#CS one shot
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myfearless-love · 2 months ago
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Where the Lightning Strikes - CS one-shot
Relationship: Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Emma Swan
Characters: Emma Swan, Captain Hook | Killian Jones
Additional Tags: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Sharing a Bed, There Was Only One Bed, Trapped by Weather, Touch-Starved, Killian Jones Has Self-Worth Issues, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Mutual Pining, Soft Emma Swan, Slow Burn, Scars
Summary: In which Killian meets his match in stubbornness for perhaps the hundredth time, and Emma questions his definition of "fine." (Enchanted Forest AU)
READ HERE: AO3
Preview:
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Tagging some folks who might be interested:
@anmylica @elfiola @zaharadessert @gingerchangeling @undercaffinatednightmare
@jrob64 @teamhook @kmomof4 @jonesfandomfanatic @mie779
@winterbaby89 @tiganasummertree @stahlop @rylieblu @ultraluckycatnd
@eddisfargo @booksteaandtoomuchtv @laianely @hollyethecurious @resident-of-storybrooke
@beckettj @whimsicallyenchantedrose @captainswan-kellie @veryverynotgoodwrites @lfh1226-linda
@snowbellewells @caught-in-the-filter @shady-swan-jones @bluewildcatfanatic @fairytalepetzkle
(Let me know if you want to be added or removed from the list)
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snowbellewells · 14 days ago
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CS Fic Rec Monday: "Privacy and Pancakes" by: @laschatzi
This week's first rec from me is a fun one shot by @laschatzi. This glimpse into CS happy domestic life (even if interrupted by overly enthusiastic family members) is just a joy to read. You get to see the two of them between battles, the bond the Charming-Swan-Jones family as a larger unit has established, humor, a bit of spice, and lots of sweetness. This feels like it could fit in anywhere in the late season six canon, almost like a missing moment, or into an alternate season seven where the action had remained in Storybrooke and we'd gotten to see a little more of what that married CS happy beginning had looked like. At any rate, it's a great one to bring a smile to your face, and definitely worth reading if you've missed it before now - or revisiting it if it's been a while.
I tried to create some cover art for it, so hopefully you'll enjoy that @laschatzi:
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"Privacy and Pancakes" by: @laschatzi
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jrob64 · 1 year ago
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A Love/Hate Relationship - a CS modern AU one-shot
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I wrote this story because I was in need of fluff, humor and hurt/comfort after the painful experience of losing two dogs in less than a year. Zeke, who was in my story Sowing Seeds of Trust, died of cancer last June. Two months later, we adopted Winston, who was the main character in Pet for Rent. Somehow, he swallowed part of a brush (while he wasn't at home) which perforated his intestines and caused internal bleeding. He died May 23. Writing my favorite trope for my favorite couple is therapeutic for me as I deal with my heartbreak.
Many thanks to @kmomof4 and @hookedmom.
Summary: Killian Jones' neighbor, Emma Swan, has hated him since the first day they met. When she finds out he came down with the flu and attempts to nurse him back to health, he's more than a little confused.
Rating: T
Words: 2582
Also posted to ffn and Ao3
Story is under the cut
*********
Killian Jones buried his face in a pillow and pulled it up over his head in an attempt to stop the incessant pounding. After several painful moments, he realized the noise wasn’t in his head, but was coming from the front door of his apartment.
Groaning, he tossed back the covers and swung his legs over the side of the bed, sitting with his head in his hands for a short while. When he finally got to his feet, he swayed dizzily and stumbled into the door frame, leaning against it to try to regain his balance.
He eventually made his way across the living room, unlocked the deadbolt and threw the door open. “What?” he demanded loudly, regretting it immediately when a sharp pain shot behind his eyes. He squeezed them shut before even registering who was on the other side of the door.
“Jones, how many times do I have to tell you to…Wow! You look like hell.”
Killian cracked his eyes open enough to see his neighbor from across the hall, Emma Swan. Infuriating to the highest degree and just as beautiful, she was the last person he wanted to see while he was in his current state. The two of them had a love/hate relationship…minus the love.
They had gotten off on the wrong foot when he moved in a little over a year ago. Unaware that she was a police officer who worked the night shift, he woke her up shouting orders at the movers. Emma Swan was not a morning person, especially after working an eight hour shift on the streets of Boston, and she informed him of it in no uncertain terms.
After that day, every interaction between them was filled with tension and snarkiness. Killian wished they could go back to when they met and start over again, because he knew she was basing her hatred of him on that first impression. In all honesty, he was quite intrigued by the fierce blonde and would like to know if there was a sweet or funny side of her she kept hidden very deep inside. Very, very deep.
Now she was here, standing at his door, scrutinizing him like a bug squashed on the bottom of her shoe. “Hangover?” she smirked.
He sighed. “I have the flu, Swan. It’s been going around at the office and I wasn’t lucky enough to avoid it. Now, if you’re done yelling at me, is there something I can help you with? If not, I’d really like to go back to bed.”
She took a step forward and unexpectedly pressed her palm to his forehead, then both hands to his unshaven cheeks. “You’ve got a fever.”
“Usually accompanies the flu. Now if you’ll…”
“Do you have medicine?”
“No, I…”
“Have you eaten? Are you drinking plenty of fluids?”
“I haven’t…”
“How long have you had it? Have you seen a doctor?”
Killian rested his pounding head against the door. “Must you use your interrogation techniques on me? I haven’t committed a crime, you know.”
“I’m trying to help,” she said, clearly offended.
“I could use less help and more sleep,” he grumbled.
“Yes, good,” she said, pushing past him into his apartment. “Go back to bed and I’ll get you something to drink. Do you want water, juice or…”
“More questions, Swan? Why can’t you just leave me alone?”
“All you have to drink is water, Dr. Pepper Zero and beer?” she asked, peering into his refrigerator. Closing it, she straightened up and began opening cupboards. “Do you have tea bags? British people like to drink tea, don’t they?”
He knew it would hurt his head to roll his eyes, so he simply threw up his hands and trudged off to his bedroom. Behind him, he could hear Emma celebrating the fact that she’d located the tea bags.
He had just gotten back to sleep, when he was shaken awake. “What now?” he growled, flopping onto his back.
“I made some tea and found Advil in your medicine cabinet. You need to drink something and get these pills in you.”
He raised his head and blinked up at her blearily. “You went through my medicine cabinet?”
“Yeah. Did you know condoms have an expiration date? The ones you have in there expired almost two years ago. Better not use them, because they’re likely to break.”
“Ugh,” he groaned, letting his head drop back down on his pillow. “Please just let me die.”
“You aren’t gonna die from the flu, Jones.”
“I meant from embarrassment,” he muttered under his breath.
“Sit up,” she commanded, sliding her arm under his pillow and pushing until he did as he was told.
First, she handed him a bottle of water. After glaring at her for several seconds, he finally took it, then swiped the two pills she held in her other palm. He popped them into his mouth and downed them with the water.
“Happy now?” he asked.
“Deliriously,” she quipped. “Now drink your tea.”
He accepted the mug she offered him and held it to his lips. Cautiously taking a sip, he grimaced and spit it back into the cup. “Did you heat the water at all? It’s barely warm! And how bloody much sugar did you put in it?”
“Well, I didn’t want you to burn your mouth,” she explained haughtily. “And I put in the same amount of sugar as I put in my coffee. Four spoonfuls.”
“Four?” he questioned. “Are you trying to kill me, or just give me diabetes?”
“You’re not a very good patient, Jones. You could at least be grateful that I’m helping you.”
“If you recall, I didn’t ask for your help.”
She ignored him, fluffing his pillow and pushing at his chest to get him to lay back down. “I found a can of chicken noodle soup in your cupboard. I’m going to heat it up.”
“Don’t add any sugar to it,” he groused, as she walked out of the bedroom, taking the tepid cup of tea with her.
“I heard that,” she threw over her shoulder.
“Of course she heard that, but didn’t hear when I told her to leave me alone,” he mumbled into his pillow. He tossed and turned, knowing that if he went to sleep, the maddening woman would just wake him up again.
Sure enough, she was back at his bedside within ten minutes, carefully carrying a plate containing a steaming bowl of soup and a small stack of saltine crackers. He sat up before she could order him to, and took the plate from her.
“You didn’t add anything to this, did you?” he asked.
“Nope, I just heated it up,” she assured him.
He dipped the spoon into the soup, blew on it and put it in his mouth, then promptly choked and sputtered. “Bloody hell, Swan! Didn’t you add any water to this?”
“Why would I add water?” she asked, a confused frown forming on her face.
“Because Campbell’s soup is condensed. It’s too salty this way. Adding extra water dilutes it enough that it tastes like soup is supposed to taste, rather than tasting like…like the ocean. Haven’t you ever made soup from a can before?”
“Sure,” she said, crossing her arms across her chest petulantly. “I make Progresso soup all the time, but I never add water to it.”
“Progresso soup isn’t condensed. This is.” He took the stack of crackers, then thrust the plate back towards her. “I’ll just eat these, thanks very much. Now that you’ve tended to me, you can leave me in peace.”
“Are you sure you’re gonna be okay?” she asked.
Was that concern he saw on her face? Surely not. Emma Swan would never be concerned about him. It would be more realistic if she were to try to poison him. Perhaps he should have been more careful eating and drinking what she gave him.
Shaking his head slightly to try to clear those thoughts, he said gruffly, “Yes, I’m sure. It’s not like you really helped anyway.”
This time, he thought he saw a flash of hurt cross her face, before she turned and left the room. Soon he heard the front door close.
He couldn’t have really seen Emma Swan look concerned and hurt, could he? Great. Now he was going to have to add hallucinations to his list of symptoms.
He ate the crackers, then lay down and turned onto his side, tugging the blanket up around his shoulders. He was achy and feverish, but it was the guilt over how he treated his apparently well-meaning neighbor that kept him from falling asleep.
*********
Three days later, after his fever had been broken for twenty-four hours, Killian went back to work. Upon returning home at the end of the day and getting his keys out to unlock his apartment, the door across the hall opened and Emma stepped out.
“Oh, hey Jones. Looks like you recovered, no thanks to me.”
Killian rubbed his finger behind his ear. “I owe you an apology, Swan. I was rude and should have never said what I did.”
She shrugged nonchalantly. “It’s no big deal. I guess I’ll never be a Florence Nightingale.” Turning on her heel, she muttered, “See ya around.”
“Swan…Emma, wait,” he called out, hurrying after her.
She turned around. “What?” she huffed.
“I, uh, I truly am sorry. It was very kind of you to try to help me, but…”
“But what?”
“But why did you do that? I mean, given the fact you hate me…”
“I don’t hate you,” she interrupted.
“Really? You could have fooled me.”
Emma stuck her hands in the back pockets of her jeans and looked down at the floor for several long moments. When she finally looked up, he was shocked to see the vulnerability on her face.
