhouse with snowy Christmas trees in rows lining the hills sprawling in every direction. A red barn stood out brightly in stark contrast to the white landscape. It would have been breathtaking, Emma thought, if not for the Christmas Village that stood before the barn under twinkling fairy lights.

"Our cabin better be out of town."

"Well...it is close to the Holly Jolly Tavern, I think."

"RUBY!"

"I know how much you hate Christmas and we are changing that this year. Your heart will grow three sizes and Tiny Tim will live after all."

"Wait...am I the Grinch or Scrooge?"

"Yes." Ruby laughed, throwing the car in park. "I'll check us in, why don't you go find your Christmas spirit?" She mimed taking a shot before getting out of the car and walking toward the farmhouse, leaving Emma in the passenger seat of the old car, quickly growing cold, wondering why she allowed Ruby to pull her into these ridiculous situations in the first place.

§§§§ §§§§ §§§§ §§§§

The Holly Jolly Tavern was, thankfully, more Tavern than Holly Jolly. Sure, a decorated tree stood tall in the corner near the fire crackling in a large hearth and large multi-coloured bulbs were strung along the walls. And, of course, the drink specials had cutesy holiday names and instrumental Christmas songs played softly in the background. But, the bartenders weren’t dressed as elves or in tacky holiday sweaters and the tables and chairs were your standard sturdy wooden pairings found in drink establishments everywhere.

Emma sat at the long bar and scanned the wall of spirits trying to determine what best fit this situation.

“What can I get you, love?” The low voice was charmingly accented, and it sent chills down her back. She turned toward the bartender and met brilliant blue eyes that stilled her heart. He wore a crooked smile that made her think very dirty thoughts about his lips and the amber scruff framing the sharp line of his jaw.

“Whatever your favourite drink is,” Emma answered with a flirty smile. She thanked whatever gods were watching that her voice sounded steady, her mouth was suddenly so dry that she'd expected it to crack.

He nodded at her request and started pulling together ingredients for her drink. She watched him at his task, mesmerised by his movements and the way he focused so completely on his task. She wondered what it would be like to have that focus directed solely on her and her pleasure. She felt her cheeks heat at the thought and turned away in an attempt to hide it, but his eyes danced with mischievous humour as he handed over her drink, telling her that she was caught. Luckily, he was kind enough not to comment.

She studied the bright red drink, cranberries and mint floated in the glass, and a thin lime garnished the rim of the tall glass. It looked refreshing and exciting. She wondered if this was truly his favourite drink or a cocktail he had mixed for her using that special power great bartenders had - that uncanny ability to know exactly what a patron needed based on a single glance.

“A Cranberry Mojito,” he told her, leaning on the bar before her. Her eyes lingered on his well-defined arms and the unfair way they were stretching his deep blue knit sweater. “What brings you here, um?”

“Emma,” she answered for him, “And, oh, I don’t know. I guess that I have always dreamed of living in one of those ridiculous towns from those cheesy Christmas romances.”

“Pleasure, Emma. Killian,” he said in that musical voice. “I take it this trip wasn’t your idea, then?”

“Nope. My roommate surprised me as we were pulling in - Ohhh! This is good.”

He smiled in triumph at her approval. “The trick is making the simple syrup from scratch with fresh cranberries.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Emma said before taking another sip of the deliciously sweet and tart drink. “Is this truly your favourite drink?”

“Tonight, it is.”

“Your tastes change so often?” She teased, her eyebrow lifting to emphasise her innuendo.

“I’m not so fickle as that, love. I am partial to rum, but not so dull as to only take it one way.” Killian replied, meeting her gaze. The heat in the depths of his sapphire eyes made her stomach tighten in response. This man was too good to be anything but trouble.

Mmm, but it would be some good trouble.

“That looks fantastic! Can I get one, too?” Ruby’s voice shattered the tension building between them.

“Coming right up, love,” Killian answered immediately. His eyes lingered on Emma’s a moment longer before he turned to mix Ruby’s drink.

“It’s a Cranberry Mojito,” Emma explained, turning to look at Ruby. “Here, try some while you wait.”

Ruby’s eyes were wide and she was biting her lips together tightly to suppress what Emma knew to be a wolfish smile. Emma shook her head subtly, pleading with Ruby to not say a word. Ruby nodded excitedly at her in approval of whatever she had read into the exchange she interrupted earlier. Emma frantically shook her head - whatever you are thinking, stop thinking it!

When Killian returned, setting Ruby’s drink on the bar before her, Ruby pounced. “So, what is your name?”

“Killian,” he answered with amusement laced in the melody of his voice.

“And what does your girlfriend think of you making eyes with your patrons, Killian?”

Emma sputtered and coughed as she tried not to choke on the sip she’d taken before Ruby’s obvious question. Ruby turned to Emma, earnest concern etched on her face, while her eyes danced with humour, “Are you okay, Emma? Need some water?”

Narrowing her eyes at Ruby, Emma shook her head. Her breath was still taken by the liquid burning in her lungs. A few strangled coughs later, Emma ground out that she was just fine. Killian slid a glass of water to her anyway, the sweet gesture sinking Emma further into… well, whatever was happening between them.

“Good,” said Ruby briskly and she turned to Killian expectantly.

“I’m not a man to make eyes with someone while involved with another,” his accent clipping the words.

He hadn’t liked that accusation one bit. The realisation warmed Emma as much as the rum spreading in her blood. He wouldn’t cheat on her and leave her too embarrassed, too ashamed, to face the town she had lived in her entire life. He may be trouble, but he was honourable trouble and that she could handle.

“What kind of a man are you then, Killian?” Ruby asked. She sipped from her cocktail and pinned him with a look that dared him to rise to the bait.

“Don’t do that, Rubes,” Emma snapped. Her temper was rising - she felt the need to protect Killian from Ruby’s intrusive questions. Killian sent her a grateful look before excusing himself to serve a man flagging him down on the other end of the bar.

“Ooh, you like this one,” Ruby whispered far too loudly as she waggled her eyebrows ridiculously. Emma could not help but laugh and the strange frustration that had so quickly risen in her dispersed.

“No. I just thought that was unfair of you,” Emma said simply.

“Mmhmmm.”

Emma rolled her eyes at the disbelief in Ruby’s tone. “Fine. Think whatever you want.”

“I do and I will.”

“So, what is there to do in a Christmas Village?” Emma asked in a very smooth and effortless transition from the previous topic.

Ruby perked up and started rattling off various activities that she had booked or seen on her walk over to the pub. Emma listened half-heartedly - her attention straying to the barkeep continuously. She caught him looking her way once and he sent her a devastating smile before returning to his work.

He served them several more rounds as the night grew older, but he was unable to linger longer than getting their order or setting down their drinks as the Holly Jolly Tavern stayed busy once the sun went down.

When they left, staggering into the night, Emma felt a twinge of disappointment that he hadn’t seemed to notice her exit.

Would it have been too much to ask for him to come out running to see her home safe like some Victorian gentleman? She snorted at that very drunk, very ridiculous thought and followed Ruby to the cabin she would call home for the next few days.

#emma swan #killian jones #captain swan #captain swan au #cs au ff #cs ff #cs christmas #cs fanfic #killian x emma #there will be fluff #there will be smut #there will be a happy ending #fic by Jas

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donteattheappleshook · 2 years ago

Text

Barefoot in the wildest winter... a captain swan Christmas AU

Summary:

She wasn’t supposed to come back. It had been a stupid plan, thinking she could get in and out of Storybrooke without anyone knowing she was here. Just catch the skip, bring him in and go back to Boston without her brother finding out that she’d lied about not being able to come home for Christmas like she did every year. There’s some kind of cosmic joke being made at her expense. There has to be for this day and this storm to have led her here of all places, on tonight of all nights.The walk to the building feels all too familiar and she struggles to push back the memories of the last time she was here as she works up the nerve to make her way up the stairs, to knock on the door. There’s still time to run. “Swan?” “Hey, Killian.”

Rated M (E?)

Merry Christmas @killiansprincss ! It’s me, not the problem this time but your Secret Santa 🎅

I’ve SO enjoyed getting to know you over the last few weeks and getting to talk CS, Christmas and Taylor Swift! 🥰

I hope you like this little story I’ve written you for the @cssecretsanta2020 I tried to fit in as many of your favorites as I could: soft Killian, forced proximity/only one bed, fluff/smut/angst (with a happy ending of course), and a little nod to some favorite holiday movies, a splash of favorite side characters and scenes, and (obviously) a little inspiration from the queen of love songs herself

And a hundred thousand million thank yous to @the-darkdragonfly who saved this fic when it went off the rails and made it not terrible <3 It never would have come together without you holding my hand through all of it.

Read on Ao3 were my italics work!

❄️❄️❄️

It’s not that bad.

It’s just a little snow.

The Bug is reliable and she’s got winter tires.

She’ll be fine.

Shit, she just missed her turn. They need more street lights around here - the snow covering the signs doesn’t help either. She ducks her head, trying to see better, looking for any landmarks she recognizes. Emma thought she knew Storybrooke off by heart, but it seems a decade away has left some of her recollection hazy.

The snow had come out of nowhere, blanketing the ground in the amount of time it took her to walk in and out of the Sheriff’s station, the flurries massive and wet as they hit her windshield. What little light her headlights manage to shine through the dark is blinded by angry streams of flakes, falling furiously against them in the harsh wind, the consistent rattling noise unnerving.

She used to wish for winters like this, town blanketed in snowfall, schools closed and days spent hiding out with friends. ‘Here.’ A gift pushed awkwardly into her hand, an embarrassed smile, flakes swirling around a little version of the town they both lived in. ‘Now you’ll always have snow.’ Now she just needs to get away. The magic is gone. No more dreams of white Christmases.

She can see the water - she thinks - to her left. There’s a road along the shore, one that leads out of town in a more round-about way, and so she makes the next left turn she can, weaving through the narrow, empty streets until she finds herself on Misthaven road with a triumphant cheer. Okay. She’s got this. This way leads right out of town and towards he highway and she can -

Emma slams her foot down on the break, eyes suddenly reflecting bright in her headlights and the car swerves on the slick ground. She doesn’t have time to see what it was, cursing as the bug swings frantically from side to side, fighting with the wheel to get it back under control as it skids towards the ditch piled high with snow. But there’s no stopping it.

The impact is jarring, her whole body rocking forward with the force of the sudden stop. She grips the wheel, heart racing as she puts her head down against it to take a breath. You’re okay. It could have been a lot worse, she rationalizes when she looks up to find her windshield and front windows completely clouded in white. She could have hit the water.

She manages to get her seatbelt off, falling forward into the dashboard with a grunt. The door won’t budge when she tries it, the snow packed tightly on either side, so she pulls out her phone to call for help. She finds it on the floor instead, screen shattered and ominously black. Of course.

Climbing through the car, over the back seats to the trunk, she manages to pop it open and heave herself out. Emma looks back at her little bug as she sits on the bumper, uses it to step back onto the road. I’m sorry, I’ll come back for you. She just needs to find a phone. Do payphones still exist? This town has been stuck in the 90s for decades. Or someone has to come by eventually, a snow plow, another person as determined to get out of here as she is…

Her coat isn’t warm enough, arms wrapped around herself as her hair, freezing in icy tendrils, whips across her face as she struggles to keep her eyes open against the onslaught of wet snow. Where are you? No answer comes, her memories of this road too hazy to see through the storm. So she walks, picking a direction rather than standing and losing extremities one by one.

She wasn’t supposed to be here. She was never supposed to come back here at all. She should have ignored the call, let someone else take the bounty on the skip that had decided to go hide out in her hometown, a place she’s managed to avoid for over a decade now. She’d gotten out, run as far and fast as she could, hurt one too many times by this cursed little town where all her happy endings were taken from her.

Christmas morning, the day after her first and only boyfriend had dumped her - the last in a long line to leave her behind in Storybrooke - because he ‘wanted to see what was out there’, she’d taken a train to Boston and never looked back. She wasn’t supposed to come back.

It had been a stupid plan, thinking she could get in and out of Storybrooke without anyone knowing she was here. Just catch the skip, bring him in and go back to Boston without her brother ever finding that she’d lied about not being able to come home for Christmas like she did every year. And yet here she is, wandering the streets of Storybrooke on Christmas Eve, lost and alone.

She’s not sure how far she’s gone when she sees the water, a clearing in the trees, a straight shot to the beach. The waves bring memories with them as they crash against the shore, the sea always refusing to be frozen by the harshest of colds. There’s a metaphor in there somewhere. Arms wrapped solidly around her, a hand taking hers, ‘come with me,’ sitting in the cold sand throwing rocks at the waves with his hands on her ears, ‘they’re going to fall off, Killian,’ and her heart on her sleeve.

Emma looks up at the building across the street. If she squints she thinks can see a light on. There’s some kind of cosmic joke being made at her expense. There has to be for this day and this storm to have led her here of all places, on tonight of all nights. She still has a snowglobe on her mantle, a gift given to her by a boy she’d spent most of high school infatuated with, and the years after navigating an ineffable friendship.

How long has it been since she’s seen him? Not since that morning she left, the one where everything had almost changed. It did, she supposes, but not the way she’d been so suddenly terrified it could in those few breaths between a question and a goodbye. He may not even live there anymore. She knows he’s still in town from what David’s told her and the occasional social media stalking, but that’s about all she knows about him now.

It’s your best bet. At least whoever’s there might have a phone she can use, know a tow that she can call to get her bug back on the road and her on her way back to Boston. The walk to the building feels all too familiar and she struggles to push back the memories of the last time she was here as she works up the nerve to make her way up the stairs. Still, her heart pounds in her chest and her stomach tightens reflexively when she knocks on the door. There’s still time to run.

“Swan?”

“Hey, Killian.”

***

They were at the Christmas market, Emma grumbling to Ruby about the fact that there hadn’t been any snow that year as they picked through a pile of novelty keychains. “It just doesn’t feel like Christmas without it.” She picked up a little skull and crossbones, holding it up for her friend’s appraisal.

David called them over, offering to buy everyone hot chocolate, all thoughts of shopping abandoned - “Who would you even get that for?” “I don’t know.” She just thought it was cool. This was the first time she had her own set of keys to a front door. It slipped so easily into her pocket, a habit picked up between foster homes. Take whatever you can get your hands on. You might not get the chance again.

“Hey, Swan.” Only one person called her that, whispered too low for anyone else to hear. “Nicely done.” Killian smirked at her, nodded toward her pocket, eyebrow raised.

Crap. “You’re not going to tell David, are you?” She couldn’t lose this one too.

“Why would I do that?” Thank god. His face softened. “It takes a while.”

“What does?”

“To stop feeling like you have to.” Something passed between them then, an understanding. David had said they had a lot in common. “Here.” He put something in her hand, smile awkward, cheeks red. A snow globe, one of the ones Ingrid from the ice cream shop made, a vague rendition of Storybrooke in the center. “You’re right about Christmas.” He touched a finger to the back of his ear. “Now you’ll always have snow.”

“Did you steal this?”

His laugh was loud. She liked it. “No. It’s a gift.”

She smiled at it, face flushing furiously - a gift from David’s new friend, the nice one with the pretty eyes who smiled a lot. Shaking it a few times to make the little flecks of white dance around her currently green town, Emma looked up at him, lip catching between her teeth. “I love it.”

“Here.” She reached into her pocket, pulling out the stolen keychain, wanting to be able to give him something in return.

His slow smile sent something twisting in her stomach, mischievous, like they had a secret. “Your loot, Swan? I’m honoured.”

“Well if you don’t want it -”

“No, I do,” he said quickly, grabbing it before she could take it back, ears red, running his thumb over the little skull. “Thank you. I’ll treasure it always.” Idiot.

***

He’s staring at her, like he can’t quite decide if she’s real, a literal ghost from his past appearing on his doorstep after a decade without a word. He looks good. She knew he would - he always had. But the last time she saw him he was twenty-two and the years have been unfairly kind to him. He’s grown a beard, a ginger scruff that covers his cheeks, both them and his ears reddened by the cold like he’s just come inside.

She shifts uncomfortably as the silence drags on and he continues to stare, brow pulling down in confusion. “What are you doing here?”

She’s not sure if he means the literal here at his door, or here in Storybrooke, or here suddenly in his life again, so she answers all three. “I ran my car off the road a little ways up the street. I was hoping you might have a phone.” She holds hers out. “Mine didn’t survive.”

“You what?”

“There was a deer or something… Can I come in?”

Killian blinks at her, finally registering her question, her answer to his. “Aye,” he says, stepping back to let her pass. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, just, you know, cold. And stuck.”

It’s different. The first thing she’s come back to in this town that isn’t exactly the way she left it. The large, single room is furnished in old wood and leather, the heavy curtains along windows keeping out the fury of the storm. There’s art on the walls. When she’d been here last it had belonged to a guy in his twenties: second hand couch, posters of bands and movies tacked up with push pins.

She looks over towards the back of the apartment, the bed in the same place it had always been but new. She let out a squeal falling onto the mattress, the distance further than she expected. Laughing, ‘you need a bed frame.’ A rushed promise, ‘I’ll go to Ikea in the morning.’ Better not to pay attention to that.

“Are you hurt?”

She shakes her head. “Just need a tow.”

“Do you want a towel?” She thinks she needs to answer yes to one of his questions or he might not stop asking them. Her hair is soaked, snow melting in her lashes, probably smudging mascara down her cheeks.

“Sure, thanks.” She kicks off her boots. Her socks make an unpleasant, wet sound when she sets her feet on the hardwood, damp fabric squishing between her toes and she makes a face at them.

Killian notices. “Do you want to borrow a pair of mine?” More questions.

She shakes her head, “No, I’m fine,” quickly pulling them off and draping them over her boots. She won’t be here long.

“Cell service is down, but you can use the landline,” he offers, nodding towards the phone in the kitchen.

