#effulgentcolors

[princess-and-the-swan]

One-Shot Fic Rec: On Outstanding Roommates

By effulgentcolors | Rating: T

Based on this tumblr prompt: "you've been sleeping at mine because your house is being renovated and we aren't even dating, yet every time you wake up to the baby crying and sigh, "i'll go" i feel like we might as well be married."

Read it on AO3

[frauleinsmaria]

Meredith’s Favorite Fic Moodboards

The Wife by @effulgentcolors

No one knows all that Emma has been through and certainly no one knows all that Killian has been through and being husband and wife doesn’t make them any less unknown to each other. And really, how can you help someone heal when you don’t even know how hurt they are?

Happy belated birthday @effulgentcolors! I’m so sorry I wasn’t able to get this finished and posted on your birthday, but I’m a firm believer in birthweeks, so maybe I’m still on time by that standard? Regardless, I hope you had a wonderful birthday, and wanted to express just how grateful I am that you’re a part of this fandom. The beautiful stories you’ve shared with us are some of my favorites that I’ve ever read, and The Wife is no exception. It’s just wonderful in so many ways I can’t even properly put into words. Admittedly, I’m getting a wee bit emotional just thinking about how close we are to the ending, but I’m so excited to see how the rest of Emma and Killian’s story unfolds, and know I’ll be rereading it often after it’s done 💗

[welllpthisishappening]

Hey, love, if you'd still like some prompts may I order - Friends with benefits and both people catching feelings + “Good morning, handsome”

I am absolutely still accepting prompts and this is a very good one because, here’s a fun fact, I have never written friends with benefits before. I know, right? That’s like...some prime tropes for me. So you have hit the prompt jackpot. That gif is almost relevant! This got long again! Here we go:

----

She’s commandeered his Spotify. 

He’s not sure when it started –– maybe around the first time she did, actually, spend the night, but there is now, almost always, music in his apartment. It’s never the same playlist on back to back days. They switch from 80s hair bands to 60s Motown to songs that make her blush slightly, the tip of her tongue pressed to the corner of her mouth because these are kind of lame, I know, but those ones may actually be Killian’s favorite and they always seem to make Emma’s hips sway just a bit more. 

And he does, after all, have a habit of staring a bit at Emma’s hips. 

And all of her, really. That’s part and parcel of the deal, he supposes. The deal, of course, is this, whatever it is they’re doing. There’s not a technical term for it, really, mostly because he’s not all together sure how they did, actually, start. 

He’s not sure of a lot of things at this point. 

All he remembers is the way her lips parted and the soft way she’d sigh against his ear as soon as his mouth trailed along her neck and something inside of him seemed to snap at that point because Killian wasn’t altogether sure what he would do if he didn’t hear that sound again. 

So, there’s no name. There’s no rhyme or reason to it. It just is. They send texts and appear at each other’s door and duck into dark corners when their friends go out. They chase moments and opportunities and they don’t talk about it. 

They talk about other things. They talk about his day at school or the latest skip she’s trying to catch. They talk about what they’re going to watch on Netflix and what to order that night and there’s something oddly normal about it, as normal as those first, few heady kisses were and--

“Oh fuck,” Killian breathes, a shaky step forward, halfway between his living room and kitchen. There’s music playing. 

He snaps his head up, mouth suddenly going dry and whatever is happening in the pit of his stomach isn’t entirely unexpected or uncomfortable. It might be a goddamn disaster, but it’s not those other things. 

It’s--he lets her use his Spotify. 

Emma’s standing in the kitchen, the refrigerator door open, a soft hum that’s definitely coming from her and not the slightly antiquated appliance. Whatever is happening to his stomach starts happening in double time. 

Like it’s matching the rhythm of the music. 

“Nothing,” she mutters, but there’s no frustration there and he can feel his eyes widen when she spins around. She’s wearing his shirt. And no pants. The music may be getting louder. “Good morning, handsome,” Emma quips, kicking the door closed behind her and it would probably freak her out if his eyes fell out of his face. 

There’s no appropriate soundtrack for that. 