“Look… I’m not good with…people,” she said softly. “And I’m also not good at admitting when I’m wrong.”
She paused and he waited patiently, wondering where she was going with this.
“None of the people I know would be concerned enough to check on me if I called in sick to work. You’ve lived here long enough for me to realize that…that you don’t seem to have anyone like that, either. I never see anyone coming or going on a regular basis - besides the pizza delivery guy, but I don’t think he counts.”
Killian chuckled dryly. “You’re very observant, Swan.” He paused for a moment, debating whether he should open up to her as she was to him. “And you’re also correct,” he added finally. “I moved here from England when I was transferred for my job, and I don’t have any close friends yet.”
She nodded. “I figured it was something like that. The day you moved in, I was…well, to put it bluntly, I was a bitch. And, as I said, I’m not good at apologizing, so I just let things go on being…uncomfortable. When I saw that you were sick the other day, I thought it was my chance to make things better between us, but I screwed that up, too. I just…I guess I wanted to let you know that you didn’t have to be alone while you were suffering - that there was someone who cared. I…I’m sorry I made things worse.”
“You didn’t make things worse,” he assured her. “I appreciate the effort. Actually, if you think about it, it was really quite comical.”
She scoffed. “Yeah, I guess so.”
“And they do say laughter is the best medicine, so your failed attempts at helping are probably what cured me so quickly.”
Seeing the grin on his face, the corners of her own mouth turned up a bit. “You’re an idiot, Jones.”
He took a step closer. “How about if we start over, Emma? It would be nice to have a friend living across the hall.”
She eyed him, chewing her lip in contemplation. Then she held her hand out to him. “Hi, I’m Emma Swan. Welcome to the neighborhood.”
He reached forward to give her hand a firm shake. “Killian Jones. Pleasure to meet you, Miss Swan.”
She smiled and he was amazed at how it transformed her already lovely face. They stood awkwardly for several moments, until Killian said, “Well, I should let you go. Were you on your way to work?”
“Oh, uh, no. I was just going to get something to eat.”
He rubbed his hand along his jaw, dropping his eyes as he asked, “Would you, um…would you like some company?” Looking back up, he saw her eyes widen and hurried to add, “Just as a friend. As you well know, I don’t have much to eat in my apartment.”
She snorted out a laugh. “You still have more than I do at my place.” Turning away from him once again, she said, “If you’re sure, you’re welcome to join me. I was just gonna go to the diner around the corner. Tonight’s special is grilled cheese and onion rings.”
“Ah, greasy diner food,” he said, beginning to follow her. “You do know if you keep eating that stuff, your arteries are going to be filled with sludge.”
She chose to ignore him as she started down the stairs. “They have the best hot chocolate, too.”
“How much sugar do you add to it?” he grinned.
She glared at him over her shoulder. “No sugar, just cinnamon.”
“Cinnamon in hot chocolate? Sounds…interesting.”
She stopped on the landing and turned to look at him. “If you’re gonna make fun of my preferences for food and drink, you’re uninvited.”
Holding his hands up in mock surrender, he said, “I meant no offense, Swan. Perhaps I’ll even give your…unique concoction a try.”
That meal led to another, and many more. Soon they added regular coffee dates. Gradually, at Killian’s urging, Emma tried and eventually acquired a taste for black coffee, no sugar. Even more gradually, at Emma’s urging, Killian acquired a taste for greasy diner food.
Six weeks after Emma’s attempt to nurse Killian back to health, they went on their first official date. Killian was very happy to discover that Emma Swan did indeed have both a sweet and funny side. They realized they had many things in common, as they talked during their dinner at one of Boston’s most renowned restaurants, then walked along the waterfront.
At the conclusion of the date, they shared a kiss outside her apartment door, which opened both of their eyes to the fact that there was a significant spark of attraction between them. As they continued to date, the spark ignited into a blazing flame. (They made sure to replace the expired condoms in Killian’s medicine cabinet, once it was obvious they were going to put them to use.)
They became each other’s ‘person’ - someone to laugh with, cry with, share everything with, and nurse back to health when the need arose. By the following winter, when the flu made its way through Killian’s office once again, he had his own live-in nurse, whose skills were much improved from the previous year.
By that time, they still had a love/hate relationship…but now, it was minus the hate.
*********
A couple of fun notes:
-Colin was drinking a Dr. Pepper Zero during the Meet & Greet I went to at GalaxyCon in Columbus last year.
-At another con several years ago, Jen admitted she never drank black coffee until Colin got her hooked on it. (No pun intended!)
*********
Thank you for reading.
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
@hollyethecurious @laianely @resident-of-storybrooke @exhaustedpirate @caught-in-the-filter @stahlop @veryverynotgoodwrites @darkshadow7 @fleurdepetite @whimsicallyenchantedrose @earanemith @superchocovian @idristardis @captainswan-kellie @beckettj
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everything-person · 4 months ago
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Summary: Princess Emma has gone missing and with the kings promise of a special reward for the one to bring her home safely her friends plan to be the ones to do just that.
A/N: The Rescue is a one shot fic I wrote for Captain Swan January Joy 2021 before that it was a prompt from a Wander Over Yonder episode for a good couple of years. Though I do like my one shot version I will admit I rushed the ending so I am now writing it as a multi chapter on AO3.
You can fin the original one shot on Tumblr Here.
The multi chapter on AO3 Here.
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donteattheappleshook · 8 months ago
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(Belated) Self-Promo Sunday for this silly little oneshot that was actually better than I remembered 💕
Seal of Approval
Tumblr ate my answer so I’m gonna post the story this way. This is a response to an anonymous prompt for a CS/Snowing double date combined with an Ao3 prompt for a CS date set during the six week gap in season 4. 
Big thanks to @xhookswenchx and @teamhook for looking this over when I was pulling my hair out! (also sorry if you accidentally get tagged twice because of this lol)
Also on Ao3 as part of my new CS Prompt Collection
-/-
Emma gets up quickly, sets down one of the giant muffins her mom made and heads in the direction of the crib when she hears her brother crying. Damnit, she’d only just gotten him to sleep, only just gotten to sit down and have a bite to eat. Babysitting sucks. She loves baby Neal - even if she isn’t the biggest fan of his name - but anyone that comes between her and a snack is going to have something to answer for. 
“Hey, man,” she says, picking him up out of his crib and bouncing him on her hip. “Couldn’t hold in the waterworks until Mom and Dad came home?” Neal stops crying and smiles up at her, grabbing a fistfull of her sweater and leaning his head on her shoulder. Okay, maybe he’s not so bad. He could be worse. He could be a giant ice monster, or a dragon, or the Dark One.
She shudders. It’s been three weeks since their last crisis, since the Ice Queen sacrificed herself and since Belle banished Gold from Storybrooke. Emma still can’t believe she did that, can’t believe the amount of guts and backbone that it took for her to do that despite the love she’s sure Belle will always have for him. But he’d gone too far, threatened too many people, lied to them too many times, and he’d had to pay the price. 
Since he’s been gone it’s been, well, quiet. It’s strange - for Storybrooke anyway. Emma and her dad take turns working at the station, Mary Margaret is back at the school regularly now that there’s no monster to fight. Killian has been spending his time working alongside Belle to help free the fairies from the Sorcerer’s hat - that’s a friendship Emma hadn’t seen coming, but she’s glad that Killian has someone else in town to spend time with besides her and David. He’s really starting to feel like a part of the community. 
Today is her day off, and while she’d have liked to spend it hanging out with Killian on his newly returned ship - not that they really ever leave the cabin but that’s besides the point - he and Belle are pretty sure they’ve had a breakthrough and Granny had to cancel on babysitting. So she’d agreed to do it. How much trouble can a kid be? She has fake memories of raising one after all. Neal spits up in her hair. She sighs. How much longer until her parents get home?
“Hi Sweetheart,” Snow says, walking through the door just as Emma has set Neal down with a few of his toys and is attempting to wash baby vomit out of her hair in the kitchen sink. “How was your day?” she asks, picking the baby up. David walks in behind her.
“Great,” she lies. Her mom doesn’t need to know. “He already had his supper but I didn’t give him his last bottle yet.” 
“Thanks,” David says, kissing her forehead. It’s still a bit weird, knowing that David and Mary Margaret are her parents, that they’re the same age as her. But it’s weird in the same way that it’s weird that everyone in town is a fairytale character. She’s starting to get used to it and if she doesn’t think about it too much, she can forget it. Mostly. Usually. 
“How was the station, Dad?” she asks. 
“Quiet,” he says. “Just some teens graffitiing the alley behind Granny’s.” 
“Did you use your scary prince face?” she asks. 
“I don’t have a scary prince face!” he insists. “But no, I sicked Granny on them,” he tells her with a knowing smirk.
Emma laughs. “How was school?” she asks Mary Margaret. 
Mary Margaret goes on to tell her about her day, about the work the kids are doing, how they’re adjusting to everything. She also mentions that she saw Killian and Belle on her way home and that they were finishing up at the library from the looks of it. 
“Killian was walking her home,” she tells her. “It was sweet. I think he worries about her.” 
Emma smiles a little. “Yeah, well, Killian has a history with women who’ve loved the Dark One.” Both her parents frown and she realises this is not a backstory she wants to get into - or one that’s hers to tell. “I think I’ll head over,” she tells them. “Go meet Killian on the Jolly if he’s done for the day.”
“Again?” David asks and the way he says it makes her pause. 
“What do you mean ‘again’?”
“Well you’ve - you’ve been there almost every night this week,” David says. 
“Yeah, it’s Regina’s week with Henry. What’s your point?” she asks with a raised brow. 
“David,” Snow interrupts. “She’s a grown woman. If she wants to spend her time at her boyfriend’s that’s totally up to her.”
“Boyfriend?” David demands, shock and disbelief and a hint of panic in his tone. 
“David…” it’s a warning this time. 
“Do you have a problem with me dating Killian?” Emma asks. She thought her dad was starting to like Killian. Had she been wrong? 
There’s a long, tense moment before David speaks. “No,” he says finally, shoulders falling on his exhale. “I just… didn’t realise you guys were so serious.” He’s trying really hard to sound casual and she appreciates that. 
“Yeah, well,” she says. It is serious. She thinks. They date and spend most nights on his ship together, they’re sleeping together and as far as she knows neither of them are sleeping with other people. He tried True Love’s Kiss on her for god’s sake and as terrifying as that idea still is… well, yeah, she’s pretty sure it’s getting serious. More serious than she’s let anything get in a long time. Walsh doesn’t count. 
“Then I think we should meet him,” David says and both Emma and Snow turn to him in confusion. “Properly.”
“Dad, you know Killian.” Was there another curse that came through town that she didn’t hear about? 
“I don’t mean meet him I mean…” he searches for words. “If we were back in the Enchanted Forest, or even if we’d been able to raise you here, if you were dating someone seriously you would have brought him over, for dinner or something, so that we could meet him properly, as your boyfriend.” He nearly chokes on the last word. 
