Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/3237911.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      Once_Upon_a_Time_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Captain_Hook_|_Killian_Jones/Emma_Swan
  Character:
      Emma_Swan, Captain_Hook_|_Killian_Jones
  Collections:
      Black_Swans_&_Red_Hooks
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-01-26 Words: 4412
****** Child of Destiny and Fortune ******
by Wordsmith_Storyweaver
Summary
     After returning to Storybrooke, Emma spends all her time trying to
     make everyone happy... except for the one who matters most: herself.
     Canon divergent after 3.10; Pan never took over Henry's body and
     Regina never had to curse everyone back to the Enchanted Forest.
     (Originally written on 11/18/13).
It had been absolutely pouring buckets all day, so she had exactly zero excuse
for running out of the apartment as she was. The knock-down, drag out fight
she'd had with Neal just an hour ago had been the final nail in the coffin for
playing nice in their relationship. He'd been pushing her to give them another
chance, making her seriously uncomfortable by invading her space and trying to
kiss her. You'll spread your legs like a whore for that fucking pirate, but you
won't let me touch you!
Over the course of their romance, she'd learned to put up with his high-
handedness, his condescending insistence that he knew best. Back then he'd
always been cool-headed though, so she was genuinely stunned at the rage and
hatred that colored his voice instantaneously. He'd gone from zero to furious
in less than a second, gripping her arms and shaking her roughly. He wasn't the
first man to be violent with her, but all of those who had had been running
from the law and all had ended up eating pavement before she handed them over
to the cops. She was hurt and surprised, naturally, but not startled or afraid.
What had shocked her the most about the situation was Henry running into the
room, hands balled into fists. He'd clearly been listening in on their
conversation, watching from the shadowed nook beneath the stairs. Not only had
he come to Emma's defense, but he'd come to Killian's as well. He saved Mom,
and Gramps and Gram, and even Grandpa! And he would never call Mom a name like
that, ever! Now get the hell away from my Mom and get out of our apartment!
Neverland had changed her son, made him act and think an adult even more than
he did before. After verbally and physically throwing Neal out (an impressive
feat for an eleven year old), he had just hugged her for a while and then gone
after his dad. Alone with her thoughts, Emma found herself thinking more about
what he had said before Henry stepped in. She reexamined everything that had
happened since she met Killian Jones, especially every interaction they had in
Neverland that Neal had seen, looking for an explanation. The more she thought
about how relatively platonic they had acted, the more furious she was at what
he'd said; and then she realized that the anger she had felt at Neal's
accusation-painful as it was to hear how little he thought of her-was just as
much for Killian as for herself. He'd been a perfect gentleman here in
Storybrooke, treating her like a lady and "courting" her without any hint of
taking things further. Never once had he pressured her to give anything more
than she was willing to give; rather than making a decision for her, he was
content to just be there for her as a friend. All I want is for you to be
happy, darling.
But every second since coming back home, she had been nothing but miserable.
Neal was pressuring her; Gold was pressuring her; hell, even her parents were
pressuring her (about going back to the Enchanted Forest). Every which way she
turned, someone was demanding something of her. Except for Killian when he
stopped by the station, or saw her at Granny's, or came by the apartment just
to see her and talk to her. In this whole town, it seemed like the only person
who was happy with Emma Swan precisely as she was…
That was as far as her thoughts had gotten when she realized exactly what she
wanted and needed, when all of her walls and the lies couldn't stand up to the
love that was waiting on both sides. She'd run out of the apartment, not even
bothering to put on her shoes or change into something warmer than her yoga
gear. The cold air whipped around her as soon as she opened the door to the
street, but she was already running. The rain stung the exposed skin of her
arms, slapped her in the face, but she just sprinted even faster. Before she
knew it, she was running along the dock where the Jolly Roger was berthed. She
didn't hesitate in her stride once, launching herself over the railing and onto
the familiar deck. From there, it was a short flight of steps and some hallway
to his room.
She can hear his boots against the floor, his keen ears already alerting him to
another presence on his ship. She doesn't even get one knock in, when he pulls
the door open and almost collides with her. "Emma, what's-? You are soaking
wet, love! What's wrong? Is it Henry?"
