Payback’s a Bitch
A birthday fic for @annytecture!
Happy Birthday my dear sweet Ann! Your presence brings so much joy and light into my life, and I am eternally grateful for all your magnificent cheerleading skills. This one’s for you, darling.
Prompt: Killian and Emma get caught in a “delicate situation” by Snow, playing off the time when Emma walked in on Snowing in bed.
Thank you to @seethelovelyintheworld for the idea and the read through!
Rated: M
Words: ~1600
“Mmm,” Emma hummed, snuggling into Killian’s side as they both panted furiously, coming down from the high, their chests heaving in unison. Mid-afternoon sex was definitely the way to go, she decided, even though there were probably other things they were supposed to be doing at this time of day.
She licked her lips as she slid her hand down his torso, her thoughts hazy as she concentrated on the pattern her fingertips were making in his chest hair, the vague thought that there really was something they were supposed to be doing right now passing quickly from her mind as she followed the trail of hair down his stomach.
Killian settled back against the pillows, pulling her closer to him as he pressed a kiss into her temple. He raked a hand back through his hair, mussing it further.
“That was…”
“I know, right?” she responded, grinning.
Her leg slid against his, knee nudging in between his thighs. “Think you have another one in you?” she asked as her fingers slid lower and lower, smiling when she felt his stomach muscles spasm as she reached that sensitive area just below his belly button.
“Hmm,” he contemplated, biting his lower lip as his gorgeous blue eyes gazed upon her. Loose tendrils of hair were falling over his forehead and she loved him like this – scruffy, disheveled and naked – but most importantly…naked.
Tag: CS fluff
Can We Have A Fabulous Time and Talk About…
The Fourth Time It Happened?
Hey, my loves! This is part 4/? of the story of how Captain Killian-can’t-get-enough-of-his-daughter Jones can’t stop waking up in the middle of the night because he’s just too stinkin in love with his little girl. Leia is 3 months old in this part. This segment contains a bit of angst (well, if you consider cranky Emma angsty, anyway) but of course it ends in fluff.
Also, I want to point out that there is a part of this segment that ties into this other fic that I wrote a while ago so I highly suggest reading it before reading this, just for a maximum-fluffy-feels-experience 😉
And, if you’re just arriving, here’s links to the first 3 parts of this story.
And once again, I’ll tag some people who left kind words. You are all the best!
@naiariddle @raggedyclaraa @vigilantewives @thegladelf @sunshine-and-the-catsuit @flslp87
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The fourth time it happens, Emma gets pretty pissed off, actually. She wakes up and is nothing but cold. Sure, she’s got blankets, but the pair of arms that are usually providing her with her preferred type of warmth are absent. It was a long, annoying day at the station and the past two nights Leia hasn’t slept well, which means neither has she. For once, the stupid pirate has figured out how to turn the monitor off, so she can’t hear what he’s up to down the hall. But she damn well knows that’s where he is.
Groaning, her head pounding with fatigue, she whips off the covers and stomps to her 3 month old’s room. When she’s three quarters of the way there, she hears Killian singing Leia’s song to her softly. Normally, this would make her heart melt, but not tonight. Tonight she just gets angrier and wonders why on earth he thinks singing to a sleeping child at 3am is appropriate.
He’s standing next to Leia’s crib, the baby tucked snugly into the crook of his arm, and he’s swaying back and forth, dancing to his own music. She interrupts him mid-lyric.
“Why the hell must you keep doing this?” she demands, her arms crossed and her eyes narrow.
“Swan,” he turns, startled a little by her. “Did I leave the monitor on again? I didn’t mean to wake you, lo—“
“Nope. You shut it off. I just woke up. Because I was cold. Because I was in bed. All alone.”
His expression immediately turns to one of guilt. “Emma, I’m so —“
“You can’t keep doing this, Killian. I’ve told you a hundred times, you have to let her sleep in her crib. She will grow up to be a terror if all you ever do is pick her up all the time!”
She pretty much yells it, and he looks like a kicked puppy. His eyes get downcast and his bottom lip sticks out involuntarily. She mildly regrets the tone of voice she used, but it’s the middle of the night and she’s super cranky so she continues her rant.
“And I don’t like it when I wake up alone. I hate it. It’s cold and it makes me worry. Then it just makes me angry. And it leads to loss of my precious sleep which is not good.”
“I’m sorry,” he whispers.
His apology is sincere, but she’s still fuming. “Give her to me.”
He tilts his head, his brow furrowing. “Swan, I’ll just—“
She holds out her arms expectantly, basically snarling. “Give her to me, Killian.”
Killian surrenders Leia to Emma, who cradles her against her shoulder, patting her back. “So let me ask you again. Why do you keep doing this?” she asks again, very loudly.
“Emma, you’ll wake her—“
“I am waiting for an answer—“
“Because I worry!” he bellows, and suddenly he’s being loud, too. This time she’s the one who startles, and she turns to look at him full on for the first time. There’s something about his expression that makes her hard edges soften a little.
“Sometimes I wake in the middle of the night, and sometimes all I can think about is that even after everything, there’s still a possibility that I could lose this.” His voice is quivering, and it’s suddenly severely affecting Emma’s stomach. “I could lose this life that we have, the life I never thought would happen for me. I was a ruthless, terrible pirate for hundreds of years. I don’t deserve this. Any of it. Not this house, not this night. I don’t deserve you, and especially not Leia.”
Each word he says is like a lash to her skin. “Killian,” Emma says, her tone completely different now. It’s quieter and soft, almost pleading. She can tell that he’s in pain and it guts her like a knife twisting its way into her stomach.