Emma frowns at him, skeptical. “Is this some weird thing so that you can ask him about his intentions or something?”
“No!” he insists quickly. He clears his throat. “Besides, I already did that,” he adds quietly.
“You did what?”
“He didn’t tell you?”
“No, he didn’t tell me!” 
“Huh,” is all David says. 
“Probably because he knew it would make me annoyed at you. He wouldn’t want that.” David’s face softens and looks guilty all at once. “He’s changed.”
“I know he has. I just… we didn’t get to raise you and meet any of your boyfriends. This time, if it’s something real, I want to get to know him better,” he says and Emma lets her hackles down a little. “Why don’t you invite him over for dinner tomorrow night?” 
“Are you planning to interrogate him?”
“No… I mean I have some questions,” he starts and holds a hand up when Emma starts to protest. “But they’re normal questions. The kind a dad should be allowed to ask the man who’s dating his daughter.” 
Emma sighs. “I get it, Dad. I do. But, I’m not a kid. We’re the same age and bringing my boyfriend over for some formal, meet the parents dinner just feels… weird.”
“Why don’t we do something else then?” Snow chimes in, ever the peacekeeper. “Maybe… a double date!”
“A what?” Emma and David answer in unison. 
“Like you said, we’re all the same age. Why don’t we all go out and do something fun together? That way, we can get to know Killian better without so much pressure. Emma has a point, Sweetheart. The age thing makes it weird so maybe, this way, we can work on being friends,” she finishes very diplomatically, her hand stroking David’s arm. 
“But I…” David starts. 
“Honey, our daughter is a grown woman. Killian is older than you. We can’t pretend she’s a little girl that needs looking after. Besides, it’s been a while since we had a date night.” 
David sighs, caving. “Alright,” he agrees and Emma shares a thankful look with her mom. David looks up again. “But can I at least -”
“No,” Snow and Emma cut him off. 
-/-
“So listen,” Emma says, propping her chin on Killian’s chest, her fingers drawing patterns through the hair there. “I need you to do something for me.” 
Killian’s smile is obscene as he pulls her in closer, hand wandering over her naked back. “Anything,” he promises as his fingers trace over the skin at the curve of her hip. He’s gonna regret saying that, she thinks. She really wishes she didn’t have to ask him what she’s about to ask him because she knows it’s going to stop the trail of his hand cold. 
“I need you to go on a date with me and my parents.” 
He freezes, blinks. “I’m sorry?” he asks with a small shake of his head, eyes wide. “What?” He’s frowning at her now and it’s really almost funny to watch all the emotions play across his face. She pulls back, sits up, letting the sheet fall around her waist and taking a moment to appreciate the way his eyes drift down despite his confusion. 
“David and Mary Margaret want to go on a double date with us.”
“They want to spend an evening out with us? With me? With the man who is currently engaging in sexual congress with their daughter?” 
She smacks him on the shoulder and he laughs, catching her hand and pulling her back down on top of him. “Oh my god. You cannot make reference to the fact that we’re having sex! I think my dad is still trying to convince himself that I’m a virgin.” Killian smiles wickedly again and she glares. “Don’t,” she warns and he bites his lip. 
Keep reading
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lazysoulwriter · 4 months ago
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every loss is a win. - chris sturniolo. ✩
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*✧・゚:*✧・゚:i dont have any idea how this game works but whatever *✧・゚:*✧・゚:
Chris was sitting on the couch in his living room, controller in hand, a playful smirk on his face. His girlfriend, who had just stepped into the room, was looking at him with a raised brow.
“You seriously want me to play Fortnite with you?” she asked, crossing her arms, but there was a hint of amusement in her eyes.
Chris grinned, eyes sparkling with excitement. “I do. You’ll love it, I promise. And if you mess up—” He paused, winking. “I’ll kiss you every time.”
Her lips curled up in a teasing smile, clearly intrigued. “Kiss me every time I die, huh?”
“Exactly,” Chris said, leaning back on the couch, clearly confident in his ability to teach her. “It’ll be fun, trust me.”
She sat next to him, reluctantly grabbing the other controller. Chris set up the game, his fingers moving quickly as he navigated the screen. “Alright, babe, here’s the deal,” he said, eyes still focused on the screen. “Just follow my lead, and you’ll get the hang of it.”
She nodded, though she wasn’t exactly confident. She had zero experience with Fortnite and had no idea what she was doing. But... the idea of Chris kissing her every time she died sounded like a win in her book.
The game started, and her character appeared on the screen. Chris quickly explained the basic controls: how to move, aim, and shoot. She pretended to listen, but her eyes kept drifting to him. The way he gripped the controller, the intensity in his eyes—it made her feel… something.
The game was off to a rough start. She died almost instantly, and before she could even react, Chris was leaning in to kiss her, his lips warm and soft against hers. She closed her eyes, savoring the kiss, but something inside her stirred. A wicked thought entered her mind.
What if… what if she purposely lost, just to get more kisses? The idea made her smile.
She died again—almost immediately, actually—and Chris was quick to lean in and press another kiss to her lips, this time lingering just a little longer.
She bit her lip, suppressing a giggle. “I think I’m getting the hang of this game,” she said innocently, but her plan was already in motion.
A few more rounds, a few more deaths, and Chris kissed her each time. He had no idea. But she did. The game wasn’t really about winning anymore.
“Damn, babe”
“I know,” she said, feigning innocence. But in reality, she was just waiting for the next kiss. And when it came—this time, a little deeper, a little hotter—she couldn’t hold back anymore.
Before Chris could even react, she pulled him closer, her lips crashing into his with a newfound urgency. He gasped, momentarily taken aback. “Woah, what’s going on?"
She didn’t answer, instead pushing him back onto the couch, her hands tangling in his hair as she kissed him desperately, passionately. The game was long forgotten at this point. Her body was closer to his, her hands moving down his chest.
“Do you—do you want to stop playing?” Chris asked, breathless, clearly taken by surprise at the shift in energy.
“Yes,” she whispered against his lips. “I don’t want to play anymore.”
Without another word, she leaned down, kissing him even deeper. The world around them melted away, and for the next few moments, there was no game, no controller—just the two of them, consumed by each other.
*✧・゚: *✧・゚:*✧・゚: *✧・゚:*✧・゚: *✧・゚:*✧・゚: *✧・゚:*✧・゚: *✧・゚
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luthqrs · 5 months ago
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#lisa’s eyes in that goddamn rear-view mirror LISA SWAIN in CORONATION STREET ↝ 18.02.2025
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t-lostinworlds · 2 years ago
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Competitively Stupid | Steve Harrington
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》 PAIRING: steve harrington x female!reader
》 TROPE/GENRE: rivals-ish (since childhood) to lovers, some angst; fluff
》 SUMMARY: It was stupid, jumping off a cliff just to prove that you were better than Steve fucking Harrington. But you were competitive. You were not losing to him. But you know what was stupider? For it to take a near-death situation for you both to confess what you truly feel for each other.
》 WARNINGS: canon divergent (everyone is alive & well & happy thanks), pet names (sweetheart, baby), shitty parents (on both sides), competitiveness on all accounts, r is basically a counterpart of steve during high school (cheerleading captain, queen of hawkins high, swim team captain, etc.), peer pressure-ish, some stupid decisions & stupider actions, very irresponsible cliff jumping (which doesn't end well), drowning, CPR, injuries, an emotional moment™, love confessions, and a happy, sappy ending.
》 WORD COUNT: 5.3k+
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A/N: hi! okay, well, it's been a while since i posted a steve fic so i'm kinda nervous ngl. also, not me making it a habit to include swimmer!steve in all my fics from here on out. this was meant to be short & sweet to dust off the cobwebs but lol. super random. i saw a video of someone cliff-jumping & boom, the idea was born. also, not me using the first aid training i learned in college.
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📍 BLOG NAVIGATION ✩ STEVE H. MASTERLIST ✩ MAIN MASTERLIST ✩
⊱ ─────.⋅♚ *。・゚.★. *。・゚✫*.
This was stupid.
Absolutely idiotic.
You genuinely have no idea why you were even doing this in the first place.
"There's no way you can do it."
Right.
That's why.
The taunting voice of Steve fucking Harrington was the reason why you were standing on the edge of a cliff, looking down at a thirty-foot drop into the dark ocean.
This was supposed to be a relaxing trip with your new found family.
"You know you don't have to listen to him, right?" Robin sighed, so completely over the fact that her two best friends who never got along no matter what she tried, somehow came to an agreement to not listen to her right now.
Not that you could blame her.
You and Steve had been rivals ever since you were kids.
It was what you had always known.
What with narcissistic parents who used their children as pawns to one up each other, you had been conditioned to see him as an enemy from the second you step foot into their home.
Your family was invited into the Harrington residence for dinner as a way of welcoming you to the neighborhood. You recently just moved in, so you didn't know anyone else yet. When you heard that the next-door neighbor had a son who was your age, you had been really excited to gain a new friend.
All that changed when your dad sat you down an hour before, prepping you about how the Harringtons were a respected family in the town, and that you needed to show them you weren't any less than them, if not show them you were better. He drilled it in your brain to be on your best behavior, to be the best and the perfect daughter.
It only got worse when you finally sat down at that dinner table.
The comparisons were endless.
"See, my daughter here is a wonderful gymnast, quite amazing for someone her age."
"How wonderful. Steven here has swimming lessons every weekend. His coach said he might end up in the Olympic team once he's of age."
"Splendid. How about his academics? I'm sure he can take inspiration from my daughter's exemplary grades."
"He's the top of his class. Maybe if they study together, your daughter would be able to catch up in time."
It was harsh, pitting two seven-year-olds against each other—impressionable kids who only wanted to make their mom and dad proud.
But neither your parents nor his truly gave a shit. All they cared about was becoming the best family in the street, if not the whole town.
The sad thing was, those dinners became a regular thing, held alternately between your house and his.
It always looked like a preparation for battle whenever your mom would pull out the finest china in her collection along with the cookbook she only ever used for special occasions.
It was in the guise of cordiality when it was, in fact, an excuse to show off, to make a competition out of everything, a moment to compare who did what best. Those dinners were like monthly scoreboards, tallying up the respective families' recent achievements—and that included yours and Steve's.
Nobody was surprised that the competitiveness stuck with you both.
And it only got worse during high school.
Whether that was something as mundane as winning the popularity contest when running different circles—even going as far as getting crowned the King and Queen of Hawkins High—down to academics and extracurriculars.
Captain of the basketball team. Captain of the cheerleading squad. Prom Queen. Prom King. MVP of the season. Brightest student of the year. Beer pong Queen. Kegstand King. Best summer camp counselor. Lifeguard of the month and it went on and on and on and on.
When he got co-captain for the men's swim team, you rubbed it in his face that you were the captain of the women's team. When you got second place at the science fair, he made sure to rub his first place medal right in your face. When you became president of the student council, you ordered him around to do extra work whenever the basketball team was required to help with community service.
