Hi, dollface! I’m your CSSV and had so much fun writing this for you. I’ve enjoyed our little chats over the last few weeks and I hope you enjoy the story. I tried to put as many little touches of you in it as I could.
xoxo,
Megan
****
The knock came at 2:05. It was tentative, barely pulling Killian
out of a dreamless sleep and for a moment, he thought he’d imagined it.
Fuzzy-brained, he was a second away from chalking it up to a rattling pipe or
noise from the street when another knock came, this one more insistent.
Tossing the covers off and cursing as he kicked his feet
free from the tangled sheet, he padded through the living room, throwing the
deadbolt and dramatically pulling the door open, ready to give his untimely
visitor hell while wearing nothing more than a pair of boxer briefs and a
scowl.
The piss and vinegar was short-lived when his eyes fell onto
the figure standing in the hallway.
Her face was red and blotchy with strands of blonde hair
sticking to tear tracks. A cheap diaper bag, stretched to the limits and
overflowing, was slung over her shoulder, one of those infant car seats
designed for carrying at her feet, the baby inside asleep.
Chin lifting just enough to convey some measure of pride, her eyes wouldn’t rise enough meet his. When she spoke it was to the dog
tags resting on his chest.
Happy Valentine’s Day Michelle @profoundlyfadedprincess! I hope you have a lovely day! ❤ And I hope you enjoy this fic! I have a fun little drawing I’m gonna post in a bit too!
Here is a somewhere in season 6 canon divergent adventure of Emma and Killian getting sent to the Enchanted Forest!
It was Zelena’s fault they were in this mess. The unseasonably warm winter weather seemed to have everyone not in their right state of mind, which was even worse in Zelena’s case. It all happened so quickly: it was a blur of jumping towards Zelena to get the wand, a shout of ‘Emma,’ and a ringed hand grasping around her bicep.
And now, Emma and Killian were stuck in the Enchanted Forest.
Their means of getting home—
“Love, you alright?” Killian groaned from underneath Emma.
“I think so?” She shifted, sitting up looking around them. She saw the wand that led them here peeking out from underneath Killian. She quickly grabbed it and frowned.
—A broken wand.
“Bloody hell,” Killian sighed at the sight.
“Yeah.” Emma threw her head back and groaned in frustration. “What are we gonna do?”
“What is this? The sixth time we’ve been in another land?”
“Seventh, if you count when we first met,” Emma corrected him.
“And even then, not on the same team, we figured out how to get back to Storybrooke.” Killian squeezed her hand and moved to get up off the cold rough ground. Emma felt the cold starting to seep through her leather jacket. She looked around and away from Killian. They were in the woods. Snow was falling peacefully through the trees.
Hi @hookedonapirate! I’m your CS Secret Valentine 🙂 It was really nice talking to you and getting to know you over these days! I hope you enjoy your gift – Emma as a fashion designer and Killian as a model, and a small twist 😉 Beta by @wingedlioness.
Happy Valentine’s Day!
For someone used to not depending on small things to make her mornings, Emma sure found it hard rising from bed before hearing her neighbor downstairs sing his early tunes. He never spent a morning without welcoming the day with a song as if he was the happiest person in the world.
Of course, the only reason she even heard him was due to a few loose planks on her floor and her neighbor’s very thin ceiling. Her landlord had warned her about it, saying that they were going to fix it soon. But in her two months living there, no notice came, and honestly, she couldn’t complain. It’s not that she felt like she was creeping on him either. She couldn’t understand the lyrics, only the melody making it through her floor, and nothing else. No discussions, no other voices, just melodies of various music styles brightening her mood.
Today was different, as her neighbor – she still hadn’t learnt his name – sounded like he had a sore throat. He still sang, but coughed between phrases and his voice sounded rough. She kept listening until the sound of his door closing let her know he was gone, and she finally stood up.
Emma may have been a semi-famous fashion designer, but her style never stopped being casual. She enjoyed how it felt like it protected her from the world without making her look fake, though that wasn’t a detail she was used to sharing in her interviews.
