A/N: I saw the post about Colin’s tattoo and had to write a thing. The above picture is in reference to the tattoo that I have decided Killian has on his hipbone.
She loves his tattoos. She loves to run her fingers across his Milah tattoo, caressing the dagger that once bore her name, fingernails sketching out the pattern of the bursting heart. His love for Milah always amazes her, his willingness to fight three-hundred years to avenge her. (It’s his ability to love that’s shown through this that she admires and yet struggles to grasp - especially when he vows he loves her more - that his heart wasn’t capable of loving as much as it is now that he has her.)
She loves to run her teeth down the elaborate design of the anchor and ship wheel tattoo along his hipbone, tasting his skin as she goes. Her tongue tracing the curves of the tentacles as he says her name followed by a string of curse words. Emma presses a smile into his flesh, making sure he feels it. When she initially saw it, he labeled it his pirate tattoo, telling her that when he first inked it into his skin, it was to solidify his promise to never work under the throne again.
He has two feathers on his left shoulder blade, white accented with gray ink. In a moment of vulnerability, shirt strewn haphazardly across the floorboards, he tells her the answers to what’s behind her eyes, what’s racing through her mind. She learns it was for Liam, the feathers symbolizing the Pegasus wings that allowed them to fly to Neverland. At the time, it was the exact comfort she needed, a glimpse into his box of lost childhood, into his beginnings.
But her favorite is the small black swan that graces the spot over his heart. The one he claims he got over the not-so-missing year, right before trading The Jolly Roger. The tears that fell because of the way he looked at her like she’s everything - because It’s you, Emma. You’ve always had my heart and the three words that are caught in the back of her throat. It puts to rest any doubts that still linger. It’s her tattoo.
She loves the obscurity of them all, hidden under layers of leather and button ups as if they’re only hers to see, to discover. Others only catch fragments and glimpses, her father (thankfully) still unaware of their presence. The absence of his annoyed eye rolls when she reaches for them under their concealment during the mundane days at the station. Not that she would care if he knew anyway. But it still feels nice, like their little secret amongst the people they are closest to. She loves his tattoos.