“I wake up, and I can feel you breathing in my arms,” he says quietly, and Emma feels her heart lurching all over the place. “And that makes me feel halfway better. But I can’t be sure that my happy ending is still intact until I’ve come in here and felt that little girl breathe.”
Emma stares at him, a pained expression on her face. God, how on earth could she be such an asshole? She has no idea what to do now; no idea what words or actions to use to make amends for her foolish anger or soothe these unsettling feelings he’s been dealing with. Neither of them moves or speaks for a few seconds, and Killian returns his gaze to the floor.
Finally, Emma tries to fix it.
She walks over to him slowly, but he doesn’t turn to look at her. She bites her lip, remorse overwhelming her. “Hey,” she whispers, and when he finally looks up, he takes in her heartbreakingly apologetic face. She’s holding Leia out toward him, and he takes her reflexively, nestling her back in the crook of his right arm.
Emma tentatively raises her hand, tucking a finger underneath his chin and using it to tilt his head. “Look at me for a second,” she whispers, practically begging him. He obeys, and the tears in the corner of his eyes mirror her own. “You do deserve her, okay? There is no one more deserving of being this little girl’s father than you. She needs you. Not just anyone. You. She needs you and she loves you more than anything else. I need you to understand that. I need you to. Okay?”
He bites his lip, but he nods. She exhales forcefully, and she just can’t resist it any longer. “Come here,” she orders, wrapping her arms around his neck tightly. He leans into her willingly, pressing his forehead against her pulse, being mindful that Leia doesn’t get squished in between them. She takes two deep breaths before she speaks again. “Can you feel me breathing?” she whispers.
He nods, she can feel it as his nose nudges her collarbone with each movement of his head. “You’re not going to lose us, Killian,” she says firmly, scratching soothingly at the base of his neck. “We’re right here. I understand why you could worry. It makes sense, and it’s okay. I get it. But we’re right here, sweetheart. Please don’t be scared.”
He doesn’t say anything, but he shifts Leia to one arm and wraps the other one around her, rubbing at the small of her back. She squeezes him tighter. “I’m so sorry, Killian,” she tells him. “I wish that I’d known before how you felt. I just wake up and you’re gone, and it makes me sad, sometimes.”
“I’m sorry too, Emma,” he says immediately, still nuzzling her neck. “I should’ve explained earlier. And I shouldn’t just leave you like that. I don’t mean for you to be cold or alone. I’m sorry, love.”
She chuckles. “It’s okay,” she assures him, pressing a kiss to the side of his head, “I wasn’t that cold. Just super cranky.”
She feels him smile against her skin, and she sniffles. “And I’m sorry, my sweet Princess Leia,” she coos, looking down at her daughter, “Mean Mummy interrupted your song, didn’t I? I’m sorry, little love. Should we ask Daddy to start it over?”
Killian looks up, smiling at Emma for the first time. She smiles back with tight lips, her expression still apologetic. He raises Leia high enough to kiss her forehead, and then holds her toward her mother, who promptly does the same.
“I think we’ll do a little crib-side serenade, if that’s alright with you little love,” he tells Leia, lowering her back into her crib. The baby doesn’t stir, her little eyelids remaining closed, keeping her bright green eyes hidden.
Once his arms are free, Killian opens them for Emma, pulling her flush against his chest for a warm hug. She wraps her arms around his back, letting her hands rest on his shoulder blades. She presses her cheek over his heart and he sways with her, both of their eyes locked on their little princess. “Will you sing with me?” Killian whispers, his lips at her hair. “Do you know all the words?”
“Of course I do, Daddy,” she assures him. (He sings the song several hundreds of times a day, how could she not know the words?)
Chest to chest, cheek to cheek, they start singing in unison, crooning out the melody Killian wrote for Leia when she was a mere peanut in Emma’s belly.
I love you, more than ships love waves,
More than birds love tides,
More than souls that wait,
Love the peace they find,
You’re my very best friend
and soon you’ll be my first mate
I’ll hold you in my arms,
where you’ll always be safe,
You’ll always make me proud,
and you’ll never be alone
because for my whole life
your heart will be my home.They finish the song, still pressed together, and if one were to look in at them it would be impossible to tell where Killian’s body ends and Emma’s begins. They look at each other, love and fatigue equally heavy in both of their gazes. And simultaneously, they start the song over again. After all, it’s 3 in the morning and their child is sound asleep…it’s obvious that singing to her is more than appropriate.
And that was the fourth time.
Can We Happily Discuss…
The Third Time It Happened?
Hey, my loves! It’s been too long since I bestowed a Leia fic upon you. This is part 3/? of the story of how Captain Killian-can’t-get-enough-of-his-daughter Jones can’t stop waking up in the middle of the night because he’s just too stinkin in love with his little girl. Leia is 8 weeks old now. This is literally nothing but fluff, AS ALWAYS.
Click here if you missed the first time it happened.
Click here if you missed the second time it happened.Tagging some people who enjoyed the first parts and left kind words! Here’s some more for you @naiariddle @vigilantewives @flslp87 @thegladelf @sunshine-and-the-catsuit @raggedyclaraa
ENJOY! XXO
*************
The third time it happens is a classic. Leia is 8 weeks old. Emma wakes to the sound of Killian’s voice again, but this time he isn’t showering Leia with loving compliments; this time, he’s telling her important stories.
“And then, your mummy had the audacity to run straight into the barn. Can you believe her, duckling? So of course, Daddy ran straight in after her. Couldn’t let her tumble back in time all by herself, could I?”
