Somehow these moments really reminded me of one another. I thought at first that it was because of Hook looking on her hand placed on his hand (or his hook), but then I realized it wasn’t that. It’s because of his tormented face just before she’s doing it and his reaction to it.
In both cases there was a huge thing between them. A secret/ dealing with a revealed secret. And in both cases you can see his state of mine because of it, he’s completely tormented. And then, at the middle of the storm that goes on within his head, comes her touch. And you can see his reaction to it. It’s like a cold bandage that someone placed on your head when you have fever. Her touch brings his mind to calmness, even if it’s just for a split of a second.
Because i’m an angsty bitch and couldn’t get that scene out of my head.
Short angsty Captain Cobra bit.
Things don’t fix themselves overnight. It takes more than an adventure and a night of video games to build on the fragile understanding between the two. But it does get a little better. He finds the boy is warmer to him in the mornings, offering a genuine smile that’s not so forced. He seeks him out too, every once in a while, requesting his presence for a game of COD which has Killian confidently claiming he’s an expert fisherman… which leaves the boy in hysterics and Killian wondering what is so funny. But there are still times, more often than not, when he sees a look pass across Henry’s face. He never speaks; the lad is too polite for that, but his face becomes uncertain; a flash of awkwardness and unease bestows upon it, and Killian finds his words running through his mind.
Summary: Emma was tired of the boring, dutiful life of a princess. She longed for an adventure–something to break up the monotony of life at court, something with
a little intrigue and possibly even a bit of romance–perhaps that was why the notion of sneaking away from the palace to attend a masquerade was so
appealing. Little did she realize that a dance with a ghost would lead her on a quest for vengeance over the man she would come to love. [ on ao3 ]
happy halloween! this isn’t really a halloween story, but there are costumes and ghosts! and pirates, sort of! and men in tight breeches! and granny as a Duchess in her own right! and hey, how ‘bout that incredibly gorgeous art? like, i’ve been dying for you all to see it. @fairytalesandtimetravel did an incredible job, make sure you let her know what you think of her work! you can check it out here.
anyway, enjoy my rated-for-everyone lieutenant duckling romance adventure. and be safe tonight!
The Ghost and the Mask
Lady Ruby regarded Emma with a solemn expression, but Emma could still see the devilish twinkle in her friend’s eye. Deciding to ignore Ruby’s obvious
attempt to elicit questions from her, Emma instead called upon years and years of lessons in comportment and her mother’s ever-present voice in her head
counseling patience as the best form of diplomacy; she folded her hands in her lap and fixed her countenance in the most bland expression she could summon.
Because Ruby had been a friend since they were young girls, Emma tilted her head to the side, her only concession to curiosity, though inside she
impatiently waited for whatever outrageous thing her old friend would say next.
Lady Ruby narrowed her eyes slightly, but she must have remembered that great friend or no, Emma was still the princess, so she sighed heavily and smiled.
“A ghost.”
Emma lifted one brow but otherwise maintained her composure. Inside, she felt a tingle of excitement. A ghost! In Lady Ruby’s ancestral home!
“He has the Lucas light eyes and dark hair; probably some long-lost ancestor doomed to haunt the halls with a forlorn expression on his handsome face.”
Summary: When Henry is kidnapped by the Evil Queen, Emma rushes to save him. Along the way, she receives the help of a ship’s captain with a shared past, though she has no idea just how deep that shared past really goes. Rating: E Warnings: Kidnapping, language, explicit sexual content Beta-readers:@scapeartist, @zengoalie, @optomisticgirl, @swankkat Cover and art:@swankkat (@snokone-lady)
The following day, Emma and Liam gave up all pretense of having a platonic relationship while they were in front of the crew. Rumors were certainly already abounding, and it was unlikely that either she or Liam had been quiet enough the previous two nights to avoid notice. Either way, there were no comments or double takes as she and Liam held hands or put one arm around the other, and if there were any snickers or exchanges of money, the crew kept them hidden.
