[  tangled. ]

“Dammit, now we’re all tangled.”

“We’ve been tangled for some time, love.”

“Cute. Here, lift your arm and I’ll put this cord over…”

“Actually, I think you need to reach ‘round my back…”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Swan, I am a sailor and an expert in the tying and untying of knots. Go on, arms around me. That’s a lass. Now I’ll put my arm here and my hand here…”

“How is this helping.”

“Oh it’s definitely helping, darling, I promise. Now step closer, mmmhmm, good.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“And yet, you seem quite happy to be tangled with me.”

“Maybe a little.”

“Just a little? Hmm, that rainbow burst of magic we conjured not too long ago seems to suggest otherwise.”

“Fine! Maybe a lot.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Dedicated to my most precious kittens in the whole wide world, the-lady-swancaptainhand, in hopes to bring some much needed cheer.

4

captain swan au :: siren!emma

On his quest to find a way back to our world and restore Emma’s memories, Killian encounters a siren that takes the form of the person he loves the most. And in a moment of weakness and missing Emma; he gives in.

“Quit doing that.”

“I’m not doing anything,” he smiled, knowing full well she couldn’t see it with her eyes closed, even though it perfectly matched hers. 

Emma rolled her shoulder to try and push his hand away, but it was to no effect. His thumb kept tracing the seam of her shirt as her hand tightened in his.

He knew it wasn’t napping; he knew she knew he wasn’t trying much at all. Having two hands to hold her with was something he didn’t think he’d ever get again. He planned on thanking her in every quiet moment they got.

Her mother is taking their pictures on the beach and she’s holding his hand as they walk, newly married toward nowhere in particular. He’s smiling and the sun is warm on her side. It’s the perfect day for a wedding and she’s never been happier that it’s with Killian Jones.

She squeaks when he suddenly spins her toward him and laughter bubbles from her lips, meeting his eyes before he wraps his arms around her middle and murmurs, “Hold on to me, Mrs. Jones.”

Emma narrows her eyes but does as he says, laughing again when he takes her bare toes from the sand and holds her snug against him for a kiss, sweet and warm with the gentle crashing of waves beside them.

And she’s struck with a thought, as her new husband presses her back down into the sand, his forehead pressing against her own, that maybe Happy Endings aren’t as wonderful as the stories make them out to be- maybe they’re even better.