Notes: Henry and Killian go shopping for something special. This is unapologetic fluff of the highest order. Captain Cobra! Captain Charming! And now 100% angst-free! (AO3 link)
“No, see, you don’t want to watch them in numerical order.”
Killian squinted at Henry in confusion, dodging around Bashful as they passed him on the sidewalk. “Why wouldn’t I watch them in bloody order? Isn’t that the order the story goes in?”
Henry rolled his eyes in a long-suffering way that seemed to say, once again, I have the terrible burden of educating this pirate in the ways of my people. “It is, but episodes four, five, and six were made first, and it’s universally acknowledged that they were way better than one, two, and three. You could just skip those altogether. If you watch the original trilogy, then you know everything you need to know to see The Force Awakens.”
Just a quick fluffy dabble that popped in my head…
~~~
“Do you ever regret it?”
David asked out of breath as they both collapsed on Killian’s couch after a
hard fought battle with a nasty beast that currently roamed Storybrooke.
He didn’t have to ask what he meant…he knew he was talking
about the choice he made a few years back. The choice that had him now
wincing in pain as he touched his sensitive ribs…the little fucker threw him hard against a parked car when he was trying to distract it. “And miss
all this fun?”
David snorted before picking
up the bottle of the much deserved beer he fished out of their refrigerator and
taking a long swig. “I’m serious,” he
repeated after a moment, watching Killian wince as he took his own sip of
beer. “Do you ever wonder what would
have happened if…”
“I
did step into the light with my brother?”
David
gave a nod. “Yeah.”
“Aye,”
he finally said as he leaned over to put down his beer. “I do, mate…I wonder if I’d be nearly as
happy as I am now.”
David
lifted a brow. “You don’t think you
would be?”
Killian
opened his mouth to answer, but a pitter patter of little feet and a joyous
laughter interrupted him. He turned and
smiled when he saw his princess….his little girl with her raven black hair and
sea green eyes rushing towards him. He
split the cut on his lip when he grinned, holding out his arms and winced out a
laugh when her body slammed into his aching ribs. But he didn’t care…his little miracle was in
his arms. “There’s my lass!”
Emma
gave him a soft smile. “She needed to
make sure her daddy was okay,” she said as she went to her own daddy so she
could heal him.
“I’m
just fine, love,” he said as rubbed her small back with his hand. “Just fine.”
Hope leaned back and gave a little pout as she
touched the cut on his lip. “Hurt.”
“A
bit…maybe if you give me a kiss it’ll be all better.”
She
leaned forward and ever so gently, ever so sweetly she touched her small
delicate lips to his cut, completely warming his heart. “Much better,” he said as he tucked her chin
with the curve of his hook, causing her to giggle.
“Do
you want to help me heal your Daddy?” Emma asked as she left her now healed
father to join them on the couch. When her
little girl nodded with excitement, she smiled as she covered her hand with
hers and placed her tiny hand over Killian’s ribs….she knew that’s where he
ached the most. “Now, remember how I
taught you…think about your daddy and how much you love him….let that feeling
go through you, okay?”
Killian
watched her little brows furrowed in complete concentration as she nodded, closing
her eyes as she let Emma guide her hand to his aches and pains. His heart was full as she watched the glow
between their hands shine and felt the warmth spread throughout his own body as
the pain slowly eased away until it was completely gone.
When he
was fully healed and the light faded, she opened her eyes and grinned at him
with a proud look in her eyes. “Well
done, love,” he said, smiling when she leaned down to sprawl across his chest,
nuzzling her little cheek against his chest, fiddling with his necklace with
her tiny fingers.
He
then looked over at Emma, reaching for her as he pulled her down for a kiss
before she settled next to him. He sighed,
lifting his arm so she could tuck safely at his side and then looked over at
David, who was watching him with a grin.
“No
mate,” he finally said as he brushed his lips against his wife’s hair. “Not nearly as happy.”
A/N: Happy birthday, dear @cat-sophia! You are a lovely CS shipper and I’m happy to know you. Your messages are always so kind and you spread such a nice vibe around! 🙂
You asked for nr. 13 (“Looks like we’re gonna be stuck here for a while.”) and I’m really happy I made it in time for your birthday. 🙂 I hope you like it; I’ve had fun writing it.
This is a CS AU fic. Princess Emma and Captain Hook. Rated T.