She starts laughing at the evident worry in his eyes, which changes to
confusion at her outburst. She's finally come to her senses about him, and here
he is worried for her and her family. As if the only reason she would choose to
seek him out is some sort of disaster. "It's raining."
"Yes, I can see that, lass. But why are you drenched? Where's your coat…and
shoes?" He slips his arm around her and pulls her inside, leading her over to
the hot stove in the corner that keeps his quarters warm. He moves as if to
leave her there and go searching for something to dry her off with, but she
catches his hand to stop him.
"I didn't want to take the time to get them and risk it. I realized that I've
been an idiot, and I didn't want to give my fears and issues any chance to talk
me out of this."
"Out of what, Emma?" And then, just like she did in the jungles of Neverland,
she drags his lips down to hers. But her kiss is gentle, shy even, as if she's
afraid that she's missed her chance and he'll turn her away. He brings his hand
to her face, fingers whispering against her cheek as he returns the tender
pressure, lightly flicking her bottom lip with his tongue. When his touch moves
to her hair, he's reminded that she ran through a bloody storm to get here and
pulls back.
"You'll catch cold, love. Let me get you a towel and something dry to change
into." He tries to step away again, but once more she prevents him, lacing
their fingers together. Her careful tug has him turning back to her once more.
Her eyes never leaving his, she lets go of his hand and drags her shirt off
over her head. The wet plop as it hits the floor and the drumming of rain are
the only sounds; they've both stopped breathing.
"Come warm me up?" She asks her question while her hands toy with the waistband
of her pants, but she looks away nervously at the very end. It breaks his heart
to see her this vulnerable, this unsure and uncertain of herself. He closes the
distance between them again, cupping her chin in his hand and tilting her face
up. She crosses her arms over her stomach as if to try and hide now that she's
revealed so much.
"You present me with a particularly uncomfortable quandary, Emma. On the one
hand, there is nothing more I'd rather do than precisely what you're asking of
me. I'd finish what you've started and never once be persuaded to drag your
flesh away from mine. But on the other is my honor as a gentleman. I cannot… I
need to know for certain that this is what you truly want, love. Please, just
let me care for you first?" His voice is soothing and sincere, but no special
ability is required to hear the quiver in his words that signals his wavering
control over his better nature. She nods weakly. His actions in this moment,
his words only confirm her revelation and make her even more confident that her
fears, while very real, are unjustified. He kisses her forehead before heading
to one of the chests built under the windows.
"Now, would you care to explain what possessed you to come see me in such
weather with no thought to your own health and safety?" He looks over at her,
attempting a menacing glare that falls far short of its mark. His rummaging
finally produces towels and one of his shirts, black of course.
"Only if you promise me that you'll let me finish talking before you try and
step one foot out of your door." He hangs the shirt on a peg near the stove,
presumably so that the fabric will absorb some of the heat. He frowns at her
request, sensing a trap or trick somewhere in her words, but he knows he has to
trust her.
"Very well… I promise not to run off into a bloody hurricane before you have a
chance to fully illuminate the reasoning behind your presence aboard my ship."
He adds the last part after a particularly stern glare from Emma, who manages
to look both adorable and intimidating while also impersonating a drowned rat.
He wraps the towel around her shoulders, carefully rubbing her skin dry at her
nod.
"Henry said something today and it made me realize that I can't—that I need
you. The context for what he said is the part you aren't going to like." He
stops, placing the towel around her shoulders and his hand and hook on her
hips. She grimaces slightly at the intensity of his focus, but after a pause to
chew on her lip she continues. "Neal was over at the loft. We were trying to
work out a schedule for when we would each have Henry, but it quickly changed
into him trying to get me to agree to go out with him. From there, it was
pretty much a given that we would end up fighting."
She reaches up to hold his face between her hands, searching his intent gaze
before worrying her lower lip. "He accused me of sleeping with you. More to the
point, he got a little physical and used some choice names for the both of us.
No! You promised me, Killian Jones!"
