#cssecretsanta2020

[snowbellewells]

CS Secret Santa 2022: Gift Fic “Let Nothing You Dismay”

Hello, it’s your running late Secret Santa at last!! This fic is my gift for @zaharadessert , my giftee in the @cssecretsanta2020 event. I apologize that I am so close to the deadline for getting it posted on the 26th, but I have truly enjoyed being your Santa this year. I love your writing and CS fics, and I wanted this to be something you would enjoy in return. (I hope I’ve managed that to some degree!) I wanted a bit of one of them taking care of the other when they couldn’t, several of the side characters you mentioned enjoying, and a bit of post-s6 every day life in Storybrooke we could have seen for CS after their wedding. I also couldn’t resist trying to work in multiple Christmas tress in some way after you shared about that tradition from your real life. I can’t really fuss with it anymore though, so I’m going to put it in your hands and hope it will make you smile.

Merry (day after) Christmas @zaharadessert​ and I’m glad I got to be your Secret Santa!

by: @snowbellewells​ 

Summary: A quick check on the town’s power lines turns into a frightening emergency for Emma and Killian, but their family and friends prove neither of them are lost or forgotten anymore. And that’s not the only surprise this holiday season has in store...

Shivering and futilely trying to keep her teeth from clacking together as they chattered, Emma Swan blew out a worried, frustrated breath and crouched closer before the silent, empty fireplace. It shouldn’t be anything for her to kindle flames within using her magic, but as she stretched her trembling hands stinging with cold - and she feared oncoming frostbite - out toward the hearth once more, not even a fitful spark showed for her efforts.

Her head falling forward, chin resting on her chest, Emma cursed under her breath, feeling her desperation rising, but not wanting to alert her husband to her growing sense of panic. Instead, she gathered a deep, cleansing breath and tried to refocus her energy. Just as Killian often playfully reminded her of himself, they were both survivors, and they would get through this.

A low, pained groan caught her ear, just as Emma had managed to still her racing thoughts, and her breath hitched in her chest, worry clenching her heart once more. Stupid, ridiculous, dashing, selfless pirate, she berated internally as she watched his head toss back and forth on the pillow where it lay. He wasn’t fully conscious, and if she’d had any doubt of that, his moan of discomfort had silenced it; he was too stubborn and tough to have let such a sound escape and concern her if he were fully aware. 

Quickly, Emma stood and moved to his side of the rickety bed, where they had managed to perch his wounded and chilled form, before he had eventually sprawled insensibly, at last unable to keep up the appearance that he was fine. Biting her lower lip, which was becoming increasingly chapped and sensitive from the worried action, Emma reached out to brush what she hoped were soothing fingers over his brow, and nearly recoiled with a gasp from the heat now radiating off Killian’s skin. The dark hair that fell over his forehead was damp with perspiration as she brushed the strands back from his brow, and she felt her pulse kick up at the tremor she could feel running through him.

She was no nurse, but she knew that the dangers of a fever running too high, unchecked, for too long could be too awful to contemplate. Once more, she reached deep inside herself for her magic hoping to curb the fever that seemed to grip her husband, or at least to ease his pain or mend the ankle she feared might be badly broken. As before, however, she could feel the power and warmth begin to gather, start the tingle down her arms to her waiting fingers, then fizzle out uselessly. She wanted to cry or scream, angry at herself for her inability to use magic now when they needed it more than ever, when her True Love needed her so badly. Why was now the time that her power seemed unable to offer any comfort?!?

To think that they were in such dire straits, essentially stranded in the empty hunter’s cabin in which her parents had once weathered a storm as well, Killian unable to go further, the wind howling and snow flying and a winter storm predicted to be coming in, and it had happened through plain bad luck and natural bad weather, not some malevolent villain or fairytale creature or curse. She and her devoted deputy spouse had ridden out to the town line to make sure that all seemed well and that the large power line which had gone down before and put the town in a blackout was sturdy and working normally before any more winter weather came rolling in.

Though all had appeared well out where the large transformer hung and Storybrooke’s power supply was undaunted, the wind had been fierce and gaining in strength with each second that passed by. Concluding that all was as it should be to withstand the onslaught, they had turned to trek back to the cruiser through the rapidly collecting snow when an exceptionally powerful gust nearly knocked Emma off her feet with a whistling howl. She had barely righted herself when she heard a loud, snapping sound, alarmingly like the echoing crack of a gunshot, and Killian had plowed into her, knocking them both back into a snowdrift and landing mostly on top of her.

Spluttering, Emma found herself gripping Killian’s forearms tightly for a sense of grounding, not sure what had just happened. For a second, she was breathless and disoriented enough not to pick up on the tense undercurrent of pain in her husband’s voice or the taut effort at hiding it in his features, only the worry in his wide blue eyes as he questioned whether she was alright.

“I’m fine,” she managed awkwardly shuffling to try sitting up, “but why did you…?” She knew he wouldn’t have bowled her over for no reason, but she still felt a shiver run through her and the question stall in her throat when her eyes caught sight of the enormous tree limb lying in the road near them - right where she had been standing moments ago. The wind had surely broken it loose, causing the noise they had heard, and Killian’s faultless sharp reflexes had saved her from the thing coming down on her head and possibly being crushed.

She lunged forward to embrace him shakily, both stunned and grateful only for the quick movement to cause a hiss of discomfort to escape his clenched teeth and alert her that he had been injured in his heroics.

From there it hadn’t taken long to ascertain that he had done some serious damage to his ankle in his dive to push her to safety and shield her with his own body. And, despite his protests that he had sustained numerous worse injuries and attempts to soldier on, when he had attempted to place his full weight on the injured extremity, he had barely kept from toppling to the ground. With Emma as a crutch at his side, they had managed a few hobbling steps, only to discover that the cruiser would get them nowhere. The downed limb had partially trapped the car as well as blocked the way back to town. The wind and snow swirled around the whole area so much now that it was practically a wall of white they were looking into and there would have been no safe way to stay on the road, even if they could get through.

Rather than freezing to death there on the road or in the stalled vehicle, they had remembered the abandoned cabin and made their way toward it haltingly, but by the time they had reached the rough-hewn porch, Emma was genuinely worried for her pirate. Not only was the pain he tried to mask clearly radiating up his leg and throughout his body with each movement, but he was shaking with the strain, sweating at the exertion in spite of the bitter chill, and with him not dressed nearly as warmly as she was either. Normally it was a playful subject for teasing, just a quirk she had long since accepted as a part of him. However, as he still shivered and quaked despite the hours they’d been inside the cabin, and him under all the blankets she’d been able to find - fire or no - she feared he had taken a chill she didn’t know how to reverse and that he could little afford.

Thinking back on it all, how had the day taken such a frighteningly drastic turn so abruptly? They’d begun the morning with mugs of hot cocoa at their respective desks, soon joined good-naturedly by her father as they discussed what to bring for Christmas dinner and when Henry would arrive home from college.  They’d all three struggled not to laugh at Regina’s affronted tone when she had called with the petty complaint that Leroy and Will Scarlet had tramped through her garden as they stumbled home singing raucously after closing down the Rabbit Hole and damaged her poinsettia plants. How had a day like that brought them here by dinner time?

She ought to be used to such twists of fate, Emma supposed as she crossed to the rough sink, drew a cup of water, and brought it back to force some liquid into Killian and smooth a trail of it down his overheated cheek. Still, life in Storybrooke had been much quieter since their marriage and the Black Fairy’s defeat. Even Rumplestiltskin seemed to have retreated back to his shop and his quiet seething and plotting rather than outright opposition. Seemingly grateful Belle had not left him and to have received a chance to do better by his second son than he had his first - there seemed to exist a tenuous peace with the wily pawnbroker as he mainly kept to himself and his family’s affairs. Was this all her fault? Could she not heal Killian now or transport them to safety because she had let her guard down? Had her powers weakened or gone lax with disuse? 

Not knowing what else to do, while her husband shuddered and a wracking cough rattled in his chest, Emma lifted the covers to slip under them as well and scoot as close to him as she could, enveloping his lean form as much as possible in her arms. She wasn’t sure Killian was even aware of her presence, which ratcheted her concern for him all the higher, but all the same, she held his back to her chest, plastering her form - and, she hoped, any body heat she had to offer - along the line of his form. Squeezing her eyes closed with concentrated effort, she continued trying to call upon her magic, not sure yet why it had seemingly deserted her. Rather than the burning Killian’s skin had given off earlier, he now felt chilled and clammy to the touch, and Emma wasn’t sure which worried her more.

At least they had been on duty, and so Hope hadn’t been with them, Emma mused. Unable to speak with her husband in his current state, and trying to still her nervously spiraling thoughts of what might yet happen, Emma drew some small measure of comfort from the fact that their little girl was cozy and safe out at her mom and dad���s farmhouse. Snow had assured her that she and Hope would be more than happy making and decorating Christmas cookies while the rest of them kept law and order in town. Wistfully, she could picture her daughter and her mother icing cookies with all the perfect candies, sprinkles, and trimmings, singing along to Christmas music in Snow’s perfectly decorated kitchen as they did. It made her smile to picture it, even as a small pang shot through her heart at the thought that it could have been a true childhood memory, if things had been different, if she had been able to grow up with her parents. All the same, she begrudged Hope none of the happiness she could have with her grandparents and was incredibly relieved to know she was with them now.

Killian’s form shuddered violently and Emma held her breath as he muttered gibberish, not knowing anything else to do for him, but to hold onto him tight and try to share her warmth, whisper reassurances and press her lips to the back of his neck, praying he would weather the night with some improvement by morning, or at least that by then she might know what to do. Go for help herself and leave him defenseless? She hated to do it, but he couldn’t languish in this state forever either.

Would David by chance have wondered why they never came back to the station? Could he possibly rouse anyone else to help him in his search, despite the awful conditions? Emma didn’t know the answers to those questions, but she was beginning to place hope in it, even more than she wanted to admit to herself. Killian trembled against her without speaking, and as affectionate, verbose, and always concerned for her above all else he usually was, his relative silence troubled her more than even the injuries she was aware of or the exposure she knew he was suffering. Pulling out her cell once more, Emma glanced at the blank screen hopelessly. She was forever forgetting to charge it and running out of battery. It didn’t usually become a problem, but she was kicking herself now that she couldn’t call for help and let someone know where they were.

Killian’s hoarse voice mumbled fitfully, and she pulled him closer yet, burying her nose between his shoulder blades and breathing in his unique spicy, saltwater scent. She reveled in the closeness and comfort of his presence as she always did - even if the reason for cuddling him so tightly right now was far from reassuring.

“You better hang in here with me, Pirate,” she whispered fervently, her lips brushing his ear as she attempted to speak directly into it. Of course, she wasn’t sure how much he was aware of, but she needed him to hear her, to know she was there beside him, and how much he was needed and treasured. After all he had lived through in centuries and realms of life, an ankle injury and bitter cold surely could not be his undoing. 

She was rubbing her hands up and down his shivering arms, when Emma suddenly thought she might be hearing things - the sound of muffled voices calling out to each other on the brittle air and footsteps stamped through the piled snow on the cabin’s porch. 

Breath caught in her throat, Emma’s heart fluttered wildly with a quickening hope at the possibility, and she was just debating leaving the bed to look out, wondering if she should let cool air in to reach Killian if she did, when the door was pushed in with a familiar shout of her name.

Then all was a familiar blur of overwhelming relief as she practically vaulted from under the covers and across the room to throw herself into her dad’s anxious arms. At that moment, after the worry and uncertainty of several hours with Killian in continually worsening shape, David Nolan’s tall, sturdy bulk felt like an unbreakable bulwark when his strong arms wrapped around his grown daughter, practically lifting her off her feet and hand cradling the back of her head. She could tell by the way she could feel his heart beating quickly through his coat that he had been worried for the both of them - and thank goodness he had.