So she put on her jeans, boots, shirt and leather jacket and took the subway to Snow White’s Fashion House. Cheesy name, she admitted, but the conditions were great, her pay good, and her boss extremely friendly to everyone, even Emma herself. And most of the models were nice too.
Well, most of them.
As soon as Emma entered the building, the first person she saw was Killian Jones, one of the company’s well-paid and most trusted models, as well as the only one-handed model working for a fashion house in the whole city. Killian working there seemed to have a very positive effect on the company and he looked quite proud of it.
Oh great, he caught her staring at him again. She expected another sassy remark from him, his way of flirting, but this time he only smiled suggestively at her, his one eyebrow rising before turning back to continue his conversation with Ruby, the company’s receptionist who could very well be working as a model if she only asked.
Entering her atelier, Emma was greeted by an Elsa who was grinning ear to ear. “Good morning, Elsa,” she said.
“Good morning, sunshine. Today’s your lucky day,” Elsa said and raised her eyebrows.
“What?” Emma took her jacket off slowly and eyed her co-worker cautiously. She’s only shared very few with Elsa for her to know what a lucky day for Emma Swan could be.
“Killian Jones will be coming today for a new leather costume. And I will be over at David because he asked for my help with some new dresses, which means you will be here alone taking his measurements,” she said and managed to smile even wider.
Taking his measurements. Which would mean… seeing Killian Jones wearing only his underwear, her fingers touching his bare skin, his breath on her as she worked around his body…
“Have fun,” Elsa said and walked through the door before Emma could react.
“Wait!” she shouted and ran towards her. She leaned outside and watched her go with her grin still on. “Elsa! Come back! Who will I scream at until he comes?” she almost hissed at her, which caused Elsa to laugh, her back still to Emma.
She tells him she’s never really been one for roses, so he
buys her tulips instead. Yellow ones that match the way her hair shines in the
early light of morning, tangled against the pillow and between his fingers. Daisies
that he puts in glasses all over their kitchen, watching the way her face
lights up when she walks in from a long day at the station. How her cheeks pink
and her smile softens into something secret when she tucks her hair behind her
ears and bends close to brush her nose against the petals. He buys her orchids
and lilies. Daffodils and peonies. Carnations that make her bark out a laugh
with how truly terrible they are.
She tells him she wouldn’t even know how to cut a damn fancy
steak, so he brings her grilled cheese instead. The grease seeping through the
bottom of the bag, just the way she likes, with enough onion rings to feed a
small army. He finds the nice plates she keeps stacked in the highest cabinet
and candles below the sink – sets it out on the table with the carnations
proudly in the middle. He watches the way the flickering light dances along her
skin – along her cheekbones and down her neck. The jut of her collarbones
beneath her thin sweater.
She tells him she doesn’t know how to dance, so he helps
her. Takes her hand in his and smoothes his thumb along her knuckles. Guides
her steps around their living room with music playing from his phone box, her
eyebrow arched and a quip from her lips about him being a most adept modern man. He shushes her and tucks her
close until she relaxes, sweeping her about the room and spinning her around and
around until she laughs. Tugs her closer as they fall into something slower,
simpler, delighting in the way she brushes her lips against his jaw and
breathes out his name on a sigh.
She tells him she doesn’t like the holiday, but he persists
anyway. They go to the docks early, gray light creeping over the weathered wood
of his ship, her yawn wide and loud as she curls up against the mast with a
blanket pulled tight. He watches her doze as he guides them to their
destination, far enough away from the town that no one or nothing could
possibly bother them. He wakes her with his lips against her forehead, his arms
about her waist. They spend the day snacking on breads and cheeses – a bottle
of wine (or two) he slipped into his bag. He spins fantastical stories of his
days on the high seas and she reciprocates with tales of her bail bondswoman
days. Stories of might and bravery, color high in her cheeks and her smiles
easy.
He makes love to her beneath the stars as they come to life,
her noises soft and delicate as he moves above her. She watches him with heavy
eyes, a smile curling the corners of her lips, her fingers tracing patterns
along his back. It’s soft and easy, the way he moves against her, much like the
tide pulling them gently back to shore. She locks her ankles at the small of
his back and he loses himself in her. In the way she chases his hips with hers,
a dirty grind that has him gritting his teeth. In the way she whimpers out his
name on a choked groan as he drives her further towards madness.