Emma bites her lip to keep from laughing aloud. She crawls from her side of the bed to Killian’s, grabbing hold of the baby monitor. (Killian insists it lay upon his nightside table. Which of course, does not surprise Emma in the slightest.)
Before Killian can get too much further in the story, Emma presses the button that makes the little screen pop out, and switches the monitor from audio mode to video mode. (Killian has no idea that video mode exists. She dares not tell him. Emma knows that if he knew about it, he’d never sleep again; he’d literally spend all night staring at the little screen, watching their daughter snooze.)
When the video kicks in she can see Leia and Killian in the rocking chair. This time he’s got his knees up, the baby girl lounging against the tops of her daddy’s thighs in her pink sailboat pyjamas.
“So then, Mummy and Daddy found….well, another daddy in a tavern. Mummy had to distract the other daddy while I went to talk to Grandma, and I was quite sad about it, actually,” he admits, and Emma muffles her maniacal laughter in her pillow.
“But the other daddy fell straight in love with your mummy, I assure you. You’ll soon learn that it doesn’t matter the time or place, little love. Mummy and I are like magnets, always drawn to each other no matter the circumstances. Actually, I think you’re a little magnet yourself. Because we sure are stuck on you.”
He pauses the story, taking a minute to just look at her. She’s still so small, even after 8 weeks. Killian strokes each of her teeny toes before tracing the sailboat patterns on her belly. Each of his movements are so tender and instinctual, and in that moment Emma finds it impossible to believe that he was once a ruthless pirate, a man to be feared. She’d known he was going to be an amazing father, but each and every day he exceeds her wildest expectations. He is always so gentle and quiet with her, always ensuring that she has whatever she needs. Emma thought she knew the depth of Killian’s love before Leia arrived, but she’d been so, so wrong. His love for their daughter is unending and unparalleled. That love is the most precious thing in Emma’s entire world, and she would willingly give up anything if it were ever threatened. Anything.
“And so, we went to the royal ball at King Midas’ castle. Mummy wore the most beautiful red dress in all the realms, and her hair looked like gold spun by the crocodile himself. She was absolutely breathtaking.”
Emma closes her eyes for a while, letting herself enjoy the story. He’d picked a good one. She laughs while Killian explains to Leia how she got her name. “Your brother says the real Princess Leia is a warrior of the galaxy or something as such. But that’s nonsense, little bird. You, of course, are the real princess Leia to me.”
Emma smiles, another memory bubbling to the surface.
“You’re sure that’s what you want to call her?”
“Aye, love. Leia Swan-Jones. As long as you approve, of course.”
“Yeah, I love it. But we really don’t have to hyphenate, Killian. We don’t need to have the Swan in there. Leia Jones is just as nice.”
“Of course we need the Swan in there, love. She’s just as much yours as she is mine. She’s our little duckling, and everything in her life should remind her that she’ll always have the both of us. Everything, including her name.”
“And I ask you yet again, Killian. What if it’s a boy? We do not have a boy name picked out whatsoever.”
“Not to worry, Swan. It’s a girl.”
Emma is whisked back to the current moment when Killian’s storytelling voice drops to a whisper and she finds she has to press her ear right up against the little machine to keep listening.
“And as we danced together for the very first time, I felt something change, little love. Now, this part’s a secret, so we’ll have to keep it right here between you and me, alright?”
Emma’s eyes widen and she presses her ear as close to the monitor as it can get.
“After Mummy did the little walkabout around me and then came back into my arms, there was something different. Something in her eyes. A little more sparkle, a little less of a shield. And that’s when I knew, Leia. In that very moment, Daddy could tell that Mummy loved him just as much as he did her. Now of course, Daddy knew he couldn’t say anything about it, not right then. We were dealing with a crisis. But still, it made Daddy’s heart flutter as fast as yours did when I first heard it.”
Emma feels her heart do all sorts of flips and flops. Of course, she’d come to realize sometime after that night that she’d fallen in love with him during that dance. But the fact that he could tell at the time…well, it was only more proof in the pile of evidence that he knew her much better than she knew herself.
“And speaking of your breathtaking mummy,” he coos, back to speaking a little louder, “I’d best get back to her, little love. She’s just like you, she loves her warm snuggles. She might be getting cold all alone down the hall, hmm? Shall I go and gather her back into my arms before she wakes and catches us?”
Emma watches Killian stand, hugging Leia tightly to his chest before setting her carefully back into her crib. “I love you so much, sweetheart,” he whispers, leaning down to kiss her cheek softly. “And Mummy does, too. We’ll never leave you, darling. We’ll always be right here.”
After a few more seconds, Emma watches Killian turn to leave the room. Quickly she snaps the screen back into place and puts the monitor back on the bedside table before scrambling back to her side of the bed and doing her best to fake-sleep. She makes sure her breathing is deep and even and shuts her eyes. In a few seconds, she hears Killian open and close their door quietly, before walking over to their bed.
She has to work really hard at her sleeping facade as she feels Killian’s fingers brushing the hair away from her face. And not only just that; a beat later, she feels his lips on her forehead. “I love you, darling,” he whispers, and a giant, giant lump forms in Emma’s throat. What did she do to deserve such a kind, loving man who kisses her and whispers sweet nothings to her even when she’s unconscious?
She feels him climb into bed, and soon after he’s making good on his promise to Leia. His arms snake around her, encouraging her to roll over and lie chest-to-chest with him. She accidentally forgets that she’s supposed to be pretending to sleep, because she all too willingly snuggles against him, nuzzling her face against his collarbone, where Leia had just been. She loves that both of their distinct scents drift pleasantly into her nose.
Rubbing her back, Killian kisses her head before whispering almost inaudibly. “Are you awake, sweetheart? Is everything alright?”