Emma allowed herself a few comforting moments to bask in the sense that help was there and she was no longer alone. Then she whirled to pull her dad toward Killian babbling to explain all that had happened as she did, almost before it struck her that her father wasn’t alone. Pressing into the small cabin behind David were at least five of her honorary uncles - her mother’s once surrogate family in the Enchanted Forest, Will Scarlet bragging loudly to August that he’d known the old cabin was the place to look first, Sean Hermann, and numerous other friends and neighbors she’d come to know over the last few years. Enough reinforcements that it took her breath away to think all of them had come to she and Killian’s rescue. Now that they’d been found, Killian being just fine didn’t seem such a far off Christmas miracle any longer.

~~~~ * ~~~~

As it turned out, Killian’s ankle was broken, but once he was settled safely in Storybrooke General, checked over by Dr. Whale, the ankle set in a cast, warmth and heat restored to him, and a much more healthy color to his face and awareness in his eyes, things felt much less dire. Dr. Whale and his staff did want to keep the Captain overnight for observation, but it seemed that other than needing to figure whether or not he would be able to manage crutches and how else he might get around while his ankle mended, her husband was well out of the woods.

He livened up even further once Snow arrived with their little girl, and Hope was curled up against his side in the hospital bed, her ever-curious enthusiasm not at all daunted by the sight of her papa in a hospital gown, the cast, or the IV trailing from his arm. Instead she prattled away talking about all the cookies she and Gamma had made - a few of which had been snuck in for her parents to try - and how much fun she’d had decorating the miniature tree she and Snow had brought in with them to brighten Killian’s room. Nevermind that he might only be there one night, it was completely her mother to want to spruce the place up with holiday cheer. 

It only grew more humorous when August arrived just as her parents had settled into chairs, Marco and Granny Lucas in tow, all looking relieved to see them safe and well. August’s crooked grin warned Emma something was up, even before his twinkling, mischievous eyes took in the small sapling Hope and Snow had brought and then presenting the slim, four foot spruce he and Marco had carried in themselves, hidden behind them until that moment. Killian’s rich chuckle added to the ridiculous but healing humor of the situation, as they wrestled the second tree for a one night stay into hospital room that was quickly becoming festively crowded. Granny didn’t hesitate a bit either, dithering over to Killian’s side and reaching across Emma to drape a hand-knitted scarf, as red and striking as Emma’s favorite of her husband’s vests around Killian neck and flicking the end at Hope’s nose as she did. “For you, Captain Jones,” she teasingly scolded with an emotional squeeze of his hand belying her words, “since it seems you don’t have the good sense to come in out of the cold.”

Killian bore the jest with good humor, and just as those visitors had departed, Sean and Ashley Herman with little Alexandra arrived, bearing a blue and white fake tree they swore they didn’t use anymore. After them, Will and Leroy appeared, arguing over who had found it, but bearing a freshly cut garland to drape in the room’s window sill. By the time Smee and some of the other members of Killian’s old crew who still remained in Storybrooke stopped in to pay their respects (and bearing a hidden flask “to ease their former commander’s pain”) it was truly beginning to look a lot like Christmas in Smee’s stunned way of speaking.

By the time Emma and Killian were at last left along again to rest, the room was nearly as bedecked and glimmering as they living room at home with tree and stockings and fireplace all aglow. At some point in all the chaotic celebration and constant stream of visitors, Emma had managed to sneak away from a moment, call Regina and managed to catch her in enough of a decent mood to ask her the question that had begun to niggle the back of her mind as why her magic might have failed to help them that day.

Now that she was snuggled against her husband’s side and he was holding her in return whispering how glad he was to know that she was alright, that they had both weathered the storm and would be home again tomorrow with their little girl and their nearly grown son with them soon, Emma couldn’t hold back what she had learned any longer. 

“Killian?” she breathed, stroking her fingers across his brow gently.

“Aye, Love?” he asked, his voice so low and sumptuous, wrapping around her and warming her insides deliciously. How could she have ever resisted him the way she had once upon a time?

“There’s something you should know,” she murmured, pressing a quick kiss to his mouth and then pulling from her pocket the bit of mistletoe she’d had Snow scrounge up for her. 

His eyebrow quirked up with interest, but he didn’t interrupt, and Emma pressed on. “When you were hurt, and I couldn’t heal you, it was a horrible feeling. My magic wouldn’t work to help us, and I couldn’t call for help. I couldn’t do anything but hope and wonder why my powers were failing us.” She swallowed hard and then smiled shakily, “As it turns out, there’s actually a pretty wonderful reason for that.”

“Is that so?” he asked playfully, chucking her under the chin.

She nodded, barely withholding the grin threatening to spread across her face. “Apparently, when someone with magic is expecting, the changes and shifts in hormone levels and so on, can throw her abilities all out of whack as well. Why I didn’t notice that with Hope, I’m not sure, but…”

Killian’s eyes widened, shimmering not just with surprise and joy but with a swell of emotion too, effectively interrupting her rambled explanation. “Emma….Love…. Are you telling me that we’re expecting another child?”

For a moment, words wouldn’t pass the lump in her throat, so Emma could only nod vigorously yet again, thrilled at the excitement lighting up her pirate’s expression. A minute or so passed and then she managed to add. “Are you ready to add a little Liam David to our brood?”

“Without doubt,” her husband rejoined without hesitation, “but I have a feeling it’ll be a little Lianna Morgan, not a Liam.”

“Really?” Emma cocked her head, playfully trying to convey doubt in his ability to predict their unborn’s gender so readily when all she really wanted to do was left out loud at his antics, kiss him all over his face, and cuddle up at his side to sleep for a week.

“That’s quite the Christmas gift, Darling,” he spoke intently. “Boy or girl, I couldn’t be more blessed. But I can’t help believing that I’m meant to be surrounded by lovely golden-haired angels - a whole house full if I have my way.”

“Flatterer,” she breathed, not sure how else to combat the effect he had on her, even confined to a hospital bed in a flimsy cotton gown. She hoped it never changed.

Despite the frightening turn the day had taken and the close call they’d survived, as he playfully held the mistletoe above them and their lips met gladly, Emma still found herself believing she couldn’t be more lucky if she tried.

Tagging a few others who might enjoy: @jennjenn615​ @searchingwardrobes​ @kmomof4​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​ @laschatzi​ @wefoundloveunderthelight​ @anmylica​ @jrob64​ @apiratewhopines​ @elizabeethan​ @donteattheappleshook​ @stahlop​ @sotangledupinit​ @xarandomdreamx​ @cosette141​ 

#csss2022 #cs secret santa #cssecretsanta2020 gift fic #let nothing you dismay #cs future family fluff #brief Killian whump #ouat holiday one shot #future cs fic

[booksteaandtoomuchtv]

hi im new to tumblr and love ur blog, i rly love captainswan! can u suggest some other captainswan tumblrs to follow? thanks xx

WELCOME, MY DEAR NONNIE.

HAVE I GOT BLOGS FOR YOU...

(I am still fairly new to the fandom so this is not an exhaustive list at all.)

Art @cocohook38 @piinfeathers @wild-werewolf - her Insta is more active and I highly recommend following @pirateswhore

Gifs/Edits @pirateherokillian @killianjonesz @k-leemac @naiariddle Fics/Meta/All the Things/Reblogs For fics, I elaborated at length here and my tag 'major cs fic rec' has many, many other lists that others in the community have done. (I will spare the retag for most of those folks.)

@teamhook @ishoulddefbedoingotherthings @piraterefrigerator @cptainjones @vasfasan @saptaincwan @grimmswan @exhaustedpirate @goforlaunchcee @snowbellewells @killian-whump @killiansprincss @kmomof4 @nachocheese-itsmycheese @anmylica @stahlop @tiganasummertree @jrob64 @djlbg @zaharadessert @xarandomdreamx @hollyethecurious @whimsicallyenchantedrose @elfiola @undercaffinatednightmare - Also has lots of relateable writing things over there @kazoosandfannypacks - Kazzy did OUAT-tober last year and propelled me into the OUAT fandom. Even when she is not doing OUAT things, she is doing amazingly creative things that encourage you to write or create on your own. Crack pairings? She's got them. Meta? Got it. And, it is smut-free and curse-free for those who take that into consideration. @ouatsnark - Doing the good work of defending CS against so much hate Event Pages @cssns @cshistfic @csjanuaryjoy @cssecretsanta2020 @ouattober Listen... I know that I forgot people I KNOW that I did and I am so, so sorry. But, follow them too!!

Oh, and I am so glad you like it here.

#ouat #captain swan #asked and answered #ouat fandom

[eastwesthomeisbest]

When I was kissing on my baby

And she put her love down soft and sweet

In the low lamp light I was free

Heaven and hell were words to me

*************************************************

And my next gift for @donteattheappleshook as CS Secret Santa! ( @cssecretsanta2020 )

🎄❤️🎄❤️🎄❤️🎄

#cs secret santa #cs secret santa 2022 #cssecretsanta #cssecretsanta2022 #captain swan #emma x killian #killian jones #emma swan #killian x emma #emma and killian #killian and emma #captain killian jones #emma swan jones

[donteattheappleshook]

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!

Let me know if you’d like to be added to/removed from my tag list!

@kmomof4 @elizabeethan @the-darkdragonfly  @goforlaunchcee @undercaffinatednightmare @jennjenn615 @dramioneswan @gingerchangeling @gingerpolyglot @batana54 @lfh1226-linda @csalltheway @xsajx @xarandomdreamx @onceratheart18 @ownedbycaptainswan @teamhook @pirateprincessofpizza @lostintheskyfaraway @zaharadessert @thejollyroger-writer @ultraluckycatnd @justanother-unluckysoul @spartanguard @jonesfandomfanatic @deckerstarblanche @jrob64 @klynn-stormz @wefoundloveunderthelight @sailtoafarawayland @tiganasummertree @winterbaby89 @hollyethecurious @stahlop @superchocovian @snowbellewells @xellewoods @sals86 @karlyfr13s ​ @ouatpost ​ @skairipakomtrikru @lonelyspectator12   @anmylica   @alexa-fangirl-forever @inspiredbystardust @marcella2727 @paradiselady19 @koryandr

#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

[kazoosandfannypacks]

I saw this post going around about how there's not a lot of interaction for @cssecretsanta2020 and also @csgiftexchange [hope it's okay that I tagged you guys] between the gifters and their people. I know there's quite a few people who probably feel the same way, so I've decided to make a Captain Swan Christmas Ask Game. Obviously, anyone can participate, reblog, and send asks, but it also might be helpful for those of us who aren't quite sure what questions to ask our giftees.

GIftees, if you want a little more interaction from your secret santa/gift exchanger, (or just other users in general!) feel free to reblog!

Givers, if your giftee has reblogged this, you know have a few ideas for some questions to ask them (and don't forget to reblog it yourself so your giver can hit you up with some asks)

Without any further overexplanation from kazzy: Captain Swan Christmas Ask Game

How long have you been a Once Upon a Time Fan?

Around what point in the series did you start shipping Captain Swan?

Favorite Captain Swan scene?

What are some non-Captain Swan ships you ship?

What are you most looking forward to this Christmas?

How are you doing on your giftexchange/secretsanta gift?

Do you have a favorite holiday tradition?

Favorite Christmas/holiday treat?

Favorite hot drink?

On a scale of 1-10, how much do you decorate/prepare for Christmas?

Got most of your holiday shopping done?

Do you feel like you have a set Christmas aesthetic?

What's a favorite holiday memory of yours?

Favorite Christmas movie?

Favorite Christmas song?

Favorite Christmas TV special episode?

What does Christmas mean to you?

Do you have any Captain Swan Christmas headcanons?

Favorite Captain Swan headcanons in general?

Have you ever participated in this kind of event before?

Favorite kind of Christmas cookie?

A few of your favorite CaptainSwan fic recommendations (either ones you wrote or ones you've read.)

What's Christmas morning like for you?

Do you do any of the holiday cooking/baking?

Do you have any favorite christmas outfits or accessories?

Do you own any OUaT merch?

What's your biggest Christmas wish this year?

What are some of your favorite platonic relationships Killian and Emma have?

What are some of your non-ouat OTPs?

What's your opinion on X [character, story arc, holiday thing, ext.]