Emma moves into his space, head still bobbing in time with the music and her fingers are warm when they curl around his forearms. “You ok?”

He nods. He doesn’t answer. There may be something wrong with his tongue.

“Yeah?” Emma presses. “Because, seriously, you don’t look ok. Did you not sleep or something?”

He slept fantastic. He always sleeps fantastic when she’s there, even when she steals some of the blankets and he wakes up goosebumps to find her cocooned in every piece of bedding he owns. That’s been happening often. 

They only made out on the couch last night. 

Like teenagers. Like people who--

Killian lets out a shaky breath, licking his lips like that will make it easier to ruin everything and Emma’s eyes narrow. “Do you want me to guess, or something? Because I’m not doing that until we eat and you have no food.”

“I have food.”

He’s annoyed those are the words he was able to get out.

“Nah, you don’t. There are like...two eggs in there and I’m not sharing two eggs with you and, seriously, when’s the last time you went to the grocery store?”

“It’s finals week, love.”

“Ok, that’s not an answer. I’m worried you’re going to starve to death and--”

Emma gasps when he moves, which...well, that’s fair. It’s all very jerky and sudden and he’s very interested in the sound she makes when his mouth lands on her, halfway between his living room and kitchen. There’s not much food in there, honestly. 

Her arms fly up, fingers curling into the hair at the nape of his neck. He has to shift his weight a bit, rocking back towards his heels when he tries to pull her up, but they don’t end up on the floor and that’s definitely some kind of victory. Killian swears the music is getting louder, but that may be the roaring in his ears and the pitch of emotion in the very center of his being and he may be the one who gasps when Emma nips at his lower lip. 

“If this is some kind of distraction to make me forget how hungry, I am,” she starts, “it’s not going to--”

“--No, no, it’s not that. It’s--”

“--Babe, seriously.”

He nearly drops her. He nearly falls over. His whole body goes limp, like he’s been doused in feelings and there weren’t many rules to this, but feelings were probably one of them and--“What are we doing?”

Emma blinks. Again. And wiggles back onto the floor, which is far too distracting to be fair. “Getting breakfast, I hope.”

“Swan.”

“No, c’mon, that’s...” Her jaw drops when she, presumably, realizes, eyebrows flying into her hairline. “Oh,” she mutters. “That’s---oh.”

Killian’s stomach falls to his feet. And, for a moment, there’s a pause in the music, songs switching, but it feels like an emptiness that wasn’t there a few moments before, stretching out in the rather minimal amount of space between him and Emma. 

She blinks again. 

“Right, right,” she nods. “Right. Ok. That’s. Ok.”

“Swan.”

“No, no, it’s...you know, we didn’t....I need pants.”

She spins –– the wrong direction, moving back towards the kitchen and that shouldn’t be nearly as endearing as it is, but Killian’s having several epiphanies at the same time and he refuses to be held accountable for his thought process. He jerks forward, all but yanking on her wrist in the process. 

Emma glares at him. 

“Please don’t put more clothes on.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“No, I--” Killian grits his teeth, but he’s not sure Emma’s noticed. Her eyes fall to his thumb, brushing an almost rhythmic pattern against the back of her wrist. “I don’t want to fuck this up.”

He watches her swallow, eyes pulling up slowly to meet his and something else in him snaps when he notices how glossy her gaze has turned. “You cut my pizza in half two weeks ago.”

“What?”

“My pizza. We ordered from that place on Union and you said you didn’t want me to get up while we were watching the movie and you brought me one and a half slices of pizza because--”

“--You never actually eat two.”

“Yeah, exactly. And, I...I don’t know. I mean--” She shrugs, tears landing on her cheeks. Killian’s still a little worried about the state of his eyes. “This was supposed to be fun and no expectations, but--God, I...shit, this is why I didn’t say anything.”

His eyes, seriously. 

“Say what, love?”

“I’m going to punch you.”

“That may take away from the romance, really.”

She huffs, still lacking any real frustration, pushing up on her toes and, for a moment, it’s all lips and teeth and tongue and squished noses, trying to occupy the same few inches of space until they’re swaying against each other, falling into a melody they may have been dancing around from the very first song she played in his apartment. 

