-------THEME 01 BY NATALIE (VATICAMEOS.TUMBLR.COM) DONT REMOVE THE CREDITS NEITHER USE THIS CODE AS A BASE-------/>
me every time I actually leave the house to do something social.
Hook and his sexy as hell serious expressions!
I AM DEAD
FLAILS AND DIES
I love a challenge darling…
still with hearts beating
There is anger inside of her that threatens to spill out in a torrent of magic she can’t control, so she bites her lip hard enough for it to bleed and slams the door behind her (she hears the picture frame fall onto the floor and the glass shatter and she wonders if it’s only bad luck when it’s a mirror that breaks).
She rests against the door, closing her eyes and letting her head fall backwards. She can faintly hear movement in the other room – shuffling, curses – and she waits for the front door to slam.
Emma sinks down to the floor, back still pressed against the door. Any minute now, the front door will slam and he will be gone (like all of the others, one way or another) and she will have to live with not being good enough for someone else (foster parents on down the line, the faces blurring as the tears start to form).
She sniffles, catches herself before she cries, wiping away the tears with the back of her hand. She’s mad and anger and furious and frustrated and words that aren’t even in the dictionary (Killian should know better than going up against that ice bitch without her, he doesn’t have any magic, he could have been killed). And he had acted so flippantly – like it didn’t even fucking matter, like risking life or limb was completely ordinary.
She tucks her knees into her chest, rests her chin on them, trying to calm her breathing, trying not to cry at his abandonment, at yet another loss–
- and that’s when she hears it: scraping, brushing, the jangle of glass.
Emma stands up, flinging the door open to find Killian trying (rather deftly) to maneuver a broom and dustbin with a hand and a hook, crouched down on the floor. The picture of her and Henry in front of the Storybrooke sign is on the coffee table (the frame is broken, its pieces shattered among the shards of glass on the floor).
“What are you doing?” she asks, her voice harsher than she would like but Killian doesn’t seem to notice.
“Cleaning up ,” he tells her like it’s ordinary, like they haven’t just had a huge fight, his eyes not looking at her but staring at the floor. She watches as he brushes the glass into the dustbin, and then she stoops and reaches for the pieces of the frame. Silence stretches between them for what feels like infinity, ending when he stands and dumps the glass into the trashcan.
“I’m sorry,” Killian says, after a prolonged period of silence, leaning against the kitchen counter far from where Emma crouches on the living room floor. “I shouldn’t have gone against her on my own. I should have waited for reinforcements.”
Emma swallows, placing the wooden pieces on the coffee table next to the picture. “I don’t want you to get hurt,” she responds, afraid to look up at his face (instead, she hears his footsteps draw closer until he’s crouching next to her, so close that she could reach out and touch him).
“I can handle myself, love – have for some time, in fact,” he reminds her, and when she looks up at him, and sees the earnestness in his eyes, she can’t help but reach for him.
“Don’t leave me,” she whispers as she buries her face in his neck, fingers clutching desperately at his t-shirt, grateful that his arms are around her, holding her tightly to him.
“Oh, Swan, I’m afraid you’ll have to get rid of me first,” he tells her and she knows that it’s him being light, being himself, trying to make everything better, but the words serve their purpose: she inhales, slowly, her heart returning to normal. His hand strokes up and down her spine in time with her breathing, and when she moves to rest her forehead against his, she knows that he’s telling her the truth.
maybe that last pic with his hand on her waist completed with an actual kiss, the one that would’ve happened if Grumpy didn’t interrupt? :) - suggested by once-upon-a-rolly-joger
A part of me died when I let you go
Once Upon A Time is a tale of…
SOMEONE HOLD ME
NONONO HOLD THE PHONE AND STOP THE PRESSES CAUSE MORE IMPORTANTLY:
WEAPON OF CHOICE: LIGHTNING? !?!!!?
Colin O’Donoghue - AfterBuzz TV Interview SDCC 2014