Score One for the Coach

Art by: @nicole-nikla


Author: adamantbarracuda


Title: Score One for the Coach

Summary: When her son takes up football, Emma Swan starts attending games to support him. She just wants to cheer on her kid, but all the other moms want to set her up with the team’s coach, Killian Jones. No matter how good looking he is, she hates set-ups. But can she really resist his charms once she starts getting to know him better?

Rating: T for mild language and some light petting (nothing explicit)

Trigger Warning: brief mention of deaths of minor characters in the past (this is an AU, but Killian still lived through some of same tragedies that he does in canon)

Notes: I live in the Southern US, and one of our major fall traditions is football. The weather may not reflect it, but you know it’s fall when football season starts. So when it came time to write a story about fall, that was one of the first things I thought of. I hope you like what I’ve come up with!

Many many many thanks to @jonirobinson64 for being an amazing beta reader. She truly helped me make this a great story, and I am grateful to have had the chance to work with her. It’s so nice to make fandom friends through this event.

And I know they are the ones posting this, but trust that the next words are mine (the author’s) alone. Many thanks also to the moderators of @fallfocs. You all have done a great job and I can’t wait to read all the new stories!

Emma cringed as she watched Henry get tackled for the third time that day. He had insisted on playing football this year, and it was the first extracurricular activity his dad Neal supported and was willing to pay for. So, despite her concerns about injury, she hadn’t tried very hard to talk her son out of playing. She was just happy there was finally something that allowed her ex to connect with his son.

Henry was good at the sport when he paid attention, but today was not one of those days. He kept looking to the bleachers to see when his dad was going to show up, and the defensive players were taking advantage of his distraction. Luckily he hadn’t given up any points… yet. Being one of the fastest runners at his school, he’d been given the position of Running Back. His slight stature and ability to weave through obstacles had dubbed him the team’s secret weapon. The other team wouldn’t see him coming until it was too late. But he had to avoid getting tackled to make that work, and today he was doing a very poor job of it.

The coach blew his whistle. “Swan! Get your head in the game! Our first real matchup is Thursday. We need you focused!”

Emma couldn’t help but swoon just a little at the football coach’s accented speech. His elegant tone made even the most mundane platitudes sound exciting. And, even if she thought he might be granting a little too much importance to a game played by middle school kids, she appreciated his motivation tactics. He never lashed out in anger or tried to embarrass the kids. Instead he reminded them how dependent they were on each other.

Keep reading

Classroom Distractions

This is almost entirely fluff as a break from a really angsty one-shot I’ve also been working on.  I have some other stuff in the works (including a canon one-shot, AU one-shot, and multi-chap), but I thought I’d get this out.  Hope you enjoy!

FFN | AO3

Summary: Professor Killian Jones’ history lecture gets a surprise visitor. (NOT StudentxProfessor)

Everybody taking one of Professor Killian Jones’ lectures knew Mrs. Jones.  Or, if they didn’t know she was actually his wife, they knew the blonde woman who he called “Swan” and who occasionally snuck into the room and made their professor’s always excited grin grow even wider.

She first appeared in the middle of his Ancient, Medieval, and Renaissance Political Theory lecture about three lectures into the class.  About one-third of the female population was drooling over the handsome professor with the accent talking about the Spartan system of government when the blonde woman slid into the room and sat in the chair behind his desk as he lectured in front of the projector.

The students who first noticed her assumed she was an older student who was either playing a prank or trying to catch the eye of Professor Jones by doing something bold. However, when the man caught sight of her, he merely smiled and asked, “Well, Swan, since you seem so eager to learn, can you tell me who first imposed this code of laws on Sparta?”

She frowned thoughtfully and responded, “Lucretius?”

He chuckled. “Lycurgus, love.  But I can tell you’re listening.”  He leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of her head before turning back to his class.  “Let’s go ahead and take our break now.  Five minutes and be back here.”

Keep reading

@thesschesthair was like “here’s a CS prompt” and I was like “Well seeing as how thinking about this made my stomach swoop…”


“Aw, Swan, do you find me handsome?” Killian asks, grinning at the mug.

Emma does her best not to roll her eyes, going back to the counter to clean up the spilled coffee grounds. She almost regrets buying the mug on a whim (if it made her smile, it definitely would make him smile), but she does, on occasion, like stroking his ego – especially when it usually means he strokes something in return. “I married you, didn’t I?” she retorts, sweeping the mess into the sink and rinsing it down the drain.

