stubborn emma

lenfaz  asked:

Do you ever wonder if there is a part of Original Killian that is sitting there thinking he has a child (or actually a version of him has a child) and he kind of thinks of her as his(ish). Like it does bring all these thoughts and if it weren't for Emma and the one in the way he'd be there helping his alternate version find their child?

Well, Lena, I believe I told you this would get fic-y…and it did. ~700 words of CS/Daddy!Killian fluff.

“What are you thinking about?”

Killian nearly jumped at Emma’s voice, he’d been so lost in thought. That in itself was odd, considering that usually when they were in this position—sprawled on the couch, Emma’s back to his front and his hand against the steadily growing bump that was kicking his palm harder and harder each day—he could hardly think of anything but his amazing wife and the incredible new life they had made.

They’d found out at that day’s doctor’s appointment that they were having a girl, and they were thrilled. They’d be just as excited with a boy, of course, but the thought of a tiny lass who was the spitting image of her beautiful mother made Killian’s heart leap in ways he didn’t know were possible. But it had also made him think of something else—or rather, someone else out there with a daughter of his own.

“I was just wondering…if he found her yet.”

“If the other you found his daughter?”


Ever since returning from their trip to help Henry, Killian’s mind had regularly wandered to his alternate self. He wondered how they were doing, and if that Hook had made any progress in locating his own daughter; he sincerely hoped he had.

Killian continued. “I know she’s not technically mine, not like this one,” he explained, caressing Emma’s stomach, “but I can’t help worrying for her, too, even though I know nothing about her.”

To be honest, when his other self had first mentioned her, he felt a slight stab of jealousy that in another timeline, he’d been able to be a father sooner. He had so many questions for the man: Did he feel her move within the womb, like he himself was doing now, or did he not hold her until she was born? Was he there to witness that miracle, or did he not find out about her existence until later? For that matter, was she even his biologically? Or had his alternate self finally atoned for the sins he committed against Baelfire and adopted another lost child?

Were it not for the impending arrival of his own child, it would have been easy to convince Killian to assist his alternate self in finding her; though, he supposed, it was his child that saved him from his other self’s misguided plans in the first place. He knew he was where he was supposed to be, but still—he wished there was something he could do.

“Well, if there’s one thing I know about Killian Jones, it’s that no matter when or where, he’s stubborn and persistent,” Emma mused as she laid her head back against his shoulder and looked up at him.

Killian snorted. “Yeah, that’s true.”

“And though he didn’t technically marry in, he’s still basically part of this family. And what does this family do?”

He smiled. “They always find each other.”

“Exactly. Plus, he’s with Henry. The two of you have found me so many times; there’s no way they’ll fail.”

He couldn’t help but place a kiss against her temple. She might not be the orator her mother was, but Emma always knew what to say to make him feel better. “I love you,” he couldn’t help but murmur.

“I love you, too,” she replied, snuggling against him. “Now does this have anything to do with the chess set I found in the nursery closet?”

Ah, he’d been caught; he blushed at being discovered. “Perhaps a bit. It is a good way to teach strategy, after all.”

“You know she won’t be able to play for, like, five years, right?”

“There’s nothing wrong with being prepared.”

She just giggled at him and shook her head. Oh, was he looking forward to what was to come. Their lives up to this point had been an incredible adventure and he couldn’t wait for it to continue—for the day his babe was in his arms. And he’d eagerly await the news that his other self was in the same position with his daughter.


Captain Swan AU Challenge between @tehgreeneyes and @museelo
12th pick: Modern AU + Royal(s) @museelo » Love Is Worth It

Killian knew that falling in love with his employer was a bad idea. Especially since his employer was her Royal Highness Princess Emma of Misthaven. He decided to keep his distance, despite the fact that the Princess felt the same. He didn’t think he was worthy of her. 

Tired of his stubbornness, Emma took matters into her own hands. She made him realize that he is the one she wants and that he shouldn’t throw away what they have. 