Princess Emma had always been a bit adventurous. Too adventurous for her own good, if you asked her parents. But she loved to explore and discover new things, to rather spend her time outdoors than in a stuffy palace room. It was beyond her ability to sit still, no matter how many times her mother had chastised her for her unprincess-like behavior.
And now, with such a juicy piece of information on her hands, she could not possibly ignore it and not act on it. Her mother might get a few white hairs again (Gods know she’d been complaining about this ever since Emma had been five), but it’s a price she decided she was willing to pay. Not to mention that she was willing to sit through the inevitable reprimand if her parents ever found out what she was about to do. And at 17, she had been through her fair share of scoldings.
But honestly, there might be a hidden pirate treasure somewhere close! She had never heard of anything more exciting in all her life. When she had heard the raunchy sailors talk about it in the tavern (the unruly establishment she was not supposed to set foot in), she could barely contain her excitement. They did not have a lot of information, just that the dreaded pirate Blackbeard had been spotted close to the coast several nights in the past few months. And with no obvious reason for his presence in her kingdom, people had started to talk. It was also rumoured that Blackbeard had one of the vastest treasures on the Seven Seas, surpassed only by Captain Hook’s. But since no one had ever seen the two fortunes, the final verdict was yet to be delivered on this particular issue. Just as the verdict of who of the two was the greatest pirate captain to hoist a sail, was still undecided.
“Like I’ve grown a second head.” Emma sighed, flopping down on their bed and enjoying the total silence. It had been a long night, too long; she was looking forward to one of those quiet moments Killian was always going on about that they never really seemed to have.
“Not a second head,” he said softly, sitting next to her and reaching for her hand. He pulled it up to his mouth and brushed his lips across her knuckles. She sucked in a breath; how did he do that, make her feel like she was being courted, even though it had been what, literal years at this point?
“Allow a man the courtesy of gazing upon his lovely bride on the night of his wedding.”
“Okay,” she said softly, and she allowed them a few more moments of silence before reaching for him.
babies and weddings, where’s angsty kristen tonight
“I–” Killian faltered. He should have known. The little lass was crying, her mother shushing and rocking her as she rushed to the kitchen. Killian stood there, feeling useless and like the biggest scoundrel in the land. He knew it, he was terrible at this, he was nothing more than a hurtful pirate, a stupid, unthinking, son of a–
“There, there,” Emma murmured. She reached for a dish towel and wet it in the sink, pressing it to the angry blood on the baby’s cheek. Killian didn’t wish to look but it was as if his gaze was inexorably drawn to his daughter; he wanted to hold her, to soothe her, to apologize for the hurt and to consign himself to a hermit’s life where he could never again harm one he loved, never again.
“No harm done, Killian,” Emma said gently. “Look.”
“It drew blood, Emma,” he muttered angrily, guilt and doubt threatening to choke him where he stood. “I should have gotten rid of this cursed thing the minute we discovered you were expecting, I don’t know why I–”
“Killian,” Emma said, her voice placating. She stepped toward him and reached out, but he shied from her touch. “Killian! She’s fine. This stuff happens. She misses you when you’re gone. She probably saw the hook and just–”
“I’m a terrible father, love.” He stepped away and that’s when little Sophie began to wail again. Useless arse, good-for-nothing bastard.
“Come here,” Emma insisted, and before he could so much as protest, the baby was thrust into his arms. Grateful he at least had his harmless prosthetic in place, he took the baby, his eyes welling with tears at the redness on her cheek. His eyes roved over her skin like a hawk, but Emma was right–there did not seem to be any lasting damage. A mere scratch, wouldn’t even scar (though the thought of his little pirate lass sporting a matching scar to his own cheek scratch did fill him with an odd sort of satisfaction). He breathed easy, his heart still heavy but full and filling more as his daughter let out a soft cooing sound, her tiny, perfect little hand reaching out to tug on his beard.
“Da,” she said clearly, and then he was afraid a tear actually did escape, but for different reasons.
“Of course you’d be her first word,” Emma laughed softly. “Mom wins the pool. And you’re not getting rid of that hook. Just…stop leaving it laying around. Your daughter’s too curious, and too much a daddy’s girl.”
Wordlessly, he nodded, heeding Emma’s words, but he couldn’t seem to muster up the appropriate response.
