She was his wife now. He couldn’t stop beaming at her, as she smiled and twirled and glowed with happiness.
Captain Hook, a married man. Married to the Savior no less, but even so: married.
He recalled the days when he pined after this woman, wondering if she might ever see him as something more than just a pirate.
Only in his most wondrous dreams did he ever think she would be his wife.
He stared at the ring on his hand. Somehow, the curse had left it untouched.
A wedding band. His wedding band.
It had been real. No curse could take that from him.
But it could take something else from him: his wife.
Climbing the beanstalk without his wife was eerie.
Bloody hell, he’d been teasing her at the time, hoping to unsettle her enough to get her to reveal more information about herself. The more he understood her, the better he could use her.
You never forget your first. How little he’d realized how much that would come to mean.
Last he’d been here, she’d been a reluctant ally who had, hours earlier, been fully prepared to let him die at the hands of ogres.
Now, she was his wife.
He was about to see his wife die.
There had been a small glimmer of hope this whole time, that she could defeat prophecy and visions as surely as she’d defeated so much darkness before.
But not now. She’d tossed aside her sword. Gideon was going to run her through, while the rest of them just watched.
While he just watched.
Watched as someone killed his wife.
His wife lay in his arms, with her head on his chest. He stared down at her left hand, which rested on top of his right; they’d found her rings in the little ring dish in the bathroom, much to her relief.
He was lying in bed with his wife. He chuckled weakly.
“What?” she asked.
“You’re my wife.”
She laughed gently. “Yeah, I know. And you’re my husband.”
These are rated from the least significant one to the most significant one as I see it. I think the ultimate one is the re birth of Killian, because there was no better reunion than after they had their ultimate goodbye, thinking there’s no chance in hell (see what I did there?) that they will meet again.
For the second most important I chose the bed scene. Even Jen knew the importance of that one when she excitingly added the bed to the bed scene lol.
cs future family — ღ —
CaptainCharming II CaptainCobra — “I broke down crying in your Grandfather’s arms the night my daughter was born…” — or, you
know, the night the wee babies are born and how these guys handled the whole
(slightly)angsty fluff? :)
This is obviously never in a million years happening in canon, but I’m still craving already all the Daddy!Killian/Grandpa!Killian
fluff, so here’s THIS anyway! I very selfishly needed it! :D Flashbacks are in
wishes he knew the exact way or words to help the lad. He knows in his heart
that everything is going to turn out fine regardless, but he still wishes Henry knew this as
he knows, oh Killian knows rationally
Henry probably knows everything’s going to be okay already, but Killian also knows, from his own experience,
that right this second, rationality isn’t exactly first on Henry’s mind.
he waits it out. Killian doesn’t exactly want to approach Henry with his
unsolicited opinion, but he still knows the two of them are bound to exchange
some words at some point this day anyway.
knows it’s not the right time yet though. The lad is seemingly trying to appear so
tough and in control of the whole situation and Killian respects that.
has to commend him for it even; he’s doing a much more believable job than Killian
ever did once upon a time when he was in Henry’s shoes.
to say, Killian Jones can’t be prouder of his lad right now.
— ღ —
He’s losing it.
He’s shaking and he feels as though
someone has a very tight grip on his heart right now. He feels sweaty
and tingly —as though he’s being suffocated from the inside out. He tries to
force himself to breathe but it comes out shallow and rapid. He shudders; eyes
squeezing against the tears he doesn’t wish to cry.
His chest almost hurts and he wants— he
doesn’t know what he wants —he just needs to do something, but he’s useless.
All evening he’s done nothing but watch and it’s —it’s too bloody much for him
Killian turns facing a wall, his palm flat
on the cool surface steadying him. He doesn’t trust his legs to hold him up so
he leans heavily onto the wall, his forehead touching its surface. He breathes,
harshly and unsteady, he wants to scream really —cry perhaps too, out of
“Breathe,” a voice calls, and Killian
hears it muffled by the sound of his very own heart pounding in his ears.