“You have a landline?” she smirks before catching herself. But he sees it, his shoulders relaxing a little.

“Comes in pretty handy when we lose power.” There’s just a ghost of that cheeky smile she remembers as she pads barefoot across his apartment, too modest to be smug but close.

“Fair point.” She stares at the thing. Oh, right. “Do you have a number for a mechanic?”

He hurries over to join her in the kitchen, searching through a drawer until he pulls out a business card. “Here.” Gus’s Auto Repair.

Gus can’t come get her car out until tomorrow. “Got to be on standby for emergencies and since you’re clearly somewhere safe and not stranded on the side of the road freezing to death -”

“I don’t count. Got it.”

Perfect. Could also have done without the somewhat patronizing comment that she shouldn’t be out driving in a blizzard.

Killian’s waiting for her to fill him in when she hangs up, handing over the promised towel. “Looks like I’m stuck,” she tells him, wringing her hair out.

“Sorry, love,” he sighs. “I’m sure you had people waiting on you to get home for Christmas. Do you want to call anyone? Let them know you’re okay? Make as many calls as you need.”

She almost debates lying, pretending that yes, there is someone at home waiting for her to get back, having a fake conversation with her own answering machine rather than admitting the slightly pathetic truth. “No, it’s okay. It was just going to be me this year.”

She’s gotten used to being on her own though. She did it for a long time before she’d ever had any family to spend the holiday with. She’d started out alone, after all, found just outside the town line, a few hours old, abandoned and wrapped in a blanket with her name on it, a small suggestion that maybe someone had loved her at one point. But nobody had come forward.

There had been a series of foster homes after that, none sticking, in and out of Storybrooke for the entirety of her childhood. She’d had one good year, the Sheriff taking her home for Christmas, no social worker around when the latest family left her at the station. She’d always liked him, the kind man with the beard and the funny accent who let her hold his badge and chase him around the station.

But when he’d died it had been a series of foster homes again until she’d met David in high school. Older enough and big enough to scare off bullies, he’d brought her home for dinner until his mother decided she should stay. And Emma had stayed, until David got married and moved out, until Ruth passed away shortly after, and then it was just her again, alone in Boston celebrating Christmas, eggnog and a plastic tree.

Neither of them say anything for a moment, her last comment hanging between them until he finally breaks the silence. “I was going to warm some cider. Would you like some?”

“You got anything stronger?”

“It’s mostly rum.”

“Then yes.”

She takes a moment to wander the apartment rather than standing awkwardly in the kitchen with him, tracing her fingers along the back of the old leather couch with heavy blankets draped over it. She tries to reconcile her memories of the twenty-two year old she knew and this man he’s become. And while they don’t quite fit, they make sense. He’d always been this way, warm, inviting, comforting.

“Nice place,” she says as casually as possible, as though she’s never stepped foot in this room before. He’s put up Christmas decorations, lights and pine branches, little wooden trees and reindeer sculptures. Emma looks over at the massive fir in the corner. “Your tree doesn’t have any decorations on it,” she tells him absentmindedly, because focusing on that is much easier than focusing on how familiar and comfortable the place feels.

“Aye, we’re decorating it tomorrow,” he explains, scratching behind his ear in the same way he always did when he was nervous. It’s nice to know she’s not the only one. “Your brother and Mary Margaret are coming for dinner.”

She takes a seat on the sofa, pulling her legs up and wrapping her arms around her knees, bare toes curling over the edge of the cushion as she tries to figure out what to do next. Right, she’s stuck in Storybrooke for the night. “Sounds fun.” The words fall flat.

He hums, then stops what he’s doing, deep breath, hands gripping the edge of the counter, bracing himself for whatever’s about to come. “Why are you here, Emma?” The question is hard, she can tell, his jaw clenching and shoulders tight.

“In Storybrooke?”

“For starters, yes.”

“I was chasing a skip,” she sighs. “He was hiding out here and I thought I could catch him, collect the bounty and be back in Boston before the end of the night.”

“It’s Christmas.”

“I didn’t really have any other plans...”

“What about David and Mary Margaret? Do they know you’re in town?”

“No. And I don’t want them to. I said I couldn’t come - it would just hurt their feelings if they found out.”

“And that’s it?”

“What’s it?”

“The only reason you’re in Storybrooke.” She nods, wrapping her hands around her cold toes, resting her chin on her knee, his gaze hot on her, reading her in that way he’d always been able to. “Alright.” He brings over a steaming mug, sets it down on the table in front of her. “So what now?”

“I haven’t gotten that far yet,” she winces.

“Just stay here, love,” he sighs, like his offer is an apology. “It’s hell out there. I’ll take the couch for the night. It’s better than freezing to death in your car,” he adds when she doesn’t answer right away. Emma bites her lip. She’d been considering it - he knows her too well. Killian raises an eyebrow. “I’m going to try not to take offence to you deciding which is actually worse,” he tells her and a smile tugs at the corner of her lips.

“Okay.” Her voice is quiet, her answer also an apology, for disappearing from his life without a word, for bursting back into it without explanation. “Thanks.”

“Good,” he says, then breathes, “bloody ghost of Christmas past,” into his mug.

Emma takes a sip of her cider, immediately coughing when the burn of spiced rum hits her throat. “Holy shit, you weren’t kidding,” she coughs again and he smirks, taking a more dignified drink of his own. “Listen, I appreciate you letting me stay here and not freeze to death or whatever,” she tells him when he takes a seat next to her on the couch, leaving as much space between them as possible. “But I don’t want to ruin your night if you have plans…”

“Nothing important.”

“What were they?” She’s horrible, doing this to him twice.

He shrugs. “I usually spend Christmas Eve on my own before the big hoorah tomorrow. Drink spiked cider, watch a Christmas movie… I usually take a walk along the coast first but, well, between the storm and you showing up here like the Little Match Girl, I think I’ll skip that part this year.” He smiles crookedly at her, the same way he had another Christmas Eve so long ago. And her heart gives a little lurch as the memories come flooding back.

***

Maybe she was being irrational, maybe she was overreacting; people broke up all the time. But it was the coldness in his tone as he did it, the dismissal, like he never actually cared at all, like she was a placeholder until he could go and find something better that made it hurt so much.

She was already outside, having left Neal’s place as quickly as she could, already halfway down the road, halfway towards god-knows-where before she even realized that it was snowing, that it was cold. But it wasn't like she could bring herself to go back. She couldn’t go home either. Not to that house where Ruth would have been only a year ago, would have known what to say and what to do to make everything better - that house where it was just her now.

He’d just ended it. Just like that. As though they hadn’t spent almost a year together, as though they didn’t have plans to go to Boston in the morning for a little Christmas holiday. As though they didn’t already have tickets. He ‘wanted to see what else was out there’. She knew what he meant but didn’t say. He wanted to see who else was out there.

She was stranded. Stuck on a windy road in this horrible town with nowhere to go, nobody to call. Everyone was gone or celebrating with their loved ones. She was running out of those. She knew there was really only one person she could call - one person who would pick up and come find her, regardless of the fact that she’d never actually called his number before.

Headlights shone down the winding road, the sound of a car slowing echoed on the quiet street. The engine turned off, the door slamming shut before footsteps crunched in the snow. “Swan?” Killian came running over. “Swan, what happened?” She hadn’t told him much on the phone, just asked if he could come, and he looked so worried now, so much like he actually cared, like she actually mattered, that it chipped away at the walls around her heart just enough that she couldn’t keep the hurt out anymore.

“I didn’t know who else to call.” The tears overwhelmed her and she let him pull her against his chest. Maybe it should have felt strange, but instead his arms felt solid around her. His fingers stroked through her hair the way Ruth used to and it was something she needed more desperately than she realized. All that soft affection that he always showed her, that she’d always held for her brother’s friend - the one who always smiled at her, always teased her, always cared - flooded her as she tightened her grip on his jacket.

“Are you okay?” Killian asked when she’d finally managed to stop crying, to pull her face from the collar of his shirt she’d definitely ruined. He wiped at her tear stained cheeks. “Do you need a ride somewhere?” he asked before cocking his head at her and raising a brow. “Or maybe for me to murder someone?” She snorted out a laugh, his smile relieved if still tentative.

“I’m fine… Neal and I just broke up.”

“I’m sorry,” he sighed, and then, “Would you like me to murder him?” She snorted another laugh. “I never liked the guy anyway. Wouldn’t be a big deal.”

“He’s not worth it.”

“Do you want me to take you home?”

“No, I’m sorry. Thanks for coming to get me, I just... I can’t face home right now.”

“It’s okay,” he promised. “I was on my way home. Do you want me to take you somewhere else? Granny’s maybe?”

“It’s almost midnight,” she pointed out. She couldn’t believe she called him this late - and on Christmas Eve. But she just… needed him. Nobody else would have been able to make her laugh just now.

“Right.”

“This is so stupid. I’m not even crying over him. I don’t know why I’m crying at all,” she insisted, rubbing harshly at her eyes in frustration. “I just - this town fucking sucks. I need to get out.” Her laugh was bitter. “Neal and I were supposed to go to Boston in the morning. We were gonna spend Christmas there together. I even have the stupid ticket.”

He considered her for a moment and she thought maybe he got it, the urge to escape for a little while, forever. He reached out and took her hand in his. “Come with me.”

They walked along the edge of the water, waves crashing against the shore, surface refusing to freeze despite the cold. Killian didn’t say anything, just kept her hand in his and led her further down the beach until he finally came to a stop, looking out at the sea. She followed his gaze.

“What are we doing?”

“Looking at the water.”

“Okay… Why?”

He huffed a laugh, sitting on the snow-covered sand. “I thought you might find it soothing.”

“It’s cold.”

“It is,” he agreed, nodding but not moving to get up. With a sigh she plopped down beside him, drawing her knees up to her chest and resting her chin on them. “I come here whenever I’m pissed off and need to get away,” he shrugged.

“You get pissed off?” She didn’t think she'd ever seen him lose his temper. He was always so calm, even when he had just as much reason as her to want to curse out the whole world. Killian smiled, picked up a rock and tossed it into the water. She did the same, and then did it again, the splash satisfying against the roar of the waves before it was swallowed up by the rest of the sea. She sighed, shutting her eyes and letting the sound of the water fill her ears and calm her anger, dull her hurt a little.

“You know this is still Storybrooke though, right?” she reminded him.

He shrugged. “Maybe. But the water always kind of feels like its own place, everywhere and nowhere all at once. It’s easier to imagine being somewhere else here.”

“Poetic,” she teased, turning back to watch the water a little longer, the waves pulling at something in her every time they slipped back from the shore, like they were trying to drag the words from her chest. “I feel like an idiot. I think I knew he wasn’t a nice guy, deep down.”

“You’re not an idiot, Swan. You fell in love. Happens to the best of us.”

“Maybe.” Was it love though? Or had she just clung onto someone in the hopes that she could make them stay, that they’d be the first not to disappear on her. “I think this town is cursed.”

He raised an eyebrow at that. “Cursed?”

Emma threw another rock into the ocean. She didn’t know how to explain it to him, something she’d started believing as a kid, when every family she found left her here alone, as everyone she cared about in this town was ripped from her one by one. It became a lot easier to try not to love them, to keep David and Ruby at arm’s length after Ruth died, to choose a guy she knew she couldn’t completely open her heart to. And to ignore the way she felt whenever she was around Killian, the pull and the longing, how easy and tempting it would be to just pour her whole heart out and trust him not to judge her, not to hurt her.

“Well,” he said, nudging her shoulder with his, smile crooked. “That’s one of the nice things about Christmas, magic in the air and all that. Probably enough to break a curse.”

It was so cheesy and she wished she could believe him, but years of heartbreak just made it impossible. Emma looked away from him, pulled her coat more tightly around herself, a shiver running through her and she changed the subject.

“Do all of your philosophical ideas involve Christmas and frozen beaches?” she asked, tucking her chin into the neck of her coat. “Because we probably could have looked at the water from inside. And then I might still be able to feel my ears.”

He laughed and she breathed a sigh of relief - he was gonna let her off the hook. He wasn’t going to make her talk about her stupid cursed life in this stupid cursed town because he got her. She didn’t need to explain it to him. She never did.

“Baby,” he teased.

“They’re going to fall off, Killian,” she insisted. “And it’ll be your fault.”

His hands came up to either side of her face, fingertips chilly but palms warm as they covered her ears and her heart stuttered in her chest.

“Better?”

She nodded, swallowed. Slowly, his amused smile slipped and she could tell he was trying to read her. Emma slipped her hand into one of his, holding them both against her cheek. She would blame the waves, drawing her stupid, battered heart out of her chest, or maybe the cold, urging her towards all of the warmth inside of him, but suddenly she was leaning across the space between them, pressing her lips to his.

Killian froze and she pulled back, panicked. Shit. Shit, she’d completely misread that. It was stupid and impulsive and now she’d probably ruined whatever it was they had, this little bit of good that she’d just tried to grab onto.

He didn’t let her go, pulled her back to him, mouth hot against hers, fingers sliding from her cheek to weave through her hair, the other curling around her waist. It should have felt strange, it was probably a mistake, but it was Killian, and this felt long overdue. So she let him pull her closer, let him hold her like he had on the side of the road and kiss her like he was trying to break whatever curse would eventually rip him away from her.

***

“Guess I kind of ruined your night alone.”

“I don’t mind the company,” he promises. “So long as you don’t comment on the movie.”

“Why would I - Oh, no.”

“Oh yes,” he beams, reaching for the remote. “Every Christmas Eve.”

Emma groans as the music starts, an English accent giving a monologue about airports and then the dreaded words flash on the screen. Love Actually. “This is literally the worst Christmas movie ever.”

“This is the best Christmas movie ever.”

She rolls her eyes but does her best not to say anything as the movie begins, Killian getting up at one point to make a bowl of popcorn - with Milk Duds mixed in so they get all melty. Her silence doesn’t last very long, the rum making her bolder, making her forget the awkwardness. She finally reaches her breaking point.

“This is so stupid. They can’t even understand each other. And they’re just saying the complete opposite thing the whole time.”

He looks over at her, exasperated, head rolling over the back of the couch. “People don’t have to be able to say they love someone out loud for it to be real.”

She doesn’t have an answer for that, staring at him for a moment before shutting her mouth and turning back to the movie. He has a talent for saying things without saying them. It’s only a few minutes before she can’t help herself again.

“Okay, but even you have to admit this one is terrible.”

“There’s… something romantic about loving someone from afar.” He’s not even buying it.

“Sure, but this is just stalking.”

“It’s just one story.”

“Out of a hundred other terrible stories. Like this girl. Just don’t pick up your phone and -”

“Swan, I will make you sleep in your car.”

“I just don’t get what the appeal of this movie is. Everyone makes such a big deal out of-” She’s interrupted by a handful of popcorn shoved into her mouth, Killian licking melted chocolate off his finger.

“There,” he says, pleased with himself. “Now if you promise to be quiet for the rest of the movie, we can watch Home Alone after, alright?”

Emma just stares at him, eyes wide in disbelief. He did not. When he looks up at her, back on his half of the couch but not quite as far away, a smirk starts to tug at his lips, stretching wide when she spits the popcorn out into her hand.

“You’ve got chocolate all over your face,” he tells her, barely holding back a laugh.

“Whose fault is that?” She drops the handful of mushy popcorn into her empty mug, wiping her palms on her jeans.

Chuckling he reaches out again, wiping his thumb over the corner of her mouth. “I’m sorry,” he says - he’s not - looking at her with very serious, and very insincere, apology.

His attention drops to her mouth, hand settling on her cheek, and traces his thumb along her bottom lip where she’s sure there’s more chocolate. But all she can focus on is how close he is and how much she wants to replace his thumb with his mouth and her breath hitches. ‘Are you sure?’ whispered between heated kisses, his name broken on her lips, her fingers desperately fisting in his hair, falling apart on his tongue, the heat of him inside her, gentle touches and praise breathed against skin as they came together again and again.

His eyes dart back up to hers and she wonders if he’s thinking the same thing as the amusement in his eyes fades and then she’s waiting for him to do something, even if they probably shouldn’t, even if she definitely shouldn’t.

But she doesn’t stop him when he pulls her mouth down to his, lips slanting across hers as he drags her closer. They knock over the bowl, popcorn scattering across the floor when she climbs into his lap, fingers digging into his hair, his digging into the skin at her hip as he presses himself against her, tongue seeking hers.

This is probably a bad idea. In fact it’s definitely a bad idea, because she’s been exactly here before and she knows how it ends. But his lips are on her neck, tracing the line of her jaw, and she lets out a small whimper, hips rolling over the hardness she can feel growing beneath her. He catches her mouth again with a growl, one she knows all too well, and his hand slips under her sweater, calloused palm rough against the skin of her back as he arches his hips up into her, hard and hot against her centre.

She wrenches her lips from his, her fingers finding the buttons of his shirt and hurrying to undo them. She lifts her eyes to his face, finds him watching her, his own gaze dark and heady, hesitates on the next button. “I’m going back to Boston in the morning.”

“I know.”

Her heart beats frantically against her ribcage, as she tries to read his expression beyond the obvious want and temptation. So long as they’re on the same page, she tells herself. That’s all that matters. This isn’t like last time.

***

They stumbled through the door, practically running from the beach, giggling like kids the whole way. He’d kissed her for ages out there by the water, until she told him she thought she would lose her fingers from the cold and suggested they go somewhere warmer.

Now that they were inside though - the apartment new, some of his things still in boxes on the floor - he hesitated. So she took his face in her hands like he’d done before and kissed him, feeling the doubt melt away as he wrapped her in his arms and pulled her close.

They fiddled with zippers of puffy coats, laughing as they unravelled too-long scarves, boots kicked off as they crossed the length of his apartment, Emma letting out a squeal when they fell onto the mattress, the distance further down than she’d expected.