It was a constant back and forth.
There was always a competition between you and Steve Harrington.
And sure, since you graduated, it became subdued. But it was still very much there. Vying on who was the coolest babysitter in your band of ragtags, even fighting to have the title of Robin Buckley's ultimate best friend.
This thing between you and Steve was deeply rooted. So there really wasn't much Robin could do apart from getting in between your frequent squabbles before you started actually killing each other.
In Robin's words, something drastic had to happen for you both to finally wake up and see that this rivalry between you both wasn't what it seemed to be on the surface.
You had no idea what she was even implying.
Now, on a little getaway on the nearest beach you could drive to, the competition started with a race on who could get there first. It wasn't even fair seeing that you weren't the one driving.
The group had split into two, some were in Eddie's van—along with everyone's belongings since he had ample space in the back—while the others were in Steve's Beemer. Since you and Steve couldn't be in the same room together without an argument ensuing, it was a unanimous decision to have you two separated. Nobody wanted to deal with that for hours on the road.
Not that you could blame them, either.
And sure, it was the kids who suggested the race, but with Steve's smug smirk and that arrogant wink he threw once you got into Eddie's passenger seat, you knew it was game on between you too.
Yet despite the metal head being a fast—albeit slightly reckless—driver, he somehow took his sweet goddamn time getting to your destination.
Only when your group arrived at the beach last, did he say something about Steve threatening him to be extra careful with driving because there's important cargo in his van—whatever the hell that meant.
You lost to Steve on that one, but you would argue it was rigged from the start.
The next was a supposed friendly bout on who could build the biggest sandcastle that didn't topple over after a few minutes.
It was boys versus girls with you and him being team leaders. The girls won, obviously and El never used her powers. It was fair and square since the other team mostly argued over everything they could think of and had no teamwork at all. You made sure to point that out to Steve as you watched their sandcastle crumble into ruins.
Another one was beach volleyball. Same leaders as before, but you get to pick the members of your teams this time. Steve made it his mission to pick the tallest of the bunch. Still, it wasn't the advantage he thought it was because it ended up being one point too close.
Your team would've won if Steve wasn't such a dramatic asshole.
It was truly an accident. When you spiked that ball, you were not aiming for his face. He simply thought it was a good idea to catch the ball with it. Besides, he was distracted, flirting with some random girl in a bikini who was passing by, right in the middle of the game.
How was it your fault that he wasn't paying attention?
He made sure to oversell his injury after that, curled up on the sand as the girl fussed over him. But you saw that smirk on his face. You would've hit him again—definitely not by accident this time—if you weren't busy arguing with Robin about the point deduction. She said it was only fair since you hit the ball when she hadn't blown her imaginary whistle yet.
You decided to let it go when Steve commented on you being a whiny sore loser.
Unfortunately, the competition was ending with who could make jumping off a cliff and into the ocean look the coolest—adults only, despite the groans of protest from the mischievous bunch.
Eddie offered to stay behind and watch the rascals. When teased, he simply said he didn't want to test Death today.
His comment didn't help your nerves.
Robin said she was only coming purely as a voice of reason. She'd been saying nonstop how it was a horribly stupid idea, that there really was no need to be doing this in the first place.
But Steve wasn't backing down, so you weren't going to either.
So once again, it was only you and him.
As it always had been.
He volunteered to go first, throwing in a comment about rushing back up the cliff's edge before you could take your turn because he wanted a front-row seat for when you'd chicken out.
It only made you want to do it more.
His dive was smooth, almost flawless, you admit. He even showed off with a little flip near the end. It didn't take long for him to swim back to the shore, either. His years of training as a swimmer were obviously paying off.
But you trained just as much if not more than he had.
The only difference was, adrenaline didn't fuel you as much as it did Steve. So instead of getting all powered up looking down at a cliff's edge like he was, you were terrified.
But who wouldn’t get scared looking down at harsh waves crashing against sharp and jagged rocks? There was no margin for error here because one wrong slip and you'd be dead.
Still, if Steve could do it, you could do it better.
You weren't about to lose to his stupid ass.
"I'm not listening to him," you argued back, taking in a shaky breath as you took a step.
"He's doing reverse psychology!" she squeaked. "So you doing it is still listening to him!"
"I'm fine, Robs, I can do it," you mumbled, a slight questioning lilt at the end of your sentence.
"Look, sweetheart, it's okay to admit defeat," Steve said, cocky voice with an even cockier smile as he crossed his toned arms against his bare chest. His hair was still damp, quick to climb back up so he could get his front-row seat as he promised.
But you weren't chickening out.
Never.
"I mean, it wouldn't be the first time you lost to me so, it shouldn't sting as much."
You ignored him.
Instead, you took another step, the tips of your toes now hanging over the edge.
You can do this. Wipe that smug smirk off his face. You got this.
"Listen, you don't have to do—"
"Shut it, Harrington," you growled.
With a deep breath, you closed your eyes, counting from three, two, one…
You jumped.
-:-:-:-:-:-:-
This was stupid.
Absolutely idiotic.
He shouldn't have pressured you like that.
The jump wasn't deadly, per se, but it also wasn't exactly deemed the safest, especially if you weren't an expert in any sort of way.
And he didn't want to say it out loud because if he did, he knew it would only push you to do it more just to prove him wrong.
But Steve could see how scared you were.
He was already dropping the act, voice laced with concern as he started telling you that he wasn't worth all of this, that he was stupid and that you were always going to be better than him.
But, obviously, you didn't listen.
You simply jumped.
You and your stupidly competitive ass.
"Damn it," he cursed under his breath, rushing to the edge of the cliff, tensely watching your falling figure disappear into the water with a splash.
"You two are complete idiots."
"Shut up," Steve gritted, never looking away from the water. Yet any annoyance was quickly overpowered by sheer worry as he scanned the deep blue for anything.
There was no sign of you.
"Like seriously! It's like I'm the only one with a brain cell here!"
"Come on, come on, come on," Steve mumbled, completely ignoring Robin when you still hadn't emerged to the surface. "Come on, Y/N, don't scare me like this."
"Uh, Steve?" Robin asked after a moment, carefully looking over the cliff before shooting him a worried glance. "You look anxious and you being anxious is making me nervous."
"She hasn't come up," he grumbled, glancing at his watch.
It was nearing a minute.
"Maybe you didn't see her?"
"I haven't taken my eyes off the water, Buckley," he gritted, too harsh and uncalled for since Robin didn't do anything wrong.
But he was panicking.
A minute and thirty seconds.
"Come on, sweetheart, you can do it. You're an amazing swimmer," he whispered encouragingly, hoping some sort of magic would let you hear him underwater all while saying it aloud for his own sanity.
Two minutes.
You could never hold your breath any longer than that.
Steve knew because he always won that competition.
And that was in a calm pool.
"Shit, shit, shit!" he cursed, gearing up to dive after you. "I don't think she's coming up!"
"Okay! Okay," Robin rushed, panicking. "Maybe she's already on the shore. We should go down now and see—"
Steve didn't listen.
He jumped right after you.
The biting cold was awakening.
Still, it was the absolute fear of losing you that was keeping him alert.
He ignored the sting of the salty ocean water in his eyes as he frantically searched for you, his heart beating hard and fast, struggling for oxygen all while fearing for your safety.
Steve didn't know which came first, relief or dread when finally found you, aimlessly floating and unconscious under the deep blue.
He swam to you as fast he could, securely hooking his arm under your shoulder and dragging you up to the surface.
Steve always knew that adrenaline can give you a random boost of strength when needed. He simply didn't expect that to be proven true when he was carrying your unresponsive body in his arms as he brought you to the shore.
He gently placed you on your back on the sand, cupping your face as he checked for any injuries.
You were so cold.
"Hey, hey, wake up," he begged, grabbing your shoulders to try and shake you awake.
Nothing.
"You didn't have to make the jump, you idiot. Why do you always want to prove me wrong," he scolded with no ounce of anger, only worry. He started tapping your cheek frantically. "Come on, wake up!"
Still no response.
"Dammit, Y/N, why'd you have to be so fucking stubborn," he scolded, his voice shaking in fear, his chest tightening as he pressed two fingers against your pulse point.
His own heart stopped when he couldn't feel yours.
And you weren't breathing.
Steve tried to keep himself calm. If he panicked now, he wouldn't be able to give you the aid that you direly need.
"Come on, Harrington. You know what to do. You trained for this," he mumbled to himself, getting into the proper position to give you CPR.
He gently cupped your forehead with his left hand, his other two fingers under your chin as he tilted your head up.
"You're going to be okay," he whispered, pinching your nose before slotting his lips against yours.
Breathing into your mouth, one, two, he watched your chest rise as it filled up with air, only for it to settle back down without coming back up again. He quickly kneeled straighter, locking his fingers together and placing the heel of his left hand in the middle of your chest, pushing down with enough pressure to try and get your heart to start again.
"One, two, three, four, come on, sweetheart, breathe for me," he mumbled, easily finding the right rhythm, his first aid training as a lifeguard coming back to him like it was second nature.
Still, he never wanted to use this skill in a real-life situation, much less use it on you.
It was the longest thirty counts in his life.
Check for a pulse. Check for breathing.
Still nothing.
"Goddammit, Y/N, come on!" he growled, blinking back the tears as he pressed his mouth against yours again.
Two rescue breaths.
Thirty chest compressions.
Steve repeated the cycle over and over. His eyes were stinging with unshed tears, his knees were burning as the rough sand dug deeper into his skin, and his arms were starting to get sore, tiredness slowly covering his aching muscles.
But he'd rather die first than give up on you now.
"Steve—"
"Call for help, Robin!" he ordered, not taking his eyes off you for even a second. When he didn't hear any movement, he yelled, "Don't just stand there! Go!"
He was going to apologize for being an asshole later. For now, he needed you to fucking breathe.
"Come on, come on, please," he begged, leaning back down to give you two more rescue breaths. "Breathe for me, baby, please."
Thirty chest compressions.
"Trying to prove me wrong when I've always been wrong, you idiot."
Five, six, seven—
"Sweetheart, come on," he choked back a sob. "Who's going to call me out when I'm being stupid, huh? You know Robin can't do it alone."
Twelve, thirteen, fourteen—
"And you're really going to leave me alone to watch our kids?"
Twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two—
"Y/N, baby, please, I can't live without you," he whimpered.
Twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thir—
Steve felt his breath leave his lungs when you finally gasped for air.
He quickly turned you to your side, rubbing your back as you choked out all the ocean water that got into your system.
"There you go, you're okay," he whispered, whether to reassure you or himself, he didn't even know anymore. All he was focused on was making sure you were going to be okay.
"S-Stevie?" you coughed out the nickname that was only ever used by you.
It was the equivalent to his nickname for you—sweetheart.