“I like you,” Emma says. “Like. I like you.”

“I like you too, Swan, quite a bit.”

“Yeah?”

Killian hums, nosing at her slightly damp cheek and kissing away the last tear. “That’s not something you have to confirm.”

“And you don’t have to worry about fucking it up.”

His stomach flies back into its appropriate place. And flips. In something akin to joy. They’re still moving, his hand falling to her waist and her arm slung over his shoulder, smiles and cautious wants and--

“What playlist is this?”

Emma startles at the question, and this third sound may be his favorite. “Early 2000s singers and songwriters.”

“Specific.”

“Good morning music. Calm. Optimistic. Some of that romance you were talking about.” The last few words aren’t more than a sigh, Killian’s mouth back on her neck and her back arches against the hand he’s moved there. “It’s, uh...it’s good music to start something to.”

“Yeah?”

“That’s not something you have to confirm.”

They do, eventually, put clothes on, mostly because he doesn’t have any food and there’s a pretty good diner two blocks away, but only after they spend, at least, twenty minutes making out on his couch. Like teenagers. Who are dating each other. 

[thesschesthair]

alright, so if you do want to try to stretch your CS muscles and this strikes your fancy I'd love something where one of them is jobless or hell even homeless and the other really helps them out and lifts them up (could be AU or canon divergence). Thank you, love!

Thanks for this! I hope it isn’t too bad, it’s been forever lol.

So the lovely @xpumpkindumplingx had the idea of a blackbeard v hook rival distillery fic, which after much chatting became a moonshine rivalry in ye olden days… and ended up with me thinking about a loosely based ‘Lawless’ AU. 

This be a little snippet of Emma seeking a job at the brother’s establishment. I hope you enjoy!

He didn’t want to be doing this. The reason the Jones brother’s business worked so well was because they kept their dealings tight-knit and within the family.

No outsiders.

But with Blackbeard’s latest attack on their moonshine supply, and Sheriff Pentragon hot on their heels, their income had taken quite the knock meaning they’d have to rely on using the gas station and tavern to source their legally earned revenue until things cooled down.

And what better way to keep the town scavengers on their stools and handing over their coin than by hiring a pretty feminine face to run the bar?

Killian was still apprehensive about the idea, but when Miss Swan walked into the tavern first thing that morning with determination, enquiring about work, he took it as a sign.

Which is why they were both now seated at one of the tables.

“What did you do before?”

“Similar stuff. I served liquor and food. Cleaned up and threw out those that got too drunk or too handsy.”

“So you’re a tough lass.”

“As tough as I need to be.”

“I’ve not seen you in town before.”

“I arrived this morning.”

“From where?”

“Crowley.”

“Why’d you leave?”

“With all due respect, Mr Jones, that’s my business.”

“And yet you’re requesting to become a part of mine.”

Killian knew he was possibly being unfair to Miss Swan, her discomfort and frustration was peeking through the neutral and ‘professional’ charade she was putting on, but the more she answered, the more he was intrigued. He also needed to be certain his business and dealings would be safe with her around.

He wanted to find out who the real Miss Swan was.

Dominant footsteps marched across the floorboards as a broad, heavy footed man with a head full of curls appeared “Killian!” He bellowed as he stopped by the table, completely oblivious to the meeting at hand, too busy cocking his rifle to check if it was loaded. “Those bastard wolves are back! Where are my shells?”

“Bottom shelf behind the counter.” Killian responded calmly.

The man finally took in Killian and the lady sitting opposite. He gave her a glance over and a nod, clearly distracted with thoughts elsewhere to greet her properly, before retrieving a box from behind the bar and disappearing out back.

“That’s Liam.” He informed her. “He’s a soft heart but it’s best to keep out of his way when he’s like that.”

Miss Swan nodded, clearly still ruffled by the interrogation she was being given.

There was a moment’s pause before Killian started again.

