“I’ve got an order for a hamburger with no pickles and no onions, chicken fingers, those two are sharing an order of fries, and a cobb salad.”
The bell over the door of the shop rang while Killian was handing over the tickets to Bart who grunted his agreement.
“I’ve also got a meatloaf special with mashed potatoes and green beans, and a chicken sandwich with onion rings,” he continued, knowing that Jim would manage the customer. “That sandwich is grilled, not fried, and they don’t want any sauces on it- no ketchup, mustard, or mayonnaise, got it?”
Another grunt. Killian could hear an argument at the door. He needed to check on that, but he also needed to get these last orders in, and Bart was too slammed to want to decipher his chicken-scratch orders.
“Last table ordered breakfast,” he said. “One blueberry short stack, one buttermilk short stack, one french toast, and one oatmeal. Scrambled eggs on all three from the grill, aye?”
This time it was a short, sharp nod, and Killian was able to turn to face the next challenge. It was supposed to have been the drinks for the three new tables, but instead it was the woman standing at his counter, dark eyes narrowed at him and blood-red lips pursed.
“Ms. Mills!” he said, hoping he sounded less horrified than he felt. “What brings you to the Jolly Roger? Can I offer you a table?”
“No, thank you Mr. Jones, I just-”
“Killian.”
Regina stopped and blinked, looking at him in surprise. “I beg your pardon?”
“I’ve asked you before to call me Killian, not Mr. Jones.”
“In which case, you should call me Regina. It seems like we should be on first name terms, considering.”
“Aye, as you like,” he said, thinking privately that it would be a cold day in hell before he called Emma’s mother by her first name. It would be like calling the Queen of England Lizzie to her face. “Can I make you a cup of coffee?”
Notes: Alright guys, there’s some drama and a little bit of romance in this car. I hope you enjoy it. A special thank you to @aerica13 who is my amazing beta and a godsend because I’m shit at editing my own work. Also a thank you to @shireness-says and @katie-dub for being my cheerleaders. I really appreciate you guys. Also a special thanks to @cssns and @drowned-dreamer for making my CS Supernatural Summer pretty epic. Kerry did an amazing job making me art for this story. Check it out below! It’s absolutely gorgeous and unfortunately the kiss in this chapter isn’t as romantic but we’ll get there. Summary: All of her life, Emma Swan has wanted to know who her parents were and why they abandoned her outside a police station in Menemsha, Martha’s Vineyard. After the death of her partner, she finds has the means to do so and goes back to the place of her finding to discover the truth. When the trail runs cold, she has a break down and inadvertently summons a selkie named Killian. Emma isn’t looking for love, she’s looking for answers but unfortunately for her, he cannot return to the ocean until she feels happiness. Word Count: 4,300+ AO3: [LINK] Chapters:Prologue | One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Epilogue Rating: T+
Killian surprisingly was a good research partner.
It wasn’t necessarily his actual research skills that were stellar but rather his ability to gain the assistance they needed. Where Emma had been met with stony faces and skeptical looks, Killian was greeted with smiles and batted eyelashes. The clerk at the Chilmark Town Office didn’t so much as look at Emma but rather focused all of her attention on him, tossing her hair over her shoulder and laughing at his remarks, even the ones that weren’t remotely funny.
summary: Emma Swan has a stressful job and a demanding family, and sometimes she just needs to unwind. Killian Jones is always willing to help out when he gets a distress call.
Emma Swan nods a thanks when the
waitress places her order in front of her. Exhaling slowly, she can
already feel a bit of the tension dissolve and seep from her
shoulders, trickle out of her mind. She closes her eyes and blends
out the cacophony of sounds in the dimly lit bar. A vague whiff of
air brushing her skin and a familiar smell indicate that someone has
slipped into the booth beside her.
“Hello, beautiful,” says a low
accented voice.
With her eyes still closed, she smiles
and pushes one of the two tumblers over to the newcomer before she
finally turns to look at him. “Jones,” she greets back and
reaches for her own drink, “pleasure.”
