cs brides


favourite tropes + THE PRINCESS AND THE PIRATE

She’s a princess and he’s a pirate. Maybe he’s less of the parrot and pegleg variety, and just a rebel, or a thief. Maybe she’s not Disney so much as a Rebellious Princess. Heck, maybe she’s not even a princess, but an upper class gal.


«Has it got any sports in it?»

«Are you kidding? Fencing, fighting, torture, revenge, giants, monsters, chases, escapes, true love, miracles.»

«Doesn’t sound too bad. I’ll try and stay awake.»

Things I Love Too Much



Pride and Prejudice

Fuzzy Socks/Socks in General

Back Rubs

Ed Sheeran 

Tight Hugs

Harry Potter 

Captain America 

The Princess Bride

Brooklyn Nine-Nine

Purposely Misusing Slang 

Making People Laugh

Monty Python

My Friends

My Family

Being Wrapped in Warm Blankets

Star Wars

Lord of The Rings/Hobbit 

People Braiding/Playing With My Hair

Making People Happy/Feel Good

Making Other People Uncomfortable

Making Situations Awkward 


Literally Anything By C. S. Lewis

Or E. L. Konigsburg 

Disney Movies 

Children (I work with Kids, don’t make it weird)

Buying Presents for People


The Newsies 



Ice Cream

Word/Trivia Games



That weird Grinch video where he’s doing yoga and then screams

That “College” song video where she screams


The name James


Kentledge Hall

Chapter One

A penniless dock worker inherits a title and his family’s destitute estate. In order to save the house and grounds, he puts an ad in the paper for a wealthy wife from the United States. The damaged Emma Swan is desperate for a new start anywhere but New York. Together, will they save Kentledge Hall?

Thank you to the gorgeous @ofshipsandswans for the amazing cover work!

Rated M – Chapter One contains non-con/rape

Read it on AO3

New York City - December 31st, 1915

Awash in several glasses of Champagne, eighteen year-old Emma Swan had been easily tantalized into the Conservatory at the Vanderbilt Mansion during a New Year’s celebration, ringing in the promises of 1916. Despite the December chill, there was a lingering warmth in the Conservatory.

The young society darling and her date were surrounded by all manner of exotic plants and flowers, blooming in the moonlight. She, herself, was the most colorful thing in the room; she wore a gown of gold and black, covered with a wine-tinted gauze and cinched at the waist with a decorative band of gilded embroidery and mother-of-pearl. Her moonlit hair was tucked into a pile of curls, secured with a large gilded comb bedecked with pearls.

Neal Cassidy, a young, handsome attorney from Delaware, was her tuxedoed date for the evening’s festivities and they had just managed to ditch Emma’s tipsy aunt Regina Mills back in the ballroom downstairs.

Emma giggled with delight as Neal swung her around the tiled floor of the room, his arm wrapped around her back. They were dancing much closer than they would have been allowed at the party. She closed her eyes as Neal bowed his head to place kisses along the side of her neck, a smile spreading over her lips.

“Mmm,” Emma moaned softly, sliding her fingers between his. “You really shouldn’t do that, you know.”

Neal chuckled and let his lips find hers. He walked her backward until her calves came to a stop against the end of a chaise longue. “Why shouldn’t I?” He asked against her lips. “I’m going to marry you, Emma, my dear.”

The idea made her giddy. A grand wedding with all sorts of fanfare and a milky-white gown of everything in the finest, her best friends all with large bouquets of white roses and lily-of-the-valley…it was everything Emma wanted. And Neal was such an entertainment to her over the past few months. Lavish dinners, ferry rides, and even a day at Luna Park in Brooklyn where he had won her a small pink porcelain figurine. He really knew how to woo a girl. He grasped her by the waist and carefully laid her back onto the chaise, taking a seat dangerously close to her.

“Neal,” Emma whispered, blushing profusely, “no, stop that…someone will see you and think the worst.”

“With me, it will hardly be the worst, darling. Don’t you want me, Emma?” He asked. The music downstairs grew louder, and Emma knew they must be nearing midnight.

“After we marry, of course,” she insisted, moving her hands to his shoulders to push gently.