He sounds amused, his voice muffled slightly by its proximity to the mug. “The truth comes out, you only love me for my looks.”

She scoffs, turning on her heel and giving his ear a tweak as she passes him. He makes a noise of complaint and she appeases him by pressing a kiss on the crown of his head before heading into the laundry room. It’s Killian’s day to do it, but he always forgets to take her bras out before swapping things into the dryer and while he denies purposely destroying her lingerie so she doesn’t have any to wear, she doesn’t want to take the risk. There’s also a few other delicates that need air drying, so she takes care of that too, leaving the rest for him to take care of later while she’s at work.

Emma’s turning, with her arms full of bras and lace-back shirts, when her husband swoops down and kisses the living daylights out of her. She drops the clothes in favor of throwing her arms around his neck and he lifts her off her feet. There’s words between kisses, she thinks, she’s a little too dazed to recognize more than “perfect” “woman” “bloody” and “marvelous” and much too interested in this new turn of events to try and piece together what he could mean.

Killian sets her on top of the washing machine and a wicked thought crosses her mind, but before she can make any suggestions, he’s cupping her face with his hand and looking at her like she’s put the damn moon in the sky. “Wow,” she breathes. “Good morning to you, too.”

“You are a tricky little minx, my love, but the coffee mug was perfect.”

Emma giggles, giddy from his burst of affection and the loving way he’s tucking her hair behind her ear. “Man, I should make you coffee more often if this is how you’ll react.”

One eyebrow twitches. “I’d hope it’s not more than once a year, love, we do need to make sure you rest.”

She opens her mouth to respond, then closes it as it dawns on her that she has no idea what he’s talking about. “Killian?”

“I actually don’t believe it’s possible, though there are twins of course, but I’m more than happy to give you all the children you could possibly want–Swan?”

Thoroughly puzzled now, Emma gently pushes him aside so she can slide down off the washer and goes back to the kitchen. His new mug sits empty on the table and she picks it up, examining it much more closely than she had in the store.

‘You’re going to be a daddy.’

Her eyes close and her heart seizes. “Oh, Killian…”

I didn’t know.

“You didn’t know.”

He’s right behind her and he sounds so disappointed and she can’t stand that note in his voice, the neglected one that whispers of lost hopes and bitter dreams. “I wouldn’t have bought it if I did. I’m so…”

Killian presses a kiss to her forehead, shushing her softly. “Don’t apologize, darling. I should have guessed it wasn’t your intention, you’re much more blunt and to the point about these sorts of things. You did practically scent out your engagement ring and demand I propose to you, after all.”

“I did not,” she says, but she’s laughing a little. “I’m still sorry I got your hopes up.”

He kisses her again and she tucks herself into his embrace. “I’m sorry too,” he says, and that’s how she knows this hurts him more than he lets on.

Emma tilts her head up, considering him. “Well… we’ve been trying, haven’t we?” she asks. At Killian’s inquiring look, she dares a small smile. “No reason we can’t try again now, right?”

He smiles and she hopes it won’t be long before he loses the wistful air about him. She does hate to disappoint.


The next time she uses the mug in the morning, she puts a sticky note on the outside, “Seriously this time, I promise”, and sits right on the edge of the bed to watch as the words sink in for her sleep-addled pirate.

The Anti-Valentine’s Day Party

It’s heeeeeere. Happy Valentine’s Day @myst-l-vie​ from your no longer secret valentine! Fluff is not my strong suit but hopefully you enjoy this. <3

Read on Ao3 

-x-

“You’re still coming to the party tonight, right?”

Emma rolls her eyes, stabbing at her phone to put it on speaker and tossing it onto her passenger seat. “I’m just leaving the liquor store. Yes, I’ll be there,” she assures Ruby, carefully placing the bag of booze on the passenger side floor with a pleasant clinking of bottles.

“Is Elsa coming with you?”

Emma wrinkles her nose, clicking her seat belt into place and shoving the keys into the ignition. “She’s doing something with Liam.”

“Killian’s brother Liam? When did that happen?”

