Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to everyone, but ESPECIALLY to my CS Secret Santa, @delightfully-difficult-pirate! I hope you enjoy this fic as much as I enjoyed writing it, and it was so nice getting to know someone new in the fandom! Please excuse my formatting, I had to post mobile!
“You were right,” Elsa says, the hem of her gown swishing softly as she rounds the corner from the kitchen to the living room. “That machine wasn’t very hard to figure out.”
Hello there @imhookedonaswan!! It is I, your CS Hub Santa. I know I probably didn’t do such a good job but please excuse me. Also, I am really sorry for how short this is, I really wanted to write you a full story but in the last few days I felt like I’m dying and I couldn’t do anything.
When I asked you what you wanted you said you wished there were more florist AU/tattoos AU so I said “Why not both?”
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When Emma Swan was a kid, jumping from house to house, from one family to another, all she had, most of the times, were the flowers. A garden of chrysanthemum here, one of roses there, many colorful tulips and roses when she was with that old woman. She always had flowers in her life, it was a constant thing that she grow to love in time.
When she was in prison she didn’t had flowers. One of the female guards took pity of her from time to time and it was bringing her a flower here and there but not always and most of the times the flowers died after a few days. So during that time Emma had to draw them and imagine their colors.
When she got out, eleven months later, the first thing she did was to make a flower tattoo. Something small, on her wrist, to be with her always, no matter where she went.
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Killian Jones liked to draw since he was a little boy. He was drawing everything he saw, on every free surface he had. His mom always encouraged him, giving him ideas and being there for him when other kids laughed at him for loving to draw.
When his mother left him and Liam alone in the world, both boys tried to go on with her life and Killian started to draw even more. This time he was drawing their mother, as he remembered her, her blue eyes and blonde hair were in every drawing.
Then they went on the ship and Killian didn’t had as much time to draw as he did before. He had missions to complete, bad guys to stop in the name of the British crown. Instead, people on the ship saw him drawing from time to time, when he had a few minutes later and one of them came with the idea of Killian making tattoos. He hated the idea at the beginning but as time passed, Liam encouraged him to give a try to the idea. That’s how Killian Jones started to make tattoos for the man on the ship, in the middle of the ocean.
When the accident happened and Killian lost his hand, both him and Liam decided to go back on land and start a new life. And so, Killian opened a tattoo shop in Boston.
Summary: Tweaked from the prompt “I was burning scented candles and fell asleep. You’re my neighbour who bashed the door down when my smoke alarm went off.”
Rating: T+ for some swears and sexual innuendos.
A/N: Sorry for squeezing this in right after the wire of Day 9 but work is a bitch. Thanks @csjanuaryjoy, and thus @lenfaz and @katie-dub for this project. I loved writing this and I hope it gives someone a little light and warmth on a cold January night (in Ohio).
Emma has found, year after year, that her least favorite month is January. There’s this lull, after the holidays are over, where the cold intensifies, the weather gets worse, and there are no brightly colored lights to make it tolerable. That’s the truth of today, she thinks, as the wind picks up and rattles the screens in her windows. With emphasis, she pulls her hat lower, wraps her scarf tighter, and takes her time pulling on her warmest gloves.
While her favorite neighbor is out there cleaning off her car and starting it for her, she knows she’ll be lucky if the heater in her old, beloved Volkswagen Beetle will work before she gets to the sheriff station. She wouldn’t have left the house at all today, but it works since she also has to stop at the grocery store and maybe the movie rental place before she gets home.
She’s just coming down the stairs when the outside door is nudged open, with Killian bracing himself, presumably to catch his breath or his bearings coming in from the blizzard conditions outside to the warm foyer of the apartment complex. (Her heart skips a beat, just because it’s Killian, and why the hell wouldn’t she have fallen for the charismatic man that’s become her friend and confidant?)