Merry Christmas, loves!

#once upon a time #captain swan #killian jones #emma swan #captain swan gift exchange #captain swan secret santa #my inbox is totally open for any of these asks from anyone!

[sotangledupinit]

run, run rogers - My CSSS 2021 Gift

hi there @ilovemesomekillianjones! here’s the fourth and final chapter of my @cssecretsanta2020​ gift to you from last year! thank you for being so understanding and patient (still. because i am the absolute worst!). 

also - this was uploaded to AO3 a few days ago, in case there’s any confusion!

run, run rogers (chapter 4 of 4)

SUMMARY: The last thing Emma Swan expected to be doing on Christmas Eve was last minute Christmas shopping. But Neal’s genius left her in the lurch, and she needs to fix things. And the Uber trip to get this all done? It’ll cost her.

RATING: T for Teen 

CHAPTER WORD COUNT: 5,267 words

TAGS: Captain Swan, Holiday, Uber Driver Killian Jones

AO3

AUTHOR’S NOTE: The muse did not want to cooperate for a few long months, hence the downgraded rating and lack of smut. But! I did finally get to write out my idea for the gift. My giftee @ilovemesomekillianjones​ is so patient and kind about the long wait so a very big shoutout to her (and a day late happy birthday as well)! if you haven’t already read this on AO3, then i hope you enjoy!

***

“Oi! Whaaaz been da hold up?”

Will’s voice is loud as he slurs his holler, taking particular delight from popping the P in ‘up’. His grin is lazy as he hangs half of his body out of the window he’s rolled down in the backseat, arms dangling against the car door. Emma shares a look with Killian, their mouths quirking up at the corner from Will’s antics, and she feels a weight lifted off of her shoulders.

Not completely, no. But Killian’s words have made her feel like she’s not a total failure. It still sucks that she can’t give her kid something completely new to open, something that isn’t what his father just copied, but she can still salvage the holiday one way or another.

When Emma approaches the car, Killian a few steps behind her, she sees the kind of state Will’s gotten himself into. He had clearly sprawled himself out on the seats, laying on his stomach. With the upper half of his body still out the car window, his legs are stretched behind him, feet resting on the door on the other side. She huffs a laugh. As annoyed as she’s been by him half the night, it’s like having a big kid around and her heart yearns for Henry.

She loves her kid and she knows he deserves to have some time with his dad, but she still wishes he was home Christmas Eve, baking cookies with her and drinking their hot chocolate while watching Home Alone and Die Hard.

She senses Killian’s presence before she feels his arm coming around her side and opening the passenger door for her. “You get to be my first mate.”

“Lucky me.” The smile Emma shoots Killian is unlike any she’s given someone in quite a long time. It’s flirty, which is no surprise, but there’s a layer of giddiness to it too. She settles herself in the seat as Killian helps Will back inside the car, a number of grunts and phrases, some of which she’s never heard but no doubt are not for the faint of heart, come from behind her seat and she stifles her laughter until Killian’s in the driver’s seat beside her again.

Her seat suddenly jerks forward and the faint smell of alcohol from Will’s breath makes its way into her personal space. She turns slightly to see his body slumped forward against the back of her seat, his chin resting beside the headrest and his eyes half open.

“I thought you were going shopping?” he mumbles to her.

“I was trying to.”

“Bollocks. Ye’ve got no shopping bags with ya.”

“Scarlet,” Killian cuts in, voice struggling on its precarious balance of amusement and frustration.

“Well yer not doing a good job then, Killian. Where’s the lady’s gifts?”

“Actually…” Her eyebrows furrow together as Killian runs his tongue along his bottom lip in deep thought. Without a word to her or Will, he throws the car in drive and sets off in the opposite direction of the address she told him.

“What are you doing?” If it had been anyone else, anyone but Killian, she’d be frightened. She’d have pulled out her mace by now and worked a means into stopping the car. Instead, she sits patiently in her seat with her head turned in his direction and the seatbelt digging into her neck.

“Try something new, darling. It’s called trust.”

“I do trust you.”

The lack of hesitation takes them both by surprise. Her mouth drops open as she struggles to build off of her statement and Killian continually glances at her from the side. After a few moments, she shrugs shyly and gives him a small smile.

Will mumbles something along the lines of ‘pathetic’ and falls back into his seat, head lolling towards the window as he views the house lights passing them by.

Never before had she said something like that to another adult with such conviction and she didn’t know how to proceed. Emma doesn’t voice her feelings, that’s not the kind of person she is. Their conversation outside of the toy store already left her feeling raw and vulnerable and her words slipped out of her mouth without any filtering. It’s as close as she can come to laying her heart bare.

Her eyes trace Killian’s tongue as it pokes out his mouth to lick his lips.

He glances at her once more before straightening in his seat, flicking on one blinker as they stop at a red light. “I can read you pretty well, love, and I know you’re still disappointed about your lad not having anything new to open tomorrow.” He shifts in his seat again as the tips of his ears begin to turn pink. “I think I have an idea to remedy that.” She practically melts as he softens his tone and finally looks at her. “If you’ll allow me to help?”

The man sitting across from her continues to amaze her.

Emma doesn’t even need to think. She nods her head and says softly, “Yes.”

They drive in silence for a few minutes, Will ooo-ing and ahhh-ing at various Christmas displays before Emma leans forward.

She smirks at Killian as she flicks the music on, an older man singing about jingle bells wafting from the speakers, her mood vastly improved from earlier. It’s not until they pull onto one of the streets on the outskirts of the city, bordering the city center and the suburbs, that she notices Will perk up in the backseat.

“No way, mate. Don’t do this to me,” he whines, suddenly acting wide awake and sober despite the sway to his positioning. Killian chuckles and shakes his head.

“Yes way. You can’t hide forever.”

“I can bloody well try. I’m not going in.”

“Then you can freeze in the car.”

“It’s fucking cold out! And snowing!”

Killian grins wide into the rearview mirror, catching Will’s eye, and lifts an eyebrow as if daring the other man to fight him. “I guess you’re coming inside then. Aye?”

Will grumbles and crosses his arms as he glares out the window until Killian comes to a stop in front of a small section of shops. It’s a part of the city she hasn’t been before. An ice cream shop, wedding store, therapist’s office, pawn shop, and a comic-book store line one side of the street with a police department – not David’s, that much she knows – across the street with a diner beside it.

Emma waits to ask until everyone is out of the car, Will huffing and puffing the entire time. Nearly all of the shops are dark and closed up for the holiday except for the comic-book store which looks to be having a work party. “Where are we?”

“At the wolf’s den,” Will says angrily, shooting a glare at Killian who only laughs in glee.

“Yeah,” Emma starts, glancing wearily between the two of them. “I’m going to need more than that.”

“Come on, love,” Killian says. His prosthetic comes to the middle of her back and she suppresses her shiver from how good his heat feels so close to her. “Trust me, remember?”

“Yes –”

“You really shouldn’t,” Will cuts in, gaze now turned towards the holiday party. “He’s a scoundrel.”

“Bloody hell,” Killian calls from her side. She leans into his chest as he turns towards Will and she pretends not to notice the way his arm slides along her waist, bringing her closer as well. “Weren’t you just trying to wing-man me an hour ago?”

Will waves the statement away. “You don’t deserve my talents. The lass can do better anyway.”

“I beg your pardon –”

“Guys,” Emma cuts in. “My kid. A present. Before midnight, please.”

They grumble at each other before Killian ushers her to the door of the comic-book shop, opening it for her as Will shrinks into his coat, shoulders raised to his ears. He rips his beanie from his pocket and forces it over his head at such an alarming speed that it nearly makes her laugh.

“Captain!” a velvety voice calls out from across the shop. “Thought you were skipping out on us tonight for the cash flow.”

Emma’s not sure what to expect from the voice. Surely, such an attractive sound belongs to an equally attractive person, but nothing could have prepared her for the gorgeous brunette that walks out of the crowd gathered at the back of the store and right towards them.

It’s been a long time since jealousy held a vicelike grip on her throat but the feeling invades the bubble she’s had with Killian all night.

The woman’s legs are shaped by tight red skinny jeans and she wears a green crop top lined with white fur. A Santa hat sits askew on her head, the perfect match for her blood red lipstick. Dark hair rests in waves down her back and her nails are painted such a deep red it could be mistaken for black. The smile she shoots their way is one Emma could imagine a predator wearing. But who was her prey?

Emma chances a glance at Killian and relaxes instantly at the feel of his prosthetic on her back again. The smile he shoots the woman looks so similar to the patient, kind grin he’d given Henry on their rides. In that brief look, she feels all jealousy shrink away. Not that she had any claim to Killian to start with, but if there’s a possibility… “Aye, but I had much more important matters to attend to. Miss Swan is in need of your expertise, Ruby.”

“Miss Swan?”

Emma struggles to find her voice for a moment, feeling as if she’s been pulled in a million different directions. All she can do is fall back on her instinct to fight. “Don’t listen to him,” she insists. “It’s Emma.”

“Aye, Emma is in need of your expertise.” The amusement in Killian’s voice is enough to earn a narrow-eyed look from her over her shoulder, his grin widening in reaction. His teasing starts to bring her back to herself and she finds breathing slightly easier than it’d been a moment ago. With a roll of her eyes, she faces their newcomer again.

“With what exactly?” Ruby inquires.

“A gift for her boy.” Emma’s cheeks heat up as Ruby’s calculating gaze bounces between herself and Killian. “He’s creative. Writes and draws his own comics. Isn’t that right, Swan?”

She nods furiously in agreement, centering herself on talk of her kid. Talking about Henry is always easy for her. Not that she’s biased or anything but he’s the greatest kid around. She tells Ruby as much. “He’s incredible. A creative genius, honestly. I don’t know how he comes up with half the stuff he does.”

“Huh,” Ruby says, eyeing Emma up and down. What the hell? She doesn’t know why but the urge to defend herself – against what, she’s not even sure – crawls up her throat.

“Huh?” Emma echoes, glancing back at Killian who narrows his gaze at Ruby.

“You’re different,” she elaborates, probing even though her sentence already feels like a statement.

“Ruby…” Killian warns. “Don’t start. Get the pages, lass.”

Ruby merely rolls her eyes and scoffs. “I meant it as a good thing.” She steps towards Emma, looping her arm through Emma’s so fast that all she can do is look at Killian with a bewildered expression. “I like her.” The smile she sends Emma’s way once she faces forward again is friendly and warm and Emma feels the feeble defenses she’d built back up at the other woman’s appearance come down again.

They near the party for a moment, a group of only a handful of people surrounded by alcohol and baked goods with a stereo in the corner playing a Kelly Clarkson song and surrounded by more of the string lights, tinsel, and mistletoe that decorates the rest of the shop.

“Killian’s idea is perfect for your kid, if he’s as creative as you say.”

“Oh, he definitely is.”

“How old is he?” Ruby tosses her a look over her shoulder out of pure curiosity. There’s no judgement to be thrown down based on her answer and Emma doesn’t even feel the urge defend herself as she answers.

“He’s 12.” Ruby grins at this and much like Killian, doesn’t question it further and accepts it for what it is.

“Then this really is perfect and I have to admit, Killian’s a genius. It’s right this way,” Ruby says. Her hand gestures to an alcove in the back corner, opposite the party. The lighting is dimmer there and it’s not as loud. Or at least it isn’t until Ruby yells back to where Killian leans against a counter by the door. “Don’t let Scarlet run away! He still owes me $500! I will get my money and if he keeps running, it won’t be pretty!”

“Fucking hell.”

Emma huffs out a laugh. She has no doubt that Will was attempting to escape out the front door or blend in with the party to avoid paying it. Killian’s chuckle drifts over to their area, confirming her suspicions.

Her eyes scan the shelves before her as Ruby detaches herself. “Stay here,” she orders and Emma shrugs. It’s not like she has any other choice.

