P: Emma X Killian - Tumblr Posts
the gift of gab, the gift of you
Here it is @thisonesatellite! your 2020 CS Secret Santa gift. It was a complete and total delight to get to be your gift giver this year. That is not hyperbole - you are a gosh dang delight! Each of your message responses left me in stitches and while I will NEVER try and convince you a movie you think is bunk is good, I am delighted at the opportunity to recommend rom coms that don’t make you want to gouge your eyes out.
This fic is heavily inspired by your love of coffee shops AUs (except…you know, a pub), your travel stories (which I shamelessly incorporated into the fic) and I believe rates about a 4 on the reindeer scale of Christmas cheer. You’re a total eagle eye, so I just need to say I am well aware that Colin O’Donoghue’s accent in no way resembles an accent from Cork, but I just need that to be ignored, please and thank you.
Also, I’ve decided we’re fandom friends now. Okay? Okay! Finally, thank you to @cssecretsanta2020 for organizing this exchange and being the actual best and most patient fandom soul.
*** Title: the gift of gab, the gift of you
Summary: Emma needs an Irish man. Wait! No! It’s not what it sounds like. And then the universe just has to go and provide her with the world’s chattiest, flirtiest, blue-eyesiest Irish man in existence.
Available on AO3. ***
Emma is in no position to complain. From where she sits both literally – (perched upon a comfy barstool in the world’s coziest pub) – as well as existentially – (traveling abroad for the first time in her life) — she is fortunate and blessed.
It’s just –
It’s just it would be easier to enjoy it all if she didn’t have to deal with a rather annoying request from her rather annoyingly persistent mother.
Her headphones are in but Emma still takes great care to speak in hushed tones over video chat. There’s nothing she wants less than to be the loud American who shares her private conversation with an entire establishment. The pub she found is at the end of a quiet lane off of Cork’s high street. The customers within the pub appear to be locals well known by the staff who tend the pub. In truth, she wouldn’t even be having this conversation if it wasn’t for —
“Who have you talked to today?” her mother asks.
“Uh, I’m pretty sure I thanked the barista who made my coffee. And I ordered a pint in this pub.”
“That’s not talking.”
“It is by definition talking.”
“That’s not what I meant. How else are you going to get to know the city?” Her mom interrupts before Emma can properly formulate a snarky reply. “And don’t you dare say ‘guidebooks.’ Your father and I raised you better than that.”
“Mom, please don’t make me do this.”
Keep reading
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Hope that I do this properly 🙃
I would adore a XO between Veronica Mars (LoVe) & Once Upon a Time (C/S).
PROMPT: "I’m really competitive and drunk and I just told a rival that my relationship is way better than theirs, but they don’t believe you exist (but I’m too stubborn to admit they’re right)" OR really anything you'd like. Honestly, I'm dying to see Logan and Killian interact/co-swagger.
And / or another installment of "Come Rain or Come Shine" from In Lovers Meeting because I love it with my whole ❤️.
Thank you so much for doing this. You made my day,
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Oh @jjmazzy you bring my heart so much joy! I didn’t feel quite up to the task to do a crossover between OUaT and Veronica Mars so I went straight for a OUaT AU. I hope that’s okay?
This is just a silly little thing that I am realizing only fulfills about 40% of the prompt, but I think it’s cute??
ANYWAY! Enough hemming and hawing xx *** Title: Of Expats and Onion Rings Rating: PG Fandom: Once Upon a Time Pairing: Killian Jones/Emma Swan (mentions of Robin/Marian and a smattering of other characters) Additional Tags: Two out of three of my OUaT fics feature Killian as a bartender, silliness and only half a prompt, probably way more fluff than is medically recommended Word Count: 1,500
Every Friday night, Emma Swan sits on the same barstool at the same bar in the same restaurant. This Friday night has her staring into space as she lets the sounds from the kitchen and the bar swirl around her. It’s busier than usual, with almost all the booths and tables filled and the bar area half-occupied. In fact, when she first walked into the bar, she worried there wouldn’t be a seat for her. But the bartender caught her eye and waved her over, a menu and a glass of water waiting for her in her usual seat at the end of the bar.
Said bartender slides her an Old Fashioned, extra maraschino cherries on the toothpick per usual.
She takes a small sip of the drink. “Why is it so busy?”
Killian’s eyes roam about the room and then come back to rest on her. “Some magazine labeled us the best kept secret in Portland, Maine.”
“And in doing so—”
“Assured that we would never be a secret again. Yes.”
“The pitfalls of fame.”
“Burger or chicken sandwich?”
“Burger. Any chance—?”
“Aye, probably a very good chance, but only because Graham is sweet on you.”
Emma feels her cheeks redden. “He’s not sweet on me.”
“Sure he isn’t.”
She watches Killian step away from the bar and into the kitchen to talk to Graham. How Graham can manage to listen to anything given the noise of the dining room and the kitchen she’ll never know. Graham and Killian both look over at her. Graham rolls his eyes but nods, and Emma raises her glass in thanks.
“Okay,” she says to Killian when he’s back at the bar. “He might be a little sweet on me.” She takes a long sip of her cocktail.
Killian’s brow is knit with concentration. “Long day?”
She nods. “I had a run in with Zelena.”
“Ah. The wicked witch of the northeast. What’d she do this time?” The ticket printer next to Killian’s till spits out a long drink order, but he listens even as he mixes drink and pours glasses of wine.
“She got engaged over the weekend and hasn’t shut up about it. And today, she took great pains to ask me, in front of everyone in the faculty lounge, if I’d be okay if she didn’t give me a plus one.”