She tells him she’s never felt this way before, with him,
and he agrees quietly. A whispered return in the dark stillness of night, her
body curled around his in their bed, her toes cold and pressed between his. He
tells her he never thought – never in his most wild imaginings – he never
entertained the possibility that he could have –
“Yeah,” she whispers, soft and sure, her fingers pressed
tight over his heart. “Me, too.”
Hey @sambethe it’s me again! I’m back with the main gift I prepared for you as your Secret Valentine. I hope you like it. I wanted to write you something sweet and I hope I did it right.
Emma stared up at the big ship in front of her: The Jolly Roger. If she had been 16 or 17, maybe even 20 years younger, her inner self would have jumped up and down at the name. She would have seen THE ‘Jolly Roger’ and would have expected Captain Hook and Peter Pan to appear out of nowhere to take her out of the system. They would have taken her to Neverland to a world full of lost boys and girls, where there were no group homes and bad foster families. But now, 28 years old Emma just smiles at the name of the ship and goes in the waiting line to embark on a six-day cruise on the Caribbean Sea.
She had received the tickets from Mary Margaret and David as a Christmas gift meant for her and her boyfriend, Walsh. She loved the idea of being on a ship in the middle of the ocean for a week and the fact that Walsh could have been there with her was a nice addition. But as always, Emma’s plans hadn’t gone as she’d wished and a week before leaving on the cruise, she had found Walsh in bed with someone else. Of course they had broken up and Emma had told him she never wanted to see him again, but she had two tickets for this cruise and she didn’t want to go alone.
The problem with that, however, was that Valentine’s Day fell during the course of the cruise and all her friends had either plans with their partners or, in Elsa’s case, were visiting family in Norway. Eventually, Emma had decided to go on the cruise alone. The only things that warmed her heart were the fact that the ship would be full of strangers and no one would care for her.
The first day passed quickly. Emma was busy accommodating and trying to adjust to the fact that she was by herself on a ship, for the first time. But the big room that looked more like a hotel room than a cabin on a ship helped a lot. And so did the open bar that served all kinds of cocktails and the big pool on the deck.
On the second day, Emma decided that she wanted to explore the ship. She was walking around the deck, when she passed through a door. She found herself in a room full of computers and people. She knew deep down that she had to go back, that the tourists weren’t allowed in there, only the staff, but she didn’t want to. Her curiosity pushed her to take a quick look around. Finally she decided that it was better if she left the room before anyone saw her, but when she turned to the door she ran into a person.
“Who are you?” the person asked her.
Emma took a step back and stared at the person. It was a man, a tall man with intense blue eyes that could easily compete with the ocean around them, and apparently, he had an accent. He also wore a uniform that fit him perfectly, with the name tag that said “Captain K. Jones” so Emma could understand that this was the captain of the ship. With him was a man with the same intense blue eyes that wore a similar uniform that said “Staff Captain L. Jones”.
“Lass?” the captain asked again.
“Maybe she’s one of the tourists that can’t speak English,” the other man said to the captain.
Hello, nonnie! Please enjoy today’s lunch time 10 minute ficlet with a quite eager captain swan.
-x-
“We should probably stop meeting like this.”
“Aye, but where would the fun in that be?” Killian grins back at her, her words a direct contradiction to the sultry whisper against his ear as his hand slips beneath her waistband, tugging her shirt free before pressing her back against the cool metal.
“Nowhere.” She smirks, gasping as he stops fussing with her shirt and drops his mouth to her breast, his tongue pushing her bra out of his way. The metal at her back is a direct contradiction to the heat of her body, ratcheting up every second as Killian works her over, her heart pounding and adrenaline coursing through her veins. They shouldn’t be doing this, meeting in dark corners and supply closets all over the ship – someone is going to catch them, and then they’re going to really be screwed.
And not in the fun way that has her seeing stars as Killian lifts her and buries himself within her, his pants still hanging off his hips as they barely manage to undress only enough to get what they want.
