A/N: Taking le prompts :)
“Emma. Emma. Darling. Swan.”
Killian has an eyebrow raised when Emma finally looks over to him. She tries valiantly to appear un-perturbed by the fact it took four goes to get her attention – he doesn’t need to see how worked up she is about this.
“Yes?” she replies innocently, gathering her daughter into her lap (she emits a happy gurgle in response – but still, not an actual word) and turning to face where her husband sits languidly on the couch, feet perched on the coffee table and crossed at the ankle.
“Love, I can practically hear you worrying. Relax.”
“I am relaxed,” she says, running her hands through Hope’s light hair. When he continues to look entirely unconvinced – god damn him – she drops the act, pouting and looking down on her baby girl. “I just – ” Emma sighs. “Shouldn’t she have said her first word by now?”
“She’s only just turned one,” Killian reassures her. She sighs again, and h turns his head over to the kitchen. “When did Neal say his first word?” he calls to where her parents are busying themselves with dinner, and the two of them stop in their actions.
“Just before his first birthday, I think,” Mary Margaret says and David nods in agreement. Emma remembers thatmilestone all too clearly – the excitement, the hassle, the rush to get the goddamn camera going, David. Before his first birthday, her mother had said.
Hope’s first birthday had come and gone, and she didn’t look to be in a rush to say anything.
“What if she never says her first word?” Emma grumbles. “What if she just doesn’t talk?”
“Highly unlikely, given the fact her father never shuts the hell up,” David says, collapsing down onto the sofa and drawing an incredulous Oi from Killian, who elbows his father in law in the ribs to shut him up. Emma rolls her eyes, diverting her attention away from where David reprimands Killian on having his feet on the coffee table and back to her daughter, running a thumb over her pink cheek and under her bright blue eyes.
“Come on, baby, say something,” she begs but Hope doesn’t comply, only giggles lightly, reaching up her tiny little hands in an attempt to tug on Emma’s hair. She loves her daughter with all her heart – the little nightmare that she is with her mischievous streak and eyes like her father’s – but she would be very grateful for her to say something at this point – a vocal confirmation that Emma isn’t screwing up the whole parenting thing.
She sighs when her wish isn’t met – when her baby does nothing but blink up at her – dropping a kiss to her forehead and bundling her into her arms. “I’ll go help with dinner, then. Here we go, baby, you can go sit with daddy.” She hands her over to Killian, who smiles warmly and sits up to accommodate, and has just pushed herself up into a standing position – kicking away the stuffed toys and rattles that litter the living room floor – when she hears a happy giggle, followed by a distinctive “Dada.”
“What was that?” she says, looking immediately to where Killian has Hope perched on his knee, his eyebrows darting up, surprise lighting his features as Hope repeats in two short syllables “Dada”.
“Yeah, that’s right, angel,” he laughs, looking up to Emma. “Her first word. See, darling. I told you she’d come around.”
“Yeah,” Emma replies softly, slipping her hands into the pockets of her jeans as she looks at him. He ducks his head back down; tapping Hope lightly on her nose and the gesture is so simple, yet filled with so much love and the delight that shines in his eyes that Emma has to bite down on her lip to contain the emotion that resonates within her. “You were right.”
And when her daughter says Dada again – and Killian grins again, easy andalmost relieved (she knows she’s not alone her worries about parenthood) – she smiles along with the two of them, kissing the top of his head as she moves into the kitchen.
(She can’t even bring herself to be mad that her daughter’s first word is dada instead of mama.)
This is for welcometomentalward who asked for a fic for her birthday :) She runs a psychology blog that is fantastic, check it out! I haven’t written in a while so I hope you like it!
Disclaimer: I don’t own a person, a place or a thing.
Emma wakes to the sound of…
Thank you so much to the lovely Marcela for sending me this prompt: “Killian and Emma have been best friends for a long time but they secretly love each other and then they declare their love to each other and they kiss under the rain.”
Summary: Five rainy days over the course of almost two decades change the lives of Emma Swan and Killian Jones forever. CS Modern AU.
Words: 8,750+ (This got away from me.)
Emma stood at the bus stop shivering from the cold rain pelting her body. Her new foster parents had left for work early that morning without so much as a “goodbye” or “good luck on your first day,” so Emma was left to scrounge up her own breakfast. When she noticed it was raining outside, she searched the house for an umbrella, but turned up empty-handed. Part of her was hoping the bus would arrive soon, giving her a reprieve from the cold drops, another part though hoped it would never come.