“Like a week ago? Killian forgot his jacket, and his brother was with him when he stopped by the apartment. Elsa was doing yoga in the living room. Apparently they go to the same studio, but he goes on Tuesday and she goes on Wednesday, and they just started going on and on while Killian and I stood there staring at them like the insane people they are. They decided to go together on Monday, and I sort of haven’t seen much of her since.”

“Huh.” Ruby’s surprise is evident in her response, but then she adds, “Wait, Killian forgot his jacket? How does someone forget their jacket when it’s negative ten?”

Emma groans, because she knows this tone of voice, and she knows exactly how Ruby is going to react. “I might have been wearing it, and I fell asleep.”

Keep reading

Past the Clouds, We’ll Find the Stars [CS FF Oneshot]

This was supposed to be a little oneshot that was sparked from my headcanon about CS adopting. It took on a life of its own and…well, here it is. Thank you to @peggyyswan for being my ride or die, for always flailing with me and for reading this via photos of my laptop screen as I went along. I’ll post it on FFnet soon.

CS + Adoption and more: A dash of angst, a sprinkling of humor & a whole lotta fluff.

Title: Past the Clouds, We’ll Find the Stars
Rating: T
Words: 8.6K


“So…what do you think about adopting?”

It wasn’t a question Killian had been prepared for. Not at 11pm on a Monday night as they cuddled in bed watching Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives. It struck him as more of an over-dinner conversation, or one inspired by watching TV shows involving infants, as opposed to run-down shacks serving questionable-looking yet apparently delicious meals.

He shifted to find his wife’s eyes, but she kept them fixed on the television screen, and his brow creased as he considered her. She was snuggled into his side, hand tracing idle patterns through his chest hair, cheeks aglow and hair tousled from their recent tumble between the sheets. But he had a feeling that the color on her cheeks had more to do with her question than their earlier pleasurable activities.

“Are you referring to a puppy or a child, darling?”

Keep reading

Because I love those hours before the sun comes up, when you wake up for a moment and you realize you can stay in bed just a little while longer. And you’re safe. And there’s no rush. And it’s quiet. For all my hub loves. xo Pre-pancakes, so it’s v smutty. Don’t get me wrong, it’s highly emotional and descriptive, but it’s still porn. To experience the full mood of this thing, I’d recommend listening to Max Richter’s “Three Worlds” as you read.  @captainwiley @dassala @the-reason-to-sail-home @thejollypirate @businesscasualprincess @shoedonym @katie-dub @abbadons-little-witch @swanandapirate @mahstatins

+ It’s dark when she opens her eyes. Not the dark of late evening, when the stars have begun to twinkle in the sky—when the only sound to be heard is the choral chirping of insects, the darkening of doorways. No, it’s a darkness that knows it will have to fade eventually, a grey dawn that casts their bedroom in a hazy, dreamlike glow.

A nippy, quiet breeze smelling suspiciously of rain tiptoes through the open window and she catches the scent of him on the air. It’s a spicy mixture of cologne and sweat, a warm, enticing blend that clashes wonderfully with the fresh, tingling wetness of an impending storm. She can feel his rough, weathered fingers against the bare flesh of her waist. The tap, tap, tapping of his thumb against her belly. The smooth, hard metal of his ring against her stomach not unlike the steady ringing of a church bell, a far off song, a call to his side.

Keep reading

Lost Luggage

This was meant to be a short prompt fic, but it took on a life of its own and is now around 6,000 words so here we go. For @seethelovelyintheworld who wanted a lost luggage situation where Emma has to wear Killian’s clothes. 

Also on Ao3 is that’s your jam. 

————————————————–

It’s annoying when ten minutes have gone by and almost everyone from the flight but her and Killian have their bags – it’s really annoying when Killian’s scuffed leather duffle comes tumbling down the luggage shoot and he flashes her that obnoxiously sunny grin of his.

It’s freaking terrible when the belt turns off, a handful of lonely suitcases spread along the dusty rubber, and not one of them belongs to Emma Swan. 

“Seriously?” she asks the filthy airport ceiling right before squeezing her eyes shut. She refuses to cry. Not while Killian is standing there, his nagging only hours ago that they were going to miss their flight if she didn’t hurry her arse up taunting her from the edge of her memory.

“Let’s go, Swan. We’ll need to talk to someone from the airline about this.” He sounds so calm that Emma just wants to punch him, but instead she stands in the middle of the now-empty baggage claim for another few seconds, as if somehow when she opens her eyes her bag will magically be waiting for her.

