Best selfie ever [x]
truelove armada parallels [x]: giving them strength.
↳ [6/10] Rumplestiltskin/Mr. Gold
"Ah, but I'm a villain. And villains don't get happy endings."
Life passes you by
Don’t be wasting your time
A/N: hehehe i totally twisted this around sorry (does anyone watch sleepy hollow)
It’d been endearing, at first, when he’d come to her with whatever it was he’d plundered and pillaged. (She’d been pissed when he’d run her microwave through with his sword, but his sheepish smile and claim that the contrivance in your kitchen was emanating some hellish form of torment, love had made it hard to resent him).
(She didn’t even mind that he’d been through at least four pairs of jeans in the past week, somehow managing to obliterate every pair by splitting the seams and tearing them apart—bloody buggering hell, what sort of accouterment has fastenings such as these, Swan. Seeing him without all his pirate captain bravado and pretension—with split jeans and fuzzy socks—had sent pervading warmth to her heart.)
(She’s just glad she’d introduced him to underwear. The last thing she needs is Snow White to see Captain Hook walking around, all unrepentant swagger and full commando.)
But after he’d thrown his hook at the TV—those obsessive, incessant, maddening people kept trying to coerce me into ‘loving that chicken at Pop Eyes’, and I will not concede and allow myself to be bewitched into consuming fried fowl, Swan, I will not—she now viewed the novelty of showing him the offerings of her world as not only an inconvenience, but an affront.
(Hey, she’s on salary.)
(She can’t afford to buy a new TV every time Henry watches Peter Pan with him.)
When he comes to her now—she’s fairly certain that’s guilt in his eyes—she knows. He slouches, averts his eyes. She stares hard at him.
(She’s going to have to start paying for things with his gold doubloons.)
“Swan,” he begins, scratching behind his ear. “Darling, don’t be upset with me.”
She arches an eyebrow. “What is it this time, Hook? Did you think the oven was a fire-breathing dragon? Did you break Siri again?”
(She’d never seen Henry laugh harder than when Killian had heatedly argued that a three-hundred-year-old pirate knows more about ships than the likes of you, unembodied witch.)
His face is pained. “I was perusing—what did the lad call it, ah – the in-ter-nets, I believe—when, without any sort of provocation—”
She blinks. He’s blushing—she’s never seen him blush—and he keeps scratching at his ear. His eyes—normally so inveigling and persuasive—dart around, looking anywhere but her.
“Killian, what the hell are you—”
“She means to seduce me, Emma,” he yells, suddenly and loudly. She nearly jumps at the ferocity behind it.
Taking her arm, he drags her to the computer. She looks at the screen. Then she laughs.
There’s a naked girl on the Hot Chixxx page, moaning as she runs her hands over her voluptuous breasts, then down, down. She’s beautiful—all angles and curves, pinks and ivories.
Wanna join me, sexy? Her voice is breathy as she services herself, gasping and groaning.
He’s found porn.
This should not be funny.
He’s glaring indignantly at her. She can see the guilt still remains in the furrow of his brow, the dark blue of his eyes. He thinks she’ll be angry with him.
“Swan, I assure you, I am not acquainted with this, this woman—”
“Nor would I wish to be, love. She just sort of appeared, as if by magic—”
“I may be a pirate, love, but you must know I’d never seek the company of this bawd—”
Composing himself, to the screen, he says, “I’m flattered, madam, but I’m afraid I’m promised to another.”
By now, she’s stopped laughing. His rejection of the advertisement—somehow she can’t help but compare herself—makes her heart feel full. It’s ridiculous. He’s proven that he loves her a thousand times over, but she can’t help but feel this way every time he chooses her.
She slams the laptop shut, and kisses him.
(She loves him, too.)
I have a closet full of blazers and more striped shirts than any human could possibly wear. Somehow I think that I don’t have striped shirts, and then I look at my closet and go, ‘Oh, I have ten.’ But then you always end up with your favourite striped shirt of the moment, and you don’t end up wearing any of the other ones.