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whimsicallyenchantedrose · 3 years ago

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Fridays—Chapter 168: The Analysis

Pairing: Captain Swan

Summary: A series of unrelated, fluffy one shots featuring Killian Jones and Emma Swan and the relationship that makes us all swoon. Will contain both canon and AU stories. My contribution to Operation Rainbow Kisses and Unicorn Stickers (aka, my attempt to drown out the season 4 finale angst with ridiculous levels of fluff.)

Other Chapters: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17) (18) (19) (20) (21) (22) (23) (24) (25) (26) (27) (28) (29) (30) (31) (32) (33) (34) (35) (36) (37) (38) (39) (40) (41) (42) (43) (44) (45) (46) (47) (48) (49) (50) (51) (52) (53) (54) (55) (56) (57) (58) (59) (60) (61) (62) (63) (64) (65) (66) (67) (68) (69) (70) (71) (72) (73) (74) (75) (76) (77) (78) (79) (80) (81) (82) (83) (84) (85) (86) (87) (88) (89) (90) (91) (92) (93) (94) (95) (96) (97) (98) (99) (100) (101) (102) (103) (104) (105) (106) (107) (108) (109) (110) (111) (112) (113) (114) (115) (116) (117) (118) (119) (120) (121) (122) (123) (124) (125) (126) (127) (128) (129) (130) (131) (132) (133) (134) (135) (136) (137) (138) (139) (140) (141) (142) (143) (144) (145) (146) (147) (148) (149) (150) (151) (152) (153) (154) (155) (156) (157) (158) (159) (160) (161) (162) (163) (164) (165) (166) (167) (169) (170) (171) (172) (173) (174)

(ao3) (ff.net)

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Oh no! Oh no, no, no, no, no! This could not be happening!

Emma Swan, twenty-two year old senior at Misthaven University stared in horrified disbelief at the last document accessed on her laptop. How was she ever going to live this down? How was she ever going to show her face in Music History 101 again? Oh gods, if there was any justice in the world, any justice at all, the earth would open up and swallow her whole; at least that way she’d never have to face Killian Jones again.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

20 hours earlier

Emma sat at her desk in the cute little off-campus apartment she shared with her best friend Mary Margaret Blanchard and stared at the open Word document on her computer. Her end-of-term analysis paper on Mozart’s symphonies for her music history class was due tomorrow, and she simply could not focus.

How was anyone supposed to focus on silly things like sonata allegro form or the composers of the Classical era when it was being explained by hot-as-hell twenty-five year old graduate student Killian Jones?

When professor Belle French had been forced to abandon their class mid-semester for her maternity leave when her son Gideon decided to make his appearance a month earlier than expected, her grad assistant Killian had taken over the class, and somehow music history suddenly became simultaneously Emma’s favorite…and most dreaded subject.

You see, Emma Swan had a problem. She’d been drawn to Mr. Jones from the first moment she stepped into the classroom. Saying she was “drawn to him” honestly felt like a massive understatement. That first day, when she took her seat and her eyes met his across the room, it was like…it was like magic, as stupid and cliche as that sounded.

There was something about Killian, something she couldn’t explain. It was more than just his good looks (and gods did he look good with his tousled inky black hair, his sea-blue eyes, his artful reddish scruff and his penchant for leather). It was as though they understood each other; as though they were kindred spirits or something.

How she knew all of this before the man even opened his mouth and nearly made her swoon with his sexy accent, she couldn’t say. Was this what love at first sight felt like?

Emma had hardly led a happy, pampered life. She’d had to fight and claw for every single thing she’d ever had in life, and she understood reality. She lived in the real world, a real world where fairy tales didn’t come true, where things like love at first sight were not a thing.

And yet as the semester wore on, Emma’s infatuation didn’t fade. If anything it grew the more she got to know Killian.

If she didn’t know better, she’d swear he felt it too. It was not at all unusual for her to look up from the notes she was taking during one of Professor French’s lectures to find his eyes on her. As soon as he saw her looking, he colored and glanced aside, but she couldn’t help but wonder just how long he’d been staring before she noticed his attention.

He’d always been professional; he’d never made any advances or otherwise acknowledged the connection between them, but still it was there, and Emma couldn’t help wondering what would happen when the semester was over and he was no longer her teacher–when there was no professional barrier between them.

All of this swirled through her head and her heart as she sat down at her laptop, knowing that she simply had to finish her analysis paper. It was due tomorrow, and she barely had a start on it.

Still, how was she to concentrate on Mozart when all she could think about was the grad assistant who’d lectured about him the day before?

Maybe if she just…wrote it all out, got it down on paper, she could finally put it from her mind and actually get to the business of finishing her term paper.

Why not?

Emma simply began typing, waxing poetic about his luscious hair, and the way she wanted to run her hands through it as she pulled him in for a kiss. The way she could get lost in the cerulean depths of his eyes. The way her heart rate spiked when he turned toward the blackboard and she saw just how snugly his black jeans hugged his perfect backside. She spent a full three paragraphs attempting to put into words the way the butterflies danced in her stomach when he looked at her and the way her breath caught whenever he began speaking. She went on and on about how much she longed to taste those perfect lips, to determine if they were as soft as they looked, to find out if the brush of his scruff against her cheek as he deepened the kiss would be as sensual as she expected. She described in detail the way his deep, accented voice shot straight through her and made her feel as though she were melting into her seat as she listened.

By the time she’d gotten it all out of her system, Emma was half convinced she’d missed her calling. Maybe she should have become a poet.

Still, after just north of an hour of providing a very detailed analysis of Killian Jones, his many perfections, and all the things his very presence did to her on a daily basis, Emma knew she couldn’t put it off anymore. She simply had to get serious and actually write the paper she was supposed to write.

And so, she dutifully highlighted her analysis of her graduate assistant and deleted it, replacing it with a rather dry, uninspired analysis of Mozart’s use of instrumentation and form within his many symphonies.

By the time Emma put a period on her final sentence, she was satisfied with what she’d written. She was no musicologist, and she was sure she hadn’t made any observations that hundreds of music students before her hadn’t made countless times, but it was a solid essay. It ought to be enough to earn her a decent grade in music history this semester.

After a quick proof-read, Emma emailed her analysis to Mr. Jones and then closed her laptop before hopping in the shower to prepare for another exciting day of classes.

Her music history class was the final class of the day, and Emma felt her cheeks redden as she stepped into the classroom that afternoon, remembering all the things she’d written about Killian. If he ever found out the half of what she thought about him, she’d probably die of embarrassment. Thank the gods for the delete key.

As class progressed, Emma noticed Killian’s eyes on her more than normal, and if she wasn’t mistaken the looks he was giving her were…more intense, more heated, the color staining his cheeks as she glanced up to see him looking even deeper. It was odd…and it certainly did nothing to quench the fire within her every time she looked at him.

His unusual behavior puzzled Emma, and she was distracted as she had dinner with Mary Margaret later that night. What had gotten into him? Was she so transparent that he knew what she’d been writing about him? Was she that much of an open book to him?

Oh gods, she hoped not!

After dinner, Emma booted up her computer, determined to put her hot grad assistant from her mind and actually get some homework done before tomorrow.

It was then that she saw it; the last document she’d worked on, her music history analysis paper.

Emma didn’t know what possessed her to glance over it before moving on, but when she did, her stomach dropped to her toes. Something must have gone wrong. Maybe she hadn’t saved her final draft. Maybe the document had reverted to an autosaved earlier form. She didn’t know; all she knew for sure is that somehow her (kind of mediocre; Emma had no illusions of grandeur) paper on Mozart’s symphonies was gone.

In its place was her epic ode to the many perfections of Graduate Assistant Killian Jones, an ode that had evidently been submitted to the man himself.

She’d never be able to show her face in class again.

Notes:

–I really didn’t intend to write another fluffy addition to this anthology yet. My story Until the Stars Are All Alight, badly needs to be finished, and I was determined to turn all my writing attention to that next, but the muse wants what the muse wants.

–This story (which will, of course, be continued in the next chapter. We can’t just leave it with Emma’s embarrassed realization of what happened!) was inspired by a conversation in Discord the other night about a Tumblr post about how much easier it is to write fanfic than scholarly papers–and the fact that you can’t just write gratuitous smut scenes in scholarly papers. The discussion was about what it would be like if someone did–namely, if Emma wrote an explicit scene about her professor Killian. Now, as you know, I almost never write smut, so I didn’t quite go in that direction (although I didn’t go into specifics about what exactly Emma typed, so if you want to imagine she wrote a thoroughly detailed sex scene between them, I won’t stop you), but the general concept made my muse wake up and sniff the air.

–Further note: I really did have to write a paper on Mozart and his symphonies for one of my music history (I think it was music history? I can’t really remember now) classes for my music degree. It was brutal because 1. It had to be 20 pages long. 2. In it we needed to analyze the symphonies, but there were only a limited number of copies in the university library which resulted in me not getting the materials I needed until really close to the due date…which in turn resulted in my one and only true all-nighter as a college student as I ended up having to write the entire paper in one night; and 3. My professor was very definitely NOT Killian Jones (although that might be a good thing. I definitely did NOT have a crush on my very demanding music history prof, so there was no chance I’d write something like that to her and submit it by mistake).

–Up next: the aftermath of the accidental assignment submission.

NEXT CHAPTER-->

#cs friday fluff #cs ff #fluffy fridays #professor killian/student emma ff #cs au ff #my fanfiction

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nanakah · 3 years ago

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hot take: life's difficult for tsunderes (the long version)

Behold, here is the long version of my "life's hard when you're both tsundere" Ishimiko posts.

So I've been talking it over with a friend (*waves at @miko-ishi *) and we concluded, given Aka's old interviews and the lack of an OVERLY TALKATIVE narrator for the Ishimiko side of the story, that it's very likely if there are ever complaints about the pairing's pacing or its existence in general, Aka could simply go "read again lol".

That said...

Today's hot take is: Ishigami and Miko are both spiteful tsunderes. HOWEVER the suble catch is - Ishigami was actually receptive to being nicer to Miko at first when she joins the stuco, then discreetly begun to retaliate her micro-agressions when his attempts at being kind to her backfired.

TL;DR: You both have wanted the same thing, you know...

I didn't notice it the first time I read the manga and honestly believed Miko's words during Christmas to be true and thought "yeah, surely if he had been nicer you'd have reciprocated too". Then the more I re-read it, the more I realized that wasn't quite the case.

Bottom line is, both are dumbasses.

(lots of fun rambling ahead)

IMO The last straw for Ishigami was Miko not being able to say a single good thing about him during the Operation Friendship game (chapter 103) when asked about it.

He was actually vulnerable there/being patient with her attacks up until that chapter and admitted to having observed her when asked by Osaragi (Saying Miko's serious, smart, honest), but then she publicy berates him once again (and not because she COULDN'T think of a compliment - think about it, she had his cooking not even 10 chapters prior. She was just so socially stunted she couldn't realize how much it would have been good for her there to let go of her pride, shame and grudges to seriously let him know how much she wished they could be like they used to in middle school again and that she's always believed his potential. )

And then we know what happens next. The very first swallow's cowrie chapter. They still are always around each other after that, but now unfortunately for Miko, Ishigami is attempting to move on by redirecting all the love he's dying to shower someone to senpai. Just as she was beginning to warm up to him, which culminates at the Culture Festival after he "confesses" to Tsubame and accidentaly draws her close attention on him for the following 3 months. WONDERFUL.

Their strenght AND their downfall is communication. Because they have no filter and understand the other very well they can make huge leaps in being closer (they have no sense of boundaries, to outsiders it surely often seems like they're more than just friends) through that "honesty", but that ALSO means they're not honest enough on the positive and vulnerable side of their feelings.

Some of their apparent "honesty" is actually just unfiltered anger or frustration. Being honest or truthful doesn't always mean saying everything in your mind. It's natural and human to have selfish or mean thoughts you shouldn't voice to a loved one.

Take their dance argument as an example of two tsundere's being stubborn in motion and making a problem harder than it should.

They aren't actually being that petty or either of them are wrong! They're just approaching it the wrong way! Looking for "right" and "wrong" in an argument for relationships is the wrong thing to do, it should be about reaching a compromise. Consider what is likely REALLY going on in their minds:

Miko's mind, probably: I dressed up just for you and was looking forward to seeing you look handsome! I know for sure you thought your previous crush was incredibly beautiful, but I'm insecure if I can live up to your likes and expectations! I have even worn my hair down and a more form fitting dress than I usually ever do! You dressed up even for the Christmas party! Don't you care about me or looking good for me? How come you invited me but put no effort? Do you not want to be here? You are SUPPOSED to dress up in a place like this!

Ishigami's mind, probably: I looked up the dress code because I CARE about being here and didn't want to embarass YOU or make a fool of myself by overdressing! What if I accidentally made a fool of you by showing overly dressed up and nice and you didn't? It's just a social dance event and not prom or a wedding. I had no idea you'd actually go out of your way to look pretty for me because I'm just some loser who invited you last minute and up to this point you never seemed like you'd put effort for me in particular. I thought you hated my guts for real 5 chapters ago. I couldn't even show up to this party out of embarassment and social anxiety last year. I'm scared of messing up with you because I care for you and it took a lot of guts to even show up in public by your side because YOU are actually pretty/accomplished academically and I've been an outcast loser all this time. I can't make it that obvious I'm lowering my guard to you.

Think I'm exaggerating or this is all headcanon? It's not hard to provide reasonable backup to any of the things I extrapolated about them.

And the only real problem there? Both were too distracted in their heads by "tee hee I got the invite" and never discussed the details. A single "Are you dressing formaly for it?", "Yes", "Cool, so will I" would have avoided it. But that's the thing Aka is showing, some mind games are good and fun and necessary for a relationship, but communication is key.

They're still learning to express their sweeter and more vunerable side ("DERE") to each other. It's particularly hard for them because they have both been VERY wounded from being sweet and vulnerable, both by each other and by other people.

Being openly sweet means rejection hurts tenfold, so they're extremely cautious about being too understanding, too caring, speaking their mind, etc, because IN THAT CASE, not having your expectations met means hurting.

Considering the moment they start being closer again in high school, at the stuco, is Miko at fault for Ishigami becoming more agressive towards her? She is, actually LOL.

Does that mean I'm saying it's all on that Miko their relationship soured? Of course not. Ishigami handled their last meeting before his suspension badly and neither side ever apologized for it.

There's also the fact Ishigami is KNOWN FROM HIS INTRODUCTION to often be bad at delivering the proper tone for his advices/comments and being often as preachy as Miko. He is well meaning, but he accidentaly sounds condescending to her, which makes her even more defensive:

If he also weren't so silly/spiteful/delusional about wanting no reward and just admited to caring about her a lot ("hey your earbuds' sound was leaking and I didn't want you to be embarassed by me or others. Sorry I failed." would have sufficed. BUT NOPE. BE ANGRY ALL BY YOURSELF THAT SHE DOESN'T APPRECIATE YOU FOR YOUR ~SECRET~ ACTS OF HELP AND BENEVOLENCE AND/ WORD IT THE WORST WAY POSSIBLE BECAUSE YOU'RE SEETHING) things would have been much, much easier.

That fundamental misunderstanding is the reason the "I wish you were nice to me like you are to Tsubame" scene exists.

Miko has no idea he was being jealous/overprotective of her out of a repressed/badly manifested affection. She doesn't know just how stupidly awkward he can be voicing his opinions. She honestly thinks he was being condescending to her, while in his own way, he WAS trying to actively get closer to her and shower her with attention.

Miko was agressive to Ishigami upon joining the stuco as a defense mechanism. Both have been misunderstanding each other's best intentions.

Ishigami had been incredibly rude to her the last time she tried reaching out to him at the LOWEST TIME OF HER LIFE (remember how she says the Sutera SAVED her), and up until that point it's implied their interactions in high school weren't super friendly either (it was the cop and criminal act and her calling him a delinquent even, and time will tell whether he was doing that in purpose to keep her talking to him IN ANY SORT OF WAY AT ALL instead of indifference if Aka ever graces us with another flashback)

So yes, it's interesting that the dance lampshaded how they still are fighting over smaller issues. They're working it out, otherwise having them discuss their DEEP ROOTED TRAUMA would be too much of a leap writing-wise. And I do expect them to bicker forever - but just get better and better at solving their problems in meaningful ways over time.

Their relationship got as damaged as it did because both dumb tsunderes were too immature at first to admit to their faces how deeply they have cared for each other and actually put effort into it to this day.

If they had supported/believed in each other OPENLY from the start and apologized for the note they left off on middle school, they'd have reached an understanding far earlier. They STILL haven't talked it over as of like RIGHT NOW (ch 240+)

Tsubame was the much needed element of chaos that changed the status quo between them, because then Ishigami had an outlet for his positive feelings and could deal with Miko's small "rejections" better, meanwhile Miko kept getting mostly the spiteful side of his feelings for her.

If they couldn't grow by themselves, Tsubame was indeed the needed third element to challenge their previous certainties and develop the best of them. Her role in the story is largely transformative for Ishigami and Miko, Aka never dwells too long on her aspirations or thoughts as a character. She is a plot device, but I promise I say this in a kind and not derogatory tone - she is a nicely fleshed out one.

( it's always entertaining to remember Maki could smell the triangle shenanigans and the stench of unhappy tsunderes from miles)

It's obvious senpai's influence helps Ishigami go down the road of self improvement and care even when it's not all about "earning the girl" anymore (post rejection he handled it surprisingly well and found out he can ENJOY taking care of himself). But I don't think we acknowledge enough she was a positive influence on Miko, too. A lesser discussed detail is that Miko's line picture has always been that of a small bird and te keychain that ends in her hands via Ishigami at the CF was originally from Tsubame. They have a link between them, and Tsubame even when jealous or worried about Miko as competition, never mistreats her and is always kind.

Their love triangle is one of the most benevolent I've seen in romance manga. Tsubame is genuinely nice to Miko and Miko, even when she's jealous or hurt or going insane from not having her feelings "returned", doesn't resort to berating or harming her. Tsubame is someone Miko can afford to learn from because she is an influential and successful leader to students in the opposite end of Miko's initial rule/justice enforcing method: kindness and support, rather than overt authority. A smile instead of a scorn.

oho, you see that left eye? AND THAT LYING BITCH SAYING HE DOESN'T HOPE FOR RETRIBUTION, JUST LIKE MIKO DOES. BUT THEY DO HOPE FOR IT, AND THAT'S WHAT GENERATES THEIR FRUSTRATION.

That's right, in an alternate universe you can solve their whole arc in two volumes or less. I'm certain Ishigami has been at the point we see him in chapter 238 for a while LOL

Sometimes we joke around Miko was the one digging her own grave for Christmas and yep, that she did. It goes both ways though - once she begins thawing CONSIDERABLY to Ishigami and getting all shoujo bubbles on him, he is getting "invested in his investment" on his shallow crush on Tsubame and steels himself for any progress with Miko.