Emma missed Maine, and she desperately wanted to go back. Her foster parents there were no better than these new ones. Still, she had been used to her life there. She had friends at school, she knew her teachers and neighbors, and she felt comfortable in the small town. Boston was large, foreign and frightening. To make matters worse, she knew absolutely no one in the whole city. Emma did not want to be the new kid again. She knew what that entailed and was not looking forward to eating lunch alone, sitting awkwardly at the back of the class, and going completely unnoticed in the hallways.
Just a short little fic I wrote really quick that’s mainly focused on Killian. It’s fluffy.
~ ~ ~
It had been nearly a year since the kiss outside Granny’s. Months since Killian finally knocked down that final wall. Months since Emma realized that this man before her was more than just a pirate, more than just a guy who liked her.
They were a couple, although they didn’t have much time to act like it. Everything was casual touches, stolen glances, and light kisses. Of course they had their intimate nights every once in awhile, their mornings waking up side by side, but as soon as they left the comfort of each other’s arms to embrace the new day, they had to put their relationship aside. There were so many outside threats to Storybrooke, they had learned how to live with it by now. Killian knew that his relationship with Emma was not nearly as important as the safety of her family, and he was completely okay with that (even if the interruptions did get a little out of hand sometimes).
Finally, things were beginning to slow down in their little town. The latest threats had been taken care of, not that it was any surprise, and Emma and Killian could finally relax and enjoy each other’s company.
Emma finally had decided, just a month before, that she couldn’t live with herself if she continued to let Killian sleep on the 30+ year old mattress at Granny’s, and she offered him a place in her bed - permanently. Killian was reluctant of course, but Emma insisted. It shocked him that she would offer something so serious to him, it wasn’t like her. She knew it wasn’t like her, but Killian changed something in her. She had never felt as complete as she did when he was by her side; she had never felt so at home, not even when she was living in her parents’ loft.
The first night was odd. He had slept over plenty of times before, but Henry had never been there. They had an understanding that Killian could only stay the night when Henry was at Regina’s, so it was strange with him staying just down the hall.
Okay, let me start off by saying…I AM SO SORRY FOR HOW LATE THIS IS. My muse has not been cooperating lately, and I’m still not convinced that she is, since this didn’t really turn out how I wanted, but nonetheless, I hope it’s okay!
Thanks for the prompt, sweetie :)
It started with a challenge.
And everyone knew how much Killian loved those.
“Mario Kart?” Henry had offered from his cross-legged position on the couch, popping a potato chip into his mouth, all the while his eyes still glued to the screen in-front of him.
Killian had seen the lad playing the game often enough to gather its title, though he still didn’t really know who Mario was or why he had a kart.
He sank beside Henry on the couch, waving away the offer with a polite smile as he reached for his book from the coffee table – one that Belle had recommended to him: The Hunger Games.
“No thank you, lad. I’m quite alright” he assured him, as he peered down his nose at the book in his hand, flicking to the page where he was up to. Henry gave him a sideways glance.
“You mean scared”.
Killian sighed heavily and lowered the book, but he couldn’t help the way his lips twitched into a small smile at the new-found banter that he had with the lad.
“I mean I’m quite content with my book. Thank you” he said, reopening his book, only to snap it closed again when Henry piped up a moment later.
“Or you’re afraid of losing to a 12 year old”.
Killian recognised the teasing glint in Henry’s eye – one that he’d seen encompassed in the sparkling green depths of Swan’s gaze many a time. One full of challenge and playfulness. Like mother, like son.
“Lad, I’ve already told you, I’m just-”
“I think you are”.
They sat in silence for a minute; Henry smirking smugly at the screen as he turned the steering wheel-shaped controller in his hands, while Killian’s gaze burned a hole into the side of the lad’s face, his jaw clenching slightly.
“Hand me a controller”.
read on ff.net
A/N: Based on a prompt on tumblr
Emma sat at the table in her parents’ apartment. She had just moved out a few days ago to a new place by the docks. Unfortunately for her, the current visit wasn’t a social call. She was there with Henry and Killian, as well as a reluctant Regina, Rumplestiltskin, and his new wife Belle due to the threat of Elsa.