Names that started out to annoy each other but the more often it was used as time passed, it only managed to grow into an endearment that held something warm underneath it. You both were quick to realize that the nicknames you had for each other weren't out of spite anymore.
Neither of you simply addressed it.
"Steady, sweetheart, I'm right here," he reassured, hurriedly getting into your line of sight to stop you from trying to turn around to face him. He gently cupped your cheek, offering you a soft smile when your gaze found him. "I'm not going anywhere."
You nodded as best as you could, your eyes clinging onto his brown ones only for them to screw shut when a shiver ran through your whole body.
"C-Cold," you stammered.
"I know, I know, come here," he said softly, guiding you to sit up before quickly settling behind you. He gently pulled you closer between his legs, his chest pressed against your back as he blanketed his body over yours, rubbing your arms to keep you as warm as possible.
You turned to face him slightly, burying your face into his neck only for you to wince at the slight movement. He quickly tried to steady you again, checking over you twice to look for any visible injury. But he couldn't find any.
"Tell me what hurts," he asked, pressing his lips against your cold forehead as he fully wrapped his arms around you.
"A-Ankle," you whimpered in pain, your grip on his waist tightening and God he hated that sound so much.
You must've rolled it when you jumped, and having landed on it when you reached the water, it definitely made it worse.
"It's okay, you're okay," he murmured, littering kisses against the side of your head to try and keep your mind off it. "Robin already called for help, they should be on their way, alright?"
You gave him a small nod, inching even closer to him, seeking as much warmth from him as possible. Your cold breath was tickling his skin but he didn’t care. Hell, you could be breathing fucking ice and he still wouldn’t give a shit.
As long as you were breathing.
"I need you to stay awake for me, okay?"
"I-I'll try," you whispered.
"First to fall asleep is the biggest loser," he mumbled, squeezing you slightly when he felt your eyes flutter close. "And you wouldn't want me to win this, babe, because I'll be a little shit about it."
"Not f-fair," you choked out a laugh.
"It's plenty fair," Steve chuckled tearfully, ignoring the sudden wetness on his cheeks. He hugged you tighter instead. "So stay awake or you'll lose to me. Again."
"Right there! They're right over there!"
Steve had never been so grateful to hear Robin's voice.
-:-:-:-:-:-:-
"So are you finally going to tell her?"
"Tell her what?" Steve questioned back, unable to take his eyes off of you, soundly sleeping in a hospital bed with your foot now wrapped in a cast.
The doctor had already checked everything and thankfully, there weren't any further injuries apart from your twisted ankle.
Now, all you needed was to rest and recover.
"That you've been in love with her this whole time."
Steve sighed, squeezing your hand before turning to look at his best friend.
"I'm not in love with her, Robs."
"Right," she scoffed, raising a knowing brow. "Because jumping off a cliff with zero hesitation so you could save her is totally normal behavior for someone you claim you hate."
"I never said I hated her," he argued, and it was true. He couldn't think of a single moment where he hated you.
"Yeah, well, you two definitely don't act like you like each other."
"Does she annoy and frustrate the shit out of me? Yes. But I never hated her," he admitted.
Steve didn't know what it was exactly, maybe it was his tiredness muddling his brain, maybe it was from everything that happened in the last couple of hours finally catching up to him, or maybe it was the overwhelming need to confess everything into the open before it was too late—and it almost had been. Either way, he found himself suddenly spewing out all the things that he always just kept to himself.
"She's also been the most constant person in my life, you know? Hell, we basically grew up together. I can't just not care about her," he continued, memories flooding his system before he could even stop it. "She's been so ingrained in my life, her and the cute dresses she wore at those stupid dinners our parents always dragged us to. Her and her stupid competitions whenever our babysitters would bring us to the park together. Her and that stupid dance she always did whenever she won at anything even if it was my expense—she always does this cute little wiggle whenever she won, and that never left her even as we got older," Steve chuckled at the thought.
"And fuck, don't even get me started with how similar our parents are. She's the only one who will always get me when it comes to that," he continued. "And yeah, we compete a lot, but there was no hatred between us. Maybe at the start but all that went away when we learned that whatever our parents were feeding us was bullshit—that they were bullshit.
"And fine, did I sometimes get so annoyed whenever she got a new boyfriend? Yeah. But only because she always had this bad habit of dating fucking assholes. I don't know where she got those dickheads from but every time I see a glimpse of her crying by her window at night I swear to fucking God I would've killed every single one of those assholes if she asked," he gritted, slumping down in his seat with a sigh.
"She deserves to be treated right, you know? She's already experiencing so much shit at home, she doesn't need any more of that anywhere else. Sure, she irritates me to no end but that doesn't mean she's not a sweet girl who always cried whenever some random pet commercial came on the TV during the holidays. Does her competitiveness drive me up the wall? Absolutely. But that doesn't mean I don't feel so fucking proud of her whenever she wins another medal or achieves another milestone. And yeah, I wonder about how she's doing, if she's taking care of herself, if she's getting enough sleep between her work and classes. But that's only because I worry, you know?
"And maybe I do think about her a lot but that doesn't mean I'm in love with…"
Steve blinked.
Well fuck.
"Wow," Robin marveled. "You're stupider than I thought."
"He hit his head as a kid, cut him some slack."
Steve paled at the sound of your voice, swiftly turning red at the thought that you probably heard all the things he said.
He turned to face you, groaning in annoyance when he saw the smug smile on your lips. "You've been awake this whole time?"
"I'll leave you two love birds alone," Robin sang, quickly slipping out of the hospital room and closing the door behind her.
"How much of that did you hear?" Steve asked, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Enough to say you're stupid," you hummed.
He rolled his eyes, leaning back in his seat with crossed arms. "I'm not the one who jumped off the cliff and almost died just to prove a fucking point."
"Yeah, well, I guess we're both stupid then," you snorted.
He shrugged. "I guess we are."
"Jesus, you don't have to act so tense. I mean, you've already given me a mouth-to-mouth, we've practically made out already," you scoffed playfully. "I honestly thought I'd die first before swapping spit with you yet here we are."
It was your attempt at alleviating the tension, to throw in a funny quip. But with everything still so fresh in his mind, Steve simply couldn't take it well.
"Don't fucking joke about that will you?" he snapped, rubbing a frustrated hand over his face.
The silence that followed only made the tension worse.
"I'm sorry," you whispered.
Steve immediately felt bad.
"No, no, no. You didn't do anything wrong, don't apologize," he sighed, meeting your eyes with an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snapped. It's just—"
He stopped himself, chewing on his bottom as he looked everywhere but at you when he felt the tears well up again.
"Will you come here?"
Steve took a calming breath and did as you asked, moving his chair closer but didn't attempt anything else than that.
"Stevie," you called when he still wouldn't look at you.
Harshly wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, he lifted his head. You smiled at him sweetly, wiggling your fingers to get him to come even closer.
"You scared me back there," he croaked, taking your hand with a squeeze.
"I didn't mean to," you softly said, remorseful and apologetic even though you didn't have to be.
"I know," he murmured, pressing your warm palm against his cheek as he shot you a glare. "Just don't do that again."
"Promise," you giggled, stroking his cheek with your thumb.
Steve leaned closer into your touch. "How are you feeling?"
"Better, thanks to you," you hummed, brows furrowing in thought. "When Marcus got that black eye, you said it was because he was playing dirty on one of your games." You tilted your head knowingly. "That wasn't true, wasn't it?"
Steve shrugged. "He hurt you."
"It was a small bruise on the arm, Steve," you reasoned.
"He shouldn't be giving you a fucking bruise in the first place," he growled, the memory bringing back the same anger he felt when he first saw that bruise. The soft tapping of your finger against his cheek calmed him down. "Sorry."
"Did you lose on purpose to get him expelled?"
"What? No!" he scoffed, offended, rolling his eyes when you giggled. "I tried so fucking hard to win that fight, you know, for you."
"You've always been protective of me," you hummed, taking his hand and interlacing your fingers together.
"Don't think I didn't know it was you who dyed that poor girl's hair green that one year in middle school summer camp," he retaliated.
It was a sharp and piercing scream that woke up the whole camp that morning. Everyone rushed out of bed to see what was going on only to find a girl who once was blonde was now sporting bright green hair in the middle of the crowd, crying her eyes out.
Steve would've thought it was only some silly prank if he didn't know who the girl was. But he did. Because the day before he tried to ask her to be his girlfriend, only for her to turn him down in the most embarrassing and humiliating way possible.
It wasn't difficult for him to find out who the culprit was since he immediately noticed how you kept hiding your hands in your pockets for the next few days after the incident.
The counselors quickly found out that the little menace—whoever she was—decided to use permanent dye on the poor girl's hair instead of something washable.
Your green palms colored you oh so guilty.
"She called you pathetic and gross in front of everyone!" you argued, pouting. "You looked like you were about to cry and I hated it."
Steve's heart warmed at that, a smile on his face despite rolling his eyes. "I wasn't about to cry."
"Yeah well," you shrugged, eyes trained on your intertwined fingers, your thumb playing with his. "I'm the only one who's supposed to be mean to you."
"Hmm," he agreed, bringing the back of your hand to his lips. "I guess we've always been there for each other, huh?"
"I guess so," you giggled, cupping his cheek and tugging him closer.
He stood up from his seat, following your lead until he was pressing his forehead against yours.
"Thank you for saving my life, Steve," you whispered, eyes turning glossy as so many emotions covered your irises, the weight of what almost happened catching up with you.
"You don't have to thank me for that," he said sincerely, brushing the tip of his nose against yours. "I'd do it over and over again in a heartbeat."
You nodded, sniffling, "Still, thank you."
Steve wasn't able to argue some more when you all but kissed him.
The first time Steve felt your mouth on his was a horrible experience considering he was trying to keep you alive.
Now, everything was the complete opposite.
A kiss that was careful but sweet, a hint of nervousness and excitement all the same, completely unhurried yet burning with passion as his lips molded against yours.
But still, it felt like that first gasp of air—a finally.
"I'm in love with you, too, by the way," you murmured as you pulled away, your warm breath tickling his lips.
"Thanks for clarifying," he chuckled, eyes laced with adoration, unable to stop his smile from growing wider, warmer. "I couldn't figure that out from the kiss."
"I mean, you are kinda stupid," you teased.
"We're on that same boat, sweetheart," he chuckled. "I'm sure Robin would remind us about that every single day now."
"Unfortunately," you groaned playfully. "God, she gets annoying when she's right."
"Tell me about it," he hummed, brushing his lips against yours, moving away when you chased it.
You whined.
Steve didn't hesitate to dive back in.
✫*゚・゚。.★.*。・゚♛ *.
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snowbellewells · 1 year ago
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@searchingwardrobes Oh goodness! I am sorry I have fallen so far behind on my reading and reviewing, but this was a lovely treat to read while I was home not feeling well. I really warmed my heart and brightened my day. I love the glimpses in the quiet moments CS must have shared along the way but we didn’t get to see in canon. This is an incredibly powerful - I’m just stunned and impressed by how much feeling you can put into a single short one shot!
