#cs ghosts

[lovebeatriceplz]

Maybe she's not terrible

Just 15.

[jrob64]

Ghosted

Chapter 1 - Hauntings

Here is the first chapter of my contribution for this year's Captain Swan Supernatural Summer. I have many people to thank for helping me get this written and posted by my assigned date.

Thank you to my fellow mods of CSSNS24 - @winterbaby89 @stahlop @ultraluckycatnd and @kmomof4. I'm so glad we've had such a great response to this last event!

More thanks to Krystal for creating the absolutely amazing pic set for this story. It turned out great, didn't it? Making Neal and Liam appear ghostly was the handiwork of @motherkatereloyshipper, so she also deserves my appreciation.

Rounding out my list of thank yous is my ever-loyal beta, @hookedmom. I've been writing CS stories for nearly six years and she's been with me for the vast majority of them!

I anticipate this story being 3-4 chapters long in total. It isn't completely written yet, so unfortunately I can't provide a posting schedule, but I assure you it WILL be finished. If you're not on my tag list and would like to be informed when future chapters post, please let me know.

DISCLAIMER: All I know about ghost hunting is what I've watched on Ghost Adventures (which is worth watching simply for the entertainment factor.) I also know next to nothing about how YouTube works beyond being a viewer. Please excuse all errors and keep in mind that this is fanfic and isn't meant to be completely accurate!

SUMMARY: When Emma Swan’s ex-boyfriend dies, she’s haunted by his ghost. Her neighbor, Killian Jones, a ghost hunter who has a YouTube channel, realizes what’s happening and offers to help. However, there’s more at stake than simply helping the apparition move on. There’s also the matter of Killian telling Emma he’s in love with her.

Rating: T (subject to change)

Words (Chapter 1): 4700

Also posted to ffn and Ao3

Juggling a large Americano and a blueberry scone, Emma Swan made a beeline across the coffee shop for the small table in the corner. Whenever she stopped in, she tried to sit there because it was beside the window and was only big enough for one chair. Even when the shop was crowded, no one could join her or bother her by asking if ‘this seat is taken’. She could be left alone, which was the way she preferred it in the mornings.

Taking a sip of the near-scalding beverage, she tilted her head back and closed her eyes, savoring the aromatic flavor on her tongue. She tried not to make a habit of coming to this shop, but her coffee maker died over the weekend and she needed her shot of caffeine.

She was nibbling on the corner of her scone when she felt her phone vibrate with an incoming text. Pulling it out of the back pocket of her jeans, she saw that it was from her friend Ruby. The partial message on the lock screen said I’ve got huge news. Are you sitting down?

Emma huffed out a sound of amusement as she unlocked her phone. Ruby’s ‘huge’ news was probably that Graham Humbert, who worked at the police station where Ruby was the dispatcher, had switched to a different scent of cologne. Instead, her eyes widened as she read the rest of the message:

They found Neal Cassidy dead in his cell this morning. Apparent suicide. Guess you won’t have to worry about him stalking you again when he gets out.

It took her a few moments to digest the information. For nearly two years, thoughts of that man had never been far from the forefront of her mind. The memories of their blossoming romantic relationship, which were replaced by her suspicions and ultimate confirmation of his criminal activities, raced through her brain as she stared at the message for an inordinate amount of time.

When she finally started typing a response to Ruby, a shadow fell across the table, blocking the late morning sun. It didn’t move for several moments, so she glanced up, meaning to find the source of it on the other side of the window.

And looked directly into the eyes of Neal Cassidy.

Shocked beyond words, she squeezed her eyes closed, then blinked repeatedly before she looked up again, her heart hammering in her chest.

He was gone.

*********

Emma met Neal at a car dealership where he worked as a salesman. She was looking to trade in her yellow VW bug for something more reliable and he was eager to help. He was charming and funny, so when he asked her out on a date after the sale was made, she didn’t hesitate to accept.

They dated for six months before she started getting the feeling that he was selling more than cars. Hearing him have secretive one-sided conversations on the phone and seeing him meet shady looking characters in neighborhoods known to be frequented by crime lords made her suspicious, but the day she found a small bag of crack cocaine in his apartment was the day she was officially done with him.

When she broke it off, Neal begged her to stay, bragging about how he was in line to become very important and wealthy someday soon, and would provide her with everything her heart desired. Emma assured him she did not desire to be in the company of drug dealers and walked away, determined to put that chapter of her life behind her.

Having witnessed his sales techniques, she was well aware that he was persistent, but his persistence rapidly turned into obsession. She received dozens of texts from him every day, along with numerous calls she refused to answer. After listening to a few voicemails he left declaring his love for her, she deleted the rest and blocked his number.

That didn’t deter him, though. He continued showing up at her apartment, the gym where she worked out, and her place of employment - the swanky hotel where she tended bar. It was annoying, but she didn’t feel threatened and didn’t think a restraining order against him was necessary.

After several months of rebuffing or simply ignoring him, she was relieved when two days in a row went by without any contact from him. Then Ruby called to tell her he had been busted for drug trafficking and was awaiting a hearing. A trial followed, he was sentenced to five years in prison, and Emma hoped she had seen the last of Neal Cassidy.

*********

Emma dragged herself up the two flights of stairs to her apartment on wobbly legs. She was still trembling from the encounter at the coffee shop, unable to shake the image of her deceased ex-boyfriend from her mind.

She had finally managed to send Ruby a text, asking her if she had proof Neal was actually dead. Ruby replied that her friend Dorothy, who worked at the prison where Neal was serving his time, saw his body on the gurney as he was taken out, and talked to the guard who found him hanging by a bed sheet. He was definitely dead.

The only explanation Emma could come up with for seeing Neal outside the window was that the shock of reading Ruby’s text caused her to conjure an image of him. But that didn’t explain the feeling she had of being watched or followed all the way home, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

When she reached the third floor, she wasn’t surprised to see her friend and neighbor, Killian Jones, in the hallway between their two doors, fiddling with a metal box which was emitting a strange humming sound. As a paranormal investigator and the host of a popular YouTube channel called “Killian Jones - Ghost Hunter”, he was always trying out various pieces of equipment.

He glanced up, his striking blue eyes fastening on her before his face split into a grin. “Hey, Swan. How are you today?”

She answered vaguely as she stopped in front of her door. Suddenly, the humming sound increased in volume and pitch and Killian’s smile faded into a look of confusion. Picking up what looked like a radar gun laying beside him on the floor, he stood and held it between himself and Emma.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

He didn’t answer, too intent on circling her slowly and studying the numbers on the gadget. When he finally looked up several seconds later, he hesitantly commented, “Swan…it appears you have a…a ghost following you.”

Emma felt the blood drain from her face and her knees buckle, which was the last thing she remembered before everything went black.

Killian barely caught Emma in time to keep her from hitting the floor as she fainted. Hoisting her up into his arms, he carried her inside his apartment. This was not how he expected her to end up in his arms, but he would take what he could get.

*********

The two of them had lived beside each other ever since Killian moved into the apartment next to hers when he arrived in Boston five years ago. At first, they just exchanged pleasantries when they passed in the hall. After a few months, they began to have short conversations about the weather and their frustration with the landlord. That led to them doing favors for one another, such as taking in packages, bringing the other’s clothes upstairs from the laundry room, and picking up items one of them forgot to buy at the grocery store. Eventually, they built up enough trust in each other that they traded apartment keys to make it more convenient to drop things off.

Every once in a while, they would share a pizza while watching TV in one of their apartments. Seeing Emma so relaxed in her own home, laughing and bantering with him, started Killian down the road of developing deeper feelings toward her. He was enamored with her wit and intelligence and thought she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever met.

At times, he witnessed men coming to her door to pick her up for a date, something that always left him feeling bereft. Fortunately, most of them never came around more than once. He enjoyed listening to her humorous assessments of each man’s shortcomings afterwards.

Then she started dating Neal Cassidy, and during those months, Killian hardly saw her. When he did bump into the couple, Neal treated him with disdain, looking down his nose at him and scoffing at everything Killian said. It was made worse by the fact that Emma didn’t even seem to notice. Killian was sure he had missed his chance of acting on his feelings for her.

He almost felt guilty for being ecstatic upon finding out she’d broken up with Neal. His happiness turned to concern and then anger when Emma told him Neal wouldn’t leave her alone. The two men had words several times when Killian found him hanging around in the hall outside her apartment. Then Emma told him Neal had been arrested and sent to prison, and he was beyond relieved that the idiot wouldn’t be bothering her anymore.

Still, Killian didn’t ask her out, reasoning that she’d just gotten out of a bad relationship. He continued to fall for her more and more, while she remained completely unaware of his burgeoning feelings toward her. Feelings that, by now, felt a lot like love.

*********

After laying her on his couch, Killian tapped Emma’s cheeks, urging, “Swan! Swan! Wake up! You have to wake up, Love.” When she didn’t respond, he scrubbed a hand down his face. “Bloody hell, Lass. I didn’t mean to frighten you that badly.”

He glanced around the living room, trying to figure out what to do to help Emma regain consciousness. Going into his kitchen, he took a clean dish towel out of the drawer, placed some ice cubes inside and while there, grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge.

She was still out cold when he emerged a minute later. Concern etched his face. In all the years he lived next door to Emma Swan, he never knew her to be anything but tough and strong. Seeing her lying there so ashen and unmoving unnerved him. He lifted her head slightly to place the ice under her neck.

Convinced there was nothing more he could do at the moment, he went back out to the hallway and collected his EMF meter, noticing that it was back to a steady hum. Picking up the infrared thermometer he had dropped, he saw the temperature had returned to normal. No more cold spots. Apparently whatever spirit that had entered the hallway with Emma was gone.

Reentering his apartment, he sat on the coffee table in front of the sofa to keep vigil over his neighbor, continuing to pat her cheeks and call her name from time to time. After several more long minutes, her eyelids began to flutter, then slowly opened. Her eyes darted around, obviously trying to figure out where she was. He could tell the moment she figured it out, because she groaned and covered her face with her hands.

“Please tell me I didn’t faint,” she pleaded.

“I wish I could, but that would be untrue,” he responded, tilting his head to offer her a small, reassuring smile when she uncovered her eyes.

She started to sit up, but he put a hand to her shoulder to stop her. “Easy, Swan. Better lie still a bit longer.”

With a huff of annoyance, she laid back down, adjusting the ice pack behind her neck. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

“You’re welcome.”

She lay quietly for a while, nibbling on her bottom lip. “May I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Why, uh…why did you say that I had a ghost with me?”

She was obviously trying to pass off the question as being simply one of curiosity, but the look in her eyes told him she was quite serious about it.

“The infrared thermometer showed a definite cold spot and the EMF detector…”

“EMF detector?” she questioned. “What’s that?”

He sighed in frustration. “Don’t you ever watch my videos, Swan?” No matter how many times he talked to her about his show, he could never get her to commit to watching his YouTube channel.

“You know I don’t believe in ghosts,” she said.

He rolled his eyes before explaining. “An EMF detector measures electromagnetic fields. A high reading indicates the presence of a spirit.” He paused, making sure he worded his next statement carefully. “And perhaps you had better rethink your position on ghosts, because my instruments strongly suggested paranormal activity around you.”

She closed her eyes and cursed. Killian picked up the bottle of water and held it out to her. She sat up and accepted it, taking a long drink as she propped her feet on the table beside him.

“Care to enlighten me as to why you fainted when I told you my findings?” he inquired.

Capping the bottle, she held it against her forehead for a minute or two - long enough for Killian to wonder if she was going to give him an answer. Finally, she looked up at him and murmured, “Do you remember Neal Cassidy?”

“The wanker who hung around outside your apartment for months after you broke up with him?”

“That’s the one. Did I tell you that he was sentenced to prison for drug trafficking?”

“Aye, you did.”

“Well, apparently he hung himself in his cell. They found his body this morning.”

Killian let out a low whistle. “You think it could be his spirit that was causing my instruments to spike?”

She looked down again, fiddling with the label on the water bottle. “Possibly…because…” She drew in a deep breath. “Because I saw him outside the coffee shop this morning,” she said on an exhale.

Trying not to overreact and make Emma even more uncomfortable, he swallowed hard. “Now, when you say you saw him…”

“I mean I saw him,” she emphasized. “My friend Ruby texted to tell me about Neal’s death and as I was in the process of answering her, I noticed this shadow that didn’t move outside the window where I was sitting. When I looked up, Neal was standing there, staring right at me. I blinked, then he was gone.”

