A/N: After this, I had to.
“What are we, Emma?” he quietly asked, notes of exasperation threading his voice.
She froze, blinking in surprise at the directness of his question.
Ever since they had returned from the past— since she found out that he had given up everything for her— they had stood on this precipice, both silently toing the line, neither wanting to make the first move. So much—too much—was unspoken between them. He was always with her, and she was always with him. They had a…thing. But the elephant in the room was growing larger with each passing day, with each new dangerous situation they fought through together. Feelings threatened to pour out, ones that she was nowhere near ready to fully face. But it was getting harder and harder to keep them on a leash, to keep them tamped down. She rounded on him.
“I don’t know what you want me to say, Hook! We’re friends! You’re my…” she sputtered, hands flapping helplessly.
“I’m your what?” he pushed.
“I don’t know! Friend! You’re my…boy…friend.”
“I am no boy, Swan.”
“Yes, I mean, no. I know. I—”
“I’m a man grown, and don’t you forget it,” he growled.
“Killian. I just meant that you’re different than a regular friend. More.”
“And that is signified by calling me a young lad?”
“No,” she couldn’t stop the smile at his outrage over this idea. “Boyfriend is just a term used here when two people are…dating. Um, courting,” she amended when sensing his confusion.
It took a second, then a smug grin settled on his face and he stepped closer, invading her space and pressing her gently against the wall. Reaching up, he skimmed his hand lightly across her collar bone, moving to lightly twist and play with the golden curls that lay upon it.
“Ah, so we’re courting are we?”
Emma rolled her eyes and tried to ignore the trail of sparks his teasing touch was leaving across her skin.
“Keep it up, and we won’t be for long,” she muttered. “But be warned, I’m no good at this stuff. This boyfriend stuff. Err, I mean, manfriend. Oh god, that sounds even weirder.”
“Swan. As long as I’m yours, I am quite happy to live with whatever moniker you care to call me.”
She took a deep breath, and then a second, waiting for the familiar panic to set in. When it didn’t, she finally looked up at him. His eyes danced into hers, bright and blue and just a little vulnerable. He was waiting, giving her the choice and power as he always did. Emma smiled.
trapped in a bank during a robbery au, because why not? absolutely not my idea, though. found it in a writing meme thing i forgot to reblog and now don’t know where to find!
She fights the urge to roll her eyes as the customer in front of her insists on getting yet another statement from her account, like the old lady hasn’t already gotten three, ‘just in case’ as she had said in that cute old lady voice that made it impossible for the man behind the counter to refuse.
But still. Emma has the right to be thoroughly annoyed since it’s now way past her lunch break and David – her co-worker – will probably kick her ass for not getting back sooner. He had even specifically told her he wanted to leave early that day, to get home to his wife and new baby. Emma had crossed her heart she would move quicker than lightning speed.
That is until she ended up behind the elderly lady that could barely move, and seemed to have a ridiculous fondness for banks and everything in them (‘oh, would you look at that wonderful marble’, ‘that is a beautiful clock’ were some of the things Emma had had to listen to for fifty minutes).
Word Count: 1,314
Pairing: Captain Swan
Rating: T, implied smut, but nothing explicitly described
He’s spent so long chasing her, hoping and wishing and praying to every deity out there that he might one day hold her in his arms and have her look at him with the same emotion that paints every corner of his soul. He’s spent so long imagining the day she might feel for him a fraction of what he feels for her that when it does come, he’s not sure if it’s real.
Her lips are warm and soft against his, moving and parting with tenderness. Her hand hands are running through his hair, and up his arms, as if she is desperate to feel that he’s real.
(They’re both having trouble separating reality from a dream)
And yet, despite the way she moves closer and closer still to his leather clad form, he does little more than run a tentative hand through her loose locks of gold and loosely cup the back of her head for a few short seconds. He dares not move his hand lower, or closer, for fear that if he does, she’ll evaporate, like the dreams of his year without her.
Prompt: A CaptainSwan Family AU? Like they have a daughter who has a crush and Killian gets all protective? Just fluff galore!
I’ve been terrible about answering these in a timely manner as I know you’ve also been waiting forever… GAHHHH I’m sorry rambling-fangirl-13 for making you wait like two weeks. I’ve just been kinda down on my writing recently; but I’ve decided that you are more important than my own issues lol so without further ado I am going to do my absolute best to make it something worth the wait for you…..
"Momma!" Melody called as she raced through the apartment, crashing into Emma’s legs, laughter bubbling from her.
"Hi baby, how was school?" Emma asked picking her up, moving so that Melody was resting on her hip. She ran her fingers through Melody’s curls softly; smiling unintentionally at the crooked, toothless grin she was getting in response- one that had definitely been inherited from Killian.
