#cs valentines fic

[jrob64]

❤️❤️❤️

Self Promo Sunday: “More Than Cards and Flowers”

With Valentine’s Day this week, I couldn’t resist coming back to this little one shot and giving it a re-blog.

With this one, I just wanted to write a bit of festive fluff and feels for Valentine’s Day, and to have Killian and Snow White share some bonding time, and to develop for them the sort of friendship and understanding he and David seem to have found. This may not have the amount of steamy CS interaction one might generally see in a Valentine’s one shot, but it’s definitely still very much CS. (Sometime post s.6)

Please enjoy! I don’t own them, but I would love to hear what you think…

Can also be found on AO3 and ff.net

~*~

“So, Killian, if you don’t mind me asking,” Snow spoke up curiously from the bowl of forming meringue that she had been carefully whipping into peaks for the last few minutes. “Why was I the one you called?”

At her question, Killian Jones chanced a brief, darting glance up to meet Emma’s royal mother’s eyes. The apples of his cheeks and tips of his slightly pointed ears flushed red – he could feel the heat of them – but there was no going back. “You seemed the best candidate to approach for advice on modern cooking and appliances, Milady,” he offered mildly. Truth, to be sure, but he sensed she could read him nearly as well as Emma and could tell it wasn’t the whole reason.

Shaking her head, Snow pressed mischievously, “Oh really? Me? With the soft spot that Granny seems to have for you?”

He snorted there, humored in spite of himself. “Aye, well, though the Lady Lucas does have her charms,” he shrugged with a rapscallion’s smirk, “I was hoping for something a bit fancier than meatloaf or grilled cheese.” He scratched behind his ear sheepishly and added, “Not to mention that, this surprise being for Emma, I felt you would be the one motivated as I was to make the holiday wonderful for her, your Majesty.”

Snow White’s lovely features sobered and gentled immediately at his words; her heart melting as she reached over to lay her soft hand on his forearm. She didn’t speak for several moments, merely waiting patiently, kindly, for him to lift his eyes to hers once more. When her daughter’s True Love finally did just that, the emotion in their blue depths nearly stole her breath. “I’m happy to help you,” she responded hoarsely, blinking back tears at the obvious devotion this man held for her daughter, at the knowledge that her lost little girl was finally cherished as she always should have been.

Keep reading

[whimsicallyenchantedrose]

Valentine’s Rerun (1 of 2): Cupid’s Grenade

Tagging a few people who may be interested (Let me know if you want to be added or taken off the list): @sailormew4 @annaamell @flslp87 @emmateo26@bethacaciakay @ultraluckycatnd @effulgent-mind @ilovemesomekillianjones @kat2609 @brooke-to-broch @missgymgirl @galadriel26 @the-lady-of-misthaven @charmingturkeysandwich @jennjenn615 @laschatzi @kimmy46 @snowbellewells @iamanneenigma @daxx04 @nickillian @in-spirational @gillie  @britishguyslover @ginnyjinxedandhanshotritafirst @kmomof4  @linda8084 @golfgirld @captain-swan-coffee @searchingwardrobes @hollyethecurious @laughswaytoomuch  @allyourdarlingswans  @winterbaby89 @facesiousbutton82 @therooksshiningknight, @lfh1226-linda @tiganasummertree  @jrob64  @anmylica     @cosette141​

Originally part of my Fluffy Fridays collection. When a mysterious stranger comes to town and sets off a magical grenade in Granny’s during the breakfast rush on the day before Valentine’s Day, the residents of the town suddenly feel extra amorous. What will Emma and Killian do if the spell doesn’t wear off?

CS Genre: Canon divergence from early 3b

He crossed the town line into Storybrooke late on the night of February 12th.  He walked for half a mile before he reached anything resembling civilization, wanting nothing more than a place to rest and regroup, a place to plan his next move.

It had been an extraordinarily bad year.  So much discord, so much division everywhere he turned.  It drained his energy, his very life source like nothing had since the last Ogre War.  He needed an infusion, and he needed one fast.  Thank the gods Valentine’s Day was little more than a day away.

He passed a shop, dark and closed, caught his reflection in the picture window and jumped back, startled, bringing one wrinkled, bony hand to his equally wrinkled, bony face.  He was even further gone than he’d previously believed.  He could only hope the rumors about this sleepy little town were true.

“Storybrooke, that’s where you want to go,” the seer had assured him.  “Not only is it the only source of magic in this land, but it’s brimming with True Love, both that which is acknowledged, and that which is denied.”

If he had any hope to survive the week, he needed that True Love.

If this world had any hope to survive, they needed him just as badly.

He walked slowly, laboriously, looking for the most opportune place.  Town hall?  No, it emitted angry energy, a place of discord.  A brick building with a sign over the door calling itself The Rabbit Hole was promising, but still not quite right.  Finally, he arrived at an establishment with tables and chairs on the terrace, a bright, neon sign proclaiming Granny’s.

Perfect.

~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~

The next morning, Granny’s

Killian stepped from his room in the bed and breakfast and headed downstairs to the cafe where he was to meet Swan and her parents for a quick strategy meeting while they dined on Granny’s delectable fare.

He smiled to himself, an extra spring in his step as he walked.  The situation in which the residents of Storybrooke found themselves was, once again, less than ideal.  An unknown, unnamed villain had cursed them back to Storybrooke and wiped their memories of the past year, and no one had any idea why.  He should be concerned; he knew he should, but he couldn’t stop the joy that bubbled up within his heart.

Selfish though the thought was, he was grateful for the villain’s machinations, grateful for the curse.

For it was the curse that allowed him to cross worlds, the curse that allowed him to be reunited with his Swan, the curse that ended the hell that had been the last year without her.

Oh, he’d tried to convince himself that he’d merely needed to return to his pirate lifestyle, but every step he took away from her, away from the hero he’d tried to become for her, had felt wrong, made him feel her loss even more acutely.

Slowly, but surely he’d come to realize that it was more than just the loss of the love of his life that made his pirate activities lose their luster.  He’d changed.  Not just because of her, but because of himself.  He wanted to be a good man, a hero.

Killian stepped into the cafe.  Early though it was, the sun had barely come up, the establishment was already brimming with business.  He scanned the tables until he saw her sitting at a booth across from her parents.

His heart turned over.  She was so bloody beautiful, so bloody precious to him.

He knew she was hesitant to embrace life here in Storybrooke once again.  She loved her parents, held at least some amount of affection for him, but the weight of being The Savior hung heavy on her.  He couldn’t blame her for wishing to retain the seemingly peaceful existence she’d lived with her lad in New York.

Still, she’d come back with him, had agreed to help her family, the whole town, defeat the newest threat to their safety.  He could only hope to one day exhibit half her courage and selflessness.

“Hook, you finally made it,” Swan said, scooting over and patting the seat next to her.  “After all your talk about being a pirate and rising with the sun I thought I was going to have to go up and drag your butt out of bed.”

Killian gratefully took the seat next to Emma, using all his willpower to avoid imagining Emma coming to his bed.

“I rise with the sun, darling,” he said with a grin, “but it would seem you lot couldn’t wait for that auspicious occasion.”

Emma looked down, playing with the handle of her mug of cocoa.  “Yeah, well we wanted to make sure and meet early enough that we could talk before Henry wakes up.  Don’t want the kid to get freaked out with mentions of curses and villains and whatever other crap we need to discuss.  He doesn’t have his memories, after all.”

Snow White reached across the table and covered her daughter’s hand on her mug.  “Don’t worry, honey.  We’ll find a way to bring back Henry’s memories.  Somehow.  And until then everyone here has agreed to live like that sleepy, normal town we thought we were during the curse.”

Emma glanced aside, a look of guilt on her face, and not for the first time, Killian wondered if she even wanted her son to regain his memories.  He could feel the turmoil coming off of her in waves and he wanted nothing more than to wrap her in his arms and sooth the tension away.

But he knew his Swan better than that.  She’d rebuilt the fortress around her heart over the last, long year of separation, and it would take him some time to help her disassemble it; some time before his advances were once again tolerated, let alone welcomed.

“Okay,” Emma said, after a deep breath, “so we know someone cursed you.  We know a year has gone by that you don’t remember.  We know crossing the town line turns people into, I can’t believe I’m going to say this, flying monkeys.  Anything else I’m missing?”

“I had a conversation with the dwarfs,” David answered, “and after their latest patrol at the town line, they found…”

Suddenly the door to the diner was slammed open, the bell above ringing angrily.  The entire diner went silent, still, as the oldest man Killian had ever seen walked slowly in until he was standing in the very center of the room.  Dressed all in red, quite the dapper tuxedo and top hat at that, the man walked, hunched over, leaning heavily on a cane.  Every eye was on him as he stopped, looked at the gaudy Valentine’s Day decorations Granny had hung, shaking his head at the Cupid with his bow and arrow, and then reached into his breast pocket.

Killian watched, fascinated as he pulled out a small red object in the shape of a heart, pulled a pin from its center, tossed it to the floor and then slowly began walking away.

“Grenade!”  Leroy shouted as the object began smoking.

Chaos ensued as the cafe’s patrons scrambled to reach the exits, but it was clear they’d never be free of the building in time.  Killian reacted on instinct, moving to cover Swan’s body with his own just as a large “boom!” filled the diner as the heart-shaped object exploded.

He waited for the shock, the pain as the explosive blasted him, but it never came.  He looked up to see nothing but a pink, shimmering cloud billowing from the heart, suffusing the diner, and then dissipating.

For a moment he felt an intense burst of love and longing for the woman beside him, and he instinctively looked down into her startled eyes, but then she blinked, and the spell was over.  Killian shook his head and sat up, resuming his own seat on the bench.

For a moment, a shocked silence fell over the room, and then an excited buzz began as Granny’s patrons realized they had indeed survived the...whatever the blazes that had been.

“What the hell was that?!” Emma ground out.

“I don’t know,” Dave said, “but I have a feeling we really need to find out.”

~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~

Later that afternoon

“Cupid?  You’re telling me that old guy was Cupid?”

Emma ground her teeth in frustration, keeping her hands resolutely in her jeans pockets lest she do something stupid like grab her pirate (no!  Not her pirate) and kiss the daylights out of him.

What was wrong with her?

After the heart grenade had gone off in Granny’s this morning, she, her parents and Hook had found Belle in Gold’s shop to pick her brain, see if she had any idea who the mysterious old man was.

Of all the answers Belle could have given them,  “It appears Cupid has come to Storybrooke,” was the last one Emma had expected.

Of course Cupid was real too, because...of course he was.

Belle reached under the counter and retrieved an old book decorated with flowers and hearts.  Flipping through several pages, she turned the tome toward them, pointing to a photograph of a very old man.  

“That’s him,” Snow said, “that’s the man who...did whatever he did to us.”

“Like I said,” Belle said, turning the book back toward her.  “It seems we’ve been visited by Cupid.”

“Who and what is Cupid?” Killian asked from her side.  (Emma ground her teeth again, determinedly ignoring the way his velvety voice made the butterflies in her chest flutter and come to life.  Ignoring the intense affection she suddenly felt for him.  Ignoring the sudden desire to lace her fingers with his.)

“Best I can tell,” Belle said, “he’s a deity of some kind.  He, for lack of a better word, feeds on love.  It’s his source of sustenance.  The more the world around him is depleted of love, the older, frailer he becomes.”

“And what does that have to do with the grenade or whatever that he tossed at us?” Emma asked.

Belle flipped a couple of pages, and then pointed down at a passage of text.  “That’s the interesting part.  You see, February 14, Valentine’s Day is his big day of love harvest every year.  His grenades contain a powerful spell that...encourages love and affection in everyone on which the spell falls.  It reaches its peak in 24 hours, which makes today, February 13 the perfect day to launch it.”

Emma groaned.  “A love spell?  Are you telling me freaking Cupid cast a love spell on all of us?  One that won’t wear off until tomorrow?”

“I’m afraid so,” Belle answered.

Well, that was just...just…

Actually that was kind of reassuring.

From the second that damn grenade had gone off, Emma had been feeling things she couldn’t explain, things she didn’t want to feel, things she’d been working hard at denying ever since Neverland, maybe even before.

As soon as the spell had cleared, she’d looked up into Killian’s intense blue eyes and felt wave after wave of want, of longing, of...of...love crash over her.  She wanted to hold him, kiss him, hold his hand, touch him. 

But that wasn’t the worst part.  Physical attraction she could handle.  Hook was hot, there was no denying that.  Feeling a physical pull to him, that was understandable.  If she didn’t think it would give him the wrong impression, she’d have no problem giving into her urges.  She’d had plenty of one-nighters in the past.

But it wasn’t just physical attraction she felt following the pink, sparkly cloud.  No, it was emotions as well.  She had the sudden need to talk to him alone, to tell him that she’d somehow missed him during the last year, even though she didn’t remember him.  That some part of her had been so intensely happy to see him there at her apartment door that she could hardly contain herself.  That his attempted True Love’s Kiss...she didn’t knee him because he’d assaulted her, she’d kneed him because it felt right, like she was coming home and that totally freaked her out.  She wanted to tell him she was glad he’d found her, glad he was by her side, glad he’d brought her home.

But that, all of that, was crazy.  She didn’t do emotions, didn’t let herself be that vulnerable with another person, someone who could destroy her if she let him.

So all things considered?  Finding out she was feeling all this due to a stupid love potion was a relief.

All she had to do was grin and bear it until the spell wore off tomorrow and then everything would be back to normal.

~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~

Granny’s Bed and Breakfast, February 15, 2 hours before dawn

Emma tossed and turned, her fitful sleep punctuated by dreams.  Disturbing, troubling dreams.