Killian’s ‘ghost hunter’ mind was getting excited about the prospect of being able to investigate a spirit practically under his own nose, but his heart went out to her. Being haunted was something he was more or less used to, but he wouldn’t wish it on anyone.

“Did you see him again after that?” he asked.

“No, but I had this…feeling while I was walking home; like someone was watching me. It really freaked me out.”

“So when I told you there was a ghost following you…”

“It was lights out for me.” She buried her face in her hands. “I’m so embarrassed. I’ve never fainted before.”

Killian reached over and squeezed her shoulder. “There’s no reason for embarrassment, Love. I’ve met many people who’ve had the exact same reaction when faced with the possibility of being in the presence of a ghost.”

“Seriously?”

He rubbed his thumb against the bridge of his nose, trying to contain his impatience. “If you watched my YouTube channel, you would be aware of that.”

“No offense, but the last thing I want to do right now is watch people being haunted.”

“That’s quite understandable, considering what you’ve been through today.”

She took another swig of water, then looked up at him. “Do you think he’s gone? Moved on, or whatever?”

Killian blew out a breath. “Probably not. My guess is he has unfinished business or he would have already moved on.”

“That’s just great,” Emma muttered sarcastically. “How long can I expect him to hang around?”

“Until he accomplishes what he needs to do.”

“So what am I supposed to do until then?” she moaned.

“Just go about your daily routine. If you see him or sense he’s there, gently tell him that he has died and needs to move on.”

 “So saying ‘go to hell’ wouldn’t be a wise choice?”

He bark laughed. “I’m not sure that would be very effective.”

She drained the rest of the water, set the empty bottle on the table and stood up. Killian stood too, placing his hand on the small of her back. “Alright there, Swan?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m gonna go get something to eat and take it easy this afternoon until I have to go to work.”

“That sounds like a good plan.” As she started toward the door, he added, “Uh, Emma? Could I ask a favor of you?”

She turned to look at him. “A favor for the guy who carried me into his apartment and took care of me when I fainted like a prissy debutante? Sure.”

“If, um, if Neal’s spirit does reappear, would you be opposed to letting me document it?”

Crossing her arms over her chest, she tilted her head in contemplation. “What would you do exactly?”

“Use equipment to detect paranormal activity and post it to my YouTube channel.”

“You mean that ESPN detector and stuff like that?”

He sighed in exasperation. “It’s EMF, Swan. Yes, that and voice recorders to conduct EVP sessions…”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “Stop saying letters. You know I don’t know what that shit means.”

“Electronic voice phenomena sessions record sounds or voices from ghosts. If he’s trying to communicate with you, we might be able to pick it up on a voice recorder.”

Shrugging, she replied, “That’s fine. I’m sure it would get lots of hits for your channel.”

He stepped into her personal space, sincerity shining in his eyes. “I hope you know that’s not why I want to do this, Emma. My goal is to help you encourage him to move on so you will no longer have to deal with him. It’s bad enough he stalked you while he was alive; doing it after he’s dead is even worse.”

She gave a slight nod. “You’re right about that.” Pushing up to her toes, she brushed a kiss to his cheek. “Thanks again for everything, Killian. If I get the feeling he’s back, I’ll call you right away.”

“Day or night, Swan. I’m at your beck and call.”

“Good to know,” she smirked. “I’ll see you later.”

He watched her walk out the door, reaching up to rub his cheek where she kissed him. He was going to have to do his best to remain professional around her, but potentially having Emma as his next subject was going to be quite the challenge.

*********

Emma entered her apartment, quickly flipped on the light switch, and glanced around nervously. Not seeing or sensing anything out of the ordinary, she moved into the kitchen.

After heating up leftovers and eating lunch, she climbed into her worn, comfy recliner to scroll through Hulu. She tried to concentrate on her selected show, but her eyes kept darting around the room. “Fuck you, Neal,” she muttered. “Making me paranoid in my own home.”

Finally giving up on watching TV, she went into her bedroom to select her clothes for work that evening. Then she decided to take a long, relaxing bath. The longer she soaked in the tub without any sign of Neal’s ghostly image, the more she relaxed.

By the time she left for work three hours later, she was nearly back to her normal self and very hopeful that he had indeed moved on.

*********

After Emma left his apartment, Killian tidied up - dumping the melting ice cubes into the sink, hanging the towel to dry, and throwing the empty water bottle into his recycling bin. Then he checked all of his ghost hunting equipment, setting the batteries to charge if they were a little low.

Plopping down on the couch, he pulled up the message app on his phone and clicked on the group text with his technical director, Belle French, and his assistant, Will Scarlett.

K: We may have a new gig right here in my apartment building.

As expected, he got an immediate response from Will. The man’s eyes were practically glued to his phone screen most of the time.

W: Got a haunter right under your nose, do ya?

Belle’s answer several minutes later was a little more refined.

B: Can you provide us with any details?

K: My neighbor’s ex-boyfriend committed suicide in prison and she’s experiencing some paranormal activity. She says she saw his ghost outside a coffee shop and when she got home, I was in the hall with the EMF meter and thermo. Both of them spiked.

B: Oh, wow! That’s incredible! Sad for the guy and your neighbor, but what an opportunity!

W: Is this neighbor the hot blonde you’ve been crushin’ on for years?

Killian dropped his head back and groaned. He should have known better than to have confessed his unrequited feelings to his assistant during a boring all-nighter in an old warehouse in Portland, Maine last year.

K: That’s a very crass way to put it, but yes, it’s Emma.

W: You mean we might actually get to meet her?

K: Not if you’re going to be an ass about it.

W: I’ll be on me best behavior, I promise.

K: Why doesn’t that reassure me?

B: What are your plans, Killian?

Leave it to Belle to be the peacemaker of the conversation, Killian thought. If he was feeling vengeful toward Will, he could mention the crush his friend had on the auburn-haired beauty. How she never realized it, Killian would never know. Will was the very definition of heart eyes whenever he was around her.

K: I’ve got my equipment ready to go. If she senses anything, she’s going to call me. If it’s a recurring thing, we’ll set up an EVP session. I’ll let you know if anything happens. Just wanted to put you on alert.

B: Sounds good. I’ll be editing tomorrow. The new episode should be ready to post by Thursday.

K: Thanks, Belle. You’re the best!

W: He’s right, ya know. You really are bloody brilliant.

Seriously - how could she not see it when Will was always falling all over himself to proclaim her perfection?

Once Killian ended the conversation, he wandered into the room he used as his office.

“Hello, little brother.”

*********

From a very early age, Killian had been able to sense paranormal activity. He was confused by it for many years, but as he grew and began to read about ghosts, he realized he had a gift, albeit an unwanted one.

When he was twelve, his mother passed and he was there to witness her soul departing her body. She only stayed long enough to declare her never-ending love for her boys and bid him goodbye, before she moved on to her eternal reward.

Eight years later, when Liam died in a naval training exercise, Killian expected him to join their mother. However, his brother’s apparition began appearing to him from time to time. At first, his appearance was simply a mist, barely recognizable, but as Killian did more research into the paranormal and practiced tapping into his abilities, it became more discernible. Still, he was frustrated that he could see his brother, but was unable to speak to him.

He purchased several pieces of equipment used by paranormal investigators, hoping to enhance his encounters with Liam. They turned out to be very helpful, but Liam soon learned to communicate with his brother well enough that the tools weren’t necessary.

On a whim, Killian posted videos of himself explaining the use of equipment to make contact with ghosts on YouTube, and soon he was in demand as a paranormal investigator. People were willing to pay large sums of money to be able to make contact with their departed loved ones, or to encourage ghosts to move on. He quit his job as a dock worker and began traveling, taking his friend Will along with him, and when the technical aspects of editing and posting to YouTube proved too daunting, he hired Belle.

Even his closest friends were unaware that Killian’s deceased brother appeared and spoke with him on a regular basis; he wanted to keep that part of his life to himself.

*********

It still startled Killian whenever the apparition of his brother appeared, but it wasn’t ever an unwelcome intrusion. His visits never lasted long, but there was always enough time for a nice chat.

“Perhaps you’ve forgotten I’m a grown man and therefore your younger brother,” Killian reminded Liam, for at least the fiftieth time.

“I’m not sure that’s technically true any more, since you’ve now lived past the age I was when I died.”

Killian hated it when Liam talked about his own death. “You were born before me, so you’ll always be older.”

“Hmm…” Liam responded, giving his brother the maddening little nod that meant he was right and Killian was wrong. “So, the lovely lass you’re pining for was here today, aye?”

“How did you know that?” Killian asked unnecessarily. Obviously Liam had popped in and, being a tad preoccupied taking care of Emma, he hadn’t noticed.

“I’m not doing the job of watching over my little brother very well if I don’t know what’s going on in his life.”

Killian had never come right out and asked Liam about the unfinished business that kept him from moving on, but having been his guardian for years before his death, he was sure it was to continue taking care of him. Not that he needed it, but he wasn’t complaining, as long as he had a chance to have his older brother with him in some shape or form.

“She, uh…she fainted so I brought her in to lay her on my sofa. I couldn’t very well let her lay on the floor in the hallway.”

“What caused her to faint?” Liam asked, his playful tone giving way to concern.

“Seems she was visited by the ghost of her departed ex-boyfriend. You didn’t see him hanging around, did you?”

“You know spirits seldom bump into one another, unless they were associated with each other while they were living.”

“I just thought I would ask. It spooked her badly - no pun intended.”

“Have you agreed to help her?”

“Aye, if I can. The guy made her life miserable when he was alive. She shouldn’t have to put up with him after his death.”

Liam studied his brother for several moments. “Perhaps this will give you a chance to get closer to her. Maybe you’ll even work up the nerve to finally ask her out.”

Killian sighed. “I’m not going to do that when she’s so vulnerable, Liam. I simply want to get the tosser to move on.”

“And after that?”

“I don’t know,” Killian conceded.

“You’ve had feelings for that lass for ages, Killy. When are you going to act on them?”

“I’m afraid she’s only ever going to think of me as a friend. If I ask her out and she turns me down, I might lose her friendship, and I don’t want that to happen.”

“You’ll never know unless you try.”

Killian didn’t answer. He’d had this conversation with his brother before and Liam always pushed him to ask Emma out. He didn’t understand why his love life was so important to his brother, but whenever he asked him, Liam was evasive and refused to answer.

“Just think about it, Killian. I have to go. I love you, Brother.”

“Love you, too, Liam.”

He watched his brother’s translucent form dissolve, leaving him sad and lonely, as always. He didn’t know when Liam would complete his unfinished business, but he did know that when he finally did, Killian would be left alone once again.

Unbeknownst to him, Liam’s unfinished business was to see his brother happily married to the love of his life, but it was up to Killian to take the first step.

*********

Thanks very much for reading. Be sure to check out the other great stories in the CSSNS24 collection!

Tagging:

@qualitycoffeethings @grimmswan @cs-rylie @wyntereyez @kmomof4 @hookedmom @ultraluckycatnd @paradiselady19 @xarandomdreamx @motherkatereloyshipper @lfh1226-linda

@pawshapedheart @vampcoffeegyrl23 @tiganasummertree @bluewildcatfanatic @eleveneitherway @elfiola @kday426

@julieenchanted-swans @gingerchangeling @andiirivera @djlbg @jonesfandomfanatic @snowbellewells @anmylica @booksteaandtoomuchtv @cocohook38 @ilovemesomekillianjones

@zaharadessert @lyssapup27 @undercaffinatednightmare @winterbaby89 @jennjenn615 @xsajx @jackieorioncat @teamhook @soniccat @jarienn972 @softkilly @kymbersmith-90 @apiratewhopines

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[attex]

hourlyish ballpoint things also wtf its cirno day

[eastwesthomeisbest]

Emma Dressed in Blood

A ghost story inspired by the "Anna Dressed in Blood" book series by Kendare Blake.

For @cssns 2024 event

@kmomof4 @snowbellewells @lifeinahole27 @cocohook38 @ilovemesomekillianjones @teamhook @resident-of-storybrooke

[lalicaaaaa]

Shadow company with young fem reader

Reader is fem coded and being a woman is mentioned

The shadow company had taken a newer shadow In against their own will, graves though that they would be a great add and that they could bring some light to the shadows that they constantly casted.

They had complained because why didn’t they get into the company that easily but commander decisions always (most of the time) made sense. The main reason graves chose you was because you were the only American in the trainee line up and you were blond like him in his youngin days, yeah you could have been the worst out of the bunch and half the fact you were looked down and frowned upon because you were a woman; but graves could give less of a rats ass about how good you were in hand to hand combat or how good you were with a gun.