Her grip on his face tightens the instant she sees the rage flash-boil through
him. "I'm fine. He just grabbed my arms and shook me, and I don't even have a
bruise. That doesn't excuse what he did, but I'm alright… The worst part though
was that Henry was in the loft. I thought he was at Regina's, but he must have
been upstairs or in my parents' room hiding. I've never seen the kid so angry…
But after yelling at Neal to let me go and all but throwing him out the door,
he said that you didn't deserve to be called names any more than I did, because
you had saved all of us and you would never treat me the way he just did."
"Never, lass! I should flay his back for daring to-" Emma places a silencing
finger against his lips.
"Maybe later, now let me finish. After Henry left, I sat there for a good hour
thinking, and that's when it hit me… Ever since we got back, I've been so busy
trying to make everything work out perfectly, to make everyone else in this
town happy. I've been balancing being a sheriff and a daughter and a mother and
so many other things, and all it's done has made me feel like I'm not good
enough. And all my life, that's all I've ever been—a disappointment. Every
single person I have ever loved or I thought loved me has abandoned me, or sent
me away, or left me behind; and that's made me believe that I wasn't enough,
that I wasn't worth it. Until I met you… You told me that you'd win my heart,
Killian Jones, but what you didn't know was that it was already yours. I could
barely admit it to myself at the time and certainly not to you, not there in
Neverland. You did it by loving me for just being Emma, by making sure that you
never left my side. For the first time ever, someone loved me and didn't leave
me; in fact, they believed in me so much, that I started to believe in myself.
"I was enough, for once. And I'm sorry that I let everybody else distract me
and get in the way, but I was still so afraid that you couldn't possibly be
real. We're both so stubborn, and we'll probably fight all the time and drive
each other crazy, but I'd rather fight with you than pretend to be happy with
anyone else. I just hope that you can forgive me, and I'm not too late." She
drops her hands from his face and looks away again, as if shocked by the
powerful emotion of her own words or at least the number of them. Her arms wrap
around her stomach again, trying to hide, but he won't have any of that. He
slips his left arm around her back to pull her body closer and lifts his hand
to her chin. He searches her eyes for the truth and finds the fear and
uncertainty, but also the love he's been yearning for.
"There's nothing to forgive, Emma; I waited for you for more lifetimes than I'd
care to count; I just didn't know it at the time. I'd wait for you-" She pulls
him down to her, pressing their foreheads together lightly.
"I think we've done enough waiting, Killian." He nods, skimming his nose along
hers before kissing her again. This time, their lips meet in the aching
tenderness of the moment, in the realization that destiny has had a hand in
shaping them and bringing them together. Every pain and heartache, every
triumph and joy, has all served a larger purpose. A sense of awe and wonder
fills every brush of skin against skin. When she slips off his coat, she does
so slowly, so that she can marvel at the hard muscles encased in warm
flesh—earned through back-breaking labor and years of honing his body into the
lethal weapon it is today; not the hook, but the pirate.
He may only have the one hand, but he uses it wisely, tracing the curves and
hollows of her bones and skin. She may be a savior and a sheriff, but she's
also a woman—one he adores more every day, with every breath. They break their
kiss as a matter of necessity, when Emma works to rid him of his shirt. She
makes a whimper of protest when he doesn't return to her immediately, but
rather kneels down in front of her. His eyes never leave hers as he presses a
kiss to her belly, just above her navel. His lips trace a path that only he
seems to know, gentle and reverent; and slowly, oh so slowly, he uses hand and
hook to slip her pants down. She shivers at the heat and the chill racing
across her skin all at once as the wet fabric slides past thighs, then knees,
then calves. He urges her hands to his shoulders so that he can help her step
out of them, and again, every touch seems more than flesh meeting flesh.
With a gentle tug from him, the towel falls from her shoulders, and he
continues what he started, warming and drying her skin with every swipe.
"Killian, you don't…"
"Shh… Just let me care for you, love." He places another kiss to the juncture
of her hip and thigh, causing her to gasp in surprise and to groan with desire.
