captainswanandclintasha asked:

I would sent you everything on that list, but can you write this one: "i asked you to babysit one time and now my child keeps asking when you will spend time with them again"?? Pleeeease!

Hehe, it’s like you knew it was your prompt coming *g* Hope you like it, honey!! <3

Not A Babysitter; ~ 2, 200 words; also on

Emma Swan has 4 problems and she tries to regain some semblance of control by listing them in her head on the way home in the precise order in which they developed.

Problem #1: She moved. That on its own is neither a problem, nor unusual. It is not her apartment or the building or the landlord. It is her damn next-door neighbour. Her extremely good-looking, well-build, accent-wielding, guitar-strumming, jogging-in-a-very-fit-white-shirt-every-morning-but-Sunday neighbour. And, frankly, wanting to jump a man like that meant one thing and one thing only – she is not losing her sight or hearing.

The problem is that for the last 3 months Emma Swan has been having absolutely ridiculous, the-hell-I’m-not-14-and-he-is-not-in-a-band, stupid, stupid fantasies about one Killian Jones writing her a love song and freaking serenading her. And that just won’t do.

Problem #2: She has terrible luck. It is a standing issue in her life to be honest but it never seizes to amaze her just how bad her luck can get.

“No, no, no. You cannot do this to me!”

Emma stared at the text in absolute horror. A text. Her babysitter was letting her know she ‘just won’t be able to make it today’ with a fucking text. She should’ve stopped using that agency when they sent that one girl who came over with 5, she counted them – 5, history books under her arm and tried to make Henry pancakes for dinner. Try being the operating word.

“I was going to say ‘Good morning’ but now I think I will stick to just ‘Morning’.”

The deep, accented voice only makes her groan again and Emma turns around to see Killian Jones, a very sweaty and flushed Killian Jones with a ridiculously bright pair of headphones hanging on his neck, raise his arms in an attempt to placate her.

“You can just head to Horrible, God awful, I’m fucked Morning.”

“Oh,” his mix of amusement and concern would be quite entertaining, if Emma was in the mood to be entertained. “Any way I can attempt a dashing rescue of your morning?”

“Unless you happened to score a babysitter last night, who hasn’t left your apartment yet and is free for the day, I’d say no.”

He actually, genuinely, honest to God, blushes at that, chuckling somewhat uneasily and Emma is stuck between her now-unavoidable amusement and feeling slightly bad for making him feel that uncomfortable. But how the hell was she supposed to know? He certainly looked the type.

“You need somebody to watch your boy?” Killian asks after clearing his throat for the third time.

“Yes,” she admit, slightly on guard but then again he wouldn’t-

“I can do that.”

Or he would.

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phone wallpaper + KH x artwork

So after my boyfriend was being super dumb with his puns I decided to leave the living room, saying jokingly over my shoulder as an end-of-discussion: “I’m going to ready Larry smut now.”

And my boyfriend’s like: “Oooh. Read it aloud.”

And I’m like: “I’m telling tumblr.”

Him: “Okay, but that means you actually have to read the smut aloud.”

–5 minutes later, I’m in the bedroom checking regular computer stuffs–

Boyfriend from the other room: “Babe, you’re not reading it aloud.”

Me: “I’m not reading Larry smut right now! I was kidding!”

Boyfriend: “Don’t lie to me!”