Summary: Lt. Commander Emma Swan and Commander Killian Jones, both of the USS Misthaven, have been having secret rendezvous for the past few years. Not just lovers, they’re imzadi—not quite soulmates, but not far from that either. Maybe someday they’ll reveal the depth of their feelings for one another. But today, they’re just going to have another secret meeting, like they always do. (A CS Star Trek: TNG AU)

A/N: It’s time for my annual self-indulgent birthday fic! This Star Trek AU (based on Riker & Troi) has been in the works for YEARS but I finally got it done in the last couple of days. For those familiar with Star Trek canon, I take some liberties for the purposes of telling this story, but I tried to stay true to the mythos. Thanks to @optomisticgirl​ for the quick beta!!! Enjoy!

rated M | 5.1 k words | AO3

“Dismissed, Lieutenant.”

“Yes, Captain.”

Lt. Commander Emma Swan, security chief of the USS Misthaven, nodded at her captain’s order and exited the bridge. She was off duty for the next 12 hours and knew exactly how she planned on spending the majority of them—assuming the person she was hoping to spend them with was also amenable to that plan. And she had a feeling he would be. (He always was, at least.)

She entered the vacant turbolift and gave the verbal command to the crew quarters’ level; she knew he’d be easy to convince, but she had to find him first.

The lift stopped before reaching her destination, and the door opened to let another passenger on board—and there he was: Commander Killian Jones, first officer of the ship, and brother of the captain. Half Betazoid, half human; completely attractive—and completely aware of it. There was no way the disheveled style of his dark hair or the length of his gingery scruff were up to Starfleet code, and honestly, no one should look as good as he did in his teal and black uniform—all lean muscle and swagger. It was infuriating. 

And it would probably bother her more if she wasn’t aware of the fact that he could back it up, and all too well. 

“Swan,” he greeted as he boarded the lift, stopping in front of her. 

“Jones,” she answered, looking him right in the eye. Honestly, those were her favorite of his features, even more than his elf-like ears and incredible backside. Betazoid people naturally had black irises, but he’d inherited some incredible blue ones from his human mother that were complemented even more by the color of his uniform. It sounded cliche, but the best way she could describe them was as the color of the sea—and like the sea, they changed.

They were a clear, bright blue when he was happy; a cool blue-gray when he was distressed; and when he was experiencing a very strong emotion, either his own or someone else’s, they disappeared into the black of his pupils. Being half-Betazoid meant Killian was an empath: not only extra attuned to emotions of those around him, but also well aware of his own, and it showed, if you knew what to look for.

And right now, as she stared up at him, with him intently gazing back, she smirked watching them shift from bright aqua to black as night. She loved watching the effect of her own arousal on him.

Thankfully, the door closed behind him at just the right time, and he promptly invaded her space, hand and prosthetic hook coming to rest on her hips while his forehead touched hers. He closed his eyes and in a raspy voice asked, “Swan, what are you doing tonight?”

Her hands came to rest on his shoulders and she gently arched her pelvis forward, just grazing his, but it was enough to draw a stifled moan from him. “You,” she whispered.

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Holiday Subterfuge (CS one-shot)

Emma has been using her imaginary boyfriend as an excuse to get out of work-related socialising all year. But people are getting suspicious, so when it's time for the Christmas party, Emma makes a deal with a friend: he'll call, wearing his scrubs, pretending to be her boyfriend.

It goes reasonably well until Killian Jones shows up.

(Based on several prompts that sort of coalesced into... whatever this is. Yes, I wrote modern AU. 'tis the season, and all that.)

rated G | ~ 2,700 words | read on ao3

This was a mistake. Emma suspected it was a mistake the second she agreed to it, but call her naive, she still had hope.

The plan was simple. She’s been using her non-existent boyfriend who works odd hours as an excuse to get out of after-work get-togethers, team-building trips, invitations to lunch, and every other bonding activity she hates. And it worked perfectly—he’s a doctor, so everyone is always full of understanding and admiration.

Until the annual Christmas party. Which she has known about for weeks in advance, and which they planned especially so that everyone could attend.

And Emma does not have a doctor boyfriend. She doesn’t have any boyfriend.