It isn’t.

She shrugs off Killian’s tentative hand on her shoulder and stalks over to the airline representative.

They’re in a shuttle to the resort not thirty minutes later. Emma is beyond angry, beyond frustrated. She’s just tired now. Exhausted. If she had to listen to one more insincere apology from the airline rep, one more word about weather, she was going to lose her mind and probably get hauled off by the TSA and taken to some awful, windowless room. She’d probably still be there ten hours later when the rest of their friends arrived, too. No luggage. No toothbrush. No sanity.

It’s enough to make her laugh under her breath, a harsh, bitter burst of air that draws Killian’s attention. He raises one of his eyebrows in question, too polite to really ask her what her problem is when the shuttle driver can hear. But that’s Killian Jones. Too polite when it doesn’t freaking matter.

Keep reading

For Practical Purposes Only (Full Version - CS AU)

This story started a very long time ago with a snippet that people liked and wanted a longer version of - so after you all have waited for way too long, here it is. Thanks for being so patient. 

For those who don’t remember, or who never read the original short piece, this is a “Emma asks Killian to marry her so that it’s easier for her to adopt Henry” story, now with the addition of bedsharing. 13,000 words. 



“I found him.”

He saw the name Henry Mills on the manila folder she tossed onto the coffee table before she disappeared in the deep recesses of his couch. He racked his brain, trying to remember which skip this was, but nothing came to mind.

“And what was Mr. Mills’ crime, love? Are you anticipating a struggle?” He never doubted that Emma could take care of herself. The woman was a force to be reckoned with when it came to apprehending the men and women of Boston who felt they could skip out on their bail. But he wished that she took fewer chances all the same.

He hadn’t taken his eyes off the Red Sox game, knowing Emma would fill him in on the details of the case, as well as her plan for luring the suspect into a meeting that would allow her to get the handcuffs on. She was brilliant at that.

Her silence at his question signaled that something about Henry Mills was out of the ordinary.

“Emma?” He turned, moving the side of the cushion away from her face to check and see if she hadn’t fallen asleep, but her semi-glazed over eyes indicated she was simply deep in thought. “Emma, what’s going on?” He picked up the remote and quickly hit the mute button, and pulled her to a more upright position.

“Emma, is this Mills person someone I need to be worried about? What can I do? Or anyone do. There are other bail bonds agencies you can call in for assistance, love. No need to go it alone.”

The panic in his voice had risen, snapping Emma out of the daze she’d allowed herself to drift into after entering his apartment.

“Calm down, Jones.” She settled back, but still nothing about her body language put Killian at ease. “He’s not a bail jumper.” She folded her arms over her chest, and rubbed her biceps a few times before continuing. “Just look at the file.“

Keep reading

It Was Always You

Notes: I am a woman of my word and may the record reflect that. I promised @forestiyari​ a gift if she completed some productive tasks and that gift is this little one-shot here. I’ve taken some cues from the wonderful @katie-dub and started a policy of positive enforcement. Which is why she’ll get a ficlet too if she ever finishes her fic. It’s sappy but I know that Amy loves fuckstruck!Killian and cop AUs and this kinda has those elements. This is more bounty hunter!Emma and detective!Killian. I apologize for the Killian focus on this, Amy, but I love him as much as you love Emma. Forgive me. A special thank to @welllpthisishappening​ for always being my cheerleader. I am nothing without your support.
Summary: Four words completely change Emma Swan’s frienship with her favorite police detective Killian Jones when she drops off one of her skips on Valentine’s Day.
Rating: T
Word Count: 2,300+


As a bounty hunter in a big city, Emma has her choice of police districts to drop scum off at, but she has a preference for District D-14. This preference was born of a variety of reasons but mainly because it was close to her apartment and the fact its employees could actually brew a decent pot of coffee. It had absolutely nothing to do with the detectives who worked there, despite popular belief. 

“Brought us another winner, eh Swan?” Detective Killian Jones asked as she unceremoniously pushed her perp onto his desk. He didn’t blink at the action, merely leaning back in his chair and chewed on the end of his pen as he regarded her. The perp in question let out a groan and glared at her. She ignored him in favor of giving the detective a smirk. 

“Thought you would enjoy a Valentine’s Day gift.”

He eyed the tight red dress she wore with a tiny smirk of his own. “And what a gift it is. You look quite ravishing in red.”