To my CSSS giftee @word-bug, it has been a pleasure chit chatting with you over this holiday season! Here is your present, a little angst, a little mutual pining, a little smut, and a ton of fluff. I hope you enjoy it! HAPPY HOLIDAYS!
“Merry Christmas, Swan! What’s up?” Killian answered his phone with a silly smile; the same silly smile that always came across his face when his best friend was on his mind.
“Still ever the jolly little elf, aren’t ya,” Emma deadpanned.
“Nothing little about me, Swan, but yes, I am quite jolly.”
“Alright, alright, enough of that. I’ll be off around five, are we still on for tonight?”
If possible, his smile grew wider at the hopeful tone in her voice. “Of course, what do you have in mind?”
“You could come over to my place, we could get chinese and watch a movie?”
“It’s Christmas Eve, eve, Swan-”
“That’s not even a thing, Killian.”
Killian could practically hear the eye roll through the phone. “It is so, and there is much to do on this Christmas Eve, eve; it’s a Saturday evening. The town Christmas parade is tonight, the Irish Rose is having an all night Christmas party, drinks are half price. The Nightmare Before Christmas is playing at the cinema-”
“What are you, the local entertainment section of the paper? I’m so burnt out after this week, I really want to keep it lowkey.”
“Well if you insist on staying in, it’s going to be at my place. You don’t even decorate, Scrooge.”
“I am not a scrooge! I just don’t like- I mean I don’t have time to- ugh, whatever. Not everyone likes it when Christmas throws up all over their house.”
“You’re right, not everyone enjoys it, you and Scrooge for example,” he laughed into the phone.
“Your place it is,” she acquiesced, knowing she really was a bit of a scrooge. But it wasn’t a totally unfounded reason for her lack of Christmas spirit. “I’ll pick up food on the way, pick your pleasure.”
“Well if it’s pleasure we’re talking about, I’ve a wholly different menu than anything you can pick up from restaurant, love,” he flirted.
“Oh my god, Killian. You are so shameless,” she chastised, silently praising the fact that blushing couldn’t be seen through the phone.
“You love it,” he taunted her. “Are you blushing yet?”
“What do you want for dinner,” Emma dodged his question.
“I’ll cook,” he answered, “see you tonight, Swan.”
you guys are the best, thanks for being so enthusiastic about this little story. it all wraps up here, and I hope you guys enjoy! @high-seas-swan deserves all the love and praise for actually getting me off my butt to finish this, and finish it well.
for those of you who don’t know:
au where high school lit teacher killian jones ends up on the hotdudesreading instagram page and is very, very confused by it all.
Perhaps he should have
anticipated at least some of it but he doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to
people walking up to him in the middle of the street and saying, “I drove here
from Boston because I saw you and this town on Instagram oh my God can I get a
photo with you please?” All as if it’s one sentence, too.
It doesn’t happen too often,
but it happens enough. Because apparently his face is attracting tourists and
the town’s business has never been so good. Or so Mayor Mills tells him, in her
perpetually unimpressed tone of voice, pursed lips and all.
He’s fallen down some wormhole,
or walked through a portal, or is surely dreaming of something Twilight Zone
inspired because this is not a life he’d ever thought he’d be even remotely
close to having.
MERRY CHRISTMAS @jennifer-morrison!!!!!!! I was your CS Secret Santa, it was so nice to get to know you!! You have such a sweet pup and it was really fun to get to know someone who loves doing Secret Santa as much as I do.
I hope you like this, there’s bedsharing and making out and I have worried myself into a tizzy over characterization.