You looked like a small little female version of him (you are 6’0 only an inch shorter then graves) he sees you as his mini me and his daughter on the daily and he wants to protect you from the mad mad men that are the rest of the shadows(he’s still a major shit headed asshole to you but a little less.)

By the time you were officially a part of the shadow company graves had ran out of numbers because there are over 100 shadows now and he didn’t just want to make you shadow 0-134 so he went to his most trusted shadows and they conjectured up a a name for you they ended coming up with shadow 0-0 red and a new generation of shadows would start from 0 and go up but with different colors for short your official call sign is shadow red, But while out of mission your unofficial call sign is barb like Barbie but barb.

Another thing is half of the shadows are creeped out by you because you rarely talk and only speak when spoken too, like ghost but quieter then ghost. It freaks some of them out because you might just be standing behind them and they turn around and pull a weapon so quick and almost swing on you.

Once coming back from a mandatory medical break you were put on off field duty for a while so to cheer you up (you weren’t even sad but you let them plan whatever) graves bought you some pink cow boy boots, it’s safe to say to make him and the shadows happy when ever you were walking around on off-field duty you wore them and those bitches were hot and made your feet cramp but whatever got them to shut up about how bad they felt you would do whatever it took.

[snowbellewells]

Self Promo Sunday: "For Once, Don't Let Go"

This week's re-run is a Modern AU one shot I wrote for the @cssns event in 2020. I had not ever written much of anything supernatural involving ghosts before, and we were all dealing with the effects of loneliness and being more alone/lonely than normal during that time. Those were the themes I was exploring here. I'd love to hear what you think - if you're revisiting it, or if you're reading it for the first time. Enjoy!

*My artist for the story was @hollyethecurious and she created a stunning picset that I am still in love with!! *

Summary: In some ways, Emma Swan has always been a ghost - alone and floating through life without much to tie her to anyone or any place. However, when she wakes up in an unfamiliar old house and realizes she is stuck haunting the last place she went while alive, it takes a while to reconcile the fact that she is an actual ghost and that there must be something keeping her in the world after all. Then she learns she isn’t the only lost soul in the house. And that changes everything.

Also available on AO3, if that's your preference...

by: @snowbellewells

In some ways, she has always been a ghost. Never fitting in, never belonging anywhere. Abandoned, and so closing her heart on the need to be accepted before she could be denied. It was for that reason, on the first morning of her afterlife, as she blinked awake in a chilled grey dawn that seemed just like any other, Emma Swan did not at first realize she was no longer part of the living world.

There was a strange quiet surrounding her, as she sat up from the bed, which strangely felt much softer, plusher than hers usually did at the end of an exhausting day or the morning after when her bones still ached and her mind never felt quite rested. It was those two things combined - the unaccustomed silence and depth and comfort of the sleep she’d emerged from - that put Emma off balance. It was never that still in the heart of the city, no matter how early in the morning. There was a constant humming undercurrent, a long-accepted background noise accompanying her life in Boston: sirens, horns, the grating and beeping of constant construction, the hubbub of voices, sounds unending. If she were deeply honest with herself (which she didn’t often allow) it was part of what she loved most about the large city on the eastern seaboard; there was so much noise that she could ignore her own thoughts. She didn’t like to dwell on or analyze her motivations for choosing a job where she tracked and found deadbeats who skipped out on those they should have stayed to support. She didn’t acknowledge - not even to herself - that each skip she hauled into the nearest precinct and collected her reward for gave her a sense of satisfaction that almost dulled her unanswered questions about the runners she hadn’t ever found - the parents who left her just after she was born.

So, she was already on edge as she found her feet and moved through the room she was increasingly aware did not look at all like the one in the loft apartment she currently rented, nor were any of her things scattered around as she usually left them. Moving from the room into the hall beyond, and then down a staircase into an entry hall that she knew her small apartment didn’t possess, Emma’s mind struggled to fully wake and understand where she was and how she came to be there.

It wasn’t until she reached the front door - tall, solid wood, but nondescript and standard, nothing too out-of-the-ordinary - that two more revelations struck her almost at once. Reaching out her hand to turn the doorknob, step outside and see if the outside of the house or its surroundings jogged her memory, Emma was shocked to find that her hand wouldn’t grip the metal knob at all, instead passing straight through both doorknob and door itself, sending her sprawling forward with a yelp of startled disbelief. No matter how impossible it seemed, the rest of her followed her outstretched hand, passing through the wooden door as if it simply didn’t exist.

Blinking and stunned from where she had landed on the top step up to the porch outside the strange house she’d woken up in, it was more than a bit hard for Emma to put together what had just happened. She knew her mouth was hanging open, “catching flies” as one of her more affectionate foster moms along the way had playfully called it, but somehow her surprise only increased when she took in the place’s exterior. She did know where she was, despite being at a loss for why she would have woken up there. This was the place where she had tracked her most recent skip last night.

Furrowing her brow in concentration - and admittedly trying not to consider how she had just slipped past a solid barrier and what that might mean - Emma attempted to pull up more from her memory than that. This newest skip had proven pretty slippery; both Ruby and her seductive honey trap skills which Emma didn’t even try to match, and Mulan with her fighting ability and clever moves worthy of her Disney namesake, had failed in previous attempts to bring the guy in and moved on to more productive marks before Emma took on the case. However, she was just stubborn and competitive enough to have wanted to bring in the skip who had become a thorn in the agency’s side; plus, as he kept evading them and the court date grew closer, the price for bringing him in kept climbing. Emma had been thinking just how she might enjoy the whole week off she could afford to take once she caught this scumbag as she’d sidled up next to him at the seedy bar’s pool table and batted her eyes. She’d still been thinking it even as the jerk brushed her off and left soon after, and so she’d followed him - quite stealthily, she believed - to this place later that night. Fine, if he wanted to play hard to get, she wouldn’t play gently either. She welcomed a challenge, and this avoided the awkwardness she had to extricate herself from once honey traps were sprung anyway.

Emma was realizing now, however, that maybe she had been a little too obvious, a little too preoccupied to see that her skip might have been onto her. Had he been suspicious of her from the start, and that was why he didn’t take the bait? Or, had he known what she was truly after the whole time?

The evening dark had been falling in that strange hour where one could still see outside but surroundings were obscured, shadows lengthened and a person sometimes had to squint to find her goal. She had almost hung back, after watching her mark slip in through the unmarked door of the abandoned house at the end of a rather quiet and rundown street in an outskirt suburb. But she’d spent too long tracking the loser - and she wasn’t about to admit any hesitance or unease. Clearly the guy now had either breaking and entering or squatting in his extensive repertoire, and he needed bringing in before he expanded to something more dangerous.

That was what she was telling herself after waiting an interminable twenty minutes and then climbing the rickety steps as she’d watched her perp do. She wasn’t trespassing anymore than he was, the house wasn’t in his name, and if anyone asked… here she tried the door to find it unlocked and opening as she quietly tried it - yep, she could say it was open.

Emma had just taken a steadying breath and inched the door open enough to enter, when she caught movement in her periphery. She tried to duck, wondering wildly if the culprit had been lurking behind the door, when something long and solid swung towards her head too fast for her to avoid. It felt as though the air cracked, then crumbled around her, and everything went black…

That was all she could bring up, no matter how doggedly she tried to remember what came next. After that shattering impact was simply… nothing. And with that sickening fact, Emma knew. She was dead. Some lowlife bail jumper killed her to keep himself from getting caught. Whatever she was hit with, it was done viciously enough to mean her end.

Feeling a tremble begin throughout her legs and arms, up into all her extremities, Emma tried to fight back the swell of emotion - anger, injustice, hurt, loss that clamored to the surface. If there were any justice at all, she ought to at least be free of feeling all the painful emotion she had spent her entire adult life roughly tamping down. But really, she shouldn’t even be surprised. This wasn’t the first time she’d paid the price for someone else’s wrongs - though apparently it would be the last. The blank unfairness of it was what truly got under her skin. Was she always doomed to end up this way? Sprawled out with a cracked skull in the entryway of some old, empty house, punished just for trying to make a living and her own way in the world while exacting a little much-needed justice? No one would even miss her or know she was gone until she didn’t show up to work Monday morning, ready to gloat and collect congratulatory muffins for bringing in the mark her colleagues lost.

As she passed back through the door (and no, that weird sensation of sliding without feeling past a solid barrier did not become any less upsetting or disconcerting) Emma saw the rough wooden board on the floor where her killer must have tossed it afterward and the dried blood - her own, she recognized with a shiver - that she had missed before. She didn’t want to stay there, but she felt pulled back to the upper floor where she had awakened. As if she was not meant to leave yet. Maybe she couldn’t. Maybe she just had nowhere else to go…

Head bowed in resignation, she mounted the stairs, but instead of going back into what had seemed a nondescript bedroom on her first glance, she moved on to the end of the hall. She seemed to have all the time in the world to rattle around this place, reflect on her loneliness and why she was still there. It couldn’t hurt to put off that depressing train of thought and find out what else was there.

Bypassing the room she’d exited earlier that morning, Emma moved toward the end of the second floor hall. Clearly the place had been empty awhile, dust tickled her nose more the more she moved throughout the house, but the color of the rich, deep wood floors, the tall ceilings and eye-catching nautical knick-knacks and framed pictures on the walls showed her the place was once well-loved and lived in with care and pride. By the time she reached the furthest door on the left, almost tucked into a corner of the house, Emma was curious in sprite of her strange situation and uncertainty.

Upon stepping in the room, Emma felt her mouth drop open once again, immediately captured by the sight of four walls of floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, interrupted only by the large, cushioned windowseat under a huge picture window in the wall facing the door. There were books piled on the floor near the windowseat as well, as if to be in easy reach of whomever had sat there to read. Heavy, larger leatherbound tomes that appeared to be atlases or maps also rested on the impressive cherry wood desk in the room’s center. While all of this was stunning, with an air of warm invitation that had Emma blindly inching forward, none of the furnishings were what truly stunned her one more time in a past hour full of riveting surprises. Standing behind the desk, with back turned to the door and studying the wall of books with concentration was a tall, quite formally dressed, man. 

At Emma’s rather stunned noise, the figure turned to look over his shoulder, looking at her with dark arched brow. The gasp that had just escaped her was sucked rather inelegantly back up her throat. The man - well, fellow ghost apparently, as she could hazily see the spines of books lined up through his broad-shouldered form - was the most handsome specimen she had ever seen. His stunning bright blue eyes threatened to again steal the breath the she supposed she shouldn’t possess to begin with.

Wow, that changed things.

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

Surprised in the large library that had stood silent and empty for so many long, uncounted days, Killian Jones couldn’t help scrutinizing the fair haired lass standing on his carpet. The strange haze around her let him know she was a spirit, much as he had been forced to accept he was himself. Still, some nearly forgotten and rusty echo of his former flirtatious nature rose to the surface and her surprised gaze clearly studied him up and down.

“Well, hello there, beautiful,” he murmured, a crooked smile crossing his face as he drank in her blonde hair, sparkling green eyes, and generous curves in equal measure. “You aren’t some marvelous hallucination are you?”

Those sharp eyes rolled in exasperation, the stunned look finally leaving them as she shook her head and shrugged off the compliment. “Hardly,” she snorted, taking a few steps closer to him. “Apparently, I’m a ghost.”

Her words startled a huff of laughter from him with their droll humor. Reaching up to scratch behind his ear, he managed, “Not quite what you’d pictured, I wager?”

“That’s putting it mildly,” she allowed, seeming to understand her welcome and meandering over to sit facing him on the cluttered windowseat’s edge.

Killian allowed a wry grin of his own and nod of agreement. There wasn’t much else to say, but he did understand where she was coming from. It had been rightfully upsetting, earth-shattering, and confusing when he realized he was no longer living and breathing but still wandering the rooms of his house. He was sure there had been a lot of ranting, questioning, and items thrown against the walls before he had accepted his new reality. By that measure, this lovely woman before him was handling her sudden entrance to the afterlife quite well in comparison.

She looked up to capture his eyes with her own and he found he couldn’t look away again. Her face was open, searching, almost as though she were trying to take his measure and decide if he were trustworthy. When she seemed to make a decision and smile warmly at him, Killian found himself swaying closer to her almost unconsciously, rounding the desk to stand before her as though pulled by a magnet. Dipping his head in a sort of playful bow, he offered, “Forgive me, where are my manners? I’m Killian Jones. And you are?”