“You’re probably wondering how I lost this.” he gestured to his left wrist. “And have probably heard rumours about my brothers and I-”

“Mister Jones.” Miss Swan cut him off. “May I be frank?”

“Of course.”

She licked her lips and seemed to be mentally correcting herself before she spoke again.

“I’ve heard of you Jones boys, the rumours, the legends… and with all due respect, I honestly don’t care. It’s none of my business. All I want to know is the menu, the liquor prices and what time to cut someone off. I left Crowley with a train ticket and the clothes on my back for reasons that are my own, but I can assure you it’s nothing that will bring trouble to your door.” She schooled herself, seemingly collecting her thoughts and feeling vulnerable for oversharing. “I just want to work and pay my way so I can start again. If that’s not what you’re looking for, i’ll thank you, bid you a good day and walk right back out that door. You won’t have to see me again.”

Killian sat as she spoke, not showing any emotion. He could tell she was becoming increasingly frustrated at not being able to read him or his thoughts but it had taken years for him to be able to develop such a poker face. It was his gift for these exact times; he could read her like a book and evaluate exactly what kind of person she was.

And he liked her.

She was a no nonsense woman, strong and had a genuine soul. It didn’t take a genius to work out she was running from something, but she valued her privacy and he respected her right to do so. She also seemed to be someone that kept themselves to themselves which he admired greatly.

She was exactly what he was looking for.

Plus she was extremely beautiful, a fact he’d be keeping to himself for the time being.

“So?”

Miss Swan’s prompting shook him from his mental evaluation. It seemed patience was one thing she seemed to be lacking.

“Just one more question, if i may?” she nodded in response. “Where are you staying?”

She faltered, sagging ever so slightly before straightening her back again, her defensive armour in place.

“I’ll be sure to let you know once I figure that out.”

Killian nodded and took a swig of his forgotten glass of rum.

“I’ve a room above the tavern-”

“Mister Jones, if you’re thinking of offering a roof for any kind of favours-”

Killian chuckled as he put his hand up in surrender, stopping her in her tracks.

She had fire, something that would be needed in the evenings when the tavern was filling up.

“Bloody hell, Swan. If you’ll let me finish?”

She deflated somewhat embarrassed by the outburst, but still on guard as she let him continue.

“I’ve a room above the tavern. It’s mostly used for storage as my brothers and I live in the house just behind the gas station. It’s not much but it’s livable. It’s yours for the week. If you happen to make it past a week here, we can then negotiate possibly a 15% reduction from your pay to cover boarding or you’re welcome to find other dwellings in the meantime. Do you accept?”

He put his right hand out calmly, waiting for Miss Swan’s confusion to subside and to shake it. After a moment, she hesitantly accepted, startled when he offered her a small smile.

“Why are you helping me so?”

“Should I not be?” Killian responded amused.

“No, I just-”

“Miss Swan, working here makes you one of us.” he explained with seriousness and sincerity. “And here, we take care of our own.”

On cue, the loud pops of Liam’s shotgun rang through the tavern from the back, followed by the echoes of young Henry’s cheers.

He turned to her slightly curious face with a cheeky grin.

“Welcome to the family.”

“Thank you, Mr Jones.”

Her gratitude hit him right in the chest. It was the first glimpse at the woman behind the tough exterior and her first genuine smile, that had him completely stunned.

“Call me Killian.”

“Emma.” her eyes sparkled with amusement.

She was going to fit right in.

[spartanguard]

She takes a deep breath and looks him in the eyes, imploring him to see the truth in hers and believe it. Killian takes his time, his gaze running over her features – frantically at first, then slower, calmer, until the tightness around his eyes starts to disappear for the first time tonight.

“Because you love me.”

Emma blinks in surprise and feels something inside her settle with a sigh of relief, realizes that, in the back of her mind, this entire conversation felt like him questioning her love – something she thought he believed in, even if he didn’t fully reciprocate it.

But he doesn’t say it like a question, he says it softly, like all the implications of it are only now sinking in.

“Yes. Because I love you. Very much.”