While she waits, she continues browsing. Henry’s gotten so many comics over the years from herself, David, and Mary Margaret that she can’t even keep track of what he does and doesn’t have. The last thing she’d want is to try to get him something new only for it to be what he already has. It’s that exact line of thinking that’s gotten her into this situation.

Once she bores of that, she makes a quick perusal of the store. Garland circles the shelves and moldings, string lights hanging from the ceiling throughout the store, and mistletoe is placed throughout. Ruby had navigated the two of them through it without needing to look, clearly an expert at avoiding the tradition when not desired, but the rest of the party on the other side of the store takes glee at the catching each other underneath it.

A particularly loud cheer diverts her attention over to them, watching as two of the people gripe and groan, making a big deal over it before engaging in a short kiss amidst the cajoling party. A flash of black captures her gaze.

Killian’s made his way over to the party. He stands on the edge of it and laughs as a man in a Santa dress suit with a red velour top hat places a Santa hat on his head to match the rest of the store’s occupants. Will slinks between the other party-goers, snatching snacks from the tables around the area and grabbing a plate of lasagna someone abandoned atop a display.

She can’t stop the smile that grows on her face as Will gets slapped in the back of the head by one of the women there, her fierce attitude clear in her reprimanding as Will shrugs his shoulders and offers excuses. Killian’s shit-eating grin at the scene is hard to miss, especially as Will sighs in defeat and pulls out his wallet, and as he takes a swig of his water bottle, Killian catches her eye.

Her breath hitches in her throat and she finds it hard to swallow. It’s like there’s an electric current dancing along a wire connecting the two of them, tingling her skin beneath the surface. Her eyes follow the sight of his tongue as it sneaks between his lips to catch the water residue. He clearly swallows and when her eyes drift up his face to meet his, she sees the black of his pupils swallowing the blue coloring.

“Got it!”

Emma jumps at the sound of Ruby’s voice and turns quickly.

“Need a minute?” Ruby teases, raising an eyebrow and tilting her head in Killian’s direction. Emma swallows and shakes her head.

“Sorry, what do you have?”

Ruby takes one of her hands from behind her back and offers a Santa hat out to her. Emma eyes it, popping an eyebrow in question. “Uh, I am not giving my son a Santa hat for Christmas.”

“No, the hat’s for you.”

“I am not wearing a Santa hat. I just want to get a gift for my kid. If you can’t help out then –”

Ruby rolls her eyes and thrusts the hat towards her. “Don’t be a grinch. Have a little Christmas spirit – it won’t kill you. Wear the hat, then you’ll get the gift.”

The two of them stand in a stare-down for a few moments until Ruby smirks and tilts her head, pride already making its way onto her features before Emma even concedes.

She knows that Ruby means business. Her confident swagger nearly fills the store and Ruby knows just how desperate she is. With a frustrated sigh, Emma hastily grabs the hat from Ruby’s hand and shoves it on her head, frowning. “There. Now the gift?”

“Thanks for playing along,” Ruby begins, her voice taking on the tone of a game show host announcing the grand prize. “For that, you will receive…”

Everything else Ruby is saying fades to the background as she reveals what she’d been hiding behind her back.

Five packages of blank comic panel pages, each package representing different, commonly used templates for comic-books. There’s nearly 200 pages total in her hand and Emma could practically cry at how perfect the gift is. Her son – her incredibly brilliant and creative son can actually create his own comic with ease.

“I didn’t even know anyone made these,” she whispers in amazement, her hands gently, hesitantly, shakily, taking the packages from Ruby.

“I’m not the one you should thank.” Ruby’s smile is pointed yet gentle as she gestures over the Killian. A quick look over her shoulder and Emma sees the way he’s half listening to the conversation at his side between Will and the woman from before. Instead, he keeps trailing his eyes back over to her and even from afar, she notices the vested interest etched in the way his eyebrows lift as he watches them.

Ruby’s voice breaks her gaze.

“How did you guys meet?”

“Uh,” Emma starts before she shakes her head. “He’s my Uber driver, actually.” Ruby remains unconvinced and unsatisfied.

“Really? Just your driver?” She points her deep red nails, gesturing between Emma and Killian as their eyes catch again. “That’s what you’re going with?”

The half-shrug that comes from her lifted shoulder is sheepish. Heat rises to her cheeks and Emma feels as if she’s been transported back to middle school talking about her crush at a sleepover. Not that she did any of that, but she imagines this must have been what it felt like.

“Well… he was just my Uber driver. Now I’m not so sure.”

Ruby offers her an encouraging smile and grabs a bag from behind the counter as they leave the area. When Emma twice tries to pay, Ruby brushes her off. “My little Christmas gift to you,” she says. There’s no pity or guilt in Ruby as she says the words and Emma struggles to say anything other than a cracked thanks.

People always wanted something in return. Nothing is done for free. If someone offers you something, it’s because they want you to owe them a favor or they’re using you to assuage their own guilt.

At least, that’s the take Emma had before the start of the night.

Then Killian gave up a night of potentially heavy cash flow and became her… friend. Now Ruby is joining the ranks too, helping her make Christmas special for her kid. If she hadn’t met Killian, she’s sure her pride would’ve been a lot harder to swallow to accept such a gesture.

When they make it to the party, Ruby rushes over, pulling the hand belonging to the woman who gave Will a dressing down, and steps under the mistletoe. “Merry Christmas, Mulan,” Ruby whispers. The party start a cheer, noisemakers and chants of ‘Kiss! Kiss!’ filling the store. Emma meets Killian’s eye between Ruby and her lover and they share a grin before the kiss blocks them from each other.

Ruby eventually detaches herself from the kiss and introduces Emma to her fiancée Mulan. Between the two of them, they convince her to stay an extra half hour so she can enjoy the party.

“You can always join our poker game tonight too,” Mulan offers. Her face gives nothing away but there’s something in her voice that tugs at Emma’s warning bells.

“Babe,” Ruby says with a sigh. “We’re trying to make a good impression on Killian’s… friend. We can’t do that if you’re robbing her blind.”

“She’ll count every penny too!” Will adds around a mouthful of cheesecake. “Stole $350 from me wallet already tonight.”

“You owed me that.”

Ruby cuts in, “Wait, you paid her but you still haven’t paid me?!”

“You’re practically married, it’s all the same now!”

“Actually –”

“So,” Mulan cuts in, drowning out Will and Ruby. She compromises, eyeing Emma with a calculating gaze. The woman reminds her of a general in the army, observing the enemy and coming up with at least three strategies to ensure their defeat. “I’ll give you a month. Expect an invite. Bring enough cash not to disappoint.”

Before Emma can accept or decline the invitation – though she has no clue what answer would’ve come out of her mouth – Killian appears at her side. “Bloody hell, Ruby. I leave you to warm up my car and you’re already letting your fiancée take Emma for all she’s worth?!”

There’s no malice in his voice, just a thinly veiled teasing tone, and Emma suppresses a grin at the eye rolls and groans from his reprimand that fill their small group. “I guess that’s my cue,” Emma says instead, backing up. “You coming, Will?”

Will shakes his head. “I’m going to give these lovely ladies the privilege of my presence on their couch tomorrow morning.” His wide grin breaks at the slap on the back of his head from Mulan, but neither her nor Ruby do anything to stop Will.

Wishes of merry Christmases fill the room and soon enough, Emma and Kilian find themselves heading towards the shop’s exit.

“Do you think he’ll like it?” The gentleness of his voice, the care in which he takes with her mission, lights a fire in her chest.

Her smile is wide even if her voice is quiet and soft. “Thank you. Seriously. It’s going to blow his mind.”

Killian’s response is cut off by loud cheers and chants of ‘Kiss! Kiss!’ They both turn a curious glance over at the crowd, ready to see who the latest couple caught by the random sprig of mistletoe is, only to find the crowd already staring back at them. Her head slowly tilts back and her mouth drops open, dumbfounded.

It feels fated, almost, the way that she’s found herself under the mistletoe with the one man who’s been able to turn her world inside-out in just a night. The universe is pushing them together and for once in her life, she agrees with it.

“Please,” Killian scoffs, addressing the group. It becomes clear to her quickly that he’s trying to give her an out or a reason to jump. His statement offers her the choice and that’s what does it. Well, that and his next sentence leave no other option for her competitive side. “She couldn’t handle it.”

Then he turns to her with that wide, victorious smirk and she wishes to wipe it right off his face, the smug bastard. No matter the choice she makes, he still wins. So she does the only logical thing to do in the situation.

She lays the bag with the comic pages on the display stand behind her. Her eyes remain locked on Killian’s the entire time and she can tell that he’s itching to swipe his thumb across his lip.

Then her resolve crumbles to nothing and she grasps the lapels of his leather jacket and tugs him forward.

Their lips meet in a slow, hesitant kiss despite the passionate start to their embrace. The moment Emma sighs, relaxing slightly as her mouth remains pressed against Killian’s, Killian takes advantage. He moves with confidence and familiarity. The taste of his mouth is new but the way his fingers tangle in her hair feels like his hand is always supposed to cradle her head there.

It’s exhilarating and intoxicating all at once. The sounds of the party fade to nothing and the only thing she can hear other than her racing pulse in her ear is the way Killian sighs and groans as they kiss. It’s delicious and tempting and she wants it to stay imprinted on the forefront of her mind.

The spell is cracked, not broken, when they pull apart.

Emma’s left in a daze, not registering a single moment of their final goodbyes before she’s buckled back up in Killian’s car and waiting for him to pull away from the curb.

Despite their bubble splintering at the store, a crackle of electricity, a simmering heat, still rises beneath the surface. It’s so palpable she can almost taste it. She can’t let him leave her yet. Not without another taste. Especially when he looks so unfairly good in the Santa hat bestowed on him at the store.

Killian starts their route to her place and Emma can’t bear to say goodbye to him when they pull up. Her mind flitters to the to-do list she wrote that morning and all the things she needed or should be doing for the holiday. The few remaining gifts she had to wrap, the food she had to prepare for tomorrow, and the cookies left unmade. All of the ingredients in her cabinets are new and purchased for a single holiday. She’ll never get through all of it by tomorrow.

Swallowing hard, Emma turns in her seat and looks at Killian. “What’re your plans for the rest of the holiday?”

He licks his lips before he answers, his mouth as dry as hers suddenly feels. “Just heading home to watch a few films on the telly.”

“How do you feel about making sugar cookies?” It only takes a moment for the question in his gaze to disappear, giving way to a bright grin. Her heart flutters at the sight and instead of fretting, she lets out a deep breath and relaxes her shoulders.

The house is warm when they enter. Henry’s new gift is placed aside to be wrapped once the cookies are in the oven. Their fingers linger longer than necessary as they help each other tie their aprons, a twinkle in Killian’s eyes as he raises an eyebrow when Emma’s hand slides a little too low once she’s finished.

“Fair game,” is what he whispers to her as he trails his hand up her side before tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. He leans down to place a soft kiss on her lips only for them to lose themselves in the action. Their Santa hats fall to the ground, not that either of them notice. The slight flour that got on Emma’s hand from pulling down ingredients before now runs a white streak through one side of Killian’s hair and he returns the favor once they actually start cooking.

She gets mesmerized by the way he uses his stump – brace off and arm washed clean – to knead the dough better than she’s ever been able to. It takes a near monumental effort to concentrate on the cookies and not what else he might be capable of.

That only lasts until the cookies are in the oven and the timer is set, Henry’s gift laying unwrapped where she left it as Killian proves just what he can do.

