Good Morning

Mornings are hectic. Sometimes she can barely make it out of the front door with both shoes on and her jacket. She’s lucky if she even has time to run a brush quickly through the tangled mess of curls her blonde hair becomes sometime during the night. 

When she runs out the door and hurries to her bug she anticipates throwing open the door, sticking the key in, and gunning that trusty yellow baby all the way down to the sherifs office; glad that the only person able to give her a speeding ticket is herself. 

But he’s standing there- leaning more, really- by the bug, two coffee cups sitting on the hood. He’s got his hand in his pocket, and his hook perched slightly on his hip. His clothes are clean and ironed and his hair is tousled perfection. 

"Killian?" Emma asks, breath fogging in the air. 

She’s pulling a hair band from her wrist and gathering bunches of hair at the back of her head, putting her hair up and out of her face. 

Killian smiles at her, almost as radiant as the sun beginning to spill out over Storybrooke. 

"Morning, love," Killian greets her. 

He holds out a cup of coffee to her and presses a warm kiss to her cold cheeks. His scruff tickles her jaw and she feels a spark in her stomach, something like waking up after a long nap. 

"Thank you," Emma murmurs, a little overwhelmed at the sweet, simple gesture. She hadn’t ever had the selfless kind of relationship thing since… well, ever. 

"I knew you’d be in a rush," Killian says. "I was hoping to catch you before you left."

"Any reason in particular?" 

"Do I have to have a reason to bring you coffee?" 

"No, it’s just that… it’s… it’s nice.”

He smiles softly at her, knowing why she ducks her head in embarrassment as she fumbles with the keys to unlock the car door. 

Killian covers her hand with his, stilling her shaking fingers. The cold metal handle on the car door digs into the side of her jeans as she takes a step back, sucking in a sharp breath. She feels tears threatening to compromise her relatively dry eyes and she feels so unbelievably stupid.

She should not be getting emotional over a cup of coffee. 

Killian dips his head, brushing his nose against hers, pressing his lips to hers in short little pecks. 

"Hey," he whispers. "It’s still strange for me sometimes. Looking over at you and watching you watch me out of the corner of your eye. The way your hand absently reaches out for me. Caring for me. I-"

"I’ve never had anything like it," they say together. 

An "I love you" hangs so thickly in the air that it could be cut with a knife and served up on a plate. But the either knows that it goes without saying. For not, anyways. 

I love you. 

I love you too.

I’d choose you over and over.

In a hundred different lifetimes. 

"I’ll walk over to the station sometime around lunch to bring you takeout from Granny’s," Killian says. 

"Good," Emma replies. 

She reluctantly pulls away from him with one more quick kiss and another thank you for the coffee before she gets in the car and drives away to work. 


He brings her lunch. 

She picks him up after work. 

They fall into a routine of taking care of each other. Relationship bliss. 

And he always, always brings her coffee- rain or snow, late or early for work- every morning. 

The darkness makes her brave.

When she was a little girl, lost in a sea of revolving faces— some kind, some not— the darkness kept her company. It was safety, it was warmth. It hid her from the dangers of the light, from harsh faces and harsher words, from loneliness, from disappointment. The night was her blanket and she painted her dreams in the stars.

Keep reading

[  tangled. ]

"Dammit, now we’re all tangled."

"We’ve been tangled for some time, love.”

"Cute. Here, lift your arm and I’ll put this cord over…"

"Actually, I think you need to reach ‘round my back…"

"That doesn’t make any sense."

"Swan, I am a sailor and an expert in the tying and untying of knots. Go on, arms around me. That’s a lass. Now I’ll put my arm here and my hand here…"

"How is this helping."

"Oh it’s definitely helping, darling, I promise. Now step closer, mmmhmm, good."

"You’re ridiculous."

"And yet, you seem quite happy to be tangled with me.”

"Maybe a little."

"Just a little? Hmm, that rainbow burst of magic we conjured not too long ago seems to suggest otherwise."

"Fine! Maybe a lot."

"That’s what I thought."

Dedicated to my most precious kittens in the whole wide world, the-lady-swancaptainhand, in hopes to bring some much needed cheer.