She reached out her hand to shake, unaccountably grateful that she was able to feel his larger fingers clasp hers without passing through, that she somehow still felt warmth and a zing of awareness at the contact, even if none of it made any sense. “Emma…” she replied, her voice going lighter and more thready than she’d like, “Emma Swan.”

“Hmm…” he murmured lowly, a rumbling hum that she felt along her arm as he brought her hand up to place a kiss on the back of it. “And just who are you, Swan?” he mused.

Swallowing hard, she dove in with the plain truth. “Just a stubborn bail bondswoman who went after the wrong skip this time,” she sighed.

His eyes registered the sadness, the disappointment and melancholy, the resignation to this fate slowly settling over her. He wanted to say it would get better with time, but time was now a funny, nonexistent sort of thing that was impossible to measure and not much help. Instead, he took in her features with understanding and tried to offer what comfort or cheer was possible against the self-doubt, blame, and ‘what-ifs’ beginning to hover. Not only that, they zeroed in on the broken skin, dried red and the purpled bruising at her temple, clearly the killing blow that had been dealt her. His hand reached up of its own volition to touch the soft hair above the wound, a tender brush of fingertips that Emma closed her eyes and leaned into with a relieved sigh. Almost as if he knew how very rare such concern had been in her life - maybe because it had been the same for him. Whatever the reason, they lingered there, two ghosts in the golden morning light through the picture window, drinking in the first real contact either had felt in far too long.

Something linked within them in that very moment - and everything changed again.

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

It would have been funny; in fact, Emma would have laughed in the face of anyone who suggested - even a week before - that she would be killed on an assignment, end up a ghost, and then meet another ghost who would soon know her better than anyone had in life. And yet, within days she and Killian had shared more than she had ever allowed with co-workers, her handful of casual friends, even foster siblings when she’d still been a kid. Granted, she didn’t have much to lose, but it was more than that. She came to learn that Killian was more like her than she could have thought possible; orphaned as a child except for an adored older brother, that brother then killed in service of the British Navy just as Killian had been preparing to finish secondary school and join his elder sibling in service. Apparently the death had been some sort of accident during a routine exercise, and Killian had been awarded a healthy settlement as his brother’s only living relative, but naturally he hadn’t wanted the payout, just his only family back. Since that wasn’t the choice before him, he had taken the money, gotten out of England, and vowed to do something with it that would honor Liam and help someone else - even if it could do nothing for his own shattered heart.

That was how he’d come to befriend a frightened young mother and her infant son not long after he reached Boston. He’d been renting a motel room on a weekly basis until he figured out what he planned to do in the long run. He took a lot of long, aimless walks in the sharp, chill wind off the Atlantic, and one late afternoon he had stumbled into the public library, hoping to warm up, maybe distract himself a bit, and instead had found Belle sniffling as she attempted to read to a fussy Gideon where they were huddled in the children’s section. It hadn’t taken long for them to become friends; easily one of the best friendships he’d ever had. And in short order, Killian had known this was how he could use Liam’s money for good. He’d found a house, invited, then wheedled and cajoled, her to move them into one of the unoccupied wings and stay with him there. It was much too big for him alone he’d argued, and he needed the company, noise and bustle of even the smallest bit of family in his life. Belle had been hesitant, feeling it was too much, too good to be true, but trying to find a living and make a good, safe home for herself and her boy, while also staying unnoticed and under the radar of her wealthy and well-connected ex-husband was becoming more and more impossible. She’d assured Killian that the man had never been physically abusive, but emotionally and mentally he had left his mark. He had been a master of manipulation, had known the law and its loopholes, could afford the best attorneys money could buy and Kilian had not needed psychic abilities to see the woman was terrified he would come to haul her back - or at the very least take her little lad away from her.

That last admission had been uttered some weeks on in their acquaintance - or at least Emma thought it had been weeks, time was hard to measure when one was no longer on a clock and the days flowed from one to another in a similar stream - one night as they sat by a crackling fire in the hearth of the long unused den. Emma had shared a fair amount of her own scars by then. She had been curled up on the opposite end of the sofa, thinking that this would be the perfect occasion for a hot cocoa with whipped cream and cinnamon, what had been her favorite way to unwind in the evening, and marveling at the good heart this man before her possessed, be it beating still or no. Not just anyone would have done so much, given so much of himself, to help a person he barely knew. Nor kindly helped a complete stranger like her adjust to her new reality beyond the pale either.

Suddenly it seemed like there was nothing else to do but to scoot across the sofa to the other end where Killian Jones sat still as a statue. The pain in his eyes, and blame she could see that he carried, broadcast over every line and shifting shadow of his face. Emma couldn’t help but bring her hand up to touch his cheek, to trace along his tightly clenched jaw as his eyes slowly dropped to follow the path of her fingertips, watching her intently as they continued to brush softly over his skin. Emma had wondered numerous times why she couldn’t physically make contact or grasp other objects but she could touch him. Why could they feel each other so strongly? Was it because they were both ghosts? On some other plane together? Or was it something else, something a less jaded person might call Fate or magic?

Whatever the reason, she was grateful for it as she held her breath, catching her lower lip between her teeth awaiting Killian’s reaction. She found every nerve alive and anxious as she watched him, caring more than she ever had about what someone else thought. Was that the key? For so many years in group homes, with foster families, even for a time homeless on the city streets, Emma had shut the world out. She had been born and grown up without the unconditional love and care all people should know, and the natural childish illusions about people’s selfishness or the world’s indifference had been stripped away far too early. Life had turned its back on her, and she had done the same in return. She had closed herself off from emotion and learned all too well that putting her trust in others made it easy to get hurt.

But now, in this old house, with this wonderful, vulnerable spirit before her - all the feelings she had shut off for so long were breaking free. She couldn’t hold them back, and she didn’t want to. She couldn’t really be harmed, wasn’t hustling to get by, and maybe that allowed the fear to recede enough to peak over the top of her walls. Maybe it was just that - despite only knowing him for a short time - she had never met anyone like Killian Jones when she was living. If only she had, she wouldn’t have been lost for so long.

He was blinking away a tear when her focus turned back to his face in that moment. Smiling back with a tiny, empathetic quirk to her lips, Emma brushed the escaped droplet from his skin, whispering, “He found them, didn’t he? Her ex?  Even though you tried to keep them hidden…”

Killian’s head of thick, dark hair bowed, his eyes falling to their laps instead of holding hers. Running her fingers through the coarse strands, Emma ached to comfort him, to somehow lessen the weight he had lost hope of lightening. Whatever had occurred, it couldn’t have been his fault. He had only tried to give them shelter.

His voice was muffled when his forehead had come to rest on her shoulder, and she wrapped her arms around him, cradling him closer in an embrace more binding and intimate than any she had ever experienced. “I don’t know for certain, Swan,” he sighed, his words rough and coming forth in choppy fragments. “It has always seemed so…  Both being expats, Belle and I came to enjoy tea… in the afternoons… I had come home early that day...had a new toy for her Gideon...and I - I couldn’t wait to show it to him. ...When I walked through the front door… I knew immediately….something was wrong… too quiet.. I walked into the kitchen… and the table was all set for tea.  But the plate of biscuits was… strewn across the table… broken crumbs everywhere… and her - her favorite teacup was shattered on the floor…”

Emma tried to take in the devastation he must have felt, the panic and helplessness, all while making soothing noises, almost sorry she’d asked him as the story was wrung from his lips bit by bit. She kept holding him, hoping that her hand stroking over his back and her fingers brushing the hair at the nape of his neck could give some solace. She had never longed to fix someone else’s hurt more than her own. It was frightening in the desire’s intensity, but all she could do was hang on.

“I failed them both…” Killian husked, his voice even more soft and ragged than before. “Of course… I reported them missing… but the case came to nothing… no leads turned up.  He got to them… just as she feared... “

She wished she could tell him otherwise. Her own unshed tears stung in her throat - both for the poor woman and little boy she felt as if she knew through Killian’s stories, and for his pain. Her chest ached with the anguish he had harbored for so long, feeling it as if it were her own. If she could take his pain onto herself and give him peace at last, she would do it without hesitation.

As if in response to her thought and the desire to lend her strength, Emma saw a starling light, nearly blinding her as it appeared over Killian’s shoulder.  She didn’t pull away, but she squinted trying to understand what had materialized from thin air right in front of her. It looked like...yes, it was a door. There, where an archway normally lead from the den to the kitchen, was a simple grey door, but for the brilliant white light emanating from around its edges. It couldn’t be ignored for all its radiance, and it almost seemed to beckon her near, drawing her in.

Her eyes widening, Emma forced herself to turn away, breathing in Killian’s scent from against his neck, hoping that the masculine, spicy aroma he somehow still carried, even in his ethereal state, would reel her in as it had before. She knew what must be making itself known before her, and she couldn’t bring herself to acknowledge what it meant.

Up until that very second, she would have sworn she wanted that door to appear, to pass through it and leave the cold bitterness of Earth behind. She wanted that door opening up for her to move on, but she just as surely wouldn’t leave Killian as she had been left so many times. She couldn’t abandon him.

For the first time Emma could remember, she didn’t want to change the way things were.

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

She shouldn’t have thought the open door would escape Killian’s attention. The man was ridiculously intuitive and seemed to read her like the pages of a favorite book. She had not said a word, had turned back to him, focused on the muscle in his jaw working as he brought his emotions back under control, and managed to ignore the blatant signal beckoning to her until the glow dimmed and the door faded back out of existence. The archway between kitchen and den was just a curve of plaster and paint once more.

But as days passed, Emma coudn’t help worrying occasionally in unguarded moments if a person only got one door. Had she missed her only chance to move on? It wasn’t that she never wanted her peace and rest, or to know what was waiting on the other side. Yet, she couldn’t truly regret her decision either if the alternative had been leaving Killian alone, even if the consequences did trouble her mind.

So she wasn’t sure how Killian had figured it out the morning she came down the stairs to find him already in the kitchen gazing out the window over the sink and bathed in the rising sunshine. Maybe the man was genuinely able to read her mind. He was always able to tell when she entered a room, she conceded as he turned to face her, even before she stepped from the last stair. She felt him the moment he drew near her as well: an awareness, a prickling along her skin, the buzzing sensation of need and desire she had always resisted in life electrified by his presence. Maybe there was no hiding when someone was that close.

With the window and the sunrise at his back, Killian seemed almost outlined by a halo of gold. He came to stand at the counter facing her, and Emma moved to meet him, smiling easily. “Morning,” she offered in greeting, still fighting years’ worth of habitual impulses to start brewing coffee and digging throught he cupboards for cereal - sustenance that she no longer needed.

“Swan,” he’d spoken gently, calmly, but in a way that drew her up and demanded her focus. Reaching out his own larger hand to cover hers where it rested on the countertop, he went right to the heart of the matter. “Emma… what were you thinking?”

She shrugged, trying not to meet his eyes fully as she pretended she didn’t know exactly what he was talking about. “What do you mean?” she asked blankly.

He sighed, that apologetic depth of sorrow in his eyes making her swallow hard when he spoke again. “You saw the light at the end of the tunnel, didn’t you? Your door appeared… The evening we spoke of Belle and Gideon’s disappearance…” He paused, spearing her with the intense blue of his gaze and not allowing her to look away. He cupped her chin between his thumbe and forefinger, stroking along her cheek as he did so, the expression on his face begging her to help him understand. “Why didn’t you step through, Love… and go on to your reward?”

The worry and fear on his unfairly beautiful face showed that he already new exactly why she hadn’t, but he deserved the truth. Emma couldn’t give him anything less. Placing her hands over his, squeezing tightly with feeling, she leaned forward until their noses almost touched. “Killian, don’t ask question you already know the answers to,” she breathed shakily, trying to keep the tremble from her voice long enough to speak. “You must know, surely… it was you.”

His head back as he heaved a deep, rattling breath - breaking away from her as he did so. “I hoped I was wrong,” he admitted. “I don’t want to the reason. You shouldn’t be held back from your paradise because of me.”

For a moment his eyes wouldn’t meet hers as he struggled to regain control of himself. Then, he reached out to wipe the pad of his thumb over her cheek and brush the solitary tear she’d shed away. Not letting him have an out, Emma caught his eye once more. “Paradise, huh?” she tried to tease weakly, desperate to make him smile. He was breaking her heart. “You think an awful lot of me, Buddy. We both know I was no saint.”