"What has you all giddy?" Emma asked her fingers moving from her hair, flittering over her rib cage lightly, causing her to erupt in loud laughter at the sensation. She squirmed from her mother’s grasp and skipped off just as Killian entered the kitchen grumbling. He seemed to watch her go, before continuing to mumble under his breath.
“Want to share with the class?” Emma teased as she moved, wrapping her arms around his waist and tucking her head underneath his chin, folding herself into his arms. She smiled as she took a deep breath, once again filling her lungs with the aroma that was her pirate- salty sea air and leather.
“Our daughter fancies some lad from her class,” He finally mumbled, burying his face into her hair and sighing loudly in exasperation. Emma could only laugh.
She had known this day was going to come, as Melody was getting to the age where boys were starting to loose their cooties, becoming more than friends to tease. From the moment Melody had been born, Emma knew this wouldn’t be an easy time for Killian- after all Melody had always been a daddy’s girl.
"And that’s a bad thing?" Emma hedged, backing up to look at him. This was the first time that they would have to cross this bridge- and it was doubtfully the last. It would be best to try and calm him down when she was younger, rather than letting it escalate to a point where Killian would force her suitor to walk the plank (something she wouldn’t put past him).
"Of course it is Swan, I’m a man I know exactly what foul things are going through their minds. I will not stand for someone thinking of my princess in that manner," He sneered, pulling her back into an embrace- something that seemingly soothed him minutely.
"Killian they’re six. I doubt you have to worry about those thoughts just yet. As for right now I think your biggest worry is them wanting to hold her hand," Emma told him with a light laugh. He simply groaned, holding her even tighter and burying his face deeper into her neck.
"But I will at some point. What happens when she doesn’t need us anymore? Love, how am I going to survive this? " Killian groaned again, his breath fanning out lightly against her neck. She simply smiled, her hand coming up to run lightly through his hair, her fingers playing in his unruly locks.
"The best way you can. You will support her, and help her make the right decisions. But above all you will let her live her life, and make her own mistakes. That’s how she will learn. She will always have us to help her find her way back. but she has to be able to venture out on her own. You’re going to have to let her grow up- boys included," Emma told him, her fingers brushing lightly against the nape of his neck as she felt him nuzzle his scruff lightly against her skin.
"And we have each other, to try and get through the chaos of her being a teenager," Emma told him, getting a laugh out of him. He finally lifted his head, his azure eyes, meeting her olive ones, and with a resigned smile he nodded.
"You’re right love."
"Don’t forget it," She told him with a laugh, pulling him down to place a light kiss against his lips, her hand cupping his cheek, thumb moving lightly over his slight stubble.
"Daddy, you said you’d play with me!" Melody called from the living room, interrupting the shared moment.
"And you were worried she wouldn’t need you. Every girl needs her daddy," Emma told him with a small smile, giving him one last chaste kiss, before she pushed him in the direction of their daughter. With a shake of her head, she left the two to their game, the distress of earlier momentarily forgotten.
So yeah there it is…. I’m really hoping it will do your prompt some justice and that you enjoyed!
It was late when Emma drove her yellow bug back into Storybrooke a few days after she’d made her decision to return. As much as both she and Henry had wanted to leave at that very moment, there were important things such as her job and the apartment’s lease that had needed sorting out before they could depart New York for good.
But that was all behind them now and as they got out of her car, Emma glanced around at the familiar buildings and finally felt a sense of peace that had evaded her ever since she’d left. She’d been right. She was home.
Looking over at Henry, she saw the huge smile that lit up his face and realised that it had been quite a while since she’d seen him look that happy. Immediately she regretted not returning sooner. Hell, she regretted leaving if she was being really honest with herself, which was what she planned to be from now on. No more hiding behind fears and doubts. She’d managed to take this big step in her life and she wasn’t about to stop now. She was going to be all in…with everyone.
With a warm smile she put her arm around Henry’s shoulders then they crossed the quiet road and headed for her parents loft. The lights from Granny’s diner twinkled in the distance and she briefly wondered if Killian was there or, what was more likely, down at The Rabbit Hole. Once she’d seen her parent’s she was going to find out she’d decided on the trip down.
She and Henry entered Snow and David’s building then climbed the stairs to their apartment. Emma felt her trepidation build with every step, her palms becoming moist at the thought of facing them, unsure of her welcome after her behaviour. They reached the door and she raised her hand to knock then hesitated.
"It’ll be okay, Mom,” Henry assured her with a smile. “You know they love you.”
