Plot: Killian is a single father, and his daughter is enrolled in Emma’s dance class. He has nobody to watch his daughter after class, and he’s often late, so Emma usually sits and talks to the girl until she is collected from the dance school.
Chapter 4, Captain Swan AU, Rating M.
“…and into pas de chat, plié -Alexandra, lower please- remember your arms…” Emma softly called as she weaved through her students, during the center work. She nodded in approval, smiling to her girls, and the occasional boy in the group, as they completed the patterns she had taught them in previous weeks. She glanced across the room to her superstar, Daisy, and gave the girl a favorable smile and nod. Emma could see the girl was ready to burst with excitement, about something or other, and she couldn’t help but chortle to herself as she made her way back to the front of the class, readying herself to end it.
Holding up her hands, she gestured to the pianist to play the final chords of the practice music, and she nodded her thanks, gesturing for the students to perform their final positions.
“Okay, before we go home, there are a few things I want to talk to you guys about.” Emma smiled brightly as her students gathered around her, curious faces staring up at her, “First; we had such a fun time at the recital, and I’m so, so proud of you guys. You all danced so wonderfully, thank you! Second; we will be having a competition quite soon, so, I want you all to work very hard for me, okay? I will tell you guys who will be dancing, and to what.”
Tag: fanfic
you know…
Fake dating, flirty, Friday ficlet ahead. (TGIF) (Modern AU, 1300 words, rated T)
“Ow!”
“Sorry Swan, I didn’t just put that cabinet there, it’s been in place since I moved in.”
The leg pressed against his side digs a bit into his ribs and he chuckles, giving his best friend a cocky smirk as she rubs at the back of her head she’s just slammed into his upper cabinet after a too hearty laugh. They’re both a little tipsy, teetering closer over the edge into drunk with each pass of the bottle of rum between them. Said bottle is in his hand now and he twirls the brown liquid around, wondering how many sips they have left and if it’s really a good idea for Emma to be sitting on the counter in her current state.
“Shit, I hear Ruby. Killian, do me a favor?”
Not looking up from the bottle he merely nods, knowing there is very little in the world he won’t agree to do for Emma Swan.
“Eyes up here, sailor, this is important.”
Her green eyes are wide and imploring and his hand wraps around her knee in support of whatever distress has suddenly come over her.
“What is it, love?”
“Ruby is desperate to pair me up and mentioned bringing someone with her tonight for me to meet. I’m really not in the mood. Or interested. Can we…you know…pretend for just a minute…to…you know…”
A cold sweat breaks out beneath his flannel, his heart both breaking and doubling in time at the suggestion of pretending to “you know” with the woman sitting beside him. He’s wanted to “you know” with Emma for longer than he can remember, so it won’t take much on his part to sell the idea. He can’t help but feel lost at her wanting to pretend.
“But Ruby knows we’re just friends, so won’t she smell bullshit a mile away?”
The Words
Because Henry brought the book to the wedding, as if it needed one more chapter. And because I’m not sure if we’ll get season 7… but this story will forever be my favorite!
There was so much of their story he didn’t know. For the author that was a hard truth to swallow.
Every story needed a beginning, a middle and an end. There should be something catchy to the first line, and something poignant in the last. But as he sat with the pen rolling between his fingers he didn’t even know where to start.
He wasn’t there when they first met, though he had heard a story of a beanstalk and grandma Cora. And he had seen his mom’s blush when Hook mentioned a sword fight, but he didn’t know the reason why. In Neverland they had been together for days trying to save him, but he had seen the way they looked at each other after, sailing back among the clouds, something new. Then in New York, Hook had found them, bursting into their rewritten lives, and the long drive back to Maine, the whispered words between them when they thought he was asleep, the words hadn’t made any sense at the time, and now he couldn’t remember them.
There were so many gaps, so many loose ends. Theirs was a story that was woven through so many other different ones, there was even a chapter that featured them in the story of his grandparents. Tucked into the storybook that started so much of this. An illustration of them dancing, words written by another, another author better able to untangle the story.
And after that trip back in time things had changed, a shift in the tone of their story, act two. Then the night after the ice wall he hadn’t gone to see, he’d been surprised to see Hook holding his mom tight to his side pressing kisses to her hair. And he wasn’t there when she took on the darkness, but he had seen Hook’s face after, the words written across it as plainly as those on the pages of any book. And he hadn’t been there when they said goodbye in the Underworld, but he had seen his mom’s face after, all the words carefully hidden from his view.
There was so much of their story he hadn’t been around for. And still he knew they must have hit each important narrative point in their own way. He knew it in the way they loved each other and the way they had become a family. He watched them and the way they smiled over cocoa at Granny’s, the way Killian slipped a little rum from his flask into it earning a smirk from his mom. The way they sat curled together on the couch reading on quiet afternoons as he spread his homework across the floor, the way they would steal a kiss as the sun set into the waves when they were all out on the Jolly Roger. And he watched the way their eyes would meet across a crowd, the way they stood next to each other in a fight, her magic flashing off his sword. The way they seemed to anticipate each other’s movements, no longer needing words between them.