This Unspoken Thing (4/4)

Emma and Killian were kinda enemies. Now they are kinda friends, but there is this unspoken thing between them. A pull and a want that they haven’t yet given a name to. And stubborn Emma Swan just wont admit it…

Also on AO3/FF.NET

Bed rest was boring. She had decided this after the fifth hour of her confinement. Emma had already read every cheesy magazine in the apartment and was already over watching re-runs of Judge Judy. She had taken up residence on the couch, only making the effort to move when nature called.

It was excruciating.

She’d always thought that she preferred her own company, but now she was having to re evaluate that. Bail bonds meant a lot of time alone. Still, even when she was on a job she always had Leroy calling her from the office. Or Killian. They would text, usually, jibing each other and passing back little jokes and taunting barbs.

Sitting by herself for hours while her brother either slept or worked was slowly beginning to drive her crazy. And there was far, far too much time to think.

Thankfully, the swelling around her ankle had mostly subsided within a few days and she began to try and move around a little more, though still with the cautious movements of a newborn foal. She clung to the crutches as she stumbled from piece of furniture to piece of furniture . The nurse’s stern warning about aggravating the injury had stuck in her head.

As did the way she had batted her eyelids at Killian.

It annoyed her, the way women fawned at him. It was evident just about every time they were in a public place together: the looks, the whispers. It was so superficial. He was just a guy, she reminded herself - on the numerous occasions over those two weeks when her mind wandered to thinking about him. (While at the same time batting away the urge to text him. A little bit of sparring would probably cheer her up. And give him completely the wrong idea.)

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A Canon Divergent set sometime in the future after Emma and Killian are married.   A series of one-shots centering around a CS pregnancy.  Pregnant -Emma’s POV - here, Pregnant - Killian’s POV - here, First Doctor’s Visit - Emma’s POV - here, First Doctor’s Visit- Killian’s POV - here, Heartbeat - Emma’s POV - here, Heartbeat - Killian’s POV - here ; First Movement - here; Ultrasound - here

Pregnant - Killian’s POV     

Can be found on FF. Net

word  count ~4600           Rating - K+

Killian looked out the window, watching his Swan climb into that yellow contraption she liked and drive off down the road.  Sighing at her stubbornness, he turned to the kitchen where Henry was finishing his usual morning Pop-Tarts, “You need anything else, lad?" 

"She okay?” he asked instead.

“Aye lad, she’s fine.  Just being Emma." 

"Stubborn, you mean?" 

Killian laughed, "That she is, but I was thinking more along the lines of ‘savior’ Emma. The Emma who doesn’t like to burden others with what she perceives as a problem.”

Henry sat there a minute contemplating what had been said and finally as if accepting there was nothing he could do, cleaned up his plate and ran upstairs to get his things for school.   

Killian wiped down the table, grabbed his jacket and walked the lad to the bus stop. “See you after school,” he called as Henry climbed on. 

As the bus drove around the bend, Killian felt a vibration in his pocket and pulling out his phone, was surprised to see Emma’s mother’s picture flashing on the screen. “Milady, is there trouble?”

“No, Killian, nothing like that.  I just wanted to tell you what happened with Emma as she just left Granny’s." 

"How was her appetite today?  Lately, it’s been hit or miss, with days where she eats well and then turns a pale shade of green and dashes off to the lavatory.”  

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A short SwanQueen/SwanMillsFamily oneshot. Their four year old daughters stumbles across Henry’s storybook where she sees a picture of the Evil Queen causing her to push Regina away and leaving Emma to pick up the pieces. Fluff. I don’t own Once or any of its characters. Apologies for any mistakes. Hope you enjoy :)

Emma frowns as she walks through her front door to hear screaming. Admittedly, it’s not an odd noise in their house. Between the four year old, the teenager and their newly acquired dog (just one at the moment but knowing Regina the next time she visits the animal shelter, there’ll be more), the mansion is normally filled with noise.

It’s that noise that Emma loves. Silence reminds her of loneliness and rootlessness. Noise, even if it is shouting and sometimes too loud, is the marker of family. When she walks in to hear a chorus of hello’s or to a house filled with laughter, it’s a reminder that she is loved and a part of something truly remarkable to her – a family.