Emma gave him a brief smile in return then nodded and took a steadying breath. Mindful of the hour and possibly disturbing her baby brother, she knocked softly on the door.
“Maybe they’re asleep,” she murmured when there was no reply after a few moments but then the sound of footfall could be heard and she drew in a sharp breath as the door flew open to reveal David standing there with a slight frown.
He stared at them both for a second as if unable to comprehend what he was seeing then an expression of utter shock spread across his face.
“Hi Dad,” she ventured with a nervous smile.
Seconds later she was engulfed in his warm embrace, hand cupping the back of her head as he hugged her tightly.
“Emma,” he choked out.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, holding him back just as fiercely and squeezing her eyes shut to try and stop the tears that were gathering there from falling. She’d missed him so much.
“Shh, it’s okay,” he soothed emotionally before loosening his grip a moment so that his grandson could join them both.
“David, who was it?” came Snow’s voice suddenly.
Emma jerked back from her father and Henry and saw her mother standing a few feet away with a look of shocked bemusement.
“Mom,” she said with a tremulous smile as she rushed over to her.
“Emma,” Snow gasped before flinging her arms open and gathering her close. “Oh, it’s so good to see you, sweetheart.”
“It’s good to be home,” her daughter replied, tears now beginning to run unchecked down her cheeks.
Snow pulled back to look at her incredulously.
“Do you really mean that?” she asked uncertainly trying to hold back her own tears of joy.
Emma quickly nodded her head, guilt colouring her tone as she admitted brokenly, “I should never have left. I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m so sorry.”
“You’re here now and you’re staying, that’s all that matters,” she told her with a watery smile.
Emma swallowed hard and dashed away her tears as she tried to smile back at her. Even though she knew of her parent’s capacity for love and forgiveness, she still couldn’t quite believe how wonderful they were being. She was so unused to anyone caring for her that much but she was finally beginning to learn. Naturally it was the hard way because she knew her life and her own protective walls wouldn’t let it be any other way, but she was learning nonetheless.
Fandom: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Warnings: Author Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Emma Swan
Characters: Captain Hook | Killian Jones, Emma Swan, Background & Cameo Characters
Additional Tags: First Time, Smut, Porn With Plot
Following the end of 3B, Emma and Killian are together, but she’s noticed that he’s stopped pursuing her the way he used to. When his reticence becomes too much, Emma has no choice but to ask him about it.
Summary: Emma is a contestant on MasterChef. Killian is the celebrity chef who comes in to mentor for a week. It turns out they have far more in common than they ever expected.
A/N: Possibly the stupidest thing I’ve ever written? Haha
If she was being completely honest, Emma entered MasterChef for the express purpose of pissing off Neal.
Killian Jones or - how to look at Emma Swan as if she was the very sun
It staggers her still sometimes when she catches him looking at her, backs the very breath up into her lungs and makes her stomach clench and her heart ache just a bit. It’s unnerving the way his eyes hold hers, how soft and unbelievably happy they always seem to be.
She wonders what it is he actually sees when he looks at her, wonders what she ever did in her entire life to warrant such reverence, and then he’ll smile at her in that way she so adores — a gentle curving of lips that makes the dimples flanking his mouth crease ever so slightly and makes her fingers itch to stroke over them.
Her cheeks always flame pink at his attentions and he always reaches up to rub his thumb along the stain. He never teases her, or comments on it, just simply delights in her bashfulness and the rosy hue before leaning down to press a light kiss against her lips.
Sometimes he doesn’t let go. Sometimes he just slides right in, wraps his arms around her waist and coaxes her lips apart so that his tongue can dip inside and taste and savor and cherish until she’s clinging to him, wanting him, needing him. He chuckles as he pulls away, resting his forehead against hers and sighing contentedly when he feels her playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.
It never takes them long to tumble into bed after that, the spark and the heat and the pure magic between them is too powerful to be denied. In those moments, he doesn’t rush, just peels away at her layers until she is bare and vulnerable before him and she can’t even breathe because he’s looking at her again — like she’s the Goddamn sun (and the moon and the stars and every brilliant thing in the universe) and she’ll never understand how she got so lucky.
“Killian,” she murmurs impatiently the longer he just stares, feasting on her with his too-blue, stormy eyes and sending little jolts of heat straight to her core.
He grins at her then, boyish and dashing. She would roll her eyes at him if she wasn’t so damn needy.
"You’re a bloody marvel, Swan," he says, and when his hand caresses from knee to hip and his fingertips dig in to anchor there, and he just slips home inch by glorious inch with his gaze unwavering on hers, she can almost believe him.