And perhaps they didn’t need words to know the other and still, now, surrounded by their loved ones, wrapped in golden sunlight and the breeze from the sea, they had found all the perfect words. Vows saturated with their love and memory, filled with promises and the future. And he marveled at the beauty of it, a moment that was both the end of a chapter and a whole new one.
He watched them, watched them share a secret smile and a kiss to seal a life together, and he was again at a loss. He wondered if perhaps this particular fairytale was never meant to be fully known by anyone but them. But if he could have written it down, somehow captured it onto a page, he knew what the last words would be, the ones tucked at the bottom, both a closure and a beginning: They lived happily ever after.
two pirates, one shirt–a post-ep cs ff (explicit)
post-ep kitchen smut. zero angst; nothing but umm eating a fine meal on a fine kitchen table. enjoy!
Two Pirates, One Shirt
“Whatcha doin’?”
Killian smiled as he felt the press of warm Swan against his back. Her hands snaked across his ribs and up his chest, one mischievous hand finding its way into his robe and the other smoothing up to his shoulder.
“Oof.” She pulled him flush against her; he carefully lifted the last pancake from the pan, then flipped it onto the plate next to the stove before tossing the spatula aside.
“Isn’t it kind of dangerous re-enacting yesterday’s breakfast?” she whispered into his ear. The pressure of her hand on his shoulder made him bend his knees slightly to adjust to her height. He was rewarded for his thoughtfulness with two things: the raking of her nails through his chest hair, a thing he had come to adore, and her breath hot against his neck as she leaned up to nibble at his ear lobe.
“Something tells me your mother will be knocking for the rest of her life,” he laughed softly, his eyes closing as her hand began to wander down.
“What’re you doing wearing my robe?” she demanded softly into his ear before giving it a punishing bite that he felt down in his groin. He loved it when Emma was like this–rough and insistent. It had been happening a lot the past few days, and he could hardly contain the wonder he felt in it–a happily engaged Swan was apparently a frisky Swan.
Scent (1/1)
Captain Swan, Explicit, ~3.3k words
Inspired by “I wasn’t talking about the pancakes.” Contains vague spoilers for the end of the series, but the kind of spoilers you can deduce from news articles about the finale. A couple of references to Killian with other partners in his past. Lots of references to the way women smell (and taste) during sex, so if that’s not your thing, you know. Be aware.
He can’t be blamed for it, not when she stands at the stove in their kitchen with her hair over one shoulder, the pale expanse of her neck exposed, a stark contrast to the black robe she wears. She protested his early morning advances, stomach rumbling and as she mumbled something about breakfast. After the day before, when once again they both feared they’d lost each other forever; when he went in a space of a few minutes from facing his death to facing his true love on his knees as he slid the ring onto her finger once again; when she went from losing her parents to a curse to being in their arms once again; when they finally, finally rushed back to their home and joined their bodies together with so much joy that he thought it might kill him – after a day like that, he can’t blame her for waking up a bit peckish. But then she can’t blame him for pouncing on her the moment he finds her downstairs in the kitchen.
The scent of her neck, of that spot just behind her ear, drives him mad. It is a swirling aroma of sweat and sex and her shampoo, a concentrated distillation of the redolence of Emma Swan, and it rarely fails to arouse him. He murmurs in her ear and feels her shiver against his chest, brushes his nose down her cheek and breathes her in. His cock rises to attention the moment her scent fills his nose, and he presses himself against her curves and smiles.
“I wasn’t talking about the pancakes.”
A continuation of this delightful story from @caprelloidea.
Emma needs a helping hand and Killian is more than happy to oblige. 6×18 smutty
interlude.
Tonight, it would seem, is further away than either of them
would prefer.He holds on to the promise in her voice though, how she
licked at the edge of the words with her tongue against her teeth. He does so
love the full pout of her lips, the way she looks when she’s on her knees and –“Easy, buddy,” she whispers, sly smile curling her lips as
her mother prattles on and on about the lighting and the potential and the need
for at least four variations of
canapes. What those are, he fears, he does not wish to know. She tugs on his
hook until he steps closer, the blunted edge of it catching at her hip. “Your
face is super obvious right now.”
Uninterrupted (1/1)
Summary: What would have happened if Snow hadn’t burst into Emma and Killian’s house with wedding plans? Unashamed and un-beta’d smut that’s what.
special shout out to @caprelloidea for screaming about that scene with me and leading me to this idea. and to @hellowherearemypeople who pointed out the robe.
Emma flipped the (slightly overdone) pancakes onto a plate, hoping to surprise Killian with breakfast in bed after a long night of celebratory engagement sex. Her surprise was ruined when she felt him press himself against her back, his breath hot on her neck and sending shivers down her spine.
“Something smells delicious,” he whispered, his lips gently brushing against the shell of her ear.
“It’s just from a box,” she smiled and bit her lip, she could feel his erection pressing up against her backside. She would have been surprised at his stamina had she not already experienced a long night of near marathon love making and fucking the night before.