“I meant the perp, Casanova,” she retorted with a roll of her eyes. Her words were stern but lacked heat. Detective Jones loved to flirt, but he was relatively harmless. He always backed off when she asked.

“Not that I don’t appreciate the thought, but I prefer my gifts to be, well, less criminally inclined. What did this guy do?”

“Oh you know, my favorite - credit card fraud, insurance fraud and hasn’t paid child support in two years. He’s quite the catch.”

Keep reading

in vitibus veritas

… in which Emma, Hook, and Neal are unwilling participants in one of Pan’s little games while in Neverland.

Idea shamelessly stolen from the latest episode of Shadowhunters. For @ofshipsandswans​, thanks for the help and inspiration! ♥


A mix of annoyance and dread mingled in the pit of Emma’s stomach as she trudged along the path behind Hook, his black leather cloak swinging heavily with each swaggering step he took. Cracking leaves and heavy footsteps behind her told her that Neal was following closely, bringing up the rear. Emma wasn’t happy with the arrangement, but the guys had lined up, taking her between them, without any kind of discussion. Unfortunately, it made sense. She didn’t know the jungle like either of them did, and judging by Hook’s confident stride, he knew where he was going.

Still, she wished for different company. They’d had to split up, and it made sense to have a magic user in each group, but Emma would much rather have gone with her parents. Since that would have left Regina with Hook and Neal, though, it had never really been an option.

This arrangement was the one least likely to cause friction, and Emma knew it. Even so, Hook and Neal was a combination that she would normally have avoided at all costs.

But really, Hook with anyone was a bad combination. He had a talent for finding people’s buttons, and little self-control when it came to pushing them.

Although her father had stopped glowering at him. Progress, of a sort.

Ahead, the path opened into a clearing, and Hook’s steps slowed. He looked back over his shoulder. “Careful,” he warned. “Keep your eyes and ears open.”

They were halfway across the clearing when Emma felt something—a shiver at the base of her neck, and a tugging in her chest, prompting her to look left into the trees. She reached out to grab the sleeve of Hook’s coat, pulling him to a stop. “Wait,” she ordered, peering into the dense jungle.

“What’s wrong?” Neal demanded.

Hook said nothing, his hand on the pommel of his sword, eyes following Emma’s.

“I’m not sure,” Emma had to admit. “I just feel… something.”

“You feel something,” Neal echoed, coming to a stop at her other side. “Okay…”

“Oh, very good,” said a voice, and a lithe figure stepped out from the trees, where his green outfit had effectively camouflaged him.

Peter Pan.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

because the winter finale of S6, au in which princess!Emma has a pirate sneaking into her bedroom at night and all the guards secretly know but they tell no one of the royal family about it

Y’know I should probably finish this one before it all gets Jossed to hell this Sunday…

Quite on accident, Emma found herself half in love with a pirate, of all people.

She’d accepted her young widowhood quite graciously, focusing all of her energies on raising her son – and a fine young man Henry was turning out to be. She’d thought nothing else would honor her late husband’s memory than to ensure that their son, the future crown prince, would bring nothing but honor to their family.

But Henry was growing up, as all young boys do, and as he went squiring about and having his own adventures, he needed his mother less. Emma found herself drifting from one activity to the next, bestowing her princess’ favor upon charities and the good people of her kingdom, but something felt… off.

Missing.

Until the night a man vaulted over the railing of her balcony, mistaking her rooms for some treasure vault.

Keep reading

“—K.,” (1/1)

Summary: “He starts leaving notes after that. For anything and everything, if he leaves the house without her knowledge, he leaves a note.”

Notes: This very, very brief drabble is the result of a collaboration between myself and the lovely Svenja (@winterbythesea). Because Killian Jones definitely has gross, beautiful penmanship, and he definitely leaves dumb, dramatic notes everywhere he goes. The freaking handwritten notes in the above photoset were all drawn by and photographed by her, because she is a genius. Small trigger warning for descriptions of a panic attack. Also on Ao3.


+ She wakes up one morning and he’s not there.

Keep reading

You Make Me Better

BASED ON THIS POST by @bleebug and subsequent comments from @thesschesthair and @seethelovelyintheworld Thanks ladies for this inspirational prompt, I had a great time writing this.  Thanks to @laschatzi and @xhookswenchx for read through and beta services!