Killian swallows, nods and sits up slightly, and she can feel his chest under her palm and his heart beating steady and true. He cups her cheek and runs his thumb tenderly over her skin and now there is another tightness around his eyes – one that comes with the smile inside them.

“I love you too, Emma.”

Oh.

��from Chapter 16 of The Wife by @effulgentcolors

[I just adored this scene and how much it reminded me of a similar scene from Pride and Prejudice (2005) so...I had to do it. Go read The Wife if you haven’t yet! It’s amazing!]

[emmaswanned]

effulgentcolors replied to your post: Can’t decide if ouat or btvs has the better...

Very very though one but i feel like they did a better job on btvs cuz shockingly it fit the show and plot better than ouat. Plus, omwf barely has a weak song.

I do agree with that. every time I watch or listen to OMWF i’m shocked at just how well it fits the plot. they say through song exactly what they’ve been unable to talk about for the whole season!! 

OUAT did a decent job fitting the songs to the plot but then it does have some random ones like “wicked always wins” that really....don’t need to be there, lol.

[hollyethecurious]

I haz a prompt - CS + shivering *g*

Emma awoke to a strange noise and it took her a few seconds to realize the sound was her teeth chattering from the cold of the forest night. A warm, hard body rolled behind her, pressing itself along her back as a hand snaked its way over her hip and across her belly, coming he rest just beneath her breast. 

“Let me help keep you warm, love.” Killian’s groggy voice, deep and thick from sleep, sent a new kind of shiver over her pebbled skin.

Send me a pairing + a prompt, and I’ll write a 3 (or more) sentence drabble.

[laschatzi]

You are a very nice man, Killian Jones.

Emma Jones, “The Wife”, Chapter 11

[distant-rose]

I don’t think I have post-con depression but I definitely have post- @effulgentcolors, @winterbaby89 and @thesschesthair depression. You guys are baller and absolutely wonderful.

[theoverlordmisha]

List five things that make you happy, then put this in the ask box for the last ten people who reblogged something from you. Spread the positivity :)

This is so nice of you!

1. 

2.

3.

4.

5.

[lifeinahole27]

CS ff: “A Toast to Now” (Part 1/2) (au)

Summary: His neighbors may be brightening their own holidays, but they’re ruining the constant melancholy of his life. He’s determined to keep to himself until the single mother that lives next door to him drops literally through his door two nights before Christmas. It’s the moment that may be temporary, like everything else, but it may just change everything.

Rating: M (for part 2)

Warnings: Minor mentions of alcohol abuse, brooding Killians...

A/N: *shy waves* Hi there, @effulgentcolors! I’m your secret santa! It’s been so hard holding in this secret since I joined because I adore your writing and just wanted to flail at you the whole time, especially because I had just gotten your book and I’ve been steadily reading that. And wanted to reassure you a thousand times in the CSJJ chat that your gift was in progress. It still is, sadly. I didn’t plan on cutting this into more than one part, but I wanted to make sure you had something to show for the day, we’ll pretend this is 45 minutes earlier...holiday. I have had so much fun interacting with you these last couple weeks. I really did tailor this the best I could to what you responded, and to a couple other posts on your blog. I will work on Part 2 as fast as I can, because I’m enjoying the writing now and seeing where the story is going to go. 

Thanks so much to @cssecretsanta2k18 for opening submissions one last time. I so very much enjoyed participating this year and I’m so glad I took that leap of faith!

Un-beta’d so all mistakes are probably ridiculous and definitely mine. <3

Killian has found that, on the rare occasion something bright happens in his life, it is only temporary. His love affair with Milah all those years ago: temporary. The feelings of being safe and loved with his brother before his death: temporary. His looks: Well… to be fair, they’re still there. Just a little clouded by the long hair that’s just starting to brush the collars of his shirts and a bit of unruly facial hair that he’s let grow. He’s, admittedly, a little softer around the middle than he ever was in his youth, but at 45, he really doesn’t give a damn about that. He managed to avoid the large beer gut he thought he’d have at this point of time, thankfully. But working in a bar has helped him see what he wants to avoid becoming.