There’s no possible good answer to give to Mary Margaret’s question about the temperature when she comes home that afternoon. Oh, Emma’s tried to think of one all day, but really all it boils down to is–
“We forgot to pay the gas bill and they’re closed until Tuesday unless it’s an emergency and yes, I know, I tried to tell them it’s fucking Christmas and December in Maine, but it’s not a blizzard and neither one of us is old and at risk of dying of hypothermia so they basically told me to pay the bill tonight and it’ll get turned on again on Tuesday and ‘get fucked’ was kind of implied in the woman’s tone, but I kind of deserved it because–”
“Emma.” Mary Margaret’s got her ‘teacher voice’ on, which is really intimidating to the ten-year old living in Emma’s brain most days. “Back up, slow down.” She drops her bags on the loveseat near the door and doesn’t take off her peacoat or hat, which is probably the smart thing to do since their apartment is, after all, without heat for the foreseeable future. “When did we forget to pay the gas bill?”
Emma bites her lip and fidgets a little under the responsible stare of Mary Margaret Blanchard, woman of top-buttoned cardigans and color-coded schedules, voted Preferred Designated Driver three years running by their friends, rare rule-breaker, and master of ‘I’m not mad I’m just disappointed’ looks. “Um. September. And October. And last month.”
MERRY CHRISTMAS @curiousthingdarkness !! I know I was a little distant but trust me when I saw that you seem like a wonderful person! I hope you enjoy your gift and have a wonderful Christmas Day!
It was three days to Christmas and Emma finally had all her gifts in order which was no small feat since people had been vicious at most of the stores she went into. One woman had tried snatched a sweater out of her hands which resulted in a tug of war before Emma realized what she was doing and let go. She wouldn’t dream of giving Ruby a stretched out sweater anyways. Ruby was the whole reason she even had people to celebrate Christmas within the first place, if it weren’t for Ruby practically dragging Emma with her to an open call she never would be where she is with some solid friends and a nice new apartment that she and Ruby just signed the lease on a month ago. “Oh!” Emma thought as she passed an ATM, “I should get some money out to tip the super and other people for Christmas.”
She walked into the alcove, grateful to be shielded from the wind and snow that was falling fast from the sky. A few people walked out as she walked in, leaving only her and one other person in the vestibule. He was tall with black hair and when he looked up from his phone she was startled by just how blue his eyes were. She let herself discreetly check him out as she walked up to the machine under the pretense of getting her wallet out of her bag.
Just as she went to put her ATM card into the machine the lights in the vestibule went out and the automated door swung shut. A backup generator must have kicked in as a whirring sound started and the lights kicked back on so at least they weren’t in total darkness during what appeared to be a city-wide blackout. The man went to the door to only found that it had locked, trapping the both of them in the vestibule until the power kicked back on.
A CS Halloweek monstrosity that’s actually too long to post all on Tumblr, it doesn’t let me, I’m so sorry/you’re welcome..
He doesn’t smell familiar, which matches the British accent; it takes a gust of wind for her to realize it, but she breathes deeply and tries to pick out his scent. The surface scent is almost like home, the smells of an old city, but this one has earthy undertones and… salt? Sea salt. And then there’s his unique scent, the wolfscent that’s different for every pack but still makes her think of fur and fangs and how it feels to sing with her packmates.
“You got permission to be here?” she asks, crossing her arms over her chest and hoping the wind doesn’t change. Her body likes his scent, likes how it compliments her own so well – this is a city wolf, not some bigshot from the ‘burbs who thinks he’s hot shit – and she doesn’t know how she’d respond if it turned out his body liked hers too.
He grins, slow and a little bit dangerous. “Your pack leaders are aware of my presence, yes.”
“Good,” she says, “because I’ve got places to be and I don’t have time to get wrapped up in bureaucratic nonsense because some London wolf wants to slum it.”
Emma watched Killian kick a soccer ball towards a sandy-haired man
who was sitting on the grass with a jaunty call of, “On your feet for
the captain!” that sent a pleasant tingle right down her spine.
“Well, since I’m already up, might as well stick around for a bit.”
Just
before the practice started in earnest Killian looked over at the
bleachers and when their eyes met his lips pulled up in a grin and he
actually winked.
Cheeky, one-handed hot English captain of the soccer team. Or football.
It All Starts With a Dance 