“You need a bed frame,” she laughed, lip caught between her teeth.

“I’ll go to Ikea in the morning,” he promised, claiming it for himself, fingers going to her hair as he deepened the kiss.

It wasn’t what she expected. She’d never kissed anyone this long before, hadn’t ever taken things quite this slow. But he seemed content to continue kissing her for the rest of the night. When she arched up against him he sucked in a breath, pulling back to look at her, “Are you sure?”

There wasn’t any question, not for her. She kissed him again, clothes pulled off slowly, his mouth finding her neck, her stomach her breasts, hands hot on her skin, pulling her closer - always closer.

He asked again, settling between her legs, a kiss to her thigh - “This okay?” - words breathed hot against her center, waiting for her nod before putting his mouth on her. Killian took his time, finding what made her breath hitch, what made her cry out and what made her hips arch up desperately against his tongue, building her up slowly, bringing her over the edge and leaving her trembling.

She kept waiting for him to take what he wanted, to rut into her and find his release, surprised he’d waited this long already. Instead his lips mapped her skin, discovering places he hadn’t yet, drawing his tongue across her body like ink, leaving marks wherever he found a gasp or a sigh - a secret trail for him to follow, hidden from the rest of the world.

He traced the marks with his fingers, mouth falling over hers and they slipped between her thighs, leaving her writhing when he found that sensitive bundle of nerves. She fell apart again, fingers deep inside her, lips speaking praise against her skin until she was left a shaking, boneless mess.

“Gods you’re beautiful, Swan,” he breathed into her ear like a confession, one he’d held onto for a long time.

Emma snuck a hand between them, taking hold of him once more and canting her hips up until she felt him brush against her heat. His groan echoing hers as he slid in just the tiniest bit. “We can stop if you want.”

She shook her head, taking his face in her hands and meeting his lips in a messy kiss. “Please don’t,” she breathed into his mouth, fingers fisting too tightly in his hair.

He took her slowly, the same way he’d kissed her, the same way he’d done everything. She wasn’t used to slowly, to the way his lips kept finding her own, tracing along her neck, hand finding her breast and tongue rolling languidly over the sensitive peak as he moved inside her.

This wasn’t fucking, this was something she’d never done before, something tender and gentle. He made love to her, drawing out her pleasure, staving off his own until she was shaking, nails digging at his back, forehead pressed to hers as he brought them both over the edge.

He stole an exhausted, sated kiss from her lips before settling beside her, pulling her to him. Emma lay her head on his chest, tracing absentminded patterns through the small smattering of dark hair as she tried to school her breathing, to keep her eyes open.

His fingers ran over the length of her arm, turning every few minutes to press a kiss to the crown of her head. “Are you okay?” he asked.

She let out a low, lazy giggle. “How would I not be okay right now?”

“I’m sure this isn’t what you imagined when you asked me to pick you up tonight,” he sighed. He was berating himself. She could hear it in his voice, imagining himself a villain for coming to her rescue, for healing her heart just a little bit - and then making her come three fucking times.

Emma raised her head, meeting his self-conscious gaze and smiling softly. She leaned in, kissed him, relieved when he kissed her back, hand weaving through her hair again like maybe he was trying to keep her there a little longer. When she pulled away he gave her a crooked, hopeful little smile, only growing when she pressed her lips to his again, tasting it.

Tucking herself back against his chest, he curled his arm more tightly around her, fingers tickling along her spine. “Merry Christmas, Swan,” he whispered into her hair.

***

She kisses him again, finishing with the fastenings of his shirt and pushing it off his shoulders. He leans forward enough to shrug it off, not breaking the kiss except to pull her sweater over her head and then dragging her back to him as soon as she’s free of it.

Emma traces the line of his shoulders, over his chest and the hair that blankets it, nails scratching down his stomach, relishing in every inch of soft skin and hard muscle beneath her fingers. His mouth wanders the length of her neck again, tongue teasing the line of her collarbone and down through the valley between her breasts, leaving goosebumps and fire in his wake.

She gasps when he tugs one of the cups of her bra out of the way, taking her nipple between his teeth. She lets out a curse, back arching into him, hips grinding roughly against the outline of his cock through their jeans. Her fingers fist in his hair, holding him there as he licks and sucks at the sensitive peak.

His hands slide along the outside of her thighs, palming her ass and squeezing as he drags her slowly, firmly over his length before standing, taking her with him, legs wrapping instinctively around his waist. His mouth finds hers again as he walks them across the room to his bed, kneeling on the edge before dropping her onto the mattress.

His hands quickly find the waist of her jeans, tugging them open and Emma catches her laugh between her teeth as she helps him slide the tight denim past her ankles. He tosses them aside while she pulls the remaining fabric from her chest. Killian pauses, looking her over slowly and she does the same.

It’s really not fair how much better he looks after so much time - he was already handsome enough when he was young. Now the angle of his jaw is sharpened, his shoulders broader, the hair on his chest darker and thicker. Her tongue runs over her bottom lip wantonly before she tugs him back down to her.

He lowers himself between her open thighs, the scratch of his chest against her breasts and his beard against her neck making her writhe beneath him. Killian’s hand slides over her waist, down across her stomach before going in search of where she’s wet and aching for him.

“Fuck,” she breathes as his fingers tease their way between her legs, turning to hiss “yes” against his ear when he finds the sensitive bundle of nerves there, rolling it under his thumb.

“Tell me if you want this.” - making sure, always making sure - as he slides a finger inside her, adding a second and thrusting slowly, dragging against her walls in toe-curling torture. It takes her a moment to find her voice as he continues to fuck her with his hand, thumb and fingers working in a steady rhythm, a knot tightening in the pit of her stomach.

“God yes,” she tells him, remembering how good he felt inside of her, how full and perfect and right. She scrambles for the button of his jeans, popping it free and making quick work of the fly before sliding her hand inside. She finds his cock, hard and straining in her palm, and he lets out a choked moan when her fist tightens around him.

“Now?” he asks, voice strained, and she nods, not able to find her own with his fingers working her faster, the circles he presses into her clit holding her right on the cusp of her climax.

Her hands shove at the waist of his pants, using her feet to push them further down. He slides away from her, standing to kick them off, and she bites her lip, moaning at the sight of his length bobbing against his stomach. She hears his slightly desperate groan before he’s on her again, mouth claiming hers, hot and messy, tongue sliding past her lips and drawing a whine from her chest.

Taking himself in hand and lining his cock up with her entrance, he hesitates only until she cants her hips, trying to take him inside herself. Her hand finds his back, the other grabbing at his ass as she hooks a leg around his thigh and urges him forward.

They both cry out when he finally sheaths himself inside her, thrust rough, cock thick and long as he slides out slowly only to push back in hard, hips snapping against hers. God yes, she thinks as he fucks her. This is what she’d expected last time, the desperate race towards the edge, her whole body rocking every time he drives back into her, the roll of his hips powerful and so fucking good.

She starts to writhe beneath him, the knot coiling so tightly inside her that she can feel it about to snap. His lips are at her neck, his hand reaching for one of her breasts, palm rolling over her nipple and then pinching it between his fingers as he moves faster. Her nails dig into his sweat slicked back, cries growing louder and more frequent, his curses and praise spoken into her skin between the slide of his tongue and the scrape of his teeth until her back bows sharply, pleasure ripping through her as she comes apart around him.

Emma can feel him following after her, fucking into her at a frantic pace until his own release takes him and he goes stiff in her arms. He collapses on his back beside her, his breathing ragged as her own as they both lay there and wait for their hearts to stop racing and the sweat to cool on their skin.

Killian rolls onto his side, hand reaching for her, fingers spreading over her stomach just below her breast, different from the way he’d pulled her to him last time. His thumb traces absentmindedly along the underside of her breast and she knows they understand each other - or he understands her at least. A one time thing. She’s leaving in the morning.

Killian clears his throat, voice still raspy when he speaks. “Bloody hell, I didn’t know you hated the movie that much.”

She laughs, boneless, exhausted. “Anything to get out of watching it.”

He raises himself up a little, looking over towards the TV. “I don’t think it’s over yet, actually.” He raises a brow. “We could probably still catch the big finale.”

Emma groans, long and suffering. “Please no. I literally can’t think of a worse way to spend the night.”

“Oh?” he asks and she can tell just by his tone what he��s thinking, even before his arm snakes around her waist and he pulls her back to him, rolling and bracing himself above her. “What did you have in mind, then, love?” There’s that cheeky smile again.

His lips are already teasing, feather-light over the spot below her ear, grinding his hips suggestively against hers before she can answer. She’s tempted to let him continue, to let him make her fall apart again and again for the rest of the night. But, “I’m leaving in the morning.”

He nods, giving a nip to her jaw as he answers, “Aye, so you’ve said. Many times now.”

“So this - tonight - needs to be a one time thing.”

Killian pulls back, searching her face carefully. He brushes a piece of her hair behind her ear. “I know you’re not staying, Swan. I won’t ask you to.” Not again, lingers where the words stay unspoken. “This was all just a freak, horrible series of events brought on by bail skippers, snow storms and devilish good looks that landed you into my bed tonight. And in the morning you’ll be on your way back to Boston and I’ll be here trying not to replay everything in graphic detail while I sit next to your brother at Christmas dinner.”

“Ew,” she laughs, shoving at his shoulder.

“But it’s not morning yet,” he finishes, tongue tracing the inside of his lip, gaze fixed on her mouth, waiting. A one time thing for a second time. A bad idea, a dangerous one. A desire she’s going to give into again, one she’s not sure she’ll ever be able to resist. She’ll never stop wanting him, not so long as she stays here.

“No,” she says, sliding her fingers into his hair, tongue sneaking out to tease the seam of his lips. She’ll be gone tomorrow, tonight doesn’t matter. “It’s not.”

***

He’s already up when her alarm goes off in the morning, Emma blinking crankily against the light shining through the windows. It takes her a moment to remember where she is, wrapped up in the familiar spice of salt and leather that clings to the sheets and her pillow, skin bare against the warm blankets. He’s standing by the stove puttering around with something and she watches him for a minute. It’s strange, still being here. She’s not used to her one night stands lasting into the next day.

“Merry Christmas,” he greets when she’s pulled her clothes back on and padded into the kitchen. She manages to mutter. He hands her a slip of paper. “Gus called, said to give him a ring when you were up and he’d come by with the tow.”

“Thanks.”

“There’s coffee,” he tells her, gesturing towards a pot. Her second thank you is more enthusiastic and he laughs. “I know you wanted to get up and on the road as soon as possible.” Emma hums, pouring herself a cup and drinking deeply.

“Can I ask you something?” she ventures, thinking of returning to Boston, of leaving this town once and for all for the second time. He nods. “Why are you still in Storybrooke? I thought you’d have left a long time ago.”

Killian shrugs. “I thought about it a couple of times. It just never felt right. This was the first place that felt like home.” Emma plays her fingers over the rim of her mug, nodding like she understands. “I know that wasn’t the case for you.”

She hesitates, trying to figure out how to explain her complicated feelings about this town. “Storybrooke never felt like home to me,” she admits. “Graham’s place did for a while,” she shrugs. “But that didn’t last very long. Without him it was just a house. Ruth’s did too. But with her gone…”

Killian’s expression softens, sympathy without pity from someone who knows what it is to lose those you love. “It doesn’t feel like her anymore. And I love David but that home is his and Mary Margaret’s now and for me it’s just…” A house, too large and full of too much grief. “I always figured home was someplace I would miss when I left it. But they’re all just buildings,” she shrugs.

Killian nods, looking pensively into his cooling mug of coffee. “I suppose it’s not the places but the people in them that make it home,” he says, finally looking up at her, the only person in this town she’s ever really missed, and the silence hangs heavy between them.

She can’t read his expression, his eyes more guarded now than they used to be, his heart no longer on his sleeve like it had been when they were young. And she thinks that’s her fault. She cut him out of her life for a decade, of course he wouldn’t trust her like he used to. And yet here they are, right back where they were that morning.

She doesn’t know how he feels now, doesn’t know for certain how he felt about her then. But she does know how she felt, how seeing him again has brought back so many of those old feelings, ones she’d always hoped would fade with time, that she’d managed to ignore until now when they risk becoming fresh and raw once again.

And she worries… most of all she worries that if she lets them come flooding back - break through the wall she so carefully constructed around her twenty-one year old heart - that she’ll want to stay.

“Knock knock,” a voice calls, too cheery for the early hour. Killian turns panicked eyes on her.

“What is she doing here?” Emma hisses.

“I don’t know! They weren’t supposed to get here until tonight.”

“I hope you don’t mind,” Mary Margaret continues, already pushing her way inside. “The door was open and we thought with the storm you might need help getting things ready and -” She stops dead in her tracks, David nearly running into her before looking up and staring in shock at the sight of his sister.

“Emma?” Shit. Shit, shit, shit. “What are you doing here?”

“I thought you were in New York.”

“Um…” she hesitates, trying to come up with a story that won’t hurt their feelings - a reason to be in Storybrooke. “Surprise?”

The lie comes almost too easily, Emma and Killian exchanging guilty winces over her family’s shoulders. She meant to come down to surprise them. The storm got in the way and she had to crash at Killian’s for the night. Parts of it are true. It was all planned. She’s thrilled to be home for Christmas. Most of it isn’t.

“How long are you here for?”

“Just the day.” Her grimace is taken for guilt. She can’t spend another night here.

There’s lots to do - or so she’s told, more the type to order in when she hosts her family for the holiday - and they put her to work. ‘Don’t worry, Swan, you can do the easy bits.’ ‘I can cook!’ ‘Whatever you say.’

Her insistence backfires, gagging when they ask her to help prep the turkey, nearly losing a finger chopping vegetables - ‘Give me that,’ Killian takes it from her. ‘Who gave Emma a knife?’ ‘You should be really glad I don’t have one right now.’ - until she’s banished to cookie duty.

“Think you can manage icing without injury or illness?” Killian’s smirk is shit eating and she takes the sugar and milk from him.

“Is it supposed to be this runny?”

Once Mary Margaret has fixed the icing, she’s left with a piping bag and several tins of gingerbread. She’s halfway through, Killian’s hands on the back of her chair, looking over her shoulder at the little man she’s decorating.

“Did they send you here to check on me?”

“Just some run of the mill quality control.” She’d gotten bored a little while ago - ‘two eyes, three buttons and a smile, that’s all you need to do’ - deciding to get more creative. “What on earth are those supposed to be?” he asks, eyes wide as she traces icing in the shape she wants.

“A bow.”

“Swan.” He’s barely holding back his laughter, face red and she narrows her eyes at him. “Please don’t make me say it out loud.”

“What?” Emma looks down at her cookie, at the four others she’s already made - ‘they’re bows!’ - but the icing has spread, the wobbly squares at the top rounded, the two hanging ribbons melded into one. “Oh my God.”

His roar of laughter sends the others over, crowding around her horrible creation. Killian’s barely able to hold himself up anymore.

“Oh,” Mary Margaret says, trying her best when David loses his shit too. “Well, it’ll certainly be the most phallic gingerbread we’ve ever had.” Everyone’s laughing now.

“Got something on your mind, Emma?” her brother snorts and she shoves the cookie in her mouth, destroying - some of - the evidence. “Maybe you should help,” he tells his friend, returning to the kitchen.

“Aye, Swan,” his voice is low, whispered against her hair, breath ghosting over her neck, “got something on your mind?" She tries to hide the way her cheeks heat, goosebumps down her spine. She does now.

They make a pretty good team, Emma supplying the ideas while Killian does his best to execute them. The task quickly becomes a game of finding what she can stump him with. ‘Are you really gonna be smug about being good at icing cookies? That’s the bar you want to set?’ ‘I’m a man of many talents, love, some I’d be more than happy to remind you of.’ She gives up when he turns the chubby little cookie into a skeleton. “Fine, you win. I’m sure this skill will take you far in life.”

People start arriving sometime in the late afternoon, the apartment filled with the smells of Christmas dinner, every shelf of the oven and every burner on the stove in use - her skills in the kitchen finally appreciated when she made them all mac and cheese in the microwave for lunch. Every guest wears the same expression of shock at seeing her standing with the others.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Ruby demands, tactful as ever. Nice to see you too. Emma can tell by the look Ruby gives her that she doesn’t buy this being a planned surprise, but her friend pulls her into a hug regardless, a murmured promise that they’ll be talking about it more later whispered over her shoulder. When Granny asks why she didn’t stay at the inn, she repeats the story about the storm and the accident - ‘Where did you sleep?’ Ruby knows. ‘The couch.’ - and then quickly changes the subject.

Two waist-high heads of strawberry blonde curls come hair barreling through the apartment, Killian returning the identical little girls to their parents, one swinging from each of his arms.

“Girls, we’ve told you before,” Elsa scolds, “Uncle Killian is not a tree.”

“Aye, only his head is made of wood”’

“Is that the best you’ve got, brother?”

Emma watches them play, the girls infatuated with their uncle, smiling into the rim of her wineglass as they attempt to tackle him onto the couch only to be tossed onto the cushions over and over.

She’s caught, Killian looking over, eyes meeting hers, his own lips quirking up tentatively and she feels that same soft warmth from all those years ago spreading through her chest. She doesn’t know what it is, not exactly, but she knows that she’s missed that smile for the last ten years.

One of the twins hurls herself at his stomach sending him falling backwards with an ‘oof’ and Emma has to bite back her laugh, turning and pretending she’s been listening to the conversation when someone asks her a question.

Killian’s apartment is small packed in with what feels like half the town, and when it’s time for dinner everyone finds a spot to sit or stand, plates balanced in their laps or set down on a counter or an end table, whatever surface they can find. Emma manages to snag a spot on the couch, Granny and Elsa next to her, wrapped up in an intense conversation over the benefits of real versus plastic trees.