 Those are and were the bright things, though. He has an apartment he hasn’t abandoned in several years – coming close on a decade, now that he thinks about it. And two jobs that he’s kept for roughly half that amount of time. He has some friends, occasionally…

 So maybe it’s not all temporary, but most of it has been in his life. Love has been rare. Kindness has been fleeting. His friends have all found comfort in their lives and left him to his own devices when he didn’t keep up with their milestones. He spends most of his time alone, now. The aforementioned lack of family has left him more of a sad curmudgeon than a full-on Scrooge, only shuffling from the place he calls home to work a few shifts at the bar he’s partial owner of, serving drinks to men and women who share the same lost expression he wears on most days.

 What Killian hopes is temporary is the music filtering through the walls and down the hallway and filling every quiet corner of his quaint living space. Where normally the muted grays soak and reflect the melancholy he spends most of his time in, the Christmas music from next door feels like it is a light trying its best to seek out every dark spot and eliminate it. Normally, these particular neighbors are at least a little more quiet and reserved, but that rule doesn’t apply to Christmas.

He knows few things about these neighbors who moved in three years ago: The woman is a single mother to one Henry Swan, her first initial is E., and she is… so breathtakingly beautiful he lacks the proper words to express it. He knows that, beyond her beauty, she is kind. She can be prickly when her judgement and standards are questioned, and she is fiercely protective of her son. She will absolutely not take shit from the father of said boy, but that doesn’t seem to be a problem that comes up as often as when they first moved in.

 Killian has struggled to speak to her at their side-by-side mailboxes so many times that she must think him an inexcusably rude jackass, but he tries for friendliness, even if it comes off as blunt brusqueness.

 Henry, on the other hand, he’s spoken to often and freely when they run into each other in the hallways. He is the warmth in the dead of winter, as far as Killian can tell, and young Henry is the reason the normally quiet space next to his is causing just a bit of a headache for Killian tonight. It’s their tree decorating party: a yearly tradition as far as he can tell, and he’ll look forward to spying the silhouette of it in the next coming days when silence reigns once more.

 On the nights he comes home early enough, he can just make out the brightly lit and glittering decorations that adorn the artificial branches – a mixture of store bought baubles and ones Henry makes every year in school. Last year, Henry made an ornament for Killian, sliding it beneath his door on Christmas Eve before heading to his father’s place. Killian did not have a tree, but he hung it on the wall by the door, tacked up as his one beacon of a decoration.

 As the sounds of laughter and Christmas music continue in the Swan apartment, Killian goes to the small table by his entrance and pulls out that same glittery star. He smiles as he hangs it in the same spot as last year, finding his part in their decoration party. Maybe it’s time to get a small tree – just one or two feet tall – just for this star, really.

 The night before Christmas Eve, he’s spending his night off reading a biography he’s been meaning to pick up when he hears a thump against his door. With a frown, he marks his spot and sets the book aside so he can investigate. Out the viewer in the door, he can’t see anything, but his door suddenly shakes again with a thump, and Killian jumps away from the door in alarm. He can see something is blocking the light from beneath the door, at least partially, so he wonders what he’ll find when he opens the damn thing.

 With a few good, deep breaths, he carefully disengages the deadbolt and prepares himself before wrenching the door open quickly.

 There’s a sound of surprise, from him and the person that had been leaning there, and then he’s looking down at one E. Swan sprawled across the threshold to his apartment. There are tracks from tears down her cheeks and her eyes are open wide in surprise, but there’s something clouding her expression, which isn’t hard to pick out the source when she tries to get back up off the floor. She’s completely wasted.

 “Sorry – thought… thought I was against a wall,” she says, but the words are slurred, and she’s having trouble getting steady. “Lost my keys, can’t get… can’t get in…” She trails off again, as she makes it to her feet, her face scrunching up again as fresh tears start and the words that come out next are some approximation of “I can’t get in my apartment” but Killian only knows this because he had assumed her meaning before the sobbing started. She tips forward and falls against him, her forehead resting against his chest.

 “Swan, come in. Come inside. I’ll call the landlord.”