That's likely why he's so mad when she acts suggestive while her arms broken. Notice he's never actually mad to buy her stuff or carry her things and such, no matter what he says (remember he too is a tsundere). But the minute Miko plays it up and goes "aaaaah~" or "you'll feed me won't you?" he gets super aggravated in a "god stop leading me on, I'm already putting my time and energy elsewhere now" way.

This one gets a bit lost in translation, but even his reaction in the "I love you" game around that time is very telling of his soft spot for Miko.

A curious detail is that while Chika uses "Aishiteru" for Miko to surprise her and "Suki" to Ishigami, Ishigami uses "suki" for Chika and "Aishiteru" to Miko only. And the catch here is that her response is completely nonchalant. She barely says a "like" and he still reacts in shambles. That little approval of hers gets him nearly as nervous as Chika's elaborate trick to say a "Suki".

Also, his reaction in Valentine's? Please. He's over the moon happy about her "giri"/friendship chocolate, no other chocolate made him nearly as radiant.

(they're way too cute, I just can't deal with them)

Yeah, it was never about him, really. If there is a single thing Osaragi was right about, it's Miko having bad timing.

The whole time it was about Miko being the real "impossible girl" in Ishigami's eyes.

That's why Chika asking Ishigami "What about Miko-chan?" in 206 is just a horrible misunderstanding on Miko's end. It's not like "there's no way that would happen" because of him, he thinks it's her who could never look his way...until NOW.

You almost had it the speedrun way, Miko-chan! Almost.

JUST ROMCOM THINGS.

so FROM NOW ON, whenever someone goes"BuT IsHiGaMi FeLl FOR mIkO sO sUddEnLy AFteR thE ConSole Chapter" I hope you remember my ramblings and think "nope, it's just that Miko finally raised her dere stat enough. Read the manga again with that in mind".

tl;dr: Humor aside, Miko and Ishigami have always been super compatible and would naturally have grown closer romantically anytime if they interacted for long enough, they just were hopelessly immature and victims of their circunstances.

Now to pray we have at least a minimum of 20 chapters left and at least some decent screentime in store for them. I HAVE A MIGHTY NEED FOR FLIRTY ISHIMIKO OR FOR THEM TO FIGHT WITH OVERT UST. PLEASE AKA FUEL THIS OFFICE LADY'S DREAMS

#long post #ishimiko #meta #overanalyzing #THEY ARE SO CUTE LOL #im very much into tsunderextsundere yes #but if the dere and tsun dont allign for each part #this is what you get yes #Aka I need to talk I want 2 volumes of them #plz ill pay you #sorry for cluttering the tag i have a migthy need to babble #i gave up proof-reading but pray it's readable #ishimiko spoilers #PHEW now i have nothing more to add unless we see more of them....probably #like my disclaimer for the tl;dr says i'm calling them tsunderes to sum it up but #it's in no way just because of it LOL #if my pages and pages of meta are any indication #they're victims of their imaturity and circunstamces

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practicingmedicine · 3 years ago

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Practicing Medicine: Chapter Two

(+)2

LOADER V1. 1

EXEC VERSION 41.10

32K RAM SYSTEM

16600 BYTES FREE

HOLLOWTAPE LOADED: “THE-END-OF-THE-WORLD”

INITIALISING….

SUCCESS!

>STATUS

Battery Level: 90%

Wireless Signal: (?)

Operating Temperature: 92F

> HEALTH

BP: 120/90

SPO2: 100%

Temp: 98.5F

RR: 19

HR: 70

> CLIMATE

Current Temperature: 103 F

Atmospheric Pressure: 753 mm

Background Radiation: 0.231 RAD

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I had never felt so good in my entire life.

I’d had moments of triumph before, but nothing like what I was feeling as I walked home from Mrs. McBain’s house, my white coat trailing behind me, damp hair blowing in the wind. I was riding high in the saddle!

I’d saved a life. Like, an actual, human life! Everyone had been so happy with me- suddenly, I wasn’t the weird retard across the street, the creepy kid who was always pissing himself over loud noises and sitting alone in the town square. I was a doctor, and I was to be expected, and cheered, and listened to… It was like all my fantasies had come true! I was the coat wearing, slow-walking, calm and collected badass that I’d always promised myself I’d be!

Well, that wasn’t totally true. I’d been a little shaky there for a minute, and there were things I could have done differently, but I hadn’t shut down like I thought I might! That was real progress from the days when a dog barking at me could make me curl up and sob.

I didn’t bother ringing the doorbell as I threw open the door to my home and waltzed into the main hall, where mom was waiting for me. I didn’t even flinch as she came up and hugged me, because I was already throwing my arms around her myself. She looked surprised.

“Momma!” I shouted, and pressed my head into her shoulder. Even though I was 17 years old, I was still a lot shorter than her, because she was tall for a woman and I was knee high to a lamb- only five foot four at the time. It usually made me feel sort of self conscious, but right now, I didn’t care. “I saved Mr. McBain today! Beagle accidentally shot him while they were doing target practice, and he hit his femoral artery, so I had to-“ My mom shushed me.

“I know! Trust me Ikey, I know! I heard all about it from Mrs. McBain!” There was a pause. Mom ran her fingers through my wet hair. “God I’m so proud of you, Ikey! I was scared when I realized you’d gone, but I knew that you’d be alright. I just knew.”

A wave of guilt washed over my heart as I realized that I hadn’t checked with mom to tell her where I was going. She’d probably looked for me in the town square, and then heard a single gunshot in the hotel…

“I’m fine. Sorry I didn’t tell you where I was heading,” I said. I was still pressing my head against mom’s shoulder, because even after a shower and lunch, I felt completely drained.

“It’s okay. You’re home, you’re alive, Mr. McBain is alive… Everything is alright.” Now that I looked at her, mom’s skin was all flushed, and she looked awful sick. She’d looked old for years, but today she looked real frail. Some combination of stress and that long illness she’d gotten way back when, I guessed. I hugged her even tighter, then let her go. We stepped away from each other.

“Well, why don’t you go to your room and unwind- maybe you can play something on the computer, listen to the radio, rest a little…” I stopped smiling. That was how mom liked to preface bad news. Now I was all tense, waiting for the other shoe to drop…

“And then we need to talk about something.”

I knew it! “Is this about me leaving? Cause, I normally wouldn’t go like that, but it was an emergency, see, and I haven’t hurt myself in years-!”

“It’s not about that,” my mother said, gently. I slumped a little. “Oh, I shouldn’t have said anything. Come on- go to your room, relax, and I’ll talk to you in an hour. Alright?” I didn’t answer. I felt like crying, and if I talked, it would make it worse.

“Alright Ikey?”

“Okay,” I said, and walked to my room. I shut the door gently behind me, and then sat down at my desk, legs hanging off the end of the chair. I took my pip boy off, plugged it into the computer and then stared at the screen for a while. I hadn’t gone back to my room after answering the emergency phone call, so the “Game Over” screen of Red Menace was still glowing in my absence.

I turned off my computer; I wasn’t in the mood for games now. I put my headphones on instead, plugged them into the radio, and tuned it to the 70’s music station. I had to wade through a few seconds of static before I got the right frequency.

‘We-are-family!’ came the voice in the headphones. I had a soft spot for Disco, so I cranked up the volume a bit. “And I got all my sisters with me…”

Once I was satisfied with that, I opened my drawer and pulled out an old picture of Father that I kept there, that I liked to consult in situations like these. He looked a lot like me- Thin, blonde haired, always wearing his Followers of the Apocalypse Coat. My coat, now. But, where I was short, round faced, and weak, father had been the opposite. The features of his face were sharp and defined, and he had a well-groomed beard. He never wore glasses.

I closed my eyes. Even though he’d been all those things, that wasn’t how I remembered him. I remembered him because he was fair, and honest, and loving in a different way than my mom. Patient, is what he was. Even back when people thought I was a retard, father raised me like he would any son- he taught me to be good, to resist tyranny, and to never, ever hurt anyone, no matter how bad they were. When I showed an interest in medicine, he taught me that, finding ways around my inability to read and write and do complicated math. He taught me how to use a calculator, how to use simple tricks to solve complicated problems, and all those sorts of things.

I really liked my father. I’d say that I wanted to live up to his memory, but I knew I couldn’t ever do that. Everyone in the Mojave knew about Lucas Saller and all the folks he’d saved, and I had some problems that he didn’t. Instead, I tried my best to do what would make him proud anyways. “ Find a way ,” he’d told me, and so I always did.

There was a knock at my door. Quickly, I shoved the picture back in the desk drawer and shut it. I tried to keep a steady voice as I said, “You can come in.”

The door creaked open. Mom walked in the door frame- a picture of majesty, in my eyes- and sat down on the bed. She took a long, deep breath.

“Please take those headphones off,” she said. I plucked them off my head and sat them down on the desk. “Thank you.” As an afterthought, I bent over the desk and turned off the radio. I heard the headphones crackle and then go silent.

“Now, I know I said I’d wait an hour, but I got the feeling that I was just stressing you even more by waiting…” It was true. I would have probably exploded if I had to wait an hour. “Is it okay if I talk to you now?”

“Of course!” I snapped, words firing out of my mouth just a little too fast. Mom smiled.

“Oh Ikey…”

And there was that weakness again- the way her shoulders slumped, her green eyes glossed over- I looked away. “You know, since your father died, you’ve grown up so much.”

I stared at the ground. “Not really,” I said. “I’m still smaller than anyone else I know.” Well, not everyone. I was taller than Mr. Nash’s wife now, but not by much.

Mom shook her head. “You know that’s not what I mean. When you walked in through the door today, all happy and composed, I saw a man in you. And, it was just… It was crazy, to think that you’re this grown up! That I can trust you to go out on your own, and deal with this, this insane , stressful situation, and then come back like it was all nothing.”

I smiled a little at that, and let myself look up from the ground. “Remember when I used to bite people for touching me? How old was I last time I did that, ten?”

“Thirteen,” my mother replied, sounding solemn. I raised an eyebrow.

“Really? Was that before or after…”

“Before,” she said. I nodded to myself. Before father died. “I think that it sort of… forced you to grow up a little. Or a lot, just based on today. And I guess I saw it before then too. You did ten years of learning in three.”

I shook my head. “It didn’t force me, I made a choice to be stronger after that. Nothing done forced me to grow up,” Mom frowned, and my chest hurt a little at that. What was I saying wrong?

“Ikey… well, you know what, it doesn’t matter! One way or another, you’ve grown up a lot since then. You might not see it,”

“I do,” I interrupted, “I’m doing a lot better now.”

“-Of course, Ikey. I see it, you see it… And, I think that God’s seen it too, because the world’s decided to give you a new challenge.”

My heart sank.

“What do you mean?” I asked. Mom looked me in my eyes. She wasn’t crying, but her eyes were all red.

“Ikey, remember that story we told you about the cultists? How your father and I were attacked on the road, and how I got shot?” I nodded. It wasn’t one of her favorite stories, but father had told me about it before. “Well, the problems didn’t set in for a while, but once they did, dad realized that I was sick. You probably don’t remember, but when you were young, I’d disappear for a couple of weeks, every once and awhile. Do you remember that?”

“No,” I said, and I didn’t. I’d forgotten a lot of things.

“Well, no matter. I’d go missing sometimes, and while I was missing, I was getting treatment from the Followers of the Apocalypse. It was expensive, but your father paid for it, either with caps or with his reputation. Between Aunt Julie and him, I could always find help.”

The pieces were starting to fit together now, and I was starting to fall apart. Had she come to tell me what I thought...?

“Momma, are you dying?” I asked, before she could continue. My mom choked a little bit.

“Ikey! Ikey, please let me finish! I already feel so terrible, dumping all this on you-“

“Dumping what? Momma, ARE YOU DYING?” She breathed deep- looked away from me, clenched her fists- but she didn’t stop. She just spoke to the floor instead.

“Well, the treatment worked! I didn’t even lose my hair, like they said I would- it was all so perfect. The doctors were optimistic. They thought they’d fixed it, killed the disease, but they hadn’t. They’d just slowed it down.”

“For a while, I was alright. I started feeling better, and for ten years or so, I raised you and ran the Casino and spent time with your father without any signs of the disease ever coming back. And then one night, I started feeling sick again, so I sent a letter to Julie and the Followers…”

I knew the rest of this story. “And then Father made an emergency trip home, and he died. I remember, mom. You don’t have to tell me that part.” I was crying now too, thinking about that night. It was dark and hot, and father had brought me a little snow globe…

Nope. Not going there.

“When he died, I lost all of my freedom. You were too young and too…”

“Retarded,” I finished, glaring at the ground.

“No, too inexperienced, to look after the Casino for me! And I was worried that you might try to hurt yourself again. So, I just tried to tough it out, waiting for the day that you’d be old enough to watch everything while I was gone to get treatment…”

I bit my bottom lip. That day had probably passed about a year ago, but she hadn’t seen it until now. What could I have done differently, to show her that I was ready?

“Why didn’t you tell me? I could have grown up a bit faster if it meant you getting your cancer treated!” I said helplessly. Mom set her jaw.

“Because I’m never going to try to force you to grow up any faster than you need to. You needed time to develop!”

“And you needed chemotherapy!” I stood up, and Mom glared at me.

“Ikey, sit! I didn’t-”

“I’m not-”

“ -DIDN’T COME HERE , for you to storm off on me!”

“Momma, I’m not gonna storm off!” There were tears in my eyes. “I’m- I’m worried about you, is all! If you came here to ask me if you could leave me alone a few weeks then the answer is yes, obviously! I love you!”

But she just shook her head.

“It’s too late for that, way too late. You need to be strong to survive that journey, and I’m not strong anymore. And the roads have gotten more dangerous since then, too- so dangerous that the NCR is taking action. Did you hear that they’re getting ready to set up an outpost here?”

I shook my head. Obviously, NCR control would be bad for Primm, but that wasn’t what I was worried about now. I was worried about my Momma! My mind was already racing with more possibilities.

“Then what are we gonna do? You- you think we could get the Follower’s to come down here? We could write to Aunt Julie! We could remind them about Father!”

Mom sighed. She decided to stand up then too, and even with her hunched back, she was so much bigger than me. She drew open the curtains, and some of her majesty returned as the sunlight and breeze washed over her.

“No, the Followers have too much on their hands right now to treat me again. There’s no options, Isaac...”

My heart clenched up-

“ I’m going to die .”

And shattered.

She rested her arms on the sill as the words sunk in. The horror, the finalty… the absurdity of it all. Because even when you know it’s coming, news like that is more crazy than it is anything else. I couldn’t find any words of my own, so I just closed my eyes and bit my tongue. I would’ve screamed otherwise.

“I don’t know when it’ll happen. It could be a year from now, it could be four. But when it does, I need you to be ready to take up the Casino- hell, you can sell the thing, I don’t care- but, I need you to be able to survive on your own. Do you think you can learn to do that?”

A few more seconds passed as hot tears made their way down my cheeks. I kept my eyes and jaw clenched shut, lest anything escape.

“ Ikey, baby, do you think you can do that for me?"

And I heard Momma walking towards me, felt her gettin closer. Felt that static in my head again...

“ Ikey…?”

She put her hand on my shoulder, and I exploded.

“NO!” I shrieked. Her eyes went wide.

“What?” “You heard me Momma! Fuck that, I’m not just going to just, just lay down and watch while you die!” I sniffled. “I’ll- I’ll go and get the Followers myself if I’ve got to, but I am gonna find a way to help! I’ve gotta!”

Still shocked, my mom sat back down on the bed.

“Ikey… I appreciate that, but that’s an awful idea! I already told you, the Followers can’t-“ she started, but I was already gathering up my things to leave.

“Fuck them too! They have to help you, I’ll yell at Aunt Julie or something!”

I was in the hallway now. Mom tried to catch up with me, but I’d already clicked on my pip-boy, swept up my coat and picked up my bag. What reason did I have to delay any longer?

“Ikey, we can still do all those other things! We can still send a letter to Aunt Julie, write to her for help-”

I stopped. I took a deep breath. My hand was on the door knob now, but I drew it back for a moment and stood still at the end of the hall.

“If all them letters didn’t work before, then they ain’t gonna work now.” I turned to face her down. “You ain’t going to change my mind on this, momma. I am going to find a way to save you.”

“No! Isaac I didn’t, I never...”

She clenched her fists. She looked even weaker now; I’d never noticed how gray her hair had gotten, or how wrinkled and yellow her skin was becoming, or seen any of the signs that I’d so painstakingly memorized. Maybe because I hadn’t wanted to.

What was that look on her face? Was it worry? Anger? Regret? Maybe it was all of them at once. I don’t know. I’d gotten so used to reading Mom’s simple, practiced expressions that she’d put on just for me, that I didn’t know how to interpret her raw emotion besides knowing that she was feeling something awful strongly. I kept my gaze steady.

“... Oh, damn my pride,” she muttered, eventually. She covered her eyes. “My goddamned pride! Oh, I should never have lied to you!”

“It’s okay Momma...”

The hot air burned me as I stepped outside. Momma fell to her knees sobbing.

“I never should have lied! Come back Ikey, I didn’t, I didn’t-!”

“It’s okay! It’s okay, I’ll be back!” I shouted, and left the door hanging open for her to close. I didn’t have the heart to shut the door on her, maybe because it would solidify the crazy decision I’d just made.

Crazy or not, I’d made my choice. No matter what I had to say, or what I had to do, I was going to find a way to save my Momma!

[+]

#fallout #fallout fanfic #fallout fanfiction #fallout fandom

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dailyaudiobible · 7 years ago

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10/31/2017 DAB Transcript

Lamentations 4:1-5:22; Hebrews 2:1-18; Psalms 103:1-22; Proverbs 26:23

Today is the 31st day of October. Welcome to the Daily Audio Bible. I’m Brian. Of course, it's awesome to be here with you today as we prepare to close down the 10th month of the year. Today is the 304th day of the year, which leaves us with 61 steps to go to the finish line. And, also today, we will conclude the book of Lamentations. So, let's get to that. We are reading from the Good News translation this week. Lamentations chapter 4 verse 1 through 5 verse 22 today.