Dreams where she walked with Hook, hand in hand, down by the docks.  Where they talked and kissed.  He smiled at her and she smiled back.  They were both radiantly, blissfully happy.  He led her back to his ship (where was his ship, by the way?  She was pretty sure she hadn’t seen it since they’d come back to Storybrooke), down to his captain’s quarters.

She teased him about his tiny bed, he’d laughed along with her, wiggling his expressive eyebrows in that ridiculous way of his, joking that it wasn’t the size, it was what you did with it.  He’d swaggered to her, invaded her space, threaded his fingers through her hair as he leaned down and captured her lips….

Henry mumbled something in his sleep, and Emma woke with a start.

The dream had been so damn lifelike.  She could still feel Killian’s hand in her hair, feel his lips against hers.  Bringing a hand to her chest, Emma willed her heart rate to slow.  Why was this happening to her?

The last 36 hours had been torture.  Pure, beautiful, intense torture.

Her feelings for Killian had grown and strengthened as the 13th and then the 14th wore on, and though she knew they weren’t real, knew they were caused solely by Cupid’s stupid love spell, more than once she’d almost cracked, almost thrown caution to the wind and bared her heart to the man who was constantly in her thoughts.

Emma had been half sure Hook would use the curse to try to get close to her.  She was afraid he’d declare himself again, try to force her into an awkward conversation about the feelings they held for each other, but she needn’t have worried.  Killian seemed no more eager to explore the effects of the love spell than she was.  He’d left the library soon after Belle explained their predicament, and he’d kept his distance ever since.

He’s giving you space.  He doesn’t want to pressure you, to take advantage.  He’s always a gentleman.

Emma felt a rush of affection yet again, and that alone frustrated her beyond belief.  It was February 15, the day after Valentine’s Day.  Why hadn’t the spell worn off?

Emma groaned, getting up and tossing on a sweatshirt and slippers.  Clearly she wasn’t getting anymore sleep tonight.  Better she go down to the diner and get some cocoa rather than risk waking Henry with her frustration.

“Hey, Ruby,” she said on a yawn, settling on a stool at the counter. “Hope I didn’t startle you.  I know you’re not exactly open yet.”

“Emma!” she said, stepping around the counter and giving Emma a quick hug.  “I’m a wolf, remember?  Heard you tossing and turning half the night.  Something on your mind?”

Emma buried her head in her hands.  “Got any cocoa?”

“Uh oh,” Ruby said, turning to give Emma her full attention.  “Is this a regular cocoa with cinnamon conversation or a cocoa with rum conversation?”

“Rum,” Emma mumbled.  “Definitely rum.”

Ruby tossed her a sympathetic smile, and then turned toward the kitchen.  A few minutes later she returned with a fragrant, steaming mug of cocoa.  Sliding it Emma’s way, Ruby leaned on the counter.  “Okay, spill.  What’s going on?”

“So who was it with you?”  Emma asked.  “You were here the other morning when Cupid dropped his bomb.  Who’d it make you think you love?”

Ruby gave her a strange look.  “Who’d it make me….?  Emma, what are you talking about?”

“You know, the grenade thing,” Emma said.  “I figure it made you think you were in love with the closest person to you.  Something like that?  I was just wondering who it made you love.”

“Emma, you know magic can’t make you fall in love with someone, right?”

Emma shrugged, then took a sip of her cocoa.  “I know it can’t create real love, but I mean, it was a spell, right?  Maybe it makes people think they’re feeling things they aren’t.”

Ruby’s smile was far, far too knowing.  “Hook right?”

“What?”

“After the whole love cloud thing, it was Hook that you fell for.”

Emma groaned, making Ruby smile all the wider.  “Knew it!  Knew the hot pirate had your panties in a twist.”

“Ruby!”

“Sorry,” she said, looking anything but.  “I just call ‘em like I see ‘em, and from what I see of the two of you around here everyday?  Yeah the sparks flying from the two of you could start a forest fire.”

Emma felt her cheeks flush and buried her face in her hands again.  “Ruby, it was just…”

“Don’t even think about saying it was just Cupid’s grenade,” Ruby said, “because, one, I’ve seen the two of you together since long behind that old man dropped his love bomb on everyone.  Two, like I told you, no magic can create love.  And three, you know who I suddenly fell in love with?”

Emma looked up, one eyebrow raised in question.

“No one,” Ruby said.  “Nothing changed for me at all. You know why that was?  It’s because if there is a person for me out there, they’re not here in Storybrooke.”

“But the cloud…”

Ruby shook her head.  “Emma, you and your family aren’t the only ones who talk to Belle and do research, you know.  After Cupid’s little stunt I paid her a visit too.  Wanted to know what was going on as much as you guys did.  I discovered that Cupid feeds on love.  Real love.  True love.  Fake, artificially created love would do nothing for him.  So his spell doesn’t make people feel things they don’t; it just helps people focus on the things they actually feel.”

Emma’s heart pounded.  “So you’re telling me, the hell I’ve been going through for the past day and a half…”

Ruby grinned again.  “Yep.  You, Emma Swan, have the hots for Killian Jones.  Cupid or no Cupid.  Besides, Cupid’s spell wore off several hours ago.  If it was fake, you’d have gone back to normal by now.”

Emma took one last swig of her cocoa and then carefully placed the mug back on its coaster.  “So what am I supposed to do with this now?  How am I supposed to proceed?”

Ruby shrugged, walking to the diner’s door, turning the lock and flipping the sign to open.  “That’s totally up to you, but my two cents?  Go talk to him.  Tell him what you’re thinking and feeling.  That unsettling feeling isn’t going to go away until you do.”

~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~

Killian heard a soft tentative knock on his door and he groaned, swimming reluctantly from the depths of sleep.  He’d been having such a good dream, such a beautiful dream.  He’d walked with Swan by the docks, taken her aboard the Jolly (how he missed his old girl, though he’d barter her away a million times if it meant he could be with Swan).  She’d joked with him about the size of his bunk.   He’d kissed her….

Knock, knock, knock

Killian groaned, noting from the pitch black of his window that it was not even dawn yet.  He hoped whoever was out there had a bloody good reason for disturbing him.

Tossing on a white undershirt and flannel sleep pants, Killian padded to the door and threw it open.

His irritated “What?” died on his lips when he saw his visitor.  Bathed in the soft light of Granny’s hallway, her hair soft against her shoulders, Swan looked like an angel.  Killian resisted the urge to pinch himself, half convinced he was still dreaming.

He swallowed hard.

“So, um, can I come in?” she asked with a self-conscious little smile.

Killian snapped his mouth shut and quickly stepped back, gesturing with his hook for her to enter while he flicked the switch that bathed his room with light.

“Of course, love,”  he said quickly.  “Please, have a seat.”

She looked around and sat on the edge of the second double bed in his room, the one he had not used, and then looked down, picking at a loose thread on the counterpane.

She’s nervous.

Killian’s curiosity was piqued.  Why had she come to him at this time of the morning?  What could have her so rattled?

“So,” he said finally, when it was clear she wasn’t going to speak first, “what brings you to my room, love?”

“It’s just…”  She started, before abruptly standing and turning toward the door.  “Ugh, this was a mistake.  I’m sorry; I shouldn’t have disturbed you.”

He rose quickly, stepping between her and the door.  “Please, Swan.  Something’s obviously on your mind.  Share your burden with me?”

She took a deep breath, and then nodded.

“It’s the whole Cupid love spell thing,” she said finally.

Killian suddenly looked aside, hand absentmindedly coming up to scratch behind his ear.  “Love, you needn’t say anything.  I’ve no wish to pressure you, no wish to hear a declaration bourne  artificially out of a spell…”

“That’s just it,” she said, stepping into his space, placing her hands on his arms.  “I...I...it didn’t go away.  The spell wore off yesterday, right?  I’m still feeling everything I was feeling then.”

He looked at her quickly, eyes widened, hope blooming within him in spite of himself.  “What are you saying, love?”

“I’m saying...look, I don’t know what I’m saying,” she said, taking his hand and pulling him until they were seated, facing each other on his bed.  “But there’s, there’s something there between us.  I’m really glad it was you that found Henry and me in New York.  I’m glad you came back to Storybrooke with me.  I, I feel better with you beside me.  I’m grateful that you’re there to listen when, you know, things get to be too much.  I can’t guarantee I won’t get scared again, and I can’t guarantee I won’t, I don’t know, build walls again, but I just wanted to let you know, at least once, that if we ever just have a peaceful moment in this town...maybe I’d be willing to see where things could go.”

His heart turned over, and he reached up to cup her cheek, couldn’t help himself.  Smiling gently, he leaned down and kissed her softly, almost reverently.  “Swan,” he breathed on a sigh.  “You’ve no need to thank me.  By your side is where I’ll always wish to be.”

“Good,”  she said softly before leaning in to return his kiss with interest.

~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~

He stopped outside Granny��s Bed and Breakfast and looked up at the single illumined window.  Breathing deeply, he smiled to himself.  His harvest was complete, and what a harvest it had been!

Passing the same shop he’d passed on his way into town he took a look at his reflection.  He stood tall and strong, skin smooth and youthful, hair sandy and neatly combed.  He was young and handsome once more.

He started walking toward the edge of town but then stopped, thinking better of it.  It was true what they said about this town; it was overflowing with love.  Perhaps he’d stick around for a while.

[odditycircus-2002]

Mortal Kombat Masterlist (Updated)

Warning: I wrote a lot with Shang Tsung and Baraka. Also heavily features Medusa!Reader.

Old Era:

Medusa!Reader x Shang Tsung I

Medusa!Reader x Shang Tsung II

Medusa!Reader x Shang Tsung Aftermath

Shang Tsung's Death

Medusa!Reader Intro Walk, Friendship, Fatalities, etc

Medusa!Reader Intros I

Medusa!Reader Intros II

Revenant Reader x Shang Tsung

Some NSFW Headcannon with Shang Tsung with Medusa!Reader

Snake in the Garden

Saudade

New Era:

The Masked Medicine Woman

Medusa!Reader Story Mode I

Medusa!Reader Story Mode II

Medusa!Reader Story Mode III

Medusa!Reader Story Mode IV

Medusa!Reader Story Mode V

Medusa!Reader Story Mode VI

Medusa!Reader Story Mode VII

Medusa!Reader! Story Mode VIII

Medusa!Reader Story Mode IX

Medusa!Reader Story Mode X

Medusa!Reader Story Mode XI

Medusa!Reader Story Mode XII

Medusa!Reader Story Mode Ending

Medusa!Reader and Syzoth Platonic Headcannons

Shedding Season (Featuring Platonic Syzoth)

Holiday Fun🎄

Thanksgiving🦃

Peeping Tom 😳😳😳

Medusa!Reader Loves Chocolate

What If feat.Medusa!Reader I

What If feat.Medusa!Reader II

What If Feat. Medusa!Reader III

Why Baraka?

Some NSFW H/Cs between Medusa!Reader and Baraka

When Baraka saw You grow Wings

ANGST WITH BARAKA AND MEDUSA!READER

Medusa!Reader Eating

MK1 Intros I

Mk1 Intros II

MK1 Intros III

MK1 Intros IV

You're Beautiful (Mk1 Shang Tsung x Medusa!Reader)

Requests (Currently Closed)

(Includes both the Old Era and New Era)

🥵- Nsfw

Pet Store

Ashrah

Aesthete

Baraka

One Night (Baraka x Medusa!Reader)

Erron Black

Morrigan Reader

Fujin

"The Voice" Fujin x Reader

Kabal

Morrigan Reader

Kenshi Takahashi

Morrigan Reader

Kitana

MK1 Kitana x Female Reader

Scorpion (Hanzo Hasashi)

Mk11 Scorpion with shy s/o

Quan-Chi's Daughter Reader X Scorpion Nsfw and Sfw🥵

Widow (Quan-chi's Daughter Reader x Scorpion)

Quan-chi's Daughter x Scorpion starting a family

King and Queen

Shang Tsung

Valentine's Day with Shang Tsung💕💕💕🥵

NSFW Shang Tsung HCs🥵

Perfect Gentleman

Syzoth

Aesthete

Quan-Chi

A Terrifying Love

Eternally Loyal

Da Rules:

The characters I'm willing to write for are the men AND women of Mortal Kombat. This includes from MK9 to MK1 as that's what I am most familiar with.

I'm writing fics and h/cs, you'll have to be specific about what you want otherwise I'm choosing. No refunds!

I'm willing to write nsfw h/cs and fics.

Please be specific of what character and scenario you want, more details the better. Also the amount of characters you can request at a time is FIVE.

I will NOT, I repeat, NOT write anything that makes me uncomfortable such as sexual assault, waterworks, pedophilia, and obvious stuff like that.

Also I’m sticking with “X reader” content cause I know that best!

[star-my]

Ateez Fic Recs ☆ Tumblr

These are all available on tumblr as of April 2024. Some are likely crossposted on ao3 as well.

~Ao3 RECS HERE~

Almost all are complete works, those with “+” after WC are incomplete.

Most of these are Mature or Explicit (usually because of smut) ~ mdni ~ italicized titles rated G or T ~ Please read responsibly

If any authors tagged here wish to be removed/untagged, please lmk! | Shoutout to @thecarnivaloflies for creating their own rec list that I gathered some of these from!

