i hope i haven't put my foot in my mouth for future me

onceuponaprincessworld  asked:

hi there, how about a "One character adjusting the other's jewelry/neck tie/ etc." with captain swan?

“And then?” Emma urges him from behind the wooden folding panel, excitement evident in her voice.

Killian chuckles. “Then, I knocked two out when they came below deck, hands tied behind my back. Fought my way up after cutting the rope and nicking a sword. I had the captain on his knees in no time, sword to his throat and control of his ship in my hands. That’ll teach him to capture the crew of the Jolly.”

He admits, he has quite a bit of fun regaling his tales, especially to her. Even if her immediate response is almost always–

“How much of that is true?”

“I assure you, love,” he replies, putting hand to his heart even though she can’t see, “I would never lie to you.”

Emma hums in what he knows to be mock disbelief, but he can hear her amusement. It’s a game she plays, teasing him. He enjoys it quite a bit.

Killian fiddles with a trinket of a wooden swan on her dresser, turning it over and over in his hand before setting it back down. He looks up to see himself in the small mirror that hangs on her wall, and notes, not for the first time, how out of place his rougish character seems in the pristine room. He isn’t allowed to be in here, in the Princess’ bedchambers; it isn’t proper. But propriety left the equation the first time Emma kissed him in an alleyway behind a tavern, so there’s that.

He never would have thought, in any life, that the paths of a Pirate Captain and a Princess would ever cross, let alone become so intimately entangled.

“You sure you don’t want to join me at the ball?” his princess asks.

“Though I do appreciate the offer, I prefer my head attached to my neck.”

“Let it be known that the terror of the seven seas, the notorious Captain Hook, fears the Prince Consort,” Emma snorts. It is so unladylike, so far–he’s sure–from the mannerisms that would have been taught to her growing up. There is something to be said about this, the bits she hides from the rest of the kingdom but that are given so freely to him. He smiles.

“It’s your mother that terrifies me, darling.”

Emma laughs, and it warms him from the inside. He’s a fool to have fallen in love with a Princess, one who is fierce and intelligent, one who renders him useless with a touch, one whom he has no future with, would never truly be deserving of.

“So?” Emma says, piercing his thoughts. He hears a rustle of fabric and turns around, finding her in a gown of gold-ish beige, beads catching in the candlelight so it looks like she’s glowing.

He tries to speak but no words come out. She looks enchanting, he wants to tell her, riveting, like a glimmer of light in a long, dark, existence. (His, specifically, but perhaps he shouldn’t get too carried away.)

Emma watches him curiously, tucking a wayward curl behind her ear.

“You’ve rendered me speechless,” he gets out, a soft laugh swallowing up the last syllable. She rolls her eyes but grins anyway.

She hasn’t put on her high heeled shoes yet so she’s still a foot shorter than him when he steps closer. He reaches out his hand to the back of her neck, tracing the delicate golden chain she’s wearing. He gently tugs it out of the place where it’s caught itself in the handiwork of the strap of her dress.

The pendant is a gemstone, rare and unheard of in this land. It is the exact shade of green that matches her eyes. He’d gotten it for her on the occasion of her birthday a few months prior. He can’t help the way the side of his mouth quirks up.

Killian rights the direction of the necklace and stops his hand just shy of the pendant, thumb stroking her collarbone slowly. The air of lightness has subsided and when he looks up, he finds Emma fixated on him, gaze intense and breaths shallow.

“Truly, you look stunning.”

When she kisses him, it’s deliberately slow and deep as though she’s attempting to slow down time. He knows, he’s guilty of it too. His hooked hand encircles her waist and he presses her closer, wishing this could be a permanent embrace, and not one shared in secret behind locked doors and in shadowed alleys under disguises.

“This thing would be much more fun with you, Killian,” she murmurs, nudging his nose with hers once she breaks the kiss. They both know he can’t attend a royal gathering, not with the crimes of thievery and disservice to the crown on his head.

“Aye, I’m loath to miss an evening with you,” he rasps out. “But I’ll meet you after, and we’ll make sure you have some fun, hm?”

He feels her smirk pressed up against his lips when he kisses her.

intimacy prompts

moonstone1520  asked:

Can you do #4, 8, 9, & 10 (if they haven't already been done?). I love your writing so much. And I'm working on another chapter to Illicit, FYI. ;)

Remember how I said in a comment re: using three prompts in one ficlet, “I don’t think I could do it again if I tried. (Someone will probably send me like five now and I’ll have one of those ‘hold my beer’ moments…)?”  It ain’t five, but…

Hold my beer.

Who gave you that black eye?”/ “Forget it. You fucking suck.”/ “Quit it or I’ll bite.”/ “If you use up all the hot water again, I swear to god! You’re on the couch for a month!!”

*

“Who gave you that black eye?” Mary asked in lieu of a normal greeting.

“I walked into a door,” Sherlock said shortly, giving her one of his plastic sarcastic-arsehole smiles.  He brushed past her into the flat to leave one somewhat guilty-looking Molly.

“Really was an accident,” Molly said sheepishly as she gave Mary a quick hug.

“This is a story I know I want to hear.”

“Newp,” Sherlock called over his shoulder, already hefting the baby out of her seat.

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Girl Meets I Do; (May contain spoilers if you haven't seen)

A/N: OKAY! So I got a lot of requests about GMID and I’d love to individually do them but I don’t want to be repetitive so I combined them all in some ways ! I hope this is okay! Also to all the anons that complimented my previous work it genuinely means a lot to me!! Thank you so so much :) 

I altered the episode a little as you’ll have noticed just to make it work! If the rest of the clique six were going to be at the wedding I wanted the Matthews family AKA Shawn’s family to be there too!! 