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CSBB: I Thee Wed (5/16)

Once upon a time, Princess Emma and Lieutenant Killian Jones stole away into the dark of the night to elope. In the morning light, however, they must face the repercussions of their actions before they can live their “happily ever after.” This is where their story begins…

Rating: M (Mild smut)

Content Warning: Eventual Mild Smut

Other Pairings: Snowing

Author’s Note: Apparently, it is CS AU week and today is Lieutenant Duckling Day, so I consider it fate this is my posting schedule. As such, this chapter is dedicated to @the-reason-to-sail-home . Thank you to all who have read my contribution to the @captainswanbigbang This story wouldn’t be half as readable without the lovely beta work of @wexyuk. Special shoutout to my artists who also served as secondary readers, @piratesrumforswan and @just-be-magnificent . You’d be remiss not to check out their art!

[Ch. 1][Ch. 2][Ch. 3][Ch. 4]

Read on AO3!

Chapter 5

Killian was still reeling from his conversation with the king even after Emma pulled him out of the room and into one of the long hallways of the castle. The past few hours had been overwhelming to say the least. Barely twelve hours had passed since he and Emma whisked away into the night, and since then he had been married, enjoyed a thoroughly pleasing wedding night, been rushed from his marriage bed by his wife’s brother, thrown in the dungeons, and then had his bride’s father – the king – attempt to buy him off. Killian was honestly shocked he was still standing, and credited much of that feat to the adrenaline still coursing through his veins. 

Killian was relived to be freed from her father’s interrogation. He was growing increasingly incensed by the king’s accusations. Had he been in there too much longer and continued to have his honor and devotion to Emma questioned, Killian might very have done or said something he might regret. It was imperative that he remain calm in the presence of the king, especially now that he knew how the man perceived him. 

Distracted and overwhelmed as he was, Killian completely missed the fact that Emma was talking him until she took him by the shoulder and shook him. “Are you okay? I’ve been asking what happened with my father.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but promptly closed it. He wasn’t sure how to proceed with Emma. He didn’t want to drive a wedge further between her and her family. He could lie, distort the truth of the matter, but that was hardly a way for one to start a marriage. Besides, Emma was quite adept at seeing through lies and mistruths. She would surely call his bluff. 

Killian already felt himself sagging under the weight of the daunting task before him. Winning over her parents would be difficult, and, at the moment, it seemed impossible. He knew he and Emma would have to present a united front, King David’s opinion of him seemed set in stone. If he was half as stubborn as Emma, well, Killian may never win his approval.

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Fic: How Lucky We Are (14/14) (M)

Author’s note: We have finally reached the end of the journey. It’s always sad to see a fic end, but I’ve got several more waiting in the wings to be written! I hope you’ve enjoyed this Captain Duckling journey as much as I have. And if you’ve been waiting to read, I hope you enjoy it now that it’s finished.

Also posted: / AO3


Three Months Later

Emma frowned when she realized she was alone. She rolled over in the narrow bunk, wondered where her husband had gone. The Jolly Roger and her crew were recovering from a storm that came up suddenly. Rain and winds and high seas battered the ancient ship; Killian’s expert seamanship got them into a nearby alcove to ride out the worst of it. They’d only recently left their last port of call, Wolfwater, preparing for another long stretch at sea. It had been frightening, sails snapping in the winds as sailors struggled to tie them down, the sea frothing around them. She felt helpless, especially after Killian insisted she go below while he remained at the helm.

Not even magic could harness the elements.

Her relief when he appeared in their cabin, soaked to the skin and shivering, was palpable.

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Recent Fics

Hey - here are my recent fics from the past month all in one place in case you fancy :D

Not Quite a Coffee Shop AU

She needs a second job and The Library needs a barista. Who knew she would end up with more than free coffee?

This Unspoken Thing

Emma and Killian were kinda enemies. Now they are kinda friends, but there is this unspoken thing between them. A pull and a want that they haven’t yet given a name to. And stubborn Emma Swan just wont admit it…

Wanting 1 & 2

Smut - fuck budies who fall in love

Knowing and Understanding

Smut - close friends that were always in love but never got the chance to be together (timing etc). They both know how the other feels, and with only one night left they decide to give in to what could have been (prompt from @thesschesthair )

Untitled one shot

David and Killian are best friends and Killian’s “lady of the night” is Emma. But he doesn’t know emma is davids little sister

gusenitsaa  asked:

*twists arm* do it do it!!!