Free of the stress of the crew’s reaction, Emma’s thoughts were centered squarely on Liam. Now that they’d started taking pleasure in each other’s bodies, she was practically overwhelmed by desire, to the point where it was nearly alarming when she stopped to think about it.
“I did do the same thing,” Emma says into the darkness of their bedroom.
Killian mumbles a sleepy, “Pardon?”
She feels a little bad. He’d clearly been about to fall asleep and he’s had a long day, but she’s been staring up at their ceiling with a churning need to talk in her gut for the last half an hour. “What you said earlier. About the shears. You couldn’t get rid of them, even though you thought using them would make me hate you.”
“Aye,” he responds, sounding a bit more coherent.
“I did almost the exact same thing to you in Camelot.”
He sucks in a quick breath. She can tell he’s fully awake now. “When you asked me to get rid of them,” he says, “I just kept hearing you in my head saying that you would be willing to pay the price of your magic. That you’d be willing to die.”
There’s a long pause, and Emma is holding her breath. Her eyes studiously trace the flawless ceiling. She almost wishes there were a crack or something, something she could think about fixing instead of focusing on his silence, on her visions, on her impending–
He finally says, “I forgave you for turning me into–into that. But I don’t think I truly understood why you did it until you asked me to get rid of those shears.”
It’s Emma’s turn to gasp quietly. She turns on her side to face him, only to find him already in the same position. She bites her lip. “You didn’t use them on me against my will.”
He can clearly see where her thoughts are going. “Hey,” he says, his hookless arm curling over her waist and pulling her a bit closer so their legs can tangle together and she can feel his breath fluttering across her face. “Forgiveness, remember?“
She sighs, closing her eyes against the intensity of his stare. “I’m not mad that you kept them.” She opens her eyes again, “I’m almost… I’m kind of disappointed you didn’t keep them, honestly.”
He looks confused. “I don’t understand, I thought…”
“I know, and I thought… I thought I could just pay the price. I just didn’t… I didn’t think too hard about actually doing it. I was so focused on getting rid of the visions and my hand shaking and getting my magic back under control that I stopped thinking about actually dying.”
“We’re not going to let that happen, shears or not,” he reminds her, and it makes her smile.
“I know that we’re going to do everything in our power to stop it,” she says, “but what if it’s beyond us? What if the shears are the only way to stop it?”
“We can’t know that.”
She swallows, embarrassed because she feels her eyes burning when she says, “But I’m afraid. I don’t want to die,” Her voice is thready, wavering. In the barely-there light, she sees Killian soften, and he pulls her closer so that he can hug her with his other arm, his hand stroking through her hair.
His chin ends up on top of her head, and her face ends up against his chest. The shirt he’s wearing smells like their laundry detergent, and he smells like clean skin and men’s soap. It’s nice, and for a blinding moment, her fear snakes through her, gripping her like a vise because she could lose this. This future they both fought so hard for.
She realizes she’s quietly crying when she hears Killian saying something quietly above her. She can’t quite discern what it is, the sibilant words blending together and then she realizes he’s singing. It doesn’t sound like English, but it’s soothing and it causes the deepest warmth of love to fork through her so quickly she forgets to be afraid, even for a moment.
That moment of freedom makes the fear recede. Even if it isn’t gone
She wriggles herself enough that she can meet his eyes again. His hand is still playing with her hair and they’re pressed together from knee to chest.
There’s so many things she feels like she should say to him. So many things that she just wants him to hear in case they don’t succeed. But she won’t say them tonight, not when he’s feeding off the hope of her beautiful boy, her truest believer. She just wants to bask in that, not think about what might happen tomorrow or the next day.
“I love you,” she says.
He smiles, like he does whenever she says that. “I love you too, Swan. More than I can truly say.”
She has this happiness. It’s real. And she’s going to hold onto it as long as she possibly can.
cshappybeginning 