Enter Victor Whale, a friend of a friend, a man who is more than willing to accept a bottle of whiskey in return for pretending to be her boyfriend via FaceTime. The plan was simple: he calls wearing his scrubs, makes a bit of small talk, and she gets another year of peace and quiet.

Emma is holding her phone, watching Victor chat to her boss, Ingrid, when she becomes aware that someone’s watching her.

She turns—right into Killian Jones.

Keep reading

This one-shot was inspired by a prompt on the CSMM Discord which ended up lending itself to a request made by @cs-rylie after my ‘heatwave’ story A Pirate’s Guide to Surviving the Heat. She wanted to read more about Emma and Killian role playing with him wearing his red vest, so I wrote this as a birthday gift for her. It’s a little late, my friend, but I hope you still like it!

Thank you to @everything-person for sharing the prompt, @motherkatereloyshipper for working her magic to turn Killian into Silver Fox for this story, @kmomof4​ for helping me plot out the story and @hookedmom​ for, you guessed it, being a rock star beta! 

Story summary: Killian Jones loves his wife Emma and his job as a history professor. When Zelena Green joins the department, she makes Killian uncomfortable with her relentless flirting, but she’ll find out that it’s not wise to mess with Mrs. Jones’s man!

Rating: M (for smut)

Words: 9935

Also found on Ao3 and ffn

*********

“Hey, Babe. How was work?” Emma Jones asked her husband of seven months as soon as he walked in the door.

“It was, uh…it was okay,” Killian answered haltingly, crossing the room to kiss her.

She pulled back, studying him. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he shrugged. “What have we planned for dinner?”

She knew a diversion when she heard one and could tell by his body language something was bothering him. “Uh-uh. Nice try, buddy. Did something happen at work today?”

He dropped his eyes and began rubbing at his jaw with his thumb under his chin. Seeing one of his telltale nervous habits, Emma began to get a little worried. She stepped closer to run her hands up his chest, looping her arms around his neck.

“Talk to me, Killian,” she crooned. “You know you can tell me anything.”

He gripped her hips and dragged his eyes up to meet hers. “You know how I told you there was a new professor starting in the history department this week?” At her nod, he continued, “Well, she’s…a bit…flirtatious.”

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I sincerely did not mean to keep anyone waiting this long for another chapter, but all I can really do is apologize and try to be more prompt from here on out. It is summer, so maybe I can actually manage that! ;p

***So many, many thanks to @kmomof4 for being such a super second set of eyes on this and catching silly inconsistencies, logic lapses and typos for me.  I’m indebted for your help and encouragement. ***

Summary: Sheriff Killian Jones has done his best to leave behind a troubled past and bring law and order to the town of Blanchard Ridge. However, when he upholds his duty in the face of the most feared and dangerous outlaw gang in the area, allies are few and he dreads trapping them in the same situation he finds himself. The small Western town is about to become a powder keg, and one lawman, his deputies, and a resourceful woman too stubborn for her own good are all that stand in the way of bloodshed and lawlessness…

Previous chapters can be found here on Tumblr:   Chapter One       Chapter Two   Chapter Three

Or on AO3:  Chapter One    Chapter Two    Chapter Three

Chapter Four

The rooster’s crow the next morning came much too soon for Killian’s liking; especially since, though he would admit it to no one, he’d gotten little sleep or relief from his mind racing with possibilities for how the house of cards stacked precariously around them might come tumbling down at any moment. Once he heard Scarlet’s voice jibing and laughing at Smee about how maybe they ought to fit him with his own apron he cooked so well, Killian roused himself reluctantly. Usually, he had to make sure Will didn’t lie abed, so if he was up and about his usual antics, Killian had almost certainly overslept.

The whole place did smell exceptionally good, Killian conceded, breathing deeply of the mouthwatering aroma of thick-sliced ham sizzling away on the small hob installed in one corner of the jail and the aroma of coffee already brewed and hot in the kettle over the fire. Smee did know what he was about when it came to the vittles, and it had saved them all a hefty amount of change that he would almost certainly have been taking across the street to Mary Nolan’s establishment otherwise.

The deputy in question was at that moment swatting at Will with his spatula; the younger man dodging him easily, when Killian made his way over from his bunk to fetch his mug off the hook on the wall. “Morning, mMates,” he greeted blandly, abruptly canceling the odd game of tag and gaining a reciprocal greeting from each of his deputies in turn as Smee spooned fried potatoes and ham hot off the griddle onto the plate he then held out to his boss automatically.

