and the fact that he is still handcuffed to that chair when he goes to get up

Soon, I Hope.

@justcheckingstuffcs @dark-ones-dont-need-sleep @losttalongthewayy @leatherjacketsandrum @mrandmrsswan @naiariddle @raggedyclaraa @mayquita @thegladelf @onceuponiwishmytime @galadriel26 @captainswanslay @allofthismatters @caaptain-swan @jennjenn615 @strawberrycupcakeprincess @thelifeofannabanana @kmomof4 @supergirl42universe@blackwidownat2814@caaptain-swan@that-one–book-nerd@t-tamm-@blowmiakisscolin@willow154​ @onceuponaprincessworld 

***If I missed tagging you (or you want to be tagged from now on) drop me a message!

Okay folks! This is the follow-up Daddy!Killian piece of 280 Days. I need to apologize in advance because it’s not as cotton-candy fluffy as my norm, but there is still a VERY healthy dose of daddy!Killian. This is the first of I don’t know how many chapters. Minimum 3, maximum probable like 6. Also, I just recently got myself an AO3 account. So you can read it on there also. My username is the same. Thank you for all the support! ~ Jenn! 

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Up until this moment in time, Emma has never really regretted any of her mistakes. Sure, some of the ones she’d made were downright stupid and could’ve been avoided, but she couldn’t deny that most of the mistakes she’s made in her life (mainly the big ones) have eventually led to some form of good. For instance: was getting into the yellow bug with Neal a mistake? Probably, but now she has Henry. Was giving Henry up for adoption a mistake? Some days she wishes she hadn’t, but then she realizes that if she hadn’t done it, her family wouldn’t be nearly as big as it is now. Was handcuffing Captain Hook and trapping him at the top of a beanstalk a mistake? Definitely. 100%. But hey, now she’s married to him.

So, as Emma saw it, mistakes weren’t all that bad. On the contrary, they usually turned out beneficial, in the long run. Made her stronger, taught her something, helped her grow.

Until now.

***

Now, despite the fact that she’d been told multiple times that it’s highly advisable that she remain in her chair, she gets up. Not just because she wants to, but because she needs to. Needs to so viscerally that she feels like she might combust into flames if she doesn’t. She crosses the short distance from her chair to where her husband stands, hunched and broken, in between two very complicated looking contraptions. To any other he may appear fine, but not to her. The ache within her grows with each passing step because she can feel hopelessness boiling off him like steam from a screaming kettle. He hasn’t even realized she’s entered the room, but the minute her palms make contact with his shoulder blades, he loses it. He turns and leans into her, and she finds that suddenly she’s bearing a startling amount of his weight, (definitely against any and all recommendations for a woman in her state) but she manages. She manages because she knows that she needs to be the strong one this time, and that is non-negotiable. Yes, she needs to be strong, because this time, he just can’t. He’s hopeless and frail and more downright terrified then she’s ever seen him in all her life. And it’s with Killian’s chin sharp against her collarbone and his nails digging into her back and his ragged, breathless sobs flowing into her ear that she realizes what a colossal, terrible mistake she has made. And this mistake? No one will be benefiting from. No one will be learning from it or growing from it and it will not be leading to anything but pain. And honestly? If she could go back in time and erase it, there’s not any doubt in her mind that she would.

**** hours earlier.****

Dr Cameron speaks calmly, but her words still chill Killian to the bone.

“So Baby A still isn’t progressing all that far into the birth canal, and he’s starting to experience mild fetal distress. So, although I know it’s not in your birth plan, I’m going to suggest we do a cesarean. We can wait another half hour to see if he goes further down, but I’d agree to do it now if that’s what you want me to do.”

Fetal distress? DISTRESS? Killian’s heart is racing at a mile a minute and all the beeping going on is doing nothing to help. Cesarean? He’d read about that. That’s where they make an incision and then—

“Yes, I’m fine with that,” Emma nods, her sweaty brow furrowed. “I just want them out.”