“Da-da,” he murmured to his heart. “Say it again, love. ‘Da-da.’”
“Da da,” she said, smiling his selfsame smile of smug satisfaction.
When Emma handed him his hook later, he put it up on a high shelf, knowing he’d need to find a better place for it when not in use. Sophie’s eyes had followed his movements, and he knew his intrepid daughter wouldn’t be deterred by something so insipid as height once she was of an age to begin climbing.
Thanks for the tears. I didn’t really need them on the inside. Maybe they will drain out some of the ice cream calories I consumed after I read the fic. Killian self-loathing is one of the things that kills me. Emma reassuring him is another one. It’s like healthy relationship kink. Which I’m totally into. Seriously though. Thank you.
all i can see is the “we meet at the park while my kid is playing and you’re there watching your nephew” AU
she is naturally suspicious of a man lurking at the park with a fucking sword so she yanks his arm behind his back and whispers a threat from behind and just over his shoulder that if he doesn’t remove his weird ass self from the park she’s going to take his weapon off him and use it to make him a eunuch
then a little boy with dark hair and blue eyes comes running up waving a plastic cutlass shouting ARR GET YER HANDS OFF ME UNCLE, YE SCURVY SCUM ARR
astonished, emma releases the guy’s arm and he stumbles forward, laughing
she stiffly says “sorry, i thought you were…” but doesn’t finish and he gets this mischievous twinkle in his eye, putting his hand on the boy’s hair and ruffling it a little. he leans down and asks the boy whether they should accept such an apology. the boy looks up at him and squints and says, “i dunno, uncle lefty. she’s a fierce pirate queen, she’ll run us through if we don’t.” then he runs off whooping, and emma notices he’s running straight toward henry. the boys link arms and run toward the swings, not before henry turns and waves and says, “hi, mama!”
“lefty?” she asks by way of real apology. she sits on a bench and indicates he should join her.
“aye,” he laughs, sounding both proud and sorrowful. “his father was my captain and i his lieutenant.” he pronounces it in the british way, and with emphasis on the first syllable. “liam jr there cannot say ‘leff-tenant,’ so my brother helpfully shortened it to ‘uncle lefty.’ he’s a kind man, my captain.”
“if i didn’t know any better, i’d think junior there was your kid.”
“strong family resemblance.” he pulls out his phone and shows emma pictures of his brother. when he gets to one of the two of them in bright white navy uniforms, emma has to purse her lips to let our her breath. goddamn, but it shouldn’t be as hot as it is.
he finishes by showing her a heart-melting picture of him kissing his newborn nephew’s sweet head, the baby in the arms of a beautiful blonde woman–”elsa, who is far too good for any of us jones devils”. so, knowing so much about this stranger’s family, emma feels obligated to show him pictures of her and henry.
if he notices a total and utter lack of a father in any of the pictures, he is polite enough to keep from mentioning it, but he does show a gratifying amount of interest in one picture henry had taken of her when she wasn’t looking. and the one of the two of them with chocolate milk mustaches.
after a few stilted beginnings, emma finally starts asking questions, finding herself a little bit cautiously maybe just a teensy bit interested. not that she’d do anything about it.
when the boys come rushing over, babbling about pizza, killian beats emma to asking if the two of them would care to join he and the boy at anton’s for root beer and a slice.
“and ice cream after?” henry pipes up hopefully.
neither emma nor killian has the heart to dash the hopes of the two little messy-headed boys, beaming one set of brown eyes and one set of blue in a team effort so effective that emma narrows her eyes, wondering if they were old enough to scheme.
at any rate, killian almost gets them kicked out of farrell’s ice cream parlor when his sword clangs noisily to the floor.
Whee, I love the grumpy-people-won-over-by-wee-animal trope! 🙂
“Oh no!” Emma sternly says to the (okay, fine, pretty damn cute) little furball currently attempting to take up residence on her pillows. “No kittens in the bed.”
The tiny gray kitten looks up at her with such a perfectly confused expression, she almost believes the little thing is pouting at her. “Henry!” she calls.
Henry’s in the bedroom in seconds. He scoops the kitten up and carries her out of the room, murmuring to her in an effort to calm her disappointed mewling. “Come on, Misty, you can stay in my room with me,” he’s saying, and Emma just about has a heart attack.
“No kittens in the bed means yours, too!” she calls to Henry, who just waves a hand at her.