I love that you mentioned the old song “Brandy” (by LookingGlass, one hit wonders, I believe) I tend to like the sad oldies, so I’ve always liked it, but Emma’s reasons why she doesn’t made me look at it in a whole different light. The fact that Killian understands what she has been through, that he was alone and needed a place to belong for so long as well, it equips him so beautifully to comfort her fears in a way that she can trust and believe in. Their moment here is so heartfelt, so gorgeous, and he even turns the words of the song’s refrain into a promise that can soothe her soul: his life, his love, his lady is no longer the sea - but her. I loved how the honesty of this just clenched my heart too: “Killian shakes his head. “Emma, you said once that you and I understand one another. You, like me, were an orphan. What is the one thing all orphans want more than anything else?” She knows the answer to that is home, and they have become that long for home to each other.
This was so, so wonderful!! Thank you for sharing this with us! It’s a new favorite!!! 💞
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I'm back!!! After months and months of creative exhaustion and writer's block, this story came to me one night when I couldn't sleep. It's just a little one shot of pillow talk in Camelot that's a little fluffy, a tiny bit angsty, and a whole lot of tenderness. I hope you all enjoy it!
Rated T
               Killian wished for the first time for those garish artificial lights of Storybrooke. As Emma said, he was becoming a 21st century man, and he had come to enjoy the ability to see his beloved in all her glory, even after the sun went down. Here in Camelot, however, he had to rely on his sense of touch alone to map the marks on Emma he had come to know so well.
            “You and I, we understand each other,” Emma had said once, and the longer they were together, the more they saw it to be true. Though many a woman had warmed his bed, he still felt self-conscious the first time Emma saw the scars that riddled his body, yet she had smiled in that knowing way she had, and had cheekily said, “let me show you mine.”
            His thumb now grazed the puckered one on her shoulder, a form of punishment by a foster father using the tip of his cigar. He nudged her hair aside with his nose, then lightly brushed his lips across the faint white line behind her right ear, caused by a broken beer bottle.
            “I thought I ducked in time,” Emma had chuckled when she told him the story, “until I felt the trickle of blood dripping down my neck.”
            He knew what it was to make light of a person’s past, as if childhood slavery was just one of those things that happens sometimes. There was nothing normal about it, however, just as there was nothing normal about Emma living in an alleyway at the age of ten ducking from beer brawls.
            Emma shifted in his arms with a contented sigh. He wished she could sleep, but since the darkness wouldn’t allow herself that reprieve, at least she could find solace in his embrace. “You silence the voices in my head,” she had told him, pressing her nose to his collarbone. If that was the case, he would not leave her side, though the sleeping arrangements hadn’t made her father very happy at first.
            Killian’s fingers danced along the jagged scars along her upper back, the newest ones, from when a skip she was chasing pushed her into a plate glass window. That story elicited a shrug and bragging rights that she only missed a few days of work. Bravado – he understood that defense mechanism as well.
            They really did understand one another.
            Emma reached around for his arm and pulled his hand down to lace his fingers with hers. She pressed their joined hands to her chest, and he noticed the slightest change in her bearing. An almost imperceptible stiffening, and did her pulse just kick up a notch? She shifted again, this time as if she were uncomfortable.
            “Are you alright, love?”
            Emma released his hand, and using her magic, she lit the candles in the room. Then she rolled over to face him, her hands fluttering, as if she didn’t know whether to touch him or not. She finally balled them up in the sheet that covered her, pulling it up to her chin.
            “Do you know the song ‘Brandy’?”
            Killian chuckled. “You know my only knowledge of this realm’s music is you and Henry. Right now your lad is educating me on something called punk? Apparently, it was a favorite of his father’s.”
            Emma rolled her eyes. “Oh yeah, Neal loved that stuff. I prefer the classics.”
            “Like those beetle people?”
            “The Beatles, Killian, and yes. Also Motown, Elvis, Creedence Clearwater Revival. I don’t know why, I just always liked the old stuff.”
            “And this song? ‘Brandy’? Is by one of these singing groups?”
            “Uh, no, but it's kind of the same genre, I guess. I don’t know even know who sings it, actually. I thought maybe you’d heard it at Granny’s or something. It’s about this girl and a sailor, so . . . “
            “Ah.” He nodded, encouraging her to go on. He was glad she’d lit the candles, though he still couldn’t see her well. Well enough, however, to see the furrow of her brow and the way her lips turned down. This was obviously about more than a song. “Most sailors I know prefer rum, though. Brandy is a little high brow for our modest tastes.”
            Emma rolled her eyes, which was precisely what he’d been going for. “Brandy is a woman. She lives by the sea and serves drinks to sailors. In a tavern, I guess.”
            “Aptly named.”
            Emma adjusted her pillow beneath her head and rolled over. She continued the story gazing up at the ceiling instead of looking at him.
            “The song tells the story about her and the man she falls in love with. He’s a sailor, and he loves her, but always leaves her.”
            Killian is beginning to see where this is going. He shifts closer to her, propping his head up on his blunted arm so he can look down at her as she speaks. With his hand, he strokes her arm gently.
            “The chorus,” Emma continues, “is what the man always says to her: Brandy, you’re a fine girl. What a good wife you would be, but my life, my love, my lady is the sea.”
            There are many things Killian could say. The first thought that comes to his mind is that the man in the song is either an idiot or a complete cad who most likely has a girl in every port. He’s known the type. People probably assume he’s the type, but he was always careful that his one-night stands had the same expectations he did. He actively avoided women who would be a “good wife.” Not every sailor had good form, however. He could explain all of that to Emma; tell her that the song is unfortunately a common tale, but it’s never been his.
            He knows, however, that none of those things are what Emma needs right now. So he waits, without moving, his hand still caressing her arm. Emma releases a puff of angry breath before speaking again.
            “I’ve always hated that song.”
            “Emma, love,” Killian says gently, shifting onto his back and reaching for her, “come here.”
            She comes to him a bit shyly, and he smiles at her gently as he cups her face with his hand. In her gaze, he can see hesitation. Fear. He doesn’t know if it’s the darkness whispering doubts, or if it’s her same old insecurities, but this is one battle he knows how to help her fight.
            “My life,” he says, kissing her cheek, “my love,” he kisses her nose, “my lady,” he kisses her forehead, then pulls back so he can gaze into her eyes, “is you, Emma.”
            Her eyes well up with tears, and a hesitant smile teases the corners of her mouth. “The Jolly Roger was your home for so long. You had nothing holding you back. Nothing tying you down.”
            Killian shakes his head. “Emma, you said once that you and I understand one another. You, like me, were an orphan. What is the one thing all orphans want more than anything else?”
            “A home,” Emma breathes without hesitation.
            Killian nods, then kisses her fiercely, pulling her to himself, his hand tangling in her hair, pouring into his kiss all his hopes and dreams for their future. When they part, breathless, Emma presses her forehead to his, her smile finally full and joyous.
            “So I didn’t freak you out when I mentioned that white picket fence?”
            Killian tucks her against him, wrapping his arms fully around her. As he kisses the top of her head, he thinks of the real estate ads he and Henry have been looking at, one house in particular that looks fit for a princess, with a view of the sea.
            “Not at all, love. I want that too.”
            Emma snuggles further into his embrace, her hand splayed on his chest, right over his heart.
            “Good,” she says, with that edge of smugness he’s always found so endearing.
            He tries to stay awake, for her sake, but the warm, flickering light of the candles, combined with the softness of her in his arms, lulls him more than the ocean waves. Just as sleep pulls him under, he murmurs against her hair.
            “You’re my home now, Emma. My life, my love, my lady.”
Tagging: @snowbellewells @jrob64 @teamhook @kmomof4 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @spartanguard @xhookswenchx-reads-blog @thislassishooked @thisonesatellite @xarandomdreamx @zaharadessert @huntressandlioness1 @jamif @undercaffinatednightmare @onceratheart18 @sparlecorn93 @sals86 @pirateherokillian @jonesfandomfanatic @linda8084
I don't even know who is around anymore, so let me know if you want to be added or removed from my tag list!!
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myfearless-love · 3 months ago
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Tell Me Where You Are - CS one-shot
Relationship: Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Emma Swan
Characters: Emma Swan, Captain Hook | Killian Jones
Additional Tags: Captain Swan - Freeform, Modern AU, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Agent Emma, Agent Killian, Injury
Summary: In which Killian loses his way in the darkness, and Emma stubbornly helps him find something worth seeing.
READ HERE: AO3
Preview:
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Tagging some folks who might be interested:
@anmylica @elfiola @zaharadessert @gingerchangeling @undercaffinatednightmare
@jrob64 @teamhook @kmomof4 @jonesfandomfanatic @mie779
@winterbaby89 @tiganasummertree @stahlop @rylieblu @ultraluckycatnd
@eddisfargo @booksteaandtoomuchtv @laianely @hollyethecurious @resident-of-storybrooke
@beckettj @whimsicallyenchantedrose @captainswan-kellie @veryverynotgoodwrites @lfh1226-linda
@snowbellewells @caught-in-the-filter @shady-swan-jones @bluewildcatfanatic @fairytalepetzkle
(Let me know if you want to be added or removed from the list)
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snowbellewells · 21 days ago
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CS Fic Rec Monday: "The Rise and Fall of the Storybrooke Book Club" by: @phiralovesloki
This long one shot is such a joy to read!! Especially if you're a book lover and enjoy some fun commentary and banter about novels and their merits between your characters! @phiralovesloki does a brilliant job with that, bringing both Emma and Killian into a book club that neither really wanted to attend, grudgingly sparring about their reading preferences, and coming to really enjoy hearing the other's thoughts and having someone with whom to share their own. She also brilliantly choses and utilizes various other Storybrooke denizens to wonderful effect as the book club is getting off the ground (David, Mary Margaret, Belle, Ashley, etc.)
Definitely a fun one to discover (or revisit!)
"The Rise and Fall of the Storybrooke Book Club" by: @phiralovesloki
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snowbellewells · 11 months ago
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@exhaustedpirate This story was so lovely and wonderful and very much needed after that particular episode and the words that were said. I never particularly felt Emma meant them to be hurtful, but I could also see how they would trouble Killian and stay with them weighing on his mind. 🥺❤️‍🩹
It’s hard for me to even pick favorite lines to quote back to you, as the whole entire thing spoke to me - seriously!! You really did a brilliant job portraying Killian’s shame and doubt though, when he pulled away and tried to hide his hook, and how Emma reassured him, held onto it, and made right the injury she had inadvertently caused.
Plus, then, at the end, when they’ve turned the “handless wonder” insult into very much a spicy compliment and a secret between them that bonds them even closer. 💖💖💖It’s perfection!! (And who could resist Henry loving the drama?!? 😉😁)
Thank you so much for sharing this with us!!