It’s fiercely cold as they trawl through the tree farm, following the tracks Henry’s new snow boots are making before they can disappear beneath a fresh layer of snow. He’s busy inspecting each and every fir, spruce and pine they come across for potential flaws — no tree can be too tall, thin, wide, long or bristly in his opinion.

"Second to last on the right, kid." Emma nods as she wraps her arm further around the warm man at her side, steering him toward a thick, snow-dappled tree that has a price tag with only two zeroes attached to it. "What do you think?"

Henry gives it a tentative once over, bending at the hip to lift a large branch and inspect the tree from below. He turns back to Emma with a scrunched-up nose and a quick shake of his head, unsatisfied with her choice.

Killian groans and squeezes her shoulder impatiently and Emma can’t stifle the giggle that rises up from her chest in response. It’s the sixth tree he’s shot down, they’ve been outside for a good forty minutes (fifty at the very least, Swan, he whines in her ear) and as patient as he’s being, Emma knows Killian can’t take much more of the cold, despite whatever warmth the new peacoat she bought him has to offer.

She flits her eyes up to his and watches snowflakes tumble into his hair, his eyebrows, the reddish-brown patches of hair in the scruff on his cheeks, and for a moment Emma forgets she can’t feel the tip of her nose. Blue eyes lock with green and she grins wider, imitating the way he raises his brow as best she can.

"Henry!" She calls suddenly over her shoulder, holding his gaze as his hand trails to her elbow. "If you don’t find something in ten minutes we’re taking the closest one to the car."

Emma tucks her mittened hand around the lapel of his coat and gives him a gentle shove, pushing them further toward what’s probably the only secluded corner in the entire farm. Before he can ask her what she’s doing she hauls him against her, pressing her cold lips to his. He still tastes like the hot chocolate they drank in the car as he wraps her in his arms and kisses the cold right out of her bones.

Footsteps shuffle on the other side of the tree they’re hiding behind and Emma sighs as he tucks her close, his hand creeping up to cradle her head to his chest.

"Much as I hate the cold, darling," he murmurs happily, kissing her head through the thick cable knit of her beanie. "I think I like keeping you warm."

Killian sat at the counter at Granny’s as he nursed on his cold beer while he aimlessly fiddled with his smart phone.  He was getting the hang of it…and very close to becoming addicted to it. 

He scowled at the screen when he saw that Henry hit him with 45 points on Words With Friends and then grumbled under his breath as he burrowed his brows in concentration.   The little scoundrel had beaten him twice in a row now and he’d be damned if he’d lose to him again.

“Take that, lad,” he said under his breath as he hit send, grinning when he saw his impressive score of 75 points flash on the screen. 

He chuckled softly as he lifted his beer but just as he was about to take a sip, a small tug on his jacket had him pulling away.  He looked down at the culprit and smiled when he saw Roland looking up at him.   “Hello there, mate.”

“Hey, Uncle Killian!” he exclaimed before he started to climb up onto the stool.

Killian started to help him, but then caught himself when he remembered Roland was going through an independent stage.  He wanted to do everything by himself.  “How’s it going, lad?” he asked once his butt was safely planted on the seat. 

“You and Aunt Emma are watching me this weekend!” he informed him as if he didn’t already know. 

“Aye…that we are.”  He swiveled in his seat so that he would be facing him.  “We’ll have some fun, won’t we?”

“Will you take me out on your ship?”

“Of course,” he said with a grin as he nuzzled his head.  “Only if you’ll be my first mate.”

His little dimples flashed as he shot him a grin.  “Can Henry come, too?”

“I don’t see why not…would you like Granny to get you something?  How ‘bout a root beer float?  You fancy those if I remember.”

When he nodded enthusiastically, he smiled before turning his attention to Granny, ordering him his root beer and then another beer of his own. 

“Uncle Killian?” he asked as he curled his little fingers over his hook.  “Will you spin me with your hook?  Like you did last time?”

His lips lifted up in amusement as he got to his feet, holding his hook high above Roland’s hand.  When he had a firm grip he gently pulled his hook away, until he slid off the stool.  Roland’s giggled echoed the diner as he dangled himself from his hook and then Killian’s deep chuckle joined as he twirled his hook, back and forth, sending the lad spinning in circles one way and then the other.