Killian also nods, not because he necessarily assents but because he feels like he should. He’s still locked on the words fetal distress, and he stares at the screens surrounding Emma’s hospital bed, desperately wishing he had a better understanding of what they all mean. Emma squeezes his hand, and he turns his attention back to her. She’s been ridiculously calm this entire time, and he has not a clue how she’s managing it. He loves her fiercely for it.

“Hey. Come here,” she orders, and he crouches obediently. She reaches her hand up, being careful of her IV, and tugs him in for a quick, reassuring kiss. “It’s going to be okay, Killian. It won’t be long now. The doctor’s going to take them out surgically. Like, she’s gunna cut me open. It sounds scary but it’s a perfectly safe procedure. It’ll be safer for the babies that way. They’ll let you stay with me while it happens, but you’re gunna have to change into special clothes that they give you. They’re called scrubs. It’s okay. They’ll be here soon, okay? Remember what my dad told you. Focus on being excited, not on being worried.”

Killian gulps but nods, forcing a smile and taking her hand. Emma rubs the back of his fingers with her thumb, knowing for a fact that he’s totally freaked out. Medical personnel rush around her, getting things ready, and she sees Killian watching them, his bottom lip pulled tight between his teeth. “Hey,” she says again, tugging on his hand. “Just focus on me, Killian,” she says gently. “Eyes on me. We’re doing this together, okay?”

“Okay, Swan,” he says. “Okay.”

The next hour is a blur, and when he thinks back on it, all he can really remember of the procedure is holding Emma’s hand while he sat by her head. There was a tall sheet separating them from Emma’s abdomen and the doctors, and before he knew it, Dr. Cameron was holding up the tiniest human being he’d ever laid eyes on in his life. “Here’s Baby A!” she said happily, and Emma’s gasp matched his. The baby was immediately handed off to someone, and after a minute his wails filled the room. That’s when Killian’s tears started. He didn’t know where to look, whether at Emma or the baby or at the doctor who was busy retrieving the other baby. A few minutes passed and a second tiny boy was hoisted in the air, purpler than the first. “Here’s your baby B!”

“Killian, we did it!” Emma exclaimed, wiping the tears from her eyes. “Our boys!”

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every week to every day

summary: 30. Bartender/Landlord AU - Person A comes in regularly at the same time every week and has a friendly relationship with the bartender (Person B) but then they don’t turn up and Person B gets worried. send me a prompt from this list. requested by bisexual-killian-jones.

word count: ~ 2,900

rating: b badass emma in the beginning

a/n: i’m tired


He owns The Jolly Roger. She is a successful FBI agent situated in New York.

It’s not often his pub ends up as a fight scene by the end of the quiet evenings, a table and chair wrecked, blood splattered across the floor, and an unconscious man facedown while being handcuffed by the most beautiful, strong woman he’s ever seen. Not often does he have the pleasure of spending some time with this believably, incredible blonde while he cleans up and gets her a drink, watching her down and swallow it all within seconds.

“Drinking on the job, love?

"One - not your love.” She slams her glass down, needing a refill. “Two - today’s job is over.”

Ah, she’s a bloody spitfire, stubborn, demanding, straightforward as anyone can ever be. He takes her empty glass, refilling it with the same tequila.

“Took the team and I an entire week to track this asshole down for his drug trafficking, I’m in due for some drinks,” she mutters her reasoning, drinking the tequila the moment he hands her the glass, fingers barely ghosting. When he tells her to slow down, she merely grimaces. “Look, I’m tired, I just want my drink.”

“As I own this place, I’d say I have a fair ability at kicking you out since it’s past closing hours now.”

“And I can kick your ass.”

Quite unhappy at the moment, he can tell. And yet, he can’t help but tease her, to play with her fire so she’ll burn even brighter with the risk of him hurting himself. “No doubt - is than an offer, darling?” he asks, using a cloth to wipe out used glasses and tumblers.

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