A Day With Dad

onceuponajollyroger:

A/N: Emma takes a college-bound Henry on an overnight trip, leaving Killian in charge of their spirited five-year-old daughter, Ella. 

Daddy!Killian Fluff

Word Count: 2,600+

[FF Net]

“I can’t believe I’m awake at 5am,” Henry groaned with a yawn, though his state barely passed for awake. There was just a little bit of dried drool on the edge of his mouth and his hair was sticking up in every direction.

Emma rolled her eyes as she took a long sip of her strong, strong coffee. “Stop complaining, kid. Colleges don’t tour themselves,” she said as she nudged him in his side.

Henry’s eyes fell shut as he nearly drifted to sleep where he stood.

Killian rubbed his tired eyes and shot Henry an amused grin. He clapped the boy, almost man he thought, hard on the back to rouse him. “Apparently it’s a good thing we’re sending you off to college instead of the military, aye lad?”

Read More

Morning Wood

damnodonoghue1:

image

I hope you like it! Sorry if there are any mistakes.

Rated: M

The sun was already up, shining through the light curtains of the room. Killian slowly opened his eyes and was surprised when he found himself pressed against a warm naked body, a gorgeous warm naked body. He held her close, her back to his front, his arms possessively tight around her. He had been sure she would have left during the night instead of staying over like before. He ran a finger down her arm, smiling as he left a wake of goose bumps.  

Read More

damnodonoghue1:

image

image

I know one says Ruby, but I decided to go with Tink because they have a better friendship. Thank you for the prompts, anons! I had fun writing this.

M-rated. Sorry if there are any mistakes. I hope you like it! 

Emma was fuming. She was absolutely livid.

Her day had started good, no curses, no villains to defeat, she finally had a good nights rest, but then she walked into Granny’s.

The first thing she did was look around for him and when she found him, she felt like she was punched in the gut. He was sitting very close to Tinkerbell and they were laughing. Her hand was lying on his and their shoulders were bumping. They hadn’t even noticed her arrival.

There was history between the two of them, but they never told her what. They had spent years in Neverland together and Emma couldn’t help but wonder about the two of them. She should have known he was just like all the other men she had dated. He had his challenge and he probably figured out she wasn’t worth it. How could she have been so stupid? She had no claim on him, so what did she expect to happen?

Read More

Good Morning

intolerablystruck:

Smut, glorious smut, in which Killian and Emma are a little bit drunk… ;)

Under the cut…because smut.

Read More

Late to Breakfast

onceuponadream32:

A short little drabble I wrote. Really hope you guys like it :) Feel free to send my any prompts for stories that you would like me to write. I would be happy to!

————————————————————————————————————————-

   For the first time in a very long time, Emma Swan is happy. Really happy. The kind of happiness that fills your very soul and makes you feel like you can do anything. The kind that makes you remember the entire purpose of living. The kind that is completely and utterly priceless. She has her parents.. and as overprotective and sappy as they may be, she is so grateful to have them in her life. For her entire childhood and a portion of her adult life, they were ghosts. People with no name or face, whom she didn’t remember or vision. Though they were always with her, like a lingering cloud of sorrow that just wouldn’t go away. Like a wound that would just fester and fester, but never heal. Little did she know that the cloud was never meant to be filled with sorrow. Her parents may not have remembered her, but their true selves did, and they loved her more than words could describe. And she knows that now, Oh does she know it. The looks of masked worry when she unknowingly tries to build up a wall, the not-so-hidden smirks and rolls of their eyes when she and a certain pirate get a little too affectionate, the bright looks in their eyes when she casually calls them “mom” and “dad”, and so much more. She has Henry, who she loves more than anything. The bright, loving, creative, brave and strong boy, (now teenager, but despite his annoyed groans, he will always be her little boy.) who never fails to make her smile and bring a feeling of pride into her heart. She often looks back on the day of her 28th birthday, when he found her and started a chain of events that would lead her here. Lying in bed on a Saturday morning, small rays of sunlight covering the room in a comforting glow, with a pirate who’s chest was currently resting beneath her ear, his arm hung loosely over her waist and their legs entwined between the sheets. Thinking about all of the wonderful people in her life always brought such a big smile to her face.

