“Killian,” she pants, breathless and heated, “we don’t have time.”
He laughs into her neck, running his tongue sloppily from her clavicle to her jaw. His breath warms her ear as he whispers, “Darling, you underestimate me.”
So after 6×01 I started this little smutlet on the premise that Emma and Killian weren’t interrupted by the dirigible. I let it sit for way too long, but this is the final product. The original inspiration was this gif:
Because now we know what their sex faces look like. (I don’t have a source on this, so if this is yours let me know and I’ll remove or credit per your request.)
He can hardly breathe at the sight of it, the sweet, carefree abandon on her features as he settles above her, her eyes closed and and just the slightest hint of a smile on her lips as he teases at her mouth and presses his hips into hers. Her giggle only wrecks him more, the unbridled happiness on her face and knowing that he is the cause of it, that she’s just as desperate for him, that all the things he thought he’d never have (and certainly didn’t deserve) are laid out in front of him, a wide-open road upon which he can shape his future.
They’re frenzied and giddy and half-clothed when it all comes down to it, she still wearing her sweater and jacket with only one leg out of her jeans and he entirely covered save for his belt and zipper. But that same look crosses her face when he presses inside her, and while they decidedly do not take their time once they begin moving it’s making love all the same, fast and frantic with an underlying sweetness as their fingers tangle together and their foreheads touch.
“Say it again,” he whispers against her mouth as he moves.
Her hand tightens against the small of his back before sliding further down, pulling him tighter against her. “I love you. God, I love you so much.”
don’t read this if you haven’t seen Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. we always need more Harry Potter AUs, don’t we?
Emma’s head felt a bit woozy: she wasn’t used to Apparating so much, instead relying on her own legs or the ever-expanding lines of New York public transportation like every other New Yorker. Easier to spot meddling No-Majs or lawbreaking wizards when you were out and about with the crowd. She sat with her back against the wall and her eyes closed against the bright lights illuminating the advertisement twenty feet above her head; the hard brick dug into her back, a welcome reminder that they’d made it out of the MAGUSA prisons and breathed fresh – if not really free – air.
And truthfully, she really didn’t think her legs would hold up any longer. She’d had some close calls in her life – serving in the war and Auror work did that to a gal – but that one was probably the closest.
They’d all agreed that they needed a solid night of rest. Of course, it had been night ever since they’d gotten here, so this was just something they’d agreed on when, one by one, they’d admitted they were exhausted. And so they’d made camp and everyone had wrapped themselves in their blankets and gone to sleep.
Except Emma, of course.
Just like the last time she’d tried to sleep, she could hear the cries of the Lost Boys. She hated why she could hear them. It was just proof that the damage was done, that finding her parents didn’t matter since they’d left her in the first place. She never wanted Henry to be able to hear these sounds.
Even though she was physically wiped, she was an experienced enough insomniac to know that sleep wasn’t going to happen. She knew that David and Mary Margaret would protest, talk about how she needed her rest to be ready to go up against Pan and whatnot, but it wasn’t like she hadn’t been trying to sleep. She knew she wouldn’t, and it wasn’t worth trying, at least not for a few hours.
She was about to roll out of her makeshift bed and so she could sit by the fire when she heard someone else moving about. She flipped onto her side to find Hook sitting up, pulling on his leather coat, and walking away from the camp.
Emma moves back to town following the highly-publicized scandal that leaves Killian Jones as the new owner of the Huntsman’s Horn Stables. She’s determined to help pick up the pieces in the wake of the tragedy, even with the eyes of the racing world on Storybrooke Downs-and the eyes of the new trainer on her.
so a while back i opened fanfiction cover requests and this one was VERY heavily requested. there’s a few requests i’m just now getting to again, life has been pretty hectic but i am officially opening cover requests, whether they are captain swan, klaroline or whatever.
you can submit your own or suggest somebody else’s here.
“EMMA NO!” The panicked voice echoed over the empty streets of Storybrooke as the black haired pirate ran forward. “No no no no!” He catches Emma in his arms before she hits the ground. Her face is surprised, not quite realising the pain her body is in. “I- failed.“
The hooded figure that wielded the sword now bloodstained on the ground collapses, their hand on the same place they hit the blonde Savior. “I-love yo-” a sigh, last breath, silence. “NO EMMA NO. COME BACK. EMMA!” Killian cries out, but the person the words are meant for can not hear them anymore. Rushing behind the mourning man, a boy, now freed from his adoptive mother’s embrace, runs forward. “Mom!” “Henry no!” People running people shouting people calling. Everything turns into a blur.