“Thank you kindly,” Killian spoke sincerely, cutting his eyes to Nightshade, who was pointedly ignoring them. “Did he eat?”

Smee shook his head, clear affront and irritation on his flushed, round features. “Not even a nibble, Cap’n,” he answered, as Killian had expected. It had been the same for the whole of his incarceration. 

“Don’t let it trouble you,” he offered with a shrug. “You’ve done your part and then some, offering him good meals - better’n he’d get out there on the run with his gang. He’ll eat when he’s good and hungry, or he won’t, it’s none of our concern.”

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At twelve-years-old (she thinks), a young, homeless Emma Swan meets a slightly older, homeless Killian Jones. From there, they continue to help each other until they can’t any longer. All she can hope for is that they’ll eventually find their way back to one another.

For @the-darkdragonfly and @donteattheappleshook who always let me yell at them about my ideas and then yell at me back when I finally write them down. I’d be lost without them

Rated M (mildly)

Read on Ao3

Read my other stuff

~~~~

By the age of twelve, Emma Swan felt like she had lived countless lifetimes. 

At least, she assumes she was twelve. She kind of has to guess on her birthday so she also has to guess on her age. 

At the ripe age of twelve, she had grown used to fending for herself, foraging for food whenever she could, learning the best spots to find the leftovers that closing restaurants throw away, avoiding the dangerous shelters. She had learned where it’s safest to sleep, avoiding the unsavory characters about the city and keeping herself as protected as she could. 

And at the ripe age of twelve, she learned never to trust anyone. 

Well, anyone but Killian Jones. 

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Thanks so much for your responses to this story! Just FYI, it’s not necessary to have seen the movie “San Andreas” to enjoy this story, even though certain aspects and scenes are from it.

Please see the previous chapter for the list of people who were instrumental in bringing this story into existence.

The final chapter will be posted either Saturday or Sunday. If the weather we’re expecting comes through tomorrow night and school is closed Friday, it might even be posted then.

Story Summary: On the day Killian and Liam Jones meet Emma Swan, a major earthquake rocks San Francisco and the trio has to help each other survive.

Rating: M

Words: 7021

Chapter 2 of 3

Find the first chapter on Tumblr here

Also on ffn and Ao3

*********

Liam directed Emma as she drove the borrowed SUV through the back streets of San Francisco. It was frustratingly slow going, since there were people and vehicles in their path, and the roads had sustained damage from the earthquakes. 

“Do these quakes happen often?” Killian asked, from the back seat. 

“San Francisco tends to have a few tremors every year, but not as strong as the quakes we had today.” 

“I guess that’s something we’ll have to get used to,” he commented. “That is, if Liam is offered the job.” 

“If there’s a bloody building left where the job is located,” Liam grumbled. “Looks like there’s an obstruction up ahead, lass. Better turn right at the next intersection.” 

“Our building codes are more strict because of the quakes and most of the buildings around here are supposed to be able to withstand them with minimal damage, but nothing is indestructible.” Emma informed them. She reached over and turned on the radio, hitting the tuning button until she located a news station. “Hopefully, we can get some updates.” 

The sound of newscasters talking about the events of the morning filled the car as Liam continued to help Emma navigate. They learned the largest quake measured 6.2 on the Richter Scale and geologists were speculating the strongest one was yet to come, just as Emma predicted. 

The mood in the car was tense as they listened to the reports and watched the chaos happening around them. When Killian noticed that the tie around Liam’s leg was bloodied and knew the wound was still seeping, he suggested stopping at a hospital to get it examined, but Liam barked that they needed to concentrate on getting out of town.

Keep reading

Emma and Killian were perfectly content in their friends-with-benefits, no-strings-attached relationship. But when Emma finds out that she’s pregnant, they’re going to have to figure out how to deal with a very long string.

Thanks to @the-darkdragonfly​ for encouraging me and giving this a once over!

Rated somewhere between T and M for language and implications of sexy stuff

Almost 10k words (but not quite)

Read my other stuff

Read on Ao3

~~~~

It’s typical, really. The way things were going so perfectly, so easily, before everything started to implode… it’s almost poetic. 