They trade lazy kisses once she finally gets around to wrapping Henry’s new gift. Neither of them attempt to repress the smiles that bloom on their faces and it’s the most at peace Emma has felt in possibly her entire life. The only thing that’d make the moment even better, she thinks to herself, would be if her kid were with them.

Perhaps it’s coincidence or luck. Or maybe Christmas magic, as hard as it is to believe, actually does exist. Because it’s not a moment later when, at 11:43pm Christmas Eve night, her phone rings.

“Hey, Mom?” Henry whispers once she picks up.

“Henry?” The hairs on the back of her neck raise in alert and she sees Killian’s posture straighten from beside her on the couch. He makes a quick move to pause Miracle on 34th Street.

“I’m okay,” her kid starts but Emma only feels a small bit of tension leave her shoulders. “I just… I miss you.”

Her heart lurches at his words. “I miss you too,” she whispers back and wills her eyes not to tear. It’s been a long time since they’ve been separated like this but time doesn’t make it easier. “How was your night, kid?”

Henry huff’s out a laugh. “Thanks for the gifts, I know they were your idea. Also, I’m pretty sure half of this stuff is actually his.”

She joins in his laughter with a quick snort of her own. “I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“Yeah…” He pauses and Emma leans back into the couch. Killian raises an eyebrow in her direction as he wraps an arm around her and she merely shrugs. She guesses Henry just wanted to talk. “It doesn’t really feel like Christmas here. Not without you. Can you pick me up? I want to come home.”

“Oh Henry,” Emma whispers again. She makes quick work of the tear that manages to escape and nods her head before she realizes that he can’t see her. “Of course. It’ll take me ten minutes to get there. Start packing up and wake your dad to let him know, okay?”

“Thanks, Mom. Love you.”

“I love you too.”

The moment after they hang up, Emma turns towards Killian and pulls him into a tight embrace, allowing only a few more tears free – the last thing she needs is to let Henry know how emotional their conversation got her.

“You’re right,” she mumbles into Killian’s neck. His hand and stump hold her closer and she feels every worry leave her body with a few strokes.

Killian was right. For as much as she focuses on the material things of the holiday, Henry doesn’t care about the gifts. She’s given him a home, a place of comfort and memories, and that’s what he wants this year. It’s nothing that Neal can provide him and Emma knows that just turning on their Christmas tree and watching Home Alone will be enough.

She glances at the gifts stuffed under the tree in their living room, especially the special new addition, and grins to herself.

The presents don’t hurt either.

Killian helps her to stand as she explains the situation. She can see the offer of a ride sitting on the tip of his tongue but his desire to not overstep holding it back. For most of the night, he’s been making the effort and opening up first. So this time, she resolves, it’s up to her.

With her hand out as an offering, she asks, “You willing to give us a ride?”

He grins wide, leaning down to give her a kiss. “Ride accepted.”

#run run rogers #captain swan #killian jones #emma swan #will scarlet #ruby #ilovemesomekillianjones #cs fanfic #cs ff #captain swan fanfic #captain swan ff #holiday fic #cs secret santa 2021 #csss 2021 #my fics

[cosette141]

Thank you!!

Thanks to @cssecretsanta2020 @csgiftexchange for all of your hard work organizing BOTH of these events yourself! We appreciate you so much, thank you for doing this for everyone! I hope you have a wonderful Christmas!! <3 <3

#thank you! #csss2022 #cs gift exchange 2022 #<3

[their-seafaring-ways]

Hey @kazoosandfannypacks I was your secret Santa this year. It was lovely getting to know of your likes and dislikes to write this. I can only hope that I managed to incorporate them in this work. Additionally, thank you for being so kind a patient especially with the delay in this being up.

(Santa grants you 50 years on the nice li-

Oh wait, I can't do that anymore c r a p-)

I can't forget to thank @superchocovian now can I. You've been so integral to this work- it wouldn't have been here without you. You've helped me become better as a writer- asking the right questions, providing me suggestions in places that have alluded me. You are truly a godsend. Thank you!

Last but not least @cssecretsanta2020 thank you for hosting one of my favorite events year after year!

Now without further ado...into the work

REFLECTIONS [1/3]

If you wanna read it on ao3

Summary:

A threeshot where each chapter follows one of our dynamic duo and then them together. As they disect/accept/acknowledge their growing feelings through 3 events of their lives. Warning. Heavy. Canon. Divergence.

Chapter 1: Emma

When Emma had jumped into the water, she hadn't expected to be knocked out, sinking to the bottom of the seabed like a weighed down bag of bones. Drowning- not just in the sea but as a passive prescence in her own thoughts of despair- poetic.

She wasn't ready to be a fossil lost to time, or ashes that blew into the wind settling into the sands of the places she'd once traversed. She had goals and retribution to enact- a pisssed off mother trying to find her son, ensuring that both Greg and Tamara would be held accountable for the pain, misery and loss that they had inflicted on not only her, but her friends and family.

If Emma had been physically conscious, she would've emoted shock in an uncharacterizable way. Her participation in the constant stream of her (warlock council meeting- as Henry liked to call it) posed the question "How was she able to observe her thoughts as more than just a sentient being?"

Emma had never heard of such a phenomenon (especially in her curent state of being) knowing her luck it was probably something magical...or the knock on her head from the anchor- more like the former in Henry's eyes.

Henry, her son, was a staunch out of the box believer- extremely imaginitive- capable of bringing ANYTHING into the realm of possibility. Emma herself, funnily enough, was the exact opposite. However, Henry in another one of his operations  had opened her up to Storybrooke and it's wacky magical shenanigans (as he put it)- Daring her, to try and pretend as though none of it was real. If she presented her back to magic, he patiently waited for her to face it...the magical world, the world most of her family was from- her world.

Cold, hard facts were all that Emma had and prioritized as she hit the cusp of adulthood. The belief and hope that had manifested in her as a child- a mere memory. To be fair, the world had turned its back on Emma first, she'd tried to survive, to hope, to believe- only to reap the ashes of a failed harvest. So she turned her back to it- tales of magic, pixie dust, happy endings, all dust in the wind.

Countless heartbreaks, tough decisions and morphing perceptions had all culminated and reached their peak, finally settling when she'd become a bailsbond's woman. Cut and dry facts, were something Emma had handled professionally during her career- after all they were all she believed in then- stats didn't lie. Existence- proven with evidence and factuality. 

However then, she hadn't realized, hadn't had an eye opener, until she was in the midst of a new perception following her change of worlds. Suddenly, it was no longer facts, they didn't make sense...how would she be able to explain flying with pixie dust factually? As Henry would qoute it "facts were for the unimaginative" (a qoute Henry cited A LOT or everytime Emma refused to accept something magical).

Emma, could only hope that Henry was alright, his belief continuing to shine through- not just in himself and magic, but in Emma and their family too. While, unadulterated imagination didn't run through her veins. Emma had just enough pixie dust within her to find her son- like he'd found her once upon a time, and bought her back to her family- home.

Emma, WOULD make it out of here alive. She WOULD find her son. She WOULD take him to Granny's for hot cocoa with cinnamon, once all this was done and dusted. With that her determination was back- pushing against the walls of her lax muscles, willing them to swim up to the surface. A splash- akin to one that an individual would make when diving into the waters below, distracted her. Hope colored Emma's heart- the fighting had stopped, they had worked together.

As she was pulled out from the now settling waters - she knew. Together, they would find Henry.

__________________________________________

A couple hours after the incident and one impassioned speech later. The group was off into the wilderness, Hook being their personal GPS- chaos. It was as though her companions had forgotten all about 'working together'- Regina and Snow spouting off into a debate on the usage of magic, David discrediting Hook's navigational skills- All. Too. Much.

Hot Jungle, 3 hot headed individuals and she couldn't do anything but emit a faint "stop" as she was suddenly hit with a phantom kick to her stomach- walls of hot air trapping her in their gasp. She struggled to breath, falling behind the bickering group as the fanning flames continued to consume her. A skull splitting ache threatening to pull her apart as she finally fell to her knees clutching her throbbing head.

Hook was the only one to notice, pulling out of David's chokehold- catching her just before she face palmed into the dirt. David, who had followed close behind Hook, shouted out, alerting both Snow and Regina. The last thing she felt before she was consumed by the darkness was Hook- gentle taps on her cheeks, a spritz of liquid on her face (perhaps rum- she could really use some rum right now), and a gentle hand pressing into one of her pulse points before she was lifted off the ground.

And so a camp was set up, as Emma convulsed under the images that flashed though her mind- Gold and Neal finding Henry. Pan- A prophecy. Alienation- Neal captured- Henry smiling, dancing along to the lost boys tunes- agony.

To the last one she startled awake. Henry's name on her lips amidst the faint music richotching of the walls of her head. Scrambling out of her sleeping bag and out of the tent, she collided into Hook. Firewood cascading onto the ground, as she fell upon him, a rushed appology on her lips- pausing, as she was arrested by the concern in his eyes.

Concern- far and few given through her journey of life- pity, a more common occurrence, one she loathed with every fibre of her being. She wasn't helpless, sure the circumstances of her life weren't the best- still, capable of pulling through. Utilizing the resources given to her- earning her place and keep.

Everytime she was bought back to the foster home- pity. As a teen alone, at the foster home for a couple months- pity. When she'd acted out against her bullies as an 16 year old- pity.

Pity had motivated her to leave, to take her chances out on the streets, make herself a living, where no one knew of her past. Eyes passing over her, uninterested and unbothered- seemingly like everyone else. She'd felt joy- for a breif moment she wasn't a young girl pitied for the hardships of her life. She was Emma Swan and she was gonna make a fresh start that wasn't shrouded by pity.

Hilariously enough, the struggles were endless and to survive she had to resort to a life of crime- scavenging turned to robbery finally leading her to him- Neal. It had been relatively uncomplicated (for one accustomed to the life of crime) and she had fallen hard.

She recalled one night in June, weeks after they had met, when they'd laid their hearts bare to each other- promises made as they helped each other tend to the wounds of their past. She still remembered the soft look of concern in his eyes as she spoke of her parents- it felt right. Finally, Emma had somebody, until she didn't- betrayal (17, pregnant in jail, nowhere and no one to call home).

Seeing, the same look of concern in Hook's eyes scared her-he saw through her. Whatever, was between them (this charged electricity that shook her to very core) needed to die. She NEEDED to get away, she couldn't face this again- too soon. Her son, was all that mattered. With that she quickly pulled away from Hook, half stumbling away, running off towards the tree line.

Leaving behind a startled Hook and the receding shouts from her parents. He hadn't called out for her. He had let her go. He hadn't questioned her actions- he just knew. And she appreciated that just as much as she was unsettled by it.

___________________________________________

Following her retreat into the woods, Emma had found sanctuary at a lake -thick barks and canopies of leaves shrouding her from prying eyes. In this sanctuary, Emma had time to process the events of the past few weeks and her nightmare. Something in Emma (perhaps the magical part of her) protested against Emma writing off the sequences of images as nightmares. They seemed too vivid- senses all attuned, to be a nightmare, too real- like she was trapped in a bubble watching it all happen.