Commentary:

Okay. So, we’re quite a bit of ways into the book of Proverbs and we have been dispensed. Each day, a bit of wisdom has been given to us that is practical and usable and true. And we also notice that it deals with all of the different postures and issues of our lives, encouraging us in the path that leads to and operates within wisdom. But we also have to acknowledge that where it is taking is now, the territory that we are going through right now, is pretty close to home, because its dealing with the things that were saying and how that affects things and it uses metaphors that we can understand to show us what we’re doing, which gives us a great opportunity to ask ourselves, ‘is that what I want to be doing with my words’. In other words, if this is what is happening, is that who I want to be? So, let's look at this proverb. Insincere talk is how this proverb begins. So, what are we talking about we talk about insincere talk? We’re talking about language or the portrayal of an emotion that is not authentic, that is not genuine. In other words, we don't mean what we’re actually saying and we don't feel what we’re actually portraying or saying it because it's what we feel like we should say or we’re exaggerating what we’re saying or what we’re portraying ourselves to be feeling, we’re exaggerating and stretching that beyond what is true and authentic. And the proverb says this is cheap talk. And we know that euphemism. We know that proverb - talk is cheap. This is what we’re talking about. But underneath that, we have to understand that it's a sham. It's not true. It's not genuine. It's not authentic. It’s not real. It veils the truth. It hides what you’re really thinking. So, as the proverb goes, ‘insincere talk that hides what you really thinking is like a fine glaze on a cheap clay pot’. So, if we’re looking at the metaphor, then the clay pot is made of cheap materials is maybe poorly constructed, isn’t going to hold together all that well, maybe it's porous and actually won’t hold liquid, and so there's a glaze that’s put over the top but that's going to break down and it's going to leak, which probably brings us to another euphemism - that won’t hold water. That’s what we’re talking about here. So, this glaze is slapped on top of it to make it look like it's a finely crafted piece, but it's not. It's cheap. It’s going to hold up. It's not what it's being presented to be. So, put that starkly, as the Proverbs are prone to do, we immediately have the mirror that the Scriptures become up in front of our faces and we have to examine ourselves. That’s the invitation of the proverb. Do you want to live wise or not? If you do, then this is this is what you need to pay attention to. This is what the Proverbs teach us. So, we have to look at ourselves and say, am I true, am I real, am I authentic and genuine in the things that I communicate or is most of this a sham? I don't think there's anyone listening right now that's like yes, yes, every day I roll out of bed and see how fake I can possibly be and when I lay my head down at night, if I can feel like I fooled everyone, then mission accomplished. Like, I don't think we live our lives that way. But using this proverb and the metaphor that it presents us, we might find that we very much are participating in insincere talk throughout any given day. And according to the proverb, we’re trying to pass off something as valuable that is cheap. And if we’ll pay attention to this proverb, if we’ll put it in our hearts and walk through this day observing ourselves, we’ll probably catch ourselves. And as we observe ourselves being this way, then we have the opportunity to name it and change it.

Prayer:

Father, we come into Your presence asking for Your help with this, the false places inside of us that just come spilling out all kinds of social situations. How is it that we can be true and sincere and present in our language, in our speech, rather than peddling something off that isn't true? Come Jesus we pray, we need Your help, and we ask for in Your name. Amen.

Announcements:

dailyaudiobible.com is the website. It’s home base. It’s where you find out what's going on around here.

What has been going on around here for the last week is the Global Campfire Initiative and that initiative will be concluded today. It was our hope to move through a week of the initiative and then be able to move forward in the development that we’ve been talking about. And, so, before the days out, the Hatch Prints will be gone. There are a few left. You can still certainly get involved. I don't know what else to say to say that I am humbled that we can do this together and that we have done this together and that you’ve cared that were in this together and were doing this together. That is so heartening to know that there are passions about the spoken word of God in community that are beyond my own. So, thank you. And if you do want to participate, dailyaudiobible.com is the place to go. Just scroll down and you'll find the Global Campfire Initiative. And thank you for helping us finish this strong and completely. From the bottom of my heart and the heart of all of the team, everybody who's involved in writing lines of code or praying or whiteboarding or dreaming, thank you.

Of course, one of the things that we do very well around here is pray for each other. If you have a prayer request or comment, if you’re shouldering burdens, there’s a place to bring them and have them shouldered together in community. 877-942-4253 is the number you can dial.

And that's it for today. This concludes the 10th month of our year together, concludes the month of October. I'm Brian I love you and I'll be waiting for you here tomorrow as we begin a new month.

Community Prayers and Praise Reports:

Good morning my Daily Audio Bible family. I hope you are well. This is Erin in Michigan and I am calling with a prayer request for my niece, that she would turn back to God and also to take care of yourself. She has health issues and needs to eat well and sleep well and then do her college work. So, just lifting her up and holding her out to God because I know that she's been chosen by him and has a great purpose in life. Lord, just ask for truth, health, and strength to get there. And my main request, Lord, and family, is to pray for me. I am embarking on a path that leads towards working towards racial reconciliation and I want to arrive in a church that believes that this is the church's work and I totally and fully believe that as the body of Christ we are the ones to heal the divisions that have long been not even recognized as a division. So, Lord, I lift up our churches. I lift up our brothers and sisters of color, Lord. And I lift up those of us in the church, as it is our work to heal the racial divide that has scared our country since its inception. So, thank you for praying with me family. I love you and I hope you have a wonderful day. Bye.

Hello Daily Audio Bible DABbers. This is Dianne B. from Newburg, Indiana and I’m calling to mainly pray for Rayna from LA. Sister, I am in your shoes right now and want you to know that hang in there and just obey Psalm 91 - the secret place. Get in the secret place every day. Focus on that. Focus on the word. Focus on worship. And I hear your pain and you feel hopeless. And people are saying, ‘what's wrong with you’? And you love your job and you were free of fibromyalgia once but it’s come back full force. And I stand with you sister. I stand with you and I am fighting with you in my own battles in similar ways. So, every single day I am going to lift up your name to the Lord and I am going to pray that you be restored better than you were before because it is (singing) Him whom we love, it is Him whom we follow, it is Him whom we trust, it is Him, Jesus (singing stops). God bless you sister. I am going to pray every day. Shalom, shalom. Nothing is missing. Nothing is broken.

Good morning DAB family. This is Cheryl from Arkansas. And I have a prayer request today and ask that all of you guys, myself included, that we pray for our sisters and brothers in Puerto Rico. I pray that we the Spirt of Jesus and the love of Jesus when we think of them and our hearts go out to them and that we treat them as one of us and that we treat them as the sisters and the brothers that they are, just like the sisters and the brothers to the right of us and to the left of us in the different states and cities within the United States. I ask that you pray with me, that we pray for the love that we have unconditionally and that we not treat them any differently because they’re not different. And that's my prayer. And I just thank you guys are praying with me. Thank you, have a good day. Bye-bye.

Almighty and powerful God, I come to you tonight on behalf of Lee, who confessed his sin of anger to the DAB family. We are told to confess our sins, one to another, and to pray for one another and as the DAB family we do that right now. At the same time, You tell us, if we confess that You are faithful and just to forgive us and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness. Father God, Lee’s anger must have been like a powder keg, he lost control and the flames were explosive, not just singing the relationship with his wife and his 13-year-old daughter but charring the relationship to the point of ashes. Oh, Father the family is deeply hurt. Lee is depleted, feeling unworthy of love and respect and a place within the family. Oh God, I pray that Lee’s anger will not go unchecked, the festering great bitterness. I pray Father, by the power of the Holy Spirit that Lee will embrace as the elective God always because of confession and beloved. Because he is Your child, that he will put on tender mercy, that he will put on kindness, that he will put on humility and meekness and longsuffering as You tell all of us, all of us as Your servants, and as the servants of our family. Father, we can’t do it without the powerful work of the spirit within. Grant it, I pray. At the same time, I ask, that in time that his wife and his daughter and his little son will see that Lee is repentant and they will have listening ears and open hearts and that by Your Spirit You will grant supernatural willingness to forgive and that restoration of the family will be Lees gift from You. Oh, Father I pray in the strong name of Jesus. I leave this petition with You and thank You.

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healthiffy · 4 months ago

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#Operation True Love Chapter 103 #operation true love #otl #webtoon #rant #Operation True Love manhwa

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whimsicallyenchantedrose · 3 years ago

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Fridays—Chapter 166: The Twelve Days of Storybrooke

(ao3) (ff.net)

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Notes: As promised, here's the second Fluffy Fridays update of the day! This story was written for @pirateherokillian for the CS Secret Santa 2021. I hope you all have a wonderful holiday season!

Killian woke with a gasp, taking a moment to let his heart rate return to normal. It had been a while since he’d had the dream, but when he did he woke absolutely bloody terrified.

Six months ago Emma had won the final battle, and the residents of Storybrooke had begun their happily ever afters. It had been good, so, so far beyond good since then. He and Emma had taken a two-week honeymoon on the Jolly. They’d had no real destination in mind; they’d merely chosen to sail somewhere warm and tropical. Two weeks of uninterrupted time together had been better than even his fertile imagination could have dreamed up.

When they’d returned home, they’d set up house and then begun the process of deciding just what they would do with the remainder of their lives (besides spending copious amounts of time in bed, of course. They were newly-weds, after all). When Dave had decided to pursue his life-long dream of owning a farm, the decision had been simple. Killian would take the position of Emma’s deputy. Now he and Swan were partners in everything–life and work.

As he said, life was good.

But the fact that life was now as close to idyllic as it could get didn’t erase the years and years of trauma they had all been through over the past few years, and for the first couple of months, Killian had the same nightmare nearly every night.

They were back there on the streets of Storybrooke, Swan facing Gideon and the final battle about to commence. He’d known what she was going to do a split second before she did it. She’d turned back toward him, agony and regret in her eyes. Before he even had time to scream in horror, she’d dropped her sword, letting Gideon run her through.

It was the only way to truly escape the trap the Black Fairy had set for them. The strategic part of Killian’s brain knew that to be true. But his heart, a heart that had lost everyone it had ever loved, rejected the idea. He couldn’t lose her, his true love, the best part of his very self, his beloved wife. Not now! Not ever.

He’d watched as Gideon’s sword made contact, and Swan grunted in pain, falling to the ground. Her lad went to her, told her he loved her, kissed her.

And nothing happened.

Henry tried True Love’s Kiss again. Still nothing.

Killian tried, kissing her until his lips were bruised. She remained still and dead.

He’d lost the most important person he’d ever had in his life, and he was sure the agony really would kill him.

Killian took a deep breath, shaking his head to clear the distressing images from his mind, and then turning onto his side, tears of relief coming into his eyes as his gaze took in the peacefully sleeping form of his wife.

She was here. She was alive. She was well. They’d gotten their happy beginning, and he need never fear the final battle again.

They’d been married long enough for Killian to know waking his sleeping Swan was a rather unwise proposition, but still he leaned over and softly caressed her cheek, pushing aside her tangled hair. He needed to touch her, needed to reassure himself that it was just a dream; that she was here and that she was well.

She was so beautiful, so vibrant. He leaned down and kissed her, softly, gently. She stirred at the touch of his lips to hers, smiling in her sleep and whispering his name. After a moment, she wrapped her arms around his neck and began kissing him back.

He’d feared she’d be angry at him for waking her, but it seemed she had another form of sweet torture for him instead. The fire built up inside of him as the kiss continued and Swan’s hands began wandering. This wasn’t necessarily how he’d planned to begin Christmas Eve morning, but Killian was so very far from complaining.

He’d only just reached for the hem of Emma’s pajama top when her talking phone began blaring “Jingle Bells.”

She groaned, reluctantly pulling her mouth from his.

“Ignore it, Love,” he whispered, kissing down the column of her neck.

“Good plan,” she responded in a far-from-steady voice as she pulled his mouth back to hers.

But the wretch on the other end of the phone seemed quite insistent. No sooner had the talking phone gone silent than it started up again.

Emma growled, rolling away from him to reach for the phone. “Sounds like they’re not giving up. I better see what it is.”

Emma tapped at the screen for a moment, and then barked. “What?”

She listened for a moment before rolling her eyes. “Just a second, Dad. Killian’s here too. Let me put you on speaker.”

A few more taps at the screen and then Dave’s voice came through the speaker.

“Like I said to Emma, Killian, I’m really sorry for the interruption; I know I offered to cover the station so you two could have a couple days off, but we’ve got a bit of a situation here.”

Killian sighed. They’d had six months of peace. He supposed it was the best run they could hope for. “Just what kind of situation?”

“Well,” David said slowly. “I…don’t know exactly how to describe it. I know it involves lots of birds.”

“Birds?” Emma bit out. “Dad, you interrupted us because of birds? Isn’t that more Mom’s department?”

“She doesn’t know what to make of it either. Besides, some of the birds don’t seem to even speak English.”

Emma shook her head. “I kind of hate that a sentence like that almost makes sense to me. Still, why are you bothering us for birds–no matter what language they speak?”

“It’s not just the birds,” David said. “There are other oddities. Women dancing, people playing instruments, men randomly jumping up and down, cows being milked. Full-grown trees suddenly appearing. I don’t know what’s going on, but it is truly bizarre, and you know how this town is. The usual suspects are already starting to freak out.”

“I’m assuming Leroy has begun heralding the news?” Killian said.

David chuckled. “Obviously.”

In the background, Killian could hear the dwarf himself yelling “The bagpipers! They’re here!”

“Anyway,” David said, “I’ve tried to calm everyone as best I can, but the rumor has already begun circulating that we’re under attack. I wouldn’t ask it unless I really thought it was necessary, but I really think I need back up.”

Emma sighed again, pushing aside the covers and reaching for her jeans. “Alright Dad, we’re on our way.”

“Never a dull moment, is there, love?” Killian asked, climbing from his side of the bed….just as the sound of a full on drum line began playing outside their bedroom window.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“I think we need to go on the attack!” Leroy shouted from the back of city hall, as the impromptu town hall meeting began. “This is our town, and we need to defend it!”

Emma rolled her eyes–she’d been doing that so much already today that she feared she’d go blind. Just when she thought things in Storybrooke couldn’t get weirder, something like this happened.

As she and Killian had driven into town, she could tell her dad hadn’t been exaggerating. Everywhere she looked was something else out of place. Fully grown pear trees, each with a bird perched on one of it’s limbs, blue birds with��if one could believe it–cell phones held to their heads. Hen’s wearing berets and waving French flags. Groups of swans performing some sort of synchronized swimming routine in the harbor. Pairs of turtle doves nestled together, cooing sweet nothings in each other’s ears. Geese lying around in the street.

And that was only the birds. As they neared the center of town, Emma began noticing the groups of people–people she’d never seen before–behaving in distinctly odd fashion. There were the maids milking, the men in three-piece suits playing leap-frog with each other and the scantily clad women (shouldn’t they be freezing dressed like that in December?) seductively dancing to the music of a pipe and drum corp.

Right in the center of town, a set of five, huge golden hoops sat upon the ground.

(“Stay away from the rings!” she heard someone shout. “Probably portals to some dystopian hellscape!”)

Regina, as the newly reinstated mayor, had taken control, promptly calling a town meeting and magicing the word out to all the town’s residents.

And so here they were, huddled together in town hall, trying desperately to make sense of…well, anything that was going on today.

Seriously, though. Couldn’t whatever villain or whatever had done this have at least waited until after Christmas. Rude.

“Who precisely do you suggest we attack?” Regina asked with a sneer. “We don’t even know what is going on, let alone who has perpetrated it.”

“I might be able to answer that first question,” Belle said, from her place in the back next to her husband and sleeping newborn.

“Yeah?” Emma asked. “What do you think is going on?”

Belle got to her feet and looked over at the assembled town. “Well, it’s Christmas Eve, and we’re seeing everything from partridges in pear trees to drummers drumming. Think about it! Every weird thing going on right now has something to do with one of the gifts from the Christmas song.”

Emma groaned. Of course. Of course someone had decided to mess with them by sending the twelve days of Christmas.

“So who do we think’s doing it?” Henry asked. “Can anyone think of a Christmas related villain that might want to attack us?”

Various suggestions were thrown out there–from Ebenezer Scrooge to the Grinch, to Mr. Potter from It’s a Wonderful Life, but none seemed to quite fit the bill.

“Well, we aren’t getting anywhere just speculating,” Emma said. “If there is some kind of psycho Christmas villain going after us, we’ll have to wait until they make another move. For the time being, it doesn’t seem like any of the birds or….performers…are causing any harm. I guess just…don’t panic.”

“We’ve defeated much worse than eleven pipers piping!” Snow chirped up in a way-too cheery voice. “This town will get through it the way we get through everything! Together!”

The meeting had only just adjourned, when Emma’s cell phone began ringing. She looked down and frowned. It was a long distance number. A verylong distance number.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Emma curled up on the sofa, bringing her legs up beneath her and leaning into Killian’s open arm. She chuckled as she brought her mug of cocoa to her lips and glanced over at their huge, brightly decorated Christmas tree.

“Did you see Leroy’s face when that goose suddenly decided to stop lying around and started chasing him through the streets? I thought he was going to start screaming like a little girl.”

Killian laughed, turning his head to give her a quick kiss on the forehead. It was one of her favorite things about being with Killian, all of the simple, casual signs of affection. “I’d pay an entire pouch full of doubloons for a moving picture of that moment.”

Emma laughed again. “It’s amazing how quickly everyone’s mood shifted, though once we found out we weren’t in fact under attack. Seems like nothing can dampen the Christmas spirit for long around here this year.”

No sooner had the town hall meeting ended, than Emma got a video call from Arendelle. “Emma!” Elsa had said as soon as the call connected. “I’m really sorry about this. I had no idea!”

Emma’s brow furrowed, and she exchanged a mystified look with Killian. “You’re sorry about what? I’d really like to chat, but we’ve got a bit of a situation here–like always.”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you,” Elsa said. “Apparently Anna…”

“Did you get it?” came Anna’s perky voice as her excited face popped into frame. “Did you get our gifts? I mean, technically, they’re supposed to be for your true love, so maybe I should have given them to Kristoff, but I figured you wouldn’t care, even if Storybrooke isn’t my True Love. I mean I like Storybrooke, but True Love is kind of a strong term.”

Elsa rolled her eyes. “What my sister is trying to say is that she–without consulting me–decided to send Storybrooke the twelve days of Christmas, compliments of Arendelle.”

Killian nodded before taking a sip of his own steaming beverage. “It was rather impressive how quickly and efficiently the town was able to rid the town square of the well meaning, if rather annoying gifts once they were assured that there was nothing nefarious going on.”

“And can you believe how quickly Granny was able to put that town-wide Christmas party together?” Emma asked.

“This town truly is a wonder,” Killian said, draining the last sip of his cocoa before turning his full attention toward his wife, “but I have rather a different idea of how I’d like to celebrate Christmas Eve with my wife than talking about the town.”

“Yeah?” she asked, setting her mug on the end table and turning to face him. “Care to tell me what that is?”

He grinned, wiggling his eyebrows before shaking his head. “Oh darling, I don’t plan to tell you. I plan to show you.”

And he did just that–quite thoroughly, long into the night.

Just before they fell asleep, exhausted and exquisitely sated, Emma heard Leroy’s shout far in the distance. “Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!”

NEXT CHAPTER-->

#cs friday fluff #fluffy fridays #cs christmas fluff #my fanfiction

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whimsicallyenchantedrose · 3 years ago

Text

Fluffy Fridays—Chapter 159: Once Upon a Flower Shop, Ch. 1 of 3

Pairing: Captain Swan

Other Chapters: ( 1) (2) ( 3) ( 4) ( 5) (6) ( 7) ( 8) ( 9) ( 10) ( 11) ( 12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17) (18) (19) (20) (21) (22) (23) (24) (25) (26) (27) (28) (29) (30) (31) (32) (33) (34) (35) (36) (37) (38) (39) (40) (41) (42) (43) (44) (45) (46) (47) (48) (49) (50) (51) (52) (53) (54) (55) (56) (57) (58) (59) (60) (61) (62) (63) (64) (65) (66) (67) (68) (69) (70) (71) (72) (73) (74) (75) (76) (77) (78) (79) (80) (81) (82) (83) (84) (85) (86) (87) (88) (89) (90) (91) (92) (93) (94) (95) (96) (97) (98) (99) (100) (101) (102) (103) (104) (105) (106) (107) (108) (109) (110) (111) (112) (113) (114) (115) (116) (117) (118) (119) (120) (121) (122) (123) (124) (125) (126) (127) (128) (129) (130) (131) (132) (133) (134) (135) (136) (137) (138) (139) (140) (141) (142) (143) (144) (145) (146) (147) (148) (149) (150) (151) (152) (153) (154) (155) (156) (157) (158) (160) (161) (162) (163) (164) (165) (166) (167) (168) (169) (170) (171) (172) (173) (174)

(ao3) (ff.net)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This fic was originally written for the #loveforteamhook event as a way to support Alma, @teamhook while she’s going through a difficult time. Thanks to @jrob64 for her work in betaing for me!