Bedtime in the Swan-Jones house was rarely a quiet affair. The daughter of the Savior and Captain Hook had an abundance of both charm and stubbornness that often made Emma want to use a sleeping spell. Tonight she had been in fine form and Emma had given up and left Killian to deal with it. It was a half-hour later when she checked on them and though her daughter was snuggled into her father’s arms she was still very much awake.

“Daddy tell me the selkie story,” she said without a hint of a yawn.

Killian chuckled. “Again? Haven’t you heard it enough?” 

But Emma knew that she could never get enough of that story and Killian knew it too because he gave a sigh and began to speak. Emma leaned against the doorframe and let the soft, deep voice of her husband wash over her. 

Once upon a time in a rich kingdom there was a humble shack on the shores of the sea and in that shack there lived two boys and the mother they loved dearly. Their father was a sailor and though his wages paid for their home he was so rarely there that the boys thought of him as almost a visitor. A man who appeared bearing gifts and stories only to disappear a few days later before the sun had risen. 

Despite their father’s absence the boys were happy, they loved their mother, their home, and the sea. They lived a golden childhood and their happiness was only marred by those days when their mother would become melancholy. Her eyes would stay fixed on the sea and she would sigh as tears dropped from her eyes. On those days the oldest son, would tame his curly hair and put on his best clothing and go into town to buy food and sweetmeats, while the younger son would go out in search of some treasure that would make her smile…..

See I am doing the thing! That’s a rough start at least. Hopefully I will get time tomorrow to finish and polish it up. 

My Little Princess (Ch.11)


Chapter 11

Tuesday, January 21, 2014

Killian raised one eyebrow in disbelief as the words slowly came out of his mouth. “Are you telling me that the child that is in the other room with your mother is my daughter?” And then, he twirled his finger between them. “Our daughter?.”

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Fic Rec List 6 of 6

It’s almost finished! Aren’t you glad? I know I am! This has been way too hard, but so much fun putting together and remembering all these wonderful fics! Once I’m done with this and finish reading Fragile Design, I’ll look forward to  immersing myself in the sheer joy and beauty of these fics and authors… Same as before, these all rate 11+, a single asterisk is a desert island fic, two additional asterisks means it’s a #1 all time favorite fic.

List 1  List 2  List 3  List 4  List 5

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The Gifted actress Emma Dumont discussed her character’s development and the Magneto connections.

She does not want to bring a mutant child into a world where she has to be worried that that child will be killed. So she’s going full Magneto, she wants to fight for the mutants. She wants to stick it to the man and no one’s going to stop her. […] She’s Magneto’s daughter, we all know it. She’s heard rumors about who her true father is. I think she knows that her biological dad is not actually her biological dad. But of course she’s heard rumors from different people. He was a villain, he was a bad guy, he has the wrong beliefs, he hurt people. So she’s kind of struggling with this, thinking ‘I’m that way. I think those things… What does that mean for me? Am I bad or am I good? No, I’m good. I want the right things.’ So she has the same aggression and stubbornness.

This Unspoken Thing 1/3

A baby mini fic.

Emma and Killian were kinda enemies. Now they are kinda friends, but there is this unspoken thing between them. A pull and a want that they haven’t yet given a name to. And stubborn Emma Swan just wont admit it…

(Inspired by GoTG 2!)


Emma Swan was in no way avoiding Killian Jones.

Someone had to go rustle up some food for the impromptu birthday party that had somehow came about. And that someone may as well have been her.

The fact that she could hide in the kitchen for as long as she could get away with was just a bonus.


“Need any help?”

Emma jumped just about a foot in the air at the sound of a softly accented voice, her head narrowly missing the upper edge of the refrigerator. “Dammnit Killian, some warning please.”

She looked back over her shoulder to see her friend’s teasing smile.


Oh that was a weird word to say when concerning Jones.

Friends. Amigos. Buddies. Pals. All very strange words for someone who only a few months earlier was, what some may have called, her enemy.