He smirks. “That you can count on.”
She snorts a little laugh and raises
her glass to him. “I hope so.”
He tilts his head and touches his
tumbler to hers with a soft, clinking sound. They both take a sip,
and their stares lock across their glasses. Suddenly Emma finds the
temperature in the room has risen a few degrees; not that this is a
surprise to her – that’s what Killian Jones does. That’s why she’s
meeting him here regularly. She hums as the spiced dark rum warms her
throat, leaving that familiar sharp sweetness on her tongue. Raising
an eyebrow at her sound, he puts down his glass and slowly runs his
tongue across his full bottom lip, a move that’s always bound to glue
her gaze to his mouth, and he knows it.
“So,” he finally drawls, “how… urgent is it?” The minute pause and the emphasis on the word urgent charge the air between them. Emma feels a blush rise in
her cheeks and is very grateful for the dim lights.
Emma Swan is a dedicated FBI agent getting over a bad breakup. When she and her
partner, Ruby Lucas, are forced to go undercover as contestants on a reality show, Emma
is forced to try and win the affections of Killian Jones, a man she despises. Killian Jones is a lost boy. Having recently been nicknamed the ‘Bad Boy of Boston,’ he’s
been living up to his moniker using women and rum to avoid dealing with his dark past.
When he’s forced to take the lead in a reality show, he encounters a gorgeous blonde who
turns his world upside down. Miss Congeniality meets The Bachelor
He had questions. So many of them, but as his fingers found the hemline of her shirt, his brain lost
the ability to form sentences. Instead, he was only able to string together a “bloody beautiful,” and
“need you now.”
Emma didn’t seem to be faring much better as her responses barely constituted as anything more
than sighs and moans. He’d ask her everything later. How she was there, how she found him,
what it meant for their future. But first, he’d make love to her like his life depended on it.
When she’d stepped close enough for him to make out her face, he was sure it had been a dream,
but she’d stepped even closer and he’d caught the scent of the perfume that was so decidedly her .
His ring still rested around her neck, just barely peeking out over the top of her dress. Dream or no
dream, he wanted her.
He leaned in and their lips met, tentatively at first, but soon they became a tangle of limbs and
mouths and tongues. Using his bad hand, he pulled her closer so that their bodies were pressed
together, competing for the same space. He let her form’s heat warm his cold, grieving heart. He
finally felt alive again.
based on @initiala‘s very simple Mermay prompt, “Look, I’m in this for more mermaid/merman smut,” which I am all too happy to oblige
Summary: Killian and Emma travel to Neverland to find the key ingredient to a spell…but find the wrong one first. and it turns out to be underwater sex pollen. And it hits Emma right in the face. There’s only one thing to be done after that.
Anything Emma had ever known about Neverland—real or fictional, preconceived or actually experienced—was turned on its head when she went below the surface of its waters, especially since she was able to see and breathe this time.
(“Still making us dive in after you, eh, Swan?” Killian had joked after they leapt off the railing of the Jolly Roger into the ocean.
“Hey, it worked, didn’t it?” she joked back, but was glad that no one had to mount a rescue this time.)
She’d become so used to the relatively monochromatic Maine sea floor—its deep greens and blues, with the occasional brightly colored fish—that coming down here was like Dorothy waking up in Oz: fish and coral came in every color of the rainbow, the foliage was practically a glowing neon green, and even the water itself was a clearer, brighter blue, not unlike Killian’s eyes. Maybe all that time here rubbed off on him? she wondered.
The only reason they had agreed to travel back to this ridiculous realm—neither of them were really all that keen on it still, for many obvious reasons—was that it was the only place they could get the pollen of the divided lily, which was apparently a necessary ingredient in finally breaking the spell on the town line. And given that it only grew in the waters of Neverland, and she and Killian were the only ones adept at navigating underwater, they were the obvious choice for this little venture.