But she can’t stop. He can’t stop. They’re in the middle of the ocean, out to sea for the next four months with two behind them, and it’s a big ship, but it’s not that big. And really, the sight of him in uniform shouldn’t do things to her, not when she’s surrounded by hundreds of men in uniform, hell, she wears the uniform herself, but on Killian…
Well, it’s part of the reason they’re currently panting together in a storage room out of the way of the rest of the crew.
His low curse is a damp, hot breath of air against her throat, and Emma groans as his thrusts lose their rhythm, jerking against her as he gets closer and closer. But Killian is an officer and a gentleman, and despite the fact that he’s very obviously about to come undone, he shifts his position, his kiss swallowing her gasps as he turns his attention to her.
Her legs are jello when they hit the floor, her boots thudding quietly with her pants still hanging off one ankle. He’s deliciously disheveled, his hair a mess, his shirt untucked and unbuttoned, wrinkled where Emma grabbed a fistful of it. She arches an eyebrow at him as he begins to reassemble himself into the proper Navy officer he’s meant to be, her breaths still short.
“One of these times, I’m just going to sneak into your quarters,” she tells him, running her eyes over his body and licking her bottom lip with all the innuendo he’s usually directing at her. “It’s been too long since I’ve seen you naked, as delightful as this is.”
He kisses her hard in response, and it’s a very near thing that she undresses them all over again, but they’re both due on deck in ten minutes, and it would not do to be late. “Love, I’d like nothing better than to have you naked in my bed. Come by at twenty-two hundred. Robin will be on shift.”
“And if someone sees me?”
He grins, his hand slipping over her hip to palm her backside with a healthy squeeze. “You’ll find a way, darling. We always do.”
The Mummy CS AU Artwork for @lenfaz for the 500 Follower Giveaway! 🙂 Ilu, thanks for being all heart eyes for this au idea w me <33
“I… am a librarian!” he announced proudly, far too drunk to bother keeping quiet despite the silence of the night around their camp. Emma barely suppressed a smile at Killian’s charmingly wholesome (albeit alcohol-induced) declaration, but it faltered when he then dropped abruptly to his knees in the sand before her.
Hazy, unfocused eyes bore into hers, and whatever inhibitions he may have had during daylight that prevented him from voicing his clear desire for her was gone. There was a dreamy sort of look to his expression, lustful though it was, and Emma sunk her teeth into her lower lip for the briefest moment at the spark of want deep in her gut. The way the firelight danced over his features made him look ethereal, almost. Fragile.
One of his hands slipped over her knee, the other hovering inches from her face, as if he weren’t entirely sure where to place it.
“And I am going to kiss you, Miss Swan.” His voice faded to a whisper and Emma swallowed down the anxious lump in her throat. She croaked out the only words that managed to come to her in the moment.
“Call me Emma.”
“Oh…” His flushed cheeks rose with a sheepish smile for barely a second before that yearning, earnest gaze returned. Finally, his fingertips brushed against her cheek, his thumb coming to rest softly against her lip. “E-Emma.”
DO THEY KISS? DOES KILLIAN PASS OUT? Who knows? *whistles*
This happened thanks to this fuckin au post I made a couple months ago lmao 😂 But for real though, before anyone asks, I’m like 90% sure I’ll be writing the thing this year. But we’ll see. 🙂
Summary: When a sailor recovering from injuries sustained during the war against the Dark One is tended by one of the noblewomen of the realm, he knows it is not meant to be; he is too hurt, and far too unremarkable for one as good as she. Little does he realize that time cannot heal all wounds, nor can it make him forget the angel who once eased his troubled mind. Rated E for Explicit. [ on ao3 ]
i wrote this entire fic in five days, listening to nothing but the decemberists, tom waits, and rihanna. i’m excited to share it with you guys; never has a fic come to me this easily. look for an update tomorrow.
Part 1: Wounded
Killian watched with horror and despair as it happened before his very eyes: his brother, resplendent in his captain’s stripes, his eyes flashing as he raised his sword above his head. The sword coming down, slicing neatly through the enemy sailor. Opening his mouth to yell, looking across the deck and meeting Killian’s eyes. The look of utter shock on his face as he was run through, a blade bursting through the placket of his usually neat coat. The quick and violent bloom of blood, his brother looking down while reaching up to touch the blade. No, Brother! You’ll cut your finger! was the foolish thought he sent Liam’s way before his captain-brother fell to his knees, just another body in the carnage taking over their ship.