OT8/Multi

☆ Arranged Marriage with Prince!Ateez scenarios by @nateezfics | Prince AU, Arranged Marriage AU | 6k

☆ Black Ocean series by @bvidzsoo | Pirate AU, Siren AU, Royalty AU | 14-40k each

☆ Hooked by @songmingisthighs | SMAU Uni AU, Fake Dating AU |

☆ boyfriend!ateez discovering you write smut scenarios by @eightmakesonebraincell | SMAU |

☆ Rating BFF!Ateez as Valentine's dates by @bluehwale | SMAU |

☆ Blue Bird by @seonghwaddict | Mafia AU | CS + JWY | 7k

☆ one more rep by @cheollipop | PT AU, Model AU | CS + JWY | 7k

☆ time of love by @desayunho | SMAU Neighbours AU | CS + JWY |

☆ Arriba by @teeskz | Uni AU | KHJ + JYH + CS + SMG + JWY | 13k

☆ Splish Splash by @atozfic | Uni AU, Athlete AU | PSH + JYH + CS + JWY | 20k

☆ Light it Up! by @cybrsan | Hala AU, Dystopian AU | KHJ + PSH | 4k

☆ Triple Threat by @huihuiheart | CS + JWY + CJH | 6k

Kim Hongjoong

☆ Wanbelyn by @songmingisthighs | SMAU, Doctor AU, Single Parent AU, Nanny AU |

☆ Marigold by @yoongiseesawmp3 | F2L Uni AU | 13k

☆ guns and roses by @baekhvuns | E2L Mafia AU | 6k

Park Seonghwa

☆ mr & mrs park by @baekhvns | E2L Mafia AU, Single Parent AU, Nanny AU | 50k

☆ bodyguard by @baekhvns | S2F2L Mafia AU, Bodyguard AU | 38k

☆ just friends by @baekhvuns | R2L Model AU | 37k

☆ paradigm + paradigm, pt 2 by @yoongiseesawmp3 | F2FWB2L Coworkers AU, Bar AU | 12k

☆ facade by @gamerwoo | S2L Arranged Marriage AU, Royalty AU, Assassin AU | 26k

Jeong Yunho

☆ your hand by @smileysuh | Coworkers AU, Tattoo Artist AU | 7k

Kang Yeosang

☆ badboy!yeosang by @ateezmakemeweep | High School AU, Bad Boy AU | 18k

☆ entropy by @in-san-ity | S2F2L Mafia AU, Single Parent AU | 21k

☆ crash landed on you by @atozfic | S2E2F2L Fake Dating AU, Chaebol AU | 20k

☆ Graveyard Dares and Bitemarks by @harmonie-writes | F2L Vampire AU | 5k

☆ Sweeter than Candy by @hwalyn | E2L SMAU (Ongoing), Uni AU |

Choi San

☆ lowkey by @arafilez | FWB2L | 3k

☆ the law of attraction by @yuyusuyu | F2L Uni AU | 3k

☆ perfidy by @in-san-ity | S2F2L Uni AU, Mafia AU | 21k

☆ Will you join me? by @kyun-toast | E2L/R2L Mafia AU, Assassin AU | 3k

☆ after all, you're my wife by @astayinwonderland | Arranged Marriage AU, Mafia AU | 3k

☆ texts with ateez (+ crush san) by @baekhvuns | SMAU

☆ the scentist by @k-hotchoisan | Neighbours AU | 5k

☆ it's you series by @minisugakoobies | BFB AU, Roommates AU, Secret Relationship AU | 9k+

☆ The Art of Climbing the Corporate Ladder series by @ennysbookstore | S2F2L Coworkers AU, Office AU | 29k

☆ Obvious + Claiming by @huihuiheart | Established Relationship AU, Hybrid/Omegaverse AU | 4k

Song Mingi

☆ preying on you tonight by @bvidzsoo | E2L Werewolf AU, Witch AU, Uni AU | 29k

☆ Genesis by @songmingisthighs | S2F2L SMAU, CEO AU |

Jung Wooyoung

☆ upstairs neighbour wooyo series by @mangiverse | SMAU R2F2L Neighbours AU |

☆ tits out by @captain-joongz | BFF2L Uni AU | 7k

☆ body talk series by @jungkxook | BFF2L Uni AU | 28k+

☆ All 'Cause of a Neck Kiss by @cocobeanncteez | F2L | 3k

☆ Two Can Play by @huihuiheart | Werewolf AU | 2k

Choi Jongho

☆ zemblanity by @in-san-ity | S2F2L Mafia AU, Bodyguard AU | 24k

[kmomof4]

That is all

Rum and Wagers

Roses are red Violets are blue Rum is much cheaper Than dinner for two Especially when your best friend co-owns a bar and gives it you for nothing. Single on Valentine’s Day, Emma goes to bartender and best friend, Killian, for alcohol and advice on how not to be single for next Valentine’s Day.

3050 words of Valentine's Day fluff.

Read on Ao3

“I hate Valentine’s Day! It’s nothing but a huge corporate scam!”

Emma huffed as she reached the bar. She grabbed the cheap, cardboard, heart-shaped beer mats and flung them across the room onto a vacant table, as far away from her as she could possibly get them. She dropped onto a barstool, rested her elbow on the bar and leaned her face against her fist.

Killian stood behind the bar, tea towel in hand, drying off recently washed glasses. He raised an eyebrow, watching her in amusement, and failed to hold back a chuckle.

“You were all over Valentine’s Day last year,” he recalled. “In fact, I distinctly remember being the one to watch over your lad whilst you want off to some swanky five-star hotel with the twat-that-shall-not-be-named.”

“Because you were and still are depressingly single and now I’m in the same damn boat,” Emma groaned. “I can’t believe I’m single on Valentine’s Day.”

“Well, you know what they say, love. Roses are red, violets are blue-”

“Oh, no.”

“Rum is much cheaper than dinner for two,” he finished with a grin, brandishing a brand-new, untouched bottle of rum from beneath the bar. “Especially when your best friend co-owns a bar and gives it you for nothing.”

He retrieved two rum glasses and set them on the bar, promptly uncapping the bottle and pouring the liquid into both glasses. Emma chuckles as he went overboard on the measures. He always knew when she was looking to get drunk.

He set the bottle down and reached out for one of the glasses.

She looked at him curiously, “Drinking on the job?”

He lifted his glass and gestured around the empty bar with it, “I realise you’re caught up in your moping, Swan, but it’s utterly dead in here. The Rabbit Hole isn’t exactly the hotspot for a romantic Valentine’s Day date.”

Emma sighed as she picked up her glass, “Are you saying we’re the only two single people in Storybrooke?”

“Well, the only two sociable single people at any least,” Killian remarked. “So, cheers to that.”

They clinked their glasses together then simultaneously necked the entirety of their contents, placing the empty glasses back down on the bar with a light, synchronised thud.

“Hey, if it makes you feel any better, Neal is just as single as you are,” Killian pointed out.

“So much for not naming him,” Emma muttered. “And I don’t know about that. I’ve heard the rumours about him cosying up to Tamara.”

“Ah, you’ve caught that then?”

Killian picked up the rum bottle again, pouring out more alcohol.

“I mean, it’s fast, right? What’s it been, a month? Is it even a month? That doesn’t add up, does it?” Emma questioned.

Killian opted not to answer, instead taking one good, long swig of his rum.

“This is the part where you tell me he wouldn’t have cheated on me,” Emma prompted.

“I’m afraid I couldn’t tell you that, Swan,” Killian replied. “Unfortunately, I believe the prick is more than capable of disrespecting you like that.”

Emma happily took the second drink waiting for her.

“You deserve better than Cassidy, love,” Killian told her. “I hope you realise that.”

“And you tried to tell me that all along,” Emma spoke with a long, regretful sigh. “Why the hell didn’t I listen to you?”

“I’m both your bartender and your best friend,” Killian pointed out. “I exist to listen to all your problems and give you astonishingly good advice that you’ll inevitably ignore.”

“Maybe it’s time we change that,” Emma proposed. “So how do I avoid being single by next Valentine’s Day?”

Killian paused, brow furrowing as he considered, and then shook his head, “Maybe it’s best we don’t mess with the trusted, old-age system of you electing to ignore my advice?”

“Oh, come on! Don’t hold out on me now! Not when I’m finally ready to listen to you,” she encouraged.

She finished her drink and promptly took matters into her own hands, leaning over the bar to pick up the bottle of rum and pour out her latest drink.

He hastily grabbed the bottle out of her hands, stopping her from pouring any further. The contents of her glass threatened to spill over the brim, forcing her to lean forwards and sip some from it before she was able to lift it without spilling any. Killian placed the bottle to the back of the bar, out of her reach but still well within his.

His own glass would need topping up soon enough.

“You do realise, Swan, that you’re asking dating advice from a guy who is, and I’ll quote, ‘pathetically unacquainted with the dating world of the twenty-first century’?” he challenged, his arms folded across his chest, a bemused smirk meeting his gleaming blue eyes.

Emma took a swig of her drink and frowned, “Someone said that about you? I mean, they’re not exactly wrong; I don’t think you have dated anyone since high school and we graduated in oh-one. Of course, I know you had that weird friends-with-benefits kind of set-up with Tink in college but that hardly counts as dating. Anyway, I digress… who, who said that about you?”

“You did.”

“I did?”

“Aye.”

“When?”

“Last night.”

“Ooohhh,” Emma drew out upon vaguely recalling the conversation. “In my defense, I was very drunk last night.”

“Mmm,” Killian hummed as he finished his drink and began topping it up. “It appears tonight is headed in a similar direction.”

“What else is there to do when you’re single on Valentine’s Day? Which reminds me, you’re holding out on me,” Emma downed a good chunk of her drink and pointed at him with her glass. “This astonishingly good advice you spoke of earlier, put your money where your mouth is and hit me with it.”

“On this, I’m none the wiser, else I wouldn’t be single myself, would I?” he reasoned with her.

He proceeded to take a big gulp of his drink, lowered it from his lips, then promptly decided to take another large swig.

“Well, you’re no help! I’ll have to work it out for myself, won’t I? The way I see it, I’ve got a few options,” Emma mused. “So, single men of Storybrooke… there’s Gold-”

Killian broke into a hard burst of laughter which almost caused him to choke on his drink, “Your ex’s father? You’ve gotta be bloody joking!”

“If you let me finish, I was about to rule him out,” Emma returned. “How desperate do you think I am?”

“Not desperate at all,” Killian responded immediately, “which is exactly why your list of single men in Storybrooke goes as follows; Leroy’s not your type, Sidney’s ruled out after you punched him in the jaw, Whale’s… well, Whale, Graham – if I recall correctly – was a fling way back when and nothing else, and August was friend-zoned after the first drink, the poor sod.”

“And your list of single women in Storybrooke goes; Belle who punched you in the jaw-”

“That was a huge misunderstanding, and you know it, Swan!”

“Zelena who, well, good luck to you if you go down that road, and Lily who can’t hold a serious relationship to save her life,” Emma recounted. “So, what are we to do, Killian? We can’t be doomed to be single forever.”

He hastily downed the contents of his glass and poured himself a healthy refill, even topping her glass up despite it not even being half-empty. He took another big gulp of his rum then set it down. He scratched the back of his neck, and his jaw twitched as he finally looked her way again.

She stared at him expectantly and, when he remained silent, prompted, “What?”

“What?” he returned.

“What aren’t you telling me?”

He downed his refill of rum then dared to innocently question, “What?”

“You’ve just shipped a boat load of liquid courage,” she pointed out, “and you’ve got that look on your face.”

“What look? I don’t have a look.”

“You do have a look! Your eyes are all narrowed, you’re frowning, your jaw keeps twitching and you’re scratching your neck like a cat with fleas,” she challenged him. “That’s your ‘I’ve got something to say but it’ll make things worse’ look.”

Killian gave up on the glasses, gulping down the rum straight from the bottle. He set the near-empty bottle on top of the bar. Between them, they’d made light work of its contents.

He eventually spoke, “In all our discussions about your options in the last month, there’s one eligible guy in Storybrooke that you’ve yet to consider.”

“Really?” Emma sounded unconvinced. “It’s a small town. Single guys around here are hard to come by. I thought we had them all covered. Sidney, Leroy, Whale, Graham, August… who am I missing?”

The dregs at the bottom of the rum bottle were coaxed down Killian’s throat.

“Me.”

The empty bottle hit the bar with a resounding thud.

Emma laughed.

“I’m entirely serious, Swan.”

Emma composed herself, lifted her head up and everything had changed. She saw Killian in a whole new light, not as her best friend or her bartender but as a man who had always looked at her as if she were his whole world; the very man who she had called – day and night – whenever she and Neal had argued, the man who would drop everything to be by her side, the man who had always known whether she needed alcohol, an ear to talk off, a shoulder to cry on, or a punching bag, and provided it without ever being asked.

The words started to pour out of Killian’s mouth, “I can’t keep pretending that there’s not a day that goes by that I don’t think of you, that you don’t brighten my day every time you walk into this mere tavern. I can’t keep pretending like it didn’t crush my heart to see you with Neal, that I didn’t feel a glimpse of hope every time you two argued, that it didn’t kill me every time you decided to reconcile with that prat.”

“Killian.”

“The bloody fool doesn’t even realise what he’s given up,” Killian continued. “You’re amazing; you’re smart and you’re strong and so breathtakingly beautiful. You’re a shining light in a dark world-”

“Killian.”

“-like a lighthouse guiding me safely home to shore. And I could have stood here and given you the advice you were looking for, told you to give online dating a go, but I couldn’t run the risk of standing here, forced to watch once more as an unworthy man treats you like dirt on the bottom of his shoe when you deserve to be treated like a princess-”

“Killian.”

“-and whilst I treasure our friendship deeply – it’s that which has kept me holding my tongue so bloody long – I know grander treasure lies beneath the surface of what we share already, if only we’re both willing to fight for it. Because I would, Emma, I would fight for-”

“Killian!” Emma snapped, finally succeeding in cutting him off.