Also on ao3 and ffnet

CS Neighbors AU where Emma is a nurse and Killian is her definitely-faking-it hypochondriac neighbor who uses illnesses and injuries as an excuse to talk to her.

*~♥~*

Emma had just put her dinner together and sat down on her couch with a nice glass of red wine, and Netflix ready to go. The upside to working in a small private practice was for the first time since attending college, Emma Swan had a somewhat normal schedule. It allowed her peaceful evenings to herself to do what she pleased. Tonight she’d been home from another long day for a mere half an hour and was beyond ready to relax.

“Swan!”

“I should have turned off the goddamn lights,” she muttered.

“Swaaaan!” the interloper persisted, pounding on her door again.

The downside meant a certain pesky neighbor soliciting free medical advice on the regular. Rolling her eyes, she put the television remote and her glass of wine on the coffee table, knowing he wasn’t going to let up.

It wasn’t that she couldn’t be neighborly, but Killian Jones was a menace. The man was a hypochondriac of the worst kind - a fake hypochondriac - some new illness ailing him weekly. She flung her door open just as he was poised to knock again. The breeze it caused carried in his scent, and Emma was olfactorily assaulted by just one of the real reasons Killian Jones drove her crazy.  The next havoc he wreaked on her was the sight waiting before her. Killian Jones, shirtless… again, gingerly propped up against the frame of her door. Last time he’d shown up shirtless he’d insisted that a tiny mosquito bite on his back was a case of the shingles. She wondered if his shirtless visits were nothing more than a chance for him to flaunt his altogether delicious chest: just the right amount of definition and muscle covered by taut skin that pulled as he gesticulated his every word, all overlaid with beautiful black chest hair that descended into a thin trail disappearing under the waistband of his pajama pants.

“Swan, thank the gods you’re here, lass. I need medical assistance.”

Keep reading

Light of All Lights - A Fairy Tale in Five Parts (1/5)

Notes: This fic would not nearly be what it is without @caprelloidea​‘s handholding, encouragement and keen eye. She’s the best, I think you all agree. Based on a picset posted by @bleebug, encouraged by @its-imperator-furiosa​‘s enthusiasm for the idea, and written with @queen-mabs-revenge​ in mind. There is nothing explicitly dominate/submissive about this, but there are borrowed elements of that dynamic.

Summary: When his ship crashes onto a secluded island after a storm Killian “Deckhand Hook” Jones finds himself the unlikely companion to the dark “goddess” who inhabits it. A fairy tale in three parts. 

Rating: Explicit for whoa smut in the later chapters. Some mild violence.

Word Count: 15K+

ON AO3

______

Thunder cracked in the sky above, the entire ship tremoring and shuddering with the force, and not a blink later purple silver lighting flared brilliant white in the crew quarters. The storm was upon them.

Starkey crowed as Hook threw up an arm, his hammock swinging violently, almost pitching him to the deck, the flinch happening before he could check himself.

“Oh no not the raaain,” came a high pitched mocking voice from somewhere in the black darkness of the cabin. Probably Evans. Loud raucous laughter followed, but Hook ignored it, their mocking jeers the least of his concerns as the thunder boomed again, the ship pitching with the force of another wave.

Hook squeezed his eyes tighter, his hand clenched at his side to still the shaking.

It wasn’t that he was scared of storms persay, but bumpy seas always meant no lanterns could be lit, all fires must be extinguished, and the crew quarters were pitch black save for the flashing lighting in the portholes. It wasn’t that he was scared of the dark either, but he definitely preferred the light. He was also quite sure they were all going to die, and like most things in his life, he was terribly afraid of death.

“‘Maybe ‘e’s worried ‘is hook will rust,” came another voice. “Then how’ll he lay about scratching his arse the useless twat?” The laughs came again, the pounding rain at least drowning them out a tad. Thunder cracked once more, and in unison the men all shrieked in mock terror.

“Not me hair!” Came a cry.

“B-b-b-bloody hell,” came another. They laughed again. It was an old game, the same old insults, the same mocking jeers.

Hook continued to ignore them, a decade and then some of practice helping him along, focusing on his breath, on maintaining his place in the swinging hammock as the ship rocked and swayed beneath him. If he fell on his face in front of them again, it would only make it worse.