When he felt as if his arm was about to fall off, he finally plopped Roland back on the stool.  “That’s enough for now, Roland,” he said before he could protest.  “Your root beer float is here…and so is mine I see.”

Roland stood up on his knees as he took his first long sip and then smacked his lips in appreciation.  “Can I play with your hook?” he asked him, cocking his head slightly to the side as he looked at him with those big, puppy dog eyes.

Bloody hell…how did Robin or Regina ever say no to this kid?   He shook his head hopelessly as he detached his brace that held his hook.  “Mind the tip, lad…it’s quite sharp.”

“I’ll be careful ,” he promise as he shifted back on his butt while he let Killian carefully put it on his right hand.  “Cool!  Hey!  Aunt Emma, look!  I’m a pirate!”

Emma laughed as she came up next to him, sliding onto the stool on the other side.  “So, I see…nice hook you got there, captain.”

Roland giggled as he held up the hook.  “I gonna make ye walk the plank!!”

Killian and Emma shared an amused look over Roland’s head, before Emma gave Roland a dramatic gasp.  “Oh, no, me?  You’re truly the most vicious pirate in all the realms!”

“No, no, not you, Aunt Emma!” he protested as he shook his head.  “I’m not a mean pirate, I’m a good pirate…like Uncle Killian!”  He narrowed his eyes as he pointed the hook out in front of him.  “Only villains like that mean old witch or Peter Pan walk the plank!”

“Well, don’t you three make quite the picture,” Ruby said as she passed by and then paused to pull out her phone.  “You three get together…I’ll take a picture.”

Killian just smiled as he leaned towards Roland while Emma did the same, playfully holding up the hook while Roland’s dimples deepened as he grinned proudly at the camera.

“Perfect!” Ruby said once she looked at it.  “I’ll be sure to send it to you both.”

“Thanks, Ruby,” Emma said as she ran a hand over Roland’s hair. 

“Roland!” Robin’s voice carried from across the room.  “Let’s go, buddy…time to go home!”

Roland handed Killian his hook back before carefully crawling down the stool to the floor.  “Bye Uncle Killian!  Bye Aunt Emma!  See you this weekend!”

“He’s quite the handful,” Emma said as they watched him run off to Robin and Regina.  “We’ll have our work cut out for us this weekend.”

“It’s good practice.”

Emma looked over at her husband and grinned.  “I suppose so.”

Killian shifted off his stool so he could stand close to her, placing his hand on the slight slope of her belly.  “How are we feeling, love?”

She smiled softly as she placed one hand over his and touched his scruffy cheek with the other.  “We’re feeling just fine, Dad…”  She leaned up and covered his mouth with hers in a soft, lingering kiss. 

He let out a shaky breath as he pressed his forehead against hers.  “My heart always skips a beat when you say that…dad…I’m going to be a dad.”

She sighed as she circled her arms around his neck, bringing him closer.  “Are you scared?”

“No…maybe…”  He sighed as he closed his eyes.  “Aye…I’m terrified.”

“Good…that makes two of us.”

He nuzzled her neck.  “Let’s go home,” he murmured in her ear.    “I’ll brew you some tea..then draw you a bath.”  He playfully nipped at her jaw.  “And then join you.”

“Hmmm.”  Her eyes fluttered as she leaned back for another kiss.  “That sounds perfect.”

He lifted her off the stool and cradled her into his arms before giving her another kiss, while occupants of the diner whistled and hollered encouragement, causing Emma to laugh against his lips.  “Let’s get out of here, pirate.”

“As you wish.”

"Emma. No."



"It’s what she wants to be. I think it’s sweet."

"It’s not even bloody accurate!"

"But it’s bloody cute.”

"How things got so twisted between realms is egregious. Probably the work of the sodding Crocodile. Like the part when I get eaten by the beast? Yeah bloody right."

[muffled laughter]

"Are you laughing at me?"

"Of course not."

"You are."

"Look, it’s only for a couple hours. She’s all excited to be just like her papa."

"Except her papa has never sported that travesty that is a purn or whatever you call it!"