Or, at the very least, she had thrown him from his rambling thoughts for he gulped at her pointed tone and promptly backtracked, “I’m sorry, Emma, forget I said anything. I – rum! The bloody thing is like a tru-”

“Fucking hell, Jones, kiss me already!”

He didn’t need telling twice; he leapt impressively over the bar and before Emma could even marvel at that feat, his lips crashed against hers and her thoughts melted away; the rest of the world and her worries with them. His warm, gentle hands rushed all over her body, desperately exploring, as her hands gripped tightly to his hair, keeping him close, entangling her fingers in his dark locks. The rum on his breath harmonised with hers and her heart leapt in her chest, the little hairs on the back of her neck standing on end, for they clung to each other – lips, hands, fingers, legs – as if fighting for their lives. Her mind was convinced she’d been reborn, experiencing her first kiss all over again for the kiss is unparalleled to anything she’d ever experienced before, as if she’d been doing it wrong.

She chased after his lips when he moved back, initiating a series of small, yearning, fast kisses – his lips remaining attentive, coming and going like waves against a ship – neither wanting the moment to end, both gasping for oxygen and made breathless by the desperate passion of the initial kiss. She couldn’t let him go, clutching onto his neck for dear life. She wrapped her legs tightly around his waist, claiming him as hers, and chuckled teasingly against his lips.

“I want you,” she murmured, her lips dancing and brushing against his as she did so.

His voice was steeped in desire, low and impossibly enticing, “You have no idea how long I’ve waited to hear you say those words.”

She smiled against his lips, “Good things come to those who wait.”

“I’m done waiting.”

“Good.”

Despite his words, he pulled his head back and she leaned after him.

“Wait,” he spoke gravely.

“You’re a fucking tease, Jones,” she complained.

“I don’t want a one-time fling.”

“I don’t want a one-time fling,” she returned.

“I’m done with flings.”

“I never started.”

“Uhh…”

“Other than Graham.”

“I want this, beyond tonight.”

“Me too.”

“Good.”

He took a few steps forward and she clung to him in the way a crying child clings to its mother, fully prepared to delve into a tantrum should someone so wickedly take him from her. He placed her down gently, perched on the edge of the pool table. He was too far away, half a step away, and she pulled him in by his jacket, smothering herself in him.

He kissed her again and showed off, proving men can be capable of multi-tasking by ripping her shirt from her body simultaneously, the buttons bouncing and rolling along the floor, forgotten instantly. He pulled back from her, and she reached out urgently for him, too far away, as he hastily removed his shirt from his body.

He pounced on her before his shirt could hit the floor, his presence guiding her down onto the pool table, sending the neatly arranged balls spawling across the table. He craved her as much as she craved him, more so perhaps. Where the fog of Neal and past lovers had finally lifted, allowing Emma to see him clearly for the first time, Killian had been biding his time, awaiting the very moment for most of his life. Her enticing figure had featured in many a dream since their high school days and he wasn’t fully convinced he wasn’t dreaming. It wouldn’t have been the first time he’d been duped by such cruel, lifelike dreams, fast asleep on the bar, empty bottles of merchandise surrounding him. If it were a dream, he hoped no one woke him; if it truly were a bloody miracle, he aimed to impress.

He danced a series of kisses down her neck, burrowing his nose against her skin, soaking in the sweet, combined scent of rum, cinnamon, and the raspberry air freshener she insisted on keeping in her old car. His onslaught of kisses continued lower, against her shoulder, down her collarbone and to the top of her chest. His tongue was keen to join the party, gliding over the top of her right breast as his fingers worked at the clasp of the bra strap on her back, her own hands working at his belt, the brushing of her arm against his crotch only fuelling his longing for her.

“Bloody hell.”

A new voice broke their moment.

They froze. Emma’s bra dropped. Killian’s belt released, his pants dropping to unveil white boxers beneath; ones which left very little to Emma’s imagination.

Or Liam and Elsa’s.

The couple stood at the bar, staring in shock at the sight before them. Killian raced to hitch his pants up and chucked his previously abandoned shirt at Emma, aiding her urgent attempt to cover up.

“Now I’m glad the pair of you have gotten your shit together and stopped staring longingly at each other’s backs but for fuck’s sake, Killian, not on my bloody pool table!” Liam sounded simultaneously pleased and irate.

“Amazing timing as always, Liam,” Killian muttered and helped Emma from the pool table. “Come on, love, I have a private room above.”

Killian got Emma as far as the bottom of the stairs before Liam called out after them, “Oh, do me a favour and don’t go public with this ‘til March or else I’ll have to fork over a hundred dollars to Will; sneaky bastard claimed February right from under me!”

“You and Will wagered on this?” Killian remarked in surprise, all the while pulling Emma further up the stairs.

“Mate, the whole bloody town is in on this thing,” Liam returned. “In fact, it’s her best mate, Mary Margaret, who’ll be quids in should you hold off ‘til Match.”

“She could do with the money,” Emma mused as they reached the top of the stairs. “For the wedding.”

“And I could do with you, in my bed, right now,” Killian growled out impatiently.

“Your wish is my command.”

It was a wish she not only granted that night, but regularly in the nights which followed until his bed became their bed and by the next Valentine’s Day neither one of them was desperately single, instead madly in love, celebrating not only Valentine’s Day but the anniversary of the day they became more than friends. As far as the whole town were aware, it was nothing more than Valentine’s Day for March the third had been the day Will had ‘walked in’ on their ‘first kiss’ and promptly cursed them out for not ‘seeing the bloody obvious’ three days earlier.

Mary Margaret gained an extra one-thousand-one-hundred dollars to put towards her fairytale wedding.

Emma and Killian never got an explanation for why twelve people were so willing to place a hundred dollars on a bet involving the two of them; they did both agree never to speak of the tampered wager but conceded that a bottle of rum could well uncover the truth hidden between them…

----

Tag List (taken from the CSMM list - let me know if you want adding/taking off).

@teamhook @laianely @booksteaandtoomuchtv @exhaustedpirate @anmylica @hollyethecurious @kmomof4 @winterbaby89 @undercaffinatednightmare @resident-of-storybrooke @tiganasummertree @stahlop @lfh1226-linda @darkshadow7 @fleurdepetite @captainswan-kellie @motherkatereloyshipper @soniccat @jrob64 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @jonesfandomfanatic @myfearless-love

[gyupremacy]

Kiss & Make Up | cs.

↳ Pairing: choi san x fem!reader

↳ Genre: smut, fluff, angst, established relationship

↳ Au(s): slice of life

↳ Rating: 18+

↳ Word Count: 2.1k

↳ Warning(s): cursing, mentions of past cheating (not san), argument, mention of parental divorce, unprotected sex, oral (f. receiving), missionary, t*tjob, dirty talk, fondling

↳ Summary: Your fiancé San hasn't been as active in the preparations for your upcoming wedding, and it's starting to get to you. Tensions rise after an argument about the subject.

↳ a/n: Hi, everyone! April's been a pretty busy month for me, with preparing for finals and personal conflicts, but I'm back with another fic. Thanks to @hwasrie for beta-ing and @snoozeagustd for creating the banner!

This is my submission for k-vanity’s "Idols Over Flowers" event.

Main flowers: roses (romance), violets (angst), marigold (hurt comfort), fresia (slice of life)

Supporting flowers: amaranthus (marriage & co)

Greenery: myrtle (soul mates)

Ribbons: band of satin (weddings)

╔══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╗

"What do you think of this, baby?" you said, turning the bridal magazine around to show your fiancé.

"I think it looks beautiful! I like the style," San responded, barely glancing at the photo.

He was more focused on you, more importantly, how you were straddling his waist in the bed as you frantically flipped through pages.

"Come on! You already said that about that last one I showed you," you huffed in frustration.

"Well, I'm sorry, Y/N. I just don't see why you're dead set on finding a dress so soon," San remarked.

He had a point, whether you admitted it or not. He proposed to you on Valentine's Day, and you still hadn't made a decision on the date you'd tie the knot.

"It's not just about finding a dress. It's about finding the dress," you began.

"Many girls dream about their wedding day, and I'm one of them."

You sighed dreamily, looking at a ballgown style that caught your interest. Seeing the expensive price, you quickly moved onto the next page.

"Well… if it means anything, I think you would look really sexy in a mermaid gown," San chuckled.

"One that accentuates your body really nicely."

His voice went down to a whisper, and he soon sat up in the bed. Soft kisses were placed from your shoulder to your neck.

"Sannie… don't start," you warned.

"What? I can't imagine what my gorgeous bride will look like on our wedding day?" His hands trailed down your hips, then down your legs.

"As much as I would like to spend the resting of the morning making sweet music with you, I need to take a shower," you laughed, getting up to go to the bathroom.

"Maybe I could j-" San began before you stopped him mid sentence.

"Don’t even think about it, Choi."

After the long shower, you got dressed in a crop top and leggings since you were about to do your daily yoga routine.

San was in the kitchen making breakfast for the both of you (an omelet for him and a pastry for you). He topped it all off with some fresh fruit on your plate and green tea.

"My baby is back from the shower!" San beamed.

"And my baby made me breakfast," You gave him a kiss before grabbing the plate off the counter.

He sat beside you and began to feed you the pieces of fruit from your plate. You made it a point to purposely suck on his finger after you finished one bite.

"Mmm… so delicious," you moaned out.

"You're playing with fire, princess," San whispered.

"Let's hope you don't get burned then," you teased, going to take a bite out of your pastry.

The rest of the time was spent completely devouring the meal your fiancé prepared, but you were still thinking about the conversation earlier.

You and San had arguments like any other couple, though you didn't want to call what happened earlier with the dress an "argument", but it did bother you that a proper date for the nuptials wasn't set.

"San? About the dress…" you were about to tell him that it was fine that he wasn't as enthusiastic about it as you were, but was stopped by him speaking.

"Really, Y/N? We're still on about that damn dress?" San laughed, wanting not to focus on it.

"What? No, I was going to say that it was cool that you didn't see it as much of a priority right now," you said.

"Almost like you don't see the wedding being a priority."

You muttered that last part, not thinking he would hear it. You didn't actually mean this, but you were so frustrated at his seemingly lack of commitment towards preparations that you needed to get it out.

"Excuse me?" San said, dropping his fork on the counter.

"Did you just say that I don't think this wedding is a priority?"

"It certainly feels like it. Anytime I bring up wedding stuff, you clam up and avoid the conversation," you remarked, folding your arms.

"Because I thought it would be a compromise. It's like you've already made decisions on the wedding and just want me to go along with them," San gets up from the stool and walks towards the door.

"Where are you going?" you said, going towards him.

"I'm going to hang out with the boys," he responded nonchalantly.

"Of course you are," you muttered.

San didn't even waste his breath, just shutting the door on his way out. You sighed, going back to clean the dishes that were left.

Once finished, you got your yoga mat from the side of the couch and rolled it onto the floor. Hoping to clear your mind for a few hours, you turned your meditation music on, wanting to block out the rest of the world.

Hours had passed, and you had slipped out of your workout attire into something more comfortable. You grabbed your robe from the bathroom closet and put it on, tying the cloth belt around your waist.

San was scrolling through his phone on the bed. He had come home from his afternoon with the guys an hour ago, not speaking a word to you.

The tension was eating you up inside, so you walked towards the bed and made your way next to him.

"Hey," you greeted nervously.

"Hi," San said, turning to the side to look at you.

"So… um… I'm sorry about what I said earlier," you started.

"I shouldn't have said you didn't see the wedding as a priority. I just… want everything to be perfect."

You started fiddling with your fingers and took a deep breath before continuing on.

"My parents… didn't have the happiest of marriages. The loud arguments, the cheating, having to witness all of that was just - " your voice began to crack, and that's when San sat up from the bed and brought you into an embrace.

"It's okay, baby," he soothed.

"My mom deserved a better partner, a better relationship as a whole, and I try to compensate for that with our relationship," you finished.

"I know how much this wedding means to you, but you're going to burn yourself out if you keep pushing yourself to such high standards," San explained.

"You're an amazing woman, and you've been through so much to be able to become the woman I chose to spend the rest of my life with."

"San, I appreciate your words, but sometimes I feel like I can become too much for you. Almost as if I have to try and prove how much I love you to keep you satisfied," you revealed.

"Y/N… never in the entirety of our relationship have I not been satisfied or happy," he assured.

"You've made me a better man, and making a relationship work is a joint effort."

"Your feelings are valid, but if you ever feel that there is some form of miscommunication, you can always come to me," San said, bringing your hands in his and pressing a kiss on them.

"I love you, Y/N. I shouldn't have spoken to you like that earlier," San apologized.

"I have too much respect for you and our relationship to let it go because of our feelings at that moment."

You began to cry tears of happiness, feeling all the love and adoration the man in front of you had for yourself. He brought his thumb up to wipe them away.

"Perfect is boring, my love. Just being with you is enough," San smiled lovingly, showing his signature dimples.

"Choi San, you're my everything," you responded, bringing your hands up to hold his face.

You both lean in close and kiss each other with such palpable affection. San brought his hands down to your waist, pressing his hands firmly against your hips.

"I can't help myself whenever I'm around you, Y/N," San whispered.

"You're so gorgeous, and I can't wait until you're mine forever."

Butterflies formed in your stomach, both from his words and the way he was kissing down your neck. His hands wandered your body some more, grabbing your butt and carefully placing you against the pillows.

San repositioned himself, straddling your body for a moment before becoming eye level with the belt on your robe.

"What is my princess hiding underneath here, huh?" San teased.

San bit his lip, looking at your bashful demeanor, making it his mission to find out what was underneath. He untied the robe hastily, soon looking at the purple lace lingerie on your body.