She spears her fingers through his hair, lightly scratching and massaging his
scalp while she plays with the soft, jet waves. It's much harder than it
sounds, allowing someone else, someone you love, to perform such a basic task;
it is profoundly intimate because only your parents or a lover should be
allowed to see and touch you like this, and she has never experienced anything
like it. So she focuses on the feel of his hair, on the way his lips and
stubble cause her skin to tingle as he continues to caress her stomach and hips
with them.
Emma lightly pulls on his hair to get his attention, before her hands drift up
her body and behind her back to unclasp her bra. He lets out the faintest sigh
as the material visibly slackens, just before she slides the straps down her
arms. Puckishly, she lets the garment fall directly onto his face, causing him
to mutter a curse while he bats it away and her to laugh at his distress. But
she's rewarded by the visible rise of heat and lust in his eyes when he finally
sees all of her bare before him. And yet, there's something innocent about that
look as well—an undiluted amazement like a child making a discovery. It's a
look she's heard about from others, read about in paperback romance novels, but
never seen directed at her. It makes her feel cherished, treasured, wanted,
needed.
Killian must read something in her eyes, because when she starts to lean
forward to kiss him, he's already surging up to meet her. He catches her off
balance, stepping up between her thighs and wrapping her legs around his waist
as he stands. He takes a few short steps and then launches her onto the bed;
Emma smiles at him as she crawls backwards to the pillows—a Cheshire cat grin
that's the twin of his own. He watches her stretch contentedly, purposely
writhing her body against the crisp linens for her own stimulation and his,
while he makes quick work of the laces on his trousers. Years of practice mean
that he's just as bare as she is in a second. He catches the slight hitch in
breathing, the yearning in her eyes as she shamelessly looks at him. He leans
forward until his knees and then his hand and hook encounter the bed, catching
her left foot and pulling it up so he can kiss her ankle before resting in on
his shoulder.
Her gaze never wavers, never retreats from his as he presses soft kisses up her
leg; the innocence of those brushes contrast with the desire burning like two
blue flames and the very obvious direction he's heading. When he gets to mid
thigh, his kisses become more flagrant—using lips and teeth and tongue. Emma
can't hold back her tiny whimpers of longing anymore, his every movement
fueling a need that keeps growing. She's trembling and wet—the musky,
quintessentially feminine smell of her arousal almost breaks through his
control. He rests his head against her thigh, gazing up at her across the
length of her body. "The things I want to do with you, Emma Swan… Promise me
something, love; just for tonight at least. No more talk of "one time things"
and no running off on me while I'm asleep. The finer details can wait… But
promise me that for tonight, I don't have to worry that I'll wake to an empty
bed. Please?"
The note of uncertainty, the fear of pain that's laced through his voice no
matter how hard he tried to conceal it, tears at her heart, but she knows that
it's a scar that she put there and one that she needs to heal. She threads her
fingers through the hair on his forehead, brushing it away from his adoring
eyes."I promise. I won't run off, and when you wake up tomorrow, I'll still be
here."
There's no room for doubts between them now. Killian crawls up her body,
kissing along her collarbone and up her neck to her jaw. She lets her hands
roam freely, encouraging the attention being paid to her throat by seeking out
the places he likes most to be touched. It feels so right—to have his weight
pressing her into the mattress and her legs wrapped around him. She slides her
feet along the back of his knees and calves, eliciting a shiver from him. He
sucks her earlobe into his mouth, biting down carefully and tugging; when he
lets go, she returns the favor, letting her tongue play with his earring. She
laughs at him when he growls and swears that he mutters the word pirate under
his breath. But it's her turn to shiver as his fingers skim down the valley
between her breasts, across her stomach, and past her navel. "I wish you could
see yourself now, Emma—so beautiful! I've seen many shores and many wondrous
sights, but here, with just a few candles and your glorious curls tumbling over
my pillows… Nothing in all the realms can compare to you, love. Are you sure
you aren't some vision, some strange goddess sent to ensnare a mere mortal?"
