again, at some point I will stop writing things based on personal experience, but that day is not today. CS with some Captain Book friendship, some children, and please be advised of fluff
the teddy bears have their picnic
Alexandra regarded him with wide and wary eyes, clutching Mr. Spots as if Killian might take him from her at any moment. “Come on, Alex, Mr. Killian said he’d take special care of Mr. Spots,” Ashley said, crouching down to meet her daughter’s eyes.
“He’ll have lots of fun with the other animals,” Belle added.
Alexandra looked at her mother. “But what if the bad lady takes him?”
The Evil Queen had been gone for several months now, but her lasting impact had apparently left it’s mark on the toddler. Killian stepped out from behind the desk and hunkered down as well. “Miss Belle would never let anything happen to your doggy, nobody would dare get on her bad side. She scares me sometimes.”
Just a little something inspired by today’s costume spoiler. Set at some undefined point in 6B, because who the hell knows what’s going to be happening in 6B? Probably not any of this, but we can dream. Rated M, 850 words.
It had been a busy day for both of them, with a lot going on (and when wasn’t there?). So even though they shared a home, Emma first saw the new coat when Killian joined her at the loft that evening to celebrate the breaking of her parents’ curse. The threat hanging over all of them was still dire, but at least there was this wonderful bright spot in all of the darkness. Her parents’ happiness was infectious, and when Killian arrived, she had pulled him into a tight hug before she smelled the new leather and realized something was different.
Thank you!! Gonna try to get this one done quickly. Clothes porn? Clothing kink? Height differences???? Puns????????? Who knows. ¯_(ツ)_/¯
He’s used to her in leather. He likes the leather, he likes that in this simple way they are once more kindred spirits. He likes her sweaters – though he likes her more without, for when he peels the warm cloth from her body she never fails to tuck her body against his, claiming, “It’s fucking cold, Killian.”
He loves her trousers, the nigh-obscene way they cling to her legs and her shapely hips, and the boots that reach for her knees and give her enough height so that he doesn’t have to quite bend in two to kiss her.
(Though he loves her, too, in her stocking feet, when she allows herself to feel vulnerable and their bodies fit together perfectly – her head on his shoulder, tucked just under his chin.)
But there’s been a change recently, and one he’s not entirely opposed to.
CS AU. The Cutting Edge: In her last
chance at an Olympic medal and desperate to find a new partner, Emma Swan has
to resort to the last option imaginable. Killian Jones – a washed up ex hockey
player with a streak of bad luck and ever worse reputation – was the last
resort.
For @galadriel26. Happy Birthday Desiree! Thank you for being such a wonderful and supporting reader and I hope you like this little thing! (and extra thanks for @shady-swan-jones for her support as well)
Emma Swan had everything to succeed at
figure skating. She had a supporting family that loved her, talent, grace,
beauty and tenacity that made her one of the best – if not the best – out
there. But an unfortunate affair with her partner left her pregnant at
eighteen, and she watched as Neal moved up the ranks while she took a step back
to raise her child, Henry. She had a long way to go when she came back in the
rink, but the fallout had left a scar in her soul. Emma Swan no longer trusted her
partners. Only sweet Graham Humbert was able to crack a little the wall she’d
built in, but he died from heart failure before they both got a chance to fight
for a medal. After that, there was one partner after the other, as if they were
one-night stands she quickly discarded. At the end of the road, there was no
one left that wanted to work with the Prickly
Princess. No one but one.
For Emma’s birthday, Killian decides to make her breakfast in bed. Word Count: 1456
Killian saw Henry on his way out of the house and said, “Henry! Is Emma awake?”
“I don’t think so. Why?” Henry said – he had already left his present for her on her table. Killian grinned, looking incredibly proud of himself, “I’m going to make your mother breakfast in bed.”
“Really?” Henry said, his eyebrows rising, a smile of amusement appearing. Killian looked so happy, Henry didn’t want to burst the bubble by telling him that eating in bed was one of Emma’s pet peeves. Then he smelt something funny and said, “Killian, what’s that?”
“What’s what? Oh, shit! Fu–” he stopped short and looked from the burnt eggs to Henry, who was just about holding back laughter. Killian frowned and said, “Don’t you have school?”
“Oh yeah! Hey, Killian?”
“Yeah?” Killian said, scraping the eggs into the bin, trying to get them unstuck from the bottom of the pan.
“Do you want help with something? I was going to go early but if you want help then—”
“What? No! I’m fine. Go to school.”
“Are you sure? If it’s for mom, I don’t mind helping.” Henry said, only looking for an excuse to stay at home.