"Surprise," you whispered out, watching his eyes widen before an all too familiar grin appeared.

"Oh, baby… you don't know what you've gotten yourself into," San said, grazing his hand over your underwear.

His thumb rubbed your sweet spot, causing you to let out soft whimpers until he slid the lace garment to the side. San kissed your slit before diving his tongue inside.

"Fuck! Sannie, that feels so good!" You moaned.

San giggled as a response, continuing to lap you up like his life depended on it. He hummed against your lips, licking your juices and keeping his hands firm on your thigh.

You ran your fingers through his hair and leaned your head back in pleasure.

"I must be doing an amazing job if you're making those sounds, baby," San smiled, taking in your blissed out appearance.

"Y-You could s-say that," you managed to moan out as he continued working wonders with his tongue.

San brought his lips to your bundle of nerves, taking his time to suck it and watch you unravel for him.

"You're about to come, baby? Let it out all for me," San said softly.

"Oh shit! I'm so close!" You screamed out before your orgasm surged through your entire body, causing you to shake underneath your fiancé.

As you came down from your daze, San tapped your shoulder for you to switch positions with him so that you were the one on top this time.

"As much as I would love for you to return the favor, Y/N, I just want to be inside of you," San moaned, gesturing to the noticeable bulge in his sweatpants.

You obliged, pulling down his sweatpants and underwear. His member sprung up and pressed a kiss to the tip before sliding your underwear down.

You guided your slit over his and slid down on him, tilting your head back once you feel him inside of you. San grabbed hold of your hips, watching as you bounced on top of him.

"Yes! Right there!" You moaned.

"Feels so good, baby! Ride it out!" San grunted, letting you control the pace.

He placed his hands behind you, unhooking your bra, letting it fall to the floor.

"I can never get tired of these," San said, fondling your chest.

"Oh yeah? Then how about this?" You stopped grinding on him and moved to jerk his member.

You licked up and down his shaft, taking the tip into your mouth and savoring all of your juices. San thought he'd burst at the sight, but that's when you caught him by surprise.

Taking a hold of his member, you slid it in between your chest and squeezed them snugly together. Your fiancé's eyes began to roll back in pleasure.

"Mmm… they're so soft and pretty. Just like that!" San groaned.

He was leaking from the tip, and you knew he was about to come, so you increased the speed of strokes, paired with the stimulation from your cleavage.

"Y/N, I'm about to come!" San gasped out until the clear liquid oozed out, landing on your chest.

You made a show of sticking your tongue out and lapping up whatever you could reach.

"Did you like that, baby?" You smiled, moving to sit up on your knees.

"I think you know the answer to that," San said, running his fingers through his hair and catching his breath.

You got up and grabbed a washcloth to wipe yourself off as he put the rest of his clothes on. When you returned to the bed, San snuggled up with you and kissed your forehead.

"September 16th." He said abruptly.

"Huh?" You asked.

"That's the date I want to make you mine," he reached out to caress your cheek.

Your eyes lit up with excitement as you couldn't stop picturing what the day would look like.

"Guess I'll have to continue on with finding the dress," you laughed.

"And the flowers, the venue, the cake, the time…" San said, counting his fingers to prove his point.

"You'll be helping me every step of the way, San," you kissed him, getting up once more to go into the shower.

You throw a glance back at San, giggling at his confused expression.

"What?" San questioned.

"Well, aren't you coming in?"

╚══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╝

© gyupremacy, 2023. All rights reserved. 

[naffeclipse]

Naff.. we'll get cute and fluffy chapters/drabbles after the reveal right? Domestic times and cozy times with the boys and little hunter, right? ..We're getting those? ...Right?

After the valentine special I've felt like I'm.. missing something.. like there's a hole in my soul that needs to be filled..

(all of this is meant as a joke but also not really at all fhdjdhfjd XD)

Hehehe, oh yeah! It will be in the main fic, and once it's finished, I'm thinking of doing something like Bonus Episodes for drabbles and other little moments in CS ♥

[yanania]

IF ANY OF YALL KNOW THE TITLE OF TJE FIC WHWRE BULLY!EREN GAVE VALENTINE GIFTS TO READER THEN FUCKING HER IN A CLASSROOM WHILE MIKASA WATCHES THEM BEHIND THE DOOR AND MIKASA SAW RHE GIFTS THAT SHE THOUGHT WERE FOR HER CS SHE AND EREN WERE DHOPPING TOGETHER THE OTHER DAY plsplsplsplsssss i need it

there was a pt. 2 abt mika tryna win carla’s favor so her chances w/ eren would increase or smth but turns out reader and eren were already at carlas house before mikasa so carla and eren tries to make mika excluded as possible

[snowbellewells]

CS Fic Rec Monday: "The Little Shop Across the Street" by: @lenfaz

The fourth and final rec for this Monday morning is a one shot written by @lenfaz for a Valentines event some time back. It believe this story has been around quite a while, but I only recently discovered it and was absolutely touched by its sweetness and charm. In it, Killian is a florist and Emma is opening a tattoo parlor across the street from his flower shop. She comes in to get practice at drawing flowers, and they begin to form a bond that is genuine and lovely. I don't want to give too much more away, but if you (like me) have missed this one up until now, give it a read. It's wonderful! :)

"The Little Shop Across the Street" by: @lenfaz

[whimsicallyenchantedrose]

Valentine’s Rerun (2 of 2): The Valentine

Tagging a few people who may be interested (Let me know if you want to be added or taken off the list): @sailormew4 @annaamell @flslp87 @emmateo26@bethacaciakay @ultraluckycatnd @effulgent-mind @ilovemesomekillianjones @kat2609 @brooke-to-broch @missgymgirl @galadriel26 @the-lady-of-misthaven @charmingturkeysandwich @jennjenn615 @laschatzi @kimmy46 @snowbellewells @iamanneenigma @daxx04 @nickillian @in-spirational @gillie  @britishguyslover @ginnyjinxedandhanshotritafirst @kmomof4  @linda8084 @golfgirld @captain-swan-coffee @searchingwardrobes @hollyethecurious @laughswaytoomuch  @allyourdarlingswans  @winterbaby89 @facesiousbutton82 @therooksshiningknight, @lfh1226-linda @tiganasummertree  @jrob64  @anmylica     @cosette141​ 

Canon divergence from the end of 3a. Pan never escaped Pandora’s box, and thus never cast his curse. Now that Storybrooke is villain-free for the moment, the town can get back to everyday life. As Valentine’s Day approaches, 12 year old Henry makes a Valentine for his crush, Grace--a Valentine that through a mix up, falls into the wrong hands. Can this errant Valentine re-ignite a spark that’s been smoldering since Neverland?

Twelve-year-old Henry took a deep breath and looked down at the red, pink and white card in his hand.  It was covered with hearts and flowers and a whimsical drawing of cupid with his arrow notched and pointed toward a dark haired boy and a blonde haired girl who were shyly looking up at each other.

His stomach felt funny—like he didn’t know whether he was excited or whether he was about to throw up—as he thought about what he planned to do.  What if she didn’t like it? What if she didn’t like him the way he liked her? What if she laughed at him and everybody at school made fun of him?

He didn’t think Grace would do that to him, but you never know.  He’d only just gotten over thinking of girls as gross, and honestly, they kind of scared him.

Taking another deep breath and then letting it out, Henry nodded in determination.  He’d just survived an adventure on Neverland .  He’d been kidnapped by Pan’s minions, and he’d have literally lost his heart if his moms and his dad and the rest of his family hadn’t come to save him.  If he was brave enough for that, he was brave enough to let a girl know how he felt about her.

He looked over the card one more time.  The front said “Roses are red, violets are blue…”, and then on the inside it continued, “...for our love I will always find you.  You are my heart’s treasure.” How perfect was this card? It even had their family’s unofficial motto on it!

Henry’s pen hovered for a moment over the illustration on the inside.  What looked like a pirate’s treasure chest sat upon a beach next to a hole that had obviously recently been dug.  The chest was open and red, white and pink hearts spilled out of it.

Nodding his head in determination, Henry added his own sentiments below the illustration.  “I think about you every hour of every day. Do you think we could spend some time together?”

He debated whether or not to sign his name to the card, but in the end decided against it.  What if one of the other kids at school saw it? He’d die of embarrassment if anyone else found out that he like liked Grace!

“Kid, it’s about time for school!” His mom called up the loft stairs.  “You ready to go?”

Henry hastily slid the card into a plain, red envelope, and put it on top of his school books before bounding down the stairs and depositing the entire pile on the kitchen table.  “Just a minute Mom. I need the bathroom.”

“Okay,” he heard Mom say, “but hurry, Kid.  It snowed last night, and the roads are a mess.”

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

Emma took a last swig of her coffee, and then dumped her stack of case files on the table on top of Henry’s stuff.  She figured she had just enough time to snag a pop-tart from the cupboard before Henry would be ready for school.

Emma pinched the bridge of her nose.  It was barely 7:15 am, and she already had a headache.  Why had she thought it was a good idea to bring an armload of case files home with her to work on after-hours?  She was a good person; why did she want to torture herself?

The minute hand ticked past 7:30, and Emma felt her frustration rise.  “Come on, Henry! If we don’t leave soon, we’re both going to be late!”

Hoping to speed things along a bit, Emma grabbed her files, put them aside, and then shoved Henry’s school stuff into his bookbag.

“Sorry mom!” Henry said, bursting out of the bathroom and donning his peacoat and scarf.  “I just...well...I mean…”

Emma looked at him with concern.  “Something wrong, Kid? You can tell me; you know that, right?”

He looked aside and then nodded, his face flaming.  “I know. It’s not a big deal. It’s just...it’s Valentine’s Day, and there’s this girl I kind of..you know.. like , and I have a card for her.  I just wanted to make sure my hair looks good and stuff.”

Emma smiled and put a comforting hand on his shoulder.  “I’m sure she’ll love it, Kid. Any girl would be lucky to have you.”

Half an hour later, Henry safely dropped off at school, Emma strolled into the Sheriff’s office, and started the long process of removing all her winter outerwear.  “Brr,” she said, “It’s cold out there!”

Across the bullpen, Hook nodded absently and muttered something about how he was glad she made it safely, as he continued looking down at whatever he’d been reading.

They’d returned to Storybrooke from Neverland three weeks ago.  With Pan safely stowed in Pandora’s box—which Gold had stored in some super secret location with all kinds of protective magic surrounding it—and Greg and Tamara no longer living, things had gone back to what passed for normal in Storybrooke.  Emma didn’t want to jinx it, but they’d been blessedly villain-free for the entire three weeks.

David had decided to take some time off of his co-sheriffing duties to spend quality time with Mary Margaret (and Emma suspected, though she really didn’t want to know about this, he also took time off so that they could focus on making Mary Margaret’s “I want another baby” wish come true), which had left Emma down one officer of the law.  She’d subsequently hired Hook to be her deputy.

She’d thought he’d have been thrilled with the offer to work with her, thought he’d get all flirty and lay the charm and innuendo on thick, but that hadn’t been the case.  He’d been strangely withdrawn ever since they’d returned from Neverland. He was always there when she needed him, but their camaraderie and banter was just... gone ...and Emma had no idea what had happened.  Had she done something to drive him away?

She didn’t want to think about all of it too much, but she missed him.  Somewhere along the way—probably in Neverland—she’d begun to think of him as a friend, maybe one of her best friends in Storybrooke.  He’d become her confidante, and he was always there to offer a listening ear and wise advice when she needed it.

But lately...things were just different.

And she kind of hated it.

If only Neal would adopt the same attitude.  Emma felt the headache intensify at the thought of her ex.  He’d wasted no time asking her to lunch with him the very day that they had returned from Neverland.  She’d stood him up, not sure what she wanted with him. A part of her still loved him; a part of her would probably always love him, but they were different people now.  And truth be told, though she believed at least a part of him truly believed he was doing what was best for her by abandoning her, there are some wounds that can just never fully heal.  

And so, the next time Neal had asked her out, she’d told him as gently as she could that she did care about him, and she was glad that Henry had him in his life, but she’d moved on and their opportunity for a relationship had died more than a dozen years ago.

She’d hoped he would accept it and move on himself, but so far, that hadn’t been the case.  He still pestered her to give him another chance every few days.

Hook put aside the paper he’d been reading, and stood and stretched.  Emma watched, enjoying the way his muscles moved and bunched beneath the thin cotton of his shirt.  “How can I be of service today, Swan?”

Emma eyed the files on her desk.  “Can you file these?” she asked. “They go in that file cabinet against the wall.  They’re arranged by case number.”

“Aye,” Killian said simply, scooping up the files without a glance in her direction.

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

Killian grabbed the files and made his way quickly toward the file cabinet she’d indicated.  He felt his heart clench at the brief nearness to her, and the scent of her vanilla and cinnamon shampoo, and the electricity he felt in the air when he was near her.

He’d promised Bae he would back off, give him a chance to try to reunite his family.  He figured he owed him that at least.

But it was torture to be so near Swan and not truly be with her.  He loved her, and he knew that would never change, but he wanted her to be truly happy.  He hoped that happiness would include him, but if she chose to pursue it with Bae, he would abide by her wishes.  Somehow he would let her go.

Perhaps it had been unwise to accept the deputy position and work with her every day, but he only had so much strength.  He could not— would not—deny her any request she made.

He blew out a long breath, shaking his head to clear his melancholy thoughts.  Best to focus on the task at hand rather than the sad state of his romantic life.

Killian made short work of the files, but when he’d placed the last one in its proper place, he realized he was left with one last thing in his hand—a plain red envelope.  He looked down at it quizzically. What was this?