A huff of air escaped him that might have been a disgruntled laugh in spite of himself, but he pulled her into him, almost clinging to her for several long minutes before finally breathing in her ear, “Nonsense, Emma. You were meant to be an angel. Don’t give up your peace on account of me.”

She hugged him back, but made no such promise. They would have to disagree on that, and he knew it too. They were both too stubborn to change their minds, so days went on and they went back to almost-normal without speaking of it again. Emma simply had to hope he understood. She didn’t want to argue with Killian, or to ignore his wishes. And she did want to go through her door as well, but when the time was right. She realized now that would have to be when they could both go throught it together.

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

It had been March when she’d met her fate in the quiet old house, and she and Killian had drifted through the spring and summer and early autumn, growing ever closer to each other. They had sat on the porch for long hours talking without getting too hot or worrying about bug bites or sunburn; spent evenings curled together under one quilt in the large windowseat of the library watching lightning flash across the sky and thunder roll on August nights. As September came, they snuggled under the comforter on the bed, her head resting on his chest, her ear over his heart as though she could still heart its beat. If she had thought before that she couldn’t leave him, there was no way she could even imagine it again.

There was a chill in the air the September afternoon a thick, cream-colored envelope landed on the front porch, addressed with Killian’s name and a Ms. Belle French scrawled in top left corner. Emma heard the soft sound of the thick paper landing on the proch slats, and didn stop to question how it had gotten there, why the ghost resident of an supposed abandoned house was receiving mail again, but had hurried to where Killian reading in the library, letter in hand.

A more lovely autumn day had never been than when a slant of later afternoon sun lit Killian’s face as he scanned the letter’s contents, a smile dawning over his countenance as if he coudn’t believe the words before him on the page. “They’re alright,” he murmured, half to himself and half to her. “They got away… thought I should know.”  His eyes continued to skim over the handwritten lines quickly, but his beckoned her close, and stunned smile on his face and light in his eyes that did Emma’s heart good. She could see the guilt and the hurt he had carried lifting from his shoulders with each passing second as she came to perch on the corner of the desk at his elbow.  “They didn’t want me to have to harbor a secret… just missed the people who trashed the house that day, and didn’t want to continue putting me in danger…”

He shook his head in disbelief and then stood to sweep her up in his arms, spinning her around as if he didn’t have a care in the world. Maybe, finally, he didn’t.

It was only as Killian set her back on her feet again, as he picked up her hand to kiss the back of it tenderly, and she hummed in contentment, swaying closer to him that a warm inviting light touched the side of both their faces. Turning as one, Emma recognized the sight that had graced her vision once before, but Kiliian’s eyes widened before turning to hers.  “Is that…?” he breathed, hope and uncertainty and awe blending in the question as it trailed off on his lips. 

She nodded, no words coming to her that she could speak past the lump in her throat.

“Well, then, Swan,” he smiled with the beauty and joy of a man whose heart was free at last. “What do you say we embark on a new adventure?”

“I’d follow you anywhere,” she said with a certainty she felt to the bottom of her soul. Clutching his fingers in her own tightly, she walked with him toward the door wreathed in light that had appeared in middle of the bookshelf. As long as she didn’t have to let go of Killian’s hand.

Tagging a few who might enjoy: @kmomof4 @searchingwardrobes @jennjenn615 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @laschatzi

@jrob64 @apiratewhopines @optomisticgirl @tiganasummertree @xsajx

@teamhook @revanmetra87 @bluewildcatfanatic @jonesfandomfanatic @motherkatereloyshipper

@spartanguard @therooksshiningknight @donteattheappleshook @elizabeethan @the-darkdragonfly

@booksteaandtoomuchtv @anmylica @xarandomdreamx @undercaffinatednightmare @everything-person

@bdevereaux @ultraluckycatnd @gingerchangeling @gingerpolyglot @drowned-dreamer

@kday426 @myfearless-love @eastwesthomeisbest @resident-of-storybrooke @goforlaunchcee

[incorrect-league-of-villains]

Just like to let you know that 'one of the guys that's been in the basement with me for the past four hours' is an incredibly ominous thing to read in the tags without context. Thank you, brave basement dweller 😔

LMFAOOOOOOOOOO

[cs-rylie]

My first CSSNS fic, The Journal! A ghost story based on Native American mythology

Updates every Thursday

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[nursetosoldier]

MOMENTS WHERE BECCA HAUNTED BUCKY'S NARRATIVE.

partners may reblog.

[captainswanholidayspecialreruns]

Captain Swan Christmas Reruns presents: Ghost of Christmases Past

Written by: @snowbellewells

Recommended by: @kmomof4

Summary: {mid-season three divergent holiday angst and fluff} Emma visited by one very special ghost while she and Henry are in New York; you guides her through the Christmases of her past to see what could be waiting in her future... if she will only let herself have it.

What we love: Just a WONDERFUL canon divergence!!!

read it here!

[reyl0ct]

Art dump! Some very new pieces and some older, but I felt like posting my art. Not gonna go into any detail about each individual piece, but all the art is of my ocs. ✨️🌻🖤

[lovebeatriceplz]

When I pull up to the being over - sexualized competition but my opponent Hobie Brown

[jrob64]

Ghosted (Now a complete story!)

Chapter 5 - Moving Forward

Well, the 'short' epilogue I intended to write turned into a 9300+ word final chapter for this story. This chapter does contain two smut scenes (I only planned for there to be one, but these two idiots couldn't keep their hands, and other things, to themselves.) Both my beta @hookedmom and my artist @kmomof4 requested there be smut, and since I owe them so much for their work on this story, I couldn't refuse. If smut is not your thing, look for the double asterisks for when it begins and ends.

STORY SUMMARY: When Emma Swan’s ex-boyfriend dies, she’s haunted by his ghost. Her neighbor, Killian Jones, a ghost hunter who has a YouTube channel, realizes what’s happening and offers to help. However, there’s more at stake than simply helping the apparition move on. There’s also the matter of Killian telling Emma he’s in love with her. 

RATING: M (for smut in this chapter)

WORDS (Ch. 5): 9327

Previous chapters on Tumblr: Ch. 1 Ch. 2 Ch. 3 Ch. 4

Also posted on Ao3 and ffn

*********

Emma and Killian kissed, cuddled and talked into the wee hours of the morning, before the exhaustion from the events of the day finally overtook them. When Killian’s eyes finally blinked open, bright sunlight was shining through the opening between the curtains in Emma’s bedroom. He was unwilling to wake her by trying to reach her phone on the nightstand to check the time, so he decided to be content holding her in his arms, reflecting on everything that happened between the two of them in the last two days.

Now that Neal’s ghost was hopefully gone for good, they could go on the date they discussed - was it really only a day ago? A lot had happened since then. No wonder the two of them slept so late.

Slowly, he brought his hand up to brush Emma’s hair away from the side of her face. Since she was lying on her side facing away from him, he was unable to see her features, but he could tell she was relaxed and sleeping peacefully. After watching her experience nightmares several times without being able to help, he was very happy he had a hand in helping her find that peace.

As his mind began to wander, he considered how things were going to change. Now that their feelings were revealed, he and Emma would obviously be spending more time together - going out on dates and frequenting each other’s apartment more often. Belle and Will started dating, which might affect the dynamics of the work environment.

Liam would move on.

Sudden tears burned Killian’s eyes. Liam’s unfinished business was making sure Killian had someone to love, and now he had Emma. It was only a matter of time before he would be saying goodbye to his brother again.

While visits from Liam’s spirit weren’t the same as having him there physically, at least he could speak with him and feel his presence. Once he was gone, Killian wouldn’t even have that comfort anymore. He had faith that one day he would spend eternity with Liam in Heaven because he and his brother were both believers in Jesus. At least they wouldn’t meet the same fate as Neal, but his time with his brother on Earth would be over

Suddenly, a thought struck Killian for what he was ashamed to realize was the first time. Liam had stayed because he needed to make sure his ‘little brother’ was going to be okay, even at the cost of his own peace. The fact that Killian never considered that before made him feel like the most selfish person in the world. Of course it would be difficult to say that final goodbye, but if anyone deserved to be at rest, it was his loyal big brother.

With his mind so totally engrossed with thinking about Liam, he failed to recognize that Emma had awakened and turned to face him. It wasn’t until he felt her fingers on his cheek that he shook himself out of his thoughts.

“Killian?” she asked, a furrow of concern across her forehead. “Are you okay?”

He briefly considered telling her he was fine, but didn’t want to lie to her. “I, uh, I was just thinking…about Liam.”

“Did you get another visit from him?”

“No, not this morning. It’s just, I…I’ve been incredibly selfish,” he admitted.

“You? Killian Jones, you don’t have a selfish bone in your body. Why would you say that?”

“Because,” he started, then closed his eyes and took several breaths, trying not to get emotional. “Because he…he’s stayed here with me for six years. Six years, Emma! He could have been enjoying his eternal rest for six years, but hasn’t because he’s been too worried about watching over me.”

“But that was his choice, wasn’t it?”

“The last thing Mum told him before she passed was to take care of me,” he said, tears falling unbidden from his eyes. “And Liam is so stubborn, he wouldn’t move on without making sure I was going to be happy and…”

“In love?” she finished.

“Aye.”

She brushed away his tears, first from one cheek, then the other. “Now that we are,” she said quietly, “his unfinished business is done, isn’t it?”

He nodded, dropping his eyes.

“And he’ll be moving on,” she stated simply.

“Aye, and even though he’s put that off for so long because of me, I still don’t want him to go. Which proves that I’m the most selfish person alive.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Emma said firmly. “You love your brother and don’t want to lose him. Again.” When he still wouldn’t look at her, she took his face between her hands. “Killian, my love, I know it’s going to be hard for you to say goodbye to him. Wanting to hang onto him is natural, but you’ve had more time with him than most people who lose someone they love. Just think of it though - he’ll be in Heaven watching over you. Someday, you’ll be reunited with him and you’ll never have to say goodbye again.”

He attempted to smile, but couldn’t quite manage it. She gathered him in her arms, holding him tightly and rubbing comforting hands along his back and through his hair.

“Thank you, Love,” he whispered hoarsely, emotion clogging his throat.

She didn’t answer, but gave him a gentle kiss on the lips and continued to calm his racing mind and aching heart with her gentle, loving touch. Just when he finally felt like he had his sorrow under control, her stomach rumbled loudly, causing both of them to laugh.

He reluctantly pulled himself away from her embrace, cocking an eyebrow as he asked, “Would you like some breakfast, Swan?”

“What time is it?” she asked, stretching her arms over her head.

Killian spotted her phone on the nightstand, picked it up and tapped the screen to see the time. “Eleven-seventeen.”

“In the morning?” Emma gasped. “Why did you let me sleep so late?”

“I woke up just a few minutes before you. It was an extremely eventful and exhausting day yesterday, so I believe we earned the right to sleep in. Is there somewhere you need to be today?”

She thought for a moment. “No, I don’t think I have anything going on - today is my day off.”

“In that case, I vote for being lazy all day.”

“You don’t have anything to do, either?”

“No, except to call…shit! I’m sure Will and Belle are wondering what happened last night.”

“Why don’t you call them while I take a shower, then we’ll get something to eat.”

“Sounds like a plan, if you think you can survive without eating for that long.”

“Hey, I survived being haunted by a ghost who was intent on killing me, I think I can go a few more minutes without food.”

He chuckled as he threw back the covers and swung his legs over the side of the bed. “Fair point, Love. I need to find my phone. I don’t remember where I put it.”

“I’m pretty sure you didn’t bring it into the bedroom last night. I saw it on the coffee table while you were reading to me. And speaking of coffee…”

“I’ll start the coffee maker while you shower.” Twisting his body around to look at her, he asked, “Will you be okay? The last time you took a shower was pretty traumatic for you.”

She pulled her knees up and wrapped her arms around them. “How sure are you that he’s gone?”

“I’ve never experienced something like that before, but after what we witnessed last night, I’m almost positive. However,” he smirked, “if you’re afraid to take a shower alone, I could join you.”

She playfully nudged him with her shoulder. “Thanks for the very generous offer, but I think I can manage.”

He grinned. “Well, if you’re sure, I’ll go find my phone.” Leaning in, he gave her a kiss, then stood up and left the room.

After switching on the coffee maker, he found his device right where Emma said. Swiping his finger across it, he saw several notifications on the lock screen. When he unlocked it, his messages icon announced nine texts.

