You can vent, anon, no worries! But you know what? I just roll my eyes at all of that nonsense and think about how Killian likes to tickle Hope’s chubby lil feet cuz it makes her squeal and laugh and coo and kick at him, and sometimes, when the silver of his rings catch the light, her hands try to grasp onto his fingers. :)))
A/N: This showed up on my dash and since you all know I am a helpless soul when it comes to Daddy Killian, I dropped everything to write about it:
My Love, I’m in Love With You
.
.
They name her Eva Ruth, after Swan’s grandmothers. Eva Ruth Jones — 6 lbs, 8 oz, 21 inches long — born just a day after his birthday, arrived screeching like a bloody banshee after a rather intense (and nerve-wracking) 36-hour labor. She’s a thief straight away, steals his heart (much like her mother had) and makes him fall for her head over feet, the moment he sets his eyes on her squirming, pink, tiny form. Her hair is dark, lashes long, cheeks dimpled and she is utter perfection. When he holds her for the first time, right in the crook of his left elbow, his eyes full of unshed tears and chest aching fiercely, he thinks that he couldn’t possibly love her more than he does right then.
He’s wrong of course.
She surprises him when she’s five — a blue-eyed, blonde-haired (she’d outgrown the dark around age three) child full of adventure and sass (though he’ll swear to his grave that he has no clue where she could have gotten that particular trait from), who remains as stubborn as her mother. They’re baking cookies (well, placing Snow’s pre-rolled balls of chocolate chip dough on a metal sheet), when she gives him a very serious look from where she’s sitting beside him on a stool.
“Daddy?”
He keeps his smile to himself, doesn’t think she’ll appreciate the way he finds her so adorable with that wee furrow between her brows (the same way Emma’s get when she’s something on her mind).
“Aye, Cygnet?” He says the nickname with much affection.
I meant to spend the last couple days taking a few more passes through Chapter 9 of The Long Way Home before it comes out this Wednesday (and I still will, I promise), but after Friday’s episode and Captain Swan’s happy ending, I just had to get this out of my brain and on to paper (so to speak) first. Be warned: parenthood feels ahead.
This is dedicated to my dear @kmomof4, one of the nicest and most supportive readers and friends a fic writer could ask for. Happiest of happy birthdays to you, my friend. Thank you for all your love and kindness.
Summary: Killian’s first thoughts on fatherhood inspire a name for his little girl. Headcanon and fluffy, fluffy drabble. (Captain Swan. Canon Compliant. Fluff. Rated G.)
She comes into the world squalling – squashy and red-faced, with eyes pressed firmly shut beneath a pair of puffy lids, a misshapen head Dr. Whale insists will get better, and flailing, trembling limbs that end in ten tiny fingers and ten tiny toes. And, aside from her mother, she’s the most beautiful thing Killian Jones has ever seen.
The day she’s born is a strange patchwork of time, everything flying by in a blur while individual moments almost seem to stand still. Like the moment he first lays eyes on her at the foot of the bed in Whale’s hands. Like the moment Emma first gets a glimpse of her and glances at him with a look of tearful awe and elated disbelief at what they’ve created. Like the moment the nurse finishes all the necessary measuring and poking and prodding and finally hands him his daughter in a small and wriggly bundle. David has been known to say that life is made up of moments. Later, whenever Killian looks back on this day, it always strikes him that he may never have truly understood what that meant – what that felt like – until now.
Flufflet #6 for @lifeinahole27 as a reward for writing her CSBB!
Continuation of flufflets #3 and #5.
Artwork at the end is by @clockadile, who is amazinggggggggggg
There were almost too many resources, Killian thought, as he typed in another phrase to look up. There were the doctors and nurses at the clinic Swan insisted on going to; it was out of town, since she refused to permit Whale to, as she put it so eloquently, “go anywhere near my goddamn vagina.”
There were the books, both the old ones in the library and the newer ones that Emma purchased through the post. He read all of them, although he did think Emma had the right idea with the newer ones; perhaps after the baby was born, they could donate the books to the library.