[heavy sigh]

"It’s not like we could swaddle a four year old in 50 lbs of black leather to keep it accurate, Killian. And if you’re good, maybe we can engage in some…sword play…later."

"It’s not fair using your wiles to get round me that way. You know I’m powerless to resist."

"I do know and I’m not even slightly sorry. Now c’mon, Captain, grab your mini-me and let’s hit the streets before all the good candy is gone."

"Bloody hell."

(photo credit)

A/N: Follow up to 4.02 because I’M NOT OKAY. 


She looks adorable all layered up with blankets – her hands outstretched as she takes the mug of hot chocolate from her son, her smile wide when Henry mentions something about extra cinnamon – the colour having returned to her cheeks and lips, her hair once again soft beneath his fingers.

Relief at her wellbeing anchors deep in his chest and he can’t seem to drag his eyes from her, much less his touch, tracing patterns onto her shoulder with the pads of fingers, contentment humming beneath his skin at the way she does the same; her fingers shifting so they can lace properly through his, caressing his wrist as she talks to Elsa.

She has a spot of whipped cream clinging to her upper lip after she takes a sip from her mug and he grins, swiping his thumb over it and licking it off. He hums at the taste and swipes more cream from the top of her mug. He chuckles at the look she gives him – borderline indignant – smile lingering as she arches her neck to call over to the kitchen.

“Henry, can you make Killian one? He’s stealing mine.”

Keep reading

(But Most Of All) I Like The Way You Move

Rating: S for Smuff (sort of, mostly for talking about sexytimez)

Word Count: 1615

A/n: Got this idea while daydreaming about fanfic at work. Go figure. lol

His chuckle rumbled from deep in his chest, a silken, happy sound that reverberated through her like a warm, soothing pulse, swimming through her veins and spreading through her body like a slow burn.

Emma loved these moments.

She used to hate them, avoided them at all costs – but not with Killian.

These relaxing, gentle seconds just after making love, his body still suspended over hers, a firm, pleasant weight pressing her down into the bed at Granny’s, his muscles trembling from exertion, always careful not to crush her - she actually liked this now. He nuzzled his nose into the crook of her neck, pressing a final, chaste kiss there and then pulling back, a lazy smile on his face, just staring (he did that a lot, she didn’t mind it so much anymore either).

“Mmm,” he hummed, his smile widening, making tiny dimples appear that she hadn’t noticed were there. “I like that.”


He shifted his weight above her to rest on his bad arm, lifting a hand to brush her cheek, illustrating exactly what he meant. “The way you flush when you’re sated.” His hand drifted down her face, fingers tracing lines down her neck. “And your neck,” he dropped a kiss there as he spoke, “and your shoulders, and your breasts,” he murmured, his hand continuing its trail down her side. “You look lovely in red, Swan.”

Emma felt her blush deepen as his eyes burned into hers, all sincerity and playful passion that she was only beginning to get used to seeing, his thumb tracing light circles at her hipbone. He finally broke eye contact and dipped to kiss a line between her breasts and she felt her pulse quicken, unconsciously pushing herself up to meet his touch.

They’d just had sex and he could still make her heart race. It was strange.

She was tired. She was satisfied (in so many ways that she couldn’t even begin to explain). But she didn’t want to leave bed. She didn’t want to stop touching him.

It was so new.

She couldn’t deny how alive he made her feel, how wanted. She didn’t know exactly what this is, shied away from what everyone said they were and what that meant, but she could get used to this.

He drew back, blue eyes shimmering with an overwhelming amount of love, hope, satisfaction (she loved that she had her part in putting all three there). Emma sighed, just watching him for a moment, wanting to end the silence, pay him a compliment, tell a tension breaking joke - nothing came to mind.

Of course nothing came to mind.

There was so much to compliment, too much to sort through. He was gorgeous, he was kind, he was attentive, he was- he was perfect and the fact that she knew that he wasn’t, that he knew that he wasn’t even close (and he said it often), made her initial thoughts feel all the more correct.

She didn’t know how to say it – she never had. She wasn’t used to compliments and she rarely gave them, and it made times like this difficult.

“You bite your lip,” she said finally.