“Well Darling, I must say I’m quite flattered that you think of me this early in the morning.”

Killian said with a smirk as he ran his hand up and down her arm softly. Emma rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the smirk that tugged the corners of her lips upwards.

“And what makes you think I’m thinking of you? I think your ego is showing, Killian.

His smirk only grew at that.

“You forget, love, you’re an open book to me. And for clarification, if such a thing were to show,” He raised both of his hands to make air quotes for the word “show”, something he picked up from a now sarcastic Henry. “I’m sure it would be by your doing.”

He said with a wink and a raised eyebrow. Emma gave him a smirk of her own and punched him in the chest, causing both of them to chuckle.

Of course you would make an innuendo out of something as simple as that.”

Emma said as she brought her hand to rest over his heart.

“Pirate.”

Killian said in a mocking sing-song voice. Emma raised her head and turned to look at him as she ran her hand through the soft chest hair that peeked out from his t-shirt.

“Yeah.. But you’re my pirate.”

She said with a serious expression, and wide eyes as she fully realized what she had said. Killian’s smirk fell as he turned to face her, a look of hope on his handsome features. Emma was frozen, (the irony), in place, not sure of what to say. Sure she cared about him, a lot, but they hadn’t said the words to each other yet and quite frankly Emma wasn’t sure if she was ready. Deep in her heart she knew that Killian loved her, but actually acknowledging the intensity of his feelings for her sent a jolt of fear down her spine. Just as Killian was about to say something, Emma’s phone rang causing both of them to jump. Killian inwardly groaned at the interruption while Emma jumped up from the bed. She picked up her phone and saw that it was David. This is the only time I will actually be thankful for David interrupting us. Emma thought to herself as she answered the phone.

“Hey Dav-Dad. What’s up?”

She could practically hear him smiling from her calling him “dad”.

“Hey Emma. I was calling to see if you would want to meet me at Granny’s for breakfast in about an hour. My treat!”

“What’s the occasion?”

“Does a father need an occasion to buy his daughter an ungodly amount of pancakes and hot chocolate?”

David said with a laugh that made Emma grin. After all the horrible things they had gone through separate and together, (not to mention the drama with Elsa and dealing with The Snow Queen), it was nice to know that people could still find joy.

“I’ll be there.”

“Great. See you then, Emma.”

“Bye Dad.”

Emma hung up the phone just as Killian brought his arms around her waist and pressed a kiss into her hair.

“And just what does dear old Dave want now?”

Killian asked as he moved to pepper kisses along her jaw. Despite the previous tension, Emma relaxed into his touch with a sigh.

“Breakfast at Granny’s in an hour.”

Killian hummed warmly and brought her closer to his chest.

“Well that’s still quite a ways away, Swan. Any thoughts on how to occupy the time?”

Emma smiled and knew just how she wanted to occupy that time. But she might as well tease him a bit before. She forced the smile away and began to pull out of his embrace, much to Killian’s protests. She stood from the bed and turned to press a chaste kiss to his pouting lips.

“Shower and then a coffee.”

She answered, biting her cheek to keep from laughing at the way his eyes turned into those of a lost puppy. She got to the doorway of the bathroom before she broke. Damn pirate making her soft.

“Oh come on you, get in here.”

She said as she toyed with the hem of her tank top. Killian’s eyes lit up and he managed to mutter something along the lines of “bloody minx” and “so beautiful” before his lips were ravaging hers.

She ran 10 minutes late to breakfast.

Anonymous;
Captain Swan #49 boss/intern au. And can you please make it smutty. I love your writing and your smut hehehehe

killians-dashingrescue:

Thanks for the compliment dear! So you wanted some smut, who am I to deny your wishes. Here’s some smut!