As he sat down to begin reading them, he heard the bathroom door close. He sat frozen until he heard the water begin to run, then let out a relieved breath. Turning his attention back to the messages, he saw six of them were from Will and three from Belle, all asking what happened with increasing degrees of intensity. He laughed at the final one from Will, which simply said, “ARE YOU FUCKING DEAD????”

Quickly dialing his number, he wasn’t surprised when Will picked up after less than a complete ring. “What the fuck, Kil?” he exploded. “You said you’d let us know what happened last night. Here it is, middle of the day and not a bloody word from ya! We’re on pins and needles over here.”

“We?” Killian questioned. “Does that mean Belle is there with you?”

“Aye. We were texting back and forth this mornin’, seein’ if you’d bothered to contact either of us, so she just came over to my place. That way, if a police officer showed up at my door to tell me my best friend had been found dead because of an attack by a ghost, at least we’d be together for the news.”

“Dial down the dramatics, Scarlett,” Killian said. “I’m sorry I didn’t contact you, but we just woke up a few minutes ago. And before you start making remarks about what kept us up so late…”

“Why would ya think I would do somethin’ like that?” Will interrupted.

“Because I know you.”

“Will,” Belle piped up, “let Killian tell us what happened.”

“Sorry, boss. Did Cassidy show up?”

“He did. I was able to enter Emma’s dream and wake her up from the trance…”

“How were you able to do that?” Belle asked.

“I, uh…I kissed her,” Killian admitted.

“So screamin’ in her face didn’t work, but kissin’ her did?” Will asked.

“How romantic,” Belle sighed.

“Anyway,” Killian said, eager to move ahead with the story, “as soon as Emma was awake, she yelled at Neal, telling him she didn’t want to die and spend eternity with him because that would literally be hell for her.”

“Bravo, blondie!” Will interjected.

“She was bloody brilliant, but of course Neal didn’t give up. He kept trying to pull her away from me, until she screamed at him to go to Hell.”

“Then what happened?” Belle asked, obviously on the edge of her seat.

“I don’t know how I’m going to be able to describe the next events to you. I’ve never seen anything like it and I hope I never do again.” Killian took a few moments, picturing the chaotic scene in his mind. “A huge, black opening appeared and a Hell beast came out of it, along with a bunch of its minions.”

“Oh, my word!” Belle exclaimed. “What did they look like?”

Killian described the beasts the best he could and could hear Belle gasp, while Will muttered, “Bloody fucking hell.”

Killian paused the story when he heard the shower shut off, listening intently for several seconds. “Can you hold on for a minute?” he asked his friends.

“What? You’re leavin’ us hangin’ at this point in the story?” Will protested.

“I’ve got to go check on Emma. She’s getting out of the shower, and after what happened yesterday…”

“Go ahead. We’ll wait,” Belle said.

Killian quickly moved to the bathroom door and tapped on it gently. “Swan? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m not being harassed by a ghost this time,” she replied.

“Okay,” he chuckled. “Just checking.”

“Thanks. I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

“I’m in the middle of updating Will and Belle, so take your time.”

He went back out into the living room and picked up his phone. “Alright, where was I?”

“The Hell beasts just entered the picture,” Will reminded him.

“Right. They started coming after Neal and he screamed for Emma to help him. Then they just turned and left him, going back into the abyss.”

“They didn’t take him with them?” Will growled.

“No, but shortly afterwards these spikey, fiery ropes came out, wrapped themselves around him and dragged him away.”

“Wow!” Belle exclaimed.

“But it was all a dream, wannit?” Will pointed out.

“Supposedly, but I think the events actually happened.” Killian explained his theory about Neal creating the nightmares and pulling Emma into them. As he was finishing up, she walked into the living room, dressed in yoga pants and a loose V-neck shirt. Sitting down on the arm of the couch, she flung her arm around his shoulders and leaned into him.

“Hi Belle. Hi Will.”

Will called out a greeting, as Belle said, “Hello, Emma. Sounds like you had quite an adventure last night.”

“You can say that again. I assume Killian told you about everything that happened?” When Belle and Will both murmured their assurances, she continued, “We think Neal’s really gone this time.”

“I bloody well hope so,” Will said. “I hate to think of anyone spendin’ eternity in Hell, but after what that tosser put you through, I can’t say I feel very sorry for him.”

“We should be able to get the double episode on YouTube by the end of next week,” Belle said.

“Hey Kil, if ya don’t want us sayin’ anything about how you could get into Emma’s dreams, how are we gonna explain what happened to the spirit?” Will asked.

“Oh, that’s a good point,” Belle said.

“We’ll figure something out,” Killian answered, “but right now, Emma and I are going to get something to eat. We’re both famished.”

They said their goodbyes with a promise to get together the next day to go over edits for the episodes.

“What would you like to eat, Love?” Killian asked, rising from the couch and stretching his arms above his head.

“Technically, it’s lunch time, but we missed breakfast and I would really like a breakfast pizza.”

“That sounds good to me. Do you want it delivered?”

“Sure. Do you like Petey’s Pizza? They’ve got a good one .”

“I haven’t had it before, but I’ll take your word for it.”

They ordered the pizza, then Killian went to his apartment to take a shower while they waited for it to be delivered. He was relieved that Emma wasn’t worried about being left alone. Still, he grabbed the infrared thermometer and EMF meter before heading back to her place, just to ensure she had peace of mind.

The instruments didn’t register any paranormal activity then, or either of the other two times he tested for it during the day. They stuck to their plan of being lazy all day - watching three Mission Impossible movies while lying on the sofa together, putting in another DoorDash order for dinner, and sharing childhood memories, all interspersed with very enjoyable make-out sessions.

“This is nice,” Emma said, after one such session. “I almost forgot what it feels like to relax.”

“Mmm, it is nice,” Killian agreed, lazily running his fingers through her hair. “I was wondering…”

She pulled back a bit to look into his face. “About what?”

“About when we should go on our first date.”

“Did you have a specific day in mind?”

“It depends on your schedule. Mine is pretty flexible.”

She twisted around to reach her phone on the coffee table and opened her calendar app. “I work the next three evenings. Ashley and I switched shifts on Thursday because she’s going on a field trip with her daughter that afternoon. How about that evening?”

“That’s fine with me. They have trivia night at my favorite pub on Thursdays, so perhaps we could go there after going out to eat. What do you think?”

“That sounds fun. Do you know where Neal took me on our first date? To the horse races. I know some people enjoy it, but he didn’t even ask me if I liked racing, which I don’t, by the way. Then he spent most of the evening schmoozing with rich snobs, introducing them to me like I was supposed to be impressed.”

“If you had such a bad time, why did you go out with him again?”

“After we were there for a couple of hours, I told him to take me home. That’s when he figured out I wasn’t having a good time. He apologized all the way home and asked me to give him a second chance. Unfortunately, I did.”

“Does it bother you to talk about him?” he asked.

She thought for a moment before saying, “It used to, but not any more. I’m just glad I don’t have to put up with him or his ghost any longer.” Then a tiny smile quirked up the corners of her mouth and her eyes sparkled. “We won.”

“That we did, Love.”

“I’m still amazed that you woke me with a true love’s kiss. It’s like something out of a fairy tale.”

“It was a long shot. I had to try.”

She kissed him, then burrowed into his chest. “I’m looking forward to going on our date, but I hope I won’t have to wait until Thursday to see you again.”

“You can see me anytime you like. I’m right next door, you know.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want to bother you when you’re working.”

“That’s the advantage to having a non-traditional job. I can set my own hours.”

“What about Belle and Will?”

“Evenings work better for Belle because she works at the library during the day, and Will doesn’t usually roll his lazy arse out of bed until afternoon.”

“But he sent you all of those texts this morning.”

“I’m sure he sent them while he was lying in bed.”

Emma giggled. “Do you ever give the poor guy a break?”

“He’s my best friend. I have to take the piss out of him now and then, and he does the same to me. It’s just the way we get along.”

“Take the piss out of him? What exactly does that mean?”

“Ah, it means to poke a bit of fun at him,” he explained. “Anyway, I don’t want to wait until Thursday to see you again, either. Being with you as much as I have, albeit under stressful circumstances, has spoiled me and I don’t want to go back to only seeing you sporadically.”

“Good,” she said simply, stretching up to begin another round of kisses.

*********

As much as he hated to leave Emma, Killian went back to his own apartment to sleep. While it was true their relationship was deepening, he didn’t want to assume he would be welcome to stay the night. The nights he spent with her were out of necessity to protect her and help get rid of Neal’s spirit. Now that it was gone, Killian was going to leave the choice to her.

He was surprised when Liam didn’t make an appearance for the next three days and, with a sinking feeling, was wondering if his brother had moved on without telling him goodbye. The niggling idea that Liam might have little to no warning for when his spirit moved on, or that he wanted to spare his younger brother the pain of saying that final farewell wouldn’t leave Killian’s brain. He kept busy going through the edits with Belle and Will in the evenings and spending several hours a day with Emma, but Liam was never far from his thoughts.

As he prepared for his date Thursday afternoon, he realized with surprise that he was nervous, even though he had spent the better part of a week in her presence. They talked about their expectations for their developing relationship and briefly touched on their hopes for the future, but actually taking a step in that direction was a big deal.

There was also the prospect of taking their physical relationship a step further. Their make-out sessions had grown increasingly passionate and it was becoming more difficult to bring them to a halt. They actually discussed the possibility of becoming more intimate and Emma informed him that she was on birth control. Following her break-up with Neal, she had gone to the doctor to make sure he didn’t give her any STDs. Killian assured her he tested clean also, and hadn’t been with anyone since he moved across the pond.

So as he straightened the collar of his royal blue button-down and examined his image in the mirror, he was trying not to get ahead of himself. He was determined to enjoy every moment with his lady love without letting the anticipation of what might happen intrude.

Checking his phone, he saw that it was five minutes before the time he told Emma he would be at her apartment. He stuck his wallet in his back pocket, keys and phone in his front pockets and headed for the door.

Standing in front of Emma’s apartment, he silently gave himself a quick pep talk, then blew out a breath and knocked. She opened the door immediately, as though she had been on the other side waiting impatiently.

Killian had seen Emma wear many different outfits. Dressy clothes for work and going out on dates, casual clothes, sleepwear, and even in nothing but a towel once, but he was unprepared for the vision she presented for their first date. He suspected it wasn’t that her attire was anything special, it was that she was dressed specifically to go out with him.

She was in form fitting, dark wash jeans, a short-sleeved cranberry colored blouse with a sweetheart neckline that gave him just a peek of her cleavage, and matching heels. Her hair was pulled up on one side, fastened with a silver barrette, while the rest fell in golden waves around her shoulders.

“Hey,” she breathed, a smile crossing her face, which was graced with just the right amount of flattering makeup. “You’re right on time.”

“Well, traffic wasn’t bad,” Killian grinned. “Ready to go?”

“Let me grab my purse and sweater.”

His nerves settled during the drive to the restaurant as their conversation flowed as easily as ever. They enjoyed a delicious meal, sharing an appetizer, then gave each other samples of their food once the dinner course was served.

Trivia at the pub proved to be a lot of fun. They laughed at some of the goofy answers they and other players came up with, and impressed each other with the obscure facts they knew. In the car on the way home, they bantered back and forth playfully.

“No men of college age should know so much about Sex in the City,” Killian groused.

“Oh, come on,” Emma teased. “They probably binge watched it during their freshman year before upperclassmen showed them the ropes.”

“Perhaps they should have looked into getting fake IDs instead of sitting in their dorm filling their heads with such nonsense.”

“You’re just upset they beat us.”

He glanced over at her with a raised brow. “As you should be, too, Swan. I know how competitive you are.”

She shrugged. “I didn’t really care about winning. I was just having fun playing.”

He reached over and took her hand, bringing it to his lips to kiss her fingers. “I’m very happy you enjoyed yourself, Love.”

“I have to say this first date is the best I’ve ever had.”

“Is it, indeed?”

“Aye, it is,” she said, in a sad attempt to copy his accent.

He chuckled. “I’m glad the date was better than your British accent.”

“Hey!” she protested, swatting his arm with the back of her hand.

He laughed again as he pulled into the parking garage, wheeling the car into his assigned spot. As she gathered her things, he exited the car, rushing around to open the door for her, just as he had all evening.

They walked up the stairs hand-in-hand, still chatting about the trivia contest. When they stopped at Emma’s door, she turned toward him. “I know most first dates end a bit awkwardly, saying we had a good time and trying to figure out if there will be a kiss. I feel like we’ve moved beyond that point, so I’m going to take a bold step and ask you to spend the night with me.”