“How are you fairing?” He takes a seat on the arm of the sofa, one leg still on the ground, plate resting on his knee, and handing her a glass of wine.

“Much better now,” she beams, taking the drink from him. She’s never had so many conversations about her childhood in her life, everyone determined to reminisce about the way they used to spend Christmas, the dinners and the ice skating and the secret party that Ruby would always throw in the basement of the diner. ‘Turns out Granny knew all along.’ The old woman only shrugs, impish smile on her usually dour face.

Some of it hurts, remembering the mornings with Ruth, the presents and the hot chocolate - and the mornings where there were no trees, no presents, no smiling foster parents or siblings. She’d suppressed all of them for so long, determined to forget the way her happiest moments were taken away, forever tinged with sadness so that she’d forgotten how good they’d once been.

When David talked about the Christmas market they all used to hurry to, buying each other cheap gifts from the weird collection of crafts and things people found in their attics, she felt a twinge in her chest. A little snow globe pressed into her hand, red ears and cheeky smiles. A little skull and crossbones she’d taken because she thought she had to, then given away to the first person who ever really understood. She realizes that a part of her does miss it - the people, not the places, like he’d said.

“I’m sorry you got stuck here. I know it’s hardly how you wanted to spend your Christmas.”

“It could be worse,” she admits.

“Here, I saved you one.” Killian hands her a little gingerbread man from the corner of his plate.

“Awe, you’re giving me a little gingerbread dick?”

“It’s clearly a bow. Get your mind out of the gutter, love.”

They’re all decorating the tree - Killian’s nieces arguing over which would get to climb on his shoulders to put the star on top - when she sneaks off to the bathroom, the only place in this apartment with a door that closes.

She just needs a minute to herself, needs a second to reconcile her dislike of this place and the fact that she’s actually enjoying herself. It’s never been safe to let her guard down, but it just keeps slipping around him, and it’s getting harder and harder to put it back up. And she doesn’t know why - after all this time…

Something catches her eye when she looks in the mirror - ready to give herself a talking to, to remind herself why she has that guard at all - a piece of a chain hooked over the corner, the rest fallen behind the back of the frame.

It’s a necklace, long and worn, the silver tarnished from years of wear. A little skull and crossbones hangs from the end. He kept it. All these years. It slips into her pocket, as easily as it had that day at the market, another secret kept between them.

“Are you coming back with us?” David asks when everyone has started to make their way home, the hour late, the glasses empty.

“Actually, I think I’ll stay for a bit. My car is still here…” Emma looks from her brother to where Killian is clearing dishes, his eyes lifting to hers for only a second before dropping them quickly. She doesn’t say she needs to get going, can’t quite bring herself to - can’t quite bring herself to leave, to have this be their final goodbye. “If that’s okay?” His guard is slipping too. She can almost read him again when he nods, enough to know that he might not want her to leave just yet either.

They’re curled up by the fireplace, the dishes done and the room tidied. There’s only the two of them and the silence of the empty room, their voices sounding so much louder against it with everyone gone.

“Do you want to call Gus?” he asks, looking at the time after they’ve talked about the party, gossiped about all their friends. “If you want to get back to Boston tonight you probably shouldn’t wait much longer.”

Oh. “Right.” She tucks her hair self-consciously behind her ear, staring at the fire.

“Unless…”

She looks up. Unless? There’s no question posed, the sentence never finished. But neither moves for the phone. She can’t leave. Not without telling him. Not without knowing if it’s all in her head. Not when it means leaving him behind. Not again.

“Killian, I -” Just say it. “I’m sorry.”

His guard is back up, weak and struggling, but it’s there. “For what?”

“For how I left things - for how I left you.”

Warm fingers tracing over her skin, sitting on the edge of the mattress in the cool morning air, bare toes on the floor, always braced to run. ‘You know you could stay, if you wanted...’ Heart screaming to be heard, too terrified of what could happen if she stayed, if she let herself love him like she wanted to. An apologetic shrug, a glance over her shoulder, shirt pulled over her head, boots laced. ‘I already have the ticket.’

“You don’t have to apologize, love.” It slips again, a small sigh as he shakes his head. “You don’t owe me anything. It was one night, however I felt about it… whatever I might have wanted or hoped for was on me, not you.” But it wasn’t just one night, not really. She can’t make herself say the words. Felt, wanted, hoped, past tense. “I always wondered though.”

“Wondered what?”

He can’t look at her and it hurts. “If you left because of me. If you regretted it or if I did something.”

Her heart sinks. She was such an idiot. “Is that why you never called?”

“I was afraid you wouldn’t answer.”

“I never regretted you, only that that night made it so much harder to leave.”

“Why did you leave?”

“Because of you,” she says finally, the heartbreak clear on his face even as he nods in acceptance. “Remember how I told you I thought Storybrooke was cursed?” Another nod. “Almost everyone I’ve ever cared about in this town is gone - died here, left me here.” Her parents, the Swans, Graham, Ruth, Neal… “I had to leave. And I couldn’t ask you to come with me because -” Her hands shake, her biggest fears spoken out loud. “What if it wasn’t Storybrooke, what if it’s just me? What if I’m the one that’s cursed - to lose everyone I love… I couldn’t lose you too.” But she had, in a way that was so much worse in the end.

“Lose me?”

“I thought it was safer to stay away from you, from everyone I loved - for them… and for me. I know it doesn’t make any sense but I -” He puts a hand over hers, fingers twisting in her lap.

“No, it doesn’t. But I get it.”

She forces herself to look at him. It takes a while - to stop feeling like you have to. And she’s so sick of running. “I would take it back if I could.” She pulls the necklace from her pocket, slips it into his hand, his breath hitching. “Because the truth is…” Deep breath. “I miss you. So much, Killian.”

The silence stretches on too long, her whole world hanging on whatever he’s going to say next, his thumb tracing over the pendant. “Emma.” He hesitates again. Just say something. “I’ve thought about you every day since you left.” Something sparks in her chest, hope. “I think maybe I couldn’t leave,” his fist closes around the necklace, “because I was hoping you’d come back.”

His words are rushed, spoken in a breath before his hands are in her hair and he pulls her to him, his kiss long and deep and perfect. She missed this. She missed him. She tries to apologize again, ‘I’m sorry’ whispered against his lips, but he steals the words from her tongue. ‘Later. We can talk later.’

Later is good, later means after, later means this is more than just right now, more than just tonight. No more one time things - this is the third time, after all.

He lays her down in front of the fire, hands more cautious than they’d been last night, peeling the clothes from her body until she’s bare beneath him and he can find the map he drew so long ago, lips tracing the lines that have faded from her skin.

They make love like they had the first time, no desperate attempt to fuck away the feelings they couldn’t voice, no need to rush for fear they would run out of time. She presses all of her apologies into his body, feels the forgiveness in his touch, fingers tight in her hair when she takes him in her mouth and begins to learn him as well as he does her.

He breathes words that aren’t quite love but could be into the space between them, Emma rocking above him, hands on his chest, his at her hips, dragging him towards the edge with her. Sitting up and pulling her to him, skin pressed to skin, repeating the same words against her lips, against her neck and breasts, ‘I love you,’ spoken somewhere in the moments before they find release, neither sure who said it, only that it’s true as they fall apart, clinging to one another, no intention to let go.

“Does this mean you’re staying in Storybrooke?” he asks when they’re laying intertwined on his floor.

Emma lifts her head, resting her chin on his shoulder and giving a small, hopeful smile. “Do you want me to?”

“Aye, I do. But only if you want to stay.”

She presses a kiss to his chest, above the pendant that now hangs around his neck. “I want to stay with you,” she tells him quietly, heart still timid, unused to being seen. “No matter where that is.”

“There’s always Boston.”

“You’d come to Boston with me?”

He tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, thumb tracing along the length of her jaw, over her lips as he watches her with what she finally knows is love. “I’d have come with you to Boston ten years ago, Swan. All you had to do was ask.”

She kisses him then, her words not enough to do justice to the way his burn through her, fill her from the inside out. He rolls them, settling above her, beginning his exploration again, fingers and mouth finding her where she’s hot and desperate for him, driving her to the edge with careful strokes of his tongue and languid touches that leave her writhing and begging for more.

She comes apart at his hands once again, kisses trailed up her body before he claims her lips with his and pulls her into his side. Limbs tangled, skin warmed by the fire, her fingers trace patterns over his heart, patched up to match her own. ‘I could get used to celebrating Christmas like this.’ He presses a kiss to her temple, words breathed into her hair, ‘Then we will, love, every one.’

❄️❄️❄️

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

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#cs secret santa #captain swan #cs fanfic #cs christmas au #the ghost of bloody christmas past #only one bed #cs angst #cs smut #cs fluff #cs ff #ouat au

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snowbellewells · 2 years ago

Text

Self Promo Sunday: “Beautiful in the Broken Places”

~** MERRY CHRISTMAS AND HAPPY HOLIDAYS TO ALL MY LOVELY CS SHIPMATES!!! I AM SO GRATEFUL TO SHARE THE LOVE FOR OUR PIRATE AND PRINCESS, AND THE ENDURING FRIENDSHIP IT HAS BROUGHT US, WITH ALL OF YOU!!! **~

Summary: Christmas cookie baking leads to a tender family moment for Emma, Killian, and their rather wise little girl. ;)

Notes: This little Christmas story is full of cookies, cuddles, and CS future family fluff! It was originally a CS Secret Santa gift for @kitsunewingstar in 2018, and it takes place a few years after season six, sometime in the time after Henry leaves to find his own story during season seven, but instead takes place in the peaceful domesticity I hope Emma and Killian were able to enjoy back in Storybrooke as a married couple with a little one.

Also available on AO3 or ff.net if that is your preference...

Snowflakes drifted lightly on the crisp winter breeze outside the Swan-Jones home in Storybrooke, Maine, making the pale, grey day look as wintry and bright as it should a scant few hours before Christmas morning. The downy flecks of feathered white sifted to Earth, gradually covering the spacious yard leading all the way to their dock and stretch of the shore, much to the delight of Hope Swan-Jones, where she stood on the seat of a kitchen chair, braced lightly by her mother’s watchful hands, peering out the window toward the choppy waves with her little palms on the countertop for balance, looking out the window in awe at the bright, almost magical blanket on the ground, turning dry, wintry brown to startlingly beautiful white.

“Okay, Hopey,” Emma finally urged, trying to move on with their task before her husband got home for supper. A light chuckle crept into her voice as it often did at using her daughter’s self-chosen moniker. One that she could only imagine came from the little girl’s having an older brother whom she idolized named Henry, and two little friends - Thomas and Ashley’s second child Toby and Philip and Aurora’s little girl Mary - making her think her name should end in a ‘y’ too. Emma would have never imagined herself, even a mere five or six years ago, using cutesy nicknames with a second child of her own, puttering away in the kitchen so the place would smell of fresh-baked cookies for her husband’s return. After all the loneliness, pain and doubt of her early life, and the danger, trial and loss of her first few years as the Savior and lost princess when she and Killian’s story began, what she had before her seemed almost too happy and idyllic to be real. “Ready to get down now?” she asked again. “We’d better start icing these cookies if you want some ready for Papa when he gets home and to leave out for Santa tonight.”

“M’kay!” Hope chirped enthusiastically, jumping down from her perch to scamper over to the table once more, then crawling back up to sit when her mom moved the chair over into its original place, already bouncing excitedly in her seat as Emma came to sit beside her, patiently showing her how to slather the homemade mix of milk and powdered sugar white icing over cutout baked sleighs and bells, Christmas trees and stars, and gingerbread men and women. Emma iced with her for several minutes, affectionately amused at Hope’s focused concentration on the task until the oven timer went off, signaling that their final batch of the cookies were finished baking.

For several blissful minutes they worked happily together in the warm, cozy kitchen, mother and daughter content with the lights from their lit tree in the next room blinking in multicolored accompaniment from the hall and providing a festive glow, Emma’s iTunes playing an eclectic holiday mix as cheerful background, and the sweet scent of cookies baking indeed beginning to pervade the room and whole first floor. Even as she began to move cookies from the baking sheet to the wax paper on the counter to cool, Emma kept an eye on Hope so she wouldn’t wiggle from her seat in her enthusiasm and end up falling. Once again she bit back a chuckle at the way her daughter hummed “Here Comes Santy Claus” and mumbled along her childish phrasing of the words softly in her cherubic little girl voice as she worked.

All was calm in their little space until Hope let out a dismayed gasp and ‘uh oh’ before the sound of cookie pieces hitting the floor alerted her mother’s ears. “What is it, Baby?” Emma turned fully, ready to comfort and soothe at the sad look on her four-year-old’s toddler face, tears already brimming in little eyes that were an exact blue mirror of her father’s.

“I broke him, Mama,” Hope cried, holding up the gingerbread man she had been painstakingly outlining in white icing and pressing Red Hots to as accents. Clearly, she had pressed one with a bit too much force and snapped the cookie arm off short.

Moving over to gently gather the little girl into a comforting hug, Emma shushed the gathering tears, knowing that between the impatience and bold reactions Hope had inherited from her, the passion of her father, and the full measure she had received of both their stubbornness, if Hope’s tears got started it would be a whole different scene Killian walked into than the homey welcome she had planned. “It’s alright,” she soothed, holding the gingerbread man Hope had decorated up for the child’s inspection. “You did a good job, kiddo. He’ll still taste the same - and he’s looking pretty sharp, if you ask me. One arm being a little shorter won’t change how good the cookie is at all. It just makes him...unique.” She added the last bit as an afterthought, but something about her words seemed to connect with Hope as her youngest appeared deep in thought for several moments. When she did pipe up again, her words hit Emma square in the chest, making her blink back quick tears of stunned surprise.

“He’s like Daddy!” Hope exclaimed, taking back her cookie and seeming to hold onto it with a newly reverent care and pride. She looked to her mom for affirmation, and though Emma found her words clogged tightly in her throat, she nodded vigorously to Hope’s assertion, wanting the child to know how very fitting an idea it was.

“You’re right, Sweetheart,” she finally managed to rasp through her swelling emotions. “Daddy’s just all that much more special, isn’t he? He may be missing a hand, but he can do anything he needs and then some.”

Nodding vigorously, Hope went back to work, finishing off the gingerbread man with a big, white icing and red sugar heart on its chest “to make it like Papa’s too” she’d explained, and then continued on to make cookie versions of Mama and Henry and Hopey as well, clearly once again pleased with her efforts.

By the time Killian blustered in the front door from his job as harbormaster, the snow flecking his dark hair and woolen collar and the chilly wind at his back, calling out to ask where his two ladies were this fine Christmas Eve, Emma and Hope were giggling and singing along to “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” and licking icing and sprinkles from their sticky fingers over the sink, the Christmas cookie operation nearly complete.

Her husband’s tall, lean form appeared in the doorway, and for a moment Emma’s breath caught as she sat Hope down and the youngster squealed in delight, running across the room to her papa and launching herself into Killian’s arms. Even after nearly seven years of marriage, multiple battles, curses, separations and reunions, he still looked every bit the dashing rapscallion who had won her heart piece by grudging, gradual piece, and she loved him for it all over again. None of this life they shared would be possible if he hadn’t been willing to stick around and fight for their love, even when she had yet been too guarded and uncertain to believe.

Their eyes met over Hope’s head as Killian hugged his daughter close to his chest, and the knowing light in his gaze, the glow of warmth he sent toward her with an easy smile assured Emma that in this moment, once again, they understood each other.

Pulling back to grin broadly at his little girl, Killian asked jovially, “And just what have my two lovely elves been up to all day? It smells like Mrs. Claus’ kitchen itself in here!”

“We made Christmas cookies!” Hope proclaimed proudly, urging her father forward to the table until she could lean over to reach the particular cookie made in his likeness, and grab it up to offer him. “See Papa? This one is like you. He has an extra big heart, even with his missing hand.”

Emma could see the pronouncement caught her pirate every bit as strongly as it had her, though - to his credit - he barely seemed to miss a beat, grinning as he blinked misty eyes and planted a kiss atop his daughter’s riotously curling hair. “I do see, my little lass. And that is quite the compliment. I love it.”