Killian Jones cupped the delicate blooms of an orchid in his hand and nodded in satisfaction. He’d been rather worried about this particular plant. It had shown signs of distress a week past, and for several days he’d feared it wouldn’t make it. He had done his research, separated the diseased plant from its mates and cared for it as tenderly as a parent would their child.

Today was the first day the orchid showed signs of improvement. Like Killian himself, this orchid was a survivor.

Killian gathered up the plant and placed it back inside the bright, humid greenhouse, and then stepped back behind the counter of his shop Jolly Blooms Flower Shop. Sometimes it amazed him, the life he now led. As a young man, he’d longed for adventure, danger. He’d joined the navy to be close to his brother, and the life they’d led had been fascinating. He’d loved every minute of it.

Until the moment his brother Liam opted to leave the navy and marry his highschool sweetheart, Elsa.

Suddenly, with his brother no longer at his side, danger and adventure no longer looked nearly as appealing. Left at a crossroads, he’d taken some time to evaluate what he wanted to do with his life, and in the end, he’d opted for the pursuit of beauty.

There was something so calming and yet rejuvenating about being surrounded day after day by beautiful flowers. Providing a product that brought joy and comfort to his clients was infinitely rewarding. His was a quiet, peaceful existence.

His introspection was interrupted when his shop door was suddenly, forcefully opened. He looked up to find himself face to face with the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Her golden hair fell on her shoulders and down her back like a cloud of sunshine. Her green eyes shone.

Unfortunately, today they seemed to be shining with anger. So much for his quiet, peaceful existence.

“May...may I help you, love?” he asked, hesitantly as she reached his counter, planted her feet and crossed her arms.

“Yeah, I wanted you to help me yesterday, but apparently asking for a flower shop to deliver flowers was too big of an ask,” she clipped out.

Killian found himself at a loss for words, barely even registering what the vision before him said. They say when you’ve found your soulmate, your True Love, you just know. You can feel it. He’d rather thought that was nonsense, but now...well, now he was beginning to rethink every notion he’d ever had about attraction, romance and even love itself.

“Well?” she exploded, planting her splayed hands on his wooden counter and scowling fiercely at him.

Killian blinked, shaking his head slightly, willing himself to come back to his senses. Whatever his attraction might be to this woman, she was a customer, and he must get it together and provide her the customer service that had made him one of the most sought-after small flower shops in the area.

“My apologies,” he said. “Was there a problem with a flower delivery?”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh I don’t know. I ordered a bouquet to be delivered yesterday, and yet still no flowers have arrived. Seems like a bit of a problem to me!”

Killian frowned. He’d had several flower orders go out yesterday, and he’d gotten no complaints from his delivery people that they’d been unable to complete their tasks successfully. “Could I have your name, love?”

“Not your love,” she gritted out. “Emma Swan. I ordered a bouquet of snowbells to be delivered to Mary Margaret Nolan. It was very important that they arrive yesterday on her birthday.”

He remembered the order, because of its unusualness. Few people specifically requested snow bells, and those who did typically wished for them to be an accent in a larger arrangement rather than the sole flower within the arrangement.

Killian typed for a moment on his computer, bringing up the order details. “According to my records, that bouquet was delivered as requested bright and early yesterday morning.”

“And yet my sister still does not have her bouquet of flowers,” the woman, Emma Swan, said.

Killian peered down at his information once again and groaned. Will. He should have known his newest--and most annoying--employee would be at the center of any mix up.

“Scarlet!” he called over his shoulder.

A moment later the man in question stepped through the back room door and walked up to the two of them. “Anything I can do for ya boss?”

“There seems to be a mistake with yesterday’s deliveries,” Killian said, willing himself to keep his voice even. There was just something about Will Scarlet and his care-free and yet somehow insolent style that made Killian wish to throttle him more often than not.

“Nope,” Will said, grinning. “No problems with yesterday’s deliveries. Handed the flowers personally to every person on my list.”

“What about the bouquet of snowbells for Mary Margaret Nolan?”

Will tapped on his chin, seemingly deep in thought, and then he brightened. “I remember her. Pretty woman, that. Long, curly, fire-red hair. Kinda thought about asking her out, but decided that might not be so professional-like.”

“Curly red hair?” Emma Swan bit out. “Mary Margaret doesn’t have curly red hair. She has dark brown! I don’t think she even knows anyone with curly red hair!”

“Did you confirm the name of the recipient?” Killian asked.

“Yep, just like you taught me,” Will said, nodding vigorously.

“And this red-head confirmed that her name was Mary Margaret?” Killian asked.

“Well, I mean she said her name was Merida,” Will conceded, “but I figured hey, that must be a nickname for Mary Margaret or somethin’.”

Killian rubbed at his temples, a pounding headache beginning to set in. “And you didn’t think to confirm that you had the right address and that this person, with a different name, was the actual intended recipient of your delivery?”

Will shrugged. “Hey, I don’t ask questions. I just go where the Google maps lady tells me.”

Killian full-on facepalmed this time before glaring at his unbelievably dense employee. “Just...just go back to what you were doing. Later, we’ll have a long, probably rather loud discussion about the proper way to deliver flowers.”

Killian watched the idiot disappear into the backroom, muttering to himself about it being Mrs. Google’s fault and then turned back to face the wrath of the avenging angel before him.

“Miss Swan, my sincerest apologies for this unfortunate mistake,” he said. “The delivery man at fault will be dealt with, and I will set to work this moment to create a replacement for your sister.”

The remainder of the visit was completed in a matter of moments. Killian took down his dream woman’s information, apologized profusely, and then assured her yet again that he would personally see to the creation and delivery of the arrangement, that it would be his first priority.

Killian’s reassurances seemed to mollify the woman slightly, though her ire was clearly not entirely ameliorated. Satisfied that she’d at least accomplished what she’d set out to do, Emma Swan turned and walked briskly out of his shop and out of his life.

It rather amazed Killian what a profound sense of loss he felt as the door closed behind the lovely lady. He’d only known her for the space of five minutes, for Zeus’s sake, and most of that was spent with her yelling at him. It made no sense that he’d feel such a deep, elemental pull to her already, and yet the heart wanted what the heart wanted.

Killian grabbed a vase and headed in the direction of his snowbells. There was no doubt about it; he must find a way to see Emma Swan again. Slowly, an idea began to take shape within his mind. It was a bold move, perhaps even risky, but if there’s one thing Liam had instilled in him it was this: A man unwilling to fight for what he wants, deserves what he gets.

If he didn’t at least try with Emma Swan, Killian knew he’d regret it for the rest of his life.

Notes:

--This story is loosely inspired by The Words music video, as you might have picked up. I’ve never written about florist Killian before, and I decided it was time to change that.

--I’m anticipating 2 more short chapters that I’ll post on each of the next Thursdays. (The point of this event was to post one shots...but my muse is terrible at following directions, lol.

--Up next: We’ll get some Killian pining (a la the music video), but the bulk of the chapter will be from Emma’s POV. We’ll find out why she was so angry about her flowers not being delivered, and we’ll see her reaction to Killian putting into action the plan he comes up with at the end of this chapter.

NEXT CHAPTER-->

#cs ff #cs friday fluff #fluffy fridays #my fanfiction cs au ff #florist killian au #my fanfiction #once upon a flower shop

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whimsicallyenchantedrose · 6 years ago

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Fluffy Fridays—Chapter 147: The Groom’s Side, pt. 1

Pairing: Captain Swan

Other Chapters: ( 1) (2) ( 3) ( 4) ( 5) (6) ( 7) ( 8) ( 9) ( 10) ( 11) ( 12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17) (18) (19) (20) (21) (22) (23) (24) (25) (26) (27) (28) (29) (30) (31) (32) (33) (34) (35) (36) (37) (38) (39) (41) (42) (43) (44) (45) (46) (47) (48) (49) (50) (51) (52) (53) (54) (55) (56) (57) (58) (59) (60) (61) (62) (63) (64) (65) (66) (67) (68) (69) (70) (71) (72) (73) (74) (75) (76) (77) (78) (79) (80) (81) (82) (83) (84) (85) (86) (87) (88) (89) (90) (91) (92) (93) (94) (95) (96) (97) (98) (99) (100) (101) (102) (103) (104) (105) (106) (107) (108) (109) (110) (111) (112) (113) (114) (115) (116) (117) (118) (119) (120) (121) (122) (123) (124) (125) (126) (127) (128) (129) (130) (131) (132) (133) (134) (135) (136) (137) (138) (139) (140) (141) (142) (143) (144) (145) (146) (148) (149) (150) (151) (152) (153) (154) (155) (156) (157) (158) (159) (160) (161) (162) (163) (164) (165) (166) (167) (168) (169) (170) (171) (172) (173) (174)

(ao3) (ff.net)

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The Groom’s Side—pt. 1 of 2

CS Genre: Deleted scene (pt. 1) and Canon divergence (pt. 2) from 6x19 and 6x20

Killian laid back upon his small bunk in the captain’s quarters and closed his eyes, hoping the gentle swaying of the Jolly would sooth him to sleep. So many emotions swirled inside as his mind played over the events of the past weeks and as he looked forward to the events of tomorrow.

Tomorrow he married his True Love, his soul mate, the love of his life, and the one to whom every beat of his heart belonged.

Killian smiled to himself, thinking of the way Swan would gently tease him for using such “sappy” language, and yet the look in her eye would prove she loved, craved every moment of it.

Turning over and punching his pillow, Killian tried to find a comfortable position. He and Swan had only been sharing a bed for a few weeks now, but he was surprised at how hard it was to go to sleep without her beside him. Her warmth, the softness of her hair tickling his chest as she pillowed her head against him, the delicate scent of vanilla from the shampoo she preferred, the rhythmic sound of her breathing as she slumbered. He missed it all.

Killian heaved out a frustrated sigh. One night. He could handle one night to appease superstition, and then he need never be parted from her again. She would be his wife, and he her husband. They would be bound together for all eternity. (He rather liked the version of the vows Archie had proposed.)

So aye, he felt joy, excitement, anticipation, but he could not deny that a small, niggling part of him felt something resembling melancholy as well.

A wedding was a family affair, a chance for two families to come together and celebrate the way they’ve now become connected. Emma had a family and an entire town behind her, and Killian couldn’t be happier for his fiancée. The lonely lost girl had finally found her home and her family, and it warmed Killian more than he could say.

He only wished he had more than Smee and the handful of his remaining crew to be seated on the groom’s side of the wedding venue.

“How I wish you could be here, brother,” he murmured.

He was grateful beyond words he’d been able to see Liam once more in the Underworld, to bid him a proper farewell and see him sail off into his eternal reward, but somehow seeing him again brought his current absence into stark clarity in a way it hadn’t in centuries.

Aye, Liam had been more than suspicious of Emma at first, but he’d come to accept her place, her importance in Killian’s life, and Killian believed if the two people he loved most in all the realms had had a chance to truly come to know each other, they would have become fast friends.

But it was not to be. Liam and their parents were gone, Nemo and Liam the younger beyond the reach of communication. Killian took a deep breath and slowly let it out. It mattered not if his loved ones were not present at his wedding. It would still be the single happiest moment of his life.

Best he dwell on what he did have—which was a far sight more than he felt he deserved after his centuries of villainy—rather than on what he didn’t

Riiiiiiiiiiiing!!

Killian jumped at the sudden wailing of his talking device, his heart racing in his chest, and his hand instinctively reaching for his discarded hook. He laughed to himself as he took the small phone in his hand instead and peered down at the display.

Henry.

Killian smiled to himself, swiping across the green circle on the screen as Swan had showed him.

“Lad?” he asked loudly, “what brings you to the talking phone at this time of the evening?”

Jeez, Killian! Henry replied, You know you don’t have to shout into the phone, right? And it’s just phone. Not talking phone.

Killian rolled his eyes good naturedly. “Aye, so you’ve said. Repeatedly. Anything I can help you with tonight?”

Henry was silent for a moment.

No. Everything’s fine. It’s just weird without you here. Somehow the house feels huge with just me and mom.

“I miss you and your mother as well,” Killian said, “but traditions must be kept. No sense in inviting bad luck to our marriage by seeing the bride before the wedding.”

So, I was thinking, Henry said, after the honeymoon and everything, maybe you and I can have a guy’s day. I was hoping maybe you could teach me more about your ship and sailing and stuff. Then maybe we could order pizza and I could beat you at a few video games.

Killian grinned. “I’ll have you know, I’ve improved tremendously at that device. Don’t be surprised if it’s I who emerges victorious.”

Henry laughed on the other end of the line. Dream on, Killian. You don’t stand a chance.

“We shall see about that.”

Anyway, then maybe Mom can join us, and we can start that Star Wars marathon I’ve been wanting to do. I mean…that is if you want to. I know you and mom will want to have your alone time and stuff, and you won’t want an annoying kid hanging around…

Killian shook his head vehemently, even though the lad couldn’t see. “That’s where you’re wrong, Henry. Aye, I love your mother more than my very life, and we’ll wish to spend some alone time together, but tomorrow I’ll not only be gaining a wife, I’ll also be gaining a stepson, and I couldn’t be more delighted that that stepson is you. Don’t ever think I consider you an ‘annoying kid’. I’d be honored to spend a guy’s day with you.”

Cool! Henry answered. Well, I guess I better go. Big day tomorrow; I should probably head to bed.

“Goodnight lad.”

Killian swiped the button that would disconnect the call and then placed the device on his bedside table, a grin on his face.

Laying back down, he attempted to get comfortable.

He’d just begun to drift off when the blasted talking phone began wailing once more.

“Aye?” he bit out, trying to keep the annoyance from his voice. These ‘cell phones’ were useful inventions, but they could also be bloody annoying.

Killian! Good, you’re still up, came the chipper voice of the Lady Snow. You got time to talk a few last minute wedding details?

Killian blew out a breath. Snow had taken her role as mother of the bride seriously, and the last few days had been a non-stop parade of preparations. She wanted her only daughter’s wedding to be perfect. Killian couldn’t fault her for that. After all, Swan was the most bloody brilliant woman in the world; she deserved the best. And though she had grumbled a bit about all the fuss Snow was making and how inconvenient it all was, Killian knew his future wife well. He knew she secretly loved every moment of it, loved the fact that she had this moment that for nearly three decades she believed she’d never have.

“Aye,” Killian said finally. “I’ve the time. What more needs to be done?”

Well, I was looking for my wedding dress, hoping Emma would choose to wear it for the ceremony, and it suddenly occurred to me. What are you planning to wear to the wedding?

Killian shrugged. “I hadn’t thought much about it. I suppose I’ll wear my pirate leathers. Perhaps I’ll pair it with the red brocade vest Emma seems to prefer.”

Prefer it she did, Killian recalled with a smile. She called it his ‘red vest of sex’, and days on which he wore it always seemed to culminate in quite enjoyable activities.

That won’t do at all! You can’t wear your pirate outfit for your wedding!

She sounded as scandalized as she would if Killian had suggested he attend his wedding in the nude. “I’m afraid I’ve very few other clothing options befitting a formal occasion.”

Well, you’re in luck. I found the perfect suit for you. I’ll put it in your cabin tomorrow morning before I head over to Emma’s to help her get ready.

“My thanks,” he said gratefully.

It’s what a mom does, Snow said. So how are you feeling tonight? Any pre-wedding jitters?

He shook his head. “Not a one. If I’d had my way, I’d have wed your daughter the moment we landed back in Storybrooke after our adventure in Neverland.”

He heard her utter a soft “Aw!”

Killian, she said, I just wanted to let you know that I’ve never seen Emma as happy as she’s been with you. I’m honored that tomorrow you’ll be an official member of the family.

His heart warmed. “I doubt you’d be saying the same when we first met,” he quipped.

She laughed softly through the phone. Who would have thought that flirtatious villain, only out for himself would turn out to be one of the most honorable men I know, save for my own husband, of course.

Killian laughed and then sobered. “You’ve no idea how much it means to hear you say that, Your Majesty.”

Stop with the Your Majesty stuff, she playfully chided. Come tomorrow, I’ll be your mother-in-law.

“Well then, you’ve no idea how much it means to hear you say that, Mummy.”

She laughed again. “Good night Killian. Get some sleep; big day tomorrow.”

“Aye, aye.”

Killian had barely replaced the talking phone on his bedside table when it began ringing again. He sighed. For someone who’d been nothing but an outsider for centuries, he certainly had a lot of people wishing to talk to him tonight.

“Aye?” he asked.

Killian, came the clearly exasperated voice at the other end of the line, I know Snow’s going to call you tonight about a tux for the wedding, just, ugh! You don’t have to wear it, okay? It’s awful.

Killian grinned. “Well hello to you too, Dave. I’m doing splendidly. Thanks for asking.”

David blew out a long breath. Sorry, it’s just…I love my wife with all my heart, but sometimes she can get an idea in her head and she’s like a dog with a bone. There’s no talking her out of it.

Killian laughed. “I suspect it would be rather bad form to comment upon that, mate.”

David barked a laugh. Probably so.

“So what exactly is so terrible about this garment your wife wishes me to wear for the wedding?”

You see, Snow had this big idea, David began, about what you wear to the wedding being symbolic, a sign you’ve change and become a good man. That sort of thing. So she stopped by The Brave Little Tailor’s, and found this entirely white tux. It’s terrible. Not you at all.

Killian winced. “It does sound rather unpleasant, but if it’s what I need to do to marry your daughter, I can bear it, I suppose.”

See, that’s just what I’m saying, David said, the annoyance clear in his voice once more. You don’t need to wear it. It’s your wedding. Yours and Emma’s. You should be allowed to wear anything you want. Just wanted to let you know you don’t have to feel like you need to appease Snow.

“Many thanks.”

There was a pause on the line, and Killian was about to bid the prince goodnight, when he suddenly spoke again, softly, almost hesitantly.

Killian…

“Aye?”

Look, I know we kind of had a rocky start, but I feel like we’ve become friends through the years.

Killian smiled. “Glad to hear it, mate. I feel quite the same.”

I just wanted to let you know tomorrow doesn’t have to change that. I know I’ll be your father-in-law, but I want you to know we can still be friends. You know kick back at The White Rabbit every now and then. Hang out, that sort of thing.