His eyes widened before a slow grin spread across his face. “That’s an offer I can’t refuse.”

“Mrs. Jones didn’t raise a fool, did she?”

“No, she did not.” He leaned in and touched his lips to hers. When she turned and unlocked her door, his hands went to her hips and he nuzzled into her neck.

They entered the apartment, quickly closing the door behind them. Then they were in each other’s arms, hands and lips roaming. Killian started backing her toward the couch, but she gasped, “Bedroom,” and changed their direction.

By the time they stumbled through the doorway to her room, she had his shirt unbuttoned and was tugging it out of his jeans. “Eager, are you?” he breathed into her ear.

“You have no idea.”

“Oh, trust me, I do.”

*****

*****

Her hands caressed his chest and abs, sending shivers of pleasure up his spine. As she pushed his shirt over his shoulders, he accommodated her by shrugging out of it, letting it drop to the floor. She sucked a mark into the dip below his collar bone, then raised her eyes to look up at him through her lashes, biting her bottom lip.

His fingers found their way under the hem of her blouse, stroking the soft skin there while he began scattering kisses along the slope of her neck. The moan she made went straight to his groin, which was already stirring to life.

She put a little distance between their bodies, her hands coming up to frame his face, “I love you, Killian,” she said, then kissed him with abandon. He would have happily continued kissing her, but she interrupted it to pull her blouse over her head.

His breath stuttered as his eyes raked down her form, taking in the smooth expanse of skin from her throat to her chest. His hands instinctively moved up her arms to her shoulders, where they encountered the straps to her blush pink bra. Lifting his eyes briefly to seek her permission, he saw her pupils were large and dark with desire.

She gave him a slight nod and his eyes dropped again, finding a scar just above her left breast. He traced it lightly, asking, “How did you get this?”

“Burned it with hot grease when I was a teenager.”

He bent to kiss the spot tenderly, as his hands made their way around to her back. After unhooking her bra, he pulled the straps down, exposing her breasts to his sight. The garment joined their shirts on the floor, but neither of them noticed. Killian’s mouth and hands were busy licking and fondling, while Emma’s head was thrown back, moans of pleasure escaping her.

“So beautiful,” he murmured between kisses. “So bloody perfect.” Sucking a nipple into his mouth, his right hand sneaked down to her ass and gave it a squeeze. “Killian,” she gasped, her nails scratching across his back.

“Hmm?” he hummed, too busy sucking small marks around her areolas to be bothered.

Now it was her turn to squeeze his ass, and pull him against her, needing friction against her throbbing clit. As she stepped backwards, she lost her balance when the back of her legs encountered the bed. She landed on it and, unable to stop himself, he fell on top of her.

“Sorry,” he apologized, immediately rolling off of her.

She sat up and used the opportunity to start working on his belt buckle. He stopped her and she huffed in frustration.

“I’ll get mine, you get yours,” he said, making quick work of the belt and starting to remove his jeans.

She stood up and undid the button and zipper of her pants, pushing them down her legs, along with her panties. When she tried to step out of them, she realized she was still wearing her heels. As she kicked them off, one of them flew across the room, hitting the wall beside her dresser. “Oops,” she muttered, and Killian chuckled.

As she struggled to free her feet from the muddle of her clothes, he succeeded in removing the rest of his. Emma was in front of him, the perfect globes of her ass on full display. His large hands caressed them as he leaned forward, lightly biting her right cheek. She let out a surprised yelp as he licked the spot, then kissed it.

“D-do that again,” she said.

Killian obliged, moving to her left buttock. This time, she groaned and thrust her backside toward him. Realizing this was a turn-on for her, he continued nipping, licking, sucking and kissing her soft flesh, inhaling the scent of her growing arousal.

After lavishing attention on her ass for many long, titillating moments, he dipped his fingers between her legs. Finding her slick already, he slid his digits through her folds. She widened her stance, giving him more freedom to explore. He took the opportunity to find her bundle of nerves, rubbing small circles over it.

“Killiannnn,” she moaned, her hands moving to her breasts, squeezing and pinching her nipples.

The thought of her fondling herself, combined with the heady scent coming from her cunt, had him rock hard in an instant. Spreading her folds apart with the fingers of one hand, he slipped his other index finger into her opening.

“Oh, fuck!” she exclaimed, her legs beginning to shake. Killian removed his fingers then tugged her down onto his lap, his erection sliding through her folds as he did, making them both groan.

Emma reached down to wrap her hand around his cock, lifting herself slightly to rub the head of it against her clit.

“Emma,” he gasped, wrapping his arms around her and licking a long stripe up her spine.

She continued pleasuring herself, her movements becoming jerky and her breath coming out in short pants. Killian’s hands found her breasts and squeezed them hard, which was enough to push her over the edge. She cried out his name, throwing her head back in ecstasy.

His arms wrapped around her and he rolled them into the middle of the bed, her body still shaking from her orgasm.

“Need you…inside me…now,” she pleaded. “Please, Killian!”

He pushed himself up on his forearms, looking down on her flushed, wanton body beneath him. Cradled between her thighs, he lined himself up, but first leaned down to kiss her. “I love you, Emma,” he said, then began pushing into her depths.

She was so highly aroused, he met no resistance and was soon fully seated within her still-throbbing walls. “Gods, Emma,” he groaned. “You feel so bloody fucking good.”

“So…do you.” Planting her hands firmly on his backside, she panted, “Move, Killian. Please move.”

“As…you…wish…” he responded, slowly pulling out and pushing back in on every word.

Her legs wrapped around his hips, encouraging him to keep going. Soon, they found a very pleasurable rhythm together, their movements accompanied by the sounds of sex - groans, pleas, gasps, and the wet slapping of skin against skin.

When he could feel himself getting close, he pulled almost completely out, then thrust all the way back in, the force of it rattling the headboard.

“Yes!” Emma cried out. “Yes, Killian!”

Spurred on by her shouts, he continued his actions until he could feel her core tightening around him. Her arms and legs pulled him against her tightly and she bucked up into him, chasing her peak once again.

When she reached it, her mouth opened in a silent scream, her nails raking up and down his back. The rippling of her spasming walls triggered his own release and his body jerked with its intensity.

Collapsing on top of her, he fought to catch his breath. “That was…”

“I know,” she panted.

*****

*****

He started to move, but she wrapped her arms around him to keep him close. Nuzzling his nose into the crook of her neck, he licked at the salty sweat he found there. She sighed and he could hear the contentment it contained.

“I love you,” she whispered.

“Mmm, love you, too.”

They lay quietly for several minutes, simply enjoying the way their bodies fit together. Finally, Emma broke the silence.

“You’re screwed, you know. In more ways than one.”

He laughed. “What do you mean, Love?”

“Well, it’s gonna be very difficult for you to top this date. It’s all downhill from here.”

He pushed up to his elbows to look down at her grinning face. “Is that so?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Maybe next time I’ll give you three orgasms. That would be better, yeah?”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” she teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Oh, I’ll be able to keep it, my love. Just wait and see.”

Her fingers moved to sift through his hair. “I look forward to it.”

*********

They awoke slowly the next morning, both tired from their pleasurable activities, which they repeated in the middle of the night. “G’morning,” Emma yawned, pressing her naked body against him.

“Good morning, Love,” Killian replied, his body reacting to her closeness. He dipped his head and began leaving small kisses behind her ear.

“Wh-what time is it?” she asked, tilting her head so he had more access.

“Does it matter?”

“Yeah, because I…fuck, that feels good.”

His chuckle rumbled in her ear. “You what?”

“I’m meeting Ruby for lunch at eleven.”

He reached over her to grab his phone off the nightstand. “It’s nine forty-five.”

“Shit. I better get in the shower. She’ll kick my ass if I’m late.”

“This ass?” he asked, his hands moving to squeeze it.

“You’re not helping,” she reprimanded, but was unable to keep a straight face.

“How about if I help you take a shower?” he asked, his eyebrows doing that flirtatious thing she loved. “You won’t turn that offer down a second time, will you?”

She threw back the covers and sat on the edge of the mattress, running her hands through her sex-mussed hair. He scooted closer to press kisses to the base of her spine. When she stood up, he could see the love bites he left on her the night before. It gave him an odd thrill of satisfaction, knowing he marked her as his.

“You didn’t give me an answer,” he reminded her.

Emma walked through the doorway as if she hadn’t heard him, then leaned back in and purred, “I didn’t say no.”

He was out of bed in record time.

*********

Killian entered his apartment with a dreamy smile on his face. Saying goodbye to Emma hadn’t been easy, especially after their highly enjoyable time together in the shower. Before leaving, she invited him to come over after she got home from work that evening. That left him with several hours to finish adding narration to the YouTube episode. After doing that and viewing it critically one more time, it would be ready to post the next day.

He had been working in his office for twenty minutes when he felt a familiar sensation. Turning his chair around, he saw Liam’s spirit hovering in the doorway. “Hello, little brother.”

Killian was so relieved to see him, he didn’t even object to the moniker. “Where have you been? I don’t think you ever went this long between visits before.”

“You seem to be away from your apartment a lot these days.”

“Aye, well,” Killian said, scratching behind his ear. “I was helping Emma. We were finally able to make Neal’s ghost move on.”

“How did you manage to do that?”

“I took your advice and used true love’s kiss.”

“Ah, that’s good to hear. Did he go to Heaven or…?”

“No. He was dragged away by Hell beasts.”

“It’s eternal damnation for him then, poor bastard, and eternity is an awfully long time.”

“Yes it is, but he made his choices. Now he has to pay the price,” Killian said. “But I don’t want to talk about him anymore, Liam. It’s good to see you.”

“Good to see you, too. You look…different. Happier. Wait a minute, did you say you used true love’s kiss? Does that mean what I think it means?”

“It does. Even before we admitted our feelings of love to each other, the kiss worked.”

“She loves you, too,” Liam said matter-of-factly.

“She does. We went on our first date last night.”

“How did it go?”

Killian could feel the heat creeping into his face and knew the tips of his ears were probably bright red. “We had a great time! Afterwards, she, uh, she asked me to spend the night with her.”

Liam’s reaction wasn’t what Killian expected. He thought his brother would tease and embarass him. Instead, Liam gave him a slight smile that seemed a bit sad. “You’re finally with the woman you love,” he said simply.

Killian stood up and moved toward his brother’s apparition. He knew Liam wasn’t corporeal so he wouldn’t be able to touch him, but at that moment, he couldn’t bear to have any distance between them.

“I’m sorry, Liam.”

“Sorry for what, Killy?”

“For wanting to hang onto you. You could have been at rest years ago, if not for me.”

Even as translucent as he was, Killian could see Liam’s eyes soften. “If I wanted to move on, I would have, but I wanted to be with you as much as you wanted me to stay. I wouldn’t have been at peace knowing that I was leaving you alone. I love you, little brother.”

“I love you, too,” Killian said, tears filling his eyes. “Thank you for being here for me all my life. I hope I’ll make you proud.”

“I have no doubt you will. You always have,” Liam said, his voice beginning to fade rapidly. “Live a long life with Emma and be happy, Killian. Mum and I will be waiting for you on the other side. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye, Liam. Rest in peace.”

Liam raised his hand in a final greeting, giving Killian one last smile. Then his apparition drifted upward until it disappeared through the ceiling.

Killian stood staring at the spot for a long time, tears trickling down his cheeks. In the last week, he had watched two spirits move on, headed to very different destinations. He was beyond grateful that Liam would be in a place of golden light and eternal joy.

*********

When Killian entered Emma’s apartment that evening, she took one look at him and said, “Liam moved on, didn’t he?”

His head dropped. “Aye. He came to tell me goodbye this afternoon.”

She immediately wrapped her arms around him, rubbing soothing circles on his back with one hand, while the other softly sifted through his hair.

They didn’t make love that night. Emma realized he needed her more emotionally than physically, so they went to bed and she held him in her arms, comforting him until they both fell asleep. Although she hated how much he was hurting, she was pleased to have a chance to reciprocate all the support and help he provided while she was being haunted.

The next evening, they watched the episode he had posted on YouTube that day. Emma was amazed at the professionalism, and appreciative of how careful they were to conceal her identity. He skirted the issue of being able to enter her dreams by saying the subject had ‘an intensely emotional reaction’ that broke her out of her trance-like state.

The couple spent nearly every available minute of the next two weeks in each other’s company, but eventually, real life intervened in their happy little bubble. Killian and Will spent a week in Montgomery, Alabama, investigating a symphony hall that was reportedly being haunted by a sad flutist who wished to be reunited with the trumpet player she loved.