Perhaps, it was the stress of the recent weeks catching up to her. Perhaps there were others that had these kind of 'nightmares'- overthinking. Emma could only hope that they weren't real. She couldn't deal with him being alive- pain, misery, hope, betrayal, a knife STILL cutting in deep. She was hoping he was dead- the sting of half healed wounds. She wanted to move on, leave that part of her life and pain in the past- she couldn't. Sometimes, she wished she'd never met him but if she hadn't she wouldn't have had Henry- her precious ball of joy. Henry- the lost boys- Oh God, she really hoped that her son wouldn't loose hope in her and his family.

Worst of all she couldn't catch a break- the chorus of mockery from her own insecurities shined bright-

"You really shouldn't have abandoned him then." The voices of her mind cackled.

"I was trying to give him his best chance." Emma whispered back.

"By what? Resigning him to a similar fate like yours- alone, unwanted, forever wondering why his parents never wanted him." They ruthlessly screeched back, tearing open healing wounds.

It was the last one that broke Emma, she never had wanted to do that to Henry- she couldn't have raised him- no job, fresh out of prison, no roof atop her head, just a car in her name. How could she have raised her son in an environment like that- he deserved better.

As, the fresh drops of tears graced her cheeks, a leather coat was gently placed atop her shoulders- sheilding her from the quickly declining temperatures. From just his presence she knew it was Hook- he stood there behind her, two bowls of soup in his hand- reflected in the water.

Waiting- to see if she wanted him to leave or stay- silent understanding reverberating through the air. She didn't want to be alone- not right now. She knew he wouldn't judge, or pity her- she needed that right now- someone, to be there.

Pulling his coat tighter around her shoulders, she made a decision. The coat- an anchor, grounding her in place despite the sea of crashing waves. She slipped her hands through the sleeves of his coat- the soft comforting leather sliding across her skin. It smelled of him- rum, old spices, salt and something so undeniably him. She watched his reflection in the water- slivers of her skin disappearing into his coat. Perhaps, she was a bit tired of fighting this attraction- sly heated glances, rising tensions and an invisible string tugging her to him. She'd never felt an all encompassing attraction like this before- watching him watch her. His heated eyes following the motions of her limbs- the places where his coat hugged and fell of the curves of her body.

With a slight smile crossing her face, she leaned her hand out behind her- towards him- all innuendo out the window. Enjoying the slight flush of his skin and the darkening of his eyes- coat sleeve falling to her elbow revealing her forearm. A slight gulp as he followed the motion of his coat sleeve.

Quickly blinking out of his reverie, he handed her the soup. Fingers brushed the sensitive skin of her wrist- intentional- eyes blazing. Teasing him, seemed to be slowly becoming one of her favorite things to do.

Realization- bought awareness to the dried tracks of her tears- sticky upon her skin and the warmth of the soup in her hands. As if sensing the melancholy direction her thoughts her where about to take- he moved closer until he was just a hairsbreath away from her. He bent down doing up the buttons of coat- no, not sexually but with care and respect for her and her state of being.

"I'm not expecting anything from you Swan." He said as he did up the last button.  "I'm just here to support and listen to you love- I know that you're afraid and if you want me to go, I will. But I'm always here for you Emma, you and Henry both- You will find him, I know you will." he continued his eyes boring into her- sincerity and belief. It had been a long time since anybody had looked at her like that- belief strongly reflected in their eyes (the last being her son)- she took his hand in hers, gently tugging him to sit next to her- knowing he would understand her silent invitation.

So they sat, side by side watching the starry sky and the waning moonlight reflected across the waters- firefly light lighting up their faces, the soft chirp of grasshoppers and later the steady beating of his heart lulling her to sleep. Before he nodded off, he'd tell her that he'd never seen so much life in Neverland before- perhaps she was bringing the magic back to this place.

As the early rays of sunlight hit her face, Emma awoke, free of nightmares and the best night of sleep in the longest time. She was aware of her closeness with Hook, taking in all the places they touched, his mused up hair and the softness of his features in sleep.

Pulling away the hand that reached out to trace his features, she carefully extracted herself out of his grip. A faint twinge of regret pulling on her heart strings as she neatly folded up his coat, took the bowls and left him behind at thei- HER sanctuary.

When she saw him a couple hours after sunrise, there was a flicker of sadness in his eyes but he, as always, understood. Giving her the space she needed- eyes still following her- itentions clear as day.

So she avoided him until the nightmares got too uncomfortable to bear, finding him again at their sanctuary- the lake.

___________________________________________

A final note: Thank you for reading. Stay safe and happy :)

PS: I loved writing this fic, so thank you for giving me the opportunity to do so *does a low bow*

#captain hook #captain swan #killian jones #emma swan #once upon a time #csss2022 #chaotica

[snowbellewells]

CS Fic Rec Monday: “It’s A Hell of a Christmas” by: @whimsicallyenchantedrose

Okay, so I know that this fic was written for @cssecretsanta2020​ by Jennifer, as a gift for @anmylica​ so I’m a bit late recc’ing it this week. But I finally got the chance to sit down with it this weekend, and I devoured all four chapters in one sitting yesterday. Needless to say, I wanted to take the chance to sing its praises. There is angst and whump galore here, and plenty of delicious hurt/comfort too (which I can never resist! ;) but despite the pain of Killian remembering the holiday he spent in the Underworld and how unworthy he felt of the rest of them coming and risking their lives to bring him home, because it is @whimsicallyenchantedrose​ you can bet that she makes the pain worthwhile in the end and brings it all to a beautiful, healing and fulfilling conclusion.  I loved what she did with different supporting characters (particualrly how she used David and Liam) and how Killian got the chance to see what a profound difference he has made - for the better - in Emma’s life, and several others’ lives as well.

**I attempted to make some cover art for it as well, @whimsicallyenchantedrose​ - hope you like it!**

“It’s a Hell of a Christmas” by: @whimsicallyenchantedrose​ 

Also, I happened to hear randomly this morning as I was heading into work something about today being National Pie Day? I’m not sure this is accurate, but I’m going to hope so, because while I am recc’ing Jennifer’s work already, I have to mention one of my more typical fun and fluffy offerings perfect for the apparent holiday - “The National Pi Day Meet Cute” (Enjoy!!!  Like real pie, it’s absolutely delcious, but unlike real pie, this fic is completely non-fattening! <3)

#cs fic rec monday #csfrm #it's a hell of a christmas #cs 5b divergent ff #cs angst #cs christmas fic #major cs fic rec #such a talented shipmate

[eastwesthomeisbest]

Merry Christmas from Swan-Jones Family

Merry Christmas @donteattheappleshook I am your Secret Santa in the @cssecretsanta2020 event!

Here's my first gift! Hope you like it! ❤️

#cs secret santa 2022 #cssecretsanta2022 #cssecretsanta #cs secret santa #captain swan #emma x killian #killian jones #emma swan #killian x emma #emma and killian #killian and emma #captain killian jones #emma swan jones

[killiansprincss]

Feels like Home CS Secret Santa 2022

Happy Holidays @randomartistwhodoesnothing I'm your Captain Swan Secret Santa! It's been great fun these past few weeks, I really hope you enjoy this Modern AU! @cssecretsanta2020

 Also on AO3

Summary:

Emma Swan hated coming home for the holidays from College for three reasons, one being bumping into her ex boyfriend.

When her brother invites Killian over for Christmas Dinner, will old flames reunite or will feelings of hurt and anger over how things ended resurface?

____

Emma Swan hated the holidays and coming home from college for them for 3 reasons:  

Firstly; Growing up in the foster system for the first 13 years of her life she never experienced a Christmas like all the movies, it was either crappy group homes where nobody cared about these kids and how they had no family and nobody to care about them, they didn’t even cook a Turkey. Or the one Christmas she was fostered but they made it so obvious they wanted the money as they made no effort with her and instead smothered their real son with presents galore.  

Secondly: Coming back to Storybrooke, Maine. The only place she considered home was great. But when you’re in college and have no money and get by on coffee and 2 hours of sleep and you see everyone you went to high school with, celebrating their successes wasn't the easiest, especially when Emma was now in her Junior year and still hasn’t figured out her major. 

And Third, and kinda going hand in hand with the second reason: being back in your hometown was the worst when faced with your ex boyfriend. 

Killian motherfucking Jones. 

She would recognise his black leather jacket wearing ass and Jet black hair from a mile away. Still with the same smirk he had after he kissed her for the first time at her 18th birthday.

“Swan. Nice to see a familiar face around.” 

They dated for less than six months before they went separate ways to college but they were actually friends for years. And compared to her last shitty relationship, Killian was actually a really decent boyfriend.

“Jones. Nice to see even the Big Apple pales in comparison to Grannys.” She’d seen him around every break, but it always felt awkward between them.

“Big cities aren’t all they’re cracked out to be, you're still in Boston I assume?”

“Best part of telling people around here that I go to college in Boston is when they assume I go to Harvard, I don’t correct them.” 

This emits a smile from Killian. “Glad to see college hasn’t changed you of all people. See you around Swan.” 

——-----

One of the few things Emma did like about coming home was seeing her family. 

Well granted now that her foster mother died last spring, she was left with just her big brother David. He was a couple years older than her and never went to college so throughout Emma’s high school years he was always around, she would come to him for advice and he would help her anytime she got in trouble. He even drove a eight hour round trip when Emma broke up with her ex-boyfriend a few months back and couldn’t face being in her apartment alone. And even though he had a wife and a baby on the way, he never made Emma feel any less loved.

“Guess who I saw lurking by the docks earlier?” Her brother asks. They’re sitting down for dinner, Emma sitting opposite David and his very pregnant wife Mary Margaret. Mary Margaret who had been David’s girlfriend ever since she came into this family, and was like a big sister, she was amazing and couldn’t think of anyone better for her brother.

“Leroy trying to escape getting caught leaving the White Rabbit drunk and disorderly again?” Her brother was the sheriff of the town, he didn’t go to college and had been interning since he was 17 so when the last sheriff retired, David was the obvious choice to take over. Although his job did mainly consist of rallying the town drunks when he wasn’t up to his eyeballs in paperwork.

David just chuckles, “no actually not today. Killian.”

Emma inwardly groans. Whilst David was never his biggest fan before they were together, he eventually grew to like him and since breaking up David always wants to know if there is a chance they will get back together. “Yeah I saw him coming out of Granny’s on my walk over here.” 

“Did you notice his missing hand?” Mary Margaret asks and Emma snorts,

“Is that a euphemism or something?”

Her sister in law shakes her head, “don’t you remember the crash that he and his brother got into last year?” 

“Shit, I forgot. Did he ever have a funeral? I don’t remember getting an invite.” Despite their breakup, there wasn’t any bad blood really, she knew Liam pretty well and she would have liked to be there.

Mary Margaret just shakes her head, “What I heard is it was a private burial, I’m not even sure his father was there.” 

Emma rolls her eyes at the mention of Killian's father, Emma met him maybe twice in the time she was in high school. One day he just got up and left because of a new girlfriend and left Liam and Killian alone. 

“I didn’t know he lost his hand, I heard he was in hospital for a while but I assumed it was all minor. I should go see him.”

“You may get the opportunity sooner than you think.” David mumbles in between the sips of his wine.

Emma knew what that meant and she groaned, “please tell me you didn’t.”

“He’s coming to dinner for Christmas. He doesn’t have any family left, you know better than anyone how that feels.” It wasn’t meant in a cruel way, and Emma knew he was right, she knew what it was like to have nobody and he didn’t deserve to feel that way. 

_______

The next day Emma sees Killian in town and doesn’t run in the other direction. Baby steps. 