“Sorry,” he shrugged softly, letting the door close behind him.

He looked tired; the shadows under his eyes speaking of the lateness of the hour that had seen them leave the bar last night and the number of rums they had both consumed while trying to outdo each other.

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Out of the Frying Pan (9/?)

“I told you why Henry stayed with you last night,” Emma said pointedly, narrowing her eyes. David didn’t budge, one side of his mouth tilted up in a smile.

“And I believe that as much as you believe me,” he answered, rolling his eyes for good measure. “Is this about a guy?”

Emma’s eyes actually hurt with how wide they got and her stomach was probably on the kitchen floor at this point – she couldn’t quite bring herself to look. “It’s totally about a guy isn’t it?” David continued, face a mix of curiosity and big brother and that did something else entirely to the state of Emma’s stomach.

“It’s not about a guy,” Emma said quickly. Her voice kept steady during the sentence though and she got a feeling it was because Killian Jones wasn’t a guy – he was, well, she wasn’t entirely sure what he was, but she was just as curious as ever to figure it out.

AN: First off, I’m sorry for missing Friday - the real world is the absolute worst. I’m still kind of ugggggh post-Sunday, but this fic is monstrous and my CSBB is monstrous and I’ve got a lot of feelings left to feel about CS, so I’m still here. As always, @laurnorder is a gift for always reading all of my writing. 

Living it up on Ao3 and tag’ed up on Tumblr

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CSJJ Day 14: Star Struck

Here’s my contribution for @csjanuaryjoy, day 14!

The prompt I used was: “I ran you over and all my attempts to make amends are making it worse” but as you’ll see I put a celebrity twist on it too :P

rated T, about 10.5K words (as usual, I got hella carried away). 

Read on AO3

To say that Emma’s been having quite the start to her weekend would be the understatement of the century.

It had all started late Thursday night; after a long, frustrating day of work (in which she’d learned that three of her latest ‘clients’ had skipped out on their bail) she’d just been ready to go to sleep, to at least try to get some peace and quiet after the horrid day, when her cellphone rang.

To add to her annoyance, it was Neal.

He, as usual, had ignored her complaints that it was late and why couldn’t you have called tomorrow, Henry is already asleep and just announced that he and Tamara, his girlfriend, were coming up to Boston tomorrow.

Emma hadn’t been expecting that; they were just here a few weeks ago for Christmas, spending Christmas Eve with Henry, so she hadn’t been quite sure why they decided to make the long drive back to Boston so soon. The memory of Christmas had made her grit her teeth together, increasing her aggravation at Neal’s call. He and Henry had only re-connected a few years ago (running into Neal with Henry during a school trip to Manhattan was one of the worst days of Emma’s life) and it had just worked out to be their first Christmas together. And like with the other holidays they’ve spent together since their reunion, Neal had given no thought to whatever Emma and Henry’s usual traditions of Christmas were, and his mention of this impromptu trip to Boston had put Emma on guard. Sure, there are no holidays in sight, but it’s not unlike Neal to change the game without telling her.

She had demanded to know what was going on but Neal was vague and unhelpful, and just told her that he’d tell her and Henry together when they were all at dinner tomorrow.

He’d hung up with a don’t be late, Emma! before she could even protest the assumption that she and Henry would be free for dinner with only a day’s notice. Never mind that Henry’s favourite television programme is on Friday nights and hell if she doesn’t have the hardest time trying to drag him away from it, but Fridays are Emma’s busiest day at work – the last day of the bail court for the week – and that usually means she’s home hopelessly late on the best of days.

And this Friday evening, as she half-slips and half-slides down the icy sidewalk to her apartment, is not a best day.

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This Unspoken Thing: Killian (5/5)

Also on AO3 and FF.NET

-A little insight into Killian

Hands on her waist, his lips at her ear, singing the words that were so much more than lyrics:

‘Give me your heart, make it real or just forget about it.’

She was so free and relaxed. Emma Swan, tough, stubborn, glorious and with walls sky high, was grinding against him in full view of the entire bar. The night flashed before him: their friends, the birthday dinner, the rum - oh the rum… The’d worked their way through half a bottle together before she’d slunk off to see her brother. He’d watched her leave, his eyes lingering on the sway of her hips, his mind confused and conflicted.