Returning to his desk, he slit it open with his hook and then pulled out the folded piece of cardstock inside.

Killian’s eyes widened as he read the words the brightly decorated missive contained.

“ Roses are red, violets are blue, for our love, I will always find you.  You are my heart’s treasure. ”

And then handwritten below, “ I think about you every hour of every day.  Do you think we could spend some time together? ”

Killian felt his heart pick up speed.  This missive had been on the bottom of the stack of files; the stack Emma had handed him.  Had Emma meant to give it to him? She must have; what other explanation could there be?

Looking down, Killian read the sentiments on the cardstock once more: “ I think about you every hour of every day.  Do you think we could spend some time together? ”

Was it possible?  Was she truly declaring her feelings for him?

He knew she felt something for him, had known it from the beginning.  She was an open book after all.  

I can’t take the chance that I’m wrong about you.

Even as far back as their journey on the beanstalk, there had been something between them, but her heart had been so bruised, so guarded that she couldn’t give in to it.

Were her walls coming down?  Was this her way of letting him know she wanted to explore the feelings that kiss in Neverland exposed?

For the first time since returning from the accursed jungles of Neverland, Killian felt hope.  Aye, he’d promised Bae he’d back off to give Swan a chance to sort out her feelings, but if this was really happening—if she had made her choice and that choice was him, there was no chance in any realm he was going to turn her away.

Slowly a plan began to form in his mind.

“Swan,” he called over, “I’ll be back in two shakes.”

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

As the sun began to set that night, Emma found herself making her way down to the docks questions swirling through her mind and a strange sense of anticipation in her heart.

For three weeks, Hook had effectively ignored her, and then today….well, today was different.  This afternoon, just before he left for the day, Hook had placed a single, folded sheet of paper on the desk in front of her, then, without a word, he left.

She’d looked after him for a full minute, wondering, for probably the five hundredth time in the last month what was up with him.  Then she’d unfolded the sheet of paper and smoothed it out on the desk in front of her, smiling at the neat, almost flowery handwriting.

Swan,

I would love to spend time with you.  You need never have any question about that, love.  Please meet me this evening at sunset at the Jolly Roger .  I think perhaps it’s time we talk.

Yours,

Killian

Emma had spent the better part of the last two hours trying to decide whether or not to meet Hook as he’d asked.  On the one hand, it was a risk. If she went and he made some grand gesture trying to “win her heart” as he’d promised to do in Neverland—that was, well, a lot .  Even now, all these months later she just wasn’t sure she could take a chance that she was wrong about him.  If she let her guard down and he broke her heart…

On the other hand, she missed him, really, truly missed him.  All through their time in Neverland she’d told herself he annoyed her.  She’d told herself she wished he’d just back off , wished he’d stop with the flirting and innuendo and—even worse—the genuine caring and concern in his eyes.  But now that he had backed off, well now she realized how important he had become to her.  Leaving aside any question of romantic feelings, he had been her friend, a friend who genuinely got her.  Someone who could raise her spirits when they were down, someone who knew exactly what she needed and when she needed it, someone who believed in her 100%, always.

And it was that thought that convinced her that meeting him as he asked was what she wanted to do.

Besides, Henry was staying with Regina tonight, and David and Mary Margaret had big Valentine’s Day plans, so what else was she going to do?

Which is why she found herself at the dock where the Jolly Roger was moored just as the sun touched the horizon.

She wasn’t quite sure of the protocol for boarding a 300-year-old pirate ship.  Were you supposed to knock? Yell out for permission? Just climb on up? Just to cover her bases, she did all three.

A moment later, Killian’s dark head poked out from the hatch, and the smile he gave her was tender and boyish—and, okay, if she was being honest, kind of made the butterflies dance in her stomach.

“Come aboard love,” he said.  “Dinner awaits us in the captain’s quarters.”

Curious, Emma did as instructed, walking the gangplank, and then climbing down the steps of the hold.  When she turned around and got a proper look at the captain’s quarters, her jaw dropped.

There were candles. Everywhere.  A table was set in the middle of the room with a red and white checked table cloth, a beautiful bouquet of roses, accented with baby’s breath, two elaborate place settings and a bottle of wine.

She turned confused eyes on the pirate standing before her, dressed in his customary leather, but with a red brocade vest rather than his customary black.  He looked...nervous. Reaching up to scratch behind his ear, he lowered his eyes to the table. He uncorked the wine and poured them each a generous portion of what looked like Merlot, before clearing his throat and looking back at her.

“I suppose I should have chosen some manner of fancier victuals, but I wanted to provide you with something I knew you would like.”

With a flourish, he removed the cover from her place setting to reveal a steaming grilled cheese sandwich and a generous helping of onion rings.

“Um--” she said, “it looks good?”

She had no idea why it came out as a question.

“Shall we?” he asked, gesturing toward the table.

“Uh...okay.”  

Hook came around the table and held her chair for her, pushing it in gently once she was seated, and then he took his own seat.

“I’m afraid I only have the most rudimentary knowledge of courting protocols within your realm,” he said, “but it would seem that sharing a candlelight meal with your sweetheart is a custom that transcends the years and the realms.”

Suddenly it clicked.  Hook hadn’t just asked her here to talk.  He asked her here on a date .

Emma got abruptly to her feet, heart pounding.  “Hook? What’s going on here?” she asked, “is this...are you...was this a date ?”

Killian slowly got to his feet, brow furrowed.  “Aye?” he said carefully. “Was that not what you intended in the missive you gave me this morning?”

“Was that not what I…. what ?”

“The card you gave me, love,” he said.  As though to illustrate, he pulled a red envelope from his breast pocket and handed it to her.

Thoroughly confused, she pulled the (kind of gaudy) card free from the envelope and read it.

“Killian, where did you even get this, and why do you think it’s from me?”

A look of confusion, quickly followed by what might be embarrassment passed across his features.  “I think it’s from you, Swan, because you gave it to me. It was at the bottom of the stack of files you asked me to put away for you.”

For a moment, Emma merely looked at him, and then suddenly she understood.  Taking her seat again, she started laughing.

“I fail to see what is so amusing, love,” Killian said, taking his own seat.  Emma could hear the embarrassment and frustration in his voice, and that more than anything made her calm down.  Surprised at her own boldness, Emma reached across the table and took hold of his hand and hook.

“Hook, Killian,” she said, “I didn’t give you that card, but I think I know what happened.  This morning Henry was talking about this girl he has a crush on and about a Valentine he wanted to give her.  Must have gotten mixed in with my stuff before we left.”

Hook’s face flamed and he pulled his hand free to scratch at his ear again.  “I...I apologize for the misunderstanding Swan.”

It was that moment, for whatever reason, that everything just...clicked into focus for Emma.  The last three weeks, she’d missed him; that much she already knew.  What she’d failed to grasp until this very moment was the fact that it wasn’t just friendship and support she wanted from Hook.  It was...well, she wasn’t even sure she could define what exactly she wanted from him, but it was something more, something bigger, something that would change the course of her life forever.

The thought was scary, and yet also strangely comforting.  She knew, knew deep down that she could trust her heart with him.  And so, maybe it was time to take a leap of faith.

“Killian,” she said, watching as he resolutely refused to look at her.  Reaching across the table, she tipped up his chin until his eyes met hers.  “It may be true that I didn’t send you that Valentine, but...well...that doesn’t mean it’s not true.”

His eyes widened.  “Swan, are you saying--?”

She laughed nervously.  “To be honest, I don’t know exactly what I’m saying.  I’m not good with letting down my walls and being vulnerable and stuff.  I don’t know exactly what I want to happen between us, but I know I want something with you.  Do you—do you mind if we take things slow until I figure it out?”

The smile he gave her could have put the radiance of the sun to shame.  “Love, I’ve got all the time in the world.”

[kmomof4]

They are ALL absolutely BEAUTIFUL!!!

@xarandomdreamx told me I HAD to post one of these immediately. And she’s an awesome beta so of course I listened to her!

I think I failed my own assignment. They’re less whumpy and more cuddly.

On AO3

Tag!

@zaharadessert @winterbaby89 @teamhook @caught-in-the-filter @kmomof4 @anmylica @earanemith @tiganasummertree @elfiola @ilovemesomekillianjones @jonesfandomfanatic @booksteaandtoomuchtv @everything-person @jrob64

If I missed you, I still love you, but you might have to remind me. 🤦🏼‍♀️

[sabraeal]

I hope you will take this as a fun opportunity and not an annoyance but I was wondering if you had any book recs? I generally read fantasy and have been trying to break into Adult Lit over YA (while still liking YA and hoping to find adult novels with the same engaging settings and brisk pacing but with more advanced prose). Really liked Spinning Silver and Uprooted by Naomi Novik this year, and my favorites of your fics are Seven Suitors (obligatory), pacific rim au, and the snow queen one. I’ve never really read romance before but I’m willing to give it a try, especially if there’s other genre elements at play as well. Do you have any directions you could point me? I appreciate it!

Oh, I always love giving book recs, and thank you so much for giving me some preferences because it's so much easier to direct people when I know what they already like!

My current favorite YA author right now is Frances Hardinge, who writes truly magnificent prose and absolutely amazing worlds. If you like All That Remains, you will probably love the emotional devastation that is The Lie Tree, and a few of my other favorites are Gullstruck Island and Cuckoo Song. If you are a fan of Terry Pratchett, you also can't go wrong with her Fly By Night duology. Genevieve Valentine is another YA author I highly recommend; Mechanique is probably my favorite, but the Persona series is also top notch, and The Girls at the Kingfisher Club has a vibe that cannot be beat.

I haven't yet read Spinning Silver but Uprooted is also a fav of mine; I have a deep love of fairy tale retellings, or stories written to be like fairy tales. On that thread I definitely recommend the Winternight trilogy by Katherine Arden (I have a few quibbles with the story, but the writing is solid and the first book had me captivated for a good 3/4ths of it), The Orphan's Tales by Catherynne M Valente, plus A Curse Dark as Gold by Elizabeth C Bunce (her Thief Errant series also lives RENT FREE in my head at all times).

Seven Suitors was fleshed out with Regency mores in mind, inspired by by historical mystery novels I read in that time period, plus some fantasy with more rigid social structure. The Crown & Court duet by Sherwood Smith is something I would consider formative for my writing in that quarter. For something actually regency set, though definitely not the same genre, I would recommend the Sebastian St Cyr series by CS Harris, which are mysteries set in Georgian London, featuring a brooding hero who starts off with an equally brooding, star-crossed actress as a lover...only to have the rug pulled out beneath him by the daughter of his father's long-standing political rival.

My scifi chops are rather thin-- I love the genre but I find lots of the deeper cuts here get too info-dumpy for me on the hard science level-- but I can definitely recommend The Expanse series by James SA Corey (as well as pretty much anything Daniel Abraham writes in the fantasy genre)

As for All That Remains, there are several extremely painful fantasy series I could recommend, because I love having my heart torn out, stamped on, and then taped back in. Guy Gavriel Kay is a great writer for that-- I suggest starting at Lions of Al-Rassan and then working your way forward through that setting by publishing date. The aforementioned Daniel Abraham also is amazing at this; The Seasons Quartet is a decades-spanning series that will truly make your tear out your hair at the end of each book. NK Jemisin is also amazing, The Broken Earth trilogy is where I would start out for intense heart-stomping.

[cosette141]

Hi, it's your CS Secret Santa again!

Oh I love Finding Nemo, Real Steel, Two Week's Notice, Mamma Mia. Valentine's day is great! I really like the movie New Year's Eve. It is built in the same way as Valentine's Day and has the same vibe. If you haven't seen it, I highly recommend it.

I'm huge Harry Potter fan, I have the Eragon series in my library, but it's still waiting for its turn. A new book in the series has recently been released.

Do you have a particular song (or songs) that you associate with CS? I love adding lyrics to my work and it would be nice to add something you love.

❤️❄️❤️☃️❤️🎄

You've seen Real Steel!?? I feel like everyone I mention that to has never heard of it! 💕💕 I never thought I could love a movie about fighting robots so much, and they made it sooo heartwarming :D

Oh yes!!! I forgot about New Years Day! I remember being so excited to see it after the success of Valentines Day, it was so adorable too!

Ooh!! And you know what's so funny, I looked up the new Eragon book you mentioned cause I didn't know about it (it's been about a decade or more since I read the series) and I just saw that they announced Disney is making an Eragon TV show lol! Gosh I hope they do it justice lol, the Eragon movie they did was terrible XD

Ooh I love that question!! YES I have songs I associate with CS hahah XD The song I listened to a lot when writing a fic called Begin Again was this song "Sailor's Heart" by Zyke. (Linked to Spotify!) It's just sooo them :)

And I make fanvids a lot, and I made some for CS and these songs I felt fit them sooooo well :D https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLuvMF6yceQ7MpXZYJZfeL3-U6HN1uqiGk&si=sD4eFosGK5Eu9LRl

Do you have any CS songs?? You've gotta :D ;)

Thanks for the ask, Santa!! It was also a great birthday present for today hehe! 💕💕

[searchingwardrobes]

Valentine Throwbacks: Day 2

This was written a few years ago for the 14 Days of Valentine’s Prompts on tumblr. This was for day three: the meet-cute.

Summary: Emma Swan doesn’t do “cute.” So when she meets Killian Jones for the first time, well, she meets ALL of him. Or what happens when gym employee Emma walks in on Killian in the tanning bed.

Making a picset for this fic was simultaneously fun and frustrating. Colin’s chest hair is one of a kind, isn’t it? ;) I also didn’t want this to be NSFW, so the tanning bed pic isn’t exactly as described in the story, lol.