“Swan.” It’s as if his face lights up when he sees Emma, which Emma hates. They had been broken up for over 3 years, she did not want to get back together. 

Still, she offers him a genuine smile. “Hey,” but this time her eyes linger to his hand, or rather, lack of.

“It’s okay, you can ask, it’s just a prosthetic, not a Hook.” 

“I should’ve said something last night, I feel awful about it. I’m so sorry.” She had no excuse for forgetting that his brother was killed.

“Don’t be sorry Swan, it’s not your fault. We were on our way home from a concert, Liam dragged me along. I didn't really know the band. It was raining pretty bad and the roads were slippery and next thing a car comes out of nowhere and hits us at speed flipping the car over and over. I woke up in hospital a few days later to the news that Liam didn’t make it, and as for my hand, they said the bone was sticking out so they had no choice but to amputate.” He explains taking his left glove off to reveal his prosthetic hand. 

Emma isn’t at all sure what to say, what do you say to the man who loved you and you were too much of a coward to say it back, and so break up with him instead. They were young and stupid and that didn’t excuse it, she couldn't help but wonder if they stayed together would any of this have happened. “I’m glad you’re coming to dinner, it’ll be nice to catch up.” She settled on, and it was true, she did want to catch up and see how he was doing, just hopefully without causing any feelings to resurface.

Over the next few days Emma will see Killian in the street, the store or at Granny’s and it felt like High School again. Suddenly she felt like she was 17 and was transported back to walking the halls of Storybrooke High with a smile on her face whenever she saw Killian. They were best friends, she was his biggest supporter aside from Liam, cheering at his football games and he was there to tutor her when she was failing Math. One look at each other would tell them everything they were thinking.

___

Yes they were best friends, but that didn’t stop Killian from flirting with her. And she never shot him down, never let on it made her uncomfortable because it didn’t, she enjoyed it. She would roll her eyes at him calling her “princess” or “love”, but she enjoyed the way it made her feel. At the time she thought it was because it made her feel special, an unloved orphan getting attention. It was stupid because she didn’t exactly realise until her 18th birthday party when they both had a little too much alcohol that Killian wasn’t just flirting with her for fun, he was flirting with her in the hopes that one day she may flirt back.  

It's not that there was anything wrong with Killian. He was insanely attractive, dark hair, light eyes and a british accent that was fucking hot. Emma would be lying if between the ages of 15 and 17 she hadn’t thought about kissing him at least once, and had woken up in a cold sweat from a very strange sort of dream about the two of them. But he was her best friend, and it would be weird to go from being friends to suddenly being more than that. 

“You would still be friends, just friends that kiss and have sex.” Was Ruby’s advice, which didn’t make her feel any better, that would surely just make things even weirder. What if they tried dating and it was horrible and they have an awful fight and things are never the same again. Which ironically is kind of what happened in the end, things got weird and they aren’t exactly friends anymore.  

The night of October 23rd. The night that changed everything. Emma's 18th birthday party. Ruth and David were away for the weekend so she had the house to herself with all the alcohol David conveniently “left behind” and everyone from school was invited. The house was not in the best shape when they returned  but that is a story for another day. Killian wasn’t there to help set up as he had practise for the upcoming game so he came when it was in full swing and the beer was flowing. Emma was not exactly sure how many beers she had by the time he arrived, letterman jacket in place of leather. Fuck it was hot. 

“Killian!” She runs over and hugs him as soon as she sees him.  

He hugs her back, and lingers for maybe a little too long, “Happy Birthday Swan.” 

Emma hands him a cup filled with whatever mixed beer and vodka concoction she had been drinking and leads him to the makeshift dance floor in the living room. “I was worried you weren’t going to make it.” 

“It’s your birthday Swan, I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”  

The two dance together for a while, beer after beer and Killian gets a little more flirty, and Emma just smiles and lets him flirt. 

It's past midnight and they’re still dancing together, but Killian takes her hand and leads her outside to the swinging bench on the porch, claiming he had something important to say.  

“I need to be honest with you Swan.”  

“What’s going on?” Emma asks, brows furrowed in confusion. 

”Emma, I-” Killian hesitates, looking to the door and back to Emma, afraid someone would walk out and ruin his only chance.  

The use of her first name and not her last baffles Emma, still unsure where this conversation was going. 

Instead of saying words, Killian grabs Emma’s face and kisses her. It feels strange at first, because it’s Killian, her best friend, but then it starts to feel right. It feels safe and he feels like home.  

“What was that?” She asks when they eventually pull away. 

“Something I have wanted to do for a while.” He admits with a smirk, gone was the shy facade he had before and was now more confident and slightly cocky.  

Emma kisses him again, just to make sure it was not a strange fluke and glitch that it felt good to be making out with her best friend, and turns out it felt even better the next time. Sure his lips tasted mostly of beer, but she couldn’t think of a single reason why she shouldn’t be doing this.” 

One thing leads to another and the next morning Emma wakes up with the worst hangover, and Killian in the bed next to her. Things were strange but over the next few months the two started officially dating and it felt totally normal, it was exactly like Ruby said, still best friends that just occasionally have sex. She had never felt so safe and comfortable, he felt like home.  

But when Graduation came around and College applications and scholarships came into play and ruined everything. They started arguing because Killian got a full ride to NYU and Emma hadn’t applied to any colleges in New York, she eventually got a scholarship to a small university in Boston, 4 hours away.  

“I don’t want to have a long distance relationship. How do we go from seeing each other every day to maybe once a month if we’re lucky?” Killian asks, he was in love with Emma and hated the thought of them being apart. 

“Then let’s just break up.” Emma tells him, coming out more blunt than intended, seeing the clear hurt on her boyfriend's face. “I just mean, let’s be friends whilst in college, whatever happens between us will only end badly if we stay together. Then when college is over, we can see if feelings and shit between us are still there. 

And that’s what happened, well to an extent. They went their separate ways, and the first few weeks would call and text all the time but as both had papers to write and tests to take, contact became less and less frequent and the first summer break they barely saw one another.

Emma did regret not keeping in touch with Killian and touching base more often, but it was inevitable, he was getting closer and closer and the walls Emma had spent years building were slowly crumbling and she hated it. David was the only person who could see past her walls and that took a while but he was her brother and it was different. Killain was tricky, she wanted to let him in but was so afraid of getting hurt. 

So sitting beside him on Christmas Day was a strange feeling. She was getting strong deja vu from the many family dinners he attended when they were dating. And clearly so was her brother who kept looking between the two of them and then back at his wife with a wide grin on his face.

“This is really nice of you to invite me Dave, I appreciate it.” Ever the gentleman with her family, not much has changed.

“It’s the least we could do, you were practically family once.” David smiles despite the glare his sister gives him across the table. “So what are your plans for after college, have you decided on a major?”

“I decided to major in Math actually, it always came naturally to me and it’s a good major that I think I’ll need for the Navy.” He tells them, taking an awkward sip from his beer, a conversation that was not going to go well.

“The Navy?” Emma almost doesn’t pick up on that last part, her mind flashed back to one of many study dates with Killian who was always better at Math than she was, a study date that started off with genuine studying and ended up with the two making out for hours. 

Killian doesn’t make eye contact, just simply takes another sip of his drink and continues. “That’s why I came back here, I have a few things of Liams to sort out, then I’m selling the house and moving back home where I’ll enlist in the British Royal Navy. I can graduate early if I do a few credits over the next few months.”

Home. Where he was born, a place Emma knew he hadn’t visited since he left when he was 7. This place had been his home for over a decade and suddenly it's not anymore. Bullshit. “Excuse me, I need some air.” She says getting up from the table, plate of food barely touched and practically runs from the room. 

“I should follow her, I’m sorry.” Killian says to David and Mary Margaret suddenly feeling awkward.

He finds Emma sitting outside on the porch swing and he debates whether or not to sit beside her, unsure if it would make things more awkward, eventually deciding to just stand beside it. “Swan, can we talk?”

Arms crossed, and not looking at him she tells him simply, “I don’t want to talk. There’s nothing to talk about.” It was immature but she didn’t care.

“Swan, I don’t get it.” He finally sits next to her on the swing. “You’ve barely spoken to me these past few years since we broke up, I assumed you’d be happy to see me go.” 

“Why are you leaving?” Emma simply ignores his comments, true as they were.

“There’s nothing here for me.” He sighs, not wanting to argue right now. “I have nothing left here, no family, no friends, nothing, I may as well start fresh.”

“You don’t have anyone? What am I then?” She asks, a little angry that despite everything that had happened, he didn’t see her as anything to him anymore.

Killian just scoffs, “You tell me Swan. What are we? Because if we’re being honest I have no clue. All I  know is I loved you and  you broke my fucking heart and then everything in my life goes to shit.” He wasn’t blaming her for anything that happened, but it hurt that when everything went to shit he didn’t have his best friend beside him.

“Are you blaming me for your brother's death right now?” It was a low blow, but in the heat of the moment she didn’t care.

“Of course not. But having you by my side would have made things a hell of a lot easier. All that bullshit about how we’ll stay friends and then whenever we’re back in the same town it's as if you make an excuse to avoid me. I don’t want a fucking pity party right now. I need to be alone.”

And with that, Emma is left on the porch swing by herself not knowing what to do. For the first time in years, she allows herself to cry. Actual tears spring from her eyes, wetting her face. Was she really such a horrible person? Is that what everyone thought of her? 

Emma had walls. Built up from half her life spent as an orphan, tossed about by different families and never really feeling loved. So she built walls over the years that only grew stronger as someone tried to chip away at them. David blasted a hole and forced himself in, which is exactly what Emma needed, he was family. But Killian.

Killian was different. He didn’t try to chip away at her walls, the wall chipped by itself when she was around him. When he kissed her for the very first time, it was like a huge chunk had just fallen, and she was becoming a lot more vulnerable. It was the first time it had happened. It was scary. She felt safe, but she was so afraid of being open that if something happened, it would hurt more than anything else.”

___

The next few days, Emma barely leaves the house. She has a paper to finish off which keeps her mind occupied, occupied away from Killian. She can’t face him again. But she equally doesn’t want to lose him forever. 

“His flight leaves tonight.” David lingers by her door, “thought you deserve to know.”

“Thanks, but I don’t think he wants to see me ever again.” 

David comes away from the door and on the side of the bed where his sister was. “I don’t believe that for a second.”

Tears begin to slowly form in her eyes “You didn’t hear our argument. Everything he said about me was true. I broke his heart and I didn’t even realise, I’m no better than Neal.”

David wraps his arm around his little sister, “never compare yourself to that dichead. You broke up because you didn’t want to go through an even messier breakup six months later after failing at a long distance relationship. Your walls were up, and I know that, but I don’t think he knows that.”

“You think he’ll listen to me?”

David just shrugs ‘Only one way to find out. Go, before it's too late.”