A cold stone on freshly dug earth bearing a name he once lovingly called his, two dates too close to each other underneath. If Storybrooke was a village with lots of visitors, they would have noticed the town being extraordinary quiet, a feeling as if when God spread colour over the world He forgot this small town. They would have seen a black dressed mayor next to a loose standing door in the middle of the main road, ushering people through with a fake smile on her face. They would have seen the people disappear and not appear at the other side of the door. They would have noticed a young boy crying in the arms of a pretty girl his own age. They would have seen the owner of the local bed and breakfast silently baking a cake with her granddaughter, without the usual cheer on her face. They would have, but Storybrooke isn’t the kind of village with lots of visitors.
Nobody sees a one-handed man enter an antiquities shop. Nobody sees him take a seemingly ordinary knife. Nobody sees him post one last letter, explaining his actions. Nobody sees him walk to the park, sees him cut his hand. Nobody sees a boat appearing in the evening fog. Nobody sees the pirate boarding, nobody sees them leave into the endless nothingness.
A single bird sounds as a young couple steps out of a bright shining light. Years have passed, next to them walks what once was a young baby in the arms of an imprisoned woman. Behind the couple walks an old woman, hair as white as her name suggests. They enter a castle, white tall towers, bright long hallways, cosy rooms and gorgeous gardens.
The family coming home is a big mix up of unlikely persons. A savior, a pirate, a Queen, a princess. A shepherd, embracing his son the Prince. An author, a princess from Camelot. A thief famous for his abilities with a bow and arrow. Behind them even more people. Family, friends. People they met along their way. It has been long, and their lives are ones you can write many books about. But now, finally, they are home.
Filled to bursting with pizza and ice cream, Henry lay on the bench opposite the small fold down table in the cabin, head in Emma’s lap. His eyes had been drooping, drowsy from sun, swimming and the fact that it was already two hours past his bedtime.
So much for getting him home early.
Killian sat across from them perched on the corner of his own bench, guitar across his thighs and a smile on his slightly sunburned face.
You can lead a musician to SPF 50 but you can’t make him remember to reapply.
“Only if your mom says it’s okay.” He winked at Emma and even though she knew the smart choice would be to call for Anton and head back to shore and bundle a tired kid into the backseat of a car that absolutely did NOT look out of place at Boston Harbor thanks to the owners of the numerous yachts docked there, she couldn’t say no.
Partly because she rarely got to see Henry interact with an adult male who didn’t work for her and partly because, well, she didn’t fucking want to.
Also on AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/8621488
Rated: G
Ship: Captain Swan
Summary:
Emma wants to tell Killian something, but Killian also wants to ask Emma a very important question.
~~
“Killian? Can you come home? Like, now?”
The message was sent ten minutes ago, but the pirate was still nowhere to be seen. Emma walked up and down the hallway, nervous. She didn’t even know why she was nervous. They had talked about it after all, and he had been very positive. More so than she. Yet, now, it actually happening… Emma had to to admit she was frightened. “I’d rather battle dragon or some other crazy monster.” she mumbles. She grabs her phone again, still no message. An old fear creeps up in her. Rationally, she knew he wouldn’t, but the last time this happened… She quickly shakes her head, as if she wanted to literally share the memory off of her. No. Killian wouldn’t. She checks her phone again, already knowing what she would, or wouldn’t, find on there.
Emma hates waiting. She always had. She hated the feeling of not being able to do anything, of not being in control. And she especially hated it now. She resisted the urge to check her phone again and instead turned on the cattle. She would have used magic to heat the water but now… She would have to ask Regina about it. Maybe she knew more.
Twenty minutes. She sent that dammed message twenty minutes ago. Where was Killian? Maybe something happened. Maybe he is far out at sea. Maybe he was hurt. Maybe he got into an accident trying to get to her, maybe he was dead!
The cattle started whistling, interrupting her dark thoughts. “Killian is fine. He is fine. He is on his way.” she repeated whilst pouring the hot water in a mug. “I sure am, love. You needed me?” “AH!” Emma screams at the sudden voice behind her, almost dropping the water. “Sorry love, didn’t mean to startle you.” Emma turns around, finally looking in those bright blue eyes she had grown so accustomed to. “Killian! You’re here! And what happened to your leather pants? Since when do you wear a suit and tie?” “Do you like it?” his voice suddenly sounds nervous. “You look incredibly handsome.” Emma answers with a smile. “You know me, I’m a dashing rapscallion.” Silence falls in the kitchen as they both smile. “But you needed me? Your phone message thingy sounded quite urgent.”
