Captain Swan tension borne BECAUSE Killy knows Emma loves him. And his desire for her to acknowledge it. To be honest with him and herself. He understands she’s about as walled-up as a goddamn fortress, and as confident as he is in how she feels, he still wants to hear her tell him. He needs it.
And my headcanon then spirals quickly into them arguing about it and frustration frustration frustration and then finally she just fucking UNLEASHES and pours it all out, her entire heart. and it staggers and shatters him.
Annnnnnd then sexytimes, natch.
Word Count: 7,719 (THIS IS YOUR FAULT YOU TWO)
Rating: F is for Feeeeeeels and S is for Smutty Smut-smut
No one makes me crazy, like you do
And no one fixes breaks, like you do
Like you do, like you do
She remembers the first time he says her name — the way it rolls off his tongue in his lilting accent as he tells her how they make quite the team. She remembers the way he breathes it as he pleads with her to look at him, to use her super power on him. She remembers how he reverts to using her last name, distancing himself in mind and heart, and she remembers when it all changes — when he starts saying it like a prayer, like his last ray of hope, like his second chance.
It doesn’t matter which he uses because she is both — his Emma, his Swan — but if she’s going to be honest, she prefers the latter. She likes how it falls from his lips like a benediction, how he brushes it against her mouth and every inch of her burning skin, how he murmurs it into her ear or growls it in frustration when he’s upset. It’s the first thing in her life she had ever chosen for herself and it seems important, symbolic, that he — another choice she’d made — call her by it.
He sits on the edge of her bed while she stands between his legs, resting her forehead against his as her fingers tangle in the hair at the nape of his neck. His hook and hand travel lazily up her sides — molding her, warming her — and she sighs into his mouth.
“You need a haircut,” she tells him.
“What for?” he wonders, and she can feel his smile caress over her lips. “It gives you less to hold on to.”
Her hands travel down the strong slopes of his shoulders, fingers digging pointedly into his muscled arms. She hums appreciatively and her mouth curves up. “I don’t know, I think the rest of you works just as well.”
“Is that so?” he chuckles, and the low and throaty sound makes the pull to him intensify, makes her inch closer until her body is pressed into his.
She nods, bumping their noses affectionately together. “Mmhmm.”
His breath dances enticingly with hers, mingling in the space between them, and she feels the heat starting to build low in her belly. Her eyes close at the feel of his thumb brushing along the underside of her breast through her t-shirt and she gasps at the jolt of pleasure that shoots down her spine and straight to her core. The anticipation makes her stomach clench, makes something akin to a whimper spill from her mouth as he changes paths and moves his hand away — damn it — away and around to her back to twist a lock of her hair around his finger.
“Killian,” she whines.
The Maze Runner // September 19, 2014
I know we’re going to mess up, and that’s just the way it goes. But I just hope I don’t mess it up too bad.