Emma sighs. “That kitten is going to be sleeping in his bed, isn’t she.”
“I’m afraid so, love,” Killian sighs as well. As they climb into bed, Killian’s arm wraps around Emma’s shoulders and she rests her head on his chest. “Although I do have to admit that Misty is a little love. She’s very … what word did Henry use? Snuggly.”
“Oh, Killian, don’t get pulled to the Dark Side,” Emma groans. “She may be cute and she may be snuggly but in about three months, she’s going to be a holy terror. You should probably think about hiding places for all the things you don’t want scratched to shit.”
“Henry says we can get her a scratching post.”
“Henry’s lucky we let him keep Misty at all.”
“The poor little thing was living under the porch, Swan. All we did was bring her inside.”
And right then, something about the poor kitten’s plight reminds Emma of the little girl she’d once been, a little girl alone with the world. A little girl without a home.
“Okay, fine, so none of us would let a tiny defenseless kitten live under the porch,” Emma sighs, swallowing the emotion her revelation raised. “She still can’t sleep in the beds.”
—–
Emma is still asleep when Killian wakes in the morning. Curled up on her pillow right above her head is a tiny gray kitten. He smiles but he also remembers her moratorium on kittens in the bed.
Just as he reaches down to pick up Misty and return her to Henry’s room, Emma shifts in her sleep. He freezes only to have his heart explode with pure love when she reaches her hand up to give the kitten a few unconscious scratches. As her hand stills over one of Misty’s tiny outstretched paws, the kitten just as unconsciously acknowledges the affection with a lick.
A smile once again tugs at his lips. Something tells him that little Misty has found new sleeping arrangements.
A/N : Emma finds out that Captain Swan is the hottest topic in Storybrooke – and yes, people actually named them. Captain Swan fanfic (
~700 words)
Emma jumped as Granny dropped the journal in front of her. Puzzled, she put her cocoa down and grabbed it.
“Is everything okay ?”
“You tell me,” Granny cryptically answered. “Is it ?”
Emma looked down at the paper she was holding and read the title a few times before comprehension set in.
“Captain Swan reunited – when True Love is stronger than death,” she tried out loud to see if it made any more sense. Underneath the absurd title was a picture of Killian and her kissing in front of Granny’s the previous day, followed by smaller images of the entire moment.
Summary: Emma nodded before taking a deep breath and setting her shoulders.
She was clearly shoring up her courage for the question she was about to
ask. “Do you really think we can be happy here? In this house, I mean.”
(or, Emma and Killian make a home together)
Author’s Note: This is what is known as a majorly
insistent plotbunny. I actually had a different version of it all
written out but didn’t at all like the execution of it. I still liked
the idea, so I reworked it into what you see below, which I like a lot
better. Mama Snow and Captain Swan goodness here, ladies and gents!
Feedback is a writer’s ice cream sundae! Hope you like. 🙂
Snow
White had known her daughter for what was in her opinion far too few
years. She could count the number of times over those far too few years
that she had seen her Emma simply pick at her meal on one hand.
Today, unfortunately, was one of those times.
This
impromptu mother-daughter lunch date at Granny’s had been a joint
effort between her and Charming. Their little girl needed to learn to
build some relaxation time into her days. Who better to teach her than
her parents?
As expected, Emma had tried to insist that she
couldn’t go. She had too much paperwork to catch up on and her patrol
was in twenty minutes! When Charming offered to take both her paperwork
and her patrol, she didn’t have an argumentative leg to stand on. So now
here she and Snow sat in a booth across from each other at Granny’s.
Snow at least was eating her lunch. Emma was simply spinning a French
fry in the puddle of ketchup on her plate, her mind seemingly miles
elsewhere.
“Is everything all right, Emma?” Snow asked, trying her
best to sound nonchalant. Though Emma was indeed getting better with
sharing what was bothering her, her first instinct when asked was still
to insist everything was fine, even when it clearly wasn’t.
An
achingly familiar conflict crossed Emma’s features. The young part of
Emma who hadn’t had parents to rely on clearly wanted to speak her mind
but the independent part of Emma wanted just as badly to handle it
herself like she always had. It was an internal conflict Snow hadn’t
seen in a while, a slight shoring up of the walls Snow had been sure
were trampled to the ground.
cshappybeginning 