Giggling, but obviously quite satisfied with his effusive praise, Hope held the cookie out, urging her Papa to have the first bite. As Killian oohed and aahed, smacking his lips and singing his little girl’s praises, asking if she was sure she didn’t have Mama use magic they were so good, Emma could only look on with a heart utterly full at how blessed she was to have a home and a family and a house full of love, more than she once could have ever dreamed.

~~~~*~~~*~~~~

Later that night, when Hope was at last asleep in her room upstairs, after finally being convinced she couldn’t wait up for Santa or he would never come, Emma sat curled up into Killian’s side on the couch in their living room, her sock feet tucked under her, his arm wrapped warmly around her and the pleasing rumble of his laughter vibrating through her from his chest. “Did you tell her that about the cookie?” Killian mused idly, when the nighttime stillness had fallen between them once again. His fingers caressed up and down her arm making Emma shiver with awareness despite the cocoon of blankets and his body heat she had snuggled herself into.

Shaking her head to his question, Emma could only smile at her husband in fond amusement, both at how he still couldn’t seem to see the amazing man he was to everyone who loved him and that he would believe anyone could influence their own little pirate to believe anything other than what she decided to. “The cookie broke while she was icing it, and I was trying to keep her from getting too upset. I only assured her it would taste just as good, and that it would be unique. She came up with the rest on her own.”

Killian’s clear, beguiling eyes were suspiciously bright as he shook his head in disbelief. To think that his daughter found him not only whole, but extraordinary, that a child could look up to him of all people, after all he had suffered and all he had done, was still almost more than the reformed Captain Hook could fathom. “You’re both much more than I deserve,” he whispered against her brow, lips lingering on her skin.

Emma clutched her husband tightly, humming into his kiss. “That goes right back at you, for me,” she replied fervently, praying he believed how deeply she meant every word.

Dipping his head to capture her lips fully with his own, cradling her chin in his hand, Killian swept her up, and Emma gave herself over to his ardent embrace, savoring for just one more moment the star lit on the top of their tree and the echo of the glimmering jewels of the many more in the night sky beyond before closing her eyes in bliss. The gift they had been given in this peaceful night together was a special kind of magic all its own - Christmas magic - and she wouldn’t trade it for anything else in the world.

TAGGING A FEW WHO MIGHT ENJOY: @searchingwardrobes @jennjenn615 @kmomof4 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @jrob64 @apiratewhopines @ineffablecolors @let-it-raines @spartanguard @therooksshiningknight @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @winterbaby89 @anmylica @cosette141 @donteattheappleshook @the-darkdragonfly @elizabeethan @sotangledupinit @wefoundloveunderthelight @zaharadessert @xarandomdreamx @gingerchangeling @gingerpolyglot @xsajx @ilovemesomekillianjones @drowned-dreamer @thislassishooked @tiganasummertree @optomisticgirl @shireness-says

#self promo sunday #cs future family fluff #cs christmas one shot #beautiful in the broken places #ouat future ff

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i-wish-this-was-me · 11 months ago

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Favorite fics (Lando):

Part. 2

2. Lando Norris:

Something celebratory (+CS) (Smut)

Something deserved (Smut)

No nut November (Smut)

Apple juice vs orange juice (smut)

Lando eating out reader (smut)

4 orgasms (smut)

Rough (smut)

Fighting birthday (smut)

Is it over now (smut)

Giving head (+OP) (smut)

Blindfolded (+OP) (smut)

Breaking point (+OP) (smut, fluff, angst)

Fingered for the first time (+OP) (smut)

Wet dream (+OP) (smut)

Leaked (smut)

Symphonies of stardust (smut)

All mine (smut)

Eyes, hands & lips (smut)

Your biggest fan (smut)

The big interview (+OP) (smut)

Welcome home (smut)

Last christmas (smut)

Is that mainly enough for you (smut)

Winners prize (smut)

Manhandling (smut)

Be careful what you wish for; part. 2 (smut)!

Hearing your voice (smut)

Don't look at him, look at me (smut)

Podium finishers (+MV, CL) (smut)

Good cop & bad cop (+OP) (smut)!

Aftercare (smut)

One to many (smut)!

Nsfw alphabet (smut)

Never going to happen again (smut)

I know a real orgasm (smut)

Anything, huh? (+OP) (smut)!

Pity fck (smut)!

Eating (smut)!

My (smut)

Inside (smut)!

Sensual (smut)

Heart to heart (smut)

Patience (smut)

Finger (smut)

Perfectly fine (smut)!

Rumors about you (smut)

Everything (sweet smut)

My english love affair (sweet smut)

Random headcanons (fluff and smut)

Back home (a bit more than suggestive but not really smut)

The video (suggestive)

Let me finish this level (suggestive)

Never going out in public again (suggestive)

Size (suggestive)

Touching (suggestive)!

MASTERLIST

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the-sparkling-diamond-satine · 4 days ago

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WIP Ask Game!

apparently i haven't played this since august so i thought i'd try and see if it helps kickstart my writing again!

Prompt: Make a new post with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! And then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

vampire satine x watcher christian

vampire satine x human nini

vampire satine x slayer nini

a light in the dark

i wanna breathe your air, press your chest against mine (think i know now what life should have been like)

give

take

winter holiday fic! snowed in!!

christian bijou shelter rescue

christian finds satine

maya gift fic

dream

nightmare

bdsm club modern au

satine and bijou escape

satine and bijou balcony

amnesia satine

romance novelist christian

satini andre best friend's brother

cs sex ed

ring rock box

haunted house christian overstimulated

christian and satine and andre neighbors

study abroad hook-up to LDR

massage

stage slap

neighbors au with bijou

childhood friends

off the pier

period

needles

you must've been looking for me (sending smoke signals)

injure

heal

"Please don't hurt me."

All Grown Up

ARFID Christian

i knew i loved her, then and there (i knew i loved her, touched her hair)

take this sinking boat and point it home (we’ve still got time)

reunion

pleasure

preferences

aftershocks

Nini/Satine panic attack

4 am shower

you took it from me (but i would've given it to you)

changing room

tell me you see me

Satine Hamish panic attack

Cold Satine

Bijou: the Sparkling Diamond’s Cat

sexting

if you hold me without hurting me, you'll be the first who ever did

last

first

Makeup Christian

Makeup Christian (Modern AU)

t4t (Modern AU)

Lifeguard AU

Jealous!Satine

OCD Christian

thanks, I hate it

Firework! for maya

to cover the bruises (which ending??)

Christian/Satine/Nini

Friends hear through hotel walls? (Arabia and Ivy)

Arabia/Ivy + Satine/Nini + La Choc x Baby Doll

Arcade trash rat

Missing Tour Hamish

Catsit Switch Up

Exes to lovers costars in a musical

Slower burn romance

gravity will hold us as we're holding on for life (and we're racing to get older)

nightmares

safe

too small to remember/too precious to forget

don't

"Come with me, to the stars!"

moments of tenderness

oral fixation

Hadestown time loop

pregnancy/kid!fic

in her sleep

non-binary Satine

Phone sex line

Coffee Shop AU

Fairy tale doesn't work

Theatre AU

Elevator - piano teacher and porn star

memento mori

Lush

5 moments when it wasn't safe to be himself (and 5 when it was)

Next Time Around

trans Christian childhood

t4t

chronically ill satine ???

first binder

needy

satine/nini kiss

"you're fun to touch"

experimental role reversal

airport crabs

satine as mom of newborn x neighbor christian

teen pregnancy satine

satine can't and christian tries to get her to

satini pregnancy fic

teenage kid!fic

scared to tell him

past baby loss

almost baby loss

chrisatini pregnancy

mom satine x teacher of her kid christian

acting abuse scene

satini exes to lovers

recovery satini

bijou christmas fluff

bijou shelter adoption

bijou piano singing

satine hallway run

satini club burns

satini poto movie

age anxiety satine

@satinechristian @littlelottediamond @elephantlovemedleys @ashleyslorens

@angel-with-paper-wings @mxssyrxcks

#irl getting in the way of writing so meano #maybe now that i have a little more time and wifi again i can write tho #i miss moulin rouge #send asks PLS #i love asks!!#i know this isn't a good time of day to post but im going to do it anyway so maybe i can come back to my computer later and have a few asks #and then i can just reblog later for those who will miss it #ask games

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kazoosandfannypacks · 1 year ago

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“Blanket Fort Fluff” by kazoosandfannypacks

Pairing: Captain Swan Rating: Teen Word Count: 1788 words Summary: When Emma realizes Killian's never made a blanket fort before, she sets up a blanket fort for their next night-in together. Author’s notes: A few months ago, we were watching my cousin's young son, and I asked the lad if he wanted me to make him a blanket fort. He seemed confused by this question, and I realized his parents and uncle and aunts had all failed him, in that he had never had a blanket fort before. He was delighted when I made him his "very own room" with some tray tables and blankets. Always on the lookout for fanfiction ideas, I realized that our favorite pirate has probably never had a blanket fort before either, so I decided to write a fic to remedy that. Taglist:@zahara@kmomof4@jonesfandomfanatic@booksteaandtoomuchtv@jrob64@tiganasummertree@anmylica@teamhook@undercaffinatednightmare@gingerchangeling@lonelyspectator@caught-in-the-filter @ultraluckycatnd @cs-rylie @silver-the-phoenix @pawshapedheart [if you’d like to be added to or removed from this list, hmu in my dms or askbox!]

Also on Ao3!

Killian sat on the couch next to Emma, his arm wrapped around her as she scrolled through the pin-interesting application on her talking phone. How Emma and Henry were able to focus on watching a moving picture show while also focusing on their phone screens was still a mystery to Killian.

Emma's talking phone buzzed- a digital message from Henry, one with a picture.

"You do realize your mother is actually right here in the room with you?" Killian asked Henry, who sat in his own chair a few feet away. "Why don't you just get up and show her whatever it is you want her to see?"

"It's just easier to send a text message," Henry said, "Less work."

"Makes sense," Killian said, secretly wondering how any step that involved using more technology was something someone could consider less work.

He saw Emma smile at whatever it was Henry'd sent, then reply with a picture of a face that was laughing while crying. She showed the message to Killian; it was an image of text that said: "I've decided to no longer be an adult. If you need me I'll be in my blanket fort- coloring and eating fruit loops."

"A fortress made of blankets?" Killian asked.

"You guys didn't have blanket forts back in our world?" Emma asked.

"Of course not," Killian said, "we had fortresses made of practical materials, like wood and stone. What's a blanket fort supposed to protect against?"

"Bad days," Emma shrugged, "sadness, I guess?"

"And adulthood," Henry tacked on.

"Ain't that the truth, kid."

"So kids in this realm just build forts out of blankets," Killian asked, "for fun?"

"All the time," Emma said.

"Fascinating." Killian said.

He didn't bother trying to continue the conversation, as the movie was just getting to what Emma and Henry referred to as "the good part," the final confrontation between good and evil, and Killian wanted to give it his full attention.

💕🦢💕🏴‍☠️💕

That conversation was all but forgotten after a week, when Killian took Henry sailing to give Emma a day to herself. He then dropped Henry off at Regina's- and now Emma and Killian could have a night to themselves.

"Emma, love," he called as he entered, "I'm home!"

He was in for a bit of a shock when he entered the living room. It looked like someone had set up a tent over the couch. It was made of blankets, hung on a clothesline strung across the room, fairy lights from last Christmas strung along the blankets' edges.

One of the blankets lowest to the ground moved, opening like a flap to reveal Emma peeking out underneath.

"Surprise!" Emma said.

"Indeed I am," Killian said, "what's all this?"

"Remember when I told you about blanket forts?" Emma crawled out from under the blankets, wearing a robe and pajama pants.

"Aye," he smiled as she walked over to him, "I take it this is one of them,"

"Not too shabby, if I do say so myself." Emma placed her hands on his shoulders and gave him a kiss. "I figured it might be fun to do something special tonight."

"Every night with you is special, love," Killian kissed her cheek, "I'll join you in the fort as soon as I've washed up."

"Don't be long."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

💕🦢💕🏴‍☠️💕

He'd noticed when he went upstairs that Emma had laid out his own fluffy robe and pajamas pants for him, as well as his slippers, so after a quick shower he changed into those, then hurried downstairs, not about to keep his Swan waiting too long.

Emma was waiting for him at the entrance to their blanket hideout, holding a bag of microwaved popcorn

"That was quick," Emma remarked, "I almost didn't have enough time to make popcorn."

Killian smiled. "You'd be surprised at how motivated a pirate can be when he's got a blanket fort and the most beautiful woman in all the realms waiting for him."

He gave his wife a kiss on her now blushing cheek. Ever looking for a chance to be a gentleman, he took the bowl of popcorn from her so she wouldn't have to carry it herself.

She smiled and pulled back the "door" to their fortresses and gestured for him to enter first. He did so, and she followed after him.

He hadn't expected it to feel so much cozier than the blanket fort than it usually did in the living room- and yet, something that felt like home hit him as he walked into the blanket walled room, which contained the couch, a pile of pillows and blankets in front of it, and more fairy lights around the inside.

"In the spirit of nostalgia," Emma said, taking his hook in her hands and dragging him across the fort by it, "we'll sit on the floor."

"And color in a coloring book while eating fruit loops?" Killian joked as he followed Emma to the pile of pillows and blankets in front of the couch

"I was thinking I could pull up a movie on my laptop, and maybe we could have popcorn and snuggle instead," Emma said.

"Aye, I like that plan," Killian smiled.

Emma took a seat on the floor, and Killian followed her down. He found a comfortable position reclining against the back of the couch, and it soon became a lot more comfortable, as Emma sat down next to him, nestling into his arms like they were the only place she could possibly belong.

Emma pulled out her laptop.

"What movie are we gonna watch tonight, love?" Killian asked.

"I don't know," Emma said, "picking which movie we watch every time is such a huge responsibility."

Killian could tell she was being sarcastic, but he still understood the sentiment. As much as he wished he could be more helpful in picking movies, he really knew nothing about the topic in question at all.

"In the name of nostalgia," Killian offered, "maybe a movie you liked as a kid?"

"That narrows it down," Emma rolled her eyes, then looked at him and smiled as she added, "but I appreciate the suggestion."

"I just wish I could be more help."

"You're all the help I need," Emma said, patting him on the leg.

Killian pressed his forehead against the side of her head and took her hand. "And you're all that I need." he whispered.

A slightly flustered smile crept across her face, just as Killian had calculated would happen, and she set her laptop down and turned towards him, so their noses brushed against each other.

"You're all I need too," Emma said.

"The most incredible woman in all the realms needs an old washout like me?" Killain thought, shaking his head and smiling.

"What?' Emma asked.

"Have I told you recently that your eyes sparkle like the morning dew on the grass?" Killian asked, brushing his hair out of her face with his hook, "Or that your smile is like the silver lining in the clouds after a week of storms? Or that your hair shines like the sun in winter, and that flush of red creeping across your cheeks right now is the most beautiful color I've ever laid eyes on?"

Emma placed her hand on his neck.

"I don't know," she replied, "have I told you recently that your eyes are like a dip in the lake in the summer? That your hair's like a field of flowers that I just wanna run through," and she slid her hand back and her fingers charted their courses already through his hair, "and that your lips are like a ship, like a home I want to fall into?"

Now he was blushing too, trying as he may to keep his cool.

"I believe you have, love," he said.

"Have I?"

"At least once or twice- but about that last line," he then tapped her lips, then his, with the flat of his hook, "something about falling into my lips?"

"Oh?" Emma leaned forward, her smiling lips hovering next to his, just close enough to drive him mad. "And what was that?"

Killian smiled, "I think you know," he raised an eyebrow.

"Do I?" she raised an eyebrow in return. "Do I really?"

"Now you're just toying with me," he said, "you know how it gets to me when you play coy with me."

Emma's smile widened, "You wanna kiss me so badly it's almost pathetic."

"I don't want to kiss you badly," he said, letting go of her hand so he could cradle the back of her neck instead, "I want to kiss you well- oh so very well."

Her breath spiraled across his lips like a hurricane, and her fingers twirled around his hair and twisted across his neck like they'd gotten caught in the storm. She smiled, then whispered, "Go for it."

She didn't have to tell him twice. He pulled her lips into his like the tide draws a ship to her home port, less like he was pulling her and more like he was leading her exactly where she wanted to be anyways.

And it was right where he wanted to be too. Half a decade ago, he wouldn't've dreamt of a moment like this one- holding Emma Swan- his wife, Emma Swan- in his own two arms, in the living room of their house, her lips on his, her hands on his neck, wanting to be here, wanting to kiss him, to hold him, to love him! In two centuries spent trying to get what he wanted, he never would've guessed that what he wanted was as simple and beautiful as this.

She slid her hands down to the edges of his robe, pulling him even closer than he already was, curling her lips even tighter around his.

He shifted her ever so slightly, Emma giggling a little as he laid her down, her head now resting on the couch, himself almost laughing as well as he wrapped himself around her. His lips stayed on top of hers, his face on hers, his chest on hers- his heart on hers.

"Oh," she sighed. She let go of his robe, only so she could run her hands underneath it, all along his chest and back, tracing out routes she was well acquainted with. "Thanks for the help."

"Help with what?" he asked, with a low voice, and with messy kisses as his lips danced across hers.

Emma wrapped her arms around him tighter, pulling him even further onto her, then left his lips so she could plant a field of kisses just below his ear, before whispering a response into it.

"I don't think I'll have to worry about picking a movie tonight."

💕🦢💕🏴‍☠️💕

#captain swan #once upon a time #killian jones #emma swan #ouat #cs ff #fanfiction #post canon #canon compliant #henry mills #once upon a time season 6 #fluff #kazzy writes #kazzy writes cs oneshots

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sotangledupinit · 2 years ago

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a little bundle of icing - My CS Gift Exchange Fic

Prompt: Giftee's Wants: Established relationship, cs family fluff, cs parents, modern au with established relationship. NO: character death, angst

SUMMARY: She thought the hardest part would be hiding the gifts from the (mostly) reformed pirate. In actuality, the hardest part has been wrapping them. For some reason, every chance she’s gotten has been foiled by one thing or another.// or Emma tells Killian she's pregnant.

RATING: G for General Audiences

WORD COUNT: 4,575 words

TAGS: Captain Swan, Christmas, Holiday fluff, Pregnancy

AO3

AUTHOR’S NOTE: this was fun to work with and try, as i haven't done much established relationship writing. hope everyone enjoys this!

hi @middlemistcs13 ! i picked your prompt for the gift exchange! as you already know (and read), this fic has been up on AO3 for a few days but here’s the tumblr post to accompany it! yay! for anyone who hasn’t read this yet - i hope you enjoy!