“I would like that,” Killian said, realizing that he meant every word of it. Save for Emma, David was probably the best friend he’d ever had.

Good, and if there’s anything you want to know, you know, about married life and stuff, well, I’m not the expert, but I’d be happy to give you whatever advice I can.

Killian grinned wickedly. “Why Dave, are you offering to give me pointers for the wedding night?”

At the other end of the phone, David (predictably) sputtered irately. NO! Gods, no! Killian, I’m telling you right here and now I never want to hear about what you and my daughter do behind closed doors. In fact, I’m gonna pretend you do nothing more than play scrabble. Yep, that’s it. Emma is still pure as the wind driven snow.

Killian laughed heartily. “How precisely do you think she came to have Henry, then.”

David laughed. Hey, we’re from a magical realm, live in a magical town right now. Who’s to say Henry wasn’t the result of Neal giving Emma some sort of…magical flower or something? That’s what happened. You won’t convince me otherwise.

Killian laughed again. “Very well. I shall dispense with sharing details with you that will disprove your magic flower of fertility theories.”

David laughed.

“In all seriousness, though, thank you. I’ve no doubt I will benefit from your advice as the years go on.”

After a few more pleasantries the call came to an end, the smile still firmly plastered across Killian’s face. He felt better, much better. Perhaps he wouldn’t have his blood relations present at his wedding, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t be surrounded by family.

Killian considered placing the phone back on the bedside table, but then thought better of it. There was yet one more person whose voice he simply must hear before he could sleep. If he couldn’t spend the night with her, perhaps he could at least fall asleep to the beloved sound of her voice. He tapped on his phone for a few moments, and then hit the “Emma” button.

Notes:

--Okay, this chapter didn’t have much CS, and even less with them actually interacting, but it’s the night before the wedding, and Killian is thinking about how much he loves her, so I figured it still counted as a CS Fluffy Fridays story.

--One thing about the CS wedding that disappointed me was the fact that Killian had almost no one important to him present. Not even his one remaining family member. I know Killian’s used to being alone, but I can’t help but imagine the fact that his family was not present at such a family event as a wedding caused him a little bit of pain.

--Up next: (Next week, fingers crossed!) The wedding day with a bit of canon divergence—mainly the fact that The Black Fairy has really been defeated and doesn’t, you know, cast a curse in the middle of their reception. Beyond that, Killian’s future in-laws have a surprise up their sleeves.

NEXT CHAPTER -->

#cs ff #cs fluff #csfridayfluff #fluffy fridays #my fanfiction #6b deleted scene

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whimsicallyenchantedrose · 6 years ago

Text

Fluffy Fridays—Chapter 143: Cupid’s Grenade

Pairing: Captain Swan

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(ao3) (ff.net)

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CS Genre: Canon divergence from early 3b

He crossed the town line into Storybrooke late on the night of February 12th. He walked for half a mile before he reached anything resembling civilization, wanting nothing more than a place to rest and regroup, a place to plan his next move.

It had been an extraordinarily bad year. So much discord, so much division everywhere he turned. It drained his energy, his very life source like nothing had since the last Ogre War. He needed an infusion, and he needed one fast. Thank the gods Valentine’s Day was little more than a day away.

He passed a shop, dark and closed, caught his reflection in the picture window and jumped back, startled, bringing one wrinkled, bony hand to his equally wrinkled, bony face. He was even further gone than he’d previously believed. He could only hope the rumors about this sleepy little town were true.

“Storybrooke, that’s where you want to go,” the seer had assured him. “Not only is it the only source of magic in this land, but it’s brimming with True Love, both that which is acknowledged, and that which is denied.”

If he had any hope to survive the week, he needed that True Love.

If this world had any hope to survive, they needed him just as badly.

He walked slowly, laboriously, looking for the most opportune place. Town hall? No, it emitted angry energy, a place of discord. A brick building with a sign over the door calling itself The Rabbit Hole was promising, but still not quite right. Finally, he arrived at an establishment with tables and chairs on the terrace, a bright, neon sign proclaiming Granny’s.

Perfect.

~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~

The next morning, Granny’s

Killian stepped from his room in the bed and breakfast and headed downstairs to the cafe where he was to meet Swan and her parents for a quick strategy meeting while they dined on Granny’s delectable fare.

He smiled to himself, an extra spring in his step as he walked. The situation in which the residents of Storybrooke found themselves was, once again, less than ideal. An unknown, unnamed villain had cursed them back to Storybrooke and wiped their memories of the past year, and no one had any idea why. He should be concerned; he knew he should, but he couldn’t stop the joy that bubbled up within his heart.

Selfish though the thought was, he was grateful for the villain’s machinations, grateful for the curse.

For it was the curse that allowed him to cross worlds, the curse that allowed him to be reunited with his Swan, the curse that ended the hell that had been the last year without her.

Oh, he’d tried to convince himself that he’d merely needed to return to his pirate lifestyle, but every step he took away from her, away from the hero he’d tried to become for her, had felt wrong, made him feel her loss even more acutely.

Slowly, but surely he’d come to realize that it was more than just the loss of the love of his life that made his pirate activities lose their luster. He’d changed. Not just because of her, but because of himself. He wanted to be a good man, a hero.

Killian stepped into the cafe. Early though it was, the sun had barely come up, the establishment was already brimming with business. He scanned the tables until he saw her sitting at a booth across from her parents.

His heart turned over. She was so bloody beautiful, so bloody precious to him.

He knew she was hesitant to embrace life here in Storybrooke once again. She loved her parents, held at least some amount of affection for him, but the weight of being The Savior hung heavy on her. He couldn’t blame her for wishing to retain the seemingly peaceful existence she’d lived with her lad in New York.

Still, she’d come back with him, had agreed to help her family, the whole town, defeat the newest threat to their safety. He could only hope to one day exhibit half her courage and selflessness.

“Hook, you finally made it,” Swan said, scooting over and patting the seat next to her. “After all your talk about being a pirate and rising with the sun I thought I was going to have to go up and drag your butt out of bed.”

Killian gratefully took the seat next to Emma, using all his willpower to avoid imagining Emma coming to his bed.

“I rise with the sun, darling,” he said with a grin, “but it would seem you lot couldn’t wait for that auspicious occasion.”

Emma looked down, playing with the handle of her mug of cocoa. “Yeah, well we wanted to make sure and meet early enough that we could talk before Henry wakes up. Don’t want the kid to get freaked out with mentions of curses and villains and whatever other crap we need to discuss. He doesn’t have his memories, after all.”

Snow White reached across the table and covered her daughter’s hand on her mug. “Don’t worry, honey. We’ll find a way to bring back Henry’s memories. Somehow. And until then everyone here has agreed to live like that sleepy, normal town we thought we were during the curse.”

Emma glanced aside, a look of guilt on her face, and not for the first time, Killian wondered if she even wanted her son to regain his memories. He could feel the turmoil coming off of her in waves and he wanted nothing more than to wrap her in his arms and sooth the tension away.

But he knew his Swan better than that. She’d rebuilt the fortress around her heart over the last, long year of separation, and it would take him some time to help her disassemble it; some time before his advances were once again tolerated, let alone welcomed.

“Okay,” Emma said, after a deep breath, “so we know someone cursed you. We know a year has gone by that you don’t remember. We know crossing the town line turns people into, I can’t believe I’m going to say this, flying monkeys. Anything else I’m missing?”

“I had a conversation with the dwarfs,” David answered, “and after their latest patrol at the town line, they found…”

Suddenly the door to the diner was slammed open, the bell above ringing angrily. The entire diner went silent, still, as the oldest man Killian had ever seen walked slowly in until he was standing in the very center of the room. Dressed all in red, quite the dapper tuxedo and top hat at that, the man walked, hunched over, leaning heavily on a cane. Every eye was on him as he stopped, looked at the gaudy Valentine’s Day decorations Granny had hung, shaking his head at the Cupid with his bow and arrow, and then reached into his breast pocket.

Killian watched, fascinated as he pulled out a small red object in the shape of a heart, pulled a pin from its center, tossed it to the floor and then slowly began walking away.

“Grenade!” Leroy shouted as the object began smoking.

Chaos ensued as the cafe’s patrons scrambled to reach the exits, but it was clear they’d never be free of the building in time. Killian reacted on instinct, moving to cover Swan’s body with his own just as a large “boom!” filled the diner as the heart-shaped object exploded.

He waited for the shock, the pain as the explosive blasted him, but it never came. He looked up to see nothing but a pink, shimmering cloud billowing from the heart, suffusing the diner, and then dissipating.

For a moment he felt an intense burst of love and longing for the woman beside him, and he instinctively looked down into her startled eyes, but then she blinked, and the spell was over. Killian shook his head and sat up, resuming his own seat on the bench.

For a moment, a shocked silence fell over the room, and then an excited buzz began as Granny’s patrons realized they had indeed survived the...whatever the blazes that had been.

“What the hell was that?!” Emma ground out.

“I don’t know,” Dave said, “but I have a feeling we really need to find out.”

~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~

Later that afternoon

“Cupid? You’re telling me that old guy was Cupid?”

Emma ground her teeth in frustration, keeping her hands resolutely in her jeans pockets lest she do something stupid like grab her pirate (no! Not her pirate) and kiss the daylights out of him.

What was wrong with her?

After the heart grenade had gone off in Granny’s this morning, she, her parents and Hook had found Belle in Gold’s shop to pick her brain, see if she had any idea who the mysterious old man was.

Of all the answers Belle could have given them, “It appears Cupid has come to Storybrooke,” was the last one Emma had expected.

Of course Cupid was real too, because...of course he was.

Belle reached under the counter and retrieved an old book decorated with flowers and hearts. Flipping through several pages, she turned the tome toward them, pointing to a photograph of a very old man.

“That’s him,” Snow said, “that’s the man who...did whatever he did to us.”

“Like I said,” Belle said, turning the book back toward her. “It seems we’ve been visited by Cupid.”

“Who and what is Cupid?” Killian asked from her side. (Emma ground her teeth again, determinedly ignoring the way his velvety voice made the butterflies in her chest flutter and come to life. Ignoring the intense affection she suddenly felt for him. Ignoring the sudden desire to lace her fingers with his.)

“Best I can tell,” Belle said, “he’s a deity of some kind. He, for lack of a better word, feeds on love. It’s his source of sustenance. The more the world around him is depleted of love, the older, frailer he becomes.”

“And what does that have to do with the grenade or whatever that he tossed at us?” Emma asked.

Belle flipped a couple of pages, and then pointed down at a passage of text. “That’s the interesting part. You see, February 14, Valentine’s Day is his big day of love harvest every year. His grenades contain a powerful spell that...encourages love and affection in everyone on which the spell falls. It reaches its peak in 24 hours, which makes today, February 13 the perfect day to launch it.”

Emma groaned. “A love spell? Are you telling me freaking Cupid cast a love spell on all of us? One that won’t wear off until tomorrow?”

“I’m afraid so,” Belle answered.

Well, that was just...just…

Actually that was kind of reassuring.

From the second that damn grenade had gone off, Emma had been feeling things she couldn’t explain, things she didn’t want to feel, things she’d been working hard at denying ever since Neverland, maybe even before.

As soon as the spell had cleared, she’d looked up into Killian’s intense blue eyes and felt wave after wave of want, of longing, of...of...love crash over her. She wanted to hold him, kiss him, hold his hand, touch him.

But that wasn’t the worst part. Physical attraction she could handle. Hook was hot, there was no denying that. Feeling a physical pull to him, that was understandable. If she didn’t think it would give him the wrong impression, she’d have no problem giving into her urges. She’d had plenty of one-nighters in the past.

But it wasn’t just physical attraction she felt following the pink, sparkly cloud. No, it was emotions as well. She had the sudden need to talk to him alone, to tell him that she’d somehow missed him during the last year, even though she didn’t remember him. That some part of her had been so intensely happy to see him there at her apartment door that she could hardly contain herself. That his attempted True Love’s Kiss...she didn’t knee him because he’d assaulted her, she’d kneed him because it felt right, like she was coming home and that totally freaked her out. She wanted to tell him she was glad he’d found her, glad he was by her side, glad he’d brought her home.

But that, all of that, was crazy. She didn’t do emotions, didn’t let herself be that vulnerable with another person, someone who could destroy her if she let him.

So all things considered? Finding out she was feeling all this due to a stupid love potion was a relief.

All she had to do was grin and bear it until the spell wore off tomorrow and then everything would be back to normal.

~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~

Granny’s Bed and Breakfast, February 15, 2 hours before dawn

Emma tossed and turned, her fitful sleep punctuated by dreams. Disturbing, troubling dreams.

Dreams where she walked with Hook, hand in hand, down by the docks. Where they talked and kissed. He smiled at her and she smiled back. They were both radiantly, blissfully happy. He led her back to his ship (where was his ship, by the way? She was pretty sure she hadn’t seen it since they’d come back to Storybrooke), down to his captain’s quarters.

She teased him about his tiny bed, he’d laughed along with her, wiggling his expressive eyebrows in that ridiculous way of his, joking that it wasn’t the size, it was what you did with it. He’d swaggered to her, invaded her space, threaded his fingers through her hair as he leaned down and captured her lips….

Henry mumbled something in his sleep, and Emma woke with a start.

The dream had been so damn lifelike. She could still feel Killian’s hand in her hair, feel his lips against hers. Bringing a hand to her chest, Emma willed her heart rate to slow. Why was this happening to her?

The last 36 hours had been torture. Pure, beautiful, intense torture.

Her feelings for Killian had grown and strengthened as the 13th and then the 14th wore on, and though she knew they weren’t real, knew they were caused solely by Cupid’s stupid love spell, more than once she’d almost cracked, almost thrown caution to the wind and bared her heart to the man who was constantly in her thoughts.

Emma had been half sure Hook would use the curse to try to get close to her. She was afraid he’d declare himself again, try to force her into an awkward conversation about the feelings they held for each other, but she needn’t have worried. Killian seemed no more eager to explore the effects of the love spell than she was. He’d left the library soon after Belle explained their predicament, and he’d kept his distance ever since.

He’s giving you space. He doesn’t want to pressure you, to take advantage. He’s always a gentleman.

Emma felt a rush of affection yet again, and that alone frustrated her beyond belief. It was February 15, the day after Valentine’s Day. Why hadn’t the spell worn off?

Emma groaned, getting up and tossing on a sweatshirt and slippers. Clearly she wasn’t getting anymore sleep tonight. Better she go down to the diner and get some cocoa rather than risk waking Henry with her frustration.

“Hey, Ruby,” she said on a yawn, settling on a stool at the counter. “Hope I didn’t startle you. I know you’re not exactly open yet.”

“Emma!” she said, stepping around the counter and giving Emma a quick hug. “I’m a wolf, remember? Heard you tossing and turning half the night. Something on your mind?”

Emma buried her head in her hands. “Got any cocoa?”

“Uh oh,” Ruby said, turning to give Emma her full attention. “Is this a regular cocoa with cinnamon conversation or a cocoa with rum conversation?”

“Rum,” Emma mumbled. “Definitely rum.”

Ruby tossed her a sympathetic smile, and then turned toward the kitchen. A few minutes later she returned with a fragrant, steaming mug of cocoa. Sliding it Emma’s way, Ruby leaned on the counter. “Okay, spill. What’s going on?”

“So who was it with you?” Emma asked. “You were here the other morning when Cupid dropped his bomb. Who’d it make you think you love?”

Ruby gave her a strange look. “Who’d it make me….? Emma, what are you talking about?”

“You know, the grenade thing,” Emma said. “I figure it made you think you were in love with the closest person to you. Something like that? I was just wondering who it made you love.”

“Emma, you know magic can’t make you fall in love with someone, right?”

Emma shrugged, then took a sip of her cocoa. “I know it can’t create real love, but I mean, it was a spell, right? Maybe it makes people think they’re feeling things they aren’t.”

Ruby’s smile was far, far too knowing. “Hook right?”

“What?”

“After the whole love cloud thing, it was Hook that you fell for.”

Emma groaned, making Ruby smile all the wider. “Knew it! Knew the hot pirate had your panties in a twist.”

“Ruby!”

“Sorry,” she said, looking anything but. “I just call ‘em like I see ‘em, and from what I see of the two of you around here everyday? Yeah the sparks flying from the two of you could start a forest fire.”

Emma felt her cheeks flush and buried her face in her hands again. “Ruby, it was just…”

“Don’t even think about saying it was just Cupid’s grenade,” Ruby said, “because, one, I’ve seen the two of you together since long behind that old man dropped his love bomb on everyone. Two, like I told you, no magic can create love. And three, you know who I suddenly fell in love with?”

Emma looked up, one eyebrow raised in question.

“No one,” Ruby said. “Nothing changed for me at all. You know why that was? It’s because if there is a person for me out there, they’re not here in Storybrooke.”

“But the cloud…”

Ruby shook her head. “Emma, you and your family aren’t the only ones who talk to Belle and do research, you know. After Cupid’s little stunt I paid her a visit too. Wanted to know what was going on as much as you guys did. I discovered that Cupid feeds on love. Real love. True love. Fake, artificially created love would do nothing for him. So his spell doesn’t make people feel things they don’t; it just helps people focus on the things they actually feel.”

Emma’s heart pounded. “So you’re telling me, the hell I’ve been going through for the past day and a half…”

Ruby grinned again. “Yep. You, Emma Swan, have the hots for Killian Jones. Cupid or no Cupid. Besides, Cupid’s spell wore off several hours ago. If it was fake, you’d have gone back to normal by now.”

Emma took one last swig of her cocoa and then carefully placed the mug back on it’s coaster. “So what am I supposed to do with this now? How am I supposed to proceed?”

Ruby shrugged, walking to the diner’s door, turning the lock and flipping the sign to open. “That’s totally up to you, but my two cents? Go talk to him. Tell him what you’re thinking and feeling. That unsettling feeling isn’t going to go away until you do.”

~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~

Killian heard a soft tentative knock on his door and he groaned, swimming reluctantly from the depths of sleep. He’d been having such a good dream, such a beautiful dream. He’d walked with Swan by the docks, taken her aboard the Jolly (how he missed his old girl, though he’d barter her away a million times if it meant he could be with Swan). She’d joked with him about the size of his bunk. He’d kissed her….

Knock, knock, knock

Killian groaned, noting from the pitch black of his window that it was not even dawn yet. He hoped whoever was out there had a bloody good reason for disturbing him.

Tossing on a white undershirt and flannel sleep pants, Killian padded to the door and threw it open.

His irritated “What?” died on his lips when he saw his visitor. Bathed in the soft light of Granny’s hallway, her hair soft against her shoulders, Swan looked like an angel. Killian resisted the urge to pinch himself, half convinced he was still dreaming.

He swallowed hard.

“So, um, can I come in?” she asked with a self-conscious little smile.

Killian snapped his mouth shut and quickly stepped back, gesturing with his hook for her to enter while he flicked the switch that bathed his room with light.

“Of course, love,” he said quickly. “Please, have a seat.”

She looked around and sat on the edge of the second double bed in his room, the one he had not used, and then looked down, picking at a loose thread on the counterpane.

