Once you have read a book you care about, some part of it is always with you.

— Louis L’amour (via psych-facts)

21 September 2014 ♥ 26873


Books have a way of making you homesick for a place you have never been.

16 September 2014 ♥ 155387

Storybrooke has frozen over.
(More posters here.)

Storybrooke has frozen over.

(More posters here.)

16 September 2014 ♥ 1313
A Pause, a Moment (before we go on) -- A CS Ficlet →

Summary: This just came into my mind after listening to “Tenerife Sea” by Ed Sheeran one too many times. Go listen for feels (x) . Emma and Killian find a moment in the midst of everything.

Spoilers: Very minor for S4

Disclaimer: Not mine, or else we would already have little pirates…

16 September 2014 ♥ 103


Killian, come b a c k to me.

15 September 2014 ♥ 984
A Pause, a Moment (before we go on) — A CS Ficlet

Summary: This just came into my mind after listening to “Tenerife Sea” by Ed Sheeran one too many times.  Go listen for feels (x) .  Emma and Killian find a moment in the midst of everything.

Spoilers: Very minor for S4

Disclaimer: Not mine, or else we would already have little pirates everywhere.  


"And then we really should see about…"

Snow’s voice muffles as she walks ahead down the docks, a stream of tasks flowing from her lips—byproducts of their most recent encounter with the still mysterious Snow Queen.  Above him, the stars sparkle quietly in the deep blue-black of the night sky, and he tilts his head back as he walks to gain a better view.  Ahead, Regina’s voice gives a sardonic reply, and David’s jumps in soon after, but he can’t seem to bring himself to listen.  The day started almost sixteen hours ago with one stroke of bad luck followed by a long futile trudge through the town’s surrounding forest.  His back and legs ache and his eyelids struggle to stay open as he scans the stars, sluggishly listing the names of this world’s constellations in his mind. 


Her voice cuts quietly through the tired fog of his musings, and he snaps his head forward to meet her equally exhausted features.  He’s standing still now—her parents and Regina far ahead, their voices merely muted ambient tones against the lapping of the water along the dock. He gives her a sheepish grin,

"Ah, sorry ‘bout that, love," his hand raises to rub a well worn path behind his ear, " Got a bit distracted I’m afraid."

Emma gives a small shrug, a faint chuckle escaping her lips as her gaze casts over his face, and she steps closer, sliding effortlessly into the space in front of him until he could easily reach for her,  

"I doubt we’re missing anything that won’t be rehashed and planned again by tomorrow."  Her eyes meet his with a conspiratory glance that catches in the soft lighting of the realm’s lampposts,  turning her gaze a deep sea aquamarine that makes his breath catch.  

Taking the last step forward, he circles his arms around her waist, his grin widening at the instinctive way she brings her hands to his chest, her fingers clenching the soft leather of his new jacket and pulling him even closer.  Her answering smile causes her eyes to glimmer and his heart to stutter as he loses himself in her stare, drowns himself in the eddies of affection he finds there—a heady mixture of disbelief and warmth radiating through him.  

Somedays he can’t quite believe that they made it here. That the gods allowed her to save him.  

After a moment he resurfaces, noting fondly how equally mesmerized she seems to be as well.  There’s a small smudge of dirt along her left cheek, compliments of an icy gust of wind knocking her to the forest floor; a trail of dust down her neck from the hours spent this afternoon pouring over magical tomes; and her eyes have faint purple marks circling underneath them from one too many early calls this week.  The air seems to leave his lungs in a sudden rush.

Because gods, she is still beautiful. 

His left hand (an extremity he is still becoming accustomed to having again)  moves of its own accord to thread lightly through the silky strands of her golden hair, the way it gleams in the lamp glow an enchantment all its own.  Her eyes flutter at the sudden gesture, and she tilts her head slightly as she continues to study him,  gaze locked with his in a silent conversation all their own. 


How are you?

I love you. 

Because even though they haven’t said the words aloud yet; it’s the moments like this one that leave him with no doubt that that is where they are headed—that all of the moments past and the ones future will eventually circle round to those three words that have been said a thousand times with just their eyes.  His hand slides from her hair to her cheek, thumb stroking gently along the smooth skin of her jaw, chest constricting at the way she leans into his touch.  

He’s the luckiest man:  to have her love him.  

"Aye,"  he begins softly again, leaning his forehead against hers with a quiet sigh, "I suppose you’re right Swan."

Blue-green orbs turn mischievous, “Well of course I am.” 

Her breath huffs against his cheek, and he finds himself chuckling at her boast before her lips cut him off with a kiss that both steals his breath and revives him at the same time.  Pulling back, she gives him a sly grin before tucking her head under his chin, her arms moving naturally around him, bringing their bodies flush.  His arms drop reflexively to her waist once more as his pulse pounds in his ears and his mind conjures up a thousand different ways to return her most recent assault on his senses— he stifles an abrupt yawn—all of which will most likely need to wait until tomorrow when he feels less like one good push would do him in.  

Glancing up along the expanse of the docks, he suddenly notices the rest of their contingency is long gone.  He can almost hear Regina’s impending passive aggression and the Charmings’ worry. With a heavy sigh,  he regretfully begins to unwrap himself from her embrace, 

"Perhaps we’d better be getting on to…"  But Emma interrupts his words with a soft hush,  tightening her arms around him, 

"Just enjoy the moment Killian."  She turns her head to press a soft kiss underneath his jaw before burying her face again in his neck,  "They’ll be fine without us for a little while."  

She breathes him in deeply, sighing softly against his skin as she relaxes further into him, and he feels all further arguments about her family’s worry and appearances die in his throat as he rests his chin against the top of her head and resettles into her arms.  Her warmth radiates through him, and as much as he regards this realm’s clothing with a mixture of caution and confusion, he has to admit that the jeans and jacket he is wearing now allow him to appreciate the soft lines of her form against his far better than the heavy salt hardened leather of his past attire. 

With a small hum of contentment, she nuzzles her nose against his neck, and his heart stammers at the confident affection she now displays so easily with him.  The fact that she even returns his feelings at all a bewilderment to him still even after all of the weeks that now lay between them.  

He silently thanks whatever deities there are for the second chance at life she’s given him.

Pressing a fleeting kiss to her temple, he breathes in deeply, the salty smell of the ocean mixing with the cinnamon-vanilla spice that was uniquely Emma Swan.  A happy warmth settles in his chest.  The sea and her—he couldn’t ask for anything else.  He had somehow got everything he needed.  

He takes another deep breath,  closes his eyes and holds her imperceptibly closer.   Tries to commit the feel of her to memory before the chaos of Storybrooke seeped back in.  Follows her lead and allows himself to be taken under by the moment.

And hopes for a lifetime more. 

15 September 2014 ♥ 103


"you’ll understand when you’re older"

i am older and i understand absolutely nothing

14 September 2014 ♥ 44623
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