***

“And this Santa Claus… your world doesn’t consider him to be flagrant?”

The answering huff of a laugh from Henry is loud, even from the other end of the table. “Dude. Of course not. He leaves presents for you to reward a year of being a good person.”

“But aren’t you required to cook for him as well?”

Emma’s eyes drift to the end of the table where Henry and Killian stand side by side, each holding a piping bag of icing, one red and one green. Sprinkles litter the table and powdered sugar is dusted across Killian’s leather vest, not that he cares much. Their sleeves are rolled up to their elbows and a mixing spoon is still taped to his brace (a brilliant idea that he and her son supposedly had; the mess they have yet to clean up says otherwise).

She tries hard to suppress her grin at the image but she knows she’s failing miserably so she ducks her head and kneads the dough beneath her knuckles, listening along.

“Well, not really,” Henry says. Emma feels his eyes on her for a moment but she pretends not to notice. “It’s more like a donation or a gift.”

“Ah ha!” Killian cheers, mixing spoon gesturing wildly as he points a finger at Henry. Some of the red icing drips from the bag under the pressure and lands with a plop! on the counter between the naked gingerbread people and sugar cookies. “So it’s not from the goodness of his heart!”

At her quick glance up, she catches Killian’s eye and he winks at her. Her kid can be too easy to rile up sometimes, something Killian likes to do to get back at Henry’s quips about his struggles with modern technology. She doesn’t always understand their relationship, the way they can rile each other up one moment and immediately slide into the caring, supportive step-father/son dynamic the next – but she’s grateful nonetheless to have them be so close.

Henry rolls his eyes. “Yes, it is. He’s basically our world’s Robin Hood.”

“Didn’t this world already have a Robin Hood?”

“Oh my god.” Henry groans and then calls out to Emma, a gallop of green icing landing on the face of a gingerbread man. “Mom, you need to divorce your husband.”

“No, you need to start decorating those gingerbread cookies instead of the table.” She thinks she succeeds in keeping the amusement out of her voice but Killian’s quiet snickering tells her otherwise. “And you,” she continues, aiming her glare at the husband in question, “have to clean up. I’m not letting you two leave without cleaning up first.”

“Are you positive you can’t to come with us, love?”

There’s nothing more that Emma would love to do than pick out a tree with Henry and Killian for their first Christmas in their house when there’s nothing going on. No foes, evils witches, or snow monsters appearing out of nowhere to ruin any holiday plans. Storybrooke has been blissfully peaceful for the most part for the last two years following the Final Battle.

Emma still knocks on wood when those thoughts cross her mind. Best not to jinx it.

Still, as much as she wishes she could join the boys on their tree hunt, she can’t as she has far more pressing matters to attend to. Those being trying to wrap Killian’s Christmas gifts without him finding out what they are first. She thought the hardest part would be hiding the gifts from the (mostly) reformed pirate. In actuality, the hardest part has been wrapping them. For some reason, every chance she’s gotten has been foiled by one thing or another.

Her first attempt was when Killian was going out for a day excursion on the Jolly Roger with Smee. She waited until she was absolutely sure the ship left the docks to pull out her gifts only for her sheriff’s beeper to go off. By the time she handled the situation and returned home, the Jolly had returned to shore and it was only a matter of time before Killian came back.

There were a few more close calls at home after that – enough to make her consider wrapping his gifts at the station. By the time she actually attempted it, David had barged through the front doors at such a speed that Emma’s surprised she managed to hide the gifts in time. Despite what most of the town believes about her mother, there’s no worse gossiper or meddler in town than her father. The only thing possibly worse than Killian discovering his gifts early is finding out about them from someone else.

After that, she assumed her luck had almost completely abandoned her. Christmas is coming up quickly and she can’t bear to give him his gifts without wrapping them. Last year he took so much pleasure in showing Henry how easily he could rip through the wrapping with his hook. She can’t take the idea of preventing the look of glee on both of their faces appearing again.

Plus, she wants to be able to watch Killian unwrap one of the most life-changing gifts ever, see the different emotions play on his face as the realization sinks in.

“I’d love to but I really can’t,” she answers honestly. “I have to handle security at the school’s Christmas fair today and we can’t keep putting off the tree. At this rate, we’d be getting it in January.”

“We’ll pick out a good one, Mom, don’t worry,” Henry consoles. He winks at her once Killian isn’t looking and his comforting smile only grows bigger.

It’s her own fault, really. One of her earlier attempts to wrap Killian’s gifts only resulted in Henry coming home from school to see them laid out on her bedroom floor when he went looking for her. The surprise that crossed his face quickly turned into pure joy and Emma unsuccessfully willed herself not to cry.

No bribing was needed to make Henry keep the gifts a secret. He knows how special this is for her.

For the second time in her life, Emma’s pregnant. For the first time, it’s with someone she loves – her True Love at that – and she has no fear of what the future might hold for her and their baby. She’s excited.

All she needs now is just ten minutes of peace with a guarantee of No Killian so she can actually keep it a secret until Christmas.

Killian and Henry are able to appropriately decorate the gingerbread and sugar cookies after a few elbow nudges are exchanged while she puts the last batch of cookies in the oven, though there are some close calls that Emma has to shut down the moment her eyes catch what one of them is trying to do. She does not want to deal with her father’s sputtering and mother’s giggles at the sight of any cookie decorated in any way less than a G rating.

By the time they’re leaving and Killian is warming up the bug, Henry pulls Emma aside under the guise of finding his missing shoe.

“You’re not really missing your shoe, are you? Because otherwise you’re going barefoot, kid.”

Henry rolls his eyes. “Chill, it’s in my backpack.” He hooks a thumb to gesture at the bag on his shoulders and Emma nods. “Grandpa’s already at the school and says he hopes you ‘feel better’. I’m planning to take my sweet time inspecting every tree with Killian. I’m gonna feed him a bunch of fake facts so that he gets really invested too. Should buy you like two hours.”

Emma worries her lip, shoving her hands in her back pockets so she doesn’t play with her ring, a sure sign that she’s hiding something if Killian sees her. “What if Killian’s researched about Christmas trees though? He may be a pirate but he’s also a nerd.”

Henry exudes a confidence that she doesn’t have, given her track record this season. “Trust me, I know how to rile him up.” She rolls her eyes goodheartedly at that. As much as Killian loved to tease and rile Henry up, her kid loved to do the same just as much. She worried at first that it meant the two didn’t like each other and couldn’t get along, but her worries were quickly tossed away when she saw the two sitting at her kitchen table as Killian spoke to Henry in low whispers, helping him with an issue in his friend group.

He treated Henry like an equal, let him know that everything he said, saw, and felt held value. A trust existed between them that Emma didn’t breach – not that she wanted to. She respected that as much as she wants to be able to do everything for her kid, sometimes he needs to seek out someone else and she’s thrilled that most times he chooses Killian. Ribbing on each other is just another way to show that affection.

Emma bids her goodbyes to the two. Henry’s hug leaves her feeling the warmth one only gets from being a parent, and Killian’s goodbye kiss sends tingles down to her toes. That tingling is the exact feeling that got her into this situation and if she hadn’t been already, the look he gives her as he shuts the door behind him would’ve done it.

She waits for them to make it to the tree farm, according to Henry’s location and update texts, checking in with David who’s covering her shift at the school’s Christmas fair. It is then and only then that she feels comfortable enough to wrap the gifts.

Hauling them out of the closet in no time at all, she makes quick work of wrapping them. Despite the assurances that no one would be bothering her, especially her husband, she still chances a glance over her shoulder every few moments, just to be sure. She’s come this far and she’ll be damned if letting her guard down ruins the surprise.

Wrapping goes seamlessly and Emma triple checks that she has gathered and wrapped all the gifts before she places them in the closet under the stairs with the others. One more thing she can cross off her list.

When Emma wakes up the morning of Christmas, it’s to soft humming against her neck, a Christmas song that’s been on the radio more often than not this last week. She’s just thankful it’s one of Kelly Clarkson’s songs and not Wham!’s Last Christmas.

“Merry Christmas, love,” Killian whispers to her neck before placing a light kiss there. He wraps his arm tighter around her middle, pulling her back flush against his front, and she feels her stomach erupt in butterflies. He doesn’t know it yet but his hand rests right where their kid is growing and she works hard to refrain her glee for the time being.

Instead, she focuses on the trail of kisses he places down her jaw until he leans over her side to plant one on her mouth. She hums contently into the kiss, turning onto her back so she can wrap her arms around his neck. “Merry Christmas indeed.”

They share a smile before he leans back in for a short kiss.

“How long do you suppose we have before the lad comes stomping down the stairs for his gifts?”

Emma considers his question, furrowing her eyebrows when she realizes she forgot to charge her phone overnight and it’s dead. “What time is it?”

“Nearly eight.”

She laughs and shakes her head. “It’s a matter of seconds then, not minutes.”

“Think we can distract him with his PlayStation?”

“Wait – PlayStation? Not ‘Playing box’? Not ‘Stationary play’?” He crinkles his nose at her poor imitation of his accent and shakes his head.

“Of course I’ve learned the names by now, Swan.” He ignores her interjection of ‘Jones’ though it does earn her a smile. “I’ve known them for quite some time. But Henry doesn’t know that and I quite enjoy annoying him with that bit.”

She laughs and runs her fingers through his hair, tugging lightly on the silky soft strands as her reprimand. However, his reaction shows it is anything but. “I don’t know which of you is worse. Honestly.”

The two of them lean in with the full intent to enjoy as much of a lazy morning in bed as possible on the holiday but their lips don’t even meet before it’s interrupted.

“Merry Christmas!” Henry yells as he comes down the stairs. His feet stomp on each step and Emma grins at the way Killian cringes. He pauses on the landing outside their door and shouts before hurrying down the steps with stomping feet again. “You’ve got five minutes before I force you out so get dressed!”

“Like a bloody ogre,” Killian mutters as he rolls off of her. Despite his grumbling, the smile he gives her as he helps her out of bed and pulls her close is soft. The walls between them disappeared long ago and neither of them are afraid of the openness that exists in their relationship. It’s another first for Emma, being able to be so unapologetically herself and so vulnerable with her emotions when before Killian, she’d always been waiting for the other shoe to drop. Never before him did she allow such a complete offering of herself to another person. With him, it doesn’t feel so scary.

It's also why she’s so excited to have this baby. Being with Killian makes anything they face not seem so bad.

The thought of what lies beneath their tree brings a giddiness to her movements that even her husband notices.

“What’s gotten into you this morning?” he asks as he puts on his brace. He sends her a wicked grin that has her toes curling as he attaches the hook – the same one he shined the night before so he could show it off to Henry in all its unwrapping glory.

“I’m just… really happy.”

“Aye,” he says once he comes close to her again, one hand on her waist and his lips descending upon hers. “So am I.”

Their moment is broken by Henry banging on their door, warning that they better come down that instant or he’s opening everyone’s presents. The notion gets a laugh out of her, knowing that despite his threats, her kid wouldn’t follow through with this one. Maybe.

Nervousness doesn’t come to her until it’s time to hand her gifts over to Killian. He sits in a pile of wrapping paper on the couch, the ‘Best Dad in the Universe’ mug Henry got for him sitting on the coffee table. Henry had been sheepish as he handed over the gift, calling Killian ‘Dad’ on occasion now and then, nowhere near a regular occurrence. Still, the sentiment behind the gift, and the true feelings it relayed, left both her son and husband emotional. They exchanged quiet words that left them both teary-eyed and Killian had wrapped it up by showing Emma the mug as if she hadn’t helped Henry design it online. He then sat it on the coffee table so gently like a prized trophy and couldn’t stop looking at it.

If he reacted this way to Henry’s gifts, she can’t imagine the emotion that’ll come with hers.

The two of them have led hard lives, obstacles in their paths trying to prevent them from wanting to push for the light at the end of the tunnel. But they both did, whether out of sheer stubbornness or resilience, she’s not sure, and it held it them together until they found each other. Then suddenly they weren’t navigating the ups and downs of life alone and everything became a bit more bearable day by day.

Fatherhood is something that always came natural to Killian, she could see, and something that he wanted. His pirating ways took him to many lands and realms but he’d gotten to the point where he wanted to settle down and have a family. To live a life of peace he was never granted beforehand. Villains didn’t get happy endings though so he assumed it was out of the cards for him.

Henry accepted him, made him part of their family, and looked to him as a father. The remaining Lost Boys sought out his comforting presence, a familiar figure, despite their tangled pasts or because of it, when they were feeling particularly lonely or destructive, and he provided a guiding hand back. Hell, even baby Neal latched onto him almost as quickly as he did her parents.

There was a contentedness to Killian when he stepped into the role of father-figure that she never saw before. It shined brightest with Henry but she always saw the longing look in his eyes when Henry left for a weekend at Regina’s or when they saw Sean and Ashley with their baby at Granny’s.

Her mother once said, “Happy endings always start with hope.” Their life together was the start. This is the continuation of it.

“Ready for my gifts?” Emma asks. She discretely wipes her sweaty palms on her thighs and takes the gifts from Henry’s outstretched hands. He gives her a reassuring smile and she can only manage a quick, tight but grateful grin in return.

“Thanks, love.”

Killian lifts his hook to open the smallest of the boxes when Emma shoots her hand out to grab his wrist, a loud ‘No’ leaving her lips before she even realizes what she’s done.

Concern fills Killian’s gaze as he leans closer. His eyes rove over her person, searching, cataloging, trying to get any hint of what’s happening. “Emma, what’s gotten into you?”

“Actually…” she starts with a sardonic laugh, tilting her head.

“Ew, gross, Mom,” Henry crimes in, face wrinkled in disgust.

She clears her throat while rolling her eyes and instead taps the biggest of the three boxes. “Open this first.”

“O-kay…” Killian eyes her as he gently, slowly, unwraps the biggest box. Instead it lies a photo album titled Daddy & Me. “It’s blank?” he asks.

“Yeah, it’s for you to fill it with photos.”

“Ah.” Killian turns to Henry. “I suppose we should start filling this up, aye?”

A quick moment of panic flashes across Henry’s face as he looks to Emma for guidance, both of them floundering. “Uh, yeah!” he says in a hurry. “I can help you fill it up.” He then gives Emma a pointed look, Killian none the wiser.

“Open your second one,” Emma encourages. Killian takes another hard look at the album, the content in his gaze soothing any nerves that remained from Emma’s anticipation.

Earlier, Henry laughed smugly as Killian ripped through about thirty layers of wrapping paper to finally uncover the mug. Henry encouraged him to really dig into it, something that flashes Emma’s mind back to the beanstalk and made her laugh. Killian had taken the message to heart.

Now, he uses the hook to lift the edges of the wrapping paper and gently unravels it. Beneath the paper is a box and Killian gives her a watery grin once he sees what’s inside.

His very first Christmas ornament – or at least the first that’s meant specifically for him – lays inside. It features a large brown bear holding a baby bear wearing a diaper. Beneath the figures is a banner that reads, ‘Papa Bear, Est. 2022”.

Emma expects the questioning glance he sends her way and the subtle, confused one he gives to Henry. However, he receives no answers and Emma finally taps the small box. “Now you can open it.”

She bites her lip and her and Henry share a reassuring nod as Killian opens the last gift. Sitting inside the small box, cleaned off and surrounded in tissue paper is a positive pregnancy test.

Killian picks it up with a cautionary gentleness that she hasn’t seen before. His mouth drops open as he stares it down and he mouths the word ‘Pregnant’ over and over again as his eyes get misty. “Is – is this real?” he asks, voice full of emotion. Emma nods, blinking back her own tears.

“Yeah, Killian, it’s real.”

“Gods, love.” Suddenly, Emma is pulled out of her chair and swept off her feet as Killian tugs her into a tight embrace. He kisses every inch of skin he can find, pulling back every few kisses to catch her lips before he embraces her again. His arms are bound around her tightly, the squeeze between them only getting tighter as Killian urges Henry to join their hug. “You’re going to be a big brother, lad. The best there is,” he whispers and Emma nearly lets out the croaking sob stuck in her throat.

As much as it is a monumental moment for Killian, he still includes Henry and still makes sure that he’s wanted around. The notion makes her heart burst. Once again, she’s aware that she never needed any official True Love test to give her confirmation that Killian is it for her. The way he acts proves it more than enough. It doesn’t make her any less emotional, especially as Killian whispers, as giddy as she’d been that morning, “We’re having a baby!”

“Yes, we are!” she whispers back excitedly.

The trio embrace for a few more moments before Henry’s phone rings and lets him know that it’s Regina reaching out. He congrats the two of them, tells them what wonderful parents they already are, and then bounds out of the room.

“Wow,” Killian says with the long release of a deep breath. “You’re pregnant.”

“I am,” she teases.

Killian’s wide grin matches her own and even though he leans in to kiss her, they aren’t able to do much as their smiles keep breaking through.

It’s not until Killian places a hand on her stomach that her breath catches and realization sinks in. They’re really doing this. They’re having a baby. She can’t explain it but she thinks she’s having a girl. Even Killian’s seemingly decided so as well, babbling on about their daughter despite the fact that they won’t officially find out until Emma’s next appointment in two weeks.

They will have a baby. Together.

They’re going to bring someone into this world that’s half him and half her and it’ll be their responsibility to not screw them up.

With Henry it was easier. He was already ten by the time he connected with both of them, respect and manners already instilled in him. All they had to do was encourage them to flourish. But with a baby, they’ll be starting from scratch. In all honesty, neither of them know much of what to do aside from the basics to keep a baby alive, but she figures they’ll approach it like they do everything else: together.

“You know, little one,” Killian starts as he leans down towards her stomach. “Your grandma is a very wise woman and she once told me that happy endings always start with hope.” He swallows, glancing up at Emma for a moment as his voice gets even quieter. “I’m excited to meet you, Hope.”