Emma was walking down the familiar hallway that led to Mr. Jones office. His secretary Mrs. Bell came to see her and told her that he needed to see right away and that it was an urgent matter. She had an idea of what might be so urgent and had to contain herself so she didn’t run down the corridor and lock his door.

She knocked on his door and heard his voice asking who was there. When she told it was her, he asked her to come in. She opened the door and the second she entered his office, he surged forward and pressed her back on the close door as his mouth attacked hers, his hands fumbling with the lock.

Read More

Anonymous;
Can you please please please write a one-shot for your headcanon of Killian getting his hand back and then choosing the hook again? I adore your writing style and I think it would turn out incredibly feelsy and good. Please with a cherry on top?

lady-silverblood:

There he stands, there they stand, on the brink of everything he’s ever wanted (so he thinks) and yet damn if Killian Jones doesn’t have the least idea what to do. Emma stands behind him, silently waiting, has told him she’ll support whatever choice he makes. It’s immaterial to her, she’s assured him. She doesn’t think less of him, she never has. She fell in love with that one-handed man, that damaged, broken, incomplete, flawed, still breathing man, the way he fell in love with her, alone behind her walls, no woman is an island, but she was. He can take it or leave it. But it’s time.

Killian looks down at his hand, his whole, working (if slightly unruly) left hand. Flexes the fingers, moves it. There was a time when all he wanted in this world was to have it back, brooded on what had been violently stolen from him. But now he does, and it’s…. not been what he expected. It doesn’t make him feel any different. It’s not the cure. And he knows by now, knows in shattered days and sleepless nights over three hundred years of solitude, that you can never, ever have back what’s gone and dead. And it might not just be Liam, Milah, Bae, and all his ghosts. It might be him, the young Killian Jones, the naive and wide-eyed boy, as well.

He can’t go back to that Killian. He never can.

And here, standing behind him, is the reason why he’s not at all sure he even wants to. The beautiful woman who, despite all the good reasons to the contrary, loves him, as he loves her. The kind of love to make the stars fall and time slip away like a phantom. That when he’s with her, he forgets that it hurts, because in her presence, it no longer does.

Killian touches the military insignia from the sextant Liam gave him, that he’s kept in a pocket by his heart for all this time, every passing year and decade and century away from him. Runs a finger down the tattoo on his right forearm for Milah, feels the weight where he drew Baelfire close for their last embrace, the callus on the hand where he threw dirt on the boy’s grave (however much a man, he still sees the boy in his head).

He has them here. He bears them branded in his body, in his heart.

Not in his hand.

He doesn’t want it back as the crocodile’s pittance. Not even now, when Emma could cleanse it with her magic and make it right again.

Before Killian can change his mind, because he knows so completely and utterly who he is and what he must do, he turns to her. In a voice barely more than a whisper, he says, “Take it off.”

She stares at him. “Killian — are you sure?”

"Aye, love. Very. Just — one thing." He’s finding it hard to speak above a whisper, feels as if he’s been kicked in the chest. "Come here."

Mesmerized, she does.

Killian Jones puts both hands on her face, rubbing his thumbs along the bow of her lips, the indent of her chin, the strong lines of her cheekbones, the delicate bone of her eyes and nose, the tangled blonde locks, the neat curve of the ears. Every inch of her that he knows, touching her, touching her, saving up the memory.

This was the only thing he wanted it for anyway.

Emma’s lips tremble, but she makes no sound. Briefly, their foreheads rest together. They stand there, breathing hard, in the silence. Then he steps back, and holds out his left hand to her.

She takes it gently. Closes her eyes and begins to concentrate. Her fingers crackle and hum with pure white magic, looping around his wrist, trails of fire into his flesh. He doesn’t feel pain, though. A strange sensation, intense and stinging, but no pain. Sweat shows on her face as she works harder, harder — and then in a blaze, easily as that, it comes free. She lets out an explosive breath, gasping — then puts the hand down and spins to him. “God, Killian, are you — are you all right?!”