 She can’t speak, not with how hard she’s still crying, so she just nods and holds out her hand to let him lead her in. With her current state, Killian begins to worry that something’s happened to Henry, and he tries to push down the lump of dread in his throat as he guides her to the couch and sits her down. He goes to grab the box of tissues he keeps in the bathroom.

 “I’m sorry,” she mumbles, her voice wobbly and thick. “I’m not usually this….” She gestures, to include her entire state of being as she accepts the tissues and starts to clean herself up. Killian detours to the kitchen real quick and grabs a glass of water for her, placing it on the coffee table in front of her and settling a respectable distance away on the couch.

 “Is Henry okay?”

 Her eyes widen for a second, and she looks up quickly. “Oh gosh, yeah. Yes. He’s fine. I’m sorry. I forgot you actually know… Sorry. Yeah.”

 They’re both quiet for a few minutes while she sips the water and blots her nose. There’s a small pile of tissues piling on his coffee table, and she catches him looking at them, her lips twisting as she tries to gather them. “Where’s the trash can? I’m so sorry – barging in here and making a mess and I don’t even know your first fucking name…”

 “Killian,” he tells her, stilling her hands and gently urging her to drop the tissues again. “It’s all right, love. We’ll take care of them in a bit. I’m going to call Marco and see if he has your spare, okay?”

 “Thanks, Killian,” she says, her smile still a little uneven, but she already seems to be clearing from the worst of the drink. He’s found that crying can have that effect sometimes, so he’s happy to see her eyes clearer though they’re red and a little puffy. “I’m Emma, by the way,” she tells him as he stands to get his phone from where it’s charging.

 “Lovely to finally meet you, Emma.” The smile he gives her is shy and he turns away quickly to go complete his task. And it is lovely, even if these are the circumstances that led to it.

 Marco answers, even at midnight. But as Killian explains the situation, Marco informs him he can’t drive at night, and tells him he won’t be able to deliver the spare until morning. With a quiet sigh to himself, he ends the call and turns back to Emma, who has somehow managed to sneak off to his kitchen to ditch the used tissues and return herself to the couch to peer around his living room with alert eyes.

 “He can’t bring it tonight,” Killian tells her as he returns to the couch. “I can drive you to a hotel or to stay with someone, if you’d prefer, but you’re welcome to stay here the night.” The last part of the sentence is out of his mouth before he’s really thought it through, but the offer is out there so he can’t take it back.

 She cocks her head to the side to consider him, as if looking for some hint of untruth to his words, but only ends up nodding.

 “Well, my brother and sister-in-law are out of town already, and my spare to their place is on my keyring, so there goes that. And I’d rather be here in the morning for Marco.” She bounces experimentally on the couch a few times, testing the feel of it, and Killian can’t help but smile. “This thing is nice.”

 “You are welcome to the bed instead, if you’d prefer,” he offers, but she’s already shaking her head. “Then let’s get you set up with some bedding and pajamas, aye?”

 “You are not at all who I thought you were,” Emma lets slip when she takes the blankets that Killian hands her from the linen closet.

 “Oh really? Who did you think I was?”

 “That quiet, kinda creepy old guy that lived down the hall,” Emma responds, and it’s clear that the dredges of the spirit are left behind, because she goes still with her eyes open wide, just like she wasn’t supposed to say that. “I mean. Like I said, you’re not that guy. But…”

 Killian gives her an expectant look, his eyebrow raised, until he can’t hold the pose any longer and starts chuckling. “Sorry to have caused you such impressions for this long, Swan. It’s just my demeanor. And in my elderly age…”

 “Shut up!”

 They’re both chuckling as she swats at him with the blankets, before moving back down the hallway to start spreading the sheet over the couch. Killian makes sure to find the softest pillow in his bunch to lend to her.

 “Thanks again,” Emma says after they’ve set up the couch as a suitable bed for the night and she’s changed into the clothes he lent her.

 “Not a problem. I’m sorry your night has gone so poorly, by the way.”

 “It gave me a chance to meet you,” Emma says, but her smile is interrupted by a large yawn.