“Killian,” she exhales again, almost like a sigh. She’s trapped there with him, the heat and the pleasure building agonizingly slow while she meets him thrust for thrust, body craving that delicious friction and all but begging for release.
He shifts lower, brushes a kiss to her heart. “Let me, just let me.”
She gives herself over to him, she has no choice when he’s talking to her like that, when he’s looking at her like that — with such devotion, such honesty, such love. It makes tears spring into her eyes, makes the air expel from her lungs in harsh, ragged breaths, makes her feel overwhelmed by what he can pull from her, and it’s too much, everything is too much for her to bear.
She cries out when she falls, legs tightening around his hips and nails branding at his skin as a million tiny stars wash out her vision. He follows soon after, collapsing heavily atop her (she doesn’t mind) while her hands delve into his damp hair and tangle there as they attempt to regulate their hearts (she likes to think they end up beating in tandem).
He lifts his head, enough that he can see her face and she moves her hand around to cup his cheek in her palm, thumb smoothing over the scar there. He smiles once more and her stomach flips when he turns his head to press his lips against the pulse point on her wrist, eyes never leaving hers.
Like the Goddamn sun.
She definitely sighs this time, equal parts exasperated and ridiculously happy, as she tilts her chin up and kisses him softly on the lips.
Love you sheriffswan :))
A very, very, very happy birthday to Andi (hookskraken), who I adore more than words can express. I hope you like this little drabble, love, and I hope your day tomorrow is as amazing as you are <3
Emma isn’t sure when her heart began beating in time with Killian, each pulse that sends blood through her body mirroring his own. If she was her parents, running around talking about destiny and fate (she doesn’t tell them that she’s slowly starting to believe in all of that, too), she would say that their hearts have always beat to the same drum.
And maybe they have.
Emma has never heard Killian sing before, until he is comforting their sleepy newborn.
It’s only been two hours Emma thought as she rolled over in bed, turning down the baby monitor that sat blinking on her bedside table. She quickly wiped the sleep from her eyes and swung her legs over the edge of the bed, her feet quietly hitting the floor as she forced herself up and out of the cozy mountain of pillows and blankets.
She jumped as she heard a sudden humming coming from the baby monitor. Emma’s head whipped around, expecting Killian to be lying on the other side of the bed asleep, but he wasn’t there.
A smile pulled at the corners of her mouth as she realized what was going on. Killian had most likely slipped out of the room to comfort their infant son as soon as he heard him cry, not wanting to wake up Emma. He had been doing that lately, ever since they made the switch from the baby sleeping in a bassinet next to their bed to his own nursery down the hall. He was worried about him being on his own.
I tried to resist the pull of the snow-stranded trope, but I am weak, and my muse thinks tropes are the greatest thing since sliced bread.
(Title is from Simon and Garfunkel’s “A Hazy Shade of Winter”)
weaving time in a tapestry
The cabin is small, but it suits just fine, considering the blowing snow and the freezing temperature outside. It should concern her that she’s getting so used to this, but all she can really think about right now is the fact that she’s stuck in this cabin with gale force winds and snow piling up outside and even David isn’t dumb enough to drive out into the middle of the forest to rescue her. That and the fact that Killian is now stripping out of his brand new jacket, eyeing his freshly made fire as he pulls the scarf from around his neck, and they are perfectly, gloriously alone for the first time since they got back from the Enchanted Forest.
He quirks a brow when he sees her staring, and she shoots him a rueful grin in reply.
"You have got to stop following me into danger at every turn,” she tells him, very carefully not eyeing the pull of muscle beneath his dark green Henley as he folds the scarf and carefully sets it aside.
"I hardly think I’m likely to break pattern now, Swan," he says, eyes doing that thing where he’s saying so much more than the words coming out of his mouth. Her heart squeezes in her chest, a beautiful ache that has her stepping closer to him out of habit. “Besides, who would stoke your fires then, hm?”
(I got a line in my head and wanted to fic it. Not sure how good this one is, butttttt oh well)
Sometimes, Emma can’t help wondering if Killian wishes for the use of his left hand. There are moments when he kisses her, one hand threaded in her hair and his hook on her shoulder, where she questions if he would want to mirror his right hand’s actions and hold her even tighter. She hates herself for thinking it, because she doesn’t see him as disabled by any means.
She just can’t stop the curiosity that arises.
Part of her thinks maybe he wouldn’t get upset if she asked. They’ve shared so much more with each other than either is used to — what is a simple conversation about the past that he rarely speaks of?
It’s a long shot, and she knows it. Plus, they’re chasing an ice queen all over Storybrooke at the moment and everyone is a bit too preoccupied to ponder over such things.
So, she just lets it go.
For the time being.