“I’m not talking about the pancakes,” he growled before she turned and properly kissed him. Her hand rested itself on his cheek and the other pulled him even closer. Hungry moans escaped her lips as she came up for air before being swallowed again by Killian’s lips. And it struck her just then how domestic the whole scene was and just how happy it made her.
She pulled back and looked up at him, her fiance who had crossed realms to find her just as she did for him, who loved her with every inch of his soul, body, and mind, and she couldn’t help but smile as she ran her hands up his chest. It was real, he was real and they were getting married, something she had never thought she would do.
“What?” he asked, a smile spreading across his face.
“I’m just… happy,” she shrugged. “Sometimes it still surprises me.”
“Aye love. Me too,” he said before leaning down to kiss her again. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, fingers threading themselves through the hair at the nape of his neck. They pulled each other close so Emma could feel every inch of his body through her thick robe.
“To hell with pancakes,” she moaned against his lips, walking them back until Killian hit the kitchen table. Emma wasn’t concerned about making it to the bedroom and it didn’t seem like he was either as he palmed at her ass and ground against her.
“Swan is this my robe you’re wearing?” he asked, his hand now toying with the tie at her waist.
“Yes,” she smiled and cocked her eyebrow at him.
In which I headcanon that “bracing shower” is a euphemism for touching yourself. Rated E. Spoilers for 6×18.
Killian stomped up the stairs, a pleasant tingle in his
fingers and toes that made him feel heavy and tingly.“Tingly,” he whispered to himself, shaking his head, and his
hand for good measure. He grabbed a hold
of the railing when he nearly slipped on the landing, socks sliding on the
slick wooden floors.
cosmic love–a post-ep cs ff
spoilers for 6.17; some young emma angst; some hook angst; shadow angst
Cosmic Love
I took the stars from our eyes, and then I made a map
And knew that somehow I could find my way back
-Florence and the Machine
“Who’s there?”
Emma sat up in a panic, looking around from her top bunk and trying to figure out what had startled her out of sleep. She could hear the soft snores of Sophia, the girl in the bottom bunk, but she didn’t think that was the noise she’d heard. She lay there for a few seconds, taking very deep, very careful breaths through her nose, trying to calm her racing heart. After a while, her thoughts and heart caught up to each other, and she could feel herself falling back to sleep.
I’m not afraid of the dark, she told herself defiantly. Just the stuff that moves around in it.
She turned onto her side, sighing and yawning, her eyes going to slits as she settled away from a sharp spring poking her in the hip. Sophia snorted and it nearly made her laugh–until she noticed a slight movement on the wall opposite her bed.
I’m not afraid of the dark. I’m not.
Against her better judgment, Emma opened her eyes wider, telling herself that she was brave, and that it was nothing. Then she sighed with relief; it was just a tree branch moving around outside–must’ve been windy or something–the shadows flitting around on the wall inside the little room she shared with three other kids. She watched it for a little while, the little spots of light dancing around the leaves. After a while, it became soothing, watching those shadows. Almost friendly. Kind of comforting, actually.
Hi alex! I dont know if you take prompts and if you dont thats ok. If you do can you write a scene in your bth verse where emma tells killian about her ability to spot lies please? Thank you and dont worry if you dont have time to write it i understand.
So, this is one of those things where it’s clear that at some point in Beyond the Horizon, Killian finds out about Emma’s superpower, but I never wrote the actual scene where she tells him. Then I got carried away and wrote 4,000 words once I started thinking about how it would have come out. Unlike the other BtH extras, this isn’t a single scene, this is some missing bits and pieces that take place over several chapters of the main fic.
Also on ff.net here as part of my Interlude at Sea series.
(and yes, there’s smut)
…..
Something was nagging at him.
It was a faint but insistent tug at the back of his mind, a lurking shadow in the corner of his eye.
“Women on ships are bad luck.”
Killian Jones was superstitious – all sailors were, to some extent. He wore charms around his neck to guard against the cold grasp of Davy Jones (no relation) and never dared to challenge the wind by absent-mindedly whistling on deck. He steered well clear of the flocks of albatrosses soaring about overhead in search of dinner and avoided the sleek schools of mermaids below – treacherous, untrustworthy creatures they were, but he’d never held much stock in the old belief that a woman aboard a ship was bad luck. He certainly didn’t think that his golden-haired treasure had brought him any ill since he’d stolen her away for his own, the single storm (that they’d forded with no casualties and no cost save a lost day or two on repairs) aside, he’d had nothing but astonishingly good luck with Princess Emma by his side.
In his arms.
In his bed.
But still, there was something about her that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Some mysterious quality about her that had nothing to do with her more obvious, feminine charms, like the tilt of her lips that practically begged for his kisses or the curve of her waist that seemed to have been made for his hands to circle and pull her close, lovely and dreadfully distracting whenever he tried and failed to get to the bottom of exactly what was bothering him.
So he watched,
And waited.
It All Starts With a Dance 