He doesn’t answer for a moment, looking down at the stump. Circles it with thumb and forefinger of his good hand, in that habit he got into. It is impossible to describe the burden that feels raised from his shoulders, the ghosts whispering their love in soft shadowed voices, then winking out like snuffed candles in the morning breeze. At last, he lifts his eyes to her frantic gaze. A slow, shy smile spreads over his face.

What would the world be like, without Captain Hook?

"Aye," he breathes at last. Beyond all measure. At last. It is so.

He is not broken.

He is whole.

businesscasualprincess;
CS "Please, put it DOWN."

seastarved:

“Liam. Liam, no! Please, put it away!”

His screaming has only gotten worse. 

After the first hour, his voice had gotten hoarse from it and she had thought that maybe it would be easier if he couldn’t do it any more without hurting himself. But, she had been gravely mistaken, because he had yelled through the pain, his voice sounding more and more like broken glass. She had tried to give him some water to ease the ache but he had ignored her just as he had been doing since it had begun. He had continued to stay on his knees, staring blankly ahead, caught in his nightmares. He would move to lunge now and again, no doubt to save them—Liam, Milah and she swears at one point he had shouted for his mother—but the spell she had put on him had kept him in place. She knows that it is for his own safety but her hands had shaken as she had done it, loathe to keep him from soothing his pain, even a little.

David had come to her, a tentative touch of her shoulder, whispering for her to take a break, to go home and get some rest. There was nothing to be done but to wait for the spell to pass. They had tried everything and Regina had told them again and again that this was the only way. 

(She hadn’t left him. She couldn’t.)

She watches him now, cross legged on the forest floor, facing him directly. Her cheeks are damp from tears and she feels almost as helpless as she did when she had had to give up Henry. But, she is determined to be there for him when he snaps out of it, to be the first person he sees, to be the one to hold him steady.

(Like he has been for her a thousand times over.)

He goes through experiencing Liam’s death for the fifth time. She knows how they go well enough to identify them now. It always starts with the agonised shouting as he tries again and again to do something to save them. Then comes the denial and the anger. But the worst, is when he cries. He is quiet, the tears rolling down his face in silence only broken by the occasional sob but her heart feels like it is about to burst every time it happens.

(She cries with him.)

Halfway through reliving Milah’s death, he abruptly stops speaking.

And falls down. 

She stands up immediately and and a sob escapes her as she moves to take him into her arms.

(Touching him again feels like breathing.)

She lays him in her lap, stroking his hair again and again, whispering nonsense words of comfort. He slowly opens his eyes, looks up at her and she can still see the pain in his eyes. She presses her forehead against his and kisses him, gently whispering I’m here, I’m here, I’m here. 

His hand comes around to hold on to her fingers and she never wants to let go.

lupinsfurrylittleproblem;
for the au thing, 4 or 28

getsomefirewood:

Sorry this is late! Yesterday was super busy. Also, I’m just going to hazard a guess that you wanted me to do CS for this ;D Hope you like!

.::Knocking on the wrong door au::.

There you are!” she says when she answers the door.

Before she sees that he was not who she was expecting.

Before his expression turns to confusion as she is not who he was expecting either.

“You’re not August.”

“And you’re not Mr. Todd Copper, I take it.”

“No.”

The pair stared awkwardly at one another for several uncomfortable seconds, breaths puffing out in the November cold, before Emma started to close the door.

“Wait,” Killian said, rather quietly and uncertainly, when the door was almost completely back in the jamb.

To his surprise, it opened.

The blonde raised an eyebrow, silently inquiring, “Yes?”

He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “I, um. Hi. I’m looking for 815 South Brooke Street. I have this delivery, and my boss told me not to come back until it was signed for. I’ve been pacing back up and down the block for ages. I finally noticed your door at the side here and thought maybe… well, you know. You don’t have any clue where I’m supposed to go, do you?”