(“Won’t we draw the attraction of the mermaids here, though?” she asked as they started to strip down to their skivvies on the ship’s deck before they transformed, listing one of her many concerns.
“Perhaps, but they tend to congregate on the other side of the island; and given that they can’t quite drown either of us, they won’t have much interest.”
“I thought this place was supposed to run on happy thoughts, not morbid ones?”
“Really, Emma? Why do you insist on still believing what Barrie wrote, when you’ve spent far more time here than he ever did and you’re well aware of the disservice he did to my dashing self?”)
Even Killian had seemed overwhelmed at first, but eventually, they got to hunting. She’d seen a drawing of what they were looking for, but apparently, no one had ever taken a camera down here. But what she could remember was a white flower with what looked like a dark section in the middle of its petals.
As they searched, he pointed out various other fish and wildlife, usually commenting on how they tasted (“The giant shrimp are quite the delicacy, but the rainbow trout left some things to be desired.”). But no sign of the lily, and eventually, they reached the cusp of a dropoff.
“Do you think it might be down there?” she asked, peering into the deep blue oblivion.
“It’s Neverland and it’s rare magic; it’s most definitely hidden down there.”
Gripping Killian’s hand with one of hers and the magic satchel Regina lent her in the other (even though it was tied around her waist—can never be too safe here), they slowly swam over the edge and down.
Sure enough, growing on many rocky ledges jutting out from the stone wall of the dropoff, were a massive variety of lily-like flowering plants, drifting lazily in the current and in every color of the full spectrum of colors.
“It’s white, right?” she verified as she scanned the array while they swam over it.
“Aye; just be careful that you don’t—”
“Is that it?” she interrupted, a bright flash of white catching her eye. With a quick squeeze of his hand, she dove to where she saw it, nestled in with some red flowers. When she got close, she noted that it almost fit the drawing exactly: white, with a dark blue section dividing the petal. Well, this was easier than I thought it would be.
Too late, she heard Killian’s warning shout of, “No, Emma—not that one!” But she’d already grabbed it at the stem and pulled, releasing a shimmery, inky substance that she inadvertently inhaled.
summary: Emma Swan has a stressful job and a demanding family, and sometimes she just needs to unwind. Killian Jones is always willing to help out when he gets a distress call.
Emma Swan nods a thanks when the
waitress places her order in front of her. Exhaling slowly, she can
already feel a bit of the tension dissolve and seep from her
shoulders, trickle out of her mind. She closes her eyes and blends
out the cacophony of sounds in the dimly lit bar. A vague whiff of
air brushing her skin and a familiar smell indicate that someone has
slipped into the booth beside her.
“Hello, beautiful,” says a low
accented voice.
With her eyes still closed, she smiles
and pushes one of the two tumblers over to the newcomer before she
finally turns to look at him. “Jones,” she greets back and
reaches for her own drink, “pleasure.”
He smirks. “That you can count on.”
She snorts a little laugh and raises
her glass to him. “I hope so.”
He tilts his head and touches his
tumbler to hers with a soft, clinking sound. They both take a sip,
and their stares lock across their glasses. Suddenly Emma finds the
temperature in the room has risen a few degrees; not that this is a
surprise to her – that’s what Killian Jones does. That’s why she’s
meeting him here regularly. She hums as the spiced dark rum warms her
throat, leaving that familiar sharp sweetness on her tongue. Raising
an eyebrow at her sound, he puts down his glass and slowly runs his
tongue across his full bottom lip, a move that’s always bound to glue
her gaze to his mouth, and he knows it.
“So,” he finally drawls, “how… urgent is it?” The minute pause and the emphasis on the word urgent charge the air between them. Emma feels a blush rise in
her cheeks and is very grateful for the dim lights.
They hardly get a moment to themselves and Emma’s sure her mother’s designed it this way – some sort of penance for what she walked in on this morning, but really that was Snow’s fault for not knocking when she knew exactly what sorts of things newly engaged couples like to, well, engage in. There’s this iconic Storybrooke building and that memorable spot and so much walking, walking, walking and Emma’s sort of not joking when she suggests they elope.