Keep reading


jenmorrisonlive: Day 101: Emma’s wedding gown! So much love and thought went into this dress. Just as #onceuponatime pulls from fairytales and literature - for the wedding, Eddy, Adam, Edwardo, and I felt it would be wonderful to pull from the real life fairytale of Grace Kelly. It is a dress that represents the elegance and simplicity of classic timeless strength mixed with the delicacy of feminity and vulnerability. It is the ultimate balance that Emma has been fighting for throughout the 6 seasons. A wholeness. A balance. Not all one thing or another - But rather, a moment that is genuinely, truly, authentically her without barriers and walls. A woman surrounded by people she loves and is loved by, willing to fight to protect them all as well as herself. The joy of a timeless balance. So honored to wear such a beautiful gown. Edwardo and his team created a piece of art once again. The perfect way to end this round of #101smiles #emmaswan #wedding #uglyducklings

(via Instagram)

Kentledge Hall

Chapter Sixteen

A penniless dock worker inherits a title and his family’s destitute estate. In order to save the house and grounds, he puts an ad in the paper for a wealthy wife from the United States. The damaged Emma Swan is desperate for a new start anywhere but New York. Together, will they save Kentledge Hall?

@ofshipsandswans is the talented creature who created the cover art, and she also created 1, 2, 3 corresponding moodboards!

@lenfaz @kmomof4@accio-ambition @rubyrose82@chrissascorner@wellhellotragic@ultraluckycatnd @krystalsficpage@anouj112@onceuponaprincessworld @killlihan-jones @ofwhitewolvesswansxpirates

Let me know if you want tagged on these updates!

Rated M

Catch up on AO3

June 1918, Westminster Abbey, London

“And for bravery under heavy enemy fire,” the Prime Minister announced from his podium, “we award the Bronze Cross to The Most Honorable Marquess Killian Bertram Jones, Lord Matlock.”

There was a smattering of applause as a visibly nervous Killian stepped up before Lord Lloyd-George and bowed his head to accept the medal as it was placed around his neck. With a slight smile he stood and turned to face the crowd. Emma sat in the second row, dabbing lightly at the corner of her eye as she watched her husband accept the award from the highest levels of the English government.

Killian glanced at his wife, adorned in her sparkling tiara and a modest gown of cream-colored satin. She seemed to shine like the sun. Resisting the urge to wink, he carefully took his seat once more at the side of the church as the ceremony continued.

Following the pomp and circumstance, Emma moved to Killian’s side and slid her arm into his. “You were wonderful,” she cooed into his ear.

“Sweating like a hog,” he whispered back to her through clenched teeth as another fellow peer approached to make small talk.

“You’ll be just fine,” she smirked and rubbed at his wrist in an attempt to calm his nerves. She watched as her husband, a former working man, easily navigated his way through conversations with the highest of society. She was exceedingly proud of him. His transition had been amazing. She had watched him from the day he first fumbled to serve tea at their meeting, to parties where he had to bite his tongue, now to becoming a decorated member of the upper crust. Despite the change in his circumstances, Killian had retained a good heart and maintained the estate so that it thrived in the war-torn economical climate.

“Lovely pair, the two of you make,” the Duke smiled at the both of them, who gave blushing nods in return. “A fine example of the very best English breeding.”

The Duke wandered off after a brief conversation, and Emma took the chance to assist Killian in making an escape. They walked quickly in the direction of the exit, with Emma giggling under her breath. “Probably shouldn’t burst his bubble about ‘very best English breeding’.”

Keep reading

I’m Going To Hold This Over Your Head For A Very Long Time

A/N: Just a little something light and fluffy to fill the cracks in your broken heart after that season finale.


They sit on the couch together, arms wrapped around each other. The room is dark save for the light of the tv. Tissues litter the floor around their feet and empty mugs of various sizes sit empty on the coffee table. 

“Shall I make you more tea?” Killian asks, his eyes concerned as Emma sneezes, hand clutching her chest, feeling it in her lungs. 

“I’m fairly certain there is more tea in my body then blood,” Emma says, her voice thick with sickness. 

The end credits begin to role and David sighs dramatically from upstairs. 

“That is the seventh time today!” he exclaims. “Thank God that’s over.”

Emma snuggles her head against Killian’s chest, holding on tight to him as her body shakes. One arm around her shoulders he’s pulls the blanket up over her lap with his free hand. 

“Can you hit play again?” she asks softly. 

Killian could practically quote the movie back to her now, possibly even do a one man show. But he nods, pressing his lips against her burning hot forehead, and picking up the remote to replay the movie. 

“Please, no!” David cries. “It is three o’clock in the morning!” 

“Remember that time-”


That you stabbed me in the back and killed me?!” 

“It was a different reality! Let it go!” 

“I died!” 

“Oh my gosh!”

Killian hits the button and the opening music blares downstairs. 

“Buttercup was raised on a small farm in the country of Florin.” 

“Deal with it, Dave!”