“What’s your name?” she asked after a moment.

“Killian. Killian Jones,” he replied.

“I’m Emma,” she says as she stepped out onto the stoop, “and I take it you’re new to town?”

“Yes,” he looked down bashfully, toeing the dirt with his boot. “I stayed at home to study while my brother came out here and started his own business. Then I grew restless and wanted to see the world, so I moved out here to join him.”

“Right,” Emma said, nodding thoughtfully as she took in all Killian had said. “Your brother’s an asshole,” she told him bluntly.

“Sorry?”

“He’s hazing you. 815 was a dilapidated, abandoned, old whorehouse. It finally burned down about four years back, and the city decided to rezone the block. Now a couple of properties have bigger backyards.”

“Oh.”

“Is there even anything in that box you’re supposed to deliver?”

“There’s something. The bloody thing’s certainly heavy enough.” He scowled at the parcel by his feet, already begrudging having to take it back to his truck.

“You don’t know what it is?”

“Um. No?”

Emma cast him a mischievous grin. “Don’t you want to find out?” He returned her smirk, and she replied with a nod of her head. “C’mon inside, and we’ll open ‘er up in the kitchen.” She noted that his eyebrows had relocated at least a full inch higher in surprise. “I trust you.” She said simply.

Not waiting for her to rescind the invitation, he picked up the box and carried it inside.

“Booze,” Emma announced when they opened the flaps.

“That wanker!” Killian growled in outrage. Emma looked up from the box, perplexed. “When I can’t deliver something, I have to turn it in to him. And it’s up to him to decide if we repossess or keep trying to deliver it.”

“So he wanted you to come back all dejected, give you scolding, send you away like a puppy who chewed his favorite shoes, and then have a big laugh and drink to your gullible nature?”

“Sounds like the git.”

“Well, I dare say the joke’s on him this fine day. Don’t you agree?” A bottle of whiskey was withdrawn from the cardboard, and immediately thereafter Emma had planted herself in one of the chairs. “Glasses are in the cabinet next to the sink,” Emma waved in the general direction before opening the bottle.

Once returned with two drinking vessels, Killian took the bottle and poured them each a drink. “To knocking on the wrong door,” he said with a smile as he handed Emma a glass.

“I’ll drink to that.”

Somewhere in between the second bottle of Jameson and the first bottle of Kraken, the pair had migrated to Emma’s couch.

“You seem like an honest drunk,” Emma said with an impressive amount of conviction for having consumed so much alcohol. “Like you’d just spill all your secrets; the deepest, darkest corners of your heart laid bare.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I’m not drunk then,” he slurred.

“And why’s that?” Emma asked, leaning closer.

“Because then I’d have to tell you how you’re the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen.”

Emma blinked furiously, completely taken-aback by his words. “You cannot possibly be so naïve and get away with saying things like that.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because you’re – have you seen you?”

A smirk drew itself across Killian’s face. Eyes alight, he drew his tongue along his teeth trying to contain the boy like giddiness bubbling up inside him.

“Oh, now that’s just not fair,” Emma pouted.

He let out a hearty laugh, threw his arm over the back of the sofa, and beamed at her. In return she cast him a “pretending to be annoyed at you” scowl.

“Seems to me you may be an honest drunk too.”

“Ask me something and we’ll find out”

A sea of questions swirled through his head, but one in particular sailed above the others.

“Who’s August?”

“Hm?”

“When you opened the door, you said ‘You’re not August’.”

“Oh. My friend Ruby likes playing matchmaker. She set up a date for us at the diner. But he bailed. So…”

“I’m glad he stood you up.” Then Killian realized what he said. “I’m sorry, that sounded awful. I meant otherwise I’d probably still be looking for Todd Copper’s Ramshackle Whorehouse.”