And then, of course, there was the Google. It was a double-edged sword if he’d ever seen one, with more information than he’d ever thought could possibly exist. But it seemed nigh impossible to determine just which information was accurate, and all of the personal testimonials made everything even murkier.
“What are you looking up?” Swan asked from the couch.
“When the baby can hear,” he said. “I’m getting too many different answers.”
“Yeah?”
“Some Google tells me–”
“Some websites, Killian.”
“Well, some tell me that it could be as early as eighteen weeks, and some say as late as twenty-four.”
“Okay.”
“Do you know which is correct?”
“No. Why, though?”
“Well … just that if she can hear us, then maybe we should take advantage of that.”
He loved that he could say that: she. It was only a week ago that they’d gone to the clinic, and the doctor had told them that they were having a daughter. It was nearly mind-boggling that the technology of the realm made it possible to know so much about an unborn child.
Hell, it was incredible just how much there was to know about a pregnancy in general. In the Enchanted Forest, a single missed monthly cycle was troubling but not necessarily an indication of pregnancy; it was typically only a second skipped cycle that tipped a woman off. But here? Here, Emma simply waited until her cycle was a day or two late, and then she (he still felt uncomfortable about this) urinated on a strange stick, and it informed them both that she was with child.
And he’d seen their child. The near-magic of the ultrasound machine meant that they both had been able to watch their daughter grow from a tiny little bean-shaped smudge into something resembling an actual human. And now, they knew they were having a beautiful baby girl.
His daughter. He was going to have a daughter.
“Killian, did you hear anything I just said, or are you not at 18 weeks yet?”
“Sorry, what?” He’d been so lost in his thoughts, he’d missed whatever Swan had said.
“Do you want to sing to her?”
“Would you be all right with that?”
She laughed. “Um, very. Besides, isn’t that the exact reason I’m pregnant?”
“Well, I’d like to think it would have happened anyway, regardless. But fair enough.”
“C’mere.”
He stood from the computer desk and headed to the couch; Swan had been lying down with her feet up, but she swung them around and sat up a bit. “All right, go for it, Daddy.” She patted the space next to her.
He sat beside her and then leaned forward. She wasn’t showing very much, but enough that the townsfolk were catching on. Emma had always been extremely slim, and so the way her stomach was beginning to protrude was an easy giveaway that she was either pregnant, or she was overindulging significantly and gaining weight in very strangely specific places.
His favorite thing about her stomach, what she called her “baby bump,” was that this was their child. Right here, taking up space, growing and becoming a child.
“Go for it,” Emma encouraged.
“Right.” He cleared his throat. “Hello, my love. This is your papa.” Bloody hell, he was going to be a father. Neither Bae nor Henry could have ever prepared him for this. “Your momma asked me to sing to you.” He looked up at said momma. “Are you sure about this?”
“She’s gotta learn about revenge sometime,” she joked.
Perhaps. But he balked at the idea that the first song he would sing to his daughter would be one of anger and sadness. He had a better idea.
“Tomorrow is uncertain,” he sang. “Who knows what it will bring?”
He looked up to find Emma staring down at him in wonder, and although he knew her emotions were a bit out of control (he’d done a lot of reading about hormones), he was still surprised to see that she had tears in her eyes.
“But one thing is for sure, love,” she continued. “With you, I have everything.”
He grinned and turned back to her stomach, and they sang together.
“And happily ever after is the way these stories go …”
An unashamedly Daddy!Killian fic, ~1750 words, rated G: Emma and Killian’s daughter learns that her father died, and has some questions.
I know, Sunday morning is the worst time to post fic. And this is more suitable for Father’s Day than Mother’s Day. But I figured I’d fling this fic out into the world before the existence of Maureen Swan-Jones gets jossed in canon. Also figuring anyone on tumblr today probably needs some CS happy ending stuff in their lives right about now.