4 years later…

“No, no, no, love, not like that.”

Emma looks up from drying dishes and fixes her gaze on the other end of the table. Killian and Henry are bent over it, heads close together. Between them, Hope kneels on a chair and squeezes an icing bag with so much force that fat glops of red icing plop onto the cookies, nearly covering an entire group of gingerbread men. She watches the way Killian keeps the rounded curve of his hook, sharp tip pointed away, pressed against the center of Hope’s back to keep her steady, attempting to guide her in how to decorate the cookie while she just wants to mix colors together.

One of Henry’s hands holds a gingerbread man in place for her, fingers turning red from the icing that’s slipped over the side, and he’s quick to grab the green icing bag before Hope’s grubby little fingers can grab it. “Oh no you don’t, munchkin.”

“I’m not a munchkin!” Hope pouts. Her glare is fierce as she turns her attention to Henry, cookies completely forgotten as she stands from her kneeling position.

“Oh really?” he eggs her on, fighting to keep the grin off his face. “How come you’re on a chair and I’m still taller than you then? Munchkin.”

“Stinky nose!”

“Short stack.”

“Hairy back!”

A whistle breaks through their teasing before Emma can step in and all eyes go to Killian. He leaves his hook pressed against Hope’s back even as he straightens and stands tall. “Enough of this nonsense from me crew!” Hope stares at him with wide eyes and a dropped jaw, joy filtering its way into her features.

An aspiring pirate captain herself, the three-year-old takes great glee in seeing her father step into his, admittedly watered down, pirate persona. She turns towards Killian, bouncing where she stands in the chair. Her hands attempt to come together in claps but only succeed in dropping more icing all over her hands and Henry’s.

Killian plucks the icing bag from Hope and places it aside. “Now,” he starts, voice an octave lower. “This mess needs to be cleaned otherwise I’ll let Santa know to toss yer presents overboard! Aye?”

“Noooo!” Hope shouts. “He can’t do that!”

“He knows Santa,” Henry says. He nods to Killian as he catches the wet washcloth Emma tosses to him and begins to wipe his icing covered fingers. “He can totally make it happen.”

“Aye,” Emma adds, grinning wide at the way Killian’s nose crinkles. She holds a second wet washcloth in her hands and comes over to Hope, gently wiping her hands clean. “But perhaps me and Papa can clean up the kitchen while you help Henry put some tinsel on the tree instead. It’d be a big help.”

“Aye, aye, captain!” Hope tugs at her hands, pouting when Emma won’t let them free yet. However, once she’s able to, she turns and jumps on Henry’s back, already urging him towards the living room.

“You know,” Killian says, “you’ve just granted her permission to make a mess even worse than this one.”

Emma grins, “Are you saying you weren’t also desperate for five minutes to ourselves?”

Killian hums, giving her a grin that she knows so well. His arms come around her waist while hers wrap around his neck and their lips meet in a soft kiss. When he tries to pull away, Emma keeps him locked with her and the heat between them rises. So lost in the progressing passion of their kisses, she doesn’t even realize Killian’s lifted her onto the table until Henry voices his disgust.

“Gross, guys,” he says. “We eat there.” He shakes his head, shuddering at catching them mid-make out, and reaches for the extra bag of tinsel on the counter. He holds it up and points at it before he leaves. “For scarring me, I am not cleaning this up.”

A snort comes out of Emma before she can stop it and she closes her eyes, content as Killian presses a soft kiss to her cheek. His hand drifts down to rest against her stomach and she feels the butterflies of excitement start up again. Only two more weeks before they can share their big secret.

“This will be a fun Christmas, love.”

#captain swan #killian jones #emma swan #henry mills #captain cobra swan #swan jones family #a little bundle of icing #my fics #temporarystatus #captain swan fanfic #cs fanfic #cs ff #captain swan ff #holiday fic

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fourteen-teacups · 2 years ago

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O Christmas Tree 🎄

It’s been a long while since I posted any fic, but it’s Christmas… a bit of festive Turner family fluff, set in December 1967, just before the s12 CS

Thank you @thatginchygal and @wednesdaygilfillian for your support and for being my writing buddies! 🥰🥰

🎄🎄🎄

We're going to have a lovely spruce.

Timothy chuckled to himself as he remembered Mum’s words from that Christmas long ago. So much had changed in the eight years since Angela’s first Christmas -- and yet some things remained exactly the same. The annual evergreen tree was currently bundled into the rear of the Turner’s estate car as Tim manoeuvred the vehicle out of the last dark country lane and back into the city.

Out of necessity, he had learned to drive during Dad’s convalescence. Tim was more than grateful he could help ferry his family about during this time, but the independence it provided was equally valuable. Especially when he thought ahead to eventually qualifying as a doctor. Although he liked to think, when the time came, he’d be driving something sportier.

This evening the family had been shopping at a Christmas tree farm in the countryside, just outside of London. Mr Buckle suggested the idea to Dad, who had been similarly enthusiastic regarding the outing. Traditionally, the Turners chose a tree from the stall at the Poplar Christmas Market but, since the accident, Mum and Dad had been more intentional about seizing every opportunity.

Timothy’s heart clenched in a moment of anguish, imagining all they could have lost on that autumn night. But his distress was immediately replaced with joy, recalling the way his siblings had worn themselves out in the excitement of running around the festive lot.

*****

“Over here!” Teddy called, before ducking for cover behind a sturdy conifer, daring his sisters to seek him out.

Tim watched as May dashed forward, but mistakenly turned away from the row of trees concealing her younger brother.

Angela’s more methodical approach allowed her to spy a tiny red mitten as it contrasted with the pine needles. Her eyes shone in triumph as she looked first to Timothy, then ran ahead to claim her victory.

Teddy’s shrieks alerted May and the three of them reunited for a brief moment, then took off again in separate directions.

Several rows over, Dad was speaking with the owner of the farm while Mum circled a nearby tree, inspecting it for flaws. “How fresh would you say this is?” Timothy heard her ask, as she reached to test the needles with a gloved hand. He couldn’t hear the man’s response but saw in Mum’s smile that she was pleased with the answer. Looking up, she caught his eye and beckoned him over. “What do you think, Timothy, is it filled out evenly?”

Tim followed her around the specimen and agreed there were no bare spots. “It’s the perfect height, too,” he added, measuring it against himself. Mum made a predictable face that communicated she was equally proud and exasperated, causing Tim to laugh out loud.

Tapping his father’s arm, she put on her professional demeanor once again. “This one should do nicely.” Dad winked at her -- it was embarrassing how he not-so-secretly loved her authoritative streak -- but when he tried reaching for the tree, Mum promptly stopped him and began to explain his recent injury to the proprietor.

Taking that as his cue, Timothy set off to chase his siblings through the tree lot one last time.

*****

Now all was quiet within the estate car as the road hummed gently beneath the tyres. The newly purchased tree stuck partly out the open back window allowing the crisp December air to circulate throughout the vehicle. To Tim’s left, Angela and May slept propped against each other, still wrapped snugly in their matching pink coats.

From the back seat, the low tones of Dad’s voice reached him. “Perhaps this will be the start of a new tradition.”

Timothy’s eyes flicked to the rear view mirror, briefly meeting his father’s eyes and catching the delighted grin on Mum’s face. Tim couldn’t help but think of the lost tradition of the silver tree, but he kept silent. He was beginning to understand that his dad’s passion for healing extended beyond the physical body. And though the memory still rankled slightly, he nodded his agreement.

Despite his vexation, Tim acknowledged the positive developments brought on by the passing years: another sister, and the excitement of Teddy’s arrival. He glanced at the mirror again, but couldn’t see his brother in the reflection. More than likely, Teddy was curled up on the back seat with his head in Mum’s lap.

Dad was speaking again, but it was too low for him to hear. Timothy assumed he was trying not to wake the little ones -- that is, until he heard Mum’s giggle. With a barely suppressed sigh, he turned his head to the rear of the vehicle, only to find them beaming innocently back at him. As their long-suffering son, he shook his head and returned his eyes to the road. The more things change, the more they stay the same. While Tim navigated along streets draped in coloured lights, the car was filled not only with the scent of their lovely spruce, but also the muted sounds of his overly-affectionate parents’ sweet nothings. And perhaps not-so-secretly, he wouldn't have it any other way.

#call the midwife #ctm christmas fic #turnadette #turner family

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snowbellewells · 1 year ago

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@kmomof4 Oh goodness! Reading this again still almost made me teary-eyed in the best way, like a favorite Hallmark movie that you have to watch every year. I loved how good Emma was with Alice, and what great friends Alice and Henry were. I loved the whole idea of the tiny, close-knit school working together to surprise Alice with her Papa’s return for the holidays! It played out so beautifully- and a reader would have to be made of stone not to be touched by the way you described Alice running to Killian and being swept up in her dad’s arms again at last. ❤️🎄❤️

I can’t lie though - my favorite part isn’t even all that Christmas-y. I love when Emma and Killian first set eyes on each other here. They are both quite obviously completely smitten! And then when he kisses her hand?!? Perfection!! I melted all over again. 😍

Can’t wait to read the new parts, but wanted to have this fresh in mind!! And it was wonderful!!

A Christmas Surprise A CS Christmas fic

I am so excited to finally be sharing this fic with y’all!!! I wrote it back in November after @gingerpolyglot shared a desire on the CSMM discord for a CS fic where someone comes home from deployment and surprises their family, like the videos on YouTube. So I ran with it and this is the result! I hope you enjoy it and let me know what you think!

Many thanks to @gingerpolyglot for the prompt, @profdanglaisstuff for stellar beta services, and @hollyethecurious for her help in brainstorming.

Summary: Elsa Jones enlists her friend Emma Swan to come up with a scheme to surprise her niece Alice Jones when her Papa, Killian, returns from deployment just in time for Christmas.

Rating: G

Words: 2,530

Tags: Return from Deployment, YouTube Reunions, Military Deployment, Christmas Fluff

On ao3

Tagging the usuals. Please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed.

@hollyethecurious @winterbaby89 @snowbellewells @stahlop @resident-of-storybrooke @jennjenn615 @kingofmyheart14 @profdanglaisstuff @branlovestowrite @thisonesatellite @ultraluckycatnd @flslp87 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @let-it-raines @shireness-says @kymbersmith-90 @darkcolinodonorgasm @bethacaciakay @searchingwardrobes @ilovemesomekillianjones @teamhook @aprilqueen84 @qualitycoffeethings @superchocovian @artistic-writer @donteattheappleshook @doodlelolly0910 @seriouslyhooked @tiganasummertree @lfh1226-linda @xsajx @klynn-stormz @jrob64 @wefoundloveunderthelight @zaharadessert @elizabeethan @xhookswenchx @gingerpolyglot @allons-y-to-hogwarts-713 @sailtoafarawayland @justanother-unluckysoul @veryverynotgoodwrites @jonesfandomfanatic @deckerstarblanche @the-darkdragonfly @batana54 @purplehawkcaptain @k-leemac @motherkatereloyshipper @apiratewhopines @killiansqueenofthejollyroger @onceuponahookandswan @meat-pie-with-sauce @cosette141

Under the cut, unless Tumblr ate it.

Keep reading

#a christmas surprise #krystal writes #art by krystal #cs christmas fluff #cs ff #cs fanart #captain swan #cs fic rec #such a sweet treat #cs Christmas re-read #what a talented shipmate!

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thatginchygal · 2 years ago

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NEW 12/21: Just a lil’ Christmas fluff for y’all. Set pre-CS 2022, there are very (very) minor spoilers here. Really just an excuse for Turnadette and the Mushy Stuff™️ 😆😍🤩❤️💚🎄💚❤️ Rated G

Thanks to @fourteen-teacups for all her edits and for making writing so fun!!! 💗💗 And thanks to @wednesdaygilfillian for peeking in and giving a boost to reach the finish line!! 💙💙

Happiest of Holidays, friends!!! ❤️💚😘💚❤️

#call the midwife fanfic #turnadette #ginchy fic #Christmas fic #my favorite #aside from vampires #❤️💚🎄🎄💚❤️

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safyresky · 2 years ago

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Crystal Springs Chapter 21: Jacqueline's Cat

aka, Two Weeks Later, is up and at em, right here! Give it a read, give it a review, have a blast and a half!

For those who've recently joined the tag, hi! Allow me to introduce to you my The Santa Clause 3-specific fic, Crystal Springs! If you're in the mood for some funky gen fic, featuring our beloved icy blorbo Jack Frost and a redemption arc of sorts, with a cast of absolutely unhinged OCs, I'd highly recommend giving Crystal Springs a chance! Here's a summary for you all to eat up:

"It's been nearly a year since Jack's thaw and things...could be better, admittedly. It seems, that as the year has gone on and he's improved his relationship with Santa and the whole of Elfsburg, his powers have taken a hit. December's just around the corner, and his powers are just short of being gone.

This wouldn't be a problem if it weren't for the fact that Jack's powers are the only reason that Elfsburg, the Workshop, and the North Pole are able to exist safely, tucked away under the Dome. With his powers gone, the winter magic that keeps the Dome sturdy and dishing out proper quantities of Christmas magic, is running hot and out of control. It's melting, and the North Pole is getting warm.

Unable to hide his power loss any longer, an intervention is held by the Council and Jack admits that he lacks the Frost. But thankfully, there is a solution: enacting the Legate Law, summoning the sprite next-in-line for the title of Jack Frost.

There's just one problem: Jack's Legate is his younger sister, Jacqueline, who he has not seen or talked to since he nearly killed her dead almost fourteen hundred years ago. Out of options, with no other possible solution in their sights, they do it, bringing Jack and the sister he hurt so many years ago back together once more, in the hopes that together, they can get Jack's powers back and stop the Deliquesce.

Unfortunately, the Frosts have never been very lucky. Soon after her arrival, Jacqueline starts experiencing some unexpected blackouts, with unintended consequences. With Jack's powers hanging in the balance, and Jacqueline on the fritz, the pair decide to head back home to Crystal Springs, bringing Jack face to face with the rest of his family...and an ancient threat waiting for their moment to strike, their carefully laid plans finally coming full circle. Seems like saving Christmas may be a little bit...complicated this year.

This fic is my baby. Originally posted in 2012/13, it was finished in 2014/15, rewritten in 2017, and then again starting in 2020. We're still working through the 2020 version NOW, hence why you see these random updates in the tags, but not on ff.net. (CS is not posted to ao3 as of yet, but I'll get to it one of these days! )

Piqued your interest? SCHWEET! Have some links.

PROLOGUE (skipable tbh, will be better once Frostmas is finished) CHAPTER 1 (good starting point, would recommend)

Not vibing it? Cool cool cool, go ahead and click that J key and head on down your dash to something you do vibe!

All caught up on CS 202X? Then onto the main event!

What's 🆕 In Chapter 21?

AXED the ENTIRE lost journals/here's what we learnt at the Dream Spire bit with the cold front, given that I took those events and spread them about the previous two chapters, Chapter 19: The Man with a Plan, and Chapter 20: Freedom, both of which were updated December 4th! (icymi) :)

Probably should've updated this one along with the other two, but I neglected to read ahead/totally forgot about the cold front preamble while Fino is fighting for his life under the bed lol, so here we are! Hopefully it didn't uh. Cause confusion for readers not on tumblr lmao

PREAMBLE ASIDE, WHAT'S GOING ON THIS CHAPTER?

🆕 Sibling fluff!

🆕 Blinter fluff!

🆕 CS lore!

🆕 Fiera's doing hot girl soot! (literally)

BETTER focus on the fam helping the cold front figure shit out re: blackouts and power shortages!

NEW Scott/Carol banter because Carol deserves to get a few digs at Scott!

WORD COUNT F A C T S: 2014 -> 4,440k 2017 -> 7,866k 2022-> 15,431k :O

I think last week's angst really spurred me on to finish this chapter. Please accept my humble offering of the main timeline where all the frosts are alive and thawed and nobody is dead, I swear. And as usual, if you find yourself enjoying it, do drop me a line! Send a review my way! Throw a reblog out there! I like to hear what people think! I will talk about these blorbos for DAYS.

#dani speaks #cs updates #crystal springs #long post #the santa clause #the santa clause 3 #fanfiction #chapter update is still pending. will push this through the drafts when the new chapter is OFFICIALLY UP

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donteattheappleshook · 1 year ago

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Stats Tag Game

Thanks for the tag, @kmomof4 and @the-darkdragonfly

Rules: A list of my fics with the most hits, most kudos, most comments, most bookmarks, most words, and the least words.

Most Hits: More with 9,386 hits honestly surprised by this one!

Most Kudos: Playacting with 416 kudos again very surprised lol I didn't know people read this one 😅

Most Comments: She Came from the Water with 236 comments - My baby 🥹

Most Bookmarks: Playacting with 135 bookmarks followed very closely by It Was Only a Kiss with 132 Again surprised by Playacting coming in like a dark horse here...

Most Words: She Came from the Water with 114,132 words! This fic was so special for word count because it was the first time I realized I could write something this long and actually finish it!

Least Words: Technically, my fic with the least words is and Emerald City fic: Knock Knock at 468 words, but my shortest CS fic is Six Weeks with 2,555 I know a lot of words, but concise isn't one of them

Including the ones that @the-darkdragonfly added...

Least Comments: Check Ups with 8 comments I actually really like this one, but it's a short little fluff piece so I get it lol

Least Kudos: Barefoot in the Wildest Winter with 90 kudos A little Christmas fic that was almost (figuratively) torn up and tossed in the trash. Thankfully Kay fixed it. Read my other Christmas fic instead (I say in August) I Don't Want to Wait Till Christmas (To Love You)

Least Bookmarks: Barefoot in the Wildest Winter again with 16 comments and Just Human volume 2 a close second with 17 (I get it, I reread this recently and got mad at my past self for writing something so angsty 💀)

I feel like everyone's been tagged but if anyone hasn't and wants to play please consider this your tag!!

#cs fanfic #cs ff #tag games

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jrob64 · 2 years ago

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Very sweet, funny & festive! I loved all 4 chapters! 💞💞💞

Self Promo Sunday: “Christmas for Pirates”

It seemed fitting to have holiday fic reruns on the Sundays this month, so I’m starting with this four-part Christmas-y fic from back around season four. It could fit into canon anywhere around that point, but is more a series of little domestic snapshots of Emma and Henry including their pirate hero in some modern Christmas traditions in the Land Without Magic.

It can also be found on AO3 if that’s your preference, or it can still be found on ff.net too. (I’ve posted all four chapters here, simply for ease of reading.)

I think that’s enough rambling from me, but I hope you’ll enjoy this older (but possibly new to you) offering from me, and that it brings a smile and a bit of Christmas spirit!

“Christmas for Pirates”