She’s nervous.

Killian’s curiosity was piqued. Why had she come to him at this time of the morning? What could have her so rattled?

“So,” he said finally, when it was clear she wasn’t going to speak first, “what brings you to my room, love?”

“It’s just…” She started, before abruptly standing and turning toward the door. “Ugh, this was a mistake. I’m sorry; I shouldn’t have disturbed you.”

He rose quickly, stepping between her and the door. “Please, Swan. Something’s obviously on your mind. Share your burden with me?”

She took a deep breath, and then nodded.

“It’s the whole Cupid love spell thing,” she said finally.

Killian suddenly looked aside, hand absentmindedly coming up to scratch behind his ear. “Love, you needn’t say anything. I’ve no wish to pressure you, no wish to hear a declaration bourne artificially out of a spell…”

“That’s just it,” she said, stepping into his space, placing her hands on his arms. “I...I...it didn’t go away. The spell wore off yesterday, right? I’m still feeling everything I was feeling then.”

He looked at her quickly, eyes widened, hope blooming within him in spite of himself. “What are you saying, love?”

“I’m saying...look, I don’t know what I’m saying,” she said, taking his hand and pulling him until they were seated, facing each other on his bed. “But there’s, there’s something there between us. I’m really glad it was you that found Henry and me in New York. I’m glad you came back to Storybrooke with me. I, I feel better with you beside me. I’m grateful that you’re there to listen when, you know, things get to be too much. I can’t guarantee I won’t get scared again, and I can’t guarantee I won’t, I don’t know, build walls again, but I just wanted to let you know, at least once, that if we ever just have a peaceful moment in this town...maybe I’d be willing to see where things could go.”

His heart turned over, and he reached up to cup her cheek, couldn’t help himself. Smiling gently, he leaned down and kissed her softly, almost reverently. “Swan,” he breathed on a sigh. “You’ve no need to thank me. By your side is where I’ll always wish to be.”

“Good,” she said softly before leaning in to return his kiss with interest.

~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~

He stopped outside Granny’s Bed and Breakfast and looked up at the single illumined window. Breathing deeply, he smiled to himself. His harvest was complete, and what a harvest it had been!

Passing the same shop he’d passed on his way into town he took a look at his reflection. He stood tall and strong, skin smooth and youthful, hair sandy and neatly combed. He was young and handsome once more.

He started walking toward the edge of town but then stopped, thinking better of it. It was true what they said about this town; it was overflowing with love. Perhaps he’d stick around for a while.

Notes:

--Whew! That was a long chapter, but since it’s a Valentine’s Day fic, I didn’t want to split it up. This was kind of my take on the “sex pollen” trope except, of course, without the sex.

--Up next: (In 2 weeks) Deleted scene from 6a: Killian’s move in day. Killian shows Emma his small trunk of things in much the same way she showed him her box of treasures in 4x5.

NEXT CHAPTER -->

#cs ff #cs fluff #csfridayfluff #fluffy fridays #my fanfiction #cs canon divergences #cs valentine's day fluff

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whimsicallyenchantedrose · 7 years ago

Text

Fluffy Fridays—Chapter 116: Thankful

Pairing: Captain Swan

Other Chapters: ( 1) (2) ( 3) ( 4) ( 5) (6) ( 7) ( 8) ( 9) ( 10) ( 11) ( 12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17) (18) (19) (20) (21) (22) (23) (24) (25) (26) (27) (28) (29) (30) (31) (32) (33) (34) (35) (36) (37) (38) (39) (41) (42) (43) (44) (45) (46) (47) (48) (49) (50) (51) (52) (53) (54) (55) (56) (57) (58) (59) (60) (61) (62) (63) (64) (65) (66) (67) (68) (69) (70) (71) (72) (73) (74) (75) (76) (77) (78) (79) (80) (81) (82) (83) (84) (85) (86) (87) (88) (89) (90) (91) (92) (93) (94) (95) (96) (97) (98) (99) (100) (101) (102) (103) (104) (105) (106) (107) (108) (109) (110) (111) (112) (113) (114) (115) (117) (118) (119) (120) (121) (122) (123) (124) (125) (126) (127) (128) (129) (130) (131) (132) (133) (134) (135) (136) (137) (138) (139) (140) (141) (142) (143) (144) (145) (146) (147) (148) (149) (150) (151) (152) (153) (154) (155) (156) (157) (158) (159) (160) (161) (162) (163) (164) (165) (166) (167) (168) (169) (170) (171) (172) (173) (174)

(ao3) (ff.net)

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CS Genre: Deleted scene, pre 7x2

Growing up, Emma remembered the holidays as a cold, dreary, depressing time. Everywhere she turned there were happy families, basking in the joy of the season. Bright red and green decorations everywhere. Singers crooning about the happiest time of the year. Movies and tv shows about the joy and magic of the holidays.

All it ever did was remind Emma of what she didn’t have.

But that had all changed when she came to Storybrooke and found her family and her true love.

Emma woke early on Thanksgiving morning, a bright smile on her face and a song in her heart. She lay pleasantly cocooned in a mountain of quilts, her husband’s warmth surrounding her, his arm slung over her waist, his hand splayed across her still-flat belly, holding their child close.

It was incredible how much her life had changed in just a few short years. She missed Henry like crazy, especially during the holidays, but other than his absence, her life was about as close to perfect as it was possible to get.

Well…almost. Emma felt her stomach roil as the ever present morning sickness reared its ugly head. She took deep breaths, willing the nausea to subside, but after a minute or two she realized it was useless. Moving as gently as possible so as not to disturb Killian, she got out of bed and nearly sprinted to the bathroom.

She loved this baby with everything in her already, but anyone who suggested pregnancy was fun needed to be committed. Funny, she didn’t remember the first trimester being this miserable with Henry. Oh she’d been a little more tired than normal, and she’d felt a bit sick for a couple of weeks, but it was the emotional turmoil that had been the worst.

It seemed getting pregnant in your early thirties was far different than getting pregnant in your teens. Still, despite the unbelievable fatigue, the morning sickness that seemed to last most of the day, the constant weird cravings, and the times she felt faint, she wouldn’t trade this for anything.

Emma rinsed out her mouth, gargled a bit of mouth wash, splashed some water on her face and padded back to the bed. Killian sat up in the bed, his hair delightfully touselled, and looked over at her in concern.

“Swan?” he asked, pulling up the covers and welcoming her back into the shelter of his arms, “are you quite well, love?”

Emma chuckled humorlessly. “Killian, this kid of yours is trying to kill me.”

If possible, Killian looked even more concerned. “Shall I ring the doctor?”

Emma laughed again. “Killian we’ve talked about this. I’m fine. A bit miserable, but fine. Besides, I think if you call Whale one more time to freak out about a little routine morning sickness, he’s going to come over here and beat you with his stethoscope.”

Emma loved having a husband who wanted to take care of her during her pregnancy, one who loved and wanted this baby at least as much as she did. She loved Killian for it, but his whole concerned husband/mother hen routine had gotten old by about the second day they’d known about the pregnancy.

“Are you sure you should be lifting that love?” he’d asked, as she reached for the throw pillows that decorated their bed.

“A pillow, Killian? Seriously?”

Later in the sheriff’s station, he’d been even worse. “Swan, I’m not altogether sure you should go out on that call. Wouldn’t want anything to happen to you or the baby.”

“Killian, Dopey and Doc got into a fender bender. Just how dangerous do you think responding to that is going to be?”

“Perhaps you’d best take a rest in one of the unoccupied cells, love. You must keep your strength up,” he’d continued.

“Killian stop fussing!”

But the last straw had come when Killian called Whale for the fifteenth time in the first week, concerned about her fatigue and nausea.

“Killian,” Emma said firmly, “I love you with all my heart. I would go (and have gone) through hell for you, but I swear if you don’t stop hovering I’m going to turn you into a ferret. I’m pregnant, not an invalid.

He’d gotten much better since then, but he still watched her like a hawk, ready to come to her assistance at the slightest indication it was needed.

Emma settled into the bed, kissed her husband, and prepared to catch a few more z’s when her stomach growled loud enough to wake the dead. Killian chuckled. “Our lass is demanding nourishment now, is she?”

It was, of course, far too early to know the sex of their baby, but Killian was sure they were having a daughter, and Emma had to admit she had the same feeling.

“She’s famished, as always,” Emma said. “Guess it’s time to get up and see what’s for breakfast.”

Killian stopped her with a gentle hand to her shoulder. “Stay put love. Let me bring my girls breakfast in bed.”

Her heart turned over at the love in his eyes, the way he always wanted to do little things for her. “Certainly not going to turn down an offer like that.”

“And just what does my little princess wish for her morning repast today?”

Emma grinned. “Okay, I know this sounds totally disgusting, but do you know what I’m craving like crazy right now?”

“I couldn’t even begin to guess what noisome combination of food items you desire today,” he said.

“What I really want is a couple of my blueberry Pop-Tarts and a big dill pickle.”

Killian pulled a face, but dutifully shuffled off toward the kitchen.

Emma settled back against the pillows and smiled, putting a protective hand over her belly as she waited for her breakfast. Today was a big day. Today was the day she and Killian told the family their big news. Killian had been so excited when she told him about the baby six weeks ago that he’d been ready to call her father (and his best mate) on the spot, but Emma had stopped him.

“Killian, would you mind terribly if we waited a bit to tell people?” she’d asked hesitantly.

He’d given her a surprised look, but then slowly shook his head. “I suppose not, love, but why shouldn’t we share our joy?”

She’d shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s just so…new and exciting. I was kind of hoping we could celebrate privately for a while, just have this an incredibly amazing secret just between the two of us.”

He’d agreed with her, and in the end, they’d decided Thanksgiving day would be the perfect time to tell the family.

“Your grandma and grandpa are going to be so excited to find out about you, baby,” she whispered softly.

Emma had more to be thankful for this Thanksgiving than she ever had before.

~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~

Thanksgiving dinner had become somewhat of a tradition for the Charming/Swan/Jones/Mills family over the years. The first Thanksgiving dinner they’d had together wasn’t actually on Thanksgiving at all. It was in the middle of the spring, just after the Black Fairy had been defeated. The whole gang (including Rumple, Belle and a newly baby-ized Gideon) met at Granny’s for lasagna and Regina’s famous apple turnovers. Snow had insisted they go around the table and list something they were thankful for. Despite some snark and grumbling (mainly from Zelena), everyone had complied, and a new family tradition was born.

Ever since that day, Thanksgiving dinner had moved to the appropriate day, near the end of November. Granny’s had hosted them for the first couple of years, but when Anton finally succeeded in getting his newly planted magic bean fields to yield, she’d taken to realm hopping over the holidays so she could spend time with Ruby. Now they all took turns hosting.

This year, the Mills sisters had the honor of hosting the big family dinner.

And so it was that early in the evening, Emma and Killian walked hand in hand into the mayor’s mansion, proffering a bottle of rum as a hostess gift.

“This looks like the good stuff,” Emma said, as Killian rang the doorbell, and they waited to be welcomed in. “Too bad I won’t be able to drink it for a good seven months.”

“Don’t worry love,” Killian said with a wink. “I’ll drink enough for both of us.”

For that, he received a (somewhat) playful smack.

Zelena opened the door with an eyeroll. “About time you two arrived. You’re ten minutes late. After hours of slaving away in the kitchen (which is torture without magic), if you ruined a single dish there will be hell to pay.”

“Happy Thanksgiving to you too, Zelena,” Emma said with a grin. “Sorry, we were just…um…delayed a bit, and lost track of time.”

She prayed her face wasn’t flaming as much as she suspected it was. Another side effect of this pregnancy seemed to be that she wanted her husband. Like all the time. And Killian, good husband that he was, was always up to the task. It’s possible they might have gotten carried away this afternoon and been so lost in each other that they totally forgot there was even such a thing as Thanksgiving.

Zelena looked back and forth between them for a moment, and then dramatically rolled her eyes. “Can we just have one day where we’re not all nauseated at the thought of the two of you constantly getting it on?”

Killian smirked as he looked down at Emma, his look pure sin and wickedness. “I wouldn’t count on it.”

And Zeus help her, but she was ready to drag Killian into the nearest private space she could find and have her way with him again. Pregnancy hormones were going to be the death of her (and possibly the death of her pirate as well, considering the look her dad shot him as he walked into the foyer just in time to hear that little exchange).

The Golds had left on their big world tour some five or six years ago now, and of course Henry was off trying to create his own story, but even so, the Mills sisters’ dining room table was nearly filled to capacity between the Charmings, the Swan-Jones’s, the Mills sisters and the two rambunctious kids. (Seriously, Neal and Robyn could get into more trouble together than any ten children Emma knew growing up in group homes.)

Emma settled in with Killian on one side and her mother on the other. Snow leaned over and gave Emma a motherly one-armed hug.

“Something’s different about you today, Emma,” Snow said with a smile. “You’re positively glowing.”

Emma smiled and on impulse hugged her mom back. “I’m just happy, mom,” she said meaning it with her whole heart. “These big family get togethers are more than I ever could have hoped for, despite the inevitable snark-off between Regina and Zelena.”

Snow smiled gently. “I’ll always regret all the years we missed together, but the fact that we can have these moments now, well it’s what I’ve always wanted for our family.”

Dinner, consisting of all the traditional Thanksgiving favorites, was delicious. Emma always secretly loved it when Regina and Zelena hosted Thanksgiving, because magic or no magic, they were amazing cooks. Turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes and gravy, homemade dinner rolls, sweet potatoes and steamed vegetables. All of it was delectable. This year, however, the cranberry sauce nearly made her stomach turn. Right then; so baby Swan-Jones did not like cranberries. It took a few moments of deep breathing and swallowing hard, but luckily Emma was able to push the nausea aside and finish her dinner in peace.

David waited until they’d finished eating, everyone feeling like they’d burst if they consumed another bite, and then stood at the head of the table, clinking his glass.

“Well now that we’ve eaten, you all know what time it is. It’s time for everyone to share what they’re thankful for. Regina, as hostess, do you want to start?”

Regina smiled, waved her hand and produced a small piece of paper. “I’m grateful for this letter Henry managed to get to me yesterday. He’s doing well, and he’s having all types of adventures. Okay, Zelena. Your turn.”

Zelena took a sip of her rum. “I’m thankful Leroy caught laryngitis. His constant town crier act got old about ten years ago. Robyn, darling?”

The little red head grinned, showing off a missing tooth or two. “I’m thankful Mother Superior never found out it was me that put the ‘Shady Blue’ sign on her back.”

This, of course, resulted in admonishment from most of the adults, but Emma turned away to hide her grin.

“Neal, you’re next.”

Neal Nolan, frowned with all of his eight-year-old might and glared at his parents. He, apparently was still put out about his mother forbidding him from having a third apple turnover. “I don’t want to say anything! I’m not thankful!”

David shot him a stern look, and Neal looked back defiantly for another moment, but then dropped his eyes. “Fine! I’m thankful for Wilby.”

Ever since the Charmings had bought their farmhouse and adopted Wilby, dog and boy had been nearly inseparable.

“I guess I’ll go next,” David said after nodding approvingly at his recalcitrant son. “I’m thankful for the life we have now. I’m thankful to be back on a farm, working the land. I’m thankful to have the best wife, son, daughter and son-in-law a man could ever have. Snow? How about you?”

Snow reached over and squeezed her husband’s hand affectionately. “I’m thankful that we’re all here, all together, all happy and healthy. It’s all I ever wanted for this family. Emma? Your turn. What are you thankful for this year?”

Here it was, the moment of truth, the moment she and Killian had been planning pretty much since they got the positive pregnancy test. Emma reached over and linked her fingers with her husbands’.

“Actually, mom,” Emma said, unable to hold back her smile. “This year Killian and I wanted to share what we’re thankful for together.”

A knowing, excited look came into Snow’s face. “Emma, honey? Are you about to tell us what I think you’re about to tell us?”

“Yeah, I think I am,” Emma said, smiling as she looked over at her mom then her dad. “So in just over seven months you and dad are going to be grandparents again. Killian and I are expecting!”

Emma couldn’t have hoped for a better reaction to their big news. From Snow nearly crushing her in a hug, to David patting Killian on the back, to the kids cheering about having a new playmate on the way, to Zelena demanding Regina pay up. “I told you that’s why she wouldn’t drink the rum, Sis. You owe me”, everyone shared their joy. Everyone was ready to welcome the little cygnet into their big, crazy family with open arms.

“We can’t wait,” Killian said, “we’ve wanted this for such a long time, but I was starting to think it would never happen. Not for lack of trying, mind you. Swan and I had plenty of practice over the last couple of years.”

Neal tugged on his dad’s sleeve. “Dad, what kind of practice does he mean?”

It was hard to tell, which was redder, the cranberry sauce or David’s face. “Trust me son. That’s a detail neither you nor I want to know about. At all.”

As Regina and Zelena set about to clear the table, and Snow began talking about the baby shower she was bound and determined to throw for them, Emma looked over at Killian, tears welling in her eyes. He shot her a tender look, reaching up to swipe at her cheek. A lost girl and a lost boy they might have been, but this child, the product of their true love, would know no such heartache. Still months away from greeting the world, and already she had more people that loved her than she’d ever know what to do with.

Never had there been a time when Emma had more for which to be thankful.

Notes:

--*Waves* Hi! Did you miss me? Sorry it’s been so very, very long since I updated Fluffy Fridays, but I recently got a second job as the music coordinator at my church. As you can imagine, especially with Christmas coming up in a little over a month, my fandom related time has been quite a bit limited as a result.

--As I mentioned on Tumblr, I’ve been mulling over what Fluffy Fridays will look like moving forward, and here’s what I’ve come up with: Since CS’s story is effectively done in canon, I think this season will be it for me as far as Fluffy Fridays is concerned, unless I suddenly get a burst of inspiration. 125 chapters seems like a nice, milestone number to end with, so that means I have 9 chapters left to write.

--My tentative update schedule is as follows: Dec. 22, Jan. 12 and 26, Feb. 9 and 23, Mar. 23, Apr. 6 and 20 and May 4.

--As for topics, I’m thinking Christmas, Deleted or Divergent scene for each of seasons 2-6, Lieutenant Duckling, Future Fic, and AU. (No idea what order I’ll write them in, other than Christmas will be in December, and it might be nice to go out on a future fic).

--So if you have any specific requests for any of those topics, feel free to send them my way!