When she had first found out that the Ice Queen from the famous Disney film was the latest villain, she wasn’t sure if she should laugh or cry. Henry had gotten her to watch the movie with her while in New York, and he hadn’t stopped singing Let It Go for weeks after. Henry had been slightly devastated when he found out, and insisted that she was just misunderstood.
Summary: LD fic in which the lieutenant teaches the princess a few steps.
Rating: DON’T ASK ME, I HAVE NO IDEA HOW TO RATE THINGS, BUT LET’S GO WITH T MAYBE?
Word Count: 2,404
And all the night’s magic seems to whisper and hush
And all the soft moonlight seems to shine in your blush
Emma sat on one of the many benches in the courtyard and toyed nervously with the thick tulle of her dress.
“This is ridiculous,” she scolded herself under her breath as she stood up and began to pace back and forth in a busy line over the grass. There was to be a ball in the castle tomorrow night, and here she was, the crown princess, sulking around in the woods after dark, waiting around to be taught how to dance. “Utterly ridiculous.”
“You know, lass,” Emma turned her head to see Killian, decked out in full naval attire, leaning up against the gate at the entry to the courtyard, arms crossed over his chest as he smirked at her with an air of self-satisfaction, “they say that talking to yourself is the first sign of madness.”
She snorted at that – she didn’t mean to, but with him it always just sort of happens – and clapped a surprised hand over her mouth before erupting in a fit of giggles. She ran over to him, jumping into his arms as she wrapped her arms around his neck and held onto him tightly.
"You have got to be kidding me.”
Emma groans, blinking against the numbing darkness and trying to turn in the close encounters her situation presents. In an attempt to gather some kind of knowledge of where she is by way of feeling around, she shoves her arms forwards. The answering grunt of pain as she hits leather tells her she’s not alone before Killian’s familiar voice hisses across the space - so close she can feel his warm breath on her face.
"Bloody hell, what was that for?" he asks, voice raspy with the lingering effects of her blow.
"I didn’t mean to, I was trying to figure out where her icy highness poofed us to,” she explains, focusing on stretching her arms either side of her. They extend about halfway before meeting the boundary of their enclosure that, running her palms along the smooth surface, stretches up to a ceiling just above their heads. It’s the size of a cupboard - minus the door (apparently).
Emma shakes her head, “No freaking clue.” Whipping her head in what she assumes is his general direction, she slaps him in the chest, voice rising a decibel when she reprimands him, “What the hell were you even doing there? I told you David and I could handle her -“
"Well, if she’s just a confused lass as you’ve claimed, she’ll have no trouble coming to find us -"
"And if she’s actually evil and I’m wrong?”
His tone is laced with subtle reassurances when he answers in a quiet voice, “That’s doubtful, love,” before continuing, his cadence landing haphazardly between mocking and irritated, “But if she is actually evil, you shouldn’t have been confronting her by yourself in the first place -“
"I can handle myself, Killian -"
"Yet, had I not tagged along, you’d be in this mess by yourself -“
"At least then I’d have more space to figure out how to escape,” she hisses, punctuating the claim by shuffling forward, trying to highlight just how little space separates them. Unfortunately, that plan backfires when she stumbles and lands squarely against his chest, nose-to-nose. He steadies her with an arm around her waist.
The air becomes suddenly thick and hard to swallow, her body humming appreciatively at the way her soft curves meld to his hard lines. They haven’t actually had the chance to discuss what they are - every opportunity interrupted by one disaster or another. Even if they did, she’s not sure they’d know what to say.
It’s been so long since Emma has had to verbalize her emotions, she thinks maybe her lack of practice has actually made it impossible for her to deliver the words at all. So, they’re still in this suspended sort of limbo - neither one completely certain of their relationship.
That, of course, doesn’t mean the air has stopped crackling with a mixture of unspoken words and unresolved tension. Which is precisely what happens as she stills against him, hands anchored in his shoulders, breaths mingling in the hair’s width that separates their lips, chests brushing with every cavernous inhale and exhale.
Emma swallows, shifts back on her heels, pulls back - now is not the time to get frisky with Killian. They don’t even know where they are.