Keep reading

ab-normality  asked:

songbird + secret relationship/friends to lovers (thank you!)

Fools Like Me by Lisa Loeb

I see your two tropes and raise you a third. So have this friends to lovers/secret relationship/fake relationship fic. I ended up working on this a few days in a row because it was being difficult and begged to be longer than a short exercise. Thanks to @high-seas-swan​ for getting me writing last night and finishing this. 

T | 2k 


When the hostess asked how many in their party Elsa held up three fingers and gave Killian a smirk that made him nervous. She meant well but had an annoying habit of trying to set him up. He could have told her he wasn’t ready to move on from Milah which wasn’t exactly true, he could have told her his heart was engaged elsewhere but that was a little too true, instead, he avoided and made excuses. But she seemed to have found a way around that strategy.

“Love, who is joining us this afternoon?” He asked as they were escorted to their seats.

“Emma.”

“Swan? Why did you invite her?” Killian tried to keep his voice level but he couldn’t help the flutter of excitement. Had Elsa managed to match him with the only woman he cared to be with? Quickly he reined in the thought, Emma was just one of their friends and Elsa had likely invited her as a friend.  

As they sat Elsa gave him a chiding look. “Killian, I know. Emma told me.”

He prided himself on his quick mind and ability to understand people and situations, it was one of the reasons he was a good lawyer, but he was struggling to wrap his mind around what Elsa was talking about.

“Told you what, exactly?”

“She told me about, you know.” Elsa smiled and then leaned forward to whisper. “That you two are dating.”

Killian’s mouth dropped open and his mind scrambled to make sense of a word that, up until that moment, had seemed so common. Him and Swan, dating? It was something he had wanted, had thought about more times than he could count, had assumed wasn’t possible because she saw him only as a friend–not boyfriend material as she had once said. It was something he had put far from his mind as he focused on being the kind of steady friend that she needed but now…

“Dating? She told you that?”

“Don’t look so surprised. She is my best friend, she was bound to tell me eventually. And don’t get mad at her either I kind of forced the issue by springing a blind date on her.”

Suddenly Killian understood exactly what had happened. Emma, not wanting to go on a date but not wanting to say why, had reached for an excuse that Elsa couldn’t push away. And since he spent so much time with Emma Elsa hadn’t thought to question it, she had probably squealed in delight at the idea of her two friends getting together. But why hadn’t Emma warned him, told him she was using him to get out of the clutches of well-meaning matchmakers?  

Keep reading

CS ff: “Multiples”

A/N: @acrobat-elle made this post about wanting a scenario like this. It’s quick and not perfect, but the idea grabbed me and I guess the muses decided that’s what they wanted to write first tonight.

Spoilers for tonight’s episode, so beware.


Killian wakes, in the middle of the night when the house is dark and quiet, the only sounds echoing about the room the sounds of his harsh breathing. Emma is still fast asleep, with no further clue to his turmoil than she knew before, but now she holds the ring he bought for her, which makes all the difference.

He has to tell her. He can’t not tell her. And it has to be now.

Keep reading

Blattella Germanica

Summary:  A quick fix it fic set in a nebulous future after 6.15 where Emma and Killian have been reunited. A way to reconcile the events of those episodes in a way that doesn’t retread old ground and helps better explain behavior. 

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 1600+

Notes:  A belated gift for @gentlesleaze  hopefully this helps make up for some of the salt you received instead. I’m sure I’ll write you something better one day but I hope you like this blurb. 

On AO3

___________


There was something to be said for reunion sex. Explosive tangles of lips and teeth and limbs. Aggressive clawing and slapping flesh, just all consuming need, I miss you, I love you, I’m so happy you’re back. Saying with her body what she couldn’t put into words, I’m sorry spoken in the rough tug of his hair, forgive me painted in teeth along his neck, I’m with you in the rough slide and rasp of skin on skin.

Afterwards was harder. Sweat drying and breath calming and the words wouldn’t come. Goodnight whispered into her hair, slow measured breaths as he gave into exhaustion. Her ring winking mockingly in the light of the moon through the window.

“I love you.”

Keep reading

capitaine-odette  asked:

CS + mutual pining

This is my kryptonite! My brain immediately went to S3 so enjoy some canon divergence where they defeated Zelena but there was no time portal.  