Killian Jones had been called many things over the years. Stubborn. Sexy. Rapscallion.

But never a fool. Yet that was perhaps the most suitable name for him when it came to Emma Swan.

It had been so long since he’d started to want her (fall for her…) that the time before she had swept into his life seemed a foggy, blurred memory.

Yes, they had sparred at first: being professional rivals would do that to you. But it was an addictive friction. He liked pushing her buttons and watching those green eyes flash and hearing the creative insults she used to describe him. And even when they had found themselves working on the same team, the back and forth hadn’t abated. Maybe the edges had smoothed over a bit, but the fire and spark was still there.

When he had discovered her brother worked for the police department, it hadn’t been difficult to strike up a tentative friendship considering how often he was there dropping off skips. His motives had not been pure, he would admit it. She’d stubbornly refused to let him further into her life, not matter how many lunches they shared or cups of cocoa he brought her from her favorite diner. Using her family to get closer to her wasn’t his finest moment, but as it turned out David was a great bloke and the two had a lot in common. From there, it was a smooth transition from outsider to core member in the circle of friends that the brother and sister had around them.

And it was worth it. Becoming an ingrained part of her life, and her of his, he was pretty sure she felt something for him. There were looks, unspoken words written in lingering glances, and a delicious tension whenever they shared a room.

But tonight was a first. Was he mistaking the way she was pressing herself against him? The way she curved her body and teased his most sensitive parts with her movements and the tips of her fingers?

So he drank her in, enjoying the feel of her, the abandon with which she moved, her arms slung back around his neck, her fingers, tracing circles on the skin of his neck, his body afire with the proximity of the woman who had tormented and bedazzled him in equal measure.

Emma had him twisted around her in a way she could never understand and most likely had not considered. He’d covered his feelings for her with wit and flirtation, always aware that Emma was a skittish woman. An outright declaration of wanting to pursue her would have sent her scuttling for the shadows. The dance, therefore, was a situation he could never have expected. He could pretend that there was more between them than possibilities and chemistry, even if he had no idea how to make that real.

As the song died away, he knew he couldn’t hide much longer from the unspoken thing between them before it came bubbling to the surface. Things were heading to a tipping point.

Emma had slipped away from the dance floor, leaving him there, blood racing, hard as a rock, surrounded by oblivious dancers who quickly closed in the space she had left. Then he watched her sidle up to the bar and take a stool next to a man: Detective Graham Humbert of the Boston PD. Co-worker of her brother and all around nice guy.

He needed to do something.


Of course, she had denied it.

There was no thing, she’d said. It smarted for a moment, until he reminded himself who he was dealing with.

And, hell, if the idea of her getting with Humbert didn’t tear right into him. Yes, he was a decent fellow: good and upstanding and all that. But Emma, she was a flickering flame that needed to be fanned, not quashed by the cool calmness of the police officer. He wanted to be the one to ignite that passion. Oh, she had hinted at how glorious that would be when she plastered her body against his. (He groaned every time he thought about it.)

When he’d gotten close to her in that empty kitchen it was clear she was affected. Her slow breathing, the widening of her eyes. Yes, she felt something, he was even more certain. Getting her to admit it - well, that was another thing.

But he did love a challenge.


One thing Killian had learned, pretty early on in their acquaintance, was just how stubborn Emma was. She didn’t like to be helped, was fiercely independent and therefore was also highly reticent to admit when she was wrong.

Deciding to tread carefully, he’d tried thoughtful lunches and coffees. He’d tried a smouldering look or two across the office. He’d even thought about talking to David about his obstinate sister. Then he’d thought of a different tact.

If she was so sure he was not what she wanted, how would she react to someone else wanting him?

There was a date. Her name was Clare. They’d met when he was researching a job and she’d given him her card ‘just in case’. She was undeniably gorgeous: he hadn’t exaggerated in his description of her. She ran her own consulting firm, had been screwed over by a contractor who had fleeced their bank account.

As dates go, it was fine. Nice. Pleasant.

Dinner at an Italian: one of those modern types with lots of white decor. Not those dimly lit, romantic ones with candles and suchlike.