NEXT CHAPTER -->

#fluffy fridays #csfridayfluff #my fanfiction #cs baby fic #cs thanksgiving fluff

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whimsicallyenchantedrose · 7 years ago

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Fluffy Fridays—Chapter 107: The Cygnet

Pairing: Captain Swan

Other Chapters: ( 1) (2) ( 3) ( 4) ( 5) (6) ( 7) ( 8) ( 9) ( 10) ( 11) ( 12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17) (18) (19) (20) (21) (22) (23) (24) (25) (26) (27) (28) (29) (30) (31) (32) (33) (34) (35) (36) (37) (38) (39) (41) (42) (43) (44) (45) (46) (47) (48) (49) (50) (51) (52) (53) (54) (55) (56) (57) (58) (59) (60) (61) (62) (63) (64) (65) (66) (67) (68) (69) (70) (71) (72) (73) (74) (75) (76) (77) (78) (79) (80) (81) (82) (83) (84) (85) (86) (87) (88) (89) (90) (91) (92) (93) (94) (95) (96) (97) (98) (99) (100) (101) (102) (103) (104) (105) (106) (108) (109) (110) (111) (112) (113) (114) (115) (116) (117) (118) (119) (120) (121) (122) (123) (124) (125) (126) (127) (128) (129) (130) (131) (132) (133) (134) (135) (136) (137) (138) (139) (140) (141) (142) (143) (144) (145) (146) (147) (148) (149) (150) (151) (152) (153) (154) (155) (156) (157) (158) (159) (160) (161) (162) (163) (164) (165) (166) (167) (168) (169) (170) (171) (172) (173) (174)

(ao3) (ff.net)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

CS Genre: Future Fic

Emma woke slowly to the sound of her husband’s gentle mumblings. She reached for him, only to be met with a bar on the bed….and an IV in her arm…and machines beeping. What..?

In a rush, it all came back to her. Six hours before, she’d given birth to Eva Ruth Jones, the most astonishingly beautiful baby she’d ever seen…at least since she’d given birth to Henry.

Emma glanced to her left and smiled softly. Killian sat in the ridiculously uncomfortable chair they’d set beside her bed, his tiny daughter cradled lovingly in his hooked arm. Eva’s little hand held tightly to her father’s finger, connected to him even in her sleep.

It was the most beautiful sight Emma had ever seen.

She listened for a moment as Killian spoke of beanstalks and time travel and alternate realities and darkness defeated with true love. He was telling their daughter their story.

“And so, little love,” he crooned, “you need never fear. Your papa’s a survivor and your mother is bloody brilliant. Our love will stand the test of time and every obstacle thrown our way. We are a family, my cygnet, and you need never fear to be left alone.”

Emma’s heart turned over, the tears rushing to the surface.

“No doubt your brother shall write the story of the pirate and the princess, my Eva,” Killian continued, “and your own story too. Your brother Henry is a marvel, little love. What will your story be, I wonder? Shall you be brave and fiery and passionate like your mother?”

“Or,” Emma said, finally letting her family know she’d been eavesdropping, “will she be loving and honorable and courageous like her father?”

Killian looked up, smiling in delight. “I do hope we haven’t woken you, love.”

“No, not at all.” Emma scooted to a seated position, wincing at the soreness the move provoked. “So what’s up? She hungry? Was she crying?”

Killian shook his head, looking down at the baby, running an impossibly gentle finger along her downy cheek. “No, she slept soundly.”

“Well, she’s had a busy day,” Emma answered with a gentle smile.

“Aye.” Killian looked up at her, a tender look in his eyes. “I just needed to hold her, love. I didn’t know; had no idea it would be like this. I love her so deeply I can’t contain it. I’m in awe at the miracle we’ve been given. Such tiny, perfect fingers, such delicate features. To think that it was our love, so overwhelming, so all encompassing, that created her. It brings me to my knees.”

Emma allowed one tear to escape her eye and make its way down her cheek. Killian looked up quickly, adoration changing to concern.

“Are you well, Emma?” he asked, reaching for the button at the side of her bed. “Do you need me to call the nurse?”

She covered his hand with her own, stilling his movements. “I’m fine, Killian. It’s just..It’s just overwhelming you know? I never thought I would get this. Never thought I’d have my son back, and a husband and a baby girl.”

Killian stood slowly, careful not to disturb his sleeping daughter, then leaned over and gently kissed her. “I know. It’s the same for me.”

“The last time I did this…” she continued, glancing away for a second. “Killian, I was chained to my bed. There was no one with me, save the cop who was there to make sure I wouldn’t run. Like that was possible. Not sure how many women make grand daring escapes in the middle of giving birth. Far as I knew my baby’s daddy was the scum of the earth who’d just used me and thrown me away.”

She saw the pain he felt at what she’d gone through during Henry’s birth. She squeezed his hand, wanting to comfort, wanting to reassure. “But this time? This time everything was different. My family waited just outside, hardly able to contain their excitement. My husband stood by my side, not even caring how many choice words I tossed out at him for being the cause of the pain I was feeling. My baby girl was placed in my arms, and I knew she’d be the luckiest, most loved little girl in the world.”

“She’ll have us both forever, love,” Killian said quickly. “And she’ll be the best of both of us. The best of all of us.”

Emma reached up and cupped her husband’s cheek, letting her thumb draw tiny circles. “Here, let me hold her for a while.”

Killian nodded, gently placed the baby in her arms and then took a tiny step back. Emma leaned down and placed a kiss against Eva’s soft forehead just as she saw a sudden flash of light. Looking up, she saw Killian with his “talking phone” in hand, having just snapped a photo.

“Killian!” she protested. “What are you DOING? I look like crap!”

Killian tapped a few buttons and then looked up at her with a mock scowl. “Now, Swan, tread carefully. That’s the mother of my daughter you’re talking about. I’ll not suffer any to speak such calumny about her.”

Emma smiled, but then watched as he typed diligently at his phone again. “Killian, just what are you doing with that picture?”

He nodded in satisfaction and then turned back to her. “Not a thing in the world love.”

Emma groaned. “Please tell me you didn’t post that!”

“Come now, Swan,” he said, sauntering over. “Our friends deserved to know of our joy.”

She groaned again. “Why? Why in all the realms did I introduce you to social media? At least show me what you posted.”

He obligingly slanted the phone in her direction and she read his caption: “Gazing upon the two most beautiful women in the world. I love you more than words could say my Emma, my tiny, precious Eva.”

“Look, love,” he said, pointing toward the screen. “Five minutes and I’ve already gotten fifty likes and thirty-five re-blogs.”

Eva stretched, emitted a soft gurgle and then settled back into sleep. “You know, Killian, we probably should put her back in her bassinette. The memories of Henry I had in the early days may have been ones Regina implanted, but they’re irrevocably burned into my mind. Chances to sleep are going to be pretty few and far between for the next couple of months. Better take advantage while we can.”

Killian took the baby back and held her close for a moment, before finally setting her down. “Aye, I’m sure you’re right love. I just find it difficult to be parted from her.”

“Oh don’t worry,” she said, settling back down on her pillow. “Come next week when she’s screaming at the top of her lungs at two in the morning, she’s all yours.”

Notes:

--So if this story sounds familiar, it’s probably because it’s a “rerun”. This is the 5th chapter (Prequel) to my story “The Girl That I Adore”. I finished the last of my summer AU’s yesterday, and the muse is tired (as is the rest of me; the dog got me up to take him out at 1:30 in the morning), so a new story just wasn’t in the cards for me today.

--I told you I’d give you a story based on a real life event—I was at church the other weekend, and I saw this young couple with their newborn baby. The dad was absolutely adorable with her; checking on her every few minutes, picking her up as soon as she made the slightest squeak, holding her protectively. Meanwhile the mom looked on with a smile. As an added real life bonus, I just got to meet my brand new nephew who was born last Monday! My brother-in-law was a very definite proud papa. Naturally, these things had to be turned into a CS au, because…duh. When I was having trouble motivating myself to write this morning, though, it suddenly occurred to me. I’ve already written a story about Killian being adorable with his newborn. And thus my decision to go with the prequel to The Girl That I Adore.

NEXT CHAPTER -->

#cs ff #cs fluff #csfluffyfridays #my fanfiction #fluffy fridays

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whimsicallyenchantedrose · 7 years ago

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Fluffy Fridays—Chapter 106: On the Way To the Underworld

Pairing: Captain Swan

Other Chapters: ( 1) (2) ( 3) ( 4) ( 5) (6) ( 7) ( 8) ( 9) ( 10) ( 11) ( 12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17) (18) (19) (20) (21) (22) (23) (24) (25) (26) (27) (28) (29) (30) (31) (32) (33) (34) (35) (36) (37) (38) (39) (41) (42) (43) (44) (45) (46) (47) (48) (49) (50) (51) (52) (53) (54) (55) (56) (57) (58) (59) (60) (61) (62) (63) (64) (65) (66) (67) (68) (69) (70) (71) (72) (73) (74) (75) (76) (77) (78) (79) (80) (81) (82) (83) (84) (85) (86) (87) (88) (89) (90) (91) (92) (93) (94) (95) (96) (97) (98) (99) (100) (101) (102) (103) (104) (105) (107) (108) (109) (110) (111) (112) (113) (114) (115) (116) (117) (118) (119) (120) (121) (122) (123) (124) (125) (126) (127) (128) (129) (130) (131) (132) (133) (134) (135) (136) (137) (138) (139) (140) (141) (142) (143) (144) (145) (146) (147) (148) (149) (150) (151) (152) (153) (154) (155) (156) (157) (158) (159) (160) (161) (162) (163) (164) (165) (166) (167) (168) (169) (170) (171) (172) (173) (174)

CS Genre: Canon Divergence (5x12—implied CS, with Gremma brotp)

Emma climbed into the weird boat the wraith had brought when Gold opened the portal to the Underworld. (Seriously, what even was her life? She and her whole family were on their way to hell so that she could split her heart in half and bring her true love back to life.)

To say it had been a rough day would be the world’s biggest understatement. She shuddered, barely holding the wracking sobs at bay. Killian was dead. He was dead, and she’s the one who had done it. There was nothing else she could have done, but still, she’d need therapy for the next four decades to get past the feeling of running her true love through with a sword.

As Emma settled into her seat and felt the gentle rocking of the boat (shouldn’t a boat headed to hell be more…tempestuous?), gradually she felt the exhaustion overcome her.

“Sleep, honey,” Mary Margaret said, putting a motherly arm around her and stroking her hair. “While we have a few minutes of peace, sleep.”

She didn’t want to, wanted to spend their downtime planning and strategizing, but as her eyelids became heavier and heavier, she realized she had no choice in the matter….

Emma opened her eyes and found herself in a forest, a babbling creek in front of her, and a warm, gentle breeze caressed her face. The gentle hum of wildlife around her, the singing of the birds, all of it combined to form an idyllic setting.

What the actual hell?

“Emma, it’s been a long time.”

Emma turned abruptly, her eyes going wide. She’d recognize that Irish lilt anywhere.

“Graham?” she asked, seeing the man himself in his jeans, his bomber jacket, his sheriff’s badge prominently displayed on his chest. “What? How? Is this a dream?”

He stepped forward and cupped her face in his hand, caressed it gently and smiled. “This is no dream, Emma, although you might say you’re in an altered state of reality.”

“Are you in the Underworld?” Emma asked. “Have we arrived?”

He shook his head gently and dropped his hand. “No on both counts. You and your family continue sailing. It will be a few minutes yet before you reach your destination. And as for me?” He looked around, and Emma saw a deer step up to the stream and begin drinking, “I’ve moved on.”

“Moved…on?” Emma asked. “On to where?”

He led her to a fallen log and gestured for her to sit. When she’d done so, he spoke again. “It’s rather difficult to answer that question. Suffice it to say, I have no remaining unfinished business and so I’m at peace.”

They were silent for a moment, and then Emma turned back toward him, feeling the guilt that plagued her every time she thought of the former sheriff of Storybrooke. “Graham,” she said finally, “I…I didn’t get a chance to say this to you before…I mean it all happened so fast. I just…I wanted you to know that I’m sorry.”

He shot her a startled look. “Whatever for, Emma?”

“For this,” she said, “for getting you killed. “If I’d just left well enough alone, not butted into your whole weird deal with Regina, maybe you’d still be alive.”

Graham turned toward her, looking intently into her eyes. “Is that what you think, Emma? That you harmed me? That you caused me pain?” He shook his head. “Nothing could be farther from the truth. Emma, you saved me. You gave me courage to break free and you helped me remember who I truly was and who I wanted to be. I wouldn’t trade that for anything.”

“Really?” Emma asked. “That’s really how you think of our friendship?”

He smiled. “Of course! And look around you. I’ve reached paradise, a land where there’s no fear, no loneliness, no pain, no villains. Just joy and peace and freedom as far as the eye can see. Don’t trouble yourself on my account. I’m happier than I’ve ever been.”

Emma felt the tears well up, glad to have an opportunity to cry for a happy reason for a change.

“I know where you’re headed, Emma,” Graham said, looking suddenly grave. “You wish to save your love from Hades’ clutches.”

Emma felt the panic well up again thinking of what Killian might be enduring. “I have to Graham! It’s my fault he’s dead, and then Gold took away his self-sacrifice. I can’t just leave him there. I can’t!”

“Sh,” Graham said, smiling gently once again. “I’m not asking you to, Emma. It’s quite the noble thing you’re doing and I wish you the greatest success.”

“But?” Emma asked, seeing the reservation in his face.

“The Underworld is a dangerous place,” Graham said. “Hades has all sorts of horrors prepared for the people in his domain, and he won’t give up one of his souls easily.”

“Never expected it to be easy,” Emma said, “but he’s my True Love. If there’s anything I can do to save him, anything, I have to do it.”

“And I would never suggest otherwise,” Graham said. “I’ve no doubt Hades has met his match in you. All I ask is that you be careful. I’d love to see you here again one day, but I’d rather it not be anytime soon.”

“That I can promise you.”

Emma woke abruptly and sat up in the boat, disoriented in the sudden reddish light.

“You okay, mom?” Henry asked, looking over her carefully.

“Yeah,” Emma said, running a hand through her hair. “I have a feeling that we are all going to be just fine. Now let’s go rescue a pirate!”

Notes:

--This story was originally written and posted earlier this week on Tumblr as a birthday present for @snowbellewells.

--I’m not exactly a huge fan of Neal, so, predictably, the scene at the very beginning of 5b where Emma has a dream or whatever of Neal where he tells her not to go to the Underworld just annoyed me. I decided if Emma was going to meet with any of her previous romantic interests on the way to rescue Killian, Graham was the best option.

--Up next: I saw a young couple at church the other day with their newborn baby. The dad was adorable with her. He held her the entire time and couldn’t stop looking down at her. Of course, my first thought (well second after “Aww! That is pretty much the most adorable thing ever!”) was “How can I turn this into a CS fic?” So next week, I think I’ll write a future fic about Killian being absolutely besotted with his and Emma’s newborn baby.

NEXT CHAPTER-->

#cs ff #csfridayfluff #gremma brotp ff #my fanfiction #fluffy fridays

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whimsicallyenchantedrose · 7 years ago

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Fluffy Fridays—Chapter 101: The Fireworks

Pairing: Captain Swan

Other Chapters: ( 1) (2) ( 3) ( 4) ( 5) (6) ( 7) ( 8) ( 9) ( 10) ( 11) ( 12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17) (18) (19) (20) (21) (22) (23) (24) (25) (26) (27) (28) (29) (30) (31) (32) (33) (34) (35) (36) (37) (38) (39) (41) (42) (43) (44) (45) (46) (47) (48) (49) (50) (51) (52) (53) (54) (55) (56) (57) (58) (59) (60) (61) (62) (63) (64) (65) (66) (67) (68) (69) (70) (71) (72) (73) (74) (75) (76) (77) (78) (79) (80) (81) (82) (83) (84) (85) (86) (87) (88) (89) (90) (91) (92) (93) (94) (95) (96) (97) (98) (99) (100) (102) (103) (104) (105) (106) (107) (108) (109) (110) (111) (112) (113) (114) (115) (116) (117) (118) (119) (120) (121) (122) (123) (124) (125) (126) (127) (128) (129) (130) (131) (132) (133) (134) (135) (136) (137) (138) (139) (140) (141) (142) (143) (144) (145) (146) (147) (148) (149) (150) (151) (152) (153) (154) (155) (156) (157) (158) (159) (160) (161) (162) (163) (164) (165) (166) (167) (168) (169) (170) (171) (172) (173) (174)

(ao3) (ff.net)

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CS Genre: Future Fic

Spring slowly sizzled into summer—a particularly hot and humid summer in Storybrooke that had Emma grateful that they had indeed decided to stay in the Land Without Magic, a place where air conditioners were a thing.

Ever since the Black Fairy was defeated a few months ago, she and Killian had responded to far more “cat stuck in a tree” or “Leroy double parked in front of Granny’s” calls than “weird, fairy tale villain intent on world domination just destroyed something” calls.

In fact, they’d had no calls about fairy tale villains. It seemed Storybrooke had finally settled down into a peaceful, sleepy little town, with its requisite cast of eccentric characters.

It had never been the kind of life Emma had imagined she would lead—sheriff in a small town where everyone knows everyone else, married to her true love and so happy she thought she might die from it. But though it might not be the life she’d expected for herself, it was a life she loved with every fiber in her being.

Even when Regina decided to institute regular town meetings to discuss town business. (Seriously, they really were turning into Stars Hollow.) It was at one such meeting about a month ago, that the whole big production had been decided on.

“Now that we’re not, you know, fighting villains every other day,” Leroy had said when Regina called on him to speak, “I think we need to start participating in normal society things. The 4th of July is coming up. Let’s do it up right. Parade, fireworks, the whole shebang.”

Killian leaned over to Emma. “Perhaps I’m missing something love, but what exactly is the significance of the 4th day of July, and why would it call for an unusual amount of festivity?”

Emma smirked, so glad to get back to the business of enlightening Killian about the modern world rather than, you know, trying not to die or trying to keep him from dying. “It’s Independence day in the United States, which is technically the country we live in. Lots of celebrating goes on that day.”

He’d, as usual, wanted to pepper her with about a million questions. Seriously, her husband wanted to know everything about everything. Usually, Emma dealt with it by telling him to go look it up on the “magic box”, aka Internet, but that wasn’t exactly practical during a town meeting. Seriously, Regina was as strict about “no talking!” in her meetings as the most demanding teacher.

“Shhh!,” Emma had said as various members of the town began brainstorming ideas for the best (and, honestly the first) 4th of July Storybrooke had ever celebrated. “You can look it up later.”

In the end they had decided to go with, as Leroy put it, the whole patriotic “shebang”. There would be a parade through the main street of town in the morning—complete with the Storybrooke high school band and various prominent citizens dressed in their Enchanted Forest finest. Emma wasn’t sure exactly what their Enchanted Forest attire had to do with the 4th of July, but she’d long since learned not to question these kind of decisions. It only led to confusion and headaches. Oh so many headaches.

(And to be honest, as the meeting was really ramping up, Emma realized kind of vaguely that she’d been having more headaches lately…along with way more nausea at weird times…and moments where she felt faint…and so much exhaustion she felt like she could barely get out of bed some mornings. Maybe she should make an appointment with Dr. Whale to see what was going on with her, but she thought she’d give it a few more weeks. After all, she’d been under a lot of stress since….well, basically since she moved to Storybrooke, and these weird symptoms were probably nothing more than her body sloughing off the stress and trying to get use to this strange new phenomenon known as “peace”.)

Anyway, the festivities would continue with a town picnic around noon and then fireworks as night fell.