Words: almost 3k

Rated: High T ? I mean, Emma accidentally sees him nude, but that’s about it. I just can’t bring myself to rate this an M because it’s overall just funny and cute.

Also on Ao3

Tagging the usuals: @snowbellewells @whimsicallyenchantedrose @kmomof4 @let-it-raines @teamhook @bethacaciakay @xhookswenchx @tiganasummertree @shireness-says @stahlop @scientificapricot @welllpthisishappening @resident-of-storybrooke @thislassishooked @ilovemesomekillianjones @kday426 @ekr032-blog-blog @lfh1226-linda @ultraluckycatnd @nikkiemms @optomisticgirl @profdanglaisstuff @carpedzem @ohmakemeahercules @branlovestowrite @superchocovian @sherlockwhovian @vvbooklady1256 @hollyethecurious @winterbaby89 @delirious-latenight-laughs @jennjenn615 @snidgetsafan @xsajx​ @itsfabianadocarmo @spartanguard @hookedonapirate​

Emma Swan did not work her butt off just to wipe things. She practically crawled and scraped her way into a meaningful life after getting out of prison. She worked multiple jobs, lived in her car, ate nothing but beans straight from the can, and when the misery was all said and done, she had a college degree in exercise science. But like any field these days everyone wanted experience, so until she somehow got some, she was relegated to wiping things. Wiping down the equipment, wiping down mats, wiping, wiping, and more wiping. And she only made slightly more than the teenagers at the reception desk and the college guy who made the smoothies.

Emma sighed as she grabbed yet another fresh rag after her boss told her the tanning machines needed . . . you guessed it, wiping. She was paying more attention to her internal raging about how much her life sucked than she was to her superior telling her which beds were occupied. She was pretty sure she said they were all being used except for bed three, so Emma went all the way to the end of the narrow hallway that housed the tanning beds and stopped at the last door. If she hadn’t been distracted and moody, she might have thought to knock. Maybe. Then again, most people locked the damn door.

Well, not this guy. He also didn't wear underwear to tan like most people. Nope, he was completely nude. He lay there, in all his glory, shimmering under the UV bulbs like the god Apollo or something. And the Greek god comparison wasn’t an exaggeration between the light shining on him, and the chiseled muscles, and the perfect . . . He was sort of like a living version of the statue of the David, but tanned and with lots of chest hair.

“Who’s there!” he called out.

Emma gasped, then cursed under her breath as she turned and left, slamming the door behind her. She sagged against the heavy oak door, her heart racing. She groaned and covered her face with the hand that wasn’t still clutching the bottle of cleanser and rag. Had she just stood there and stared at the guy? Oh god, she had.

Suddenly, the door behind her gave way and Emma fell backwards with a yelp. From her place on the floor, she looked up to see Apollo himself standing above her, smirking, wearing nothing but a pair of tight, white briefs. Did he look . . . pleased with himself? She suddenly realized she was clutching the bottle of cleanser to her chest.

“Like what you saw, darling?” he asked with an arched brow. He had a British accent. Of course.

Emma rolled her eyes at him as she struggled to her feet, irritatingly brushing off his attempts to assist her. “Please, I didn’t even look. Do you think I want to burn my retinas?”

His eyes, which were an amazing shade of blue, seemed alight with mirth as he regarded her. “Then why the blush?” He leaned towards her slightly, his encroachment upon her personal space made all the more infuriating by his lack of clothing. She took a step back towards the doorway.

“Oh great,” she snapped, “you’re that type.”

His brow furrowed, and for a moment he actually looked slightly hurt. “What type?”

Emma crossed her arms across her chest, despite the awkwardness of the cleaning supplies clutched in her hand. “Isn’t it obvious? I mean, seriously, who uses a tanning bed in the middle of the winter? Except for –“ she vaguely gestured up and down his person, “wanna-be Calvin Klein underwear models.”

It was his turn to scowl and cross his arms over his chest. His very appealing chest that Emma was trying really hard not to stare at.

“Or maybe some people do it for their health. You ever think of that?”

“Yeah right,” Emma bit out, “health of what? Your sex life, playboy?”

His blue eyes sparked with indignation. “Oh, you get an eye-full and you suddenly know me?”

Guilt pricked at her for a moment. She was in the wrong here for barging in without knocking. But his smirking and innuendos had her defenses up. “I know your type,” she told him smugly with a tilt of her chin.

“You walk in on me, and I’m the bad guy?”

He had a point, and she knew it. She took several more steps backwards into the hallway and turned on her heel, her ponytail swinging with irritation all its own. “Ugh, I’ve got work to do. Wipe the bed down, I get tired of cleaning up other people’s sweat all day.”

Emma half expected him to get in one last word, but as she marched away, all she heard was the slamming of the door to tanning room three.

***********************************************************

The week of her little embarrassing tanning bed episode, there had been a slight lull at the gym. It had been the last week of January, when New Year’s resolutions were waning and the cold weather dampened people’s motivation. But now people seemed to suddenly realize that Valentine’s Day was only two weeks away, and the gym was once again packed. Even the indoor pool had been in more frequent usage, so Emma’s boss sent her to check the chlorine levels. With the flu epidemic, they couldn’t afford to let germs spread in the warm water.

It had also been a week since Emma had seen “Apollo the sun god,” much to her relief. But when she exited the women’s locker room, into the pool area, there he was: his muscular back an appealing sight as his arms cut through the water. He was evidently an experienced swimmer as he turned off the wall expertly and did a strong backstroke across the length of the pool. Emma shook her head and cursed herself. Damn it, she was staring again!

Emma was leaning over the edge, a nice distance away from the tanning god, getting samples of the water in little test tubes. She was shaking the first one to get a result when she was sprayed with little droplets of water. She looked up, her eyes angry, narrow slits, to see him, treading water easily with a maddening grin on his face. The pool water made his blue eyes almost glitter like sapphires, and he looked unfairly sexy wet.

“I’ve been hoping to see you again,” he told her. “We didn’t exactly get off on the right foot. I’m sorry I teased you, I was just trying to help you see the humor in the situation. It came off wrong, obviously.”

Emma purposely ignored him, staring at the little tube in her hand and trying to remember what the hell she was looking at. He cut through the water towards her, and rested his arm on the edge of the pool inches away from where she crouched.

“I’m Killian Jones by the way,” he said. Emma pressed her lips together in frustration as she blushed for absolutely no reason. She still refused to look at him. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him cock his head. “And this is the part where you say, hello, I’m Emma Swan.”

She jerked her head so fast, she almost dropped the test tube. “How did you –“

“I can read, love,” he laughed, gesturing towards her right shoulder.

Emma groaned as she glanced down at her employee name tag. She got hit on all the time at the gym, and had heard a million different pick-up lines involving her last name. But she had sworn off men since Neal, except for an occasional one night stand. But those were never men from work; too much familiarity.

“Some men would take your silence as off-putting,” Killian told her then with a smirk, “but I love a challenge.” Then he had the audacity to wink before diving back under the water.

Emma rubbed her forehead wearily as she stood. The water was low on chemicals, so she pushed the handsome swimmer/sun bather from her mind as she collected what she needed from the supply closet. She measured the chlorine as well as a small dose of shock and added it to the filtration system, then she headed back for the locker room.

Emma wasn’t sure exactly what happened next. There was a puddle of water on the tile floor deep enough to send her sensible sneakers sliding out from under her. Then her arms were wind-milling in empty air, and the pool water seemed to be rushing up to meet her. But before she could hit the water, a hand shot out and grasped her by the elbow. She was hauled from the pool edge, colliding with a warm, wet, very masculine chest.

Killian Jones chuckled as his other arm came around her. “Next time, don’t stand on ceremony.”

Emma blamed her shocked surprise for her delayed reaction in pulling away from him. “Please, Jones, don’t flatter yourself.”

He tucked his tongue into his cheek and waggled his eyebrows, “Remembering yesterday?”

Emma fumed as she gave him a disdainful once-over. “I’m just shocked you’re not in a speedo, mister tighty-whitey.”

Killian’s eyes widened and his gaze went from playful to irritated. “You wouldn’t even know I wore tighty-whities if you hadn’t walked in on me!”

Emma threw up her hands in frustration, resisting the urge to shove him. “It was an accident!”

He arched one brow. “Like you almost falling in the pool?”

Emma scoffed as she crossed her arms over her chest, “Who said I was falling?”

“Fine,” he spat out, “next time, I’ll just let you fall.”

He brushed past her then, grabbing his towel angrily as he marched towards the men’s locker room. Emma started to stomp her way in the opposite direction, but then decided she better tread more carefully on the wet floor.

Not that she had needed Killian Jones to catch her. She was just fine on her own.

********************************************************

Several hours later, Emma walked into her apartment and kicked her gym shoes off by the door. Her feet ached as she dragged herself over to the couch and plopped down next to her roommate. She groaned and Elsa laughed, handing her a slice of pizza from the pie resting on the coffee table.

“Rough day?”

“Yeah,” Emma muttered around a bite, “tanning bed guy showed up again.”

“Oh,” Elsa laughed, wrinkling her nose, “that must have been embarrassing.”

Emma waved her hand. “Don’t want to talk about it. I just want to stuff my face with pizza and zone out in front of the TV.” She narrowed her eyes at the screen and groaned, “Not this, Elsa, seriously?”

Her best friend shook her head as she chuckled at Emma. “Dr. Oz gives lots of good advice.” She poked Emma in the shoulder. “You should listen to him, junk food junkie. How you’re ever going to be a personal trainer when you eat like a fourteen year old, is beyond me.”

Emma smirked and lifted two fingers, “One, I was gifted with an amazing metabolism. Two, my clients will just need to do as I say, not as I do.”

They both laughed then and continued devouring the pizza. Emma’s brow furrowed as she tried to follow the show, since she had missed the first half. “What’s wrong with this girl he’s talking to?” she finally asked Elsa.

“Seasonal affective disorder,” Elsa explained, “lots of people get it in the winter.”

Emma snorted. “Is that a real thing? It sounds made up.”

Elsa shrugged, “I don’t understand it, since I love winter. The snow is so pretty, and the cold – I just don’t get why it bothers people.”

Emma rolled her eyes and tossed a throw pillow at her friends’ head, “Okay, you’re weird, we’ve established that.”

Elsa whacked Emma with the pillow then hugged it to her chest instead of giving it back. “Seriously though, it is a real thing. My friend at work struggles with it. I finally talked him into seeing a therapist, and Killian says it really helps him. Some things that help are physical, like –“

The blood had drained from Emma’s face as she choked out, “like a tanning bed?”

Elsa’s eyes widened, “Yeah, actually, and he swims in an indoor pool, too. Why?”

Emma groaned, dropping her pizza back to the box. She covered her face with both hands. “Please,” she muttered between her fingers, “don’t tell me his last name is Jones and that he has a British accent.”

“Yeah, he –“ Elsa’s words cut off as understanding dawned, “oh my god, you’re not saying he’s the tanning bed guy?”

Emma peeked through her fingers, “Yes, that’s what I’m saying. He introduced himself today – at the pool. Trying to be nice, actually.” She moaned as she lowered her head to Elsa’s lap. “I’m a bitch,” she whispered.

Elsa just gave a tiny, soft laugh as she worked the tangles out of Emma’s hair with her long fingers. “Well, so am I, that’s why we’re friends.”

*****************************************************

Emma hoped that good intentions justified quasi-stalking. She had to make it up to Killian for being so horrible, and she couldn’t just wait around to bump into him again. She pulled his account up on her work computer and learned his gym routine. Killian Jones was an extremely punctual person of habit. On Tuesdays and Thursdays he got to the gym at 5 am and left at 6:30. Emma didn’t get to her shift on those days until 8:00. But on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays, he arrived at 7:00 pm and left at 8:30, which were the same days that Emma worked late.

Unfortunately, Elsa informed her that Killian had come down with the dreaded flu. By the time he came back to the gym, and Emma had figured out how to approach him, it was February the 14th. It wasn’t ideal to approach him on Valentine’s Day. After all, she didn’t want him to get the wrong idea. But if she put it off any longer, she knew she would chicken out. So on Valentine’s Day, when Killian Jones exited the gym, he found Emma Swan leaning against his black SUV with a smoothie in her hand. (That had taken additional stalking. To ascertain the smoothie he usually ordered and which vehicle in the parking lot belonged to him.)

“A peace offering?” Emma asked, hating when her voice cracked a bit. When he just stood there with his mouth hanging open, she rushed on, “And an apology? For walking in on you and then. . .well, for being a bitch.”

That finally got a chuckle out of him. He shuffled forward, and for the first time looked nervous. He tossed his bag in the back seat then turned to her with a smile as he leaned against the car with his arms crossed. “What brought on this sudden change?”

Emma’s face fell, and her eyes lowered to stare at the cup in her hand. “Your friend, Elsa Arrendale? I’m her roommate.”

“Oh,” Killian said, scratching behind his ear.

“And she didn’t tell me much,” Emma rushed to explain, “just enough to make me see how quick I was to judge you.”

Killian nodded. “So she told you I’m a mess this time of year, huh?”

Emma smiled and shrugged, “Hey, not everyone loves freezing their ass off the way Elsa does.” That got another chuckle out of him. “And besides, I’m a mess pretty much year round.”

“Well,” Killian said with a long sigh, “I was too, for a while. Right after my Milah died, I could barely get out of bed each morning. That was five years ago.”

Emma frowned. “I’m so sorry. Who was she? Your wife?”

“Aye,” Killian answered softly, “she died in a car accident. This time of year. We were going out on a nice date.”

“Valentine’s day?”