T | 1.2k 


It had been a month and a half since Emma had left Storybrooke to return to her life in New York City with Henry, a month and a half of trying to get their life back to normal after the return of their memories and the defeat of the Wicked Witch of the West, a month and a half of no magic or fairytale characters–except for her parents who she called or texted regularly and two visits from the Evil Queen herself.

Regina’s third visit was scheduled for this weekend and though she usually swept Henry off to some fancy hotel for a few nights Emma wasn’t really in the mood for her sharp looks or pointed questions about life in the city. Emma wasn’t stupid and knew that the only reason Regina had agreed to let her take Henry back to New York was because she assumed they wouldn’t be staying there for long, an idea her parents had no doubt encouraged. They all seemed to think Emma was some unruly teenager and her return to New York was just a phase instead of a thought out and conscious decision made by a rational adult who didn’t want her son burned alive or captured by flying monkeys.

It was a little after five when the knock came and Emma took a fortifying breath before opening the door.

“Hook?”

“Swan!” The pirate beamed, his entire face lighting up at the sight of her, and her heart dropped down to her stomach. It had been a month and a half since she had seen him, all black leather, eyeliner, and dancing eyes; she wasn’t prepared for how good it felt. He had come after her and she knew that she should be angry, because she had explicitly told him not to follow her, but seeing him at her door all she felt was the rush of her blood and an overwhelming urge to smile. She fought the urge and forced her mouth into a thin line. His smile lost most of its brightness and his eyes flicked past her.

“Is the lad ready?” He asked in an almost formal tone.

“Henry? Why would you–?

“Regina didn’t–?“

As if on cue Emma’s phone went off and a big red apple filled the screen. With a huff, she answered.

Keep reading

The Falcon Chisel Affair

So not too far back, @rollyjogerjones came to me with this silly idea of Emma dressing as Old!Hook for Halloween, much to the irritation of her husband. She got to work on the stunning (and hilarious) artwork, and I agreed to write an accompanying fic. Took me a little longer than originally intended, and took a small turn towards some angst briefly, but I hope you all enjoy it all the same!

Amber, thank you so much for putting this idea out into the universe and letting me play around with it for a short while!

(Artwork posted with permission. Please do not repost or crop it.)


Emma paused in adjusting the ratty grey wig on her head and glanced at her husband in the reflection of their bedroom mirror. He was trudging around the room with the same scowl he’d had on his face since Emma had revealed just exactly what she was planning to dress as for Halloween. That had been two days ago.

“You can’t stay grouchy much longer,” she tried to put a bit of childish whine into her tone, but she figured it came off sounding as amused as she felt by his petulance. Silly, ridiculous pirate.

“I carried a grudge for centuries, darling,” Killian muttered as he fiddle with the utility belt around his waist. “Are you really that keen to see how long I can stay grouchy?” His sharp, blue-eyed gaze snapped up to hers quickly and she could see the hint of that dangerous captain lurking in it. It simultaneously made her want to roll her eyes and sent a jolt of excitement coursing through her.

Keep reading

shady-swan-jones  asked:

amanda, if this isn't your time i don't know what is. please give us some sheriff/deputy smut. in your hot, detailed writing

this is me, ignoring my responsibilities, in favor of hot desk sex and bants

speculation and spoilers abound, obvs.

“Not much of a honeymoon,” Emma said between kisses, roughly shoving his leather jacket down his arms.

“And what, pray tell, is a honeymoon?” Killian asked, his hand busily undoing the button of her jeans.

She walked him back until his thighs hit the desk, then pushed him to sit on top of whatever files she’d left scattered on its surface; digitizing the town’s criminal records was going slowly, hampered not only by the usual revolving door of monsters and dwarven antics, but also by the fact that having Killian in the station with her put quite the damper on any desire to do anything but fuck him senseless..

Her husband was extremely distracting.

“A honeymoon,” she said, pausing long enough to strip her shirt off and toss it somewhere towards his desk, “is a vacation for newlyweds. A vacation primarily geared towards having lots and lots of sex.”

Killian hummed, and watched with interest as she unclasped her bra and draped it over one of the lamps. He probably already knew what it was, but one night and several shots of rum had led to him confessing that he liked the way she explained things. “Ah, so a bridal tour without all the pesky need to visit those unable to attend the wedding.”

“Screw them, they can send something off the registry. If we had one. I bet mom made us one.”

Keep reading