And so Emma takes off for Killians, honestly not knowing what to say or how. When she gets outside his house, going over and over what she was going to say. When the door doesn’t open, she knocks again. And again. “Fuck sake Killian, where are you?” Looking through the window to see if she could spot him ignoring her, she remembers behind the house is a path leading right to the docks. And if he wasn’t home, there was a pretty high chance he was by the docks.

She climbs over the gate, something she used to do a lot when she was in high school, and follows the path, And it doesn’t take long to spot dark hair clad in leather sitting on the edge of the dock, looking into space. She approaches slowly, and slots herself beside him. “Hi.”

He glances a look at her, debating whether to get up or stay. “Swan.” He finally settles on, and stays put.

“I came to explain myself, to tell you that I-” She begins before getting cut off,

“-If it’s an apology you’re here to give, I don’t want to hear it.” 

“Not an apology, Just, an explanation. You deserve to know why I acted the way I did and why I said what I did.”

“Go on then.” he gestures, feigning little interest.

Emma takes a deep breath. “You know I grew up in the foster system, and I was thrown in and out of different foster homes up until I moved here. In those years I experienced a lot of hurt, especially when I got my hopes up of a foster family liking me and adopting me, and it fucking hurt like hell when they threw me back in the system. I built walls up, to guard myself and not let myself feel that hurt, and I wouldn’t let anyone in, if they tried I would push away. David and Ruth punched a hole in that wall and filled it with love, but they’re the only exception.” She manages to smile through the tears beginning to form. “You were always there though, trying to get in and I wouldn’t let you. I think I loved you since you smiled at me that first day in class and helped me find my classes for the day, but I didn’t realise until it was too late. I should have let you in, you wouldn’t hurt me. I know that now, but I didn’t at the time. I felt so safe around you, it was me and you against the world and when I realised I was falling in love, I got scared, and we were moving 6 hours away from each other and I got scared as I was feeling all these things and I thought what if he finds someone better and I feel like I did when I was 7 years old again, so I thought breaking up would help me but I was selfish as I didn’t think how that would affect you. Then whenever we were back in the same place, I didn’t know how to act, my walls were back up and I shut you out. I made terrible mistakes, and I understand if you never forgive me, but you deserve to know the truth.”

When he doesn’t say anything, she simply gets up and walks away. It was out there and at least she could 

“Emma, wait.” She feels her arm grabbed and looks to see Killian, no words forming but its as if he's asking her to stay.

“You deserve to know the truth before you leave. If you never want to see me again then I get it.”

“You loved me back then?” He asks, afraid to know the answer, he had told her a few times that he loved her, she never said it back though, he assumed she just needed time and he was willing to give her that, but as time went on and then the break up happened, he thought maybe she doesn’t actually love him.

“How could I not love you Killian?” She half laughs, half cries. “You were everything to me, and I know that life was pretty good when you were around, the last few years haven’t felt the same.” She had only dated one guy since Killian, and he shattered her heart as soon as she was opening up to him, and she never felt the way with him as she did when she was with Killian. 

“And, do you love me now?” It was a risky question, and one that left Killian pretty bare, but he had to know.

Fighting the urge to deny it, she couldn't. “I think I never stopped loving you, and I know I never told you back then and looking back-”

She's cut off by Killian grabbing her face, similar to all those years ago and capturing her lips in a kiss. She was an idiot for ever letting him go, and she knew at that moment, she would never let him go.

“Is this a reason enough to stay?” Emma asks.

Killlain just nods, “You can’t get rid of me now Swan.” And he kisses her, putting all the longing from the past few years into it, she tasted the exact same.

She felt like home.

#cs secret santa #captain swan #csss 2022 #my writing

[gloriousfemaleworrier]

hi friends...long time no see!

this is embarrassing...but I literally haven’t checked tumblr in MONTHS, and I mean MONTHS, which has had the unfortunate side effect of unwittingly driving @cssecretsanta2020 insane, for which I PROFUSELY apologize.

school is hard, and balancing stuff is also hard. but fear not! because I will be back to post stuff semi-regularly on here, including my LONG overdue CSSS22 story for my incredibly patient and forgiving secret santa @willexxmercer

#look #school is hard #so is life #but I'm gonna try to be more active

[kazoosandfannypacks]

Merry Christmas to my @cssecretsanta2020 giftee, @booksteaandtoomuchtv !!! It's been so hard not to spoil the reveal, but I'm happy to announce that it's me!

For your gift, I've written you a lovely little fic, (partly based on our Captain Swan Christmas Headcanons lists!)

Emma's First Perfect Christmas by kazoosandfannypacks (General Audiences, 9K words, 9 chapters, CaptainSwan fluff, CaptainCobraSwan)

Like many things in this world, Emma had been indifferent to the holidays, as long as they kept their difference. She’d never had a good Valentine’s date, never been able to afford a real Halloween costume, and couldn’t find much to be thankful for before she arrived in Storybrooke. A lot had changed since her arrival, and even moreso after they broke the first curse- suddenly she had a child, and later parents, and a grandma, and friends, and even later a husband- she now had a family, and the problem with families is that they love to celebrate, they love nostalgia, and sentimentality- and her family excelled at that. They’d started celebrating Thanksgivings after Ingrid sacrificed herself to stop her curse- during those few weeks when everything seemed like a happy ending- though they were then still a couple years off from their happy beginning. But now that they had happiness, and they were living a normal life, Mary Margaret had announced at Thanksgiving dinner that they should add another holiday into the mix- Christmas.

“Why couldn’t she have picked Halloween next?” Emma thought as they drove home from Thanksgiving dinner, “Or fourth of July? Or groundhog’s day- though the Bill Murray movie might hit a little too close to curse on that one.” “Are you alright, love?” Killian asked. “Yeah.” Emma looked at him with a half second’s fake smile, then fixed her eyes back on the road. “Why do you ask?” “Well I’m not the best driver in the family,” Henry piped in from the back seat, “but I’m pretty sure you usually stop at an intersection.” “I’m fine,” Emma said, “Just got a lot on my mind.” “Are you sure, love?” Killian asked. Emma didn’t need to look at him- she could tell by the concern on his voice what worry to read on his face. “We can talk about it later.” Emma said. Killian nodded out of the corner of Emma’s eye, then tried to change the subject. “So, Henry, tell me more about this Christmas we’re going to be celebrating.” Emma tried to just nod along and not stress out as her boys changed the subject to exactly what was weighing on her mind. “It’s a time to celebrate with family,” Henry said, “with lots of peace and hope and goodwill and joy. It’s the closest thing this land has to magic outside of Storybrooke.” “Fascinating!” Killian said. “What brought this celebration about?” “It’s kinda like the birthday of a god, or a king, or something like that.” Henry said. “So like King’s Day?” Killian asked. “King’s Day?” “It’s a holiday from the Enchanted Forest, on the King’s birthday.” “How do you celebrate King’s Day?” Henry asked. “Commiting crimes.” Killian smiled. Emma hit the brakes a little harder than she should’ve as they pulled into the driveway. “You celebrate King’s Day by committing crimes?” She raised an eyebrow at Killian, who flashed a charming smile. “Well, other people celebrated it with festivals and banquets and paying extra taxes. We celebrated by committing crimes.” “Let’s not bring that tradition into our celebration, okay?” Emma asked, “Christmas and stealing don’t exactly go hand in hand.” “Unless you’re the Grinch.” Henry said. “The what?” Killian asked. Henry ignored him, apparently struck with a realization. “Mom, do you think the Grinch is real too?” “The Grinch?” Emma asked, as they got out of the car. “Yeah, and Whos down in Whoville.” Henry added. “Henry, I’m pretty sure that one’s just a…” she was about to say “just a fairytale,’ but as Captain Hook stepped out of her car with a plastic bag of thanksgiving leftovers, she realized she might need to suspend a little more disbelief. “I don’t know. Maybe?”

Read more on ao3!

#captain swan #killian jones #emma swan #cssecretsanta #fanfic #kazzy writes #christmas #a kazzy little christmas #once upon a time #ouat #once upon a time season 6 #ouat fic #cs fic

[laurellibra]

A Rare Moment of Peace - CSSS2021

Merry Christmas to @colinoeyebrows ​ and everyone at @cssecretsanta2020​ ! I know you said you like a bit of fluffy romance and are particularly fond of Enchanted Forest stories, so I hope you like this, its just a cute little Christmas story, atheistically inspired by 5x08 an episode that you said you love :)

Title: A Rare Moment Of Peace

Rated: General Audiences

Summary: Emma’s first Christmas in the Enchanted Forest with her family

Link: AO3

#csssanta2021 #csss #cssecretsanta2020 #cssecretsanta2021 #colinoeyebrows #captain swan #oneshot

[cssecretsanta2020]

Masterlist CS SecretSanta 2020

Hi guys! I am very sorry for the delay. The last days I’ve slept or worked, but finally I found some time to post the list. I have to say: THANK YOU to each one of you, for participating, for creating all these wonderful gifts and for sharing all the joy. This year was by far the smoothest event I’ve ever hosted. Although we had 4 drop outs, none of their doing created major issues. However we still have two gifts missing. I hope I can add them to this list soon.

STORIES

The Christmas Wish by @whimscallyenchantedrose for @captain-emmajones

everything is icy and blue (you would be here too) by @captain-emmajones​ for @klynn-stormz​

Merry Crisis by @pirateherokillian​ for @carpedzem

to make the season bright by @demisexualemmaswan​ for @resident-of-storybrooke​

Mountain Stew by @girl-in-a-tiny-box​ for @mariakov81​

One Season Following Another by @stahlop​ for @spacekrulesbians​

The Holiday House by @let-it-raines​ for @snowbellewells​

Hiraeth by @wellhellotragic​ for @shireness-says

The Set-Up Scam by @shireness-says​ for @nevertothethird​

nice and rosy and comfy cozy by @spacekrulesbians​ for @xhookswenchx​

Merry Christmas, You Ass by @xhookswenchx​ for @stahlop​

Quite a Common Christmas Tale by @emmaducklingsaviour​ for @imagnifika​

traditions by @thisonesatellite​ for @ohmakemeahercules

story by @xellewoods​ for @itsfabianadocarmo​

Quite a Snowy-weather by @cocohook38​ for @captainodonoghue

The Snow Falls Quickly by @klynn-stormz​ for @cocohook38

Snowstorm Confessions by @jrob64​ for @girl-in-a-tiny-box

Getting to Know You at Christmas @emmakillianfan​ for @whimsicallyenchantedrose

the gift of gab, the gift of you by @nevertothethird​ for @thisonesatellite​

three sheets to the wind by  @delightfully-difficult-pirate​ for @pirateherokillian Dream On by @laurellibra​ for @wellhellotragic​

The Price of a Bean and the Cost of Love by @curiousconstellations​ for @phiralovesloki​ Surprise by @everything-person​ for @darkcolinodonorgasm

the story can resume by @mariakov81​ for @demisexualemmaswan One little ray of hope by @snowbellewells​ for @let-it-raines​

For the holiday spirit pt1, pt2 by @ouatpost​ for @laurellibra​

Put One Foot In Front Of The Other by @resident-of-storybrooke​ for @theblacksiren​

the space in between by @darkcolinodonorgasm​ for @courtorderedcake​ I Guess There Ain't No Santa Claus by @ohmakemeahercules​ for @jrob64​ Christmas Miss-mas by @lifeinahole27​ for @ouatpost​

ART

Secret Santa by @carpedzem​ for @emmaducklingsaviour​

gift 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 by @eastwesthomeisbest​ for @lifeinahole27​

Merry Christmas by @imagnifika​ for @killiarious​

An Intimate Christmas by @itsfabianadocarmo​ for @allons-y-to-hogwarts-713

Merry Xmas by @cocohook38​ for @captainodonoghue don't wake me please, from this winter dream by @theblacksiren​ for @emmakillianfan​

MERRY CHRISTMAS! by @killiarious​ for @eastwesthomeisbest​

Little Red Riding Oh by @allons-y-to-hogwarts-713​ for @everything-person​ We wish you a merry Christmas by @allons-y-to-hogwarts-713​ for @everything-person

And isn’t it just so pretty to think by @captainodonoghue​ for @curiousconstellations​

Please be so kind and tell me if you find any mistakes (dysfunctional or wrong links, missing gifts, etc) or if your gift does not show up. I checked it three times but it’s always possible I missed something. 

#cssecretsanta2020 #csss #masterlist #masterlist2020 #secret santa #story #art #thank you #gifts #theend