And so it was that Henry and Killian were spreading out a blanket on the hill overlooking town tonight, on the evening of the 4th of July. Emma set her picnic basket on the blanket, and then sat down beside it, reaching for the ginger ale she had always at the ready lately. With a small, secret smile, she put a hand on her flat stomach, both excited and terrified about the news she’d received just the day before.

“And you’re sure we’re quite safe, here, love?” Killian asked as he sat beside her. “I must admit to being more than a little uneasy at the thought of the dwarfs setting off explosive devices for our amusement. It seems like a terrible idea.”

They’d talked about fireworks as soon as they’d returned from the town meeting back in June, and Henry had been amazed that Killian had never seen a fireworks display. “Are you serious?” Henry asked. “You’ve never seen fireworks? Fireworks have been around for like…ever. I know they were a thing in the Enchanted Forest. I saw them in my storybook—during Cinderella’s wedding!”

Killian shrugged. “Oh aye,” he’d said, “I’d heard of them, of course, but as a slave I’d not had much occasion to observe them. And then once I’d become a pirate…well, I was far more interested in causing the explosions than viewing them.”

“But fireworks are way better than just explosions!” Henry had assured. “They’re colorful and sparkly. Sometimes they have special designs. Some of them light up the sky, and others are like…little bursts of bright light and sound. And fireworks displays always have a grand finale and it’s just…I can’t explain it, but it’s awesome!”

“How precisely do they work?” Killian asked. “One lights a fuse and there is an explosion, aye, that I understand, but how do such explosions result in different formations and colors?”

“They just…do,” Henry said, with a little shrug. “I don’t know how it works. I just know it’s amazing.”

“I believe I shall consult Mr. Google, then, lad,” Killian said. “I find it far preferable to understand the mechanisms of my entertainment.”

Of course he did. Emma should have known. It had been two weeks after they’d moved in together before they could have their first family movie night because Killian insisted on researching what movies were, how they were made, how they were projected on screen, and how thin, circular discs inserted in a machine could cause said movies to appear on the “moving picture box”.

Her husband was a full-fledged nerd. A hot one, for sure, but a nerd none the less.

“Yes, Killian,” Emma said, coming back to the present and laying her head on her husband’s shoulder. “I’m sure everything is totally safe. Leroy’s got everything organized. Just relax and enjoy the show.”

“I shall attempt to do so,” Killian said, “but I fail to see how colorful lights can elicit as much excitement as you and the lad…ooooooh!”

Emma giggled as the first firework—a large one that changed color from red to white to blue, lit up the Storybrooke night sky. Killian looked up at the display in wonder, his eyes wide as saucers, a soft, boyish smile draping his face.

Sometimes she looked up at him and it just overwhelmed her all over again how much she loved him. Now was one of those times. She felt the tears come to her eyes, and Killian looked down at her in concern. As usual, he could sense her moods.

“Is all well, Swan?” he asked in concern, reaching up to catch the single tear that fell from her eye.

“It’s more than alright, Killian,” Emma said. “It’s perfect. All of this is perfect. I just love you so much, and I love our life together, and I don’t know what I ever did to deserve it, but life is just about perfect right now.”

He smiled tenderly, and leaned in to kiss her, but just before their lips connected, another firework went off, and Killian turned back to the light display. Emma smiled, laying her head once again on his shoulder as Henry wandered off to find Violet and watch the show with her.

The fireworks went on and on, and as they moved closer to the grand finale, Emma heard one of the dwarfs (she thought it was Happy’s job?) start the music. It had been decided that they would end the fireworks display with the 1812 overture, complete with the big finale coming during the cannon fire in the music.

Of course, as soon as it had been decided, Killian had gone to the library and pestered Belle for any information she could give him about the piece of music.

“The customs of this land are incomprehensible, love,” Killian had said that night as he helped her make dinner. “Why is it customary for this ‘1812 Overture’ to be played at celebrations of this country’s founding? The founding did not happen in 1812, but a generation before. What’s more, the piece was written to commemorate an event that has nothing to do with the United States. That Tchaikovsky fellow wrote the piece to commemorate the moment the Russians defeated Napoleon in his attempts to take over Russia. (Incidentally, is it only me, love, or does this Napoleon sound significantly like the Crocodile? Small in stature, lust for power, dreams of world domination…)”

“I really don’t know why the 1812 is so popular,” Emma said as she carefully pulled a casserole from the oven. “It just…is.”

“And it’s full of nationalistic anachronisms,” Killian had continued.

“What’s full of…what?” Henry asked, filching a roll from the bread dish and sitting at the table.

Emma rolled her eyes. “Your step-dad was about to explain about all the nationalistic anachronisms (whatever those are) in ‘The 1812 Overture’.”

“Quite so,” Killian said. “The piece features the French national anthem, La Marseillaise, for example, but in 1812, the song had been banned by Napoleon (the total ponce). Furthermore, the piece utilizes the Russian anthem ‘God Save the Tsar’ near the end, but it had not yet been written as of 1812. Not much of a historian, this Tchaikovsky.”

Henry groaned. “Mom, I think we need to ban him from the library. I already have to suffer through history lessons in school. Don’t need them when I get home, too.”

A particularly loud volley of fireworks brought Emma back to the present.

“So, are you enjoying your first 4th of July?” Emma asked.

“It’s been quite enjoyable, Swan,” Killian said, “but than any day I get to spend with you and the lad is.”

Emma’s nerves began dancing within her stomach (or was that just the nausea again). The moment was just about here. As soon as she’d learned the news from Whale, she’d decided she’d tell Killian just at the climax of the fireworks show. She wanted to make this moment special.

She just hoped he was as excited about the news as she was. They hadn’t talked much about it. This wasn’t something they’d planned; it had just sort of…happened. What if this wasn’t what he wanted?

“Anything the matter, Swan?” Killian asked just as the cannon began to boom in the music.

“No,” Emma said, taking a deep breath. “Something’s actually pretty great. At least I hope you think it is. I mean, I do, but we haven’t talked about it and…”

“Swan,” Killian said, looking more concerned than ever, “out with it, love.”

Emma took a deep breath, and then leaned in and whispered in his ear. “Killian, in about 7 ½ months you’re going to be a daddy again.”

His eyes got round again, as he sat up abruptly. “A father? I’m to be a father? You’re with child?”

She smiled tremulously. “Yeah, Whale thinks I’m about 6 weeks along. Are you…are you happy about it? I mean I know we haven’t really discussed it and this is a surprise and…”

He cut her off with a swift, passionate kiss, his hand moving to rest on her still flat belly. When he pulled back, there were tears in his eyes. “How can you even ask that, Swan? Of bloody course I’m happy. A baby! A product of our love! I do believe my life is now absolutely perfect!”

Emma leaned over and kissed him, the tears streaming from her eyes as overhead the fireworks celebrated right along with the Savior and her Pirate.

Notes:

--I wasn’t sure where I was going to go with this week’s story, but as I was watching my own hometown’s fireworks display on the 4th, it suddenly came to me. I wanted to see Killian’s reaction to fireworks. Next came the plan for the CS pregnancy, because who doesn’t want a little CS coffee bean? Finally, I dug into my music history knowledge (and Killian being surprisingly good at research) for the bit about the 1812 Overture. And chapter 101 was born!

--Up next: Not sure, but I’ve been doing a lot of future fics lately, so I’d like to bring in a little variety. Whether that comes in the form of a deleted scene, a canon divergence scene or an au story….I guess you’ll just have to wait and see.

NEXT CHAPTER -->

#cs ff #csfridayfluff #fluffy fridays #cs fanfiction #my fanfiction

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whimsicallyenchantedrose · 7 years ago

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Fluffy Fridays—Chapter 95: The Magic Mirror

Pairing: Captain Swan

Other Chapters: ( 1) (2) ( 3) ( 4) ( 5) (6) ( 7) ( 8) ( 9) ( 10) ( 11) ( 12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17) (18) (19) (20) (21) (22) (23) (24) (25) (26) (27) (28) (29) (30) (31) (32) (33) (34) (35) (36) (37) (38) (39) (41) (42) (43) (44) (45) (46) (47) (48) (49) (50) (51) (52) (53) (54) (55) (56) (57) (58) (59) (60) (61) (62) (63) (64) (65) (66) (67) (68) (69) (70) (71) (72) (73) (74) (75) (76) (77) (78) (79) (80) (81) (82) (83) (84) (85) (86) (87) (88) (89) (90) (91) (92) (93) (94) (96) (97) (98) (99) (100) (101) (102) (103) (104) (105) (106) (107) (108) (109) (110) (111) (112) (113) (114) (115) (116) (117) (118) (119) (120) (121) (122) (123) (124) (125) (126) (127) (128) (129) (130) (131) (132) (133) (134) (135) (136) (137) (138) (139) (140) (141) (142) (143) (144) (145) (146) (147) (148) (149) (150) (151) (152) (153) (154) (155) (156) (157) (158) (159) (160) (161) (162) (163) (164) (165) (166) (167) (168) (169) (170) (171) (172) (173) (174)

(ao3) (ff.net)

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The Magic Mirror

CS genre: Deleted Scene/Canon Divergence (2x6)

Emma took a deep breath and looked around the huge, cavernous room, trying desperately to ignore the cocky pirate at her side. Her hand still tingled where he’d held it and bandaged it with his scarf. Not that she had any intention of telling him that. The stupid pirate was way too full of himself as it was.

Still, from the looks of things around this place, she was going to have to suffer through his company for quite a while more. There was treasure and junk piled everywhere. How the hell were they ever going to find the magic compass?

“They horded all of their greatest stolen treasures in here,” Hook said, picking up a golden coin, putting it to his nose and breathing it in. “Piles of jewels, and every room filled with coins.”

Great. Not only did they have a warehouse full of crap to sift through, it looked like her sticky-fingered companion was going to get distracted by everything that sparkled.

“Let’s get to it; the compass,” she said.

Hook played with the gold coin, letting it sift back and forth through his fingers. “What’s your rush.”

Emma crossed her arms. The idiot was going to get them killed. “How long do you think magic knock-out powder lasts?”

“I’ve no clue.”

“That’s my rush.”

Hook tucked the pilfered coin in the little pouch hanging from his belt, a satisfied smile on his face. “Too right, lass. Come, everything we need is right in front of us.”

Emma rolled her eyes. Everything in the world was right in front of them. If they managed to find the stupid compass in under a month it would be a miracle.

Well, there was nothing to do for it but to dig in. Too bad she couldn’t just say “Accio compass!” like in Harry Potter. But magic wasn’t real…at least for normal people like her. Gold may have brought magic to Storybrooke thanks to a potion he made from her parents’ true love (what even was her life?), but that wasn’t going to help her find a golden compass at the top of a beanstalk.

Emma had searched for a good half hour—keeping one eye on the giants’ treasure and one eye on Hook to make sure he didn’t double cross them all—when she caught a glimpse of something truly odd. She caught a glimpse of herself. Sifting aside golden coins, she found the source of the image. It appeared to be a large, gilt-framed mirror with some sort of weird inscription along the top.

But it wasn’t a mirror like any she’d ever seen. It wasn’t showing her reflection; it was showing her standing in some sort of jungle. As she watched, fascinated, the Emma in the mirror turned around and gazed at none other than Captain Hook.

Emma gasped.

“Have you found it, love?” Hook asked, ambling over to her side.

“The compass, no,” she said, never taking her eyes from the images playing out before her like some kind of psycho movie, “but I found something else. Any idea what it is?”

Hook perused it for a moment and then nodded. “See the inscription along the top? ‘Et tenere in posterum’.”

“Yeah,” Emma said, turning to look at the words to which Hook was pointing. “That mean anything to you?”

“Aye,” Hook said. “In Latin, it says ‘I hold the future.’ It would appear you’ve found some manner of magic mirror, darling, one which shows our future.”

Emma turned her eyes back to the mirror itself, watching as her “future” self conversed cautiously, while future Hook swaggered closer and closer to her. “Any ideas why we’re in a jungle in the quote un-quote future?”

“I’ve no clue, where we…oh bloody hell! That’s Neverland!”

“Seriously?” Emma asked, turning to look at the current pirate standing beside her. “Neverland? The place of wonder and belief where children get to go in their sleep? We’re going with that?”

“I can assure you, Emma,” Hook said, “Neverland is quite real, and it’s anything but a place of wonder. A bloody nightmare, more like it.”

After holding Emma’s eyes for another moment, Hook turned back to the scene playing out before them and abruptly chuckled appreciatively.

“What?” Emma asked, turning back to the mirror in time to see mirror Hook look at her other self from beneath deeply hooded eyes, his index finger tapping his lips suggestively. She gasped, as she watched herself grab Hook by the lapels, pull him in and kiss him. Not just kiss him, but go for a full on makeout session.

Hook—real Hook on the beanstalk with her—sidled yet closer to her, so close she could feel the heat radiating from his body, and hummed in satisfaction deep in his chest. “Despite the hellish location, darling,” he purred into her ear, “that is a future I could very much appreciate. It would seem the future you is far from insensible to my considerable charms.”

Emma’s pulse sped up, both at the steamy sight in the mirror and at the nearness of the man beside her. He was hot, she’d give him that. He had seduction down to a fine science, but she’d be damned before she stroked his ego…or any other part of him. Time to put some space between them. She took a step back and whirled to face him, anger flashing in her eyes. “Look bud, I don’t care what some stupid magic mirror says! If you think I’m ever going to give you the satisfaction of…”

Hook’s gasp and widened eyes stopped her abruptly, and she turned back to the mirror in time to see the images swirl and then right themselves.

Only this time she and the pirate weren’t in some jungle in “Neverland”. It looked like they were on the roof of a building in Storybrooke; she could see the clock tower in the background. But that wasn’t the shocking part. The shocking part was that the two of them were standing under a bower of flowers dressed in a tux and a wedding dress, Archie standing before them like some sort of officiant.

It was the most ridiculous thing she’d ever seen.

Upon that, if nothing else in the world, it seemed she and Hook were in agreement. He cursed softly, watching as the Hook in the mirror obviously spoke vows filled with love and emotion. (They may not be able to hear the scene before them, but Hook’s eyes, his expression, his whole demeanor was unmistakable.)

“What the devil am I wearing?” Hook said when he was finally able to speak.

Emma rolled her eyes. “I see you’re focused on the important details.”

“Swan that attire is bloody ridiculous!”

“Hook, that ‘attire’ is normal wedding wear,” she said, “and believe it or not, you can survive without unbuttoning your shirt to your navel. Your chest hair won’t suffocate.”

“I’m not willing to take that chance.”

Emma rolled her eyes again, then looked back at the mirror where her future self looked up at Hook with love and joy in her eyes as she spoke her own vows and then slid a ring on his finger. But it wasn’t her own expression that shocked her most, it was future Hook’s. He gazed on mirror Emma as though she was the sun and stars to him, as though she were everything to him. She wouldn’t have even guessed it was possible for a man to look at a woman with that much adoration.

And for a brief moment she wanted it, wanted it more than she’d ever wanted anything. Oh not that she wanted Hook, of course. She could live just fine without Captain Innuendo, thank you very much. But she wanted the kind of love she saw in his eyes. She wanted to matter to someone; really matter to someone. Ever since Neal, she’d given up on the idea that love, true love actually existed, at least not for someone as broken as her, but this mirror…well it seemed to tell her that maybe love was possible after all.

Hook gasped, cursing once again as mirror Hook kissed mirror Emma, dipping her slightly, and then moving directly into their first dance. Reality intruded once again.

“Look, Hook…” she started as the mirror swirled yet again. “This isn’t our future. This can’t be.”

“Aye,” Hook said, troubled expression on his face. “Quite right, love. Though I’d hardly object to you having your wicked way with me, as the first images seem to imply, I’m afraid the second scene is quite impossible. I shall go to my grave mourning my first love, my Milah. There’s room in my heart only for vengeance now.”

“I get it,” Emma said, turning back to the mirror and watching the images continue to swirl together. “Love like that isn’t possible for me either. Some people just aren’t meant for the epic fairy tale ‘true love conquers all’ story.”

He hummed in agreement.

“And as for that jungle makeout session,” she said, frowning, “in your dreams buddy. Despite what you may think, you’re not God’s gift to women.”

“Oh you’ve no idea just what a gift a man as skilled in the art of coupling as I am can be,” he said, his voice turning once more silky, seductive.

Emma rolled her eyes yet again, watching in both anticipation and dread to see what the mirror might show them next. But when the swirling images righted themselves this time all Emma saw was the reflection of her and Hook standing in the giant’s lair looking into an ordinary mirror.

The inscription along the top abruptly shuffled and changed.

“Futurum nunc est occultatum,” Hook muttered. “The future now is hidden.”

Emma opened her mouth, intending to ask what the hell that meant when a pleasant fuzzy feeling overtook her. Suddenly the images from the mirror dissolved in her mind, an uncertain fog taking their place.

“What…” Emma asked, turning toward Hook. “What was it we saw in that mirror? What was the supposed future?”

“I…I cannot recall love,” he said, frowning in obvious confusion. “It is all a blur.”

“I guess that’s what the mirror meant by ‘The future is hidden’,” Emma said.

“Aye,” Hook said with a shrug. “To know the future one runs the risk of destroying it. It would seem we simply must wait and see what our future brings.”

Emma’s breathing caught at his use of the words ‘we’ and ‘our’, and her reaction made her angry with herself. “There’s no ‘us’. There is no ‘our future’. Now all I care about is finding the damn compass and getting home to my son. You going to help?”

“As you wish, Swan,” he said bowing slightly, as he turned back to the pile of treasure at his feet and began sifting through.

Notes:

--Happy Friday everyone! Today’s story was the fulfillment of a prompt by Soul_of_Ink on ao3: Season 2 fic about Emma and Hook getting a glimpse in the future of season 6. I thought what better place and time to set this fic than where it all began—on the beanstalk!

--I obviously expanded the prompt to include not only a glimpse of season 6, but also a glimpse at their first kiss in season 3, because my philosophy in life is that one should relive the Neverland kiss whenever s/he has the opportunity. :-)

--As for the “genre” of this story? Well, I’d say an argument could be made for either deleted scenes or canon divergence scene, so I considered it both.

--Up next: Yet again, I don’t know where I want to go next, feel free to let me know what genre (deleted scene, canon divergence, future fic, AU, Lieutenant Duckling) you’d like to see next. I have prompts from all of those categories. Also, stay tuned! The muse is in overdrive right now. I’ve got two MCs currently in the works (and by “in the works”, I mean in the very, very early planning stages at the moment). One will be a “what I wish we could get for season 7 although I always knew it wasn’t going to happen” story about Emma and Killian’s honeymoon to all the different realms they’ve visited over the course of the show. The other is my first foray into the genre of Captain Duckling. When the Black Fairy curses all of Misthaven and then plans to kill Emma, the only one who can break the curse, Snow and Charming enlist the last person the Black Fairy would suspect to transport their 21 year old daughter to safety: The infamous pirate Captain Hook.

NEXT CHAPTER -->

#cs ff #csfridayfluff #fluffy fridays #cs canon divergence #cs deleted scene #my fanfiction

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