by: @snowbellewells

Chapter One: Tinsel and Twinkle Lights

“Swan! What manner of sparkling material is this?” Emma hears her pirate bellowing from the front room of her new cottage not far from Storybrooke’s harbor. With a long-suffering sigh and roll of her eyes toward the ceiling, she moves to go and discover what her erstwhile boyfriend has gotten into. Knowing that she really can’t fault him for being either oddly concerned or intrigued by everyday things – he is from another century and world – Emma still cannot keep from shaking her head and laughing to herself at his cluelessness. When she re-enters the main room though, she makes a real effort to bite the inside of her cheek and keep a straight face. The poor man is trying to help her decorate for Christmas and appear to know what is going on. However, seeing the marauding Captain Hook with a string of silver tinsel pinched between thumb and forefinger and held away from his body suspiciously, one brow raised in worried inspection, is almost too much for her tenuous composure.

His startling blue eyes rise to study her face, narrowing upon seeing the obvious amusement at his expense that she is fighting to hold in. Clearing her throat, she keeps her voice steady – if barely so – to answer. “It’s called tinsel. We put it on the branches of the Christmas tree. It adds…sparkle,” she elaborates, already expecting his response.

“Bloody ridiculous bit of string,” is his bewildered and half-exasperated retort. “I still don’t understand why the tree goes in the house to begin with, now you would have me believe you strew bits of glitter paper everywhere for sheer entertainment?”

“Pretty much,” she affirms succinctly with a firm nod. In all honesty, she knows she probably has gone a bit overboard this year with the decorations and Christmas festivities, and that it must seem like a baffling waste of time and energy to someone who has never really celebrated the holiday or even seen it practiced. Still, Emma isn’t going to let that stop her. Killian Jones may ask a lot of questions, but his willingness to make her happy, to do all within his power to see that she – and Henry – have anything they could want or need, never seems to falter. She’s grateful for it, and hopes that somewhere in his quest to humor them, her pirate will be won over by the holiday spirit as well.

Keep reading

#self promo sunday #christmas fluff #cs ff #christmas for pirates #snowbellwells #such a talented shipmate #major cs fic rec

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whimsicallyenchantedrose · 11 months ago

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Christmas Reruns 2023 Day 20: The Twelve Sweaters of Christmas

Merry Christmas if you celebrate it and happy holidays if you don’t! One of the things I love about Christmas is watching reruns of all the old classic Christmas movies–Christmas is a big time for nostalgia. A few years ago, I decided to incorporate that tradition into my fandom life and post my CS holiday reruns. So here you go! Enough holiday (mostly) fluff to get you to New Year’s Day. (With a new story posting on Christmas Day.)

Rating: G

Word Count: 1986

Other chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32

Note: This story was written for my “Christmas with Captain Swan” collection in 2020.

Note #2: *facepalm* Somehow when I originally posted this yesterday, I accidentally repeated the text of "The Gingerbread Castle", which was the rerun for day 19. As a result, I have decided to reblog this one, so you get the ACTUAL "Twelve Sweaters of Christmas"

CS Genre: AU

Killian Jones neatly folded what felt like the one-hundredth sweater today, and stacked it on top of the pile. He prided himself on running a clean, neat, ship-shape establishment, and he hated when his clothing went askew.

Of course, given the fact that it was twelve days before Christmas, keeping things neat and tidy was a constant battle.

Killian never would have believed he’d find himself here. He’d had a promising career in front of him. He’d joined the Navy fresh out of high school, determined to follow in his older brother Liam’s footsteps. Liam had been his hero, he’d been brother and father and best friend to him after their mother died and their father abandoned them.

If only he hadn’t had to be a hero to everyone else. When Killian was seventeen, Liam had perished at sea after a terrible storm. He’d sacrificed his own life, saving seven of his crewmates before finally succumbing to the ocean’s fury.

After several months of aching grief, Killian had decided to live a life to make his brother proud. He’d decided to go into the Navy himself. He’d been a natural, taking to the water like a merman, never more content, never feeling closer to Liam than when he was out on the water. Things were looking up.

Unfortunately, tragedies rarely come on their own. When it rains it pours, and all that. Two years into his naval career, Killian got into a catastrophic automobile accident. Not only had he lost his love, his Milah, he’d also lost his hand.

And so he’d found himself alone, his promising career down the drain and with no idea what he was to do with his life.

Killian took a deep breath as he picked up yet another sweater to fold. Such dark thoughts had no place on this beautiful, snowy day, less than a fortnight before Christmas. Suffice it to say, after spiralling for a time, Killian had picked himself up and started on a new venture:

Revenge

He’d come across the clothing store quite by accident. He’d been passing through the small, sea-side village of Storybrooke, Maine one day, and just happened to step into the store. It was intriguing; had something of an edgy, pirate theme to it. It was run by an eccentric man named Edward Teach, who went by the moniker “Blackbeard”, no doubt due to the bushy mass of facial hair he sported.

Something about the store spoke to him, excited him in a way nothing had in months. Perhaps he could run an establishment such as this, combine a theme he was passionate about with goods people needed, and voila! The perfect business venture.

He hadn’t been in the store ten minutes before he’d made a promise to himself: Revenge is going to be mine.

It almost felt like fate the way everything worked out after that. As it happened, “Blackbeard” was looking to retire. Within a month, Killian had used the last of his inheritance from Liam to purchase Revenge and make it his own.

Nearly ten years later it was still going strong. He’d even managed to expand, turn it from something thoroughly niche into something more mainstream--while still maintaining it’s edge and it’s roots.

Revenge was Killian’s baby, and he was incredibly proud of it, and never more so than at Christmas. He prided himself on having everything the discerning Storybrooke customer could want for their holiday clothing needs.

The bell over the door sounded, and Killian looked up to see an angel with soft waves of sun-gold hair, tight jeans and a red leather jacket walking purposely toward him.

More like stomping toward him. The way her green eyes glittered dangerously as she approached proved that she was quite the angry angel.

She was utterly magnificent.

“Lost a bet,” she said curtly. “Point me in the direction of your ugliest Christmas sweaters.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Emma Swan should have known better than to make a bet against Ruby, particularly about something outrageous, and if there was anything Ruby’s clothing choice today was, it was outrageous.

Emma liked Christmas--within reason. Who didn’t like time off and peace on earth and all the holiday goodies you could eat?

But there was nothing reasonable about the sweater Ruby had chosen to wear for her shift at the diner this morning.

Emma groaned as her roommate sashayed out of her bedroom into the shared living room of their apartment..

“Ruby, it’s too early for this,” she groused. “You look like Christmas threw all over you.”

Ruby poured herself a mug of coffee, and then sat opposite Emma on the couch. “Hey don’t knock it. Everybody loves a good ugly Christmas sweater.”

“More like loves to hate it,” Emma muttered.

A sudden gleam came into Ruby’s eye. That really should have been Emma’s first clue to turn and run. Nothing good ever came of Ruby looking at her like that.

“Wanna make a friendly wager on that?” Ruby asked.

“A wager on how many people will hate your clothing choices?”

Ruby rolled her eyes. “The opposite. I bet you I get more compliments today wearing this sweater than I’d get on any other day.”

“How would we even quantify that?” Emma asked. “You usually keep count of the compliments you get?”

“Fine,” Ruby conceded. “How about this: Come into Granny’s on your lunch break and sit in my section. I bet you I get a genuine compliment on my sweater during your meal--totally unprompted too.”

Emma considered it. “What are the stakes?”

Ruby thought for a minute and then smiled. It was not a reassuring sight. “You win, and I clean the apartment for a month. But if I win….if I win, you have to wear an ‘ugly’ Christmas sweater every day until Christmas.”

Emma didn’t even take a moment to consider it. Getting out of cleaning for an entire month? So worth this bet, and it wasn’t like she was going to lose anyway.

“You’re on.”

Later that day when Emma and her partner, Sheriff Graham Humbert, stopped by the diner for lunch, they hadn’t been seated for five minutes before Emma realized she’d made a profound mistake.

“Hey guys!” Ruby smiled at them as she reached their table and pulled out her pencil and pad of paper. “How’s your day going? It’s been crazy around here this morning!”

“Pretty quiet at the sheriff’s station,” Graham said, smiling as he looked her over. “That’s quite a sweater you’re wearing today, Ruby. Very festive; I like it!”

Emma groaned as Ruby shot her a triumphant look. Rookie mistake. She should have known better than to bring Graham with her to lunch. It was obvious to anyone with eyes that Graham had been more than half in love with Ruby for years. She should have brought someone like Leroy to lunch. She doubted that man had ever complimented anyone in his life.

But Emma was a woman of her word. She’d lost the bet fair and square, and pay up she would.

Which is why she currently found herself talking to the owner and proprietor of Revenge.

“Lost a bet,” she said curtly. “Point me in the direction of your ugliest Christmas sweaters.”

The man behind the desk--Killian, his name tag said--grinned at her. “Love, I’d wager the term ugly could never be applied to you no matter what you wear or don’t wear.”

Emma rolled her eyes. The guy was hot, she’d give him that--with his artfully messy black hair, piercing blue eyes and reddish scruff. And all the leather. It really should be illegal for a man to wear that much leather and to wear it so well. Still, Emma was in no mood for being hit on--handsome man or no.

“You’re hilarious,” she said dead pan. “Now about those sweaters…”

He grinned again and then winked. Actually winked. “Hilarious?” he asked, stepping around the corner and gesturing for her to follow him. “I prefer dashing rapscallion, scoundrel.”

Her stomach did not swoop at the way he almost growled that last word. It didn’t!

The fact that she was totally lying to herself annoyed her more than every aspect of this ridiculous bet. “How about you be ‘shop owner who does his job and points the customer in the right direction’? Think you could manage that?”

The rest of Emma’s shopping experience went without a hitch. She grabbed the plainest Christmas sweater she could find--a simple powder blue v-neck covered tastefully with snowflakes.

Maybe Ruby would take pity on her and call her bet paid off if she wore this thing.

Probably not, but one never knew. It was the season of miracles, after all.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The next morning, Killian opened the store as usual, taking a moment to be sure everything was ship-shape before unlocking the doors and turning the sign in the window to read “open”. He glanced over at his “ugly Christmas sweater” display and smiled wistfully to himself.

He’d spent a fair amount of the evening thinking about her, Emma Swan, her credit card had proclaimed. She was beautiful, aye, but there was more to it than that. Though their interaction had scarcely lasted a quarter of an hour, though their conversation had been relegated to Christmas sweaters and the bet that had forced her to purchase one, he had the strangest sense that they were the same deep down, that they were kindred souls.

He was utterly captivated by her.

Killian sighed as he turned on the cash register and checked his supply of cash in preparation for what would likely be another busy day. It was the first time he’d had any meaningful glimmer of interest in a woman since Milah’s death, and he was surprised at how nervous it had made him to interact with her. For probably the thousandth time since yesterday afternoon he mentally kicked himself for not getting her number.

A man unwilling to fight for what he wants deserves what he gets. Liam had told him that five hundred times if he’d told him once.

Well, there was no sense dwelling on it now. Emma Swan had walked out of his life when she walked out of his store, and there was no changing that.

Or so he thought.

Not a quarter of an hour after opening his doors, who should arrive, charging forth in all her wrathful glory than the lovely Miss Swan herself?

Killian grinned at her teasingly. “Back again, love? Couldn’t resist my dashing self, is it?”

She rolled her eyes. “You wish.”

He did. He really, really did.

“Well, Swan, what can I help you with this lovely morning?” he asked.

She looked surprised. “You remember my name?”

Killian chuckled and scratched behind his ear. “I never forget a face, and yours, love, is exceptionally beautiful.”

“Not your love,” she said, but Killian took note of the way her cheeks reddened at the simple endearment. “Anyway, I’m not here to flirt. I’m here for another sweater.”

“Another Christmas sweater?”

“Yeah,” she said with a sigh. “Apparently that blue one with the snowflakes I bought yesterday won’t fulfill my bet. Ruby told me it barely even fit the category. Got anything uglier for me?”

“You, darling are in luck,” Killian said. “Revenge just so happens to stock some of the ugliest ugly Christmas sweaters in the state.”

Today, after a fair bit more banter and pleasant small talk, she’d decided on a red, woolen zip-up cardigan. Featured prominently on the sweater were several applique snowmen playing musical instruments. It was...it was quite something.

“This is actually kind of perfect,” Emma said, trying it on and looking herself up and down in the floor length mirrored column next to the sweater display. “Definitely fits the category, plus it’s a cardigan. I can take it off after I’ve shown Ruby I actually wore it. I’ll just say I’m too hot or something.”

He grinned teasingly at her and wiggled his eyebrows in an exaggerated manner. “You certainly are, love.”

She laughed at that before removing the sweater and setting it on the counter to be rung up. “Do those exaggerated lines actually work on anyone?”

“You’d be surprised,” he answered. “At any rate, they seem to have served their purpose today. You seem to be leaving my establishment in better spirits than you entered it.”

She smiled. “I guess I am. Thanks, Killian.”

He inclined his head. “A lady in distress needs my assistance, and her wish is my command.”

She laughed again. “Alright, well I have to get to work.”

He rang her up and wished her a good day. Just before she stepped out the door, he called out to her again. She turned toward him.

“Any chance I might see you again?” he asked, feeling like a tongue-tied young lad with the lass he fancied.

“With Ruby being the way she is,” Emma said, “probably a really good chance I’ll be back.”

And so she had. She returned the next day, settling on a sweater bearing the visage of The Grinch, the day after, choosing one that depicted all twelve gifts from the famous song, the one after that in her own, colorful words, looked like Christmas exploded in woolen form.

Each day their conversations lasted longer, and each day he fell a little bit more for the lovely Miss Swan. He came to look forward to her visits every day with eager anticipation, mentally thanking whatever brilliant soul invented the “ugly Christmas sweater”.

On the fifth day, Killian managed to unearth a gem of such glittering ugliness and ostentation, he felt the need to pat himself on the back.

“Yep, that’s certainly a disaster,” Emma said grinning at the garment covered in a large Christmas tree, filled with ornaments and a banner along the bottom that read MERRY CHRISTMAS! In huge letters.

“Oh, but love, you haven’t even seen the best part,” Killian announced. “This particular sweater comes with a battery pack.”

She shot him a disbelieving look. “I’m almost afraid to ask, but what exactly does the battery pack do.”

Instead of answering, he turned the device on. LED lights flashed in every tiny ornament on the sweater, and the MERRY CHRISTMAS! nearly had a strobe light effect.

Emma groaned before dissolving into laughter. “This is it. This is the ugly Christmas sweater of all ugly Christmas sweaters. If this doesn’t satisfy Ruby, I admit defeat.”

Killian watched her go that day with more than a little melancholy. What if that was the sweater that would do the trick? What if she didn’t return again?

He needn’t have worried. Emma Swan showed up at his door bright and early the next morning.

His heart leapt at the sight of her. He’d fallen hard and fast for this woman, and he saw no likelihood that would change any time soon.

“What? Even the monstrosity with the flickering lights didn’t satisfy the demanding Miss Lucas?” Killian asked by way of greeting.

Emma laughed. “Oh it did,” Emma assured. “I think I actually managed to render her speechless with that one. It’s just...well my bet was for a different sweater every day until Christmas, and I’m a woman of my word.”

And for that he was profoundly grateful.

So it continued. Each day she came in, each day she bought a sweater, and each day he fell a little bit more in love with her.

When Christmas Eve arrived, Killian noticed a change in Emma’s demeanor almost instantly. She looked...uncomfortable.

“Is something the matter Love?” he asked, brow furrowed.

“No,” she said, drawing out the syllable, “It’s just..well...I’m here to ask you out.”

Killian choked on the sip of coffee he’d just injudiciously taken. “Pardon?”

“Okay, first I have a little confession to make,” Emma said. “Remember that ridiculous sweater with the battery pack around day five or six?”

“Aye,” he said carefully.

“Well, after I wore that, Ruby actually released me from my bet,” she said, looking bashful. “She told me I’d fulfilled the spirit of it or something like that.”

Killian felt the smile creeping over his face. “And yet you continued coming in and making your purchases every day. Whatever for, darling?”

She tried to look stern. “Look, don’t make a bigger deal of it than it is, but, I don’t know. I kind of enjoyed our daily shopping sessions and conversations and all of that.”

His smile grew. “You enjoy my company!”

“Don’t let it go to that over-inflated ego of yours.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, making a cross-my-heart motion over his chest. “And for the record, I have greatly enjoyed our little...retail dalliances...quite a bit as well. Now what was that about asking me out?”

She suddenly looked bashful again. “So the sheriff’s department is throwing this Christmas bash and ugly sweater contest tonight, and I was hoping maybe you’d...I mean, I know it’s Christmas Eve, and people want to spend it with family, and I totally get it if you’re not interested or it’s not your thing or whatever, and don’t feel obligated, but I just thought--”

Killian leaned across the counter and kissed her. “Swan, I would like nothing better than to accompany you to your party. Just tell me when and where.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Ruby watched Emma walk into the diner hand in hand with Killian Jones later that evening. She smiled broadly, reaching over to slap Graham’s arm as he sat beside her.

“Ow!” Graham groused. “What was that for?”

“Look!” Ruby said. “It worked! I told you it would work!”

Graham obediently followed her directions and then grinned. “I can’t believe you talked me into helping you rig that bet just to play matchmaker!”

“I told you!” she said again. “Didn’t I tell you? I knew Killian would be perfect for Emma. She just needed a little push.”

“That she did,” Graham said with a laugh. “Remind me to never doubt you again.”

They watched for a moment as Emma looped her arms around Killian’s neck and the two began swaying gently to the music that was playing.

Who would have known that an ugly Christmas sweater would lead to what was sure to become a romance for the ages?

NEXT CHAPTER->

#christmas reruns 2023 #cs fanfiction #captain swan christmas ff #my fanfiction #the twelve sweaters of christmas

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