“What’s that?”

“When you’re close. Sometimes you- you bite your bottom lip and look down,” she paused, gauging his reaction, encouraged by the interest in his expression and the way the blue of his eyes darkened slightly. “like you’re watching yourself, us,” she stumbled, feeling herself only grow redder - nerves more than embarrassment.

She didn’t know how to do this. Intimacy. But she was trying.

He hummed again, his smile twisting into an amused smirk. “Does it bother you?”

“No,” she answered honestly, running her teeth over her own lip and smiling. “I kinda like it. You really, I don’t know, get in the zone.” Her eyes flitted back to meet his steady gaze. “It’s kinda hot.”

He chuckled, leaning down and covering her mouth with his. Their kiss was slow and deep, his tongue sliding and tangling in a leisurely dance with hers and she savored his soft groan as he pulled away and rolled to the side – slightly disappointed by the loss of his weight against her.

Seconds passed. Emma could feel old instincts rise, her mind wandering to her schedule for the rest of the day – shower so you don’t smell like pirate, grab some lunch, pick up Henry from Regina’s after dinner – she was just about to tell him that they should get up when-

“I like the way you roll your hips when I’m on top,” he commented casually, turning his head to look at her as if he were simply telling her the time of day, as if this conversation was normal (and it felt like it was, god, maybe it could be). “You move like you’re in control, moving just how you want, taking me even from below,” he snickered, fingers skimming along her taught stomach, leaning close to kiss her shoulder. “I find it… quite sensual.”

“I guess I’m just used to doing all the work if I want it to be good.”

“Aye!” His brow furrowed, his face twisting into mock offense, the smile still playing at the corners of his mouth because the ache in his muscles and the way she was still limp and boneless on her side of the bed told him it wasn’t personal. “I resent that.”

“I didn’t mean you,” she retorted, playfully smacking him in the chest. “If you meet some guy at a bar and you’re both drunk, it’s not like it’s usually this deep, intimate experience,” she shrugged, “It’s just – sex. I was used to that.”

“No longer necessary, love,” he promised (it sounded too much like a promise than a brag, it really did).

She smiled, reaching out, fingers lightly grazing his biceps and curving around the muscle there, unable to find it in her to care at this point if it was a promise.

“I like it when you bite.”

He arched his eyebrows, mouth quirking into a grin. “So you like it rough, Swan?”

“We’ve been sleeping together for two weeks, you tell me, pirate,” she replied smoothly, arching her own brow to match his until he chuckled. “You never do it too hard, just enough.”

“I think I do a lot of things just enough, don’t you?” he whispered, enunciating each word meticulously, knowing exactly what it did to her. He inched his hand over her waist, wrapping his arm around her and urging her onto her side so that they were flush together again, their faces only inches apart. “I like when you tell me that you’re close.”

She opened her mouth to speak.

Not that I can’t tell it on my own,” he assured her quickly (this time he was definitely bragging), “but I enjoy hearing it.”

Emma smirked and ran a palm up his chest, toying with the dark, coarse hair there, watching his chest slowly rise and fall before looking back up and knowing full well that he’d like this next one.

“I like the way you look when you come.”

His brows quirked once more, tongue flicking out to swipe a line along his lower lip. “Do you then?”

“Yeah. You got a problem with that?” she teased, sliding her hand higher onto his shoulder.

“Not a one. Well then, I like the way that you sound,” he nuzzled her neck. “I like the way you curse like a bloody sailor just before,” he kissed her sweetly. “And during,” he added as an afterthought. “And how you always say my name just a bit louder a few seconds into it, just before your body relaxes. Quite loud, actually,” he laughed, pinching her ass, making her jump.

“I do not.”

“Oh yes you do, love,” he chuckled, nosing her chin up so he could trail featherlight kisses down the column of her throat, rubbing his hips against hers sensuously. “It’s what sent me over the bloody edge. Hearing you practically scream for me, knowing the pleasure I’m responsible for,” he mumbled, his tone sounding slightly strained as he kissed her neck. “I’d originally thought to try for another but that just… gods, but you’re irresistible, Swan.”