The first sign that something was wrong was the way Maureen launched herself into Killian’s arms when he picked her up from school. Not that she wasn’t an affectionate child, she was, but she was usually too distracted by tales of her day in first grade to concern herself with things like hugs for her father. She would skip down the street half a block ahead of him as he walked her home, pausing every now and then to tell him about a happening at school or to pepper him with questions. But today, she walked quietly at his side, her hand holding tightly to his.
The second sign was when he opened her lunch box to find most of her lunch uneaten, her ham sandwich flattened, but otherwise untouched.
“Maureen, why don’t you come here and eat the sandwich you didn’t eat for lunch, hmm?”
She looked up from where she was sprawled out on the living room floor, drawing a picture. “Not hungry, Daddy.”
He approached her. “But you barely ate anything today.”
She shrugged, not meeting his eyes.
Kneeling down, Killian pressed his hand against her forehead. “Are you feeling unwell?”
“No, Daddy.” There was a slight tremble in her voice, and it set off alarm bells for Killian. Maureen could be a surprisingly guarded child when something was worrying her; she was very like her mother in that way.
lol anons y’all betta stop giving me prompts that i like or else i’m never gonna finish the fics i’m supposed to be writing hahahah
~500 words
It’s three in the morning and Emma is so tired. Maggie’s crying, again, as babies tend to do, and Emma is trying really hard to get up, really. But her body is just so damn heavy, and she feels like she hasn’t had a decent night’s rest since they brought her home three weeks prior.
She hopes that her daughter’s wails will quiet on their own so she doesn’t have to move. It is her turn, after all, since Killian soothed her to sleep two hours ago.
But the seconds tick by and the longer she lies there, the guiltier she feels. She just wants to be selfish for one night, just this one night. It’s not that she doesn’t love Maggie more than life itself, or that she wishes to ignore her. She just needs sleep, more than she can ever remember needing sleep.
The bed shifts beside her and she hears the rough timbre of Killian’s voice, thick with exhaustion, and his words make her want to sob with relief.
“I’ll get her, love. Sleep.”
She can’t even manage to respond with any sense, just an almost whimper of an agreement. He kisses her head, lips buried in her hair for the briefest of moments, and then he leaves. She misses his warmth already but she can’t even open her eyes.
Maggie’s hysterical sobs seem to ease up as soon as Killian enters her nursery. She can hear through the baby monitor the way he calms her with words of reassurance. He is probably holding her right against his chest and rocking her from side to side. That’s one of his favorite things to do.
The cries get quieter and quieter, loud hiccups still punctuating her breaths, but only cease when Killian’s voice lilts out softly, soothingly, in a melodic lullaby. Maggie becomes silent. Moisture pricks behind Emma’s eyelids.
Emma has no doubt that she’s staring up at her father in wonder, mesmerized by his song, finally feeling safe and warm and loved. She feels guilty once again for not going to her first.
His voice fades as if someone has lowered the volume on the baby monitor, then grows stronger again, but this time it’s sharper and clearer than before. She realizes as the floorboards creak that he’s returned to their room, definitely with Maggie in his arms, and he’s still singing the low, steady tune.
The bed bows under the weight of him when he slips back under the covers and Emma peels her eyes open just long enough to blearily take in the image of Killian lying on his back and Maggie sprawled on his chest, her eyes shut.
Emma scoots closer and Killian’s arm automatically comes around her. She moves so her head is on his shoulder, and she brushes a kiss on Maggie’s forehead. All the while, Killian continues to sing.
The lullaby is just as much for her as for their daughter, she thinks, just before she slips back into her dreams.
The Muse wants more baby Evelyn and she shall have it. Unedited and fluff filled.
Baby Mine, Part II
Rating – G
“How is she?” Emma calls over her shoulder, hands raised and magic sparking white along her fingertips. Killian stands behind her, baby girl in the crook of one arm, his hooked arm held at the ready.