Emma laughed and nestled in a little closer. “And I wouldn’t have scored an impressive box of booze. Not to mention you’re far better company.”

“Am I now?” Liquid courage coursing through his veins, Killian relocated his arm from the back of the couch to around Emma’s shoulders.

They talked of everything and nothing. Their childhoods: how he had wanted to be a pirate captain, she a warrior princess. And then they ceased to even talk at all for they had fallen asleep.

That is until a beeping steadily increased in volume and raised them from their slumber.

“Shit!” Emma yelled as she tore herself off of Killian and jumped off the couch. “I’m going to be late. Late, late, late, late, late,” she chanted as she ran about, gathering things strewn about her apartment.

Killian rubbed his face for a moment before looking his watch. How the hell had it come to be seven o’clock? He reached for his phone only to be reminded he had left it in the truck. Liam was sure as hell going to chew him out for this.

Then he caught Emma hopping about as she tried to shuffle into her boots, and knew it would all be worth it.

They hurriedly bumbled outside. And turned to look at each other.

“So… Thanks for tonight,” Killian managed, though all he wanted to do was continue gazing at her under the starlight. “I, um… would you ever consider- I mean. Would you like to go out sometime?” he stammered.

Emma looked at him seriously, and Killian’s heart fell. Just because drinking next to him was better than being stood up-

“I get off work at two,” she said.

“Erm?”

“The Enchanted Beanstalk Bar downtown. Here…” she withdrew a pen from her purse, narrowed the distance between them, grabbed his arm, rolled up the sleeve and wrote down the address.

“I’ll be there,” he said, slightly awed as she stepped back.

“Good,” she replied as she strode to her car.

With great effort, Killian turned at began down the driveway, walking back to his truck. Halfway down the block, he heard footsteps running towards him. A hand was in his elbow turning him around.

He had just long enough to see that it was Emma before she brought her lips to his. Not missing a beat he brought an arm around her waist to draw her in closer while he kissed her back. One of her hands tangled in his hair while the other clutched the lapel of his jacket as if it were the only thing holding her upright. The kiss was more heated, more passionate, held more promise, and was honestly just more than a first kiss had any right to be. Killian knew without a doubt it was the best goddamn kiss of his life. After far too long, and not nearly long enough, they parted for air.

“I’ll definitely be there.”

Late to Breakfast

onceuponadream32:

A short little drabble I wrote. Really hope you guys like it :) Feel free to send my any prompts for stories that you would like me to write. I would be happy to!

————————————————————————————————————————-

   For the first time in a very long time, Emma Swan is happy. Really happy. The kind of happiness that fills your very soul and makes you feel like you can do anything. The kind that makes you remember the entire purpose of living. The kind that is completely and utterly priceless. She has her parents.. and as overprotective and sappy as they may be, she is so grateful to have them in her life. For her entire childhood and a portion of her adult life, they were ghosts. People with no name or face, whom she didn’t remember or vision. Though they were always with her, like a lingering cloud of sorrow that just wouldn’t go away. Like a wound that would just fester and fester, but never heal. Little did she know that the cloud was never meant to be filled with sorrow. Her parents may not have remembered her, but their true selves did, and they loved her more than words could describe. And she knows that now, Oh does she know it. The looks of masked worry when she unknowingly tries to build up a wall, the not-so-hidden smirks and rolls of their eyes when she and a certain pirate get a little too affectionate, the bright looks in their eyes when she casually calls them “mom” and “dad”, and so much more. She has Henry, who she loves more than anything. The bright, loving, creative, brave and strong boy, (now teenager, but despite his annoyed groans, he will always be her little boy.) who never fails to make her smile and bring a feeling of pride into her heart. She often looks back on the day of her 28th birthday, when he found her and started a chain of events that would lead her here. Lying in bed on a Saturday morning, small rays of sunlight covering the room in a comforting glow, with a pirate who’s chest was currently resting beneath her ear, his arm hung loosely over her waist and their legs entwined between the sheets. Thinking about all of the wonderful people in her life always brought such a big smile to her face.