She laughed, threading her fingers through his hair “Oh, so Captain Hook doesn’t have the stamina he seems to think that he does?”

Killian growled, hand curving around to grip her ass, tugging her against him firmly. “You’re sailing dangerous water, Darling. Don’t tempt me to prove myself.”

"I think I could handle it… but not now. You win this time," she sighed, letting her sore, used self melt into the pillow (into his arms), feeling the pull of sleep begin its insistent tug.

There was a long pause before either of them spoke and she was just starting to drift off when she heard him, quiet but there.

“I like the way that your heart can’t be taken, except by me.”

Emma opened her eyes to see his, full of love but scared, just a little, that maybe he was wrong, maybe he could still lose her like he’d lost everyone else. She swallowed hard, staring back at his throat, watching him swallow too, his jaw tightening, setting into a sharp line at the heavy turn of the conversation. Finally, she nodded. She wrapped her arm around his shoulder and pulled him close, burying her face into his neck and kissing him there gently, hoping that the action said everything that she couldn’t say yet.

I’m not going anywhere. I need you. I love you.

“Yeah. Me too.”

She snuggled in closer after a moment, sighing contentedly when his arms tightened around her.

It had been a long, tiring day and a night at Granny’s was the perfect way to end it. Her parents sat across from her with her baby brother standing proudly on her mom’s lap while she held his tiny hands out for balance. And when Neal looked up to see Killian walking towards them, he smiled so big that his pacifier popped right out of his mouth and clattered onto the table.

“Well, looks like someone is happy to see me,” Killian said as he slid in next to Emma and perched his arm around her.

“He’s not the only one,” Emma said as she leaned into him.

She offered her lips to him and he happily accepted, as he gently brushed them with his. “Miss me, Swan?”

“Maybe a little,” she teased before giving him another kiss, before resting her head on his shoulder. Her heart gave a little flutter his lips touched the crown of her head, lingering as he breathed her in.

“Just look at you two,” Snow sighed as he plopped Neal’s pacifier back in his mouth. “Looking all happy.”

“Yeah,” David grumbled, shaking his head. “How the hell did that happen?”

Emma broke out in a happy grin as she snuggled closer and felt Killian’s shoulders shake with silent laughter “I don’t know, Dad.” She glanced up at Killian and noticed his smile and then waited until he looked back down at her. “But I’m glad it did.”

“Aye,” Killian agreed with a soft smile and when she reached up to touch his face, he bent down for another kiss, this time letting it linger as everything else began to fade away.

“Okay, okay,” David’s voice finally said. “This is a family place you two.”

They pulled apart, but didn’t look away from each other.

“C’mon, Jones,” David said after another moment of silence. “How bout a round of darts? Loser buys next round.”

“Another time, mate,” he said sparring him a quick glance before returning his gaze to Emma. “I’m quite content where I am.”

Emma smiled and snuggled back into him as he circled his arm more securely around her. “Why don’t you play mom? Bet she can kick your ass.”

“Oh do you now?” he asked with an arched brow and looked over at his wife, who was looking way too smug for his liking. “And what do you think, my dear?”
“Not only can I kick your ass, Charming…I can do it while holding a squirming Neal.”

“Oh, you are on,” David said as he got to his feet. “And loser has to change his dirty diapers for a week.”


As she watched her parents walk off, Emma sighed as she nestled into Killian and took a long, indulgent sip of her wine. “Think my dad can beat her?”

Killian snorted. “Not a chance in hell.”

Sorry about the mess.

A/N: So I was looking at this AU masterpost, and then I saw Tried breaking into my flat when they were drunk bc they thought it was theirs au. And then this happened. To say it got away with me would be a pretty big understatement. 3100 ~ words of I don’t even know.


She shouldn’t have forgotten her key.

(She probably shouldn’t of drank this much either, or gone out at all for that matter, but she can blame Ruby for both of those in the morning.)

(Right now, she just really needs her fucking key.)

She groans as she helplessly palms the wood of her door. She lives alone so there’s no hope of knocking, and in a flash of sudden, drunken wisdom and courage (done this loads of times, she thinks) she fumbles in her hair for two bobby pins. She kicks of her heeled boots and kneels down, bending the pins and pushing them blindly into the lock.