Her heart swells and shatters at the pure, honest adoration in his tone and the
worshipful awe in his eyes. He means every word, every syllable, as if he's the
lucky one; as if he isn't the one who helped fill the cracks in her soul and
fit her broken pieces to his. With so many emotions swirling through her, she
can only shake her head and beg him with her body to never let go. She shifts
her hips against his, letting him know exactly how ready she is for him. He
finally slides one finger inside her, and she can't help the moan that slips
through her throat when she throws her head back. After a few long, sure
strokes, she feels him retreat only to line himself up at her entrance. She
bites her lip and makes the most erotic little mewl, eyes still shut. "Look at
me, Emma."
She shakes her head the littlest bit and smiles. He chuckles at her
stubbornness, then his lips turn up in a smirk of his own. With exaggerated
slowness, he brings his finger to his mouth and loudly sucks her juices off it.
There's no need to fake his moan at the taste of her, but it does have the
effect that Killian had hoped it would. He sees the jade shimmer of her eyes.
He hitches her left leg so it's wrapped securely around his waist, and then
slides the first inch of his cock inside her. Emma's eyes go wide with shock
and pleasure, and her whimper as he retreats is pained. His thrusts are
achingly slow, retreating fully only to slide back in just a little bit further
each time. She keeps trying to squirm, to buck him off and flip him onto his
back so that she can control the pace. Her whimpers become petulant and
frustrated, and she's positively glaring at him now; all of which leaves him
smug and amused. "If there's one thing I've learned as a pirate, love, it's
that unlocking the secrets of buried treasure can be a long, painfully arduous
task."
"Killian!" His grin becomes positively stunning, even if it is laced with
amusement at her expense.
"Mmm…There's a good girl! I love the way my name sounds on your lips—desperate,
wanton. Tell me what you want, darling." He traces her collarbone with playful
nips that he then soothes with his tongue. At the sound of his name, he put a
little more power behind each thrust, went a little deeper. Now that she's back
to her inarticulate, breathy cries, he slows and teases he with shallow pumps
of his hips.
"God, Killian! You! I need you!"Her voice hitches when his mouth goes lower,
and he sucks on her slightly puckered nipple. He drags his teeth gently along
the sensitive flesh, laving it with his tongue. He murmurs nonsense, words of
praise against her skin that somehow resonate through her that she somehow can
understand. Taking advantage of his distraction, she finally manages to get him
on his back. The hooded gaze and knowing smile is pure siren, but he doesn't
fear drowning in her. Emma laces their fingers together and places her right
hand on his ribcage for balance. "I need you, Killian Jones. As long as it's
just us, as long as you never let me go. You're all I'll ever want."
He pushes himself up, wrapping his arms tightly around her and pressing their
chests together. He brushes the hair from her face and seals the bargain with a
searing kiss. "I'll never leave you, Emma love; I'll never let you go, and I'll
never love anything in the world more than you."
===============================================================================
The Enchanted Forest- Nine Months Later
"Just one more push, love. You can do this." Emma's panting breaths terrify
him, even though he knows that they are perfectly normal. He had patiently
waited outside for a few moments only with a nervous Charming whose own wife
had delivered twins just a few months past. The young prince and princess were
asleep in their nursery, blissfully unaware that their older sister was
bringing their niece or nephew into the world just on the opposite end of the
Summer Palace. Snow was sitting on the bed next to them, gripping her
daughter's left hand and whispering her own encouragements. Killian had been
slightly wary (and more than a little afraid) when she had first asked him to
be with her when she gave birth, but after a long and painfully honest
discussion he realized how much his presence was needed and wanted. We made
this baby together; the least we could do is be there together when we meet
them for the first time.
Emma shrieks and gives one final push, her magic leaking out through her
emotions to cause several gusts of wind that flicker with dust motes of power.
She sags back into his embrace with exhaustion as the midwives do their work.
In seconds, a little wailing cry sounds from the edge of the bed, delicate skin
protesting even the gentle touch of carefully warmed wet cloths and then being
bundled up. "It's a girl, your graces!" With Killian's arms supporting hers,
she reaches for their baby. His right hand comes up to brush at the still damp,
dark wisps of hair that crown her tiny head. "Look what we did, Emma! Look what
we made together!"
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