“The lass is fast asleep,” he chuckles behind Emma and she rolls her eyes. She’d never been one to sleep through much as a child, always on the ready for any danger to her small self, but Evie, oh no…it’s like she’d inherited her grandparents sleeping curse – she can sleep through anything. Including giant trolls like the one currently harassing Storybrooke.
I don’t know what this is…I appear to have babies on the brain.
Baby Mine
Rating – G
Emma loves to sleep in, but ever since the baby was born, her days of being able to do so are few and far between. Killian is a tremendous help, but pre-dawn feedings are nothing he can really help with, at least not until she stops breastfeeding.
The first few months were easy. They kept a bassinet in their room for the little one and when she cried, Emma would pick the baby up and then settle in the large armchair they’d moved into their room, right next to the windows. Mother and daughter would welcome the sun together, Emma listening to the sounds of Killian’s soft snore from their bed while she held the warm bundle of her daughter close to her heart.
Just a quick fluffy dabble that popped in my head…
~~~
“Do you ever regret it?”
David asked out of breath as they both collapsed on Killian’s couch after a
hard fought battle with a nasty beast that currently roamed Storybrooke.
He didn’t have to ask what he meant…he knew he was talking
about the choice he made a few years back. The choice that had him now
wincing in pain as he touched his sensitive ribs…the little fucker threw him hard against a parked car when he was trying to distract it. “And miss
all this fun?”
David snorted before picking
up the bottle of the much deserved beer he fished out of their refrigerator and
taking a long swig. “I’m serious,” he
repeated after a moment, watching Killian wince as he took his own sip of
beer. “Do you ever wonder what would
have happened if…”
“I
did step into the light with my brother?”
David
gave a nod. “Yeah.”
“Aye,”
he finally said as he leaned over to put down his beer. “I do, mate…I wonder if I’d be nearly as
happy as I am now.”
David
lifted a brow. “You don’t think you
would be?”
Killian
opened his mouth to answer, but a pitter patter of little feet and a joyous
laughter interrupted him. He turned and
smiled when he saw his princess….his little girl with her raven black hair and
sea green eyes rushing towards him. He
split the cut on his lip when he grinned, holding out his arms and winced out a
laugh when her body slammed into his aching ribs. But he didn’t care…his little miracle was in
his arms. “There’s my lass!”
Emma
gave him a soft smile. “She needed to
make sure her daddy was okay,” she said as she went to her own daddy so she
could heal him.
“I’m
just fine, love,” he said as rubbed her small back with his hand. “Just fine.”
Hope leaned back and gave a little pout as she
touched the cut on his lip. “Hurt.”
“A
bit…maybe if you give me a kiss it’ll be all better.”
She
leaned forward and ever so gently, ever so sweetly she touched her small
delicate lips to his cut, completely warming his heart. “Much better,” he said as he tucked her chin
with the curve of his hook, causing her to giggle.
“Do
you want to help me heal your Daddy?” Emma asked as she left her now healed
father to join them on the couch. When her
little girl nodded with excitement, she smiled as she covered her hand with
hers and placed her tiny hand over Killian’s ribs….she knew that’s where he
ached the most. “Now, remember how I
taught you…think about your daddy and how much you love him….let that feeling
go through you, okay?”
Killian
watched her little brows furrowed in complete concentration as she nodded, closing
her eyes as she let Emma guide her hand to his aches and pains. His heart was full as she watched the glow
between their hands shine and felt the warmth spread throughout his own body as
the pain slowly eased away until it was completely gone.
When he
was fully healed and the light faded, she opened her eyes and grinned at him
with a proud look in her eyes. “Well
done, love,” he said, smiling when she leaned down to sprawl across his chest,
nuzzling her little cheek against his chest, fiddling with his necklace with
her tiny fingers.
He
then looked over at Emma, reaching for her as he pulled her down for a kiss
before she settled next to him. He sighed,
lifting his arm so she could tuck safely at his side and then looked over at
David, who was watching him with a grin.
“No
mate,” he finally said as he brushed his lips against his wife’s hair. “Not nearly as happy.”
cshappybeginning 