She tries to remember anything she’s ever known about lock picking, ignores the fact that all her successes have been sober ones and continues. If she can just get in she can curl up in her bed, sleep off all those shots and then take double doses of painkillers for her hangover.

“Come on.” She punctuates the word by ramming the pin sharply into the lock. Her sense of concentration isheightened as she feels something from within, and with as much care as she can offer in this state she pushes and twists with the other pin, until…


Keep reading

three times emma swan married killian jones

a/n:  Happy Valentine’s Day to all of my sweet followers! I’ve had this in my drafts for the longest time and I figured, what better day to share it with everyone than today? I hope you enjoy it! <3


The first time Emma Swan marries Killian Jones, it is spur of the moment. He’d proposed like that, too, yelled that he wanted to marry her in the middle of an argument regarding the latest villain to come to town. She’d yelled back that she wanted to be his wife, and it sort of all just happened.

They have been engaged for two and a half months when it happens.

Keep reading

So picture Hook and Emma in her room in her apartment just shortly after her memories return. She's packing while Killian lingers near by....

"This painting of you and Henry here…it’s quite good. Very lifelike."

Emma turned her attention away from her packing and smiled. “It’s not a’s a photograph.”

Killian picked up the frame. “A what?”

Emma dropped her clothes and went to him. “It’s a way to capture a memory in this world. Henry and I took this a few months ago…it’s a selfie.”

He turned to look at her. “A selfie? What the bloody hell is a selfie?”

"I’ll show you," she said with a smile as she fished out her smart phone from her pocket. She then scooted behind him and pressed her cheek against his as she held out her file. "Smile!"


"Just look at the tiny machine in my hand and smile!" She ordered between her teeth as she smiled

Killian did as she said, giving the weird rectangular box his best, most genuine smile.

"There," she said as she took the machine away and immediately began to fiddle with it.

"What are you doing?"

"Hang on."

Moment later, a noise turned his attention to another machine across the room on a writing desk. When Emma began to walk toward it, he followed her…looked over her shoulder as he something began to spit out of the machine.

Emma snatched the photo when it was done and turned to face him. “Here you go…a selfie.”

Hook took it and when he looked down his heart literally skipped a beat. He saw himself looking back at him, along with Emma…smiling brightly as their cheeks pressed close together. It was so real…as if it would come to life at any minute. “Emma,” he finally murmured as he looked up from the photo into her eyes. “This is magical.”

She grinned. “No…it’s called technology.”


He smiled as he handed the photo back to her, but she simply placed her hand on his wrist to stop him. “You keep it.”

"Really?" he asked hopefully.

"Sure…in fact." She lifted her smart phone again and the printer spit out another copy. "This will be mine."

He smiled again as he looked back down at his. “I will cherish this always, Swan.” He tucked the photo between his fake hand and chest so he could lift his hand and tucked her sit behind her ear. “Thank you.”

"You’re welcome." She studied her photo again. "You’re very photogenic."

"Is that a good thing?"

She laughed softly. “Yes…it’s a good thing. It means you take good pictures.”

He gave the photo last glance before tucking it inside his jacket next to his heart. “I’ve spent the past year without you, Swan…now you’re here in front of me, but it’s nice to know that if we are ever apart I can pull this…selfie out and think of you.”

Emma felt her heart tumble painfully in her chest. “Killian,” she whispered as her eyes shifted to his lips.

He stepped closer to her, leaned in as he reached up to touch the side of her face. “Emma….”


Henry’s loud voice had them both springing apart. “I’m done packing!”

"Okay!" Emma called out. "We will be right there!"

Killian smiled softly as he took a step back. “I’ll go join him…let you finish.”

"Okay…yeah…we probably need to get on the road soon."


He turned away from her and walked to the door, only to turn back to look at her. “Swan.”


"You are quite photogenic as well."

He then winked and walked out of her room and out of sight.

Emma smiled as she looked down at their photo again and the pressed against her heart like it was her most cherished possession. “You’re in trouble, Swan…big trouble.”