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her handless wonder
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this all came to be from my love for the season 3 finale, my unsatisfaction at the resolution of that little Emma slip up a couple of episodes before AND my dislike of Regina; blended it all up and added a sprinkle of smut and voila! edited by the amazing @belovedcreation
rated M | 2498 words
also on AO3
“You traded your ship for me?”
“Aye.” 
It feels like hours ago and no time at all that he had made his confession. It still makes her heart pound just thinking about it. The truth and the devotion in his eyes meant that she could have done nothing except kiss him. Not that it was a hardship, really.
Killian kisses her now, on a dark corner next to the bathrooms, his lips insistent and passionate. Emma wraps her arms around his neck and prepares for the ride. Distantly, she knows they should stop - anyone could find them there. 
But his body is strong and warm against hers and his arms tight around her waist. Her self-restraint has limits - she had to wait an hour already (an eternity) so that she could make a quick exit, claiming exhaustion, and catch Killian’s attentive eye so he would know to follow her. Which led to her pressing him against the wall of this dark corner and pulling his lips to hers before he could say anything else to delay her desire to kiss him. And touch him. And hold him. And be touched by him.
Her lips trail down to his neck, hearing his quick breathing against her ear. She touches his chest over his many layers, her fingers caressing the chest hair peeking out through the shirt’s opening, and she feels his hand and hook on her hips. She smiles against his neck, worrying a mark to his hot flesh and feeling her insides tingle at the responding groan. 
“Touch me,” she demands, grabbing his wrists to urge him to do something, anything, her mind too flooded by desire to think of specifics.
But he flinches and pulls his arms away from her gasp. She lets him go, not wanting to force anything on him, and looks up. His lips are parted and his breathing rapid, signs of his lust, but there’s shame in his eyes overtaking the desire even as he tries to escape her gaze. 
“What’s wrong?” she asks quietly and places her hand on his cheek to bring his eyes to hers. “Killian?”
“I think,” His voice is rough as he responds, eyes shuttered even as he looks back at her. “We should stop, hmm, for tonight.” 
She wants to respect his wishes, she does, but she knows he’s deflecting. He wants her, can feel the proof of that against her belly, but something is stopping him. And then she notices how, while his right arm stays at his side, his left is carefully hidden behind his back.
“Killian,” Emma insists, her hands laying on his shoulders before slowly moving down his arms. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
“It-I-” He stutters and that’s even more jarring than him stopping her advances. He flinches when she finally takes hold of his hand and hook and she finds her final clue.
“Is it because of this?” she asks, keeping her eyes on him while she tugs on his hook. He doesn’t answer but she sees the truth in his eyes. “You know, I don’t care about that, right?”
Killian takes a deep breath and there’s carefully hidden pain in his eyes. “That isn’t what you said earlier,” Emma frowns, her mind working overtime to figure out his meaning. And, like a lightning strike, she remembers - Davids insists Hook join her and she deflects, of course, because she’s emotionally fucked up: “What is he gonna do? I have magic. He’s got one hand.”. In her remorseful reminiscing, he is able to extricate himself from her loose grip. Her cheeks redden with shame and she looks away. He sighs. “It’s alright, Emma, don’t feel obligated to be with me just because of what I did.”
That catches her attention though. She looks up sharply and finds a resigned expression in his face. “No,” she says determinedly and sees his eyes widen slightly. “That’s not why I’m doing this.” She takes hold of his hand and hook once more, her grip tight. “I’m kissing you because I want to kiss you and I'm touching you because I want to touch you.”
He shakes his head against her determination. “Emma, it’s-”
“I was wrong and stupid,” She interrupts and locks his gaze with hers. “I said it because I was pushing you away, because I didn’t want you to get hurt. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said it,” She pulls his arms around her and feels warm at how they instinctively wrap around her again. “I don’t care that you only have one hand, I care about you and I care about being with you.”
He doesn’t let her say more, his lips pressing against hers in a hungry kiss, one she is more than happy to reciprocate, her arms wrapping around his neck. Their bodies mold against one another and she relishes the warmth, the perfect fit of their bodies. His hand finds the round curve of her ass and she grins against his lips before letting out a pleased gasp when the cold metal of his hook finds the bare skin of her back. 
“Besides,” she whispers. “I’m sure you can do a lot more with one hand than many men can with two. Wanna prove it to me?”
He chuckles darkly, his lips at her ear, teeth finding the flesh of her earlobe. She feels warm and like there’s electricity in her veins. She has never felt this way from such small touches before. “As you wish, Swan,” he whispers back in a hoarse voice, warmth pooling between her legs. “But we should find a more private place, don’t you think?”
She doesn’t answer, her hips grinding against his and her hands covering every inch of his body she can reach. Emma sucks in a sharp breath and takes hold of his hook. Without a word, she pulls him up the stairs, his steps in time with hers. They reach his door in a blur but it’s been far too long since she’s kissed him. He must feel the same way because he twirls her around until her back hits the wall next to his door and takes her lips in his.
“Killian,” she sighs against his lips, her hands grasping his shoulders.
“I got you, love,” he mumbles, hand finding the waistband of her jeans. “I got you.” His lips trail down her neck, focusing on her pulse and she feels like she wants to scream in victory. It feels better than she ever imagined. And she did imagine. A lot.
Emma is so distracted by his talented lips kissing, nibbling and sucking her skin that she doesn’t realize he unbuttoned her jeans until she feels his warm hand over her underwear. “Please,” she gasps, his fingers circling slowly against her clit. “Touch me, please.”
Her begging works. With a growl, he nibbles on her collarbone as he slips his hand inside her underwear and she swallows her sigh of relief with a loud moan. His hand stops and she opens her eyes to see him glancing around before looking back at her with a glint in his eyes.
“You’re going to have to be quiet, love,” he whispers and she bites her lip at the sound, his fingers twitching over her pussy at her reaction. “Can you do that for me?” he asks and his hook caresses her jawline.
She nods enthusiastically, rubbing her thighs together to urge him to touch her more and he grins, a smile full of promise and lust. He slants his lips over hers and she feels his fingers press against her clit, sinking her teeth on his bottom lip. 
“Gods I can’t wait to feel you around my cock, Emma,” he murmurs as his fingers begin to circle at a quickening pace. “You’re going to feel amazing, aren’t you?”
“Yes, yes,” she gasps, gripping his biceps tight in her grasp. “I want to feel you inside me.” 
His hook slides up against the skin of her belly and her mouth parts in a gasping moan. She feels his eyes on her but all she can focus on is the way his circling fingers quicken and his hook reaching the fabric of her bra. With desperate movements, she unhooks her bra, letting the undergarment sag underneath her clothing. She takes hold of his brace and looking into his eyes, she pulls his hook against her breast. His eyes darken as if he can see it, as if he can feel it, and she likes to believe he does. 
The cool metal presses against her hard nipple at the same time he slides a finger inside her. “More,” she whispers, she begs. “More.”
“Fuck,” he gasps, sliding a second finger inside her while pressing the heel of his palm against her clit. “You’re going to come for me, aren’t you, Emma?”
She nods desperately, wanting nothing more than to grant him that desire. But she needs something more, she needs- His lips find hers, a burning kiss. “Then, come, my love, come for me.” he begs against her mouth and his teeth find her bottom lip.
She shatters with a silent scream, his fingers slowing down to drag out her climax, to turn her into jelly in his arms. His left arm wraps around her waist to pull her against him, holding her up in her unstable legs. Emma blinks her eyes open to find him watching her, a desperate look in his eyes.
“I knew you’d look enchanting when you come,” he whispers and she is surprised to feel her body heat up at the praise, at the sound of his voice. His fingers drag between her folds slowly, whispering over her clit. “Better than I imagined.”
“You imagined it?” She smirks as her hands rub up and down his arms. 
“Many, many things, Emma.”
“So did I,” she confesses and bites her lips at his sharp intake of breath. Her hands move to his chest, feeling his heartbeat and slowly making their way to the waist of his leathers. “Should we go inside your room and see if reality measures up to fantasy again?”
“With pleasure, love.” 
Despite her request, she is still disappointed when he has to remove his hand from her clit. But he more than makes up for it by licking his fingers clean from her essence, his eyes fluttering shut with delight at her taste. He cups her chin and kisses her, his tongue tangling in his hers and she gasps out a moan at her taste in his tongue. His hips grind against hers and she feels his hardening desire against her. Her hand cups his cock over his pants and he pulls away from her lips to let out a strangled moan.
“Shh,” she grins, her hands massaging him while he looks at her with that blazing gaze and his bottom lip captured between his teeth. “You’re going to have to be quiet.” Her grin widens as she repeats his order back to him. “Can you do that for me?”
“Bloody hell,” he groans before fumbling for his keys in his coat pockets.
It takes too long for the door to open, especially when Emma is much more interested in pressing her body against his back and running her hands everywhere she can reach. The door slams behind her and the lock is turned determinedly, her body vibrating with anticipation and desire. The result is scattered clothing, rumpled sheets, sweaty bodies, a delicious morning shower and more orgasms than she ever thought she was capable of having. A perfect first night together. First of many.
Early in the morning, with her naked body draped half on him, half on the bed, she traces her fingers down his left arm, fingertips tracing his scars lightly. His right arm curls tighter around her waist but he doesn’t stop her.
“Maybe I should start using Regina’s nickname for you,” she randomly says, trying to cover up the teasing in her voice.
“Captain Guyliner?” She can hear his raised eyebrow. Ridiculous.
She grins, finally looking up at him. “Handless wonder.” There is teasing in her voice but also fondness, so much affection she feels like she’s drowning.
“So, just as good as a man with two hands?” He raises his eyebrow in jest but she can see his desire for an answer. 
“Hmm.” She bites her lip and swings her leg to straddle him, the sheet falling from her shoulders, her body in full view of his eyes in the light of the rising sun. She grinds her folds against his length and bites her lip at his moan. “A million times better.”
---
Regina is part of the family. Emma really needs to remember that. 
Needs to remember that she is Henry’s adoptive mother and Snow’s … stepmother. God. Needs to remember that family dinners are a great thing and, after so long on her own, she loves her family, loves spending time with them. No matter how hard it gets to do so.
“Next time, Miss Swan,” Regina’s haughty eyebrow is pointed judgmentally at the bread rolls she was asked to bring, “get something of quality.”
Murder is bad. Murder is illegal. She is the Savior, she can’t murder people. 
Killian’s hand finds her thigh under the table, massaging it reassuringly, and her pulse slows. She turns her head towards him and smiles back at him in gratitude. He pats her jeans covered flesh and turns back towards the table. 
“Actually, your Majesty,” She loves the way he says it like an insult, nothing like the way he refers to her mother. He stretches his arm to take a bread roll from the basket. “I was the one who chose these as they are my favorite.”
It’s a lie. Emma had been the one to pick them - finding the cheapest option, considering they were just bread rolls - but she wasn’t going to say so. He grins at the former Evil Queen as he takes a bite of one. He doesn’t fake it. He doesn’t care, not like she does. No one does.