“Yeah,” she whispers, and she’s shocked at how thick with emotion her voice is. The lump is still in her throat, the strength of her love and appreciation for him threatening to overwhelm her.
He immediately senses the emotion in her tone, and he tilts her chin up so that he can look at her face, his thumb resting in the cleft of her chin. He sees little tears forming in her eyes. “What is it, Emma? Did you have a bad dream?”
“No,” she assures him, leaning into his touch, loving the feel of his strong, calloused palm against her cheek. “It wasn’t a bad dream. It was a good dream. A really, really good dream.”
“Yeah? Well I’m glad to hear that, darling. Do you want to tell me about it?”
“Nah, s’okay,” she tells him, making her tone sound sleepy. (It isn’t hard, she is sleepy.) “Maybe we can talk about it in the morning. I just love you, and Leia, and Henry, and you, so, so, so much.”
He smiles at her, brushing his nose against hers before pulling her back against his chest, squeezing her tight and encouraging her to sleep by rubbing his knuckles softly against her scalp. “We love you too, Swan. We love you too.”
And that was the third time.
Can We Please Talk About…
The Second Time It Happened? (A Leia fic)
Hey, my loves! It’s been too long since I bestowed a Leia fic upon you. This is part 2/? of the story of how Captain Killian-can’t-get-enough-of-his-daughter Jones can’t stop waking up in the middle of the night because he’s just too stinkin in love with his little girl. Leia is 6 weeks old. This is literally nothing but fluff, AS ALWAYS.
Click here if you missed the first time it happened.
****
The second time it happens, Emma wakes to the sound of whispered words of endearment. “You’re so, so beautiful. But even more importantly, you’re smart. You’re so, so smart. And brave. And loud, especially loud. You just love being loud, don’t you?” Emma snickers, propelling herself backwards towards the middle of the bed, hoping for her back to collide with her pirate’s warm, hard chest.
She moves a few inches, but still doesn’t make contact. “You’re going to fall off the bed, pirate,” she whispers. “Why are you so far over?”
Killian ignores her. “You’re so special, darling. I don’t know what I’d ever do without you. My beautiful, sweet…” (Emma smiles, wondering what prompted her pirate to get all wordy and cheesy with her in the middle of the night.)
“….perfect love. I love you so, so much, my littlest love.”
Emma’s eyes jerk open wider. LITTLEST?!
She turns around, and contrary to her prior beliefs, Killian’s side of the bed is empty. He is not whispering loving words across the bed to her. No, no. He is whispering loving words to his daughter. Loving words that just so happen to be flowing audibly through the baby monitor.
Emma scoffs and laughs and groans all at the same time, throwing back her covers and trudging to Leia’s room. This man.
She arrives just in time to watch Killian pepper kisses all over Leia’s tiny face.
“Killian Jones,” she scolds playfully, and he turns to her, the look on his face one of a child who’s just gotten caught with his hands in the cookie jar. “What might you be doing out of bed?”
“I…umm….I…” he stammers, and she’s brought straight back to the Enchanted Forest, as he stumbled to come up with a fake name.
“Charles. Prince Charles. And I’m Princess….Leia.”
Emma just laughs. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to hand over the merchandise,” she explains, holding out her arms expectantly. Killian sticks out his bottom lip, pretending to pout as he hands Emma their daughter. Emma cradles the sleeping bundle in her arms, holding Leia’s face close enough to nuzzle with her cheek. “What is Daddy doing with you, duckling?” She coos, her voice quiet but enthusiastic, “Is he bugging you? Aren’t you sick of being told how pretty you are? I hope not. You’re so pretty, Leiabear. Especially when you’re sleeping, yes. Mmm, I love you so much.”
Now it’s Emma’s turn to pepper kisses all over. Killian watches his girls with delight, joy overflowing his heart. Emma looks so radiant in her silky white nightgown, bed hair falling gracefully over her shoulders, pretty pink cheek nuzzled against Leia’s matching one. Her hands hold the baby like she’s done it for years, not weeks. He’s so, so proud, and feels way, way too lucky.
“You okay?” she asks him, catching him staring.
“Aye, Swan,” he answers her, “Just admiring my lovely family.”
Emma beams, turning back to their daughter. “You tell Daddy that if he’s gunna sneak out to see you in the middle of the night, he’s gotta learn how to turn the monitor off so Mumma doesn’t hear him talking to you.”
Killian emits a frustrated groan. “That bloody contraption is still on? Bloody hell. I swear, I toggled all of the correct—“
Emma cuts him off. “Daddy’s no good with buttons, Leia,” she continues, rubbing her nose against the baby’s, “We’re gunna have to teach him all over again, aren’t we?”
“Swan, I swear, I hit the blue button, just like you—“
“Red button,” she corrects him, kissing Leia’s nose softly with her lips before turning to set her down in the crib, “The red button turns it on and off.”
Killian grabs hold of her wrist gently as she’s halfway through lowering Leia back into her bed. “Wait, wait,” he insists, giving her a pleading expression. “Can I have me merchandise back? Just for a second?”
She opens her mouth to tease him again, but then she really looks at his face and, as usual, every part of her turns soft. He just wants to hold his daughter and make sure she knows how much she’s loved. That’s all he wants.
Emma hands Leia to Killian, and she makes a small, frustrated whimpering noise. (She’s probably tired of being passed back and forth like a basketball during her precious 2 hour sleeping interval) “There, there, my littlest love,” Killian whispers, leaning her against his bare shoulder and rubbing her back the way he knows she likes. Leia’s body relaxes, slumped comfortably against her father’s. Killian sways as he rubs her back, using his blunted left arm to hold her securely against his chest. Emma watches with a smile, remembering a conversation they’d had on multiple occasions before Leia was born.