 “Aye, same for me. Get some rest, Emma. I’ll see you in the morning?”

 She nods at him, her eyes already drifting closed as she settles against the pillow and pulls the blankets up to her chin. She’s asleep in a matter of moments, and Killian switches off all the lights on the way to his room. Tomorrow, maybe he can learn more.

 But in the morning, he discovers that Emma Swan’s appearance in his life is just another temporary thing, and he tries not to let the disappointment consume him.

[princess-and-the-swan]

One-Shot Fic Rec: The First Adventure

By effulgentcolors | Rating: G

Truth be told, princess Emma had had prince Killian wrapped around her little finger ever since they were 2 years old and he let her play with all his toys, even his little ship. A young prince!Killian and princess!Emma have fun little shenanigans! Very cute and fluffy :)

Read it on AO3

[frauleinsmaria]

“Just so you know, this isn’t one of those… bodice ripper things. It’s not a romcom script waiting to happen. It’s not one of those stories. It’s just Emma’s life. And, if you’d asked her just a couple of years ago, she would’ve bet you a decent amount of cash that it wouldn’t have anything resembling a happy ending.

Then again Emma has been known to be wrong. ”

-Not One of Those Stories

Happy happy birthday @effulgentcolors !  I’ve known for awhile now that I wanted to make something for this verse of yours that I completely love and adore, and it only seemed fitting to post on your big day. Thanks to all the support and laughs you’ve had for me and so many others in this fandom! I hope your birthday is every bit as fantastic as you are ❤️

[killianmesmalls]

“It’s like what an alien would bring to earth. ‘This is what passes for food.’” @effulgentcolors

Video of Lyubi in a... state, “I know I’m high, and I’m trying to explain this to you, but I feel like I have access to worlds right now.”

Thank you for joining us on our weirdo adventure, you delight.

[thesschesthair]

B, G, S for the fandom meme (and if I may be so bold I'd ask for a Killian Jones as a married man headcanon)

B - A pairing you initially didn’t consider but someone changed your mind

Honestly? Most tbh. I used to be . very one ship minded but over the years opened up to all others and now I can appreciate elements in all of them tbh. 

G - Do you remember your first OTP, if so who was in it

Ha! Oh gosh, it’s probably Fergus and Marie from ‘war of the buttons’. It was my favourite movie as a kid, but you’d have to watch to understand why i’d shout “Fergus! She marries Fergus!” at the end each time. I was a bab tho lol.

S - Show us an example of your personal headcanon (prompts optional but encouraged)

killian as a married man.... hmmm.... I think he probably calms down a lot? Not that he was wild to begin with (big bad pirate my back foot) but more that he mellows out at the little things? I think he probably loses a touch of that hot headedness, mainly with Storybrooke becoming stress free.

 I think he enjoys dropping the marriage terms in at any chance he can get, and wears the title like a badge of honour. 

“Sorry Granny, i’m a married man now”

“Has my lovely wife been in to see you this morning?”

“I bought these for the mother in law. Do you think she’ll like them?”

I think he enjoys having to freedom to whisk them away on his ship for a weekend getaway as much as he enjoys fixing up their home and making it their own. He’s got the best of both worlds going on.

I think now he has a family, a home and a place where he belongs, as much as being a pirate is in his blood, he has no fleeting thoughts about missing the old days. He doesn’t yearn for it? He can reminisce and recall tales of what he’d got up to, but there’s never that sense of longing to go back. They’re fond memories but memories non the less? 

[spartanguard]

CS fic rec Mondays:

The Fluffy Problem by @effulgentcolors

Summary:  Post-Tallahassee. Cora takes her revenge on Hook and he is forced to run to the hero team for help. Good thing Emma is a cat person.

This was one of the first MCs that I completely fell in love with and I’ve read it several more times in the years since then. I’m a huge sucker for transformation, and while we’ve all been led to believe that Killian is an absolute puppy, LB clearly shows us that he’s perfect as a sarcastic, snarky, cuddly cat. It’s such a wonderful and unique alternate version of the events of Season 2 (and a bit after) and everyone should probably read it.