“Well Darling, I must say I’m quite flattered that you think of me this early in the morning.”

Killian said with a smirk as he ran his hand up and down her arm softly. Emma rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the smirk that tugged the corners of her lips upwards.

“And what makes you think I’m thinking of you? I think your ego is showing, Killian.

His smirk only grew at that.

“You forget, love, you’re an open book to me. And for clarification, if such a thing were to show,” He raised both of his hands to make air quotes for the word “show”, something he picked up from a now sarcastic Henry. “I’m sure it would be by your doing.”

He said with a wink and a raised eyebrow. Emma gave him a smirk of her own and punched him in the chest, causing both of them to chuckle.

Of course you would make an innuendo out of something as simple as that.”

Emma said as she brought her hand to rest over his heart.

“Pirate.”

Killian said in a mocking sing-song voice. Emma raised her head and turned to look at him as she ran her hand through the soft chest hair that peeked out from his t-shirt.

“Yeah.. But you’re my pirate.”

She said with a serious expression, and wide eyes as she fully realized what she had said. Killian’s smirk fell as he turned to face her, a look of hope on his handsome features. Emma was frozen, (the irony), in place, not sure of what to say. Sure she cared about him, a lot, but they hadn’t said the words to each other yet and quite frankly Emma wasn’t sure if she was ready. Deep in her heart she knew that Killian loved her, but actually acknowledging the intensity of his feelings for her sent a jolt of fear down her spine. Just as Killian was about to say something, Emma’s phone rang causing both of them to jump. Killian inwardly groaned at the interruption while Emma jumped up from the bed. She picked up her phone and saw that it was David. This is the only time I will actually be thankful for David interrupting us. Emma thought to herself as she answered the phone.

“Hey Dav-Dad. What’s up?”

She could practically hear him smiling from her calling him “dad”.

“Hey Emma. I was calling to see if you would want to meet me at Granny’s for breakfast in about an hour. My treat!”

“What’s the occasion?”

“Does a father need an occasion to buy his daughter an ungodly amount of pancakes and hot chocolate?”

David said with a laugh that made Emma grin. After all the horrible things they had gone through separate and together, (not to mention the drama with Elsa and dealing with The Snow Queen), it was nice to know that people could still find joy.

“I’ll be there.”

“Great. See you then, Emma.”

“Bye Dad.”

Emma hung up the phone just as Killian brought his arms around her waist and pressed a kiss into her hair.

“And just what does dear old Dave want now?”

Killian asked as he moved to pepper kisses along her jaw. Despite the previous tension, Emma relaxed into his touch with a sigh.

“Breakfast at Granny’s in an hour.”

Killian hummed warmly and brought her closer to his chest.

“Well that’s still quite a ways away, Swan. Any thoughts on how to occupy the time?”

Emma smiled and knew just how she wanted to occupy that time. But she might as well tease him a bit before. She forced the smile away and began to pull out of his embrace, much to Killian’s protests. She stood from the bed and turned to press a chaste kiss to his pouting lips.

“Shower and then a coffee.”

She answered, biting her cheek to keep from laughing at the way his eyes turned into those of a lost puppy. She got to the doorway of the bathroom before she broke. Damn pirate making her soft.

“Oh come on you, get in here.”

She said as she toyed with the hem of her tank top. Killian’s eyes lit up and he managed to mutter something along the lines of “bloody minx” and “so beautiful” before his lips were ravaging hers.

She ran 10 minutes late to breakfast.

emmaskilly;
23. cs :D

killians-dashingrescue:

meeting on a train ride au

            ———————————————————————————————

She hates taking the train. Hates it. It is always packed, she has nowhere to sit and she is fed up to have someone breathing down her neck every morning, the hot temperature that arises from having too many bodies in it, and the occasional pervert who grabs her ass. The ride is long and it’s only near the end of the line, that there’s a place for her to sit. She had considered of changing jobs for something closer to her place but the job hunting proved to be difficult. So this would have to do for now.