(It wasn’t that kind of date.)

He’d been attentive, listening and making the correct responses to her stories, sharing a few tales of his own, having quite the repertoire in that arena working in bail bonds. When they’d parted, he’d given her a kiss to her hand and a non committal reply to her suggestion of another date (another perk of his job, the unpredictable schedule gave many an excuse to get out of social activities).

Back in the office, fine, nice and pleasant were replaced with fantastic, exceptional and scorching. Well, when Emma was there. He saved talking about his date until she was there, raising his voice just high enough to catch her ear, seeing her crane her neck in the most subtle way as he boasted.

It was petty and childish, but he was a little lost when it came to her. She wasn’t interested in his usual charms and lines, so this was the route he had chosen. Yet Emma remained stubbornly silent. She’d made no comment on his story; hadn’t risen to the challenge he’d laid forth when he laid a lingering stare in her directio


It was past midnight when his phone rang.

“Leroy?” he groaned, his eyes blurry from sleep.

“Jones? I need a favor.”

Killian sighed. Leroy was a decent enough employer but he liked to take liberties. Like that time he’d tricked Killian into helping him move apartment (not on the clock) or when he’d talked him into picking up his grandmother from the airport which ended with having to spend the afternoon entertaining the octogenarian while Leroy worked - Killian knew he was actually hungover from celebrating the Red Sox winning the play offs.


“Swan’s got herself banged up, she’d down at the ER. Can you check on her?”

The words cut through him. He sprang up in bed, his head spinning a little at the rapid motion. “What? What’s happened? Is she hurt?”

“Well, she’s getting checked out so I assume something is up. Her brother is working and I need to know that my best - sorry, second best agent is getting taken care of.”

Killian was already pulling on a t-shirt. “I’ll be there,” he replied, a ball of worry churning inside him.


She was fine. Relatively.

The anxiety that had risen as he drove to the hospital had melted as soon she had given him a mouthful of snark. He’d missed that.

As she was treated she did a good job of trying to ignore his presence. He wished, quite often, that his charms worked on Emma. Usually, he didn’t even have to try. Take the nurse who’d been looking after Emma. He’d merely smiled and asked a few questions and she was all over him like a rash. Maybe that was what had made Emma appeal to him so much. Maybe he was just a glutton for punishment.

Crutches and medication in hand, it was the gentlemanly thing to offer to take her home. It was also the gentlemanly thing to help her up the stairs -and be silently thankful that her building didn’t have an elevator– when he pulled her protesting form over his shoulder and firmly gripped her thigh. The brief time it took to climb the staircase had him all worked up. Her warm body so close to him, the feel of her pressed against him. It was almost too much.

Once at her door, he’d followed her inside without invitation.

While she changed he’d organized her painkillers and prepared a small tray so she wouldn’t have to leave her bed until David got home. He found her laid on her bed in faded plaid pajamas, her eyes tired and hair ruffled but no less stunning than he ever thought her to be.

Beautiful, stubborn, fiery Swan.

Damn he’d wanted to kiss her. (He’d wanted to kiss her for months-)

When he’d placed the tray on her bedside table, he’d let himself soak her in for a moment. She smelled like shampoo - mint - and the cottony scent of fresh laundry. He’d played it off as going to fluff her pillow, biting his cheek to stop him saying something he would regret.

Of course, she questioned his motives.

He’d pleaded through the way he looked at her, begged her to understand.

“You, nice? Please. You’re only nice when you’re trying to get in someone’s pants.”

He’d have been lying if he said that didn’t smart. He wasn’t sure where that opinion of him had came from and for a second it was hard to hide the flare of hurt that flickered over his face.

But then he smiled, hiding what he felt behind his mask of bravado. It was too easy to fall into that pattern of banter with ther.

“Maybe I am.”

Her lips parted. He could see the way she was checking him out. His eyes danced over her form, the deep neckline of the pajamas, the top button that had worked it’s way undone.

God, he was wrecked for her.

Her cheeks flushed and she looked away.

“I’m not having sex with you because you gave me a ride home.”

Every muscle tightened for a second as he let her insinuation pass over him. He knew she didn’t mean it. He knew she was just deflecting. Two can play at that, he thought.

“Maybe I don’t want to have sex with you,” he said, eyes boring into hers, her expression changing from confused to shocked to something unreadable. His mouth felt dry and his heart was racing. She didn’t speak, so he let the next words fall from his lips before he could think better of it.

“Maybe I want to make love to you.”

(And he meant it. He was well past like, half in love with her already.)

It was one of those defining moments. He felt on tenterhooks as he waited. Her chest rose and fell quickly, her fingers tightened their grip on the comforter, her head tilted to one side-

Then she laughed. Soft, gentle.

“Good one,” she nodded, tapping a pointed finger at him. “You had me there for a minute, Jones.”

“Did I?” he sighed.

Not such a defining moment, then.

What had he truly expected? This was Emma, after all.

He’d left, a dilemma on his hands.


It was somewhere in between being punched by the skip, and Humbert informing him about his date with Emma, that Killian had made up his mind. He was becoming a fool over this woman.

Almost two weeks had passed since the night he had taken her home from the hospital and in that time they had exchanged a grand total of four, completely work related, text messages. He missed her.

And why was she going on a date with that fool? Why not him?

(He knew the reason why: it wasn’t like he had outright asked her. It wasn’t like he thought she would say yes-)

Tormented as she tended to his wound, it had’t taken long to decide. He’d laid out his cards on the table, making it clear that something with him was time limited and she needed to make a choice.

Walking out of that office had been incredibly hard, made more so by the fact that he was only being half honest.

(He’d have waited forever for her.)

He lay on his couch and tried to think of anything other than her expression when he had left.


She was there, in his arms, her lips beneath his, the words he had wanted to hear from her for so long seeming to come so easily in the dimly lit living room.

Kissing her was everything and more. They just fit. His hands melded to her waist, her arms around his neck. He drowned in her.

(And it was a glorious way to go-)

Wrapped up in one another, for the first time true honesty not being shielded by walls and bluster, he found it was surprisingly simple. Maybe words weren’t needed after all when two were open with each other, more could be said after all by actions on some occasions.


(requested by captainsemma)

And A Teaspoonful Of Love

A CSSS gift for @killiancarstairs! Again, Merry Christmas, Zoe, and sorry that I’m so late. Also, Happy New Year. It’s been a pleasure talking to you!

summary:  The first Christmas Day dinner at Emma’s and Killian’s new house, and Killian and Snow get into a fight over the perfect recipe for Christmas Pudding. Will this end well? 3,3k words of pure family fluff, as the title indicates.

rating: T

read also on and ao3.

Snow’s voice is more than just a little stern. “You are not putting that in my Christmas pudding,” she says firmly, “that’s disgusting.”

Killian can’t believe it. “What are you talking about?” He gestures vividly in the direction of the huge bowl his soon-to-be mother-in-law is protecting with both hands held over it. “You can’t make a proper pudding without–”

“Watch me!” she cuts him off.

He tilts his head. “I’m not planning to. If we’re serving a pudding on our first Christmas in this house–”

She narrows her eyes. “Listen, pirate. Let me tell you how it works in my kitchen–”

“With all due respect, Milady,” he interrupts dryly, “this isn’t your kitchen.”

Snow gives him one of her legendary eye rolls. “You know what I meant.”

“I do,” he replies, “and still, the only way to do this right–”

“Please,” she snaps, “who are you, masterchef of the Enchanted Forest?!”

Killian is taken aback. “Master-what?”

She snorts. “Boiled mackerel is all I say.”

His expression is only a little wounded, but he wouldn’t be Killian Jones if he didn’t have an adequate comeback. “Your daughter has never complained about my boiled mackerel – or anything else, for all that matters.” He can’t help but smirk, to which Snow raises her chin in that stubborn gesture Emma has definitely inherited from her, like the stubbornness itself.

“That’s what you think,” she fires back.

That throws him a little off track. “What does that–”

Before he can inquire any further, Emma rushes into the kitchen, obviously alerted from her Christmas decorating by the rash voices of her mother and her pirate fiancé. “Guys!” she exclaims. “Really?

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