She wants this, a big wedding and her happy family, her happy beginning, but God if her parents start bickering one more time she’s going to scream.
“You know I’d elope with you in a heartbeat,” Killian says, gladly indulging in her need to tuck herself up against him in the big empty town hall while her parents excuse themselves to argue in private and Henry ducks into the hall to text Violet. Emma nods, shifting her head slightly so she can breath him in; he certainly doesn’t smell like he took a quick and bracing shower, in fact he still smells vaguely like sweat and sex and damn him if that isn’t doing things to her insides. “Just you and me, the lad as witness, the Jolly Roger…”
“A barrel of rum,” she agrees. “Though we’d have to drop Henry off before we honeymoon.”
“Aye. No use scarring the lad.”
“Not more than we already have.”
He chuckles and it vibrates up through his chest, rumbling in her ear and making her feel all gooey. What she wouldn’t give to just drag him back to the house… “I daresay the boy will want to spend less time with us in the coming weeks. Or months.”
~Please don’t Tweet Please don’t Tweet please don’t Tweet Please don’t Tweet~ if it’s on Twitter, I didn’t put it there. Again please don’t tweet, don’t repost anywhere. I do not feel comfortable showing the actors. It would be like me reading them your NC17 chapter fanfic. Here’s the rest of my ouat fanart.
After Calypso’s curse sends everyone back to the Enchanted Forest, Hook comes upon the realization that he is the only one who still has his memories. While reminiscing about pivotal moments in his relationship with Emma, he quickly arranges a plan to find her and convince her their True Love is the only way to break the curse.
Huge thank you to the wonderful @cshappybeginning for the amazing poster she’s created for this fic!
Since Tumblr sucks and there are these messy symbols, I advise you to read this chapter on AO3 and FF.net.
Enchanted Forest – Present Day
The
familiar fishy odor of the pier invaded Killian’s nostrils as his eyes settled
on the small, brick houses he hadn’t seen in a long time. He still couldn’t
believe that bloody witch had tricked them all and cast a curse on them, but
staring at old houses sure wouldn’t solve a thing.
“Emma!”
he knew looking around the Jolly would be fruitless, but he still couldn’t help
but let his eyes wander the deck. He heaved an annoyed sigh when all he saw was
an ashamed Smee sitting on one of the trapdoors, trying to hide a piece of
bread and cheese behind his back.
“Captain, I
swear I was just stopping for a breath,” he used his free hand to clean some
breadcrumbs off his bearded chin before sending Killian a curious look. “Who is
Emma?”
After Calypso’s curse sends everyone back to the Enchanted Forest, Hook comes upon the realization that he is the only one who still has his memories. While reminiscing about pivotal moments in his relationship with Emma, he quickly arranges a plan to find her and convince her their True Love is the only way to break the curse.
Huge thank you to the wonderful @cshappybeginning for the amazing poster she’s created for this fic!
Since Tumblr sucks and there are these messy symbols, I advise you to read this chapter on AO3 and FF.net.
Enchanted Forest – Present Day
The
familiar fishy odor of the pier invaded Killian’s nostrils as his eyes settled
on the small, brick houses he hadn’t seen in a long time. He still couldn’t
believe that bloody witch had tricked them all and cast a curse on them, but
staring at old houses sure wouldn’t solve a thing.
“Emma!”
he knew looking around the Jolly would be fruitless, but he still couldn’t help
but let his eyes wander the deck. He heaved an annoyed sigh when all he saw was
an ashamed Smee sitting on one of the trapdoors, trying to hide a piece of
bread and cheese behind his back.
“Captain, I
swear I was just stopping for a breath,” he used his free hand to clean some
breadcrumbs off his bearded chin before sending Killian a curious look. “Who is
Emma?”
cshappybeginning 