Both men facetimed their ladies for hours each night they were gone, unashamed to admit how much they missed the woman they loved.

When they returned, Emma peppered Killian with questions about the investigation. “Did you get any answers using the flux response device? What was the highest spike you got on the EMF meter and infrared thermometer? Were there any unexplained light anomalies? What did you collect on the digital voice recorder?”

“Hold on,” he laughed, looping his arms around her waist to tug her against him. “I thought you weren’t interested in all the paranormal stuff. Since when do you know all of the technical terms and the correct names of the instruments?”

“Since I started watching my ghost hunter boyfriend’s YouTube channel.”

“You did?”

“Well, I missed you like crazy and watching it made me feel closer to you. Seeing you do your thing was a real turn-on for me,” she grinned slyly.

“It was, huh?” he asked, nuzzling into her neck. “Tell me, Love - what else turns you on?”

“What you’re doing right now,” she gasped, as he nibbled on her earlobe.

“How about this?” he asked, squeezing her ass.

“You know how much I love that.”

He did indeed know. During their many lovemaking sessions, he discovered that she adored having him pay special attention to her backside. Nipping, licking and sucking marks into it during foreplay never failed to make her writhe and moan.

“Do you know what’s a turn-on for me?” he breathed into her ear.

“Hmm?”

“You using terms like ‘EMF meter’ and ‘digital voice recorder’.”

“Oh, really? What about infrared thermometer?” She leaned back to look into his lust-filled eyes. “Or flux…” She licked a stripe up one side of his neck. “Response…” A lick up the other side. “Device.” She pushed the collar of his shirt aside and sucked a mark under his collarbone.

He growled and hoisted her up into his arms. She giggled and wrapped her legs around him, continuing to find skin to suck and lick as he carried her to the bedroom. Dropping her onto the bed, he hovered over her, smiling down at her gorgeous, beaming face.

“I missed you, Swan,” he said tenderly, then bent to kiss her, trying to pour all of his longing and love into it.

*****

*****

Despite being apart for over a week, they took their time reaquainting themselves with each other’s body. Killian slid Emma’s shirt up, kissing every inch of skin revealed. After he tossed it on the floor, he sucked on each of her nipples through the lacy fabric of her bra. She reached around to unhook it, slipping it off so he could lavish attention on her breasts. While he did that, she unbuttoned his shirt, her fingers uncoordinated in their eagerness.

Once his shirt was yanked free, she undid his belt buckle and slid it out of the loops. His attention was still on her breasts when she managed to work her hand inside his jeans to grasp his cock. He hissed in surprise and pleasure, quickly reaching down to undo the button and zipper to give her easier access.

His eyes closed and his head fell back as she squeezed and stroked, bringing him to full erection. “Emma,” he moaned.

She pushed him back slightly and sat up, shoving his jeans and underwear over his hips. Then her mouth was taking him in, her hands grasping his ass to give her leverage. His hands moved to her hair, lightly pressing on her head to encourage her endeavors.

The sounds she was making as she swirled her tongue over the head, licked up the shaft and sucked him into her mouth had him nearly coming on the spot. When she took him in deeper and swallowed around him, he gently but firmly pulled her off. “Please stop, Love.”

“You don’t like it?” she asked, looking up at him through her lashes.

“It feels incredible, but if you keep going, I’m not going to last, and I want to be inside you when I come.”

She smiled, kissed his tip, then helped him finish removing his clothes.

“My turn,” he said. “Lie back, Love.”

She eagerly did as she was told, her feet still on the floor. He slid her yoga pants and panties off, then knelt on the floor, pushing her knees apart and settling between them. Kissing up the inside of her thighs, he moved slowly toward her heat. The scent of her arousal enveloped him and he inhaled deeply. Her legs trembled around him as he spread her open and dragged his tongue through her folds.

“So bloody intoxicating,” he praised. He licked another stripe, then began rapidly flicking his tongue over her clit, while his fingers pressed inside her. She bucked and moaned, her fingers tangling into his hair, tugging at it.

Two fingers, then three thrust in and out of her, staying away from the spot that made her see stars. His eyes scanned up her body to see her fondling her own breasts, then further up to see the intense pleasure in her features. With his next thrust, he hit that spot and she screamed, a gush of arousal coating his fingers as they continued to stroke her through her orgasm.

He withdrew his fingers and lay down beside her, waiting for her to open her eyes. As she did, he held his fingers to her lips. “Taste yourself, Love. See how delicious you are.”

With her eyes fixed on his, she tentatively licked his finger, then sucked all three digits into her mouth. When they were clean, he pulled them free and kissed her, tasting her essence on her tongue.

“Fuck, that was hot,” she breathed.

“Mmhmm. Love tasting you like that.”

They moved to the center of the bed with Emma on top, straddling his hips. She began sliding her slick cunt up and down his shaft, his hands on her ass controlling her movements. Every once in a while, he would pinch or lightly slap her cheeks, causing her to throw her head back in pleasure.

When he felt like he would burst if he didn’t get inside her soon, he murmured, “Ready, Love?”

In answer, she lifted up then took him in, sliding down until he completely filled her. Placing her hands on his chest, she leaned back, closing her eyes and moaning, “Fuuuck.”

KIllian bit his lip, wanting to take her hard and fast, but also wanting to draw out the pleasure. “Ride me, Emma,” he pleaded.

She began sliding up and down, pulling almost completely off of him, then sinking back down. He drew his knees up behind her and started thrusting up into her, gripping her hips tightly. Soon, she was coming hard around him, shouting out her pleasure.

Before she had a chance to come down from her high, he flipped their positions. Placing her legs over his shoulders, he pumped into her frantically, the bed rocking with every thrust. Her cries of ecstasy mingled with his grunts and words of encouragement, and they quickly reached their climax simultaneously.

He rolled them again, pulling her boneless, sated body over his own. Breaths labored, hearts racing, they lay molded together until finally coming back to their senses.

*****

*****

Emma raised her head and looked into his face, a lazy smile on her lips. “Welcome home.”

He reached up to tuck some wayward strands of hair behind her ear. “If that’s the welcome I get after being gone a few days, maybe I should go away more often.”

“Don’t you dare,” she warned. “I miss you too much when you’re gone.”

“Aye, Love. I miss you, too. I’ll just have to figure out a way to take you with me. Do you think you would fit in my suitcase?”

She giggled. “Only if it’s your carry-on so I get to stay with you.”

“I’ll see if that can be arranged. If so, I’m sure Belle will be tucked into Will’s.”

“Well, at least I would have company while you two are off doing your ghost hunting thing.”

Killian chuckled. “Now that you know so much about it, you could join us.”

He expected her to laugh, but instead, she pushed up to look at him, a serious look on her face. “While I was watching your episodes, I started thinking about something. Remember how I told you I would like to be a counselor for foster kids who are about to age out of the system?” At his nod of affirmation, she continued, “Well, a lot of the people you help really struggle with how to handle being haunted. I wonder if it would help for me to talk to them, since I’ve been through the same thing myself? I mean, I know Liam’s ghost was with you for a long time, but he wasn’t threatening like a lot of the spirits haunting those people. Neal was, so I know how it feels.”

“I think that’s a brilliant idea, Swan! You’re right - many of our clients really struggle with how to handle what’s going on and how to tell people about it. Having someone like you to talk to would be very helpful. Would you be able to take time away from your job though?”

“I have plenty of vacation time saved,” she explained. After a moment, she added, “I’ve been thinking seriously about looking into those counseling courses. If I decide to sign up for them, between those and work, I wouldn’t have much time to spend with you.”

“I don’t like the sound of that.”

“Neither do I,” she laughed. “That’s another reason I’d like to travel with you.”

“I would be more than happy to have you along as often as possible.”

She leaned in to kiss him. “What do you know? I’m actually optimistic about the way my life is going right now. And I have you to thank for it.”

“I’m glad I’ve been able to help, but I’m not responsible for all of it. You’re a strong, smart, absolutely brilliant woman, Emma Swan, and you don’t give yourself enough credit.”

“Maybe not, but that’s why I have you around - to remind me once in a while.”

He tilted his head and cocked an eyebrow. “Is that the only reason you keep me around?”

“Well,” she teased, wiggling her body to shift his softened length within her, “maybe not the only reason!”

*********

ONE YEAR LATER

“I thought we were gonna have to leave without ya,” Will said playfully, as he, Killian and Emma sat back in their Uber on the way to the airport. “Thought that family was goin’ to adopt ya!”

“Aye, they really did love you, Swan,” Killian threw in. “I don’t blame them. The way you helped their daughter overcome her fears was bloody brilliant.”

“I just used my own experience. It was very similar to hers, after all,” Emma said, sliding down to rest her head on the back of the seat. “It was pretty draining, though, remembering all the shit Neal put me through.”

Killian reached over to take her hand, intertwining their fingers. “I know it was difficult, but you moved past it and so will she.”

Emma had joined them on their ghost hunting trips half a dozen times since first proposing the idea to Killian. All of the people with whom she shared her experience appreciated her input and advice.

She was in the midst of finishing her second semester of online counseling courses while continuing to work at the hotel. Killian gave up his lease when it came due three months ago and moved in with her. Now they were roommates instead of neighbors and couldn’t be happier about it.

Belle and Will were also living together. She joined them on their trips from time to time, usually staying at the hotel to edit while they were on site.

The flight home from Tucson seemed to take forever. When they finally reached their apartment, it was after one-thirty in the morning and all they wanted to do was collapse into bed.

The next morning, Emma awoke and realized she was alone, which was very unusual. Even when Killian woke up before she did, he stayed in bed with her.

Groaning, she pushed herself up to sit on the edge of the bed and noticed a note on the nightstand. Unfolding it, she read: Emma, I had some errands to run. I made coffee and those cinnamon rolls from a can you love so much. Have some breakfast, take a shower and relax. I’ll be home in a couple of hours. I love you.

She sighed. As much as she craved a shower and cinnamon rolls, she craved her lover even more. Waking up without him was not getting her day off to a good start.

Over two hours later, she was sitting on the couch, her stomach full, her body and hair clean, dressed in her most comfortable clothes, but still missing Killian. She sent him a couple of texts which he answered with one or two words, making her wonder even more about what was important enough to take him away from her for so long. She heard him and Will discussing how they were going to take two days off before going over what they collected from their trip, so she knew he probably wasn’t at the office they now rented.

She was just getting ready to send him another text when she finally heard his key in the door. She stood up and started moving towards it, questions on the tip of her tongue, when a large bouquet of red roses was thrust through the opening.

“Killian, what…”

“Good morning, Love,” he said, entering the apartment, closing the door and handing her the roses.

“These are beautiful, but it’s afternoon.” She took the bouquet, noticing his other hand was still behind his back. “Where have you been? Besides the flower shop, obviously.”

“Didn’t you get my note? I had errands to run.”

“Yes, I know, but…”

“I’m sorry I was gone longer than expected, but it took a while for me to find exactly what I wanted.”

“What were you looking for?”

He dropped to one knee and pulled his hand out from behind his back. “The perfect ring for the perfect woman.”

Emma gasped and her legs nearly gave out as she saw him open the black velvet jeweler’s box, revealing the most beautiful and exquisite diamond solitaire engagement ring.

“Emma, I truly believe I fell in love with you the moment I met you, but I had to be patient until the time was right. I never dreamed that my ability to sense paranormal activity would lead to me winning your heart. I will be forever grateful that it did. I want to spend the rest of my life loving you more and more with each passing day. Will you do me the honor of marrying me?”

Emma slowly set the roses on the coffee table, then stared at him with wide eyes for several seconds. He began to fidget when she didn’t answer him right away. When she finally spoke, she could see her words surprised him. “You…you know your flux thingy?”

He frowned. “You mean the flux response device?”

“Yeah.”

“What about it?” he asked, his hand holding the ring starting to drop a bit.

She knelt down in front of him at eye level. “Well, if you had it turned on when you asked that question, the light would be green right now.”

He let out a relieved laugh, removed the ring from the box and slipped it onto her trembling finger. Then she moved into his waiting arms, murmuring, “I love you so much, Killian.”

“I love you, too, Emma. For all eternity.”

*********

Thank you so much for coming along on this supernatural ride! Please be sure to check out all the stories and art work for this final CSSNS event!

Tagging:

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[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!

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after three(3) hours of work, I present to you.... MY BABIES!

[chiistarri]

chat how do u make someone txt u back...