“No,” he said with a shake of his head and a false grin, “my birthday, actually, end of January.”

“I’m so sorry, Killian. No wonder this time of year is so hard for you.” She bit her lip. “Can you ever forgive me for being such a jerk to you?”

He ran his hand down his face, and afterwards, he gave her a more relaxed smile. “Of course I forgive you, Swan. I do make an arse of myself at times, so I can’t really blame you.”

They shared a laugh at that. Emma cocked her head, studying him and seeing him in a whole new light. “You have Valentine plans?”

Both his eyebrows lifted, “Can’t say I do. Why?”

She shrugged, “How about I buy you a drink?” She shook the smoothie cup still in her hand. “A bit stronger than this.”

Killian gave her a sinful smile, cocked his head, and tapped his lips. “I’d say you owe me a proper apology, love.”

Emma wanted to scoff, to roll her eyes, but all she could do was smile as a blush crept up her face. “That’s what the drink is for.”

Killian pouted then, quite affectively. “That’s all I get? When this time of year makes me so, so sad?”

What Emma did next was partly to shut him up. However, she had to admit, it was also because she had imagined what it would be like to kiss him a thousand times since the tanning bed. So she lunged for him, the smoothie falling to the ground forgotten with a thud and a splash. She hauled him in by the collar of his shirt, her mouth hungrily taking his.

Because she could admit it now: Yes, she liked what she saw.

[kmomof4]

PRECIOUS!!!! Absolutely BEAUTIFUL!!! OMGOSH!!!!

❤️❤️❤️

"Open to Interpretation" by kazoosandfannypacks

Pairing: Captain Swan

Rating: General

Word Count: 1K

Summary: At the art museum, Emma is appalled at works by modern artist Killian Jones- until a handsome stranger convinces her otherwise.

Tags: au, fluff, captain swan, one shot, modern au

Author's notes: Happy Valentine's Day to my lovely followers and readers! Yesterday I released a poll to see which fic I should release next... and surprise, surprise, the release date was today! Almost half of you voted for "Art Museum," so I hope y'all enjoy this one! it is, in fact, based on that list of meet uglies that was floating around!

Taglist:@zahara@kmomof4@jonesfandomfanatic@booksteaandtoomuchtv@jrob64@tiganasummertree@anmylica@teamhook@undercaffinatednightmare@gingerchangeling@lonelyspectator@caught-in-the-filter  @ultraluckycatnd  @cs-rylie @silver-the-phoenix [if you’d like to be added to or removed from this list, hmu in my dms or askbox!]

Also on Ao3!

 "I can't believe this guy has a whole wing dedicated to his art." Emma muttered, staring at the painting in front of her. She didn't know who this "Killian Jones" was, but based on his art, she was glad she didn't.

 "Why not?" A voice behind her asked.

 She hadn't even realized she'd made her statement out loud, but she'd never been one to back down from a fight, even over something as trivial as art.

 "It's tasteless," She turned to look at the stranger, only to find him more attractive than she expected, "and purposeless- like if absurdism and abstract art had a child in a soulless void. This guy isn't trying to communicate anything, and if he is, he's buried it so deep his viewership can't find out what it is."

 "That's because they're not looking," He said, "besides, isn't art open to interpretation? 'Death of the author' and all that? Maybe the reason you're not seeing the message is that you're not looking hard enough."

 Determined not to be outwitted by a cute art museum stranger, she turned back to the painting in front of her and tried to see what it could possibly mean. This piece in particular was of waves on a stormy sea- except one large blotch of a vibrant white, silhouetting a sailing ship.

 "This one communicates that he knows how to paint water," Emma suggested, "but he's scared to try his hand at realism when it comes to boats. It almost looks like he intended to paint a magnificent vessel there- but backed down at the last minute."

 The stranger laughed. "That's what this picture shows. But what does that communicate?"

 "That he doesn't like to paint boats?"

 "Then I suppose you haven't paid close attention to the rest of the exhibit," he said, "ships seem to be a recurring theme in Jones' work."

 Emma bit her lip and nodded. She did recall seeing a few other paintings of ships in this wing.

 "So the absence of the ship here is intentional," he continued, "he meant for this picture to be missing something."

 "A purpose?" Emma suggested.

 He gave half a laugh, "You're closer than you think. I believe Jones' purpose," and here he paused, for a dramatic effect, "is that some purpose of his is missing. The sea has everything but a vessel to sail on it, and without it, something is missing. A clever metaphor, really- though it may be a bit lost on less intellectual self-proclaimed connoisseurs."

 "Did he just insult me?" Emma thought, though she had to admit, she started to appreciate the meaning behind the piece- there'd been times she'd felt like that shipless sea herself. Still, she was determined not to be outwit by this stranger.

 "That's just one piece," Emma said, then pointed to one she'd spent twenty minutes judging, "what do you think he meant to communicate by this?"

 This one was more simplistic than the other, painted in only three colors, and only using basic shapes. It depicted a classic red heart on a white background, with three lines overtop the heart, something like thorns sticking out of the lines- and those were deep black.

 "A valentine's heart a five year old could draw," Emma said, "basic shapes, a self proclaimed gritty design that a twelve year old emo with Microsoft Paint would be able to make for themselves."

 "You've done it again," he said, "in attempting to swing a low blow on the painting, you've instead hit the nail on the head. This is simple, it is easily accessible- and I think that's because grief is too. Whatever pain inspired this piece, he must've found it extremely extraordinary, to paint it in such an ordinary manner- as if trying to make one understand it. See how the thorns cover the heart, almost like a jail cell, like you can't reach your heart through all that grief."

 Emma nodded. "Or maybe the heart is trying to get out- and the grief is the cage you use to protect it."

 "So this piece doesn't exist in a soulless void either?" he asked, and raised an eyebrow.

 "Two out of twenty means nothing."

 "Then perhaps discuss another?" he asked.

 "What about that one?" Emma asked. A few paintings down the hall was an abstract array of brushstrokes, all positioned vertically on the canvas. All of them were in shades of red, pink and white, except for two of them. These two would've been directly parallel with each other if they were centered on the canvas, but one was on the top right and the other on the bottom left. They were a deeper shade of red, so much so that they were almost purple, and on further inspection one could even see a little bit of blue peeking out the edge of each stripe, on the sides facing their nearest edge.

 "What do you think he doesn't mean to say in this one?" he asked her.

 "It looks like Pong without the ball or the center line." Emma said. "Is this another 'something important is missing' too, like how," and here she feigned a dramatic tone of voice, "a game of Pong without the ball is already lost?"

 "Not even close this time," he said, "and you were so good up until now."

 "I thought art was up to interpretation?" Emma asked.

 "True, but look at this," he pointed to the title of the piece.

 "Silverstein's Masks?" Emma asked. "I don't know who Silverstein was, but he must've been some kind of picasso painting himself if he could wear this as a mask."

 "So knowledgeable in the visual arts, but not in the literary," he shook his head, "I believe the Silverstein in question is Shel."

 "Shel Silverstein?" Emma asked, "like, The Giving Tree."

 "Ah, so you do know the classics," he said, "but you may not be familiar with one of Silverstein's lesser known works, a short poem almost like a tragedy, simply entitled Masks."

 "And I take it you know the poem?"

"Quite familiar with it," he said, "'She had blue skin, and so did he. He kept it hid, and so did she. They searched for blue their whole lives through- then passed right by and never knew."

  "And these stripes are supposed to represent that?" Emma asked, trying to hide how impressed she was by his recitation.

 "You know more than you're letting on," he said, putting a hand on her shoulder to turn her attention back to the painting, pointing out details with his other hand, "see how these two almost look like they're moving, moving past each other. And while, for the most part, these appear like the others, you can see, just barely peeking out at the bottom- though not where the other could have ever noticed- that under all that red, they're blue."

 "So?" Emma asked, understanding exactly what it meant, but wanting to hear him say it in his own words, finding his intellect and voice and his face altogether quite attractive.

 "In trying to blend with the rest of the palate, they've closed themselves off from the opportunity to be understood- they've lost a chance to be truly loved because they tried to be something they weren't."

 Emma nodded. "I think I get it now."

 She looked up at the stranger, his hand still on her shoulder, his eyes a work of art unto themselves, one that she carefully inspected.

 "Shall we discuss another one?" he asked, remembering his place and taking his hand off Emma's shoulder.

 "I think you've proved your point," Emma said.

 "Oh?" he asked, "and what point is that?"

 Emma rolled her eyes. "Killian Jones is very clearly a talented artist with a clear message in his works."

 The stranger smiled a little more than expected, almost sheepishly.

 "I'm glad to hear you've changed your mind, miss…."

 He held his hand out to her, and she took it, noticing how strong his grip was, but how delicate as well.

 "Swan," Emma said, "Emma Swan. And you are?"

  "Artist in residence," he smiled, "Killian Jones."

[kmomof4]

Me and Mrs. Jones

Fluffy, romantic prompt from @winterbythesea​. Svenja was looking for some mood music, and this song was on the list. With her blessing, I decided to write it.

Beta services provided by @hollyethecurious​ and @profdanglaisstuff​. Thank you ladies!!!

Ao3 link

Tagging my peeps: @hollyethecurious​ @winterbaby89​ @snowbellewells​ @stahlop​ @resident-of-storybrooke​ @jennjenn615​ @kingofmyheart14​ @profdanglaisstuff​ @branlovestowrite​ @thisonesatellite​ @ultraluckycatnd​ @flslp87​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​ @let-it-raines​ @shireness-says​ @kymbersmith-90​ @darkcolinodonorgasm​ @bethacaciakay​ @searchingwardrobes​ @ilovemesomekillianjones​ @teamhook​ @aprilqueen84​ @qualitycoffeethings​ @superchocovian​ @artistic-writer​ @donteattheappleshook​ @doodlelolly0910​ @seriouslyhooked​ @tiganasummertree​

Under the cut unless Tumblr ate it.

Me and Mrs. Jones

We got a thing going on

We both know that it's wrong

But it's much too strong to let it go now

we meet everyday, at the same cafe

6: 30 and no one knows she'll be there

Holding hands, making all kinds of plans

While the jukebox plays our favorite song

Me and Mrs., Mrs. Jones, Mrs. Jones, Mrs. Jones

We got a thing going on

Both know that it's wrong

But it's much too strong to let it go now

We gotta be extra careful

That we don't build our hopes up too high

'Cause she's got her own obligations

And so do I

Me and Mrs., Mrs. Jones

Mrs. Jones, Mrs. Jones, Mrs. Jones

Well, it's time for us to be leaving

And it hurts so much, it hurts so much inside

And now she'll go her way and I'll go mine

But tomorrow we'll meet at the same place, the same time

Me and Mrs., Mrs., Mrs., Mrs. Jones

(Same place)

We both know that it's wrong

(Same time)

everyday at the same cafe

(Same place)

We got a thing going on, you know it's wrong

(Same time)

Killian Jones sauntered back toward the booth where his wife sat drinking her cocoa as the opening chords of Me and Mrs. Jones floated into a deserted Granny’s diner from the jukebox. Making his way from the back hallway, he pushed the small tables and chairs out of the way, making a wider space next to the booth where he had been sitting. Extending his hand out to his bride, he murmured into her ear, “May I have this dance, Mrs. Jones?”

She lifted her emerald gaze to his with a raised eyebrow and smirk. Placing her hand in his, she rose gracefully from the booth as he drew her into her arms. Her body lined up perfectly to his as they began to sway while the smooth timbre of Billie Paul filled the diner.

Me and Mrs. Jones

We got a thing going on

He crooned the lyrics into her ear as he tightened his hold around her. Placing an open mouth kiss on her neck, he relished her gasp and shiver of pleasure, before whispering his alternative to the next line of the song in her ear.

We both know that there’s nothin’ wrong

And it’s much too strong to let it go now

He pulled back from his beloved with a raised eyebrow and a glint of desire in his eyes as he spun her out and then pulled her back into the hard planes of his body. Swaying again, Killian raised his hand to her hair before lowering his face to hers for a kiss.

Holding hands, making all kinds of plans

While the jukebox plays our favorite song

Emma trembled in his arms as their tongues dueled and hands roamed. The diner may have been deserted, even Granny leaving for the night, but the blinds were still open and anyone out on the street might be able to see the late-night liaison between the Savior and her pirate, but he’d be damned if he cared. His hand in his Swan’s golden locks while his hooked arm was around her waist, pulling her even closer against him.

Releasing her lips and resting his forehead against hers, he whispered the next lyrics of the song into the millimeters between their lips.

Me and Mrs., Mrs. Jones, Mrs. Jones, Mrs. Jones

We got a thing going on

He groaned before he captured her lips again as her hands made their way under his waistcoat and shirt and then the waistband of his jeans.

“Ohhhh, Mrs. Jones,” he gasped, releasing her again as her hand brushed against where he was hard and aching for her. “There’s not a thing wrong, is there?” he inquired, pulling back from her slightly and staring into her lust glazed eyes.

“Mmmmm,” she hummed, “No, not a thing, Mr. Jones.” He drew her back, tightly into his arms as she nuzzled her face into his neck and placed a gentle kiss on his pulse point. “But I think it’s time to take this to a more private location. Don’t you?” She placed another kiss on his collar before leaning back to look in his eyes.

“Right you are, Mrs. Jones,” he agreed. He bumped her nose with his as the song was beginning to wind down.

But tomorrow we'll meet at the same place, the same time

Me and Mrs., Mrs., Mrs., Mrs. Jones

(Same place)

…

(Same time)

…

With a flick of her wrist, they were enveloped in a cloud of white smoke. Reappearing in their bedroom at home, he drew her into a passionate embrace before loving her long into the night.

Fin