"We should, ah, we should probably try to feel around, figure out where we might be," she suggests lamely, shuffling as far away as their close quarters will allow. With a gruff cough, he agrees (and she can imagine the way he scratches the back of his neck awkwardly). She turns around, placing both palms against the wall and smoothing them up and down, reaching around for something that might tell them where they are.
The deafening silence lasts a second, and then she can hear him leaning slowly across the cramped space to where she stands with her back to him. Warmth radiates from him, permeating her skin where he stands behind her. Hesitantly, his hand drifts down from her shoulder, her breath catching when it lands on her hip.
With a shuffling step, Emma slowly turns to face him. She doesn’t need any light to know he’s staring at her intensely - ice blue eyes probably glinting with the same stirrings she can feel reflected in her leafy green irises.
They’ve never been very graceful; every interaction edged by a desperation neither can truly erase (not when they’ve craved intimacy for so long). But what they lack in finesse, they more than make up for in fervor.
They move at the same time, both of his arms snaking around her waist as she cards her hands in his hair, tugging roughly when he captures her lips. She lands against the wall of their quarters with a muffled thump, the length of his body holding her steady against it. He’s relentless in his ministrations, leaving her breathless when he finally makes a path down to the juncture of her neck.
Really, she is just as frantic, yanking him back to her mouth when he takes too long to return.
"I bet you’re glad I follow you everywhere now," he whispers against her lips in between kisses. She’s poised to respond, a retort perched on the tip of her tongue, when they both hear footsteps. Stiffening, they listen - and promptly jump apart when they hear the sound of rusted locks being drawn back.
Double door open to Emma’s left, the light almost blinding when it hits her (as it turns out, they were in a cupboard of sorts - the sort that is used as a holding cell for dangerous individuals, Emma is later told, which is why the walls were seamless). Elsa and David are standing in front of them, the former of whom is sporting an apologetic expression.
"Sorry about that," she says quietly, eyes downcast as her voice breeches the air in wispy strand of words.
Emma smiles gently, opening her mouth to alleviate the delicate’s woman’s concern when Killian interrupts her, smirk plastered across his face.
"No need to be sorry, love. No harm done," he says, glancing once at Emma and swaggering out of the cupboard in his typical fashion.
She pretends to ignore the expression on David’s face when the pirate adds in a low voice as he passes Elsa, “If anything, I should say thank you.”
This was a prompt in pamie884's prompt box and she'll probably roll her eyes that I used it for captain swan, but whatever. I dedicate this to tersaseda as a mini pick-me-up. :) sorry for any mistakes, it’s un-beta’d.
disclaimer: don’t own, don’t sue
Rating: F for serious fluff (I couldn’t help it)
Word Count: ~800
Killian leaned against the door to shut it, the wind making it difficult.
“It’s blustery,” Emma said as he got the door shut and locked up. “A perfect fall day.”
He raised an eyebrow at her. “We were nearly blown away out there, Swan. How is that perfect?”
“Well it’s no longer winter, thanks to Elsa finally being able to control her powers.” Emma undid her jacket and hung it up on the peg in the hallway of her apartment. She started to unwind her scarf before seeing Killian trying to do the same and failing miserably. She chuckled and walked over to him, undoing his coat (a warm wool pea coat that he’s succumbed to during that insane winter they’d all had) and slipping it off his shoulders. She paid no attention to the darkening of his eyes as she hung it up and then went to work on the red scarf around his neck. His hand and hook (he still wore it whenever she went out to patrol) found her hips and rested there, as she undid the scarf so it just hung on his neck.
“I love fall,” she said, grasping both ends of the scarf and pulling him to her for a quick kiss. It was familiar now, this ease of affection and yet she still marveled at it as though it was the first time. He tried to deepen the kiss, but she pulled away, placed his scarf with his coat and went to finish unwrapping herself. He reached out and tugged on it much in the same fashion as she had just done, pressing his mouth to hers, tongue teasing against her lips before letting her go and walking into the living room.
“Why do you love fall?”
First half of the kiss in the finale.
I’m sure it was cut in two parts because they wanted to show us it was a really long kiss. For me, the beginning, with the broad view, is to make this kiss really natural, especially with the way Killian is standing on his chair. They break the kiss only in the middle because it’s certainly not a one time thing, and with the camera, focused on them and after moving away, it’s a way to show they really feel alone in the world, except that they’re definitively not hidden and anyone can see them.