Like every morning, she hopped on the train, packed as usual but her tolerance for it was very thin since she had woken up late and almost missed the train. She tried to make her way through the small hall, but kept bumping into firm bodies who refused to let her go any further.

Assholes.

Emma was making her way through the back when the train pulled on the breaks suddenly making everyone unsteady on their feet, and she was the unlucky one who fell down on a firm body.

She was splayed on her knees, hands on someone’s thigh as she hold herself up, her hair fan out around her face like a curtain, and lifted her head up to look at the stranger she had fell on. She gulped hard seeing the handsome and attractive man in a suit that was grinning down at her when she realised the very awkward and very sexual position she was in, her head levelling with his crotch. She raised herself in a upward position, her cheeks going red as she straighten her clothes.

“Didn’t even let me buy you a drink first, eh?.” He teased her as his eyes followed her every movement, a smirk plastered on his handsome face. And damn her, for falling onto this man who besides being sexy as hell, had an accent that came to stir her hormones even more.

“Oh shut up.” She snapped back, going for an aggressive come back, her to go reaction as she tried to hide her embarrassment. What the hell is wrong with her?

“You are a feisty one aren’t you? Well I do love a challenge.” He replied to her with slight chuckle in his tone, clearly teasing her. Emma rolled her eyes at his comment.

“I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced, Killian Jones.” He said to her as he propelled his hand forward going in for a handshake. Emma looked at his hand with a distrustful look.

“Emma Swan.” She simply answered as she decided to keep her hands to herself.

“Where are my manners? Take the seat love.” He told her as he got up from it and offered it to her.

“Thanks, but it’s not necessary, this is my stop.” She lied to him as she tried to get as far away from him.

“See you soon Swan.” He yelled back as she was already half way through the corridor, and she hoped she wouldn’t see him again giving their awkward encounter.

And she damned herself when she saw him the next morning, sitting at the same seat looking at her with a huge grin.

Fuck.

 Send me a number and a pairing for an AU story.

swanfeels;
cs + 35, pretty please!

herotypes:

(A/N: set sometime in the future, established relationship. Also this got away from me… sorry?)

.

hold my hand –

.

She probably should’ve seen this coming. But apparently, there were just some things that even Captain Hook and his surprising ability to assimilate this world’s customs and it’s infernal (his word, not hers) devices – in retrospect, probably unsurprising, given he’s been alive for over 300 years and if that doesn’t make him a chameleon in the adaptable sense, then she’s at a loss – could be persuaded to try, or perhaps more accurately, overcome.

A goddamn fear of heights.

(She should’ve known.)

He reveals this little piece of information when they’re staring up at the Ferris wheel at Storybrooke’s (apparently annual) fair, and she blanches for a second – has to remind him when she recovers that once upon a time his pirate ship flew with Pegasus wings; that even she’s been on the Jolly when it was airborne. He scoffs; says Aye, and I was uncomfortable every second of it, following this up with a long-winded (and quite poetic, if she’s being honest) explanation of how he’s ‘a man of the sea’, how his first love had been the feel of the unyielding waters beneath the swaying deck of a ship.

She doesn’t have it in her to mock him after that – she does, however, put on her best pouting face, and definitely has the audacity to make it seem unintentional. He doesn’t budge, the stubborn bastard, and she fleetingly thinks this must be what it’s like to argue with herself because they’re a stubborn pair.

“Fine,” she says airily, shrugging her shoulders as she turns away. “I guess you wouldn’t be interested to know that the carriages can afford a decent amount of privacy if you want them to…”

It has the desired effect – his hook reaches out to curl around her arm, catching her mid-turn. His bright blue eyes darken a few shades as understanding dawns on his features, and childishly she thinks gotcha.

Read More