“Oh, yeah. Ehm. Well. I-” Emma stutters and falls silent. “What is it, love?”
“I’m pregnant.” Emma bursts out the words, surprised at how emotional she feels upon saying the words out loud for the first time. Killian looks surprised. “Pregnant?” “Yes. With a child. A baby. I’m going to be a mother. I already am a mother. But I’m going to be a mother again. With you. You’re going to be a father. I know we didn’t think it would happen so soon but I hope you don’t mind an-” she rambles, suddenly very nervous. “Pregnant. You’re pregnant. With my child. I’m going to be a father.” Killian looks at her. “I’M GOING TO BE A FATHER!” Before Emma can say anything else she feels his arms around her, his lips on her lips. “This is amazing! Oh-” he steps back, carefully. “Was that hug too hard? Did I hurt the baby? Are you alright? How are you feeling? Do you need anything?” Emma laughs, all her fears gone. “I don’t need anything. Just you.” “I am all yours.” Suddenly he is kneeling the ground. “If you want me?”
Emma blinks. A ring. It’s really a ring. He is proposing. Killian Jones, Captain Hook, is proposing to her. In her kitchen. And she is pregnant with his baby. This is a thing that is happening right now.
“I am so sorry I was late when you texted me. I was planning on taking you to dinner on the Jolly Roger and we would sail out and look at the sea and I would propose on deck and not here in a kitchen b-” “YES!” Emma interrupts. “Yes. Yes, I want you. I will always want you.”
They end up on the Jolly Roger anyway. He proposes, again, and she says yes, again. Their night is more intimate than ever. Killian falls asleep curled up against her belly. Emma smiles as her fingers trace circles on her fiancé’s head. Fiancé. Emma has never loved that word so much as she does now.
Emma closes her eyes and listens to the water splashing on the sides of the ship. She can picture her child, theirchild. Her own real family, just like she always dreamt. Two children, a husband, her parents…
When Killian wakes up he sees his fiancée with the biggest smile upon her face. With his hand carefully caressing her belly he carefully snuggles up to her. That moment he knows,
summary: emma passes by killian every morning on her daily run. she’s never spoken to him all that much, but of course she goofs up and accidentally runs into him. literally.
wc: 2.2k or so.
a/n: yeah no i haven’t written in forever, forgive me as i need to get back into the groove of things. (also on ao3)
Her mornings are the same rinse and repeat process. While
she dreads getting up early, she does it anyway, and if anything, it’s merely
to fit in the morning run she takes across the beach and to the docks before
taking a turn home to shower and get ready for the rest of her day as Sheriff
of Storybrooke.
But to be honest, there’s nothing ever to really be
worried about in this small town.
And no, she totally doesn’t sacrifice sleeping in for the
hot guy — Killian Jones — she passes every time during her hot run. No, she
doesn’t notice the way his short sleeve shirt clings to his skin or the way
sweat droplets roll down his skin. Emma doesn’t care about the way his hair is
plastered to his forehead slightly and the way his lips are just parted as he exhales.
(Perhaps she’s a tad insane.)
It’s not like she talks to him, though. They nod and
smile at each other, perhaps change a silent hello as they both have
motivational music blasting into their ears, but never once have they really spoken. And yet, it feels like she knows
him plenty already just from observing him. Not just while he runs, but the
occasional times of noticing him at work on his ship or seeing him at Granny’s.
Sometimes she might just be eyeing him from afar, taking notice of the stubble
that runs along his jaw, accentuating the sharpness.
And god forbid her from speaking about his voice. Gentle
and smooth.
First things first: I apologise for having you wait so long for an update. I got my first job last month, and most days I am so exhausted that I come home and fall asleep.
But I will try to update more regularly again.
Secondly, LKaOUT has been nominated in the CSfanficawards, for which I am SO incredibly grateful, I cannot express my gratitude enough. Thank you so, so much! Also, Gracie has been nominated for best original character, and I’m so proud of this. I really do love Gracie and I am super happy you love her as well.
Summary: CS AU, set in 1815. – Lord Killian Jones is haunted by the demons of his past which makes him nowhere near the man he once was, so he can’t be the father he wants to be. And above all, he believes he is undeserving of love. Perhaps with Emma that is all about to change. But falling in love is never easy, that’s just how it is.
It All Starts With a Dance 