“Your mother would want you to go to school so that’s where you’re going.” Killian said, putting the pan in the sink. Henry rolled his eyes but left. Killian finished making pancakes (who’s batter he made from scratch – unlike the instant batter that Emma bought) and made some more eggs and fried some bacon. He grabbed a tray and put all of it on the tray, putting some cocoa on the side and a bottle of maple syrup. Just as he was doing the final aesthetics of the tray, Henry came running back inside and up the stairs, shouting, “Forgot my book!” Killian face instantly dropped – Emma must have woken up. Henry appeared downstairs in 30 seconds, holding his book. He was about to run out when he saw the pancakes, the eggs, and the bacon. If he was being honest, the only thing that looked edible on that plate was the bacon. Killian said, “Bloody hell, mate! You woke her up, didn’t you?” He didn’t have to wait for an answer because, from upstairs, he heard Emma call, “Killian?”
“Sorry.” Henry said, running out again. At the door, he paused, turned around and said, “By the way, she doesn’t like eating in bed. See ya!” And disappeared. Killian stared after him in disbelief. He heard footsteps coming down the stairs and quickly went up the stairs, meeting Emma halfway. He grinned at her and, giving her a quick kiss, said, “Happy birthday, love.”
ten minute writing exercise! I’m going cross-eyed interpreting these transcripts and need a break.
If ever there was a time when he’d thought he’d regret laying down his sword, giving up a life at sea and full of adventure, it must have been before he’d ever met Emma Swan.
How could he have regrets when the most beautiful woman in all the realms lay her body across his, mewling and writhing against him and teasing him in the most delicious way? How could he have regrets when he felt, as if for the first time in his very long life, that he’d finally come home, found warmth and welcome in a safe harbor against the most brutal of storms?
“Up on your knees, pet, there’s a girl,” he murmured as she obeyed his request.
“You’re not going to have him killed are you?” she asks, half in an effort to snap Regina out of her dark mood and half because she genuinely feels the need to check.
Regina pauses as if considering the idea for a moment.
“No,” she sighs, with more disappointment than Emma’s really comfortable with. “But you might.”
Summary: Canon divergence from 3×13 onward, where Walsh never reveals himself and Storybrooke isn’t where it should be. Emma and Killian have to not only find a way back to Storybrooke and Emma’s family, but keep each other and Henry safe in the process.
Rating: T… for now.
A/N: So *wiggles fingers* hello, @swankkat! I am your (omfg i’m so sorry it’s so late) GFSS! I had every intention of having this done for New Years, but um, well, the easy explanation is that @phiralovesloki maaaaaaaaaay have had a bit of a hand in the outlining of this fic (and we both know how truly brilliant she is) so I think you know how this story goes. My “Quick Oneshot” plan definitely got thrown out the window months ago. And instead I replaced it with “Well, 11k for the first half a fic is okay, too.” Part 2 is in progress, and that’s definitely where more of the ticky boxes you checked off start to come into play.
The moments driving away from Storybrooke are painful because there in
her rear-view mirror, she has to say goodbye. She memorizes the details quickly
before she forgets them forever: her parents crying, Regina sullen and
heartbroken, Neal wistful and sad over what could’ve been, and Hook… She swallows
down the sob that threatens to break free.
Her family, her past, her future, all huddled together at the town line
as the curse comes to take them away. She turns it into a joke as she puts the
Bug in gear and drives forward. My
parents, my ex, and a pirate walk into a bar… and the absurdity pushes a
smile onto her face. She’s wearing that smile when they cross the town line
and…
She doesn’t know why she’s smiling, other than her son is in the
passenger seat taking in the scenery like he’s never seen it before. Which is
ridiculous, of course, because he saw it on the drive up. This was just what
they needed. A small escape from reality before starting fresh. She’s not
excited about finding a new place to live, or buying new clothes, or finding a
new school for Henry, but she knows it is all stuff that has to be done when
they get to New York.
Killian and Emma are enjoying a day on the water when a
storm happens upon them. They decide to wait it out down below, where Killian
has some interesting ideas as to what can occupy their time. Mindless fluff and
smut.
wait out the storm
She watches the storm clouds gather off in the distance, a heavy
sweep of slate that cuts across the horizon like a painter’s brush. It’s
beautiful, in its own way, if not faintly terrifying. The wind picks up and
begins to whip at the sails in the same moment she decides definitely terrifying – the heavy canvas ominously billowing back
and forth. It licks along the jut of her collarbones and she pulls her jacket tighter,
stepping closer to the wheel where Killian is perched.
“Should we be heading back?”
Killian keeps his gaze steady on the clouds, fingers
drumming lightly against the spokes of the wheel.
“Afraid we won’t be able to outrun it at this point, best to
just tie things down and wait it out down below.”
It All Starts With a Dance 