"Killian, what are you — 

Emma lets out an oomph as he picks her up and tosses her over his shoulder with determination, pulling her right out the front door and away from the main streets of Storybrooke. The words rum barrels heavier than you plaster themselves in her mind as she protests, intermittent flakes falling sideways in her line of sight. Of course he decides now is a good time when she says they should go see what the harbor looks like when the snow falls on the water. Of course he doesn’t think it’s going to be a problem that their coats got left behind in their booth at Granny’s. 

"Be patient, we’re almost there," he grunts when her elbow accidentally jabs into his ear, shoving the back of his earring into the sensitive skin hidden by his hat.

"There was a perfectly good car parked outside the diner."

"This is faster."

"You don’t know that. There might have been ice on the road."

He bounces her to shift his grip as they move along and it’s really only a few minutes until she feels sand under her own boots, but she grumbles anyway about manhandling and can walk by myself, thanks very much and definitely ignores the grin on his face. He can’t seem to stop smiling at her no matter what she says to him, and Emma wonders if he even feels the cold, because she can’t see him shivering a bit in the (stupidly attractive) crewneck he’s wearing.

"See?" he says brightly, reaching out to slip his hand into hers with a kind of ease that makes her shiver and completely ignoring the stubborn frown she’s trying to send his way, "Told you we’d be the only ones out here."

Their hands swing together as they walk down the empty pier, bereft of every seagull and sandpiper that normally finds its home at the docks. The cold is not at the forefront of her mind when they sit together like this, legs dangling above a rapidly-freezing sea, her shoulder settled against his. It’s a quiet moment, the longest one they’ve had since breaking the latest curse if she thinks about it, and for once there are no friends to comfort, no injuries to bandage. 

Emma moves his hooked arm so it sits around her waist instead and huddles into his side, giving him a bit of her warmth because she knows he won’t directly ask. Her nose is cold against his collarbone just like his hand is cold in hers, and she wonders if he knew she needed this before she did herself.

"My dad said he wants to go tree hunting later on," she finally says to break the silence. "How’s that hook hold up against wood?" 

She expects a teasing reply, but he surprises her by stiffening instead.

"Was that invitation extended to me?"

Emma’s sure she can hear worry in the question, just like she’s sure he can feel the way every breath she takes seems to wait for the heartbeat in his chest, and that’s when she realizes she’s not the only one who’s been trying to cram her emotions down her throat. His eyes are full in all senses of the word and she was stupid to think it was just her, stupid not to realize it before now.

It’s not just that he still doesn’t really understand the traditions of Christmas or that she’s still not really sure what he does with the little time they don’t spend together. It’s that he spent the morning with her family at the breakfast table, sat next to her and listened to them make plans about the holidays without thinking he’d get to be a part of it.  

Emma’s eyes flutter up to his, which are now locked on the bay in front of him. Two of his heartbeats go by before she answers in the steadiest voice she can muster.

"That’s what he meant when he said it was a family thing. If you’re up to it."

Killian answers her by bringing their interlocked hands to his lips and kissing the space where their thumbs are hooked together, relief so evident on his face that she almost feels like crying herself.

"I’m always up for spending time with you, love," he manages to answer with a tiny nod. "Always."

anonymous asked:

could u write a fic of Emma and Hook watching netflix? :)

A/N:  Omg you literally read my mind. I’ve been wanting to write this all day. Follow up to 4.01 — enjoy!


The steps at Grannie’s are steep – the aching in her knees and on the soles of her feet sharpening with every step (who knew chasing evil snowmen could be so exhausting) – and Emma is just contemplating falling asleep right there on the staircase when she reaches the top, his door the first thing on her left.

She hardly even hesitates before knocking – fatigue worn well into her muscles and there was a reason she suggested Netflix in the first place, what with the day she’s had, and so she’s damned if she isn’t to take him up on it.  

Killian answers the door in a state that suggests he might have been sleeping – hair mussed, coat and vest abandoned for the thin black shirt underneath (he looks rumpled and adorable and her heart stutters in her chest) – soft smile curling his lips at her presence.

She thinks about be patient and something like all the time in the world and rolls her bottom lip between her teeth – holding up her laptop and the bag of takeout she went to fetch. “I believe you promised me Netflix?”

Keep reading