“Bit rude, isn’t it?”
“Right? But then she kept going on and on asking how long it’d been since I dated someone, and did I know that after 35, forty-five percent of women’s eggs are considered genetically abnormal and her fiancé is a very wealthy furniture manufacturer and she’s certain he has some less attractive less wealthy friends he could introduce me to and on and on and on.”
“Does she truly want you at her wedding?”
“Oh, yes. She said she wouldn’t take no for an answer.” She runs her finger along the condensation of her glass. “Which is when I did something very very very stupid.”
“Smacked her?”
Emma snorts. “I wish. No I—” Her explanation is interrupted by the arrival of her burger and the plate of special order onion rings. Onion rings which are technically available only as an add-on to the steak sandwich but that Emma has a 80% success rate of cajoling the kitchen to make her a plate of.
She eats her meal with one eye turned to Killian, waiting for a long enough lull in the drink tickets to finish her story. She’s almost finished her burger when Killian slides another Old Fashioned in front of her.
“What was this very stupid thing you did?” he asks, leaning towards her.
“I told her I was dating someone.”
Killian remains where he is but she notices the clench of his jaw. “Ah,” he says. “I was unaware.” He seems to hear his own words as he says them because he cringes. “Not that there’s a reason you would tell me. I mean, we’re friends, but friends in that way that I get you drinks and —”
Emma rests a hand on Kilian’s to stop the rambling. “I’m not. Dating anyone, that is.”
“Then why—?”
“It just popped out. I’m not sure who was more surprised, me or Zelena.”
“So, this fake boyfriend of yours. Just who is he?”
“Well, okay, so this makes sense when you remember it’s Friday, and I knew I’d be coming here.”
“Right,” he says, equal parts cautious and curious.
“I told her my boyfriend was British.”
Killian shakes his head.
ExPats has been her weekly haunt for close to a year now and while not everyone who works there is a British expatriate, with Killian as bar manager, Robin as front of house manager, Graham as chef de cuisine, and Phillip as pastry chef, it kind of feels that way.
“And that he had blue eyes,” she continues.
“Ah, I see,” he says, teasing her. “Are you telling me you’re sweet on Graham too?”
“Not Graham.”
“In that case, Marian is likely going to have a big problem with you trying to date her husband.”
“And, uh,” she clears her throat, “I told Zelena he has dark hair.”
Killian wings an eyebrow. “How dark?”
“Uh, right about your color probably.”
“My color?”
“Probably. I said probably.”
“Interesting.” Emma takes a sip of her drink. There’s a delicious, hazy feeling brought on from the second cocktail washing through her veins. “So, you and I are dating?” he asks.
“Stupid. It was so stupid.”
“I wouldn’t say that. I mean, I’ve been meaning to ask you out for months now. This might be just the little push I need.”
“What?”
“What?”
“What did you just say?”
“What now?” he asks in return, the picture of innocence.
“You’ve been trying to ask me out?”
“Not as such, no.”
“Oh.” She sinks back in her seat, disappointed.
“I didn’t want to risk you running scared and not being here every Friday night.”
Emma perks right back up again. “Oh?”
“You already said that, love.”
Emma looked down at her plate, the remnants of the crispy bits from her onion rings on her plate. Something occurs to her then. “Graham doesn’t give these to me because I want them. Does he?”
“Excuse me?”
If she’s not mistaken the tips of his ears have gone a little red. She loves his little elf ears. “He makes these for me because you ask him. Don’t you?”
“I might have told him they bring you an inordinate amount of joy.” He scratches idly at a spot on his arm. “And that it brings me an inordinate amount of joy to see how happy they make you.”
“Did you know my weekly ExPats date used to be on Wednesdays?”
She can see him try to mentally adjust to the change of direction in the conversation. “Really?”
“I only came in a few times, but then one week, I had parent/teacher conferences so I came on Friday. And there you were.” Emma shrugs. “Your Old Fashioned is better than Will’s.” She bites off one of the maraschino cherries from the toothpick. “Your smile is better, too.”
“Emma, darling, are you flirting with me?”
“What? Suddenly it’s a crime to flirt with my boyfriend?”
Killian laughs and it makes her heart hum. She likes the clean line of his throat as he tilts his head back. “Your boyfriend? I don’t suppose you’d want to go out on a date with, then?”
“I’m free on Wednesday.”
“Funny that,” he says. “That happens to be my day off.”
“Is it?”
Emma would be content to sit at this bar all night and let Killian smile at her and make her drinks. It seems like Killian is having similar thoughts, until something seemingly flies out of nowhere to hit him in the back of the head.
Killian reels around to find Robin standing there, arms folded across his chest.
“What’d you throw at me, you git?” Killian asks.
“A dinner roll.” Robin gestures at the drink ticket printer. A ticket printer which has at least 10-tickets waiting to be fulfilled. “Pardon, Emma. Mind if he stops flirting with you long enough to fulfill the drink orders?”
“You’re fired,” Killian says.
“For the last time, mate, you can’t fire me. My name is on the lease right next to yours.”
“Murder it is, then.”
“Make the nice customers their cocktails and then you can murder me.”
Robin walks away, and Emma notices it’s not just her at the bar who finds herself charmed by the whole display between the two men. She thinks she might see a small group of women sneakily taking a cell phone video, giggling as they watch it through.
“Emma, I’m sorry, but I—”
She waves him off. “Do your thing. I’ll be here.”
“Yeah?” he asks, and when she nods, he beams. “Good, because if we’re in a committed relationship I’m probably going to need your phone number.”
“Pour the drinks, you goon.”