cs good times

literally everything about cs makes me angry bc it’s just built on breaking down the very real issues and insecurities emma has as an adult who grew up in the foster system and saying : “hey this doesn’t matter, what matters is that you open yourself to me, that you love me, that you move in with me, that you marry me” it’s just all about hiding emma, and the issues that make her real and relatable to many people, and being like hey, just ignore the fact that you have child hood trauma, that you might have issues opening up with people, I’m not going to wait and build trust with you, I’m going to tear down your walls and pursue you aggressively until you let me in. and just, like ignoring the way hook emotionally abused her, and played on the insecurities that she never even got to explore as a character bc the show is misogynistic and constantly down plays female characters to put their focus on main pain, ignore all of that, the show still at the very base is trying to tell the message that bc hook loves her, nothing else matters. bring your excuses, “he was dark”, “he didn’t mean it, he loves her”, “he cares about her too much, so that’s why he lies to her, that’s why he constantly goes behind her back”. yeah sorry, i’m not all about that, i love emma swan way too much

you are the sea, upon which i float (cs one-shot)

summary: emma passes by killian every morning on her daily run. she’s never spoken to him all that much, but of course she goofs up and accidentally runs into him. literally.

wc: 2.2k or so.

a/n: yeah no i haven’t written in forever, forgive me as i need to get back into the groove of things. (also on ao3)


Her mornings are the same rinse and repeat process. While she dreads getting up early, she does it anyway, and if anything, it’s merely to fit in the morning run she takes across the beach and to the docks before taking a turn home to shower and get ready for the rest of her day as Sheriff of Storybrooke.

But to be honest, there’s nothing ever to really be worried about in this small town.

And no, she totally doesn’t sacrifice sleeping in for the hot guy — Killian Jones — she passes every time during her hot run. No, she doesn’t notice the way his short sleeve shirt clings to his skin or the way sweat droplets roll down his skin. Emma doesn’t care about the way his hair is plastered to his forehead slightly and the way his lips are just parted as he exhales.

(Perhaps she’s a tad insane.)

It’s not like she talks to him, though. They nod and smile at each other, perhaps change a silent hello as they both have motivational music blasting into their ears, but never once have they really spoken. And yet, it feels like she knows him plenty already just from observing him. Not just while he runs, but the occasional times of noticing him at work on his ship or seeing him at Granny’s. Sometimes she might just be eyeing him from afar, taking notice of the stubble that runs along his jaw, accentuating the sharpness.

And god forbid her from speaking about his voice. Gentle and smooth.

(She’s in over her head, for Christ’s sake.)

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And all of the steps that led me to you
       And all of the hell I had to walk through
             But I wouldn’t trade a day for the chance to say
                                                                           My love, I’m in l o v e with you

It Runs in the Family

A little bit for @fangirlforlife2448 who wanted Henry walking in on CS like Emma and Henry walked in on Snowing in season 2.

Crack-ish, semi-smutty fluff with a tiny dose of naval-gazing (literal and figurative) coming up, Hayley! I hope you like it!

1.8k, Rated M for nipple.

She burrows her nose into Killian’s chest, watching the gauzy white curtains flutter over their perfect view of the sunrise, curls her toes into the cool cotton of their bed sheets, and wonders when she got so lucky.

His arm is warm against her bare back and the beat of his heart is solid and steady under her ear and this is her life now. This is her life.

Killian wraps a disheveled curl around his finger, watching the play of light through the golden strands.

“You know,” he says, “I’ve been thinking.”

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18 weeks of Captain Swan

Week 18. Captain Swan + Best of season 5

My Constellation (1/1)

Summary: Modern AU. Emma is a bailbondsperson, Killian a scientist. His research puts him at sea for several weeks in the summer, and after a slew of lengthy separations, this one just about pushes them past their limits.

Rated: M

Warnings: Smut

Words: ~11.5k

Notes: This fic is a gift for the wonderful @high-seas-swan​. Lana, the second the new NEEDTOBREATHE album came out, I sifted through it, found a song that I liked just a touch more than the others, played it on repeat, and wrote this over the course of the past several weeks. I hope you like it! Also, never-ending love and devotion to @capaldisrighteyebrow​, without whom this would be a mess. Just a note, this is in no way related to the other smutty science fic I wrote.  Inspired by the months I’ve spent living alone by the sea.

Also on ff and ao3


Killian Jones had once convinced a woman that it was the moments that were worth living. That letting them pass by was a terrible mistake.

Years and years had passed, during which they’d both loved and lost. Out on a bench by the sea, she’d tell him of the parents who abandoned her not long after she was born. He, in turn, would tell her of his mother, of his brother, before they too passed. Together they spent their formative, teenage years in a system that, frankly, didn’t care much for them. They’d been separated by circumstances and by passion – he pursuing degrees in the marine sciences, and she as an independent enforcer of the law – before they’d met again in the cobblestone streets of Portland, Maine. They’d reacquainted with one another over the next few years, as he made a career of keeping the research programs aboard research vessels running, and she as a familiar face in southern Maine and New Hampshire.

Then, one unforgettable evening, she’d conceded that, perhaps, he had a point. Not with words, mind, but with her lips on his, pressing hard and wet against him in the dwindling hours of twilight. Just moments after he’d stepped off a research vessel, as a matter of fact, with a tan up to his elbows, salt in his hair and in his lungs. She’d kissed him while the sun painted the waters at his back, while the behemoth of a ship beside them rumbled down deep in its steely belly.

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18 weeks of Captain Swan

Week 14. Captain Swan + Underworld