“How am I going to hold her when I’m down a bloody hand? What if it scares her?”
“You will find a way and it will feel just right, to you and to her. I promise. And she absolutely won’t be scared a single bit. I promise. You’ll just be Daddy. Every kid adores their dad. I promise, Killian.”
“You promise?”
“Yes. The only thing I can’t promise is that she’ll be a SHE, so you should really stop that.”
“Oh, she’s a she. I can just feel it. You’ve our little princess in there, Swan.”
“Whatever you say, Killian.”
Emma shakes her head at the memory, returning to the present. Killian’s lips are pressed to Leia’s hair, his eyes closed while he rememorizes the scent he’s already banked in his mind thousands of times.
Emma moves to stand next to him, putting one hand over his and using the other to lightly scratch his bare back. She sways in time with him, pressing her lips against his shoulder. “You’re so incredible with her,” she praises him, unable to keep her mouth shut about it, “I could watch you hold her forever. Even though it’s the middle of the night and I’m exhausted.”
Killian lets out a breathy laugh. “Do you have any idea how much I love you?”
“Who are you talking to, pirate?” she teases him, nipping at his shoulder.
“You this time, Swan,” he clarifies, turning his head away from Leia to press his face into Emma’s hair. “I’ll never stop hoping that this little person right here grows up to be just like her mother.”
“I don’t know,” Emma counters, nodding at the way Leia is so comfortably snuggled in Killian’s grip, “She’s quite the daddy’s girl and you’ve taken her sailing every single day of her life. We’re bound to have a little pirate on our hands, I think.”
Killian tsked. “Tell Mummy to stop teasing you, princess,” he coos at Leia, rubbing the baby’s shoulders with his thumb. “She’s always so calm when we’re on the waves.”
“Of course she is,” Emma agrees, already looking forward to the morning, when Killian would inevitably pack up everything and bundle Leia up for their morning sail, “she’s your daughter.”
And that was the second time.
(Because I am channeling my grrrr into CS feels.)
They don’t leave the house for two whole days. By some miracle, Storybrooke manages to leave its sheriff and savior alone long enough to allow her the relaxation. (Killian wagers that the prince and princess are behind silence of Emma’s talking phone, for which he will have to thank them profusely when he next sees them. He will not, however, mention to either of them exactly what he and their daughter have done with some of that time.)
On the third day, it’s not Storybrooke duty that calls but semi-parental duty: Henry sends Killian a little word message asking to go for a quick sail on the Jolly. A grin tugs at Killian’s lips. It’s an absolutely beautiful morning and a sail with the lad sounds lovely.
He’s surprised, then, when Emma vehemently says, “No.”
“Love, we’re just going for a sail around the harbor.”
“No.”
She’s even more of an open book to him now than she was when they first met, and he can see the fear swimming in her eyes. He softens. “Emma, you’re not going to lose me again.”
“Three times, Killian,” she says softly. “Four if you count Author World. I just …”
He pulls her into a hug. She melts into his embrace and holds on tight. “We have to go out and face the world sometime, love. I mean, I have no complaints about the time we spent christening the various rooms in this house” – he feels her chuckle – “but our future is beyond these walls as well.”
“I know,” she whispers.
She’s still clinging, though Killian can’t blame her. After all they’ve been through, he’d be more surprised if she wasn’t. But staying in the house isn’t the answer. “Why don’t you come with us?” Killian offers. “The lad and I will sail to a nice, quiet spot and the three of us can relax for a little while.”
That gets her to pull away and look up at him, a hesitant smile on her face. “You’re sure? I know the captain and first mate thing is your thing with Henry. I just don’t want to intrude.“
“You could never intrude, love,” Killian assures her before pressing a kiss to her forehead. “So. What say you?”
She glances to the window, where the bright sunshine is spilling into the room and making patterns on the hardwood floor. “I guess we’re going sailing.”
Killian grins. And his newly restarted heart skips more than a couple beats when she wraps her arms around him and whispers, “And after we come back to port and take Henry home, I believe there’s a few rooms on the Jolly we could christen, too.”
Can We Please Talk About…
The First Time It Happened? (A Leia fic)
Hey, my loves! It’s been too long since I bestowed a Leia fic upon you. This is part 1/? of the story of how Captain Killian-can’t-get-enough-of-his-daughter Jones can’t stop waking up in the middle of the night because he’s just too stinkin in love with his little girl. Leia is 6 weeks old. This is literally nothing but fluff, AS ALWAYS.
***
The first time it happens, Emma wakes up in a panic. Her arm stretches across the bed to find Killian’s side empty, her hand groping at nothing. Her heart races as her eyes adjust to the darkness enveloping their room while she jumps out of bed. There’s only one place he could be, and if she doesn’t find him there she knows she’ll combust with fear. She races down the hallway.
She exhales loudly in the doorway to 6-week-old Leia’s room, prompting her husband to look up from his daughter’s face to behold his wife’s. Killian is in the rocking chair in the corner of the room, Leia fast asleep in his protective arms.
“You scared the hell out of me,” Emma scolds, crossing her own arms and entering the room. “Did she wake up? How come you didn’t wake me up?” That was their usual routine. Killian had the ears of a bat when it came to his daughter, and he always woke Emma whenever Leia woke so they could tend to her together.
“I’m sorry, love,” he whispers, a finger of his tracing lines on Leia’s pink cheek. “No, she didn’t wake. I did. Couldn’t stop thinking about her.”