 Things with Killian were perfect because of their no-strings-attached policy. He’s too busy with his shop to worry about a relationship, and she’s too young to worry about settling down, so the two of them have found themselves in an unbeatable friends-with-benefits routine. 

 That is… until now, with Emma finding herself on her bathroom floor, dropping her head from the toilet seat with her hand over her belly wondering when the first day of her last period was. At three weeks late, she’s realizing that her perfect bubble is popping far too quickly. 

 She’s bought pregnancy tests before, back in college when she was dating Neal and he somehow messed up putting the condom on which caused it to break. She’s been on birth control ever since, deciding not to take a chance like that again, but as it turns out, a few nights of missing her dose while she was too busy drinking and having sex with her friend (nothing more) can easily lead to misuse. She thought she had taken care of it, thought she had made up for the pills that she missed, but sitting here now with a positive test pinched between her finger and her thumb shows her just how wrong she was. 

 Poor Killian, really. She feels bad for him as much as she does herself. They were both clear with each other about their desires and their plans, and kids were never in the cards for him. He never felt the need to have children, ever since he lost the woman he thought he would marry all those years ago. Plus, he’s older, and she doubts he would be too pleased with the idea of becoming a father at almost forty. 

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A/N: Hello everyone! Here it is. My new CS Supernatural AU MC story! I am so excited for everybody to read this. I want to say a big thank you to @hollyethecurious for being an awesome beta and as always if you would like to be added to my tag list, please let me know!

Tag list:  @hollyethecurious, @resident-of-storybrooke, @kmomof4, @jennjenn615, @pirateherokillian, @enchanted-swans, @superchocovian, @deathbycaptainswan, @winterbaby89, @flicialy23, @kingofmyheart14, @angellifedeath, @facesiousbutton82, @a-faekindagirl, @kymbersmith-90, @ekr032-blog-blog, @laschatzi, @teamhook, @ilovemesomekillianjones, @capswantrue, @bmbbcs4evr, @kday426, @tiganasummertree,, @Ifh1226-linda, @meganhinsley, @xarandomdreamx, @jrob64, @hannahhook7744, @klynn-stormz, @yourebeautifuleverylilpiecelove, @therooksshiningknight, @earanemith, @snowbellewells

Summary:  When a horrible crime is committed and the evidence points to someone in Emma’s coven, Killian is sent to investigate. The two are instantly at odds, but when it looks like he was right, Emma suddenly finds herself and her young son in danger,  she knows that there is only person she can go to for help. As the two work together to prevent a war from breaking out in the supernatural world, they find themselves growing closer.

Prologue 

The only sound that could be heard through the darkness was the crunching of leaves as a  cloaked figure hurried through the woods. They stopped to lean against a nearby tree to catch their breath, knowing that they had to keep going because their destination was close and then they’d be safe. A sudden gust of wind blew through the trees making them tighten the hood of their cloak as they continued forward. 

When they reached a clearing, there stood before them an old abandoned building. “Thank the gods,” they said with a sigh of relief, and quickly ran up the stairs, stopping in front of a huge metal door. Bringing up their hand, they proceeded to knock a sequence on the door.

Stepping back they watched as symbols started to appear on the door as it began to glow. Suddenly, the door slowly opened to reveal a tall horned creature standing in the doorway. It looked down and contemplated them for a few seconds before moving aside to let them through the door. When they made it safely inside they looked around the room at all the various creatures that were there. Vampires, fairies, witches, and other supernatural beings who, under normal circumstances, would be enemies, but here in this safe haven they were all the same. Refugees. 

Many were here because of different reasons, either by being exiled or abandoning their clans, but all were seeking protection, for that’s what this place was… a sanctuary. A place where while within these walls nothing could harm any of them. The cloaked figure walked over to the window and peered into the darkness, looking for any sign that they had been followed. It hadn’t been easy, the decision to flee their clan, but they had to, it was a matter of life or death. 

All of a sudden, they tensed. They could have sworn that they had seen movement through the treeline. It had only been for a split second, but when they did a double take it was gone. Shaking their head they stepped away from the window and went to sit in one of the empty chairs that was in the corner of the room. They were on edge, that was all, and it was causing them to jump at shadows. All they had to do was make it to the local Guard’s community, then they’d truly be safe.