She sees Henry trying to hide a grin from the corner of her eyes. He enjoys family dinners but Emma thinks he enjoys it more because of the inherent rivalry between his adoptive mother and his birth mother’s boyfriend. Maybe she should have a talk with her son about his enjoyment of family drama. Although she’d feel like a hypocrite.
“Of course, the Savior can’t think by herself without her handless wonder.” 
Regina speaks with disdain, meant as an insult. It would be, at any other point. But they remember that first night, his insecurity, her reassurance, his touches, his talent. And so, to the surprise of the smirking Queen and exasperated family members, Killian laughs. And Emma laughs with him.
“You are absolutely right, your Majesty,” Killian smirks, sitting back on his chair and subtly placing his hand back on her thigh. “I am her handless wonder.”
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vetteltea · 2 years ago
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Strawberry tea: playing with Carlos’s hair omgggg
☕︎ strawberry tea
CS55 and 'playing. with. his. hair.'
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Despite the three-week break, he’s utterly exhausted, and all you wanted to do was help him.
Between the constant simulator training,  gym sessions and endless appearances for Ferrari’s media presence, Carlos was a ghost of himself; his smiles on each precious call fading by the moment, eyes dulling as each day passed away from his beloved.
You wanted to be there, of course you did. However, your relationship was fresh. New. You’d seen it go horrifically bad for other couples who had publiciced their relationship on the grid and the last thing either of you desired was for hate and opinions from the outside world to shatter your privacy. 
That’s why you were there now; sat in his bed, Piñon resting at the foot of the bed, keeping you company in the soft bed sheets. You’d been so engrossed in paying the puppy attention, heart melting each time he nuzzled closer into the blankets that you didn’t hear the latch of the door, bedroom entrance opening and soft barks emitting from the furry companion. 
Even sleep deprived, Carlos looked nothing but breathtaking. Dark tufts of hair were messy against his forehead, clad in a gray hoodie and dark track shorts. Every ache, every groan of his muscles is immediately relieved upon seeing you in his bed, a smile finally returning to his face as he lets his heavy bag drop to the floor.
“Mis bebés.” He’d murmured, running a gentle hand across the top of Pińon’s head, the dog relaxing into Carlos’ touch and ceasing his barking. Dark eyes then transfixed onto you, letting his body crawl across the soft fabric, arms collapsing when his face reached your lap, resting his head on your soft thighs. 
“Oh, my baby.” You responded, hands placing down your now discarded book, softly stroking a hand across his warm scalp. He’s so strained, overworked to such a standard he can barely string five words together. Even now, nestled in the warmth of your thighs, the man is hyper-aware that his moment of bliss will come to an end; he’ll be whisked away back to fast cars and media stunts. 
But for now, he can feel his tension melt away, seep out of his muscles as your strong fingers massage his head, trailing through his dark tufts, brushing the locks away from his forehead. An audible moan falls from his lips, the feeling sent him to another place, entirely in a new headspace from the contact. 
His head immediately snapped up the moment you stopped the contact, eyes widening at your sudden lack of attention. Tanned fingers interlock with your own, pulling your hand to rest back atop of his head. You can’t help the laugh which passes your lips, his head sinking back down into your lap now the contact has been restored.
“Better?” You’d softly hummed, feeling his nose nuzzle back into your leg, content to fall asleep in this position and awaken later, finally reunited with the woman who had undeniably stolen his heart. 
“Better.”
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part of the vetteltea 500 celebration!
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princess-and-the-swan · 1 year ago
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CS Fic Recs: Sex Pollen
Happy (smutty!) Sunday and happy mother's day! To commemorate such a wonderful day, I thought I'd put together a list of some great CS Sex Pollen fics I've found.
Bouquet for Two ...with a View by @belovedcreation
all i want is you by @caprelloidea
A Cursed Land by totheendoftheworldortime79
abandon by @wistfulcynic
Because by @phiralovesloki
Don't Touch by majorshipper
Amatory by On the Darker Side
If there's anything I missed, please let me know! I tried to only get the super smutty ones in this list, but I'm sure there's a handful more out there if you look hard enough! Enjoy!
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snowbellewells · 2 years ago
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@athenascarlet Oh that was a delicious mental image to grace us with, no doubt about it! You captured that teasing seductiveness that clearly a merman version of Hook would surely possess, along with a mysterious beauty.
You also picked the perfect time frame in which to set this bit of canon divergence. Emma was trying so hard to keep her distance, go back to normal, and figure out what wasn’t right about Henry. It probably would have taken something about as drastic as a merman version of Killian to draw her out of denial of much time at all. She’s still trying to tell herself that their Neverland kiss was a “one time thing”, but here in the moments between them the chemistry sizzling between them is still there - alive and well. Hook knows it too and I love how he banters back and forth with her. She really can’t deny it, even if she won’t give in yet, which you captured so well!!
This was a lovely, fun read. Thank you for sharing it with us.
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The Merman Pirate
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Summary: Emma was trying to settle back into normal life after her trip to Neverland so answering calls to the sheriff’s office feels good again. Except the call leads her to the local school and something she never expected. Rating: T Notes: For @cssns! I’m so excited to get this story out for Captain Swan Supernatural Summer. I’ve been thinking about Hook as a merman for awhile now and found this to be a fun one-shot to get out of my brain. Post-Neverland but pre-Pan curse. Just a normal night with a princess and a pirate. ;)
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The sky was dark and stormy as Emma drove through the streets of Storybrooke with her windshield wipers on high to clear the water away.
She had been back for a whole day from Neverland and was already fielding calls to handle another issue as a sheriff of this town. She didn’t really mind though. After being stuck on that stupid island for however long they were there, it was nice to be back and handling the normal calls that came into the office.
It also helped to distract her from what was going on with her son. Henry didn’t seem himself after the Jolly Roger returned to town, but she was still trying to figure out exactly what was going on there.
So a report to the sheriff’s office that someone broke into the town’s school? Totally normal and a good distraction.
Keep reading
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lazysoulwriter · 5 months ago
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late night drives. - chris sturniolo.
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just fluffyyyyyyy with ma baby chris.
send requests if u want to! always open.
I DONT DO SMUTS!!!!!
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It’s been a couple of months since you and Chris started your late-night drives, and every single one of them feels like a tiny adventure, one that keeps getting better with time. Ever since he got his driver’s license, it’s been the two of you, just cruising around, living in your little bubble.
The messages always come unexpectedly, like clockwork: “I’ll pick you up in 10.” No matter what time it is, no matter how tired you are, you always find yourself eagerly waiting for him to show up, ready to spend the night together. You love it more than anything.
When he pulls up outside your house, the door opens, and there’s that signature grin of his. He’s already got your iced tea—just the right amount of ice, a little lemon, and not too sweet. You smile, accepting the drink, your hand brushing his as you settle into the passenger seat.
“You know me too well,” you say, sipping the iced tea. “How did I ever get so lucky?”
Chris chuckles, his eyes sparkling as he glances over at you. “I’ve got my ways,” he teases, reaching over to turn up the volume on the stereo. “Besides, I know you better than anyone else. I mean, you practically live off this iced tea.”
You laugh, the sound light and carefree, and as he pulls away, you both fall into that perfect rhythm. There’s no rush, no agenda, just the simplicity of being together. You start singing along to whatever’s playing on the radio—out of tune, but it doesn’t matter. The music, the car, the soft hum of the engine—it’s all so familiar.
“Okay, but you’re way off key,” Chris says with a smirk, nudging you gently. “Maybe I should start a band, just me, and you—The Off-Key Duo.”
You roll your eyes dramatically, but the smile that pulls at your lips gives away that you’re not mad at all. “Well, someone has to keep you in check. You’re the one who can’t hold a tune.”
He bursts out laughing, glancing at you. “You’re lucky I love you” he says, eyes softening as he keeps his focus on the road. But there’s something in the way he says it—like he really means it.
The night passes like this—lighthearted, fun, but there’s a subtle depth to it too. At one point, you stop for food, laughing over random things that don’t really make sense, but to you both, they’re hilarious. You end up in a little diner, munching on fries, playfully arguing over which one of you can finish a milkshake faster.
But tonight? Tonight feels different.
The roads start to empty out, the lights of the city fading as you drive toward a quieter part of town. The air is cool, and you feel this soft, unexpected shift in the atmosphere. It’s around 4 AM now, and the first light of dawn is peeking over the horizon, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink.
Chris pulls the car over to the side of the road without a word, turning off the engine. There’s a brief silence as the two of you sit there, the world outside suddenly feeling so peaceful, so still.
He turns to face you, his eyes a little more intense than usual, and your heart skips a beat. The moment feels heavier now, like the weight of everything between you two is hanging in the air.
“Chris, what’s—” you start to say, but he cuts you off gently.
“Listen,” he says softly, his voice uncharacteristically serious. He reaches over, taking your hand in his, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “I’ve been thinking about this a lot, and I don’t want to wait anymore.”
Your heart races, unsure of what’s coming next. You squeeze his hand, trying to ground yourself. “What do you mean?”
He looks down for a moment, as if collecting his thoughts, and then looks back up at you with an expression so sincere, it makes your chest ache.
“I love you,” he says, his voice steady, but there's a vulnerability there, like he’s letting go of something important. “You’re the one. I know it’s only been a couple of months, but when I’m with you, it feels like it’s always been this way. You’re everything to me. No one else matters.”
You feel your breath catch in your throat, a lump forming in your chest. This moment, right here, feels like the most real thing in the world. You blink, trying to keep it together. “Chris,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. “I love you too.”
He leans closer, his forehead resting against yours for a brief moment, his breath warm against your skin. There’s no need for more words—everything that matters is already said. But there’s something about hearing him say it that makes your heart feel full in a way you didn’t know was possible.
He pulls back slightly, eyes shining with affection, and grins. “I was kind of hoping you’d say that.”
You laugh softly, the tension melting away, and the next thing you know, he’s kissing you gently, slowly, as if savoring the moment. It’s sweet, full of everything you’ve both been feeling. Every late-night drive, every song, every glance—it all comes together in this kiss.
You pull away, resting your head against the headrest with a content sigh. “I feel like I’ve been waiting for this moment forever,” you admit, the words slipping out before you can stop them.
Chris smiles, his thumb tracing your knuckles again as he glances at you, his voice low. “I think I’ve been waiting too.”
You smile back at him, your heart swelling with something you can’t quite explain. He’s not just saying it—he’s showing you every single day. He’s the one. And you’re the one for him too.
“Can we just date already?” you ask with a playful smirk, raising an eyebrow.
Chris laughs softly, pulling you into another kiss. “You’re already mine,” he murmurs against your lips, the words sealing it in a way that feels more real than anything you’ve ever known.
And in that moment, you know—you’re both exactly where you’re meant to be. Together.
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