♡ ♡ ♡ 

In the early hours of the morning a doubtful Maya drags Riley out of bed and into the bay window. Her mother was set to marry Shawn the following evening, this is everything she’d be hoping for but she was worried it would fall apart at any moment. Maya believes good things don’t happen to her so why should she expect this would be any different. 

After all attempts at waking the deep sleeper Maya went for the romantic approach. 

“Riley, it’s me Lucas, I want to be a veterinarian and I want to kiss your face” Maya puts on her Texan voice. 

Riley kisses the air with a smile and Maya can’t help but grin herself, “ew.”

Rattling on the fire escape gives Maya a fright and her sudden jolt knocks Riley over and she hit the ground, finally waking up.

“What happened?” Riley groggily gets up.

“Your boyfriend and his boyfriends decided to pay you a visit!” Maya pokes her thumb at the window and their three guy friends are standing by waving.

Riley opens the window and whispers, “What are you guys doing here?”

“Smackle is here too!” She raises her hand up making herself known, she was lost behind the boys. 

“Shh!” They all turned to hush her.

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anonymous asked:

Can you do 20 for a DW pairing? You pick you! :)

20. things you said that i wasn’t meant to hear

Twelve/Rose (since no one ever prompts that ;) )

(i’ve also done this prompt for tentoo/rose and for nine/rose if that’s more your speed)

Barovox was a planet renowned for its multiple markets full of mechanical parts - the galaxy’s best one-stop shop for anyone needing to do repairs on ships new and old. It was, incidentally, the Doctor’s favorite place to shop for TARDIS parts. He’d visited many times over the years, enough times that his companions usually opted out of stepping foot in the markets in favor of staying on the TARDIS or at home relaxing.

Clara had told him, in no uncertain terms, that she was not going to a glorified junkyard with him again so she was back in England while he rummaged through bits of metal, trying to find something with which to repair the time phase oscillator.

He had about given up on the stall he was at when a certain voice cut through the buzz of the marketplace. His head whipped up and he stepped away from the stall owner who was yelling at him that he either needed to pay for the part he was holding or put it back.

“Have your piece of junk back, I’m busy,” he said thrusting the broken coil back at the alien.

The Doctor’s eyes scanned the crowd as he tried to pick out where the voice had come from. He was terrible with faces and names this go round but he knew that voice and he knew he hadn’t heard it for a very long time.

He trotted through the crowd, eyes wide and head swiveling back and forth until he finally caught sight of blue and blonde in the mass of people and his hearts stuttered before galloping faster.

Even before she opened her mouth again to speak, he knew who she was. His hearts knew who she was and the name filtered from there to his brain to his mouth.

“Rose,” he breathed. It’d been so very long, millenia, since he’d seen her and the name still felt right on his tongue.

Rose stopped dead in her tracks and whipped her head around, zeroing in on the Doctor. He figured it wasn’t hard for her to figure out who had said her name when he was staring right at her, frozen in place.

She slipped through the crowd to get to him and looked up at him puzzled. “Do I know you?”

He blinked at her and then tried to give her his best scowl. He had a good face for scowling. The eyebrows were immensely helpful in that regard. “No.”

“You said my name though,” she pointed out.

“I did no such thing,” he denied.

“You did so. Plus you were staring right at me. So, out with it, what do you want and how do you know who I am?” Rose demanded, crossing her arms over her chest and staring up at him.

The Doctor suppressed a smile. Of course she wasn’t in the least bit put off my his scowl, if he remembered correctly she always gave as good as she got.

“You just reminded me of an old friend,” he said, finally.

Rose’s eyes softened and she searched his face, something about the words having sharpened her attention. “You remind me of someone, too,” she admitted. “Your eyes…”

She peered at him and then broke eye contact, shaking her head. “Thought there was a good chance of finding him here. Used to stop here all the time to get parts for his ship.”

“Good taste,” the Doctor said carefully, not wanting to give away who he was but wanting to prolong the conversation a bit longer. This was another stolen moment and he was going to treasure it.

(He thought that he had had to steal too many moments with her, that he hadn’t been given enough time with her originally. He’d stolen one attempted goodbye by burning up a sun, another when he was dying and he needed to see her again, even if she didn’t know him.)

(Maybe this time he could actually say goodbye.)

(He didn’t really want to, didn’t want to admit that this was their last stolen moment.)

“Never could understand a word of what he was saying when he started talking machines. Just my luck to keep datin’ mechanics,” she quipped with a small smile.

“This friend you’re looking for your boyfriend, then?” he asked.

Rose shrugged. “Not exactly. I love him but…” she trailed off and the Doctor wished he was better at reading expressions so he could figure out what was going on in her head.

“I’m sure you’ll find him and work things out,” he said, trying to sound as kind as possible, to try and rekindle the hope in her.

(She’d done it for him so many times, it was time he repaid the favor.)

She beamed up at him. “Thanks.” Rose scrunched her nose up. “I didn’t quite catch your name.”

“I’m no one,” he said. “Have a good life, Rose. Be happy.”

He caught a glimpse of her mouth hanging open in a shocked expression, recognition sparking in her eyes as he turned away and ducked down one of the alleyways that riddled the labyrinthine marketplace.

He peered around the corner and watched as she walked slowly down the street before disappearing in a blue flash.

“Be happy,” he repeated softly. That’s all he’d ever wanted for her and he hoped she’d found that with his other self. 

(A wish for her future was better than a goodbye anyways.)

With a downward twitch of his lips he turned and headed for his TARDIS.

Shopping could wait for another day. He was going to try to take his own advice and pick up Clara for an adventure and be happy.