He took a step, pausing to slash at a snarling sailor with a wicked-looking dagger in one hand and a cutlass in the other. Making quick work of the enemy, he rushed toward his brother, thinking only to be at his side, he was ever at his side, what would he do without his brother at his side?
He did not notice the sneer of a new threat, the captain of the enemy vessel. Did not heed the way the man stalked toward him, did not attend to his own safety.
Before he reached his brother’s still form, he felt a sting at his back, then fire at his arm. He looked down, a sense of near-wonder stealing over him; where has my hand gone? he thought with incredulity. Raising his wrist to the level of his eyes, he watched an arc of blood spurt in the air, framing the enemy captain perfectly as his dark smirk advanced. Raising his right arm, Killian made quick work of the infamous commander of the Dark One’s navy, quite surprised it had been so easy to defeat him.
He watched with detachment as the smirk fell from the dead man’s lips, felt prickles of nausea tease at his throat as dark flurries assaulted his peripheral vision. His knees buckled, and the last thing he saw as he fell was the swoop of the horizon turning into a blue, cloudless sky.
And then he saw no more.
“Shh. Shh. It’s all right. Shh.”
Ah, Killian thought with relief followed immediately by annoyance. My angel attends me once again. He felt the coolness of a damp cloth at his brow and gritted his teeth. It was the eighth night in as many days that he’d awakened from the terrible dream-memory, the one in which he’d lost far too much for a man of his two and twenty years.
And for all eight of those nights, the angel had been at his bedside, mopping his brow to draw away the fever and the remembrances with her soothing words and gentle voice.
This gorgeous piece of artwork crossed my dash and the look of awe and surprise and wonder on Killian’s face blew me away so I just had to write something! Thanks to @waiting-for-autumn for letting me create a world around her artwork.
1k of fluff
Basically Princess Emma running away from a ball (why, you ask? No, idea, I just draw stuff) and ending up in the arms of young Lieutenant Jones.
He hasn’t seen her yet.
Princess Emma of Misthaven, known far and wide for her surpassing beauty, and he hasn’t even had the opportunity to catch a glimpse of her smile or her eyes or her long golden hair. It is starting to become a sore spot for Killian Jones. His older brother, Liam, who had graduated the Academy and entered the Navy three years before him has seen Princess Emma many times, apparently. She had been sparkling at balls and state dinners, focused and passionate at strategizing in the war two years hence, and brilliant at the intimate meals Queen Snow White and Prince Consort David hold for the officers who have earned especial esteem.
It was the letters that Liam had sent to Killian in the Academy that had made Killian daydream of the princess he hoped to see soon. It was the letters that at times made Killian wonder if Liam had fallen for the Princess, or if she was just exceptional.
But an entire month in the Palace and Killian had yet to even see the Princess at a distance, much less speak to her as his foolish heart was dreaming to do. His chance had been tonight, at the ball thrown in honor of the war’s heroes, when Princess Emma would surely dance with all the soldiers and sailors, even lowly fellows like Killian who hadn’t seen battle at all. Damn Liam for knowing his desire to finally meet the Princess and for assigning him to patrol outside the gates.
Some of the other men had accused Killian of benefiting from nepotism. He hardly knew what the word meant, with a brother like Liam.
a/n: so @thesschesthair has been doing these amazing CS Scene Analysis posts, and I just saw the Goodbye at the Town Line 3×11 post, and I wondered… they looked like they wanted to kiss… but who would’ve kissed who? (Psh, we all know, but here, have canon divergence post-Neverland CS!)
“Good,” she says, just one word, filled with such bittersweet heartbreak that Killian feels his heart stutter even as his lips curl up.
Good.
The word reverberates through him as she gives him a small smile of her own, and he understands what she doesn’t say – maybe with time, with you annoying me and breaking down my walls, this could’ve led somewhere, Jones. Somewhere good. But it isn’t over till it’s over even if I never see you again, hope has a funny way of lighting infernos.
It All Starts With a Dance 