Settling back in the chair they began to feel the events of the night catch up with them. They fought to stay awake but could feel their eyes start to grow heavier and heavier and a second later they were asleep. They awoke to someone shaking them by the shoulders. Their eyes sprang open and they looked up to find a dark haired fairy standing over them.

“Hey. You okay?” The fairy asked. "You sounded like you were having a nightmare." 

Disoriented they sat up slowly, trying to get their bearings. Looking around they see that quite a few pairs of eyes were on them. “Yeah. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bother anyone,” they said, standing up.

“That’s okay!” The fairy said. “It must have been some dream with the way you were calling out.”

They tried to recall what had happened in their dream but couldn’t really remember anything other than a feeling of dread. Before they could respond, they heard screaming coming from the other side of the room. They rushed over to the window where the commotion was coming from and what they saw froze them to the core.. Flames were climbing up the side of the building and smoke was starting to seep through the walls. This shouldn’t be happening, they thought, nothing is supposed to be able to penetrate these walls.

They looked around at the chaos that was unfolding. Everyone was running towards the entrance where the horned doorman was frantically trying to open the door, with no success, while others tried breaking the windows to no avail. Suddenly a terrible feeling washed through them as they turned back toward the window. They raised their hands up to the glass and closed their eyes in concentration. A few seconds later they let out a horrified gasp and their eyes sprang open. Dark magic. They could feel it’s inky blackness cocooning itself around the building. 

At that moment they knew they were all trapped  and that nobody would be getting out of here alive. As the smoke began to thicken and the fire started growing larger, movement from outside caught their attention. They peered through the window and saw a figure standing on the edge of the clearing. Their blood ran cold, they thought that they’d been careful and that nobody had followed them but they were wrong and now because of them, everyone was doomed. The noise around them had grown silent, no screaming or struggling could be heard and when they glanced behind them, they saw bodies littering the floor through the smoke. 

Turning back to the window they saw the figure hold an object up and speak into it. Immense pain went through them, like their insides were being crushed, like someone had a vice grip around their heart. As their hands went to grasp at their chest, their eyes flew up to meet the figures. All they saw before they collapsed onto the floor and their life left them, was a wicked, evil smile. 

Here I am (finally) with the next-to-last part of this little Roman Holiday AU. This was originally writen for the @captainswanmoviemarathon but I feel like I have strung it out such a ridiculously long time now that I ought to apologize to all who have been reading along and waiting for updates. I truly am sorry, but hopefully this extra long chapter will somewhat make up for the wait. (I won’t mention the angsty ending right now…) There will be one more part - an epilogue of sorts - to follow; hopefully in the not-too-distant future.

*~Oh, and an extra tag for @donteattheappleshook, because Tumblr sometimes likes to hide her writing from me and mine from her for some crazy reason. And because her invaluable enthusiasm for this story has been wonderful motivation to keep me plugging away at it! ~*

by: @snowbellewells 

Summary:  Crown Princess Emma is on her first solo goodwill tour, and as much as she wants to do her duty and make her family proud, sometimes she just wishes she could live an ordinary life. When she takes the chance to spend a day on her own in Rome, and a lucky chance encounter makes it all the more sweet, will she ever want to return?

From the beginning: On Tumblr     On AO3

Part Four

Though she had already accepted the fact that this day of freedom, this chance to explore as she wished, as if she were any other normal person, would be over all too soon, for Princess Emma it seemed the afternoon melted away; the hours fleeing in what felt like seconds. She and Jones had continued to sightsee, roaming over the ancient cobblestones, conversing with street performers and vendors - even, with laughable results, attempting to ride a Vespa.

It had quickly become clear she would not get the hang of that in a day, and so, instead she found herself seated behind Killian on the motorbike as they zipped along the side streets on their borrowed ride, wind rushing along her arms and through her newly-shorn hair as she clung to his waist. She let out a squeal of exhilaration and pure joy that the wind speeding by stole away, but she could feel his chuckle through his back, where she rested her flushed cheek as he began to slow, coming back to the Vespa’s owner once more.

As he was offering the Princess his hand to help her off the bike, a flustered young man, hair cropped close to his scalp and brash accent breaking through the Italian which had been weaving a spell around them all day. “Oi, Jones! There you are, ya scoundrel,” he called, hurrying up to them on the sidewalk. “Where’ve ye been, Mate?”

Killian clearly knew the other man, for he huffed out a breath and shot him a quelling look before offering Emma an apologetic sort of smile and guiding her to the sidewalk with a hand at the small of her back as the Italian youth wheeled his bike off the way they had come.

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Summary: Killian Jones lost a lot in Viet Nam—his brother, his hand, his sobriety, and his sanity. He has little hope of reclaiming the last two, until a chance encounter with a little boy—and, more specifically, his fierce mother—at a war protest sets him on a new path.

A/N: It’s finally here—my contribution to CS Historical Fics 2021 ( @cshistfic​ )! I’m definitely a history nerd, and I’ve always had the idea for a story involving jaded Vietnam vet Killian meets single mom Emma at a protest, and this event was the perfect opportunity to bring that to life. Thank you to the organizers of the event for putting this on! (And be sure to check out the other stories in it!) Warning: this story involves PTSD and alcoholism. But it does have a happy ending. (Title comes from “Strawberry Fields Forever” by The Beatles)

rated T | 11.1k words | AO3

It wasn’t the largest protest by any means—no march on Washington, no sit-in, nothing particularly uproarious—but it still wasn’t small; this was New York, after all. The dozens or so of dedicated young adults did take up a decent amount of their patch of grass in Central Park, holding signs and chanting slogans that all supported the statement carefully, though clearly hand-painted, on the banner behind them:

END THE WAR IN VIET NAM

They made enough noise to drown out the din of traffic from the city beyond the trees of the park, but were still situated in a well-enough traveled area to make a statement, even if half their audience was wide-eyed tourists and the other half was jaded Manhattanites. 

Killian Jones, from the view of his park bench, was probably more aligned with the former group, though that didn’t mean he didn’t appreciate their drive and optimism. He didn’t think it would work—that they really only had half an idea of what they were trying to achieve.

But maybe, if he hung around them enough, some of that hope would rub off on him. Because it had been a damn long time since he’d had any.

At least, it felt like that. In reality, it had hardly been a year since his discharge; three since he first deployed. But in those few years, he’d lived a lifetime. 

He was of age with the protesters, more than likely, yet still felt like an old man shaking his head at the folly of youth. Those trust fund college kids would never know what it was like there, in the jungle—the thick air, the long marches, the bombs the bombs the bombs the b—

He shook his head; if he followed down that train of memory, it’d take ages to get out of it, and he was actually having a good day for a change. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t still be stopping at the bodega by the subway entrance to pay a visit with his friend Captain Morgan (or one of his other, cheaper brethren). But he didn’t need to head for the bottle…yet. Not until his one remaining hand started shaking, so he was alright thus far.

Commotion surrounding one of the park’s trash cans caught his eye; a group of young men were gathered around it, each one sticking the corner of a piece of paper into their lighters and laughing while the sheet went up in flames, letting the ashes fall into the bin below.

Killian couldn’t help but scoff. They could burn those draft cards all they wanted; if their number came up, Uncle Sam wouldn’t take no for an answer.

Perhaps the college kids were a bit smarter than him in that regard, though—he’d actually signed up for the military voluntarily, determined to follow his big brother Liam’s steps and make a name for themselves. Yet all it had wrought him was a lovely case of post-Vietnam syndrome, a medical discharge, and a spot on a waiting list for a prosthesis where his left hand used to be.

At least he’d made it out. Liam’s body never even got out of the jungle. (The official designation was “missing in action”, but—Killian saw what happened; felt the heat of the flames. He knew. And he relived it every night, waking up screaming and sweat-soaked in his secondhand sheets.)

Technically, he was being treated by the VA, and had check-ins and appointments every so often. Normally, he was seen in Brooklyn, where he lived, but there was a day several weeks ago when the phantom pains got too bad to bear and the overladen clinic had no openings, so he had to make the trek out to the Manhattan building. He was taking a walk through the park after, killing time before his train home, when he stumbled upon the small but dedicated rally. 

And, for some inexplicable reason, he kept coming back. He was frankly out of fucks to give when it came to considering why. But it was a nice break from the monotony of liver abuse and spinning old 45s on repeat.

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