Emma’s expression softens, and she tiptoes a little closer to her two favourite people. “Room for me?” she asks quietly.
Killian shifts Leia to one arm, inviting Emma to join them in the rocker. She climbs onto his lap willingly, and he settles Leia against Emma’s chest, effectively holding both of them. Even while she knows Killian’s got an expert hold on her, Emma can’t help but curl her own arm around Leia, too, her fingers stroking the fabric that covers her round little belly. Emma’s eyes have well adjusted now and she gazes down at her little girl. Their little girl. Even after six weeks, Emma is still in perplexed awe at how perfect of a blend she is of herself and Killian. Killian’s lips, her nose. Killian’s hair, her eyes. Killian’s dramatic flare, her unending stubbornness.
Killian breaks the silence, pulling Emma out of her reverie. “It scares me, sometimes,” he admits to her, his eyes back on Leia.
The fact that it’s the middle of the night does not hinder Emma’s ability to understand exactly what her husband means. “How much you love her? I know. Scares me, too.”
“All the while she grew inside you, I thought…I thought I knew what it was like to love her. But now, now that she’s here, I just…it consumes my every thought. Like just now, when I woke. I couldn’t stop thinking about how badly I wanted to touch my pinkie to her little nose,” he rambles on, performing the action he’d just named. “How’s it possible to love somebody’s nose so much?”
Emma smiles so wide that the skin that borders her eyes crinkles tightly. “I thought you loved my nose?!” she says, feigning offence.
Killian grins, raising his pointer finger to boop Emma’s nose this time. “Oh, I do,” he assures her, softly stroking her nose’s tip, “But not quite as much as I love this one.” His finger returns to Leia’s nose, and Emma strokes his knuckles.
“It’s possible,” she says slowly, returning to his earlier question, “Because that particular nose is attached to your kid. And you’ll never love anyone or anything more than you love your kid. Not even your wife,” she tells him, her voice turning toward teasing at the end.
“She’s our kid,” he clarifies, pressing his lips to her temple, “And I love my wife very, very much.”
“Mmm,” Emma hums at his words, turning her face to press her lips to his gently. He raises his hand to cup her face, drawing his thumb over her jawbone. She melts into the kiss, her head spinning. He breaks it and presses his forehead to hers, breathing in her scent before looking back down at Leia.
“She looks exactly like you,” he says.
Emma just sighs. “You say that every single day, Killian.”
“Because I’ll never be over it, love. She’s your spitting image.”
“Killian, she’s got your hair. And your lips. Look at those lips.”
Killian traces Leia’s lips with his thumb. “So beautiful,” he murmurs, watching as Leia yawns in her sleep, her little mouth forming a small little O.
Emma’s breath catches at the loving expression on Killian’s face, as it so often does. There truly aren’t words to describe how much he loves his little girl. She cards her fingers through his hair. “We should really get back to bed,” she whispers.
“But she’s just so precious,” he argues, directing his gaze toward Leia’s sleeping features, “I quite love holding her.”
Emma rolls her eyes. “Oh, you don’t say,” she teases him.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks, defensive.
Emma shakes her head playfully. “Oh, nothing. I mean, you only hold her for the majority of each day, awake or asleep, in the crook of your arm, just there…you never let my parents hold her, and even I have to beg…and you’re telling me you like it? Never would’ve guessed.”
Killian huffs. “Aren’t I allowed to hold my own daughter, Swan?”
“Yes, of course. But you’re also allowed to let her sleep in her crib and teach her to be a nice, independent baby.”
“She likes it when I hold her,” he says, still really defensive. Emma deems this fight not one to have in the wee hours of the night.
“Of course she does,” Emma assures him supportively, turning her attention back to the little person in Killian’s hold. “You love that daddy of yours, don’t you, little bird? Yes, I know,” she coos to the sleeping baby, brushing her fingers over the soft mat of hair on the crown of her head, “Mummy loves him, too.”
Killian smiles, and Emma leans in to kiss his cheek, nuzzling her face there. “Okay, Daddy,” she coaxes, wiggling in his arms, “Your little princess will be calling for you soon enough. You’d best put her back so you can hold me for a change.”
Killian chuckles while Emma gets up carefully, pulling him to a stand with her. Killian leans down to press a gentle kiss to Leia’s forehead before he lowers the tiny infant into her crib. “I’ll be right down the hall, my littlest love,” he promises her, watching her little tummy rise and fall. “Mummy needs a cuddle.”
Killian threads his fingers through Emma’s, intent on finally retreating toward the door. But he’s surprised to find Emma’s feet planted in place next to Leia’s crib, his tug at her hand useless. “What is it, love?” he asks, peering down into the crib, brief panic brewing as he wonders if Emma’s found something out of place.
“Nothing,” she assures him, squeezing his hand. “I just…love her. I just love her.”
Keeping their fingers threaded, Killian wraps both of his arms around his wife, cuddling behind her and leaning his chin on her shoulder. They both watch Leia for a few minutes longer, just swaying there in front of her crib, never tiring of staring at her sweet little face. It’s such a simple, loving gesture, two parents watching over their child; but all the same, it’s one that neither of them experienced as children. And it’s for that reason that they stand, steady and proud, both determined to ensure that their daughter never has to grow up like they did.
And that was the first time.
Can We Finish Talking About…
That First Night Home?!
Sorry I’ve been AWOL for so long guys I feel awful 😦 crazy stuff going on. Butttt I’m back to talk about our favourite domestic angels. This is the end of That First Night Home, my take on how Emma and Killian will spend their first night in the big blue house. Here’s part I and part II if you missed them and are just joining the party now. Warning: This third part contains some angst, but if you know me, you know it’s just secretly a pile of fluff with like a light dusting of angst…. enjoy!!
*********
There was a porch swing on the back porch, perfect for Killian’s plans. Emma held the two cinnamon-topped mugs in her hands, a blanket slung over Killian’s bare shoulder. Emma had tried to insist that he put on something a little warmer, but he assured her that the closeness of her body was enough to keep him warm. The sun had just started its descent when he settled them on the porch swing. They sat sideways, Emma between Killian’s legs, her back leaning comfortably against his chest and his arms settled around her middle, cocoa mug in his good hand. She arranged the blanket over them both, shivering with pleasure despite her being in a cocoon of warmth. The both sat in comfortable silence for a while, sipping their cocoa, content watching the dazzling pink sky. Killian took deep breaths, appreciating the crisp, clean air – Emma could feel them against her back, his chest moving up and down rhythmically. The breeze tickled her face, and despite her exhaustion, she was happy they were outside. Mostly because she knew how happy this was making Killian. And she loved it when Killian was happy.
Their right hands were occupied by the mugs, but their left arms were slack, Emma’s hand resting on Killian’s forearm. When she needed a break from staring into the direct rays of sunset, she turned her gaze downward, and her eyes found the end of his left arm, a part of him she’d not yet spent enough time appreciating. Hesitantly, she slid her hand down his left forearm, knowing full well that he was hyperaware of her movement. When she reached the end she gingerly brushed her fingers against the scars, tracing them softly with her fingertips. Killian’s breath caught at her loving gesture. “Does it hurt?” she whispered to him, pausing her patterns, waiting for his answer.
“Sometimes,” he admits, recalling the ends of hot, sticky days when he found the skin particularly chaffed, “But certainly not right now.”
“So this, this is okay?”
“Yes. In fact, it’s lovely.”
She resumed the graze of her fingertips, but gripped the blunt end a little firmer with her thumb, wanting to just hold him. “And you’re okay?”
“It’s like you said earlier, Emma,” he answered, pressing his lips into the hair on the side of her head, “I can’t say I’ve ever been happier.”
She nuzzled back further into him, cuddling as close as she could get, settling back into silence. She continued her ministrations on his arm while they finished their cocoa, the sun lazily making its way down. It was like it specifically chose today to sink slowly, just for them, to elongate their time spent together.
“Can I ask you something?” Emma said, turning to look up at him.
“Course, love.”
“Why was this on the list? Not that I’m complaining…just wondering.”
“Simple, darling. Fresh air does irreplaceable wonders for the soul. You need it as much as you needed those sandwiches.”
“Where’d you learn that?” she asked curiously, “The navy, or the Jolly Roger?”
“That, I learned from my mother, actually,” he admitted, his voice growing soft with the memory. She didn’t know if he’d elaborate, so she stayed quiet, and after a beat of silence, he did. “I don’t remember much of her, but all the memories I have take place outside, by the sea. Liam used to tell me how she’d make sure both of us felt the wind on our cheeks every day, even when we were tiny. We both vowed that if we were to ever have children, we’d do the same,” he said, his voice growing somber towards the end, his eyes far away.
Emma stayed quiet for a moment, absorbing this, raising a hand to his cheek, brushing gently at his stubble. She was desperate to know something, but she didn’t want to push him or overstep her boundaries. She also didn’t want to say the wrong thing as a result of her magnificent fatigue. Then again, she reminded herself, there were no boundaries, not anymore. She took a deep breath, locking her eyes with his. “Is that…” she started, wanting to phrase it right, “Something you’ve ever thought about? Having children?”
He raised his eyebrows slightly, probably shocked that the conversation had spun in this…quite serious direction. But, he answered her honestly, knowing he could trust her with the truth. “When Liam and I were in the navy, I always envisioned settling down with a woman and having children after I finished my service. But then…” he trailed off, and Emma knew the tragic turn the story took from here. “Well. A pirate ship was no fit place to raise a child. Or at least that’s what I thought, before Milah.” Emma kept her expression level, open, listening intently. But truthfully, she was a little shocked; she didn’t know he’d been that serious with Milah. Killian paused, measuring her expression, trying to determine if he should go on. She nodded encouragingly, stroking his face some more. “We talked about it. What it would be like to have a little lad or lass scurrying about, climbing up the riggings. We even tried, a few times. But alas, it never was. And then of course, it would never be…” he trailed off once again. It broke her heart that his life had been wrought with such tragedies. His eyes flitted to her face. “And now with you, I…” he paused, nervousness encompassing him.
“Tell me,” she whispered, tracing his lips with her thumb, “I wanna know.”
“The truth is, I’ve thought about it many times, my love. A little girl running about the house, long blonde tresses like yours. Or a mischievous little lad, just as well. How stupendously wonderful it would be. Also, how scary it would be. You’d be a vision, an expert, and I’d be—“
“An expert?” she interjected, “how do you figure?”
“I’ve seen you with Henry, love. You’re a natural.”
She snorted. “Recall how I’ve been a mother for all of 20 seconds, and that I spent the last 24 hours tracking down my runaway teenager. I’m not an expert or a natural, Killian. We’d have to figure it out together.”
Another beat of silence as he studies her face. “Would you…want to? Figure it out…with…me?”
Can We Gloriously Continue Talking About…
That First Night Home!?
Ahoy, shipmates! Here is part 2/3 of That First Night Home. I cried when I wrote this part. I hope you enjoy it! (Two fic days in a row?! This hiatus is looking good for #CanWeTalkAboutCaptainSwan 😉). If you’re just getting here, this is my take on how, realistically, Emma and Killian would spend their first night at home together. Here’s part one if you missed it. And now, without further adieu, on to the adventures of our fluffy little angels…
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Killian pressed his hand against Emma’s shoulder to turn her back around so he could finish with her hair. He made quick work of it, most of the knots already gone. After he officially finished with the hair pick, she found herself astonished as he began to twist the tresses into a tight braid with his hand and hook.
“How are you doing that?” she asked, awestruck.
“Oh, Swan. I do believe it’s going to take a lifetime for you to learn all the things I excel at,” he joked.
“I look forward to every minute of it,” she said, and she meant it.
When the long braid was completed, Killian stood from the bed, striding over to the dresser. He didn’t know quite what he was searching for, but his goal was simply something soft for his Swan. Luckily, he found what he was after quickly, a silky pair of white night pants and a simple, light pink cotton tee. He also fished out a pair of soft, navy-coloured pants for himself, chuckling at the little sailboats that adorned them. He returned to the bed and placed her pyjamas in front of her, pressing an unexpected kiss against her lips. “Alright, Swan. Is it alright if I take a quick minute to clean myself up while you dress? It won’t take long, but I’ll stay if that’s what you need.”
“No, no, go,” she encouraged, waving her hand towards the bathroom. “I’m okay. It’s amazing, feeling clean. I want that for you, too.”
He nodded at her. “I’ll be right back. No sleeping!”
“Ugh, I’ll try,” she said, exasperated.
“I love you, darling.”
“Me too.”
He darted to the bathroom, quickly removing his clothes, hook, brace, necklace, and rings and stepping into the shower. Quickly he stepped under the spray, not even caring that the water was still freezing. He made quick work, scrubbing his hair and body with haste. Swan was absolutely right; being clean did feel glorious. He quickly towelled off and put on his pyjama pants, smiling at the mental image of his Swan picking them out for him. For the first time in what seemed like forever, he met his reflection in the mirror. Gods, he needed a haircut. He dropped his gaze lower, letting it fall on the blunt end of his left arm. It was mildly red, but he’d seen it have worse days. He briefly considered putting on his brace again to save Emma from having to see it, but he quickly pushed those thoughts away. He’d asked Emma to be vulnerable with him and she had been; it was only fair that he reached the same level of vulnerability. And besides, he had nothing to worry about. He knew how much she loved him. He knew she’d never see him as anything but whole. After towel-drying his hair a little better, he grabbed some antiseptic cream, lotion, and band-aids, before heading back into the bedroom.
Can We Talk About…That First Night Home!?
Ahoy shipmates. This is how I imagine Killian and Emma would realistically spend their first night at home together. This is part ½ or 3, not sure yet. I hope you enjoy!!
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That First Night Home
He’s so, so proud of her.
He deems it a tie, in his mind. His reason for wanting to — no, needing to lift her off her feet split between his raw appreciation of her words, and his complete and utter pride in her for finally being able to say them during one of life’s all too rare quiet moments. He knows how big of a step this is for her, those three little words. He kisses her with fervour, with everything he has, supporting her weight easily, even without a left hand. He holds her flush against his chest, not an ounce of space between them. She’s perfect. And she’s his. And now finally, finally, after weeks, he can finally take care of her properly.
Because even though he’d been to hell and back, she’d been through much worse. Taking on the Darkness, fighting it, embracing it, trying to keep him alive, and having to deal with the pain of losing him far too many times…the list was far too long for Killian’s liking. Even now, as she whispered more reverent words of adoration against his lips between kisses, he could tell that not far behind her giddy happiness was overwhelming, justified, body-encompassing exhaustion. Even though to him she’d always be nothing but a striking beauty, he could not ignore the mat of her hair or the grime on her skin or the deeply entrenched purple rings under her jade green eyes. She’d been so hellbent (literally) on rescuing him, and then so determined to fix the Henry situation, that she’d had no time whatsoever to take care of any of her own needs. The mere act of attempting to figure out when she’d last rested peacefully made him nauseous. It was his job to ensure her safety, comfort, and well-being, and for what seemed like the past forever, he’d failed to do his duty.
But that failure was going to end. Today.
After carefully placing Emma back on her feet, her fingers still curled tightly around his lapels, Killian raised his hand to cup her cheek, swiping his thumb gracefully across one of those horrid purple semi-circles. “Alright, darling,” he began, in that soothing tone he reserved only for her, “I think it’s high time you use that lovely magic of yours to transport us to your home, aye?”
She beamed at him, curling one of her hands over his fingers that still lay against her cheek. “I think you mean our home,” she whispered, the tiniest hint of nervousness in her voice. “Or at least…I hope that’s what you mean.”
Another smile broke across the pirate’s face, and he had to fight damn hard to stop himself from kissing her senseless again. “Of course, love. Take us home, Emma.”
Let the Lightning Guide You (1/1)
Summary: On a warm evening on the back porch of their home, Killian and Emma catch fireflies together, for the first time. Post S5.
Rated: K
Warnings: None
Words: ~3.3k
Notes: For @nothingimpossibleonlyimprobable, who misses fireflies. CS with a side order of Captain Cobra Swan. Title borrowed from the lyrics of this song.
“It’s Wednesday, right, love?”
Emma very nearly startles, captivated as she is by counting
the stars as they peek out from behind the clouds. It had rained all morning, and had been
cloudy all afternoon. It was the warm
sort of rain that follows on the tail of early summer, haze creeping up off the
blacktop, heat clinging stubbornly